It wasn't really her fault, but seriously, what variety of
©ø¢κļϋмρ am I if I can't hold it together at a nutrionist appointment. Well, no tears were actually shed, but
coño, it was the nutrionist! I think she was just showing off for her baby-nutrionist (aka her intern), but did we really need to go there? They baby-nutrionist was asking me about what I ate for breakfast, and all of a sudden we go from that to why my mental health has been unstable over the past few years. Now I've committed myself to going to a "mindfulness" seminar this summer. I guess I ought to be mindful of not acting like a
μουνάκι.
Anyways, this finally prompted me to buy the new book I read about in
TIME. I haven't started it yet, but I had the
яйцо to buy it at least. Well, I'll get it done eventually. I've decided
che sera, sera. Whatever I don't do well the first time is only practice for the second time. I'm no zen-master, but
mehercule! I'm tired of getting myself all worked up over things of which I have practically relinquished control.
Anyways, there are some things in life that are important, and for all the rest there is MasterCard®. Of course, now I feel like a real
ιδιωτης for spending $20, which Amazon tells me is only worth $13. However, the more you think about something, the more everything resembles its opposite.
That's why I think modernism is a
fons siccus. (Parenthetically—this is why I am not
really [emphasis mine] a Calvinist.) For instance, Orwell was only half right. Freedom really is slavery, war really is peace, etc... Of course, freedom is also not slavery, and war is also not peace, etc... But the point here is this, all opposites are at once both the same and radically distinct.
Take the Iraq War for instance—and by instance, I mean tragedy. The Iraq War was fought because of the certainty that if we didn't act preemptively others would attack us without warning or provocation. Of course, we all should know now that no one who sincerely sought certainty was certain of this. In fact, we certainly know that those who were insincerely certain did their best to discredit the certainly uncertain by making certain that the uncertainty of the identity of Valerie Plame was made certain.
Then, when we actually did attack Iraq, what was intended for shock and awe only produced reprehension and audacity on both sides. We were told that all who opposed our efforts were terrorists who hated us. In fact, our president—using the language of cheesy teen cheerleader comedies—invited opposition by saying, "Bring 'em on." Our lack of sufficient ground forces, rather than projecting our strength and resolve, projected our weakness and inability to govern. Freedom, rather than seeming like the utmost yearning of the oppressed masses, seemed like an excuse to torture, rape, plunder, and kill.
I told my nutritionist the two steps I made towards positive mental health after my 10.7 HA1c were working out and "journaling." Of course, you all know what I meant by "journaling." She asked me if I told my "whole truth" in my journal. Of course, what I thought was, "There is no such thing as the 'whole truth.'" However, I was being disingenuous. What she meant was, "Are you being as honest as possible with yourself." I believe that honesty is the only value that is worth dying for. Of course, I hope I am being honest with myself. I may write things that are too poorly worded or obtuse, but I know what I mean.
Her other concern was that I might not tell the "whole truth" in my journal if others might read it. However, that one was no problem. I believe that if freedom can mean anything, the one thing it does mean is never having to tell a lie. So, my friends, my nutrionist almost made me cry. Now you know the "whole truth." It seems so tragic, it ought to fit
Alanis Morisette's definition of "ironic."
So here's my new Latin name—
Confututus Mentula Magnus
