The last two years of my life have been wasted, I think. From a certain standpoint.
But then, by my current way of thinking so were the 42 prior to that. And no regrets. It's only a judgment upon how it's all added up. During the living of it, I assure you I had neither concern nor intention involving any such queer math!
And each moment was not wasted. Not one moment was. It's just that parts of me, parts of my life - I can admit now, were lived with a thought towards adding it all up. To certain ends, towards certain goals, whose certainty no longer appeals at all.
I plan to keep on as I've begun and as I've gone, all along: to waste no moments.
The thing I'd care to change is this. To abandon my expectations for life to add up. For things to come to any sum total more than all that they simply are. It was never any goal or aim of mine involved, in all this highly-questionable math. So this adjustment should be relatively easy, if indeed there is any more adjustment to it than simply to note the truth. The expectation I'd care to abandon was never mine to begin with.
It's always something based on the other person's expectation and not yours. And they can't explain why they want it, or why it's important, and for goodness sake I never had the slightest talent or knack grasping any of it as anything real. Expectation for some plan to come true?
I know how to execute a campaign. I know how to stage an operation. I am through with fools who take a dream and call it a plan. They do nothing to break it out into achievable stages, assess the probabilities of success for each incremental step, identify the factors whose manipulation can improve on those odds. They just take a dream and call it a goal. They do nothing to make it real. Some plan!
1. Have a dream.
2. Wake up, or claim to be.
3. Declare the dream achievable,
4. Declare yourself dedicated to its realization.
A better term for such wan "realization" might be "wish-fulfillment." What expectation should such a "planner" have for their plan?
Expectation is something I have when I throw a rock.
Or, for when I choose a rock. I look with an eye towards its shape or color, and I grasp with a hand for its balance and heft. There are expectations I have for the rock I'll choose, for the particular rock-based purpose I have that day discovered. Maybe it's just a pretty rock! One that caught my eye. And so I choose it for that reason and - whoa! It feels so good. Cool and smooth in the hand! Mission accomplished?
Yes. Expectation leading directly to satisfaction with a reality that quantifiably measures up. This is the sort of expectation I have, and want. The kind I've always had; the only kind I've ever actually wanted, speaking now for myself. The kind of expectation I can make use of. The kind I understand, and so can manage. Quite easily!
Expectation is for immediate guidance. It is not there to provide an excuse to indefinitely suspend one's dream-based disappointment. The word for that is "faith."
Expectation is to pick up and throw a rock. Aims. Goals. Metrics.
Expectation is not something anybody would need as they're picking a path over a range of hills or climbing a mountain. Expectation adds nothing to your efforts, here. A map? Sure! Why not? If you need one. If you're no walker, if you're no climber, you might need a map. If you have any business out there, you don't need a map. You really ought to be able to judge the easiest course from the landscape, and steer by the sky. And if you're out there for the right reason, then you are in no hurry. Exploration is for detours. Exploration is for doublebacks.
Expectation is for the rock your palm and thumb can meditate upon, as you grasp your stout walking stick and keep an eye out for pumas.
From the world expect gravity. From yourself, balance.
From others, expect them to regard their delusions as your self-improvement list. There's nothing wrong with this. We can all stand to improve, but no one changes for another person. If you change, it will be because you have understood why, and because you are the kind of person who has difficulty doing anything the stupid, dumb, wrong way, as soon as you've understood why the better way is better.
Reason is mine.
Purpose is not my problem. Excuses are not my problem. Justifications are not my problem.
"Reasons" are not my problem.
Reasons are miscalled. They are always either justifications, for the weak who need justification to act, or excuses, for the fool who refuses to act without an excuse, or for the fool who demands that others cannot so act. But justice can only require a justification for a wrong act. Justice must show why the act is wrong, if justice wishes to limit liberty. Justice can require no justification for an act that is harmless, blameless.
As to excuses, it takes a fool to require one and a sorry individual indeed to provide it. "Reasons" have no relation to Reason. I say things should be done for no reason or not at all.
A thing should be done because you just did it, and because I've got nothing to show that should've stopped you doing it. I've got no shred nor scrap to show, as to why I am the one who can ask or compel excuse or justification from you for your free act.
Do the thing because you are alive. Do the thing because you are at perfect liberty to do so. You don't need to be pursuing happiness at the time.
I'm sure as hell not. They only put "pursuit of happiness" in the Constitution for the pussies who need an excuse to act. Luckily, you can tell them by certain signs. Whenever you propose a course of action, they claim not to see the point, or they claim the act will not achieve the desired result.
I don't fear or detest purpose. I quite enjoy the plans and dreams of others, and often act in ways that pull their lame ass out of the fire just for sheer enjoyment, because I either love to be of service, or I live to show off. There's no difference between the two.
I plan to enjoy. Pretty open-ended plan, otherwise. In particular I plan to enjoy every exchange of views with the weakling or fool or requires plan, justification, or excuse to act. Don't worry!
It's always fun for them, too.