I discovered Seneca today (during my lunch hour, of course, far be it from me to waste precious work hours when I could be underlining stuff in some stupid report) thanks to Steven.
I'm not going to repeat the endlessly scrolling pages of discourse on stoicism that Steven sent, and that I found from there, if you want 'em, e-mail me.
I will tell you, and how this makes any sense with regards to what my addled brain has attempted to read today, is really not something you ought to be wasting valuable brainwaves on. I mean, you could be out watching TV! I hear 'Friends' is on! Or that 'Dr. Katz' show. Can't you hear them calling... calling for your few remaining brain cells...
Go, go my jelly-brains... The TV needs you. Long live the new flesh.
RIGHT. Now that we're rid of those mindless automaton beasties, where were we?
Right. I didn't know that it was some christ-age stoic who said "Errare humanum est" (to err is human, you knobs, oh - and yes, this one was Seneca)
Otherwise known as Lucius Annaeus Seneca, the Younger, this dude reminds me of all the reasons I read "The Illuminatus Trilogy" in one day and proceeded to spend the next day shivering uncontrollably and trying to dig myself into invisible corners.
So'm I a stoic, do you think? Neh, I have too much of a propensity towards whining. But... I definitely admire the strength of their intentions.
Or their intentional strength. Whatever.
Just strength. I admire strength. (and the fact that if I had enough to follow any philosophical doctrines rather than preach them, I'd be the uber-mensch, setting examples rather than still reading them)
I do NOT admire, however, ego. Confidence, yes. Oh dear oh my but how confidence ensures that slim trail of spittle along my chin, as does wit, and that serene glow of someone who knows what they want...
...rather than someone who just likes telling people what they should know.
Ego. The disaster, the connundrum, the prey that I am still terrified of falling too close to. The trap of those with too little knowledge of who they are and what they want, and too much knowledge that other people are further ahead in the game.
Ego, the compensation. The speed-train to not being depressed anymore, because it's too difficult to dig yourself out of the hole with just your hands, and wits, and accomplishments.
Please, friends, no more ego. I love you without it, and I'll listen to you without it, and the only thing in the way is that when your head is swollen with false assurances to yourself that everything is fine and good and perfect - you're not listening to me.
And it hurts. And it's the one reason I won't be your friend anymore. Bite me, kick me, as long as you're self-aware I know that you'll stop, and I know that I'll heal.
But don't lie to yourself, because then I won't trust you.
[This message has been brought to you on behalf of the monstre reading too much philosophy and not knowing how to discourse intelligently about it, and on behalf of certain things that monstres fell asleep being annoyed at. Be thankful this didn't turn into a poem like it was going to last night. Something about your ego being worse than the IRA. Something unintelligible like that. ]