A literary display of John's great condescension and charity

Current mood:irate

It happened quite late this year. Rather, it's happening quite late this year. This period of time in which I
1) Haven't any good ideas at all,
2) Have a thorough distaste and ineptitude for productivity,
3) Can't manage the completion of (m)any tasks or conversations without an obligatory and crucial error of some sort, and
4) Won't be bothered to be sociable, amiable, or prepossessing under most circumstances

Also, I often adopt a bit of a superiority complex. But given that I'm usually under the influence of a perennial inferiority complex, I end up finally believing I'm as awesome as I actually am. Yeah, it's pride the roundabout way. Or complete misapplication of multiplication to self-esteem.

This is typically a late January, early February occurance, as that has been the time of year when I was least likely to, hmm, something. See the sun? Have a break? Associate with friends? Watch the Steelers win? Keep up my resolutions?
In any case, that affected state has caught me now and left me more glowered and less glum than usual. Ineffectuality has scowled my disposition, and I am as determined as ever to regain my normal wisecracking, overtasking, self-effacing, accommodating manners.

But enough on my temperament, and onto some thoughts.

This week I read a chapter in my book (as pictured below) that caused me to realize that I was misguided in my dread over the prospect of a mechanistic universe; my real anxiety comes in the possibility of a mechanist human body. So it's all well and good that we can call on Heisenberg to abolish determinism, but what I really need is biology to show that my thoughts, my rationale, my feelings, my beliefs are more than nerual pathways and electrical impulses, hormone molecules and biochemistry. That's where my science and religion crash. It shouldn't be bothersome, for I at least feel as though I make my own choices. But the notion that I might be so easily manipulated by drugs or electrodes makes me doubt that I have much choice in my thoughts or feelings in the first.