I’m my voice. I’m not a science dude reaching for universality.

I’m my voice. I’m not a science dude reaching for universality. …

I do sometimes just want to publish something—hopefully an interesting something, but something. And I know there’s more to being alive than just publishing or debating ideas or even writing journals—oh, sure—but ideas are fun, I like ’em—and I don’t always (see Sat. night’s description in Sunday journals) feel like posting, but I sometimes (like yesterday) do. It’s just ideas—but ideas can be cool, can help me, help others, to live better, more deeply, more calmly, maybe.

Now, I made assertions that could get some sensitive people upset—I’m not paid, as a teacher, to make assertions, state ideas—I’m paid not for abstractions but for my presence supervising students in classroom.

But also, part of my job, I thought last night, is to accept the rules and directives of my bosses as if these abstractions were as real as things—and, in an abstract way, they are. If I disobey, if I act like the rules don’t matter, I’d lose the job that pays for my house and food, and those absences I’d notice. This is ever the threat with jobs. Years ago, maybe at my first job at AgriNews, I thought this was too abstract—eh. It’s an abstract world—well, it’s a human society, built of/running on abstractions that I live in.

Huh—I really don’t owe my writings anything! I don’t have to be systematic! I can just publish what bits I find interesting! I mean, I’ve thought this before, but I’m realizing it anew—all my writings still exist! (recall back in ’98, when you bought the safe, and how they all—the total journal collection—fit in there then).

F**k—I write for different reasons at different times. Daily journals are part diary/record, and are part brain-drain/private rantspace, private work-things-out space–and partly philosophy-sketch space. And if I find something interesting when I graze back through, fine—but you don’t have to ever read all of your journals (or any past writings)!—seems obvious, but feels like a relief.

[From journal of Mon., 27 April 2015, Journal 208, page 31-2]