Fate and Her Three Faces

 I am at a point in my life where one could argue I am standing in the crossroads, awaiting in the twilight for Hecate's three faces to appear and provide me guidance. I am also in the throes of what can only be described as an existential crisis, questioning the nature of my existence and pondering the abiogenesis of my potent consciousness in which I have difficulty deriving its purpose. It seems pointless and hackneyed to continue to scream "Why Am I Here!?" for the millionth time into the void, as countless other human beings have done before me. Perhaps it is better to backtrack in both time and mind, and explore the inextricably tangled paths of my labyrinthine psyche... perhaps.

And then there is you, wondering why you are reading the same old existential garbage that this millennial generation has inundated you with; a deluge of nihilism and narcissism which in no way, shape, or form has benefited society. I ask myself why I am bloated with these feelings and ruminate their possible origin. Is this no more than an exercise in futility, or can a boon be extracted from this exercise?

But that is enough, I am once again avoiding the question that is being begged, "why the hell are you writing this?" There are a few answers.

The first answer is this; I actually think I have a decent talent in writing and conveying complex and abstract thought in written form. I distinctly recall when a college professor wrote on one of my papers "you should be writing, you're damn good." So if a college professor can recognize this, why am I not capitalizing on this inherent talent that I possess? This blog will be an exercise in developing this ability which I have neglected for many years.

The second answer is that I wish to understand more in depth the neuroses I house in my mind, as alluded to earlier. In this exercise I hope to not only improve upon my own condition but perhaps on another individual's as well who may have the fortune (or misfortune) of reading my work. We are all in this together, a congregation of fools in the courtyard...

Finally, in this age of looming "Artificial Intelligence" influence, where we can all write a paper without any talent whatsoever as long as one knows the proper prompt, I staunchly refuse to have the human brain delegated to algorithms and "borg consciousness," as the trend seems to be. We seem to be willingly marching ourselves into the matrix, plugging ourselves in with illusion and distraction. I have no desire to become a mindless, meat automaton. 

I wish to continue to frolic in the playground of the brain and wander the taurine maze of the mind; There are beasts to commune with and monsters to slay.