Sadness, regret...hope

My goodness!

I have had a pretty hectic couple of days! I got contact from a trust manager who is responsible for abusing me (well, her underlings did it). This is an ongoing thing, but whenever I come back to it, I am always distressed by the memories of what happened; the event-that-I-am-not-ready-to-speak-of.

Anyway; I got a phone call from the incompetent manager RIGHT before my seminar; but then, as I did, something happened. I realised the manager was a woman; my mood changed; and my whole appreciation of the seminar just dropped and I was filled with distress. I called her again later and was VERY angry. My voice changes, as does my personality, attitude, and to some extent, beliefs. I become a different person, in a sense. This feeling of being overwhelmed by anger sentiment was so much that I had to run to the chaplaincy and cry in the quiet room. I find it physically difficult to cry, so when the feelings are overwhelming, I get express a lot of hurt through my tears. There is a certain wonder in the sadness, a certain warmth. A certain sense of intimacy with myself; honest; sensitivity. When I cry, I am most human; most beautiful, most ugly, most me.

Tears make me pensive; more so than usual. Being a philosophy postgrad aside; I really examined myself in a strict and honest way. What happened in November 2006 is something I suppose I want to move on from. Something that has changed the scope of my life and now I must simply continue. From that point any improvement that happens, is, essentially, empty, irrelevant, immaterial. I feel I've already lost something very important. I am broken, damaged, hurt, reject, refuse.

I went to a discussion group for a student society later on in the day; after drying my tears a little. A friend noticed something was wrong; I felt so horrible I didn't even care that people found out. I wonder what it would be like to tell people about my real identity; my real life as 'conatus'. Where I feel despair, anguish, hatred, jealousy, regret, and perseverence; instead of the fake smug, happy, funny, offensive, jockular, empathetic, helpful and active person I make myself appear. I feel like there are two images of who I am; two disjunct, yet fundamentally identical elements that constitute me.

I found out there were too many people in the group, so, we had to split into two. Lo and behold, I was the one who (again) had to lead a group. I was fairly mixed between being competent and incompetent. I didn't want to run a discussion group and be a chair; having to control people from speaking too much or being too controlling and dogmatic. I don't want to talk about that; although running discussion groups seems to be something I have developed an increasing competence in; or, should I say, something in which I have increasingly been put into a role of.

As the discussion ended; I went around to talk with the people whom which I 'talked at', to my amazement, I found someone who I felt I could be somewhat philosophical about myself to. I was talking about the emotions, Socrates' question, and corollary to the latter; what I value (music, reason, trying to live). The girl eventually said she had to go, as it was getting late. As she left I felt she left a distinct impression on me. I felt a certain warmth from her sweetness, her sincerity, and the agreement we maintained together. Yes, we actually agreed on things! Maybe she's smart, or I'm good at arguing!

Some time later, she ran back to the room that we were in at the pub. She said she wanted to continue the conversation. Gasp! My heart nearly stopped, I tried to maintain my normal cool and calm appearance, but inside I was jumping and racing all over the place. Alarm bells went off: WHAT DO I DO!!!

I tried not to show my smile; a smile of embarrassment, of fear, of a sense of joy. She gave me her number, and I gave her a text to apologise for keeping her for so long. She then replied and said she hopes to continue our chat. I should be as pessimistic as possible in this instance. What is the least I can derive from this?

1. She wants to talk again
2. She may contact me again
3. She has my number
4. I may see her again
5. She wants to talk more about the nature of the emotions; Socrates' question; and more pastoral matters

I should try and just forget about the whole incident. I mean, I feel tempted to think about her now! Thinking about her, and speculating, hoping, the eternal maybe always keeps coming to my mind. I must be ambivalent to my old wants, my perennial goals that I used to have. I am supposed to be a grad student. I should be reading all day and nothing more. I am empty, a philosopher; I am hardly a man.

Those few joys we have in life, the ones which are very finite; are what makes life wonderful. It is perhaps they are so few of those experiences, that we cherish them. I do not seek to live without the passions, but I do hope to have a better grasp of them. Spinoza teaches us to identify the genesis of that which affects us so as not to affect our other affects in relation to others. At the moment, I very much feel a slave of the passions, a slave to the thoughts and curiosities of this girl. I have no chance, and I never do. I should just carry on as normal, and if anything develops in this story, fair enough; but I shouldn't make it part of my plans. My plans are to sort out settling down back in uni, and then studying and studying some more, then I may in the distant future have the hope I once had as the boy I used to be; my boyhood dream to be a philosopher. I wanted very much to go this far. Now I have the chance. I should concentrate on THAT goal; as it is something very special to me. Whereas passions, on the other hand, are ever more fleeting.

To find control; such is the life of conatus, the life of striving.