draconica | Entries tagged with sensitivity

Life changes a lot when you have a partner. I can't behave the same way as when I'm alone. In a way this is good, as it keeps me up. On the other hand, it's exhausting, having this feeling that someone's around, and they may approach you any time, ask what you're doing, or announce they're doing something. I haven't always lived alone, naturally, I spend the most of my younger years with my family so someone always has been around. So it kind of feels like returning to that old state of being surrounded by people. And even before that I lived with a friend. I'm not new to this. But it's always so weird and exhausting. Being alone is also weird and exhausting in its own way, so it's not like I'm complaining (if I were to complain, it would be a complaint about everything and how all modes of being suck).

The primary challenge is the Watching Eye, where you can't just do whatever, the inappropriate things, you know. It's easier with a partner than with family or a friend because they will tolerate more of the inappropriateness. I'm fine with tolerating inappropriateness with others, I will not even make odd remarks and be weird about it, like, go ahead.

The most important thing is I can't be the same in various environments, and various environments affect me differently, and I have to adapt to changing environment, "being myself" is actually always "accommodating to the environment" because the feeling of self does not just come from within but is also informed by the environment.

Current Mood: drained

I haven't been posting to draconica for a while, but that isn't because I've died. If I forever stopped posting, though, you wouldn't know the difference for a variety of reasons.

Don't we all post blogs because we want to feel alive? Isn't a paper trail of publications is the only evidence for the wide world that we're living beings with thoughts, feelings, and words to be said? Personally, my habit of posting texts online is a kind of long tail of a fact that when I only began liking writing essays at school, the school was over. My urge to write wasn't over, though, so there we go. Pages upon pages upon pages.

What would you think of a person who likes to write a lot, dear reader? For me, writing is a vehicle; and me, a peasant of word craft, use this vehicle to have a slightest idea of what I think about without being too distracted. Also, it's easier to remember your thoughts when they're written down. What I do arguably more than write is jotting down little drawings. I do this a lot when I'm bored, or when I'm struggling to comprehend something, so I literally connect the dots by arcs and arrows to help me visualize things a bit.

What else do I do a lot? I hum tunes. This is an expression of something entirely different: the songs that play in my head on repeat. I would think about something and the song plays at the same time and it gets so noisy in there I just gotta hum along. Like a peasant of word craft, plowing their field of thought and humming a song to ease their burden.

And after a long month of plowing, I log into my draconica blog to document my experience to have a good old dose of feeling alive, to leave a paper trail of publications.

If I forever stop posting, know that a tune is being hummed somewhere and a field is being plown.

I cannot stand when communication is built on lies, omissions, hints, manipulations, obfuscation, devaluation, or shifting focus—when directness is not the goal but a tool; when closeness is not a bond but a trick; when one person uses another while the other believes they are loved; when openness is seen as weakness and the pursuit of openness as intrusive; when collaboration is a temporary inconvenience rather than a belief in shared effort; when unnecessary words are spoken at the most convenient times; and necessary ones are postponed for better days. When two waves collide in this way, it’s not an overlap but a decay. It’s the rusting of souls. This is mutual torment, and if someone finds profit in it and seeks it, that person deserves loneliness.

Pain, Pain, Pain.

We live in the World of Pain. Pain inhabits this world with us, pain is our inevitable companion. It's not gonna be a fluffy post with a happy ending, so be warned, consider if it's worth your time.

We usually differentiate physical and emotional pain. But emotions are physical, so it's not two different kinds of pain, but really two different sources of pain: from physical wounds or from psychological "wounds". The latter is the metaphor arising from the former, because metaphors allow us to speak of what is not physical. It's like we speak about seas on the Moon's surface, even though there's no water on the Moon. Wounds may be physical, but the pain is not, the pain is a phenomenon of perception. Pain is a measure of suffering that soul gets to experience, for how could one suffer if there was no pain?

The pain has a point to make, that something is damaged, either body or soul, or is so strained it's about to be damaged. Soul, like body, can be damaged, it can be twisted in such a way that it becomes the source of suffering itself, it produces pain, once again metaphorically we call this a trauma. So the pain is a feeling of damage, the evidence of damage.

We speak of pain as an unpleasant sensation, but isn't pain sometimes pleasant, dear reader? Have you ever enjoyed suffering to the degree where you submerge into the pain so deeply that it's uncomfortable to get out of it? I surely have, I'm a masochist of sorts, able to derive satisfaction from all kinds of pain, if it's bearable. As an unfortunate byproduct, this makes me sometimes enjoy the pain inflicted on others, it drives my aggression and it drives my desire to hurt people. Do you have such a desire, dear reader? I'm inclined to believe we all have a dark side, though you are free to believe whatever you wish. Maybe you're a pure and undamaged creature. Me, I'm damaged and filthy, so there you have it.

Maybe it's time we stop talking about pain. My own pain has dissipated since I began writing, so I guess I should post and distract myself somehow. Take care of yourself, dear reader.

Current Mood: distressed
Current Location: Painful pain

In my previous post (titled Nerd), dear reader, if you were dearly following, I told you I never had an ambition to be always right, yet in this earlier post I wished there was a device that makes everything I say correct.

It may appear contradicting, as if my memory had actually severely failed me and I've lost any meaningful concept of myself and started talking nonsense. This is very much like me and it happens to me a lot, but in this case I would like to elaborate and demonstrate that this time it's not the case.

There can be actually two very distinct devices which make everything I say correct, let's name them corrector and co-corrector.

1. Corrector would modify my speech as I produce it to make sure I don't make mistakes. It'd need to have a power of an oracle to know what is actually correct.
2. Co-corrector would modify the reality as I speak to make sure whatever I say becomes true. It'd need to have a power of a demiurge, the ability to weave reality to its own will and desire.

The power of an oracle (an idealized, all-seeing oracle) is called omnipresence, and the power of a demiurge is known as omnipotence. It's well known that an entity that is both omnipresent and omnipotent is a god. Or is The God. It is not yet known if there's a singular God in this universe or there are many gods who share divine powers amongst each other, or if there are no gods at all. But for the sake of simplicity I will talk about a singular god as an abstract entity.

A god is both a corrector and co-corrector. If that is so, then if you're a corrector, but not co-corrector, you must be a demigod. Co-corrector who is not a corrector is also a demigod. If you wished, you could've named them demigod and co-demigod.

So instead of merely being always right, in that second post I've mentioned I actually wished for, um, having a demigod at my service.

Wouldn't that be cool, dear reader?

Current Mood: hyper
Current Music: Soothing waves

I can see the light.

Isn't that the very essence of seeing? If you see, there must be light, at least that's how our eyes work. Light is a stream of photons, very small particles that move at the speed of light as you might've guessed it. But if you were a photon, it would seem to you that you are moving from place to place instantaneously, because special relativity.

I can see colors, isn't that the essence of seeing? It's certainly not the essence of light, because photons aren't colored. What is colored are photon detectors in our eyes, we have three kinds of them, Red, Green, and Blue, mostly Green, because we as a humanity grew up among greenery, or so we think. What differs between different photons is their frequency, which is a measure of their energy. Different colors are merely flavors of various amount of energies, much like hot and sweet are different flavors of various chemicals found in foods, poisons and other objects.

So it seems the essence of seeing is transduction. It's a generalization of translation. I'd say it's the same for hearing and touching, they're all transductions. Transduction is essential for information to spread, because it's spread across media, and media have different encodings for signals. So a transducer is needed when information leaves a medium and enters a different medium. In seeing, eyes are but one transduction layer, followed by neural processing to form a picture we perceive. A picture so convincing we think it must be the reality itself, until we dream and hallucinate.

I can see the light, but can it see me? What's it like to be the light? To touch all the things around you? To be woven into reality as an infinite thread of refractions and emissions? To allows others see, yet be blind on your own? To be pure free energy?

That, dear reader, I'm only yet to discover.

Current Mood: ditzy
Current Location: Eternity
Current Music: Sounds of stuff around me

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Maria

March 2026

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Fleeting Sense of Feeling Self
On Writing, Dead Ones, and Plowing the Field
Ziggurat
Pain
Trendiness
Essence of Seeing

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Encylopædia Draconica

Who's the anarchist in charge?

Entries tagged with sensitivity

Fleeting Sense of Feeling Self

On Writing, Dead Ones, and Plowing the Field

Ziggurat

Pain

Trendiness

Essence of Seeing