Happenstance and Hedonism

In the new realm of spaced out quests and asinine algorithms one must work hard to find their bearings. I suppose I have been blessed, vehemently grounding myself in the here and now or concerning myself with what most of us call 'reality' has never really been high on my list of priorities or pursuits. Then again I have also been subsequently cursed for exactly the same reasons.
Being a realist holds little charm for someone as disgruntled by the ordinariness of this world as I. It means giving up the quest for happiness in the interest of a quest for practicality. Happenstance over Hedonism – this, will remain a choice I always hope to make in any given situation. And I always remain unsure of my conviction to make the same one regardless of circumstance. I figure, of late, that what challenges me more than anything is my never-ending battle to actively nurture 'denial'.
I don't really subscribe to denial in the conventional sense, or so I like to think. I acknowledge the world, the changing times and all that comes in between with a terse nod of my head, but I do not breathe it in. I examine the context, pick out my preference and sniff the scent and flavours I am willing to absorb, sneezing out the rest. Is this called choosing or plain abstinence, any evangelist would say the latter and in hopes of not being one I'll try to 'choose' the former. Even though this still doesn't preclude me from the good, the bad and the ugly, it makes it easier to pick a side. Whatever that side may be. In my case it usually frames an off kilter kaleidoscope of nothing and everything. Which is why there is little wonder I am as abstract as I am.

This brings me to the next proverbial jack-in-the-box: picking a side.

How does one choose a side, if you cant choose a semblance of the ordinary. The world as we know it, is bound by rules and premises, regardless of our quest for delusions… 'reality' prevails. Denial, must either be absolute or insipid to work…it cannot function half way. One can either be the Fool in all his bumbling glory or the Fascist in his tomb. The mid-route in this particular case means having to walk the path of circumstance on tenterhooks. I can relate, this is my chosen path.

Choices are hard. Really! Sometimes the compromising intensity that they bring with them is superfluous. Having lived in a realm where only dictates existed and choices were perennially absent, I can say that life was perhaps easier. It was ordinary and easy. Being told what to do, what to like, how to live and think…was easy because it discounted any input from the object. The classic case of 'subject' turned 'object'. It was automated, ordinary and practical.

Choices have brought with them rights, along with the persistent struggle of identity. A choice, any choice…from the shade of nail polish one picks to the school you go to, to the man you marry… each one brings with it a new step on your path forged and forayed by your own judgment. The wrongs and rights are your own, as are their fallouts.

It is choice that allows for Delusion.
And it is the picking of the latter that necessitates more choices.