I've made a lot of mistakes in my mind

The writers of Ghost in the Shell really could have skipped all the animated robot nudity and phoned-in plot, and boiled that film down to a very thought-provoking introductory philosophy lecture.

It got me thinking, though, that's the point. If you replace every constituent part of a human being one by one, do you still have a human being? And is it the same human being? You don't need cybernetic implants to face that paradox, though; all the cells in my body die and regenerate at regular intervals, and even they are composed of circulating molecules that are broken, reordered, replaced, recirculated constantly within and among the cells.

As far as anyone can prove, I am a chemical process between trillions of organic molecules, regulated by a self-replicating chemical "program". Under an electron microscope, you can't see the forest for the trees; but that's because a forest is just a word we use to describe a whole lot of trees all together.

If I am only the sum of my constituent parts, then the oldest part of me is seven years old; and what am I, if not a thief, a usurper? My infant body has been dead for fifteen years, flushed out piece-by-piece and excreted by a different sort of body, which was gradually rejected and destroyed by another, and another, and then I killed that one and here I am.

My memories of being fifteen, or eleven, or five, then, are just the ghosts of those dethroned kings, haunting me on the periphery of my thoughts. I didn't do any of that; I stole it from the old and dying neurons I replaced. And when this body dies, you won't notice; but will I? And will I haunt the new possessor of my identity with vague memories of "his" ill-spent twenties?

I reject all these suppositions, but it's a good thing to scare yourself with before bed. A scientist from the 1700s, knowing nothing about radio waves or satellites, might empirically examine a cellular phone in the middle of a call and determine it to be a sentient thing, as he could find no external source for its intelligence. The only evidence he would have against this hypothesis would be the voice's own insistence. Likewise, I believe I am more than just an elaborate, self-amplifying chemical reaction; but my own insistence is all I have to go on.

--Kevin

When the world ends, you and me, we'd just be beginning

For the last six months, my life has been a slow crescendo of dissonance, until last week I could hardly stand to be inside my own head. But everything is quiet now--I had almost forgotten it could be so quiet. All my fear, doubt, guilt, uncertainty, jealousy... it's all over. I was lying in bed when it happened, and I actually said it out loud. It's over.

Tonight, my cousin Becky opened her mission call, and she's going to Kaohsiung, Taiwan. I wished I could communicate to her what she was about to be given, but the Lord reserves the right to surprise us with these things. She's going to be on the other side of the planet--it's 2 pm tomorrow over there, how cool is that--learning things for which nothing here could possibly prepare her, of which she has only the vaguest idea. But she's so on fire, and I felt it spread into me. We are a blessed people, to be given this kind of adventure.

I feel simultaneously envious of her, and more excited about my own mission. For the first time in my life, I feel like there isn't enough time in the day to accomplish everything I want, and it doesn't feel stressful at all. I can never get my money's worth out of the buffet either, but it's still nice to know that it's all-you-can-eat.

--Kevin

Tem-per-ance (n.) : moderation or restraint in action, expression, etc.; self control.

I threw out all my video games today. There's about $1,000 worth of aluminum-coated polycarbonate plastic in my wastebasket right now (at least, that's what it was worth when I bought it). Most of them are at least a decade old and don't work anymore, but I didn't like it.

I did it because I couldn't think of any good thing I was getting from them. But it was sentimental; if I had had a wholesome traditional childhood I might have a Red Ryder BB gun or a catcher's mitt left over from those days; but instead I have memories of spending Christmas "Knee-Deep in the Dead" with my 32-bit chainsaw, or playing Ultima 7 at Grandma's house until 5 AM (because you can do what you want at Grandma's house).

So it was a little sentimental. But I just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and I feel a new sense of urgency about my life. After all, I may someday find myself wandering a blighted, sunless hellscape, trying not to get raped and eaten. So I've resolved to take advantage of the biosphere while I've got one, and just make better use of my time in general. It's a little ridiculous, but I'm only about 30% joking. That book scared me out of my mind.

--Kevin