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Things that are finite bother me. I have somewhat of a compulsive dislike of things that end. I don't like receiving food as gifts, as I know they won't last forever. I don't like things that function upon monthly subscriptions. I don't like visiting family, as I know that it will end. It almost bothers me to go to restaurants, as I know that thereafter, that $10 meal will just be a mere fragment in my long-term attempt at sustenance.

Many of my other idiosyncrasies stem from this. My dislike of throwing things away is because I feel as though throwing something away is like discarding a token of an event, product boxes, especially. I also treat my things as though they all are made of glass. It intensely bothers me if I turn an infinite object into a finite object, or even damage it, turning its original infinite state of condition into a finite state. As I sit here, I am irked by the creased spine of the book sitting on my desk. Losing things is horrible for me too, no matter how insignificant they are.

Interestingly enough, however, I don't think that I will mind death. I suppose that the only thing that I want out of life is accomplishment--success being secondary. I just wish to die knowing that I squeezed every last thing that I could out of my life. Silly, isn't it, how people talk about their lives as though they are significant.
 

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As do I. I try to exert that feature of myself as often as possible.
I'll quote something from "Looking for Alaska."
After we'd passed our quizzes, the Old Man, sitting, grabbed his cane and motioned toward Alaska's fading
question on the blackboard. "Let's look at one sentence on page ninety-four of this very entertaining introduction
to Zen that I had you read this week. 'Everything that comes together falls apart,'" the Old Man said. "Everything.
The chair I'm sitting on. It was built, and so it will fall apart. I'm gonna fall apart, probably before this chair. And you're gonna fall apart. The cells and organs and systems that make you you—they came together, grew together,
and so must fall apart. The Buddha knew one thing science didn't prove for millennia after his death: Entropy
increases. Things fall apart."
We are all going,I thought, and it applies to turtles and turtlenecks, Alaska the girl and Alaska the place, because
nothing can last, not even the earth itself. The Buddha said that suffering was caused by desire, we'd learned, and
that the cessation of desire meant the cessation of suffering. When you stopped wishing things wouldn't fall apart,
you'd stop suffering when they did.
 

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Yeah, I have a similar problem. I don’t do well with loss, it’s linked to my desire to control I think. I perceive it as a step backwards and I’d rather be under the illusion I’m “advancing" in life, gaining ground and thus better off than before.

Death worried me for a while when I was younger. I’m not sure if it still does, if I’ve become numb to it or enough time has passed for me to forget the emotional weight of realising its inevitability.

It’s odd because I can accept most forms of loss gracefully(sometimes even prematurely), yet I still can’t help but perceive it as defeat. It adds up over time.
I don’t know why I let it occur so easily, either I don’t care enough or I’m an emotional masochist.
 

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Wen I was a kid, I hated throwing away toothbrushes for this reason. Well, I think I kind of felt bad for them. You know, they clean off my grubby teeth all the time and all the thanks they get is to get thrown out when I get a fancy new one?

In all earnestness, though, I'd like to know what you conceive of as an "infinite object." the phrase sort of arrested me.

Rereading Grapes of Wrath last night, though,I was struck by how wasteful we have become. For them all the modern throwaway items were kept and used for various purposes. Perhaps your tendency to hang on to stuff is actually more responsible, if you put that remarkable mind to use on how to make them useful for you.
 

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黐線 ~Chiseen~
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That's like hoarding for procrastinators.
You have no idea... Trying to get rid of the stuff you don't buy through procrastination is a chore and a half in itself.


On another note.. I just woke up... I keep reading the topic as "On Fitness and Death".... uh... wtf? derp derp... still derping.
 

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Things that are finite bother me. I have somewhat of a compulsive dislike of things that end. I don't like receiving food as gifts, as I know they won't last forever. I don't like things that function upon monthly subscriptions. I don't like visiting family, as I know that it will end. It almost bothers me to go to restaurants, as I know that thereafter, that $10 meal will just be a mere fragment in my long-term attempt at sustenance.
I identify with this. More when I was younger (my "raw" self). I hated temporary things just like you did and only really wanted to invest in things that would last, and food and other consumables seemed like such a waste.

I think I have reached a point in my life now where I realize that NOTHING lasts, not really (I have lost some things that should have been enduring) -- permanance is an illusion -- and since experiences and connections have become more important to me, everything is on an equal playing field and it doesn't bother me nearly as much to spend money on things with limited duration.

Many of my other idiosyncrasies stem from this. My dislike of throwing things away is because I feel as though throwing something away is like discarding a token of an event, product boxes, especially. I also treat my things as though they all are made of glass. It intensely bothers me if I turn an infinite object into a finite object, or even damage it, turning its original infinite state of condition into a finite state. As I sit here, I am irked by the creased spine of the book sitting on my desk. Losing things is horrible for me too, no matter how insignificant they are.
Same here. I used to be the packrat. I also am very careful with my things and don't even much like others to use them, because they might damage them or lose them. Again, age and time has lessened the severity of that response. I've had to move a lot in the last few years and discard things that were not priority, and I've lost things I cared about (whether because of relationships ending or natural disasters ruining them), and I no longer like to lug a lot around. Mobility is important. If I can "capture something in my heart" and then let the physical part of it go, all the better.

Interestingly enough, however, I don't think that I will mind death. I suppose that the only thing that I want out of life is accomplishment--success being secondary. I just wish to die knowing that I squeezed every last thing that I could out of my life. Silly, isn't it, how people talk about their lives as though they are significant.
Same here. Not "success" per se, but I want to have lived fully. I wasted far too much of my life in a dead rut, there are years I will never get back. I don't know if anything exists but this life, and so I want to use it and experience and learn whatever I can, for my own quality of life.
 

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This will likely be the defining struggle of my existence.

The family dog died when I was five. It was the most disturbing experience of my life up until that point. When the cat died shortly thereafter, I had had enough. After that, I dreaded each moment when my parents would bring a new animal home. To this day, notwithstanding additional, unmentioned contributing philosophical considerations, this is the reason I cannot stand pets. I do not like them in a box, or with a fox, or with green eggs and ham . . . fuck 'em. What's the use? They always just fucking die. Can't handle it. I love animals, but I will never have pets again.

And so it goes with everything. I have no great love for money. I don't even have much use for it, really. And yet I can count on one hand the number of discretionary purchases I've made over the past few years. What good will this do me? I'll just end up throwing it out in the end. Even concerning purchases from which I might foreseeably derive great pleasure, I cannot escape the feeling that I'm pissing precious savings down the drain.

It's not that I'm in denial. I operate under no delusions of ultimately avoiding temporality and impermanence. And curiously enough, death does not particularly perturb me (though it did at one time).

On the contrary, I am acutely and viscerally aware of the ephemeral reality. And my awareness sucks the joy and life out of everything I do. Predictably, this has profound implications for my motivation and ability to set goals. Even on rare occasions when I overcome inertia and move to affirmatively act on my behalf, perspective, ultimate futility, and the eventuality of emptiness intrude so violently upon my consciousness that even the immediate, unconditional pleasure of pure experience becomes impossible to know. Part of this is my fault, to be sure. To conclude that I am excessively preoccupied with the future and entropy would be a vast understatement. But I don't know any other way to live.

At this point, I've rationalized away the incentive to do anything; I am left to wallow in languor and vacuity. I've almost stripped myself of the ability to feel entirely so that I cannot experience loss. Then again, as one of my favorite artists so prophetically exclaims:

"When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal"
 

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Same here. I used to be the packrat. I also am very careful with my things and don't even much like others to use them, because they might damage them or lose them. Again, age and time has lessened the severity of that response. I've had to move a lot in the last few years and discard things that were not priority, and I've lost things I cared about (whether because of relationships ending or natural disasters ruining them), and I no longer like to lug a lot around. Mobility is important. If I can "capture something in my heart" and then let the physical part of it go, all the better.
I can't believe I forgot to mention how moving plays into this for me. I've developed a particular disdain for moving. I've moved 8 times and I'm not even out of high school yet. It's not so much the different environments, as under analysis, I've concluded that I actually like the "changes in scenery". Rather, I hate how all of my things get jumbled up, damaged, lost, or even left behind. Nothing bothers me more than not being able to find something. I still cannot wrap my head around how people can just throw things away or leave them behind--but you may wish to attribute that to immaturity. I suppose you may be right. It's unfortunately hard for me to break away from my default mode of thinking...
 

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"I don't like to discard things so I don't even buy them in the first place."
That's like hoarding for procrastinators.
Who said that? I love things. I just don't like discarding them. So I don't.
 

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I'll quote something from "Looking for Alaska."
The Buddha said that suffering was caused by desire, we'd learned, and that the cessation of desire meant the cessation of suffering. When you stopped wishing things wouldn't fall apart, you'd stop suffering when they did.
Thank you for posting that. I've found the more I let go, particularly of objects and desiring objects, the happier I am.
 

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I can't believe I forgot to mention how moving plays into this for me. I've developed a particular disdain for moving. I've moved 8 times and I'm not even out of high school yet. It's not so much the different environments, as under analysis, I've concluded that I actually like the "changes in scenery". Rather, I hate how all of my things get jumbled up, damaged, lost, or even left behind. Nothing bothers me more than not being able to find something. I still cannot wrap my head around how people can just throw things away or leave them behind--but you may wish to attribute that to immaturity. I suppose you may be right. It's unfortunately hard for me to break away from my default mode of thinking...
Next year I will move for the 19th time in my life. Each time it gets easier and easier to let go of things. On my last move, I didn't take any furniture except for a couple bookcases, and was able to fit everything I own and my two cats into an SUV.

If I find myself feeling particularly attached to specific objects, I give them away to friends. I did this with books, my N64 and my gamecube, trinkets, plants... I find the act of giving is therapeutic enough to make up for the "loss" of the item.

I still feel like I have too much stuff.
 
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