Sixth proof of my existence: on Kierkegaard and the nature of Choice and Anxiety

I guess, in essence, this subject leaves me confused. I mean, what really makes us people? Do we get to make choices, or do we have the illusion of choice? Does lucidity in choosing mean that we are capable of actually living life passionately, or is that something else entirely?

I wish I had answers to this. My life lately has changed drastically, and I'm not quite sure where the pieces are going to fall now that they're in the air. Equally important, I think, is the fact that I'm not sure which I'm more anxious about- the reality of my situation, or the multitude of possibilities stemming from this reality. I honestly do not know what is going on or what is going to happen, but what I do know is that it's happening. Were I to be the sailor on this ship, I'm not so certain that I even HAVE a sail, let alone a rudder, but I do know that the current is pulling me along and that I'm entirely lucid of that fact. Does this mean that I'm living in the right way? Am I still the master of my fate, even if I'm not sure what my choices are, since I'm subconsciously deciding what to do?

I don't know. I'm curious as to what Kierkegaard would say about my situation. I feel like he'd have good insight, whether or not we're religiously compatible, and I'd love to hear him talk about it. I'm just so lost right now, and to hold onto the metaphor, it would be really, really nice to have an anchor to just hold the current so that I could weigh out my options and see what all my decisions are. Rather than that being the case, I need to choose and I need to choose quickly, or else I'll be swept up by the current. Does that mean that I'm actively letting my circumstances decide my life, though?

I hope not. Regardless, I'm anxious, and I don't even have the luxury of know what of.

Fifth Proof of my existence: On Clemence, Judgement, and the nature of Guilt

Post? What post? Do you think Clemence would post? I think you're avoiding your own judgement by judging me for not having a 300 word post. That's rude, isn't it?

Fourth Proof of my Existence: Self reflection on Clemence

I suppose, in a very real, though simultaneously surreal, way, I find myself mirrored in Jean-Baptiste Clamence, from Albert Camus' "The Fall". There have been many points in my life where I have felt like everything was handed to me, from very simple things like finding money on the ground, to the slightly more complicated cases that Clamence describes with the nature of his charm; sometimes, in fact, it feels like I'm watching somebody else's life. It's not really a good or bad thing, necessarily, but I think it's a side effect of my reading the story, especially with it being written in the second person perspective.

We talked in class about him Clamence being arrogant, being a braggart and prideful man; however, I insist this is not the case. I believe that Clamence is, rather than sharing a story with the intention of elucidating his listener, merely recollecting what happened to him. I think the character is being simply honest, and I do not agree that it's a form of boasting. Were it the case that he was being boastful, would he not skip or at the least streamline the negative sides of the story? Why would he brag about his mistakes and shortcomings in the first place? I guess I just don't understand how he can be seen that way, I suppose.

Also, one thing that struck me about the novel is that I find Clamence to be strikingly similar to the protagonist of Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club", in so far as he begins the story with everything he wants- his self reflection is a matter of finding definition, of deciding to continue living- and then there's a moment of clarity (be it Clamence hearing the laughter or the meeting of Tyler Durden) and following that it becomes a game of self destruction. So following my disagreement with Clamence's exposition being a matter boasting, I have to ask; what if Clamence is not recollecting his past to us, the readers, but rather he is recanting to himself? Could that, perhaps, be why there is such honesty and clarity, not to mention the lyrical and stream of consciousness form of the novel? I must say, I'm curious, and I might go so far as to declare that I believe that Camus wrote this novel as a character study on his own ideal self. Obviously I'm not certain, but I think it would be fitting, especially as a foil to his stark and simple Mersault from "The Stranger". Anyways, I'm just curious.