How much longer do I have to put up with this uneasy sensation of wishing to be somewhere other than I am?
As usual, I am grappling with agency. On a personal level, as well as on the level of individuals in society, always trying to take control and simultaneously experiencing a lack of control. This struggle for power in the very dispersed Foucauldian sense, every interaction at every level infused with a power dynamic; but also the very personal levels at which agency gets realized, on the body itself, and in its near vicinity, agency as the action and reaction in-the-moment, a present, spatial dimension of human experience, a thing (the thing) we can do.
My days are a nightmare of purposelessness. I am altogether passive and muddy, undefined, undirected. And no will to change, a complete passivity, and apathy, an inability to act. What dysfunctional genetic programming is this! I am baffled.
I don’t mean to let myself off the hook. In fact, the opposite. I am punished by dread and self-loathing about all this shit. I try to see if in fact I can just assert my will and become the active person I want and fail to be. The anxiety of not meeting this minimum standard of action in the world shocks and terrifies me. I feel stripped of a certain dimension of possibility. Randy Newman said it best. “How come I never do what I’m supposed to do? How come nothing that I do ever turns out right?”