the Absolute loss of the Absolute

We live in a world where there has been a complete and utter loss in the Absolute.

In my few years of intellectual study at the university, scores of research in the humanities have only taught me to unlearn everything i knew in my younger days, where the textbook affirmed a sense of truth and certainty. In every study and academic article, I am told that there is no resolution or agreement on any matter. That there are too many possibilities in the construction of a Truth that is constantly on trial as prosecuters question it's identity and it's existence. This crisis in meaning is regretful indeed, for as a lowly undergraduate student, i am faced with a speechless argument. All the evidence i have been taught to use to substantiate my argument are but hollow as their own substantial evidence fails. The grand pyramid of meaning has come to an absolute loss, and only those who are brave enough to confront it are rendered silent by the abyss of meaning.

I've always been very good at memorizing facts and fictions. Whatever it was that i was taught at school, it was certainly not for it's content, but the way to remember this or that. So now as i am confronted with this problem where i have to create meaning, i find myself baffled and irrefutably stupid. The inability to articulate something that is a mere haze, that i am completely blameless for, makes me feel even less able to deal with fact that i am in this situation. The majority of the student population would inevitably say that I am "thinking too much", a curse of those who seek to discover. But what of those people who like me, seek for that ultimate purpose, delving ourselves into the depths of the years of wise words only to emerge and realise that the real truth was that there was none at all?

the study of the humanities came from the Greeks, refined in the Renaissance, and it's focus was to draw man (or woman, in this postmodern age) into their inner beings and contemplate their powers of production and agency. it's aim was to uplift and enlighten the individual, making himself both a subject and object of his own understanding. yet in our contemporary world, to the very same purpose we have discovered far too much, and that has destablized our world. Progress in the arts and sciences have corrupted us, and i find it tremendously funny that progress, that old fashioned, 'bourgeois' term is still the bloody credo for my home goverment. Perhaps we desperately cling on to the old to keep some structure in our lives, to prevent upheaval and chaos. this denial has inevitably had an impact on me, growing up in that glass box atmosphere, and as I unfold and unlearn the years of fake, plastic packaging, I realised that there would be no turning back once the raw heart is exposed to that dark and endless universe.

This then, leads me to conclude again to an all familiar position. The failure of logic and rationality. The only objective truth for you and me isn't the proof of what is and what is not, since there isn't ever an infallible one. It is the subjective experience of senses and feelings that creates our reality, and they dont need to be justified or argued for since there isn't ever an unquetionable truth of the matter. I feel sorry for the rationalists who are still attempting to cling on to that meagre ounce of meaning through their "justifications", forgetting that their assumptions are flawed to begin with. We are living the century of absurdity, under the pathetic mask of civilized rhetoric leftover from the past. so instead of denying yourselves the pleasure, please, embrace the true anarchy and disorder of this life.

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"A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrownInto a fine distraction --
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher --
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly --
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat --
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility --
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part."