I don't like what has happened to JU. I think I've made that abundantly plain. But I do like the community. Therefore I have nothing further to say concerning my disappointment in JU2. No doubt I'll get over it. One thing only I will suggest - that the number of possible blog categories be reduced to three: thought, life, blogging. Anything else is over-provision.
I am 48 years old. I feel that I am sixteen. Both my chronological age and my existential estimation of my age are facts of my existence. Both my chronoligical age and my apperception of my age are, therefore, true. They are true because they are integral to my understanding of myself - which is the only measure of truth we have.
You do not, you cannot, know the world until you know yourself - because you are the only measure of the world that you have. It did not matter to me when I turned 30. It did not matter to me when I turned 40. But it will matter a great deal to me when I turn 50. I'm not entirely sure why. Not because some arbitrary societal standard tells me that this age should be important to me; not because it marks my final decline from the peak of my sexual prowess; not because it marks, unbelievably, the halfway mark (and maybe more) of my entire existence as a living breathing thing; no, none of those things are telling though all are contributory.
My fiftieth birthday matters because I seriously did not believe that I would ever see it and I'm not so sure that I am happy to say that I will. But I will; I know it, uncontestably. And knowing it as I do I'm forced to review my existence and ask 'What ground is there for my life, and what justification is there for my continued existence?'
I'm happy to say that my continued existence requires no ground or justification, that it is immune to the requirements of any over-arching ideology, and that it it is safe from any belief system that would require the abnegation of any concept of individuality to the State. Why?
Because anyone who can ask why is free.
Every standard is susceptible to doubt. Every truth is susceptible to anger, and to division. Anyone who claims to know ought to be sacrificed - merely to keep certainty at bay. Being almost 50 sucks. But not as much as being 50 will.