i read something yesterday which was talking about how we have an in-build ability to recognise incredibly complex patterns - about how we can instantly recognise hundreds of people even if we haven't seen them for a long time, and this is quite amazing really when you consider that the human face pretty much more or less the same sort of shape and size etc for everyone, but we are still able to, in a split second, recognise a person as well as instinctively knowing how to act around them, are we friends, are we old lovers, are we hostile or friendly to this person, are we best friends or that kinda sketchy awkward social convention of not total strangers but not really friends either.

it went on to talk about how we can also recognise a series of squiggles on a page as letters, which form words, which in turn describe and explain abstract ideas, and just through this ability to recognise patterns we can communicate with other people. this pattern recognition also works against us though, we see a man's face in the moon, or clouds shaped like animals, of course these things dont exist, but we interpret subtle marks and shapes and form them into patterns which we recognise.

indeed, can we actually ever truly describe anything? i mean, if i write 'teh cat sat on the wall' even this simple sentence is inherintly inaccurate. firstly, i have to witness the event, i have to perceive what is happening, and then react to this perception and create a meaning to it, and assign it a value so i am able to understand it. i have to interpret my perception of what happened, but this is the start of the 'chinese whispers' process. how am i to know whether my perception is actually accurate to what happened? i have to portray this interpretation and perception through the appropriate words, and this is the second stage of inaccuracy, because there are only a finite number of words. one word can be used in a number of situations to describe many things, and so we have to use the same old words which have the general meaning, but could not, and can never, truly describe the 'thing' accurately. to be truly accurate, we must all invent a brand new word for every single thing we ever wanted to describe, and even then these words would only be accurate to ourselves, which in itself is only ever slightly accurate in the first place.

then you have to process the words which i have written, and add your own meanings and interpretatins to them, and thats the third stage of inaccuracy. so, really, there is never any way of truly conveying something to another person, because of the limitations of language, and the limitations of our ability to seperate the 'truth' of an event from our 'percieved truth' of the same event.

it made me wonder whether this was in fact an ability, or whether forming patterns out of everything was in fact a basic need. it made me think that in a world that is worthless, meaningless and pointless, perhaps we are all looking for a way to make sense of life, and by forming patterns, even when there are no patterns there, we can somehow give meaning to something, and thus accept it as existing.

is this why i was so eager to get back what i had lost? perhaps i was just looking for something to give me a meaning, to validate me, if you like. but i have existed for as long as i have existed, and therefore i must validate myself, simply by being. on the other side i could argue that none of us are valid, and seeking validation is fruitless because there is no such thing. either human life is validated the moment it is created, or else we can never gain validation. there is no state of being 'less valid' than before, because nothing changes. it doesnt make you a different person, it doesnt change you. it has no intrinsic value. ("it's just a figure of speech")

we seem to be conditioned with the idea that meaninglessness and emptiness are bad things. but why? why is something bad because it is pointless? if life is an empty room everyone seems so preoccupied with trying to fill that room, with possessions, with friendships, with relationships, with acheivements. clutching at straws because we are so scared of nothingness. we need these things to give us a purpose, we can make sense of things. we can't make sense of nothing.

im not sure about the idea of being in constant despair. as soon as i accept something into my life then i am opening myself up to despair, because it can be taken away? and so, even when im not despairing, im in despair? im not sure about that. im really not. if i was in a pessimistic mood then maybe, but it just seems to suggest that everything is meaningless. but maybe thats what im struggling to get to grips with. what is the meaning. of anything?

"What is this plague, this germ which, like the tubercle bacillus,
lurks within, waiting for the victim's strength to sink
below a certain level so that it may strike?
It is not a new organism. It ravages were predicted
by certain seers of the nineteenth century.
Melville and Hawthorne, Nietzsche and Marx,
Dostoievsky and Kafka all saw it coming in one form or another.
Its actual appearances have been described in some detail
by contemporary poets and painters, playwrights and novelists.
There were and are a few theologians at work on the bacterium,
but for the most part of examination and analysis
are taking place in the secular laboratories.
The germ has a very simple name: meaninglessness.
And the conditions under which it strikes are well known:
when one raises or is confronted by the ultimate questions
about live, about the purpose and meaning of existence,
and discovers that there are no answers;
no answers, that is, that can be believed.
Life seems pointless and empty,
rather cruel and even a little mad."