Double down. in Book Title.

I hate thinking of titles for my musings. I hate the word musings. It seems so pretentious, implying the literary nature of your journey. I hate the idea that life is a journey. Is this an adventure? Is there some definable movement or destination? The word journey is heavier than the interchangeable options.

Life is a process. Life is a queue. Life is a cycle. Life is a hike. Life is a roadtrip. Life is a ride. Life is a road. Life is a staircase. Life is a hallway. Life is a gift. So on and so forth until your head spins and life becomes a merry go round.

Journey implies a passage of time, an expenditure of resources, a fortitude to keep going, a place or concept of destination, a sense of fruition at the end of things. It seems like a valuable accomplishment.

Life is abstract. It doesn’t take you. It doesn’t raise you. There’s nothing to say that simply explains the way of things. Everything changes and looks different from other angles.

I hate the idea of hating things as a go to explaination of your deep feelings of opposition concerning values and instincts that stem from our lineage as far back as nomads and survival intuition. I hate nothing. I’m not sure what it feels like. It’s an oxymoronic concept- to love something that hurts you until its destruction is more important than resolving the pain. Why the fuck can’t you walk away?