"I Know What You're Thinking - Why Didn't I Take The Blue Pill?"

You know why we're here. I mean, aside from the usual reasons like boredom, God's indirect action in the world (take that, Peter Vardy) or surfing the net. We're here because of us. you're here, basically, because you put yourself there. That's the important bit. You did. You might tell me you were thrown into the computer chair. You might suggest that society doesn't let you do anything else. You might not be able to say anything because you're tied to the floor. It doesn't matter, really. It's all your fault. No don't argue. Don't argue at all. I've already been through this before. It's all about you. Everything is. Ultimately, you sat through all those school assemblies because you wanted to. You didn't brutally murder the old lady living across the road because you chose not to. There might have been incentive bonuses to try and sway you. Maybe even the threat of death or the loss of your basic human rights. But nothing removes the choice. So you're here because you chose to come here. Right? Of course. Sartre would be proud of the both of us. But why am I here? Is it enough to simply say because I chose to? I don't think so. I'm here for myself, true. But in a different way. I try to coax people into writing blogs like these, but they rarely do so. Either they're scared of people reading what they've written, or they think they can't write anything worth writing. Well right now I'm writing a load of rubbish about something completely unimportant. And hey - you're still reading it. Aren't you? Yup. Don't think I can't see you. Writing is all about self expression. I can't write poetry. I know that some people can, but I simply can't. I also can't paint. I've got a GSCE in art, but that was from the canvas of a PC monitor, and I used pixels, not pastels. But I can write. I can write, and see what falls onto these pages. I know sometimes I might not make any sense, but only through writing can I make sense of myself. And so back to the main thrust of this article. You. Me. They. Us. We're here because we should be. Because we're trying to find out what we're here for. Not our place in the cosmic balance - I know most of you don't believe in such crap. Maybe not our mission from God - as I'm sure even less of you believe in that. But our place in humanity, and the place we want in humanity (as they are often radically different). I argue a lot with people. I've been described as intimidating, mean, rash and thoughtless at various times. But everything I do I do because it is who I am. And I can't escape that, no matter how much I try. Others are happy to sit tight and take what comes - through ignorance or reason, I can't tell - but I cannot do that. It is not who I am. But who are you? Who are you, really? Are you happy with the nine-to-five that Mufkin describes? Do all those hazy friday evenings fulfil you? Do they make you whole? Do you think that one day they'll just disappear and you'll suddenly be in your dream job with two-point-four-children and a villa in Spain? If so, good luck to you. Self is about evolution. Most people are more atuned to self-deception than self, however. I thought I'd write some more temperate articles on this blog, instead of the usual preachiness. And then I thought... no. That's not the way. Okay, I can't go shouting and finger-pointing every time I post. But on the other hand there's no point in concealing my emotions behind a wall of maybes. Yes, this article might be a mess. But I guess that reflects some aspects of my life - and my desk - right now. It's all about me, myself and I. And I think now I realise that.