On and off, I do join some folks for jamming sessions. Once in a while during those sessions, I do suddenly find myself caught in some songs where there were just 3 to 4 chords maximum that just kept on cycling mindlessly one after the other.
Such occasions are a real torture to the soul, most especially when you ran out of new ideas what to do over those re-current chords. The torture is especially acute when you know that there outside this 4 chords are a whole universe of chords to explore.
Lately observing the people around me that have entered the work force. It seems their daily lives are imposed strictly within the limits of those 3 to 4 metaphor chords. From an outsider’s stand point, life seemed unbearably tasteless, in a sense tortorous.
I suddenly recalled from one of my lectures in Computer security how random numbers one after the other are created. Random numbers in computing are articifically created through the segmentation of an extremely large prime number. Within the domains of the prime number, all occurances appear random. However once past the pre-specified domain, a pattern starts to appear and becomes painfully apparently
13 expressed in binary will be 1110111100110010001110
We take a section of 4 places each time at an increment of 1 place per interation
On iteration 24th we get 1110 which is exactly simlar to 1
What has first been interesting has started suddenly to become boring, unpredictable and uninformative (Law of Anthrophy) Each additional iteration becomes less and less significant.
Translating it back to every life, we start to live more and more like machines losing our souls to the daily toils of live all for this false sense of security, the need to modulate back to iteration 1, once all available iteration within the set has been exhausted.
Exploring the exceptions available within our limited environment, I suddenly found that though my life has been rather random thus far, it has started to modulate back unto itself. It is starting to get really boring.
The possible solutions I could think of are either to getting myself into a new environment or seriously attempting at getting myself old and senile way ahead of my time.
The first seems pretty hard, with Alena serving as the drag, chaining me to this limited set of permutations with her inherent god be damned need for security and predicability. The second seems highly impossible, considering the fact I am no from the medical field by training.
Perhaps a third then. I think I should quietly slip away once all work has been settled for the year. India looks pretty foreign and exotic a place to explore. Perhaps I should even volunteer myself to work there in one of those NGO venues. That’d be a nice change of sets.
Imagining a existance that last for eternity, where all possible permutations has be tried and exhausted, life be really tortorous that way. Thankfully, we dont live forever.