The first thing I do when I wake up in the mornings is open three different apps on my phone.
In no particular order, I go from Instagram to TikTok to Substack. The real star of the three, and my own guilty pleasure, is Substack. I love to start my day with existentialist writing that reminds me of just how finite my time on Earth is.
It gives me an extra boost in the mornings; that feeling that the clock is ticking, that there is constantly a stout white rabbit in a petticoat tapping his pocket watch and saying, “You’re late, Merjan! You’re late for a very important date!”
After scrolling through what can only be described as a sweeping oversimplification of Nietzsche, I swipe aimlessly through my TikTok feed, being hit back-to-back with pseudo-critical explanations of why the world is currently on fire. Buzzword after buzzword, there’s an endless stream of answers to the burning questions of our categorical imperative, the meaning of life, dichotomies that inhibit human potential, and why modern society is collapsing. It’s obviously because we, as a society, have neglected the sentiment that all human beings should recognize the privileged upbringing they’ve had. After all, if they don’t, they are failing to dismantle the societal structures that reinforce a post-colonial hive mind.
Let us not forget about the ongoing polarization problem perpetuated by people who refuse to open up to contrasting opinions. This is primarily because, on an ideological level, the opposition lacks a critical and nuanced understanding of what it really means to exist in a paradoxical society that posits itself to have no true means for an even less important end. And we really need to hold space for that.
Jargon-filled sentences spill out of the mouth of each new self-proclaimed expert; their thesis is the most important, profound, life-changing piece of writing to have ever been written. Each time I refresh Substack, fifteen more articles pop up under every new search query.
It seems the constant stream of noise is never-ending. There’s always going to be someone saying something that is really just what some other person said three weeks ago. But this time, they tie in a critical misandrist perspective, combining it with Kafkaesque syntax that really explains the epicurean aspects of humanity. Thinking becomes a performance, a preening of intellect to the furthest degree. Guided by the same passive voice of their predecessor, the Substack philosopher meaningfully adds analytical word vomit that contributes to the pervasive discourse of today, just reworded and reframed as a bold new representation of a pressing, manufactured problem in the modern world.
So I take matters into my own hands; I open a new document and get to work.
A commentary on Freudian thought and how it has shaped the post-modern impression of hedonism. I skimmed a couple of articles from Google Scholar, and my professor talked about Freud in my general psychology class, so I’d say I’m actually overqualified to comment on this issue. My essay has everything it needs to catch a wandering eye — it has so much nuance to offer that I’m almost hesitant to post it. I know others are going to rip off my idea, claiming it as their own when, really, my original research allowed this piece to come to life.
It’s perfect, it’s pristine, and it’s a tasteful balance between jargon and contradiction. I hit publish, and my piece is immediately met with loud praise and support. I realize that my niche article doesn’t actually create dialogue, but simply restates a problem in an even less substantive way!
The only difference is that my article elicited a more fervent reaction than any other commentary remotely similar to it. And it got 4,567 likes on Substack! Inaccuracies, baseless claims, and misinterpretations of complex schools of thought do not matter to me. The most important factor is that I am the most reverberant voice, because who really cares about generating real, moving dialogue in a world that is so wrapped up in the latest trend? Clarity and accuracy don’t garner attention in the way half-truths and provocation do.
In a world where clicks and internet acclaim control the narrative of the modern human project, why should it matter what I write about, how I write it, and what it really means from a broader perspective? Why should I have to reflect, ponder, and think of what the words sprawled across the screen are saying or doing? We have Kant and Descartes to worry about the semantics. My goal is to reach as many minds as quickly and as publicly as I possibly can. The sheer volume of words, the long, esoteric sentences, all of it is carefully crafted to provoke.
Because, after all, the loudest opinion often becomes the truth — all it takes is determination.
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