no wife with shiny straight ginger hair for me

Not going to plan for retirement save for retirement, retire and age and die in a hospital. Not going to plan my life in 10 year intervals climb the property ladder decide exactly how unbearable I want my last few years to be and plan accordingly. Not going to find no attractively dressed female whose emotional and practical skillset perfectly complements my own and marry and start a family, so that we will have younger people to look after us and make the horrible old age slightly more pleasant.

Not going to happen most likely.

Apartment is not going to be sparklingly clean nor situated exactly half way between where is cheapest and where is most convenient. Not going to integrate self into local community and get to know all my neighbours so that if one of us dies or otherwise gets into serious trouble we don’t just lie there and rot.

Not going to pay someone to ask me to estimate how much I love different people and draw up a will accordingly.

Not going to have a tv and watch box sets.

I might go on holidays to explore different parts of the country and purchase experiences, but it’s going to feel weird as hell especially if I’m doing it on my own.

Not going to go shopping for clothes if I can possibly avoid it.

Not going to feel like I really own anything.

What happens instead is one day the bright light shining into my bedroom window really is a nuclear bomb. What happens is some kind of war or political instability or terrorism or bio-whatever or I don’t know some kind of AI run amok or I’m unable to work again and starve and nobody cares or I lose my keys at the absolute most inconvenient time.

What happens is an official looks at my paperwork one day and decides no.

That panic I feel when I’m looking for some document and can’t remember where I put it, or if I even had one like that, only this time it’s something really serious. That feeling I have when I’m faced with an emergency, except this time the emergency is about me.

Not going to design my life as if it’s the 1950’s. It’s the 2050’s – or will be – and we’re not living in the shadow of the bomb any more. Instead it’s all we can ever imagine. And it’s not just the bomb any more it’s 10 other things just as bad.

Future is AI-fuelled utopian bliss or singleton-locked nightmare or oblivion, no room for any middle ground with suburban wife vacuuming & looking good for her age.

There are no plans there’s goals. The goals must be epic and meet the approval of a pragmatic but hyper-ambitious elite. If it’s not solving malaria, or poverty, or ageing or teaming up and helping others do the same, well then I guess it could be to end factory farming or stop all wild animals from tearing each other to pieces.

There are two kinds of people in this world. There are the morally relevant – those who care about how their hair looks, which blouse goes with which skirt and whether they have parasites or TB. And then there are the agents – the people with goals that extend beyond themselves and pursue them with ruthless utilitarian efficiency. There are agents and there are footnotes, and you can’t be a footnote any more.

Clean the apartment, go on, it’s step 1 of 10 needed to accomplish one of your minor goals. But it’ll always be a struggle, like shouldn’t a robot be doing this? Or someone with a comparative advantage? Or it’ll be the future soon and there won’t be such a thing as dirt or chores, only pain and bliss and sexuality decoupled from any rigid social whatever.

Live every day like it’s your last, well I do but they keep coming. If it was my last day I wouldn’t bother having a good time because hey who’s going to remember and I certainly wouldn’t go around making plans for what to do next week. I can’t carry on putting things off until after the apocalypse but somehow it is hard telling myself that.

And in the meantime, people worry about me.

Our world is lies, and they’re not lies about really big obvious things that you can point out and be like wake up it’s all a lie. It’s lies or more like general mistakenness or sloppy thinking around I’m not really sure what but things like how resources should be allocated and how tradeoffs should be made and about how it’s worth understanding the other side of an argument even if at the time it seems like someone making that argument must be really dumb.

How do you operate in this kind of a world? Kind of badly it seems.

It’s not like learning about Less Wrong and Effective Altruism made me this way though. I was like this before – at least the part where I struggled to get things done, or had no confidence at all in finding a lady. Being socially isolated and being averse to the whole concept of owning possessions were also always me (though not to the point of being an off the grid hippy, that would require actual effort and quite a lot of it).

Also none of this is actual EA policy btw.

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