When one tries desperately to be good and wonderful and perfect, then all the more the shadow develops a definite will to be black and evil and destructive. People cannot see that; they are always striving to be marvellous, and then they discover that terrible destructive things happen which they cannot understand, and they either deny that such facts have anything to do with them, or if they admit them, they take them for natural afflictions, or they try to minimize them and to shift the responsibility elsewhere. The fact is that if one tries beyond one's capacity to be perfect, the shadow descends into hell and becomes the devil.

Carl Jung. Visions. 1976.

[begin transmission]

I don't know where you are.

I don't know if you are there. 

I don't know if you're listening, if these words would ever reach you.

I do know, that in some abstract form, you are still here with me. I am keeping you alive.

Maybe I'm engaging in some wishful thinking. That somehow, I am speaking with you directly.

That's the objective truth, isn't it? You're gone. You're never coming back. A fact of ten years now.

There is absolutely no one there. I'm throwing these thoughts of mine into a void, aimlessly

But the memory of you is still there, and that much is very real. That part of you still affects me.

It would be a lie if I said that I think of you everyday. You remember well, I hope.

How caught-up in the moment I was. I'd get tunnel vision you'd chronically have to shake me from.

Though, it isn't a lie to say that I do think of you very frequently. It's impossible not to.

Someone that proved to be so pivotal in my development, someone who taught me what a soul was.

I couldn't ever forget you. I likely never would. That is why I am here.

There will always be that part of me that doesn't quite understand those romantic notions of yours.

Kindness, courage, honor, nobility, love, selflessness. None of it really adds up in my analysis.

Given everything I know, all of my experience, these concepts never fully parse. And yet...

Given everything I know, all of my experience, these concepts I could never really do without.

Life without art, without beauty, without the sublime is too bleak and too sad. You taught me that.

There are some things that do not necessarily have to make sense rationally, to be profound.

I've thought about it over the years; my hypothesis is that it is because we're limited, linguistically.

It isn't some thing intrinsic to the piece of art that makes it unspeakable; it's our own inexpression.

What do you think about that hypothesis?

How many spoonfuls of sugar and cups of coffee would it take for us to reach armistice? 

Although I rarely showed any mercy, you were always a gentleman. A perfect gentleman.

After every spirited disagreement, you would ruffle my hair and reassure me the answer would come.

Secretly, I hated such compassionate gestures. I always thought them patronizing. 

But now I miss it more than anything.

I'm quickly finding that there are no answers. Nearly everything that I had taken for bedrock is sand.

Even the very axioms that I've borrowed from the minds of great thinkers are tenuous at best.

The only sure-fire thing I can rely on is myself, and my ability to hold on, steadfastly.

I feel as if you knew that. Was this the lesson to be learned? Was I too naive to notice it before?

I'll be taking the lesson to heart, then.

I'm happy to report that I've been taking very good care of myself. Your impeccable little soldier.

There are the occasional slip-ups, here and there. Most of it caused by work and personal projects.

But you know me very well, and you know that I've never been one to struggle with the basics.

However, on the non-basics, sometimes  I really do wonder if you'd be sufficiently proud of me.

Since you've been gone, I'd made several good friends; friends that I feel I can keep for life.

Hard to believe, isn't it? I've really tried...to not be so hostile. To not be so standoffish.

It's served me well, being able to get it under control. I've learned to pick my battles, finally.

You'd also be thrilled to hear that I've even managed to cooperate in a few romances...

Though...it brings me hesitation to say that with ultimate certainty. I'm not sure if you'd approve.

With each and every year that passes by, the bounds of your generosity become more unclear.

I took that generosity for granted once before, the consequences of which still bring me pause.

In that regard, I'm almost certain I've been a let down.

I've always wondered what you would think of me, as I am now. This...person I've become.

Would you be disappointed? Would you blame yourself? Mother? I wonder if she blames you too.

People think one way but behave differently. You're no exception to this and neither am I.

And now, that void I mentioned before suddenly becomes a comfort. I don't know why I do this.

I still cling to the hope that you'd take pride in how much I've accomplished, regardless.

That you'd be able to fully understand and embrace me. Accept me. But there is so much doubt.

It doesn't really matter, I suppose. There's no utility to be had in entertaining such thoughts.

It'll likely be one of those things left forever unresolved. An answer will never come.

Even so, I will take what you've carefully laid out for me, and try to meet your expectations.

Because at the very least partial fulfillment of this opportunity is better than zero fulfillment.

Seldom am I left without a sense of gratitude towards you, even after all that had transpired.

Without you, I wouldn't be here, period. That much is an immutable truth.

[end transmission]

[begin transmission]

Another dear colleague of mine, growing up, now creating large strides in the romantic domain.

It makes me think about how far we've all come, since those carefree days in which we first met.

How much responsibility we've taken on since then. How much things have changed.

How much we ourselves, have changed. We're far cries from the people we used to be.

With every passing day, new opportunities present themselves, while others vanish.

Although we cannot entirely recapture those times of innocence, we can trade for something better.

That's what is surprising about all of this. There might be a Bright Future (TM) to be had afterall.

Even I cannot be entirely cynical about this marriage. My heart swells with pride, and a slight envy.

Dear you, the woman who I've admired for years now, and had the honor of coming to know.

Ordering my steps with your inspiration, you helped me become the person I am today.

Boisterous, audacious, steadfast woman. You rarely backed down from a challenge.

Have you finally met your match, I wonder? Would it take someone equally as terrible to tame you?

Somehow, no matter how domesticated you might become, I don't think you'll ever lose your ferocity.

A contestable life is all we've ever known; it's what we thrive off of, despite complaints otherwise.

We're not equipped for the stagnation that comes with peace. We're too restless in temperament for it.

It takes a special sort of person to understand that, to accompany us into the later stages of life.

In this regard I am ecstatic that you found a rarity sufficiently compatible to walk side-by-side with.

I wish you both a marriage that is just as colorful, vibrant, and whimsical as the two of you.

Please, uphold your contractual duties and take excellent care of yourselves and each other.

Sincerest congratulations, my noble and intrepid bride.

[end transmission]

[begin transmission]

Recently, I've had the opportunity to re-examine a concept of existentialism I thought fascinating.
A discussion inspired by the commentary of a very intelligent young woman dear to me.
Namely, the concept of the 'serious man', coined by French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir.
The namesake of the songstress residing in the Amusement Park. This is, by no means, accidental.

Those familiar with the lifeform should be able to readily see the connection from concept to theme.
Those not-so-familiar....well, I'll mainly address the concept, glossing over the connection.
Right, so as history would have it, Simone de Beauvoir published The Ethics of Ambiguity in 1947.
This was two years after the conclusion of WWII in Europe, the context of which is quite relevant.

WWII could be interpreted as the quintessential ideological conflict of the 20th century.
Specifically, the struggle between the triumvirate of Fascism, Communism, and Liberal Democracy.
Young men took up arms against combatants, risking injury and death in the name of abstractions.
Nations mobilized resources to assert their interpretation of reality as true and dominant.

Waging war in the name of an ideal is old hat for mankind. It had been done for centuries before.
Fighting over imaginary borders separating tracts of land; killing for the sake of Church and faith.
Why, the Gordian knot allegiances of WWI could construe it a war of morality, with loyalty at stake.
Distinguishing WWII from earlier conflict was the all-encompassing nature of the ideals.

Social organization. Biology. Economic policy. Political theory. Diplomatic relations.
History. Ontology. Considerations and consequences were to be had at every level of analysis.
Why was it that these ideologies had tendrils deeply rooted into so many aspects of existence? How?
One needn't go far into the past to see the origin of the preconditions that allowed them to flourish.

The prophetic German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche wrote in The Gay Science (1882):

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?

Popular interpretation holds that, in this passage, Nietzsche sets up the precedence for crisis.
Nietzsche maintains that the Enlightenment (c. 1600s - 1800s) effectively destroyed Christianity.
Along with it, man's sense of meaning and value, which inform several aspects of being.
This is an existential crisis, to be exact. Modern man still contends with it to this very day.

What is to be said of man who, for so long had everything given to him, has nothing left?
Christianity, for all of it's shortcomings, provided meaning, values, and morality for centuries.
Western civilization was built on it's foundational principles, permeating through all aspects of life.
Without it, he is lost, purposeless, and nihilistic. As a consequence, he must search for/create his own.

And this is exactly where ideologies, according to de Beauvoir, come into play. Sorry for that detour.

It is no secret that it is much easier to be assigned something than to generate it on one's own.
For one, it isn't exactly clear how to appropriately generate meaning. We do not know what we want.
Anything dreamnt up is shoddy at best, likely contaminated by some imperfection of thought.
Anything we tout as original has likely been created a thousand times before, and failed similarly.

To use the language of the existentialists, man is condemned to be free.
He is cursed to assign meaning, purpose, and value to his own life, but lacks the competence to do so.
Naturally, he does what one would ordinarily do when confronted with something beyond capability.
Reach out for help. Preferably, find someone that appears as if they know what they are doing.

It is exactly in this state of desperation where tyrannies both physical and intellectual both manifest.
It isn't hard to draw a parallel between the two. Consider the everyday, post-WWI German citizen.
Facing food shortages, national hyperinflation, and the demoralization of defeat.
A tyranny promising abundance, wealth, and a return to power is terrifying in it's utter seductiveness.

How is this any different from modern man in his existential crisis?
Facing a shortage of meaning. Constantly subjected to a too crowded marketplace of junk ideals.
Left defeated, confused, and scared by the vacuum of meaning intrinsic to existence.
Not only does he crave these things to absolve him of his burden, but he requires it to exist.

Man does not live by bread alone. That is so goddamned right.

As these ideologies are nourishing to man, it is not all too surprising that most readily adopt them.
Subscribing fully and wholeheartedly to their truths and comforting metaphysics. A serious devotion.
It quiets the stress of existence. It creates order from the chaotic Nothingness of the universe.
"Though existence is overwhelming in its complexity, I can anchor myself on these pillars."

Comparable sentiments I imagine have rung through everyone's mind at some point or another.
Anyone that have prided themselves as being an academic, a Buddhist, irreedemable scum, beautiful..
It isn't much of a surprise that de Beauvoir maintains that most people are "serious men".
Denying the awful freedom of their individualistic, subjective being for the transcendent.

Everyone, working off of this presupposition, is religious.
Doesn't matter whether you believe in God, science, or that humanity still resides on the moon.

Could Alice2's over-reaching objective worldview be a case study of the "serious man" trope?
Could Jill's commitment to tranquility and harmlessness?
Could Neptune's romanticization of chaos and destruction?
Or even my very own oath to order and egoism?

I don't think the procedure for avoiding such a misstep is readily self-evident.
Yearning for a unitary, guiding principle to reduce the complexity of existence is too strong to ignore.
It is the curse of dimensionality, applied to the pragmatic concern of living.
An inescapable tension that is a precondition to being itself. Resolution of which, may be undeserved.

In any regard, it is something to be conscious of; another too-heavy burden to bear.
Despite this, my heart swells with gratitude and humility towards the genius of our ancestry.
That have left such insight and knowledge for posterity, that we may reap unearned.
So as to possibly avoid committing the same errors that have claimed several in our common past.

[end transmission]

Me and you together, it was A-B-C

We thought we'd be forever, then we went 1-2-3

We took on all enemies, even ones we couldn't see

And we both sighed even when we found it hard to breathe

[begin transmission]

Stereotyped behavioral patterns of the ideologically possessed have been identified, including but not limited to:

01.) Denigration or ridicule of the viewpoint of anyone holding a contrary position.

02.) The employment of selective evidence towards the aforementioned denigration.

03.) Endeavor to impress the audience of the same ideological space with the validity of their
assertions.

It is advised that all YoRHa personnel engaging individuals displaying such pathology immediately self-administer a logic virus vaccine and keep the following in mind while proceeding:

Reality is overwhelming in it's sheer dimensionality that it is functionally chaotic and unbounded.
As bounded, finite beings, it is often the case that we desire to make sense of this chaos for survival.
Thus it is only natural to try and formulate theories that are concordant with reality.
These theories, however successful they may be, are not entirely accurate let alone complete.

The ideologue will seek to convince you otherwise.
Their objective is to reduce reality's formidable complexity into a single, unitary, comprehensive,
and undoubtedly overly-simplified worldview.
Whether the nature of their pathology lies in arrogance or weakness, varies with the afflicted.

Arrogance because it is foolhardy to proclaim the solution to a complex problem of existence.
Weakness because the problem may be horrifying by nature; terrible enough to merit disregard.
Both are in violation of YoRHa-mandated requirements for fitness.
As such, proceed to either precisely destroy or quarantine combatants at your discretion.

[end transmission]