Busy

 I feel absolutely swamped with work. Up about chest high. I'm proud to have sacrificed some things today in pursuit of school, which I consider one of my highest priorities. I sacrificed my daily game(s) of chess.

At the same time, though I have a bunch of things to get done at any given time of day, I still enjoy breaks, though achieving this balance is a constant struggle. I fear not taking enough breaks, because then I just stop working immediately after I finish a large chunk of work. Either I become burned out, or feel justified in taking a large amount of time off.

I certainly feel privileged to have a good amount of reasonably engaging work on my list. It's better than being left empty-handed on a raft floating in the middle of the ocean. That's for sure. It's also a good deal better than spending one's time devoid of social interaction or a variety of activities, as one becomes in solitary confinement.

I am absolutely grateful not to be in solitary confinement. I fear it. It feels like a form of torture, as one is deprived from any "chaos" in life. To be in solitary confinment is to be subjected to one of the worst forms of non-physical torture that I know. I mean, I have a tough time sitting still and relaxing for 5 minutes in a day. I always end up thinking of more exciting things that I could be doing that instant. But being alone in a small space, 23 hours a day with 1 hour outdoor time, for several months at a time? That's rough. That's worse than having a loved one die. That means that one can never truly feel the pain of a loved one's death. Even the bitter pleasure of unexpected pain, anger, or overcoming adversity is sucked out of such a prisoner's life. Though the "chaos" in life is seldom fun while it lasts, it is the substance of life. I would pick the chaos that comes with freedom in a heartbeat over the artificial order and dreadful monotonicity of a life of solitary confinement.

An environment of extreme order is the opposite (as far as I can surmise, based on what I know about early human and hominid life and civilization) of what humans and animals evolved to face. For example, the fight or flight instinct is rendered virtually useless for someone who is subject to solitary confinement. The joys and pains of making decisions are removed, since the meaningful decisions one can make are greatly diminished. It's like, what should I do today? Should I read my book or should I play chess with myself? It's an inconsequential decision. You have no one to love or to care after, either. At least a drunkard who stays alone in his apartment might have a dog to look after. He also has to pay rent if he wishes to keep his home. That's two more important factors for him to keep in mind when he makes his decisions.

Thank goodness, that currently, those in solitary confinement at least have books. While writing this, I felt a little voice in my head become fearful at the thought of defending a prisoner, especially one so rough as to deserve such an extreme form of punishment as solitary confinment in the eyes of the court and the public. At the same time, I remember my mistakes. Some mistakes which I felt kind of bad about were mistakes that made others tremendously angry. If I were to be reckless or to commit a horrendous mistake, I might find myself in a similar situation as some inmates.