And I am not talking about owning a power plant.

As many of you know, I am a utilitarian. That means that to me, the moral thing to do is always the thing that will increase the common good the most, or at least minimize the public harm as much as possible.

And that’s not really open for debate. I consider utilitarianism’s logic to be unassailable. In order to argue against it, you have to argue that it is possible for the moral choice to be the one that decreases the public good or increases the public harm.

And, ya know, good luck with that.

But as I was making my supper, I was thinking about my own situation with freelance work and whether I should give it another shot, and the phrase ‘increasing my personal utility’ popped into my head, and I suddenly realized that I had never applied utilitarianism to my own life. Ever.

It’s not hard to see why. Utilitarianism thinking skews hard towards the transpersonal. and like all us INTJ types, I am far more comfortable talking about transpersonal ethics, which are abstract and easy for us to understand because it is detached, rather than personal ethics, which tend to involve relationships with complex dynamics that pack an awful lot of emotional power and that freaks us the fuck out.

What can I say? We’re a strange breed of egghead.

Utilitarianism, however, does not actually contain an exemption for personal concerns. It dictates that one must always maximize the good for everyone, including yourself.

That harsh and unforgiving logic that makes utilitarian unappealing to some does not allow for the personal comfort even of utilitarians themselves. The right thng to do with your own life is that which maximizes personal utility as it is represented as part of the commond, public good. ^[1]

It’s funny – though hardly inexplicable – that it took me this long to figure that out.

This throws open the rather excitingly broad question of how, exactly, I would go about maximizing my personal utility. ^[2]

It is an intricately tricky question because logically, my depression has to be taken into account. Andthat complicates matters enormously.

A lot of the more obvious ways of improving my happiness level, like getting more education or searching for work on Writer’s Work, are made far more difficult and thus have a much higher utilitarian cost than they do for healthier folk.

Likewise, a lot of other ones falter on the banks of my lack of funds. I can’t afford to go to the clubs to look for a man, or go to places I might find my kind of dude like swanky intellectual type events, or even just go to free events of that kind.

But that has way more to do with the emotional cost. Going by myself to an event full of strangers who will judge me by my appearance is an incredibly huge challenge for my social anxiety and I would have to feel way, way better for that to be in the cards.

I wish I wasn’t like that. I wish that I could simply will myself to do things and that alone would be sufficient motivation for me to do the things I know would be good for me.

But it just ain’t so, Joe. My reality is heavily limited by my mental illness and that’s a truth that my rugged intellectual ass has never been able to fully accept.

I guess the illusion that I could start my life any second now is worth more to me than protecting myself from the harsh self-judgments that result from it.

I might want to rethink that.

Because deep down, I don’t think of myself as a cripple. Or disabled. The terrifying regime of my self-loathing superego will not allow for it because it automaticly vetoes anything which would reduce my self-punishment in the slightest.

I mean, if I truly accepted that I am a disabled person with a serious illness, that might lead to some kind of self-forgiveness, and seeing as I know deep in my heart that I am worthless degenerate parasite who deserves nothing good ever, just infinite punishment, that can’t possibly be right.

I mean, forgive myself for being mentally ill just because it’s something I never wanted and played no part in happening and in no sense bear any moral culpability for but in fact deserve sympathy for?

Now you’re just talking crazy,

Back on track : maximizing personal utility is a very important concept for me to hold onto no matter how much the forces of evil in my head want me to shy away for it as too complicated and scary an equation to solve.

Life is, indeed, much simpler when you pretend you aren’t personally involved.

Not better. Just simpler. Easier. Less work.

And work is the worst thing ever, right?

It’s a necessary step in my personal development because, and this is rather sad, I can only care about myself if I put it in detached, aloof, Olympian terms.

If I don’t, then I just get caught in the feedback loop of the thing being contemplated (my own best interests) feeding directly back into the thing doing the contemplating (my mind) and that quickly building to a deafening volume in my head and destroying my ability to think about anything.

At that point, all I can do is exit the process and try to put my head back together.

Now one might ask, well why is it the inability to think is so intolerable to you?

Other people seem to get by in life with barely any thinking at all. ^[3] From observation, it is clear that my idea of rational thought is not necessary for most people in order for them to have happy, fulfilling lives.

But not me. I need clarity of thought or I feel like something terrible is going to happen to me because I can’t think well enough to anticipate it and outsmart it.

And that’s actually a pretty big handicap, when you think about it. Life does not guarantee anyone the time or the space to think properly.

One might even think of that need as a disability.

But we all know those don’t apply to me, right?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.