Force is not enough. Since the dawn of time, organisms have struggled to find the most cost-effective pattern of organization that will guarantee their survival in the harsh conditions of that contextual reality. This process, while admirable, has often been one-sided in it's vision and perspective of the environment found ahead for the participant individual agent, be it due to limited material outreach or historically reaffirming individualizing behaviors. System theorists (as well as the respective synchronically existent and politically legitimizing leaches) have understood this interconnection for centuries, but our epistemological response has been to break this object apart, analyze it, and re-build atop "the only system that works".

The advent of mass information has created a multiplicity of interpretational cognitive processes, processes which before seemed far from the possible conscious decisions of individualized agents. Hierarchy, while hailed as a Western bastion of progress, has stagnated in the development of integrated moral and social networks that respond to self-actualizing individuals. Hierarchy is not exclusive to Western societies, and it is surely nothing new in the organizational and ideological stockpile of human society. More-so, our ontological ambition is not limited to the most "accepted" organizational system, but the one that responds best to our 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢-𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 desires, our wish to excel away from ourselves into something of a higher order.

Within the recognition of ourselves as boundless politically ontological entities we must remember our individuality as the autopoietic single celled organisms which continue to produce and regenerate in relation to our environment. In this same way, we now must also not forget how these historically contained micro-evolutions have permitted a reinterpretation of our relation to the structures that our other human agent counterparts have worked to establish for the perceived benefit of us all. Century and decades old structures that with the advent of time, of deeper conscious interpretation, have been bastardized by opportunist agents with an obsolete individualized perception of the interaction we all share with our reality.

This flesh and blood that make up our solidified mind is the structure shared by all existent organisms. The information self-contained within these are what permit agents to reaffirm their existence. Structures may have different levels that can reproduce further into space, but the space within these are populated by agents that allow it's proliferation. We must not allow our forceful integration into singleness, a singleness where we reproduce a blind struggle for perfect survival, but instead, a sentient agreement entered into by a myriad of beings for the mutual benefit of all.

I very well may have written Hello World hundreds of times over the course of my life at this point, which I'm sure is true of anybody who dedicates as many hours of their waking life to making computers do what you want them to.

There are few things as comforting as the certainty that you've been given permission to be wholly unoriginal when it comes to beginnings. Safe in the knowledge that there's no expectation your first steps be anything more than a simple acknowledgement of your having brought something to life. This is an idea that has ingrained itself so deeply in my trade that it has ascended to ritualistic status. I'm not being uncreative, see, I'm partaking in a ritual that has been around for at least 50 years.

I can't even find it in me to be glibly cynical about it, if I'm being honest. That sentiment is distasteful to me, partially because of the insincerity, but mostly because cynicism in itself is already a taxing enough enterprise, adding ironic mockery to it seems to me an unnecessarily precarious endeavor. You can be cute, or you can be understood, and I don't see myself as particularly aligned with the pursuit of admiration for my ability to not care.

It is a ritual. It is meaningful. I do feel good about participating in it. Why wouldn't I? Robbing myself of what little sense of community and belonging I can find amongst those that care about the things I do leaves nobody empty-handed but myself. I'm certain 8-year-old me would have agreed: Computers are exciting, magical things, and I'm lucky to get to work with them for a living. Every time you give life to something is a special moment that should be marked by a recognizable script. I can agree with that as much as I can agree with having cake on your birthday, at least.

Also, I don't owe any of you anything. There's a reason I went out of my way to set up shop here in the wilderness, as far away as I possibly could from the mainstream internet, making sure to build everything myself. I do not want to be beholden to anyone except my hosting provider. This is a feeling of freedom that has been thoroughly forgotten by the internet denizens of today, and I intend to relish in my ability to enjoy that freedom. It starts with something as simple as choosing to shed any mask of what I think is or is not meaningful, and ends with my name on a watchlist.

So, to tie up this latest Hello World of mine, if you come here expecting consistency, nuance, or informed takes, I'd suggest you either leave, or accept that allowing someone to be human is to allow them to write the way we speak when we are in good company: Passionately, imaginatively, ill-informed, and unbothered. Lord knows we could use more unmistakably human spaces these days.