It becomes difficult to justify writing and so forth if one wishes to morally justify it. A thing should have value in the moral sense, of aligning with some higher law or function (or, superimposing the object beyond its self onto and above itself, qua Nietzsche) as it then can be attributed purpose and meaning. Not some materialistic utilitarianism, but realisation within hierarchy which gives purpose itself, not purpose insomuch as function.
In an impromptu monologue I recorded for my YouTube channel I explicated that — in a typically crash-course way, stumbling through my inner machinations step-by-step — my outwards expressiveness, my “outward motion” in such a sense, is justified by my very being what I am, meaning young, masculine and in the process of learning; that as a living creature more generally, I make externalisations in any form simply by existing — in breath, movement, et cetera — thus these specific movements (writing, podcasting and so on) are a given, are default.
This is the “fuel.” Man is, energy is, the potential for movement is. What I am doing is giving context for this potential, and healthy context at that. Curiosity; knowledge-seeking, truth-finding, learning; all relatively free from vanity, the presence of ego, and so forth. This is active, conscious; I make a self-aware effort to remain personally grounded and level-headed. It is a habit which has come naturally to me; it is simply my nature, it seems; something rather counter to what our age heralds as typically accepted conduct socially-speaking, obviously.
Very occasionally I get accused (as I did last night in the comments section of the aforementioned monologue) of “falseness” — to quote the person last night, “false humility and pseudo-intellectualism.” I have made clear elsewhere (specifically at the end of my written response to livestreaming with Sargon of Akkad) that I pride myself on my honesty, hence my confusion when faced with such accusations. Granted, my writing style might be somewhat obtuse in places; the subjects I like to study and explore are esoteric; and the language I use in my approach to matters is often fairly vague, abstract and intuitive — emotional — but to be accused of outright lying, outright falseness, just bewilders me. I would be fascinated to know what I would sound like if I was — to frame things from the perspective of the accuser — firstly, actually honest and secondly, a “true” intellectual. To my knowledge and intent I am very honest; I do not paint myself to be someone or something I am not, and I have never made false claims or boasts about myself in a serious manner; and I have never claimed to be an intellectual — in fact I have freely and repeatedly explained exactly how I am not an intellectual. I am giving this accusation this level of attention because I am genuinely curious of how one could arrive at such a thing.
It was probably just some troll-comment, but nevertheless it piqued my interest as I am not used to hearing or reading such things (which is a good sign). One starts to take notice of these things, even if it is perhaps foolish. My encounter with Sargon lingered in my mind for four days after it first happened. What can I say? I am a sensitive sort of person; I take things personally even when I obviously should not. Overanalysis, overthinking, is embedded in my character and has been since a very young age — and is likely a part of the reason I am currently doing what I am. I suppose every strength is also a vulnerability, to some degree.
Most of my writing interconnects; pieces I wrote months ago might contain a sentence, or something implied, which relates to things I wrote days ago. It is significant, I think, that this is the case. It means that from an early point I have been aimed in the right direction, that my basics were solid, my emotional foundation which predisposes me to certain lines of thinking was or is of a high quality. The question then is how to maintain such a thing? And when I consider that this was and is likely my honesty, my openness, my ability to self-criticise and so forth, it becomes unsurprising that I recover this area again and again in my mind; that I am always self-aware of my self-awareness.