acyclic

After finally getting a good night’s sleep the other night, I’ve fallen into a strange and unpredictable pattern of sleep and wake. I was up all last night and went to sleep yesterday afternoon around 3pm. I woke at 7pm and have been up ever since.

This unpredictability seems to be central to life. It’s the same thing as randomness. I’ve always wondered if there’s really such a thing as randomness, or if unpredictability is just a consequence of a nonrandom process that no one can know. I’ve also realized that without the passage of time, randomness and probability are meaningless. Intelligence becomes unnecessary. Life becomes impossible. Time is the great mystery. We take it for granted because it is so central to our existence. We seem ill equipped to even imagine its lack. And yet I sit, awake, trying to think unthinkable thoughts.

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