The Cognition Manifesto.

I stated in the Health Manifesto how I don’t want to die the way my grandpas did. Weak and feeble, their health declined, succumbing to their own ignorance. There’s more to this.

My greatest fear is dying alone. Since my teens, I’ve been afraid that I’ll die alone and incoherent. I’ve known that I need to find a female that both has the memory to make up for my own, and is trustworthy. Because if you can’t trust the person telling you where your pants are, who can you trust?

In searching for why I have a general low opinion and distrust of the male opinion, I recall remembering how I’d be told to disregard my grandfathers, and my father. “Don’t listen to your grandfather, he doesn’t understand what he’s saying”, I’d be told. My dad’s dad was never someone I could ever understand or relate to. He grew up on the other side of the world. He had the first of his heart attacks back in `89, so all I ever knew of him was a slowed-down version.

My mom’s dad, on the other hand… I remember being around him when I was little. ‘Big cuddly Grandpa’, is that how I phrased it? He certainly was never running around fast, but he was out and about. Mentally, he was always a little odd, if not intimidating when I was little. (I was a very timid child, you have to remember.) I remember a moment late in his life. He was saying something to my grandma, and she was completely tuning him out. I’d seen this a lot growing up. It was how she tolerated him. His tone was off, his words were off, but I could see past it. He was trying to say something. And nobody was paying attention.

Dying alone isn’t the absence of social contact.

Is it normal for children to fear for their mental coherency? That’s part of the reason why I’ve fought so hard for self-awareness. The world is fresh and brand new to children. Everything is stimulation. Yet as we grow older, we become desensitized. We notice things less and less. People just go through their lives as a routine to be done over and over again without much thought. If your mind shuts down but you keep living, you’ve already died young.

I try to make a habit to shift myself out of habits. There’s a lot of places I walk to and fro on a regular basis, I try to stop walking now and then and just look around. Where are the trash cans? Where are the trees? Is it cloudy? How many people are around? I like looking at the architecture of buildings, wondering how they’re put together. I bet there are plenty of people who go through the same buildings without ever looking at the ceiling. There’s more to self-awareness, but it makes me feel better to know I can still shift my mental state.

I recall last week when my dad and I were going grocery shopping. We pass by this one light where a jughandle has to cross traffic to make their left turn. Car in front of us yields to let someone merge. Next car is looking to see if she can merge. My dad promptly accelerates to the car in front of him, removing any chance of the car merging. I asked him why he didn’t let her merge. He said,

“Oh, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Okay, I get this a lot from him. I try to let it go. We’ll be doing something, I’ll be talking to him, then I’ll realize he’s not paying attention at all. Okay, fine, no big deal. But when you’re operating a motor vehicle, shouldn’t you have an awareness of the cars around you? You mean to tell me you’re NOT PAYING ATTENTION WHILE DRIVING? My dad is that asshole who doesn’t let me merge. Hey, don’t blame him, he WASN’T PAYING ATTENTION!

For me, cognitive awareness is paramount. As I’ve written in my other manifestos, it all comes down to emotional acceptance. If you can’t listen to your emotions, you just shut down. It’s okay to have moments of frustration or denial, but ultimately I want to face everything that bothers me. I’m a regretful beast enough as it is, I’d prefer not to end up like my dad.

So you see, this is why I need a girl with a good memory. I can fight it as much as I can, but if my mind goes, I need a girl I can trust. Both my grandmas ended up resenting their husbands after their death. What kind of way to be remembered is that? I want a little more dignity. Where’s the love? Hopefully I can find a chick someday who I can trust to remember where my pants are.

Because without pants, I’ll be a ranting old man running around in his boyundies manundies.