Dictated but not read.

So I do believe I've spent a good two years of life looking at the free will problem. Now in drunken state I'd like to share some insights.

1. We cannot be self made selves. I love existentialists hell they provide the best fatalistic antagonists a man could ask for. But, they forget our biological make-up precludes a self-made self (sorry Nietzsche)

2. We are biologically predispositioned to certain things. I like a self made man and all but being a man makes certain things happen.

3. Our character rules who we are.

   So here are three important thoughts. Why are they important?

Well understanding #2 precludes #1 which lets us know we are at least in the tad bit determined.

Thinking our character plays a role leads us to a bit of fatalism (as in being fated). If we know who we are (I.e. Character) then we know our decisions. This is where fate happens. A great Moby Dick quote here:

• "Come, Ahab’s compliments to ye; come and see if ye can swerve me. Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents’ beds, unerringly I rush! Naught’s an obstacle, naught’s an angle to the iron way!"
  - Moby Dick, Herman Melville
  
  
  

  So I haven't really said anything have I? Well I guess this is where the whiskey sets in. So I've spent a whole lot of my life looking for freedom or fate. Well my little insight but let no one know it was mine. They are all they same. Our tiny habits are fated or determined whatever you would like there. Who we are we build out of semi-determined consequences. And what happens after these periods of fluctuations is purely the fated character we produce.

  I guess what I really want to say is we are born we have some ideas of things we want, we are socialized we have a better idea of what we want and pursue it more, finally the person we built out of wits, raising, and whatever the fuck else becomes our fated tragic hero. Because we truly can never obtain enough. Just ask a Rothschild.