Disagree, one heroic death won't undo any shit they did during life
Some people aren't born to be blessed with tragedy in their blood.
Unless it's over the wrong thing or it goes a little too far.
Purpose is subjective, as is general truth in life. Those people would die thinking they were right, which is ultimately all that matters to them.
Kestrel is basically lauding blissful ignorance.
you get it
I am with you, even unto the end of the age
Disagree, one heroic death won't undo any shit they did during life
I agree but im surprised you added the redemption bit in there.
I was missing how motivated I used to be, hadn't even considered any form of atonement
I am with you, even unto the end of the age
Unless it's over the wrong thing or it goes a little too far.
Purpose is subjective, as is general truth in life. Those people would die thinking they were right, which is ultimately all that matters to them.
Kestrel is basically lauding blissful ignorance.
What about when the thing they want to die for is suicide, if they want to die so "the pain can stop"? It's still a form of idealism, a sense of direction, and "dying for something".
If "doing it towards yourself" doesn't count, what if they want to commit suicide as a result of having committed relationship first, or committed job?
He'd laud blissful ignorance, I'll laud my degree. It still demonstrates a desire to "harm yourself or others".
The thread title is a little melodramatic but this isn't suicide ideation.
"The people who could die for something are lucky"
Not the people who did, or who want to. It's the people who have so much passion and commitment to something that if needed to they could die for it. It's a nod to my "glory days" and being nostalgic of a very driven time in my life.
I am with you, even unto the end of the age
Unless it's over the wrong thing or it goes a little too far.
Purpose is subjective, as is general truth in life. Those people would die thinking they were right, which is ultimately all that matters to them.
Kestrel is basically lauding blissful ignorance.
What about when the thing they want to die for is suicide, if they want to die so "the pain can stop"? It's still a form of idealism, a sense of direction, and "dying for something".
If "doing it towards yourself" doesn't count, what if they want to commit suicide as a result of having committed relationship first, or committed job?
He'd laud blissful ignorance, I'll laud my degree. It still demonstrates a desire to "harm yourself or others".The thread title is a little melodramatic but this isn't suicide ideation.
"The people who could die for something are lucky"
Not the people who did, or who want to. It's the people who have so much passion and commitment to something that if needed to they could die for it. It's a nod to my "glory days" and being nostalgic of a very driven time in my life.
That can still fall into suicidal ideation with ease, whether by proxy or self-directed.
Just because they are still alive doesn't mean they don't live for the day they'll die. Fight Club can't shut up about it: 
That's supposed to be the GOOD conscience. The other, Tyler, meanwhile is so obsessed with "The Moment" that he'd die for it, and the way he's written in the book is even more of a fanatic than the movie.
The book is flooded with suicidal ideations that people live for, but they still recognize the goal in itself is the peace of death instead of in spite of it. The book in spite of pushing this sort of message, when looked at with more depth, is actually a critique against itself (and Buddhism, strangely).
Ę̵̚x̸͎̾i̴͚̽s̵̻͐t̷͐ͅe̷̯͠n̴̤̚t̵̻̅i̵͉̿a̴̮͊l̵͍̂ ̴̹̕D̵̤̀e̸͓͂t̵̢͂e̴͕̓c̸̗̄t̴̗̿ï̶̪v̷̲̍é̵͔
Third time quoting this but it gets to the heart of Tyler's fanaticism, a theme followed across the novel and movie consistently:
How I met Tyler was I went to a nude beach. This was the very end of summer, and I was asleep. Tyler was naked and sweating, gritty with sand, his hair wet and stringy, hanging in his face.
Tyler had been around a long time before we met.
Tyler was pulling driftwood logs out of the surf and dragging them up the beach. In the wet sand, he'd already planted a half circle of logs so they stood a few inches apart and as tall as his eyes. There were four logs, and when I woke up, I watched Tyler pull a fifth log up the beach. Tyler dug a hole under one end of the log, then lifted the other end until the log slid into the hole and stood there at a slight angle.
You wake up at the beach.
We were the only people on the beach.
With a stick, Tyler drew a straight line in the sand several feet away. Tyler went back to straighten the log by stamping sand around its base.
I was the only person watching this.
Tyler called over, "Do you know what time it is?"
I always wear a watch.
"Do you know what time it is?"
I asked, where?
"Right here,"Tyler said. "Right now."
It was 5:06 P.m.
After a while, Tyler sat cross-legged in the shadow of the standing logs. Tyler sat for a few minutes, got up and took a swim, pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and started to leave. I had to ask.
I had to know what Tyler was doing while I was asleep.
I asked if Tyler was an artist.
Tyler shrugged and showed me how the five standing logs were wider at the base. Tyler showed me the line he'd drawn in the sand, and how he'd use the line to gauge the shadow cast by each log.
What Tyler had created was the shadow of a giant hand. Only now the fingers were Nosferatu-long and the thumb was too short, but he said how at exactly four-thirty the hand was perfect.
The giant shadow hand was perfect for one minute, and for one perfect minute Tyler had sat in the palm of a perfection he'd created himself.
One minute was enough, Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
This sounds pretty, and I can model off of the beauty of it in lesser ways, but it at it's core is the doorway towards fanatacism.
Ę̵̚x̸͎̾i̴͚̽s̵̻͐t̷͐ͅe̷̯͠n̴̤̚t̵̻̅i̵͉̿a̴̮͊l̵͍̂ ̴̹̕D̵̤̀e̸͓͂t̵̢͂e̴͕̓c̸̗̄t̴̗̿ï̶̪v̷̲̍é̵͔