A spectrum of utility, for the most part.
I ought not write whatever I want here. Already I’ve stopped myself from writing some things. I wouldn’t say I censor myself every day, but most days elements of my topic occur to me as potentially upsetting, usually to one specific person. Not always the same person, almost never the same person, but one member of my vanishingly small audience might not be charmed by whatever nonsense I have bouncing around my brain.
On one end there’s the inclination to Socrates it up and grumpily air all of my frustrations and critiques of the world as roughly as possible, slightly past that, I suppose, is the inclination to Diogenese it up and live in a barrel swearing at people and masturbating in public while doing much of the former.
On the other end of things, at least in terms of my inclinations, is to provide only kindness and inoffensive ruminations on things that don’t make people uncomfortable, but rather, hopeful.
I find it fascinating and troubling that my inclination is towards the attitude of those ancient greeks. Not particularly Christlike, that. It doesn’t trouble me that I have those thoughts, we all do and that’s a topic for another time, but it troubles me that my inclination is to share them. I desire to share them, sharing them seems like it would be freeing in some way, in many ways, potentially.