Connect the dots. Two pieces.
"I think, therefore I am", it's a Catch-22, a self-referencial philosophy, a lie. It ties together all the thoughts that I've expressed in this blog to date. This isn't intentional by any means, but I might as well address it.
In order to think, one must be real. In order to be real, one must think he is real. In order to think that one is real, the individual must be capable of thought.
Right?
Where is the line drawn? The line between reality and whatever lies beyond it; the same line that limits our capabilities and enforces the laws of physics and time. Psychosomatic care and things of the like exist, and confidence is a one-way ticket in the general direction of victory. That being said, it's clear that the mind is present in all that we do. Thus, those of a stronger mind should be more physically apt and those of weaker minds should be powerless. But there's a balancer, or a series of balancers, that are present. This is reality, not what is tangible, or what we percieve as real, but the balancers that accompany each decision. But the truth of the matter is that reality is unfair and doesn't give itself up to such manipulation. A paradox.
So: I write, therefore I am. Wrong.
Call me an elitist ***hole, but standards need to be put in place. I doodled on a napkin today, does that make me an artist? So... what qualifies existing? You can't exist or be called a thinker just because you think. Where's the substance?
---
You know me already. I shouldn't say that, let me rephrase that. If you're reading this and you're in my Creative Writing class, then you know me already. It doesn't matter if we've ever talked, if we talk every night, what subject matter we discuss or how long we've known each other's names; you know me.
That's the biggest flaw that I see in Prout. It's not the uniforms, it's not the mandatory religion courses, it's not the disciplinary procedures or administration: it's us.
There can be no small talk at Prout, ever. Why? Because you don't need to ask who I hang around with or what kind of stuff interests me, because it's already there. Whether you found my myspace and gave it a quick look or you saw me talking with someone in the hallways, you know me. You only get one first impression, they say. The only problem is that Prout seems to deny you that. You don't get a first impression, you get an instant on-sight evaluation.
So you know me. Or you "know me". Or you fully and legitimately know me, it doesn't matter. Most of us are adults or close enough to them, so why not start to act our age. There's more to us all than meets the eye, and I'd like to see it. You're free to know me as well, if you so choose; the point is that as adults, total strangers can meet and treat each other with respect and maybe even have an intelligent conversation. We all have unique and valuable experiences that we can all benefit from, so why not be symbiotic?
Peace.
In order to think, one must be real. In order to be real, one must think he is real. In order to think that one is real, the individual must be capable of thought.
Right?
Where is the line drawn? The line between reality and whatever lies beyond it; the same line that limits our capabilities and enforces the laws of physics and time. Psychosomatic care and things of the like exist, and confidence is a one-way ticket in the general direction of victory. That being said, it's clear that the mind is present in all that we do. Thus, those of a stronger mind should be more physically apt and those of weaker minds should be powerless. But there's a balancer, or a series of balancers, that are present. This is reality, not what is tangible, or what we percieve as real, but the balancers that accompany each decision. But the truth of the matter is that reality is unfair and doesn't give itself up to such manipulation. A paradox.
So: I write, therefore I am. Wrong.
Call me an elitist ***hole, but standards need to be put in place. I doodled on a napkin today, does that make me an artist? So... what qualifies existing? You can't exist or be called a thinker just because you think. Where's the substance?
---
You know me already. I shouldn't say that, let me rephrase that. If you're reading this and you're in my Creative Writing class, then you know me already. It doesn't matter if we've ever talked, if we talk every night, what subject matter we discuss or how long we've known each other's names; you know me.
That's the biggest flaw that I see in Prout. It's not the uniforms, it's not the mandatory religion courses, it's not the disciplinary procedures or administration: it's us.
There can be no small talk at Prout, ever. Why? Because you don't need to ask who I hang around with or what kind of stuff interests me, because it's already there. Whether you found my myspace and gave it a quick look or you saw me talking with someone in the hallways, you know me. You only get one first impression, they say. The only problem is that Prout seems to deny you that. You don't get a first impression, you get an instant on-sight evaluation.
So you know me. Or you "know me". Or you fully and legitimately know me, it doesn't matter. Most of us are adults or close enough to them, so why not start to act our age. There's more to us all than meets the eye, and I'd like to see it. You're free to know me as well, if you so choose; the point is that as adults, total strangers can meet and treat each other with respect and maybe even have an intelligent conversation. We all have unique and valuable experiences that we can all benefit from, so why not be symbiotic?
Peace.
posted by Dylan at 10:10 PM
1 Comments:
Well, I am one to be classified as a I KNOW YOU -> Dylan. I think that we are all living a life that is our own. By that I mean we can either enjoy what comes to us or end our universe. Ending the universe ends your existance on earth.
That is why everyone tries so hard to get into the history books. Even if they are but a name written in size 5 font they are still existing. They see the name, they remember the name, you continue existing.
So how many people truely disappear? <(-.-)> writers are immortal... damn...
Post a Comment
<< Home