I haven’t been much in the mood for writing. I have written a few posts, but none which I felt like publishing. In the spirit of writing I’ve decided to talk about the self.
A month ago I started reading Stanley Park by Timothy Parker. I haven’t gotten much into it; I can’t pick up a book without falling asleep after reading 10 pages. I’m not sure what the remedy is, but currently I cannot do a normal reading session. Mr. Parker had to make the antagonist’s name Dante, and have Dante’s chain called Inferno something Coffee… This is clearly a reference to Dante’s Inferno. Now I’ve never personally read Dante’s Inferno or any part of Dante’s Divine Comedy, other than snippets here and there in more philosophical references than English ones. Lazy as I am, I don’t have time to read Inferno to understand the reference in the book, so I looked it up on Wikipedia. I know that’s not something I should be doing, but the article itself was well written and concise and I got the gist of it. I feel I need to read this classic epic poem (Yes D I said epic and I used it correctly) since it is so interesting and entertaing. If I were going to hell I would be in the first level of hell and I would be chilling with all the greats I knew would be hanging out in hell. I’m cool with that decision, no need to baptize me or convert to any type of Christianity. I am fine with where in hell I’ll be going.
I watched Ides of March a couple of Saturdays ago; yes this is going somewhere and it is related; which was great and I mean great. It was great because the acting was good and the story was well written and well told and I realized that I really need to start writing again and something significant. On Saturday I also decided that I need to read and write more philosophy. I don’t need to be a university student or work within those realms to study it, so I picked up some philosophers I haven’t read and in an area I’m interested in writing something in. You need to read a lot in order to develop a well balanced perception of things and in a specific area, whether you agree with it or not. At the book store I grabbed Kafta and Arthur Schopenhauer and because I like to mix Western thinking with Eastern thinking, I grabbed Rebel Buddha by Dzogchen Ponlop. I always want to connect Eastern and Western philosophy into something coherent and logical. I’m not sure they can really be combined without it being more one thing than another.
One of the problems I grasp with Buddhism/Hinduism/Jainism (they have the same goal) is that our reality is false. Everything we see isn’t true. As a Westerner, I have a strong belief in science. I also believe that we truly are organic beings, and have a very determined sense of self. In Buddhism, I can’t accept that everything I see to be false. I just cannot embrace that mentality. My strong belief in this reality being real is why the illusion is so good, why everyone is participating, and why everyone continues to suffer and go through the cycle of rebirth all the time. We continue our existence in this state until we see the ultimate reality and the illusion of this world. It’s hard to believe that this beautiful organic planet isn’t real, that it doesn’t really exist. Majority of people experience the same subjective experiences. Descartes went through this, epistemology goes through this, as well as the whole Matrix metaphor. That there is a true reality; it just may not be this one, or that if we have complete faith in the Lord, what we see is to be taken as truth and not a falsity. The sense of self is the most puzzling of all things in the human universe, other than the purpose/meaning of life.
Somewhere in between I want to accept that what Buddha says as truth, but I also want to believe in science and its truth, plus the rational mind… provided that it’s actually rational. But can you accept Buddha’s teachings and still believe in this reality as truth? What I’m studying and interested in writing isn’t about merging the two ideas into one coherent one. I think Buddhism would lose its meaning if it were to be westernized – think yoga branding. I’m under the impression that people who have a yogic philosophy don’t really practice the real philosophy. All I can think of are those vegetarian hippie’s who’ve incorporated yoga to everything else they were doing. It’s too bad that yoga has been so westernized. If you research the history of yoga, yoga meditations weren’t to relax and get your body in shape, but as a ritual in order to achieve moksha/mukti/nirvana/siddha. I don’t know anyone who does yoga for these reasons.
I was going somewhere with Dante, but the idea escaped me. I think it had something to do with the Christian reality that this is real, that there is an afterlife and that afterlife is real, and that there is only one life and not a continual rebirth. There’s a perception that this reality carries over into a new reality that looks rather similar to this one. In hell people are punished, believing that our senses are the same immaterially as they are when we’re material. It didn’t occur to me that this is a contradiction until now as I wrote it. Maybe it’s more that images are being impressed into the “soul” and based on memory, they really think they’re being tortured. Now I’ve managed to find something else that makes Christianity irrational.
I was also going to go somewhere with how Plato discusses there being two realities. Plato loved being in the philosophical mind, but the organic body which houses the soul had organic appetites that had nothing to do with rationality. Plato is a Western thinker. I wonder how much influence Eastern thought had on the Greeks, since they were so close to Asia. In Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, what we see of truth are impressions of things. Which ties nicely that this world is an illusion. Plato’s thought on how to solve the problem is to make sure it is the philosopher kings who show the impressions and not those who want to manipulate people to feed their appetites with whatever it is they want people to believe so that they can get away with it. Currently in the news there is “Occupy Wall Street” which a ‘peaceful’ protest against the 1% of the population that is wealthy and the 99% of the human population that are the puppets in this world of greed. If I were taking a class, I would use this in an essay, because getting good marks in philosophy in exams is to tie in what you’ve learned and apply it to the real world. It’s food for thought. Always trust the ancient Greek philosophers. They are the forefathers of science and biology, amongst other things besides philosophizing.
I think that philosophy should be learned amongst peers and in a group setting. My only other option is to start taking some classes at the university. The problem is all the good classes are on during the week and not as a night class. The only problem with learning outside of a classroom is the loss of discussion, peer support and feedback and dialogue with the professor. You completely lose the feeling of community when you read on your own. Maybe something has been misinterpreted, or something confusing can be answered in a class. Or someone else’s opinions inspire ideas and thought. I learn through visuals. I have to visualize something to learn it. Like I did for too many exams, I wrote acronyms on my left hand. I could remember it, if I remembered what the order and the letter stood for. This never occurred to me until last week when someone asked me for a phone number and I had to dial the number in the air to remember it. They said to me “I didn’t think you were such a visual person” and laughed, like it was charming. I think my mom is like this. It would explain why I talk to myself like she does, but there could be a biological reason for that. Such as when you read something you process it in one part of your brain and when you hear something it gets processed in another part of your brain. It’s possible that in order to process a complete thought, it needs to go through two different places to be coherent.
Cheers to Thursday and probably the last day...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Priorities Are A Funny Thing
It's only going to be the second week of August, but I already know what I need to do and I am more than ready to get back into everything. Summer is so lazy and free spirited and all about relaxing and having fun. When you don't have anything planned for fall or planned near future goals, you only wish summer would last longer than it does. Avoidance is not a wonderful thing. It's very damaging. It puts you so behind that you don't know where to begin again. Like all things, you have to figure it out on your own. If someone thinks they're steering you clear of you imminent life disaster, they're not helping you at all. In fact, they're making it worse. I know some people who need some steering, they're heading for mistakes they could avoid, but it's their life and they need to make them.
Comparing last fall to this one, I'm happy to say that for once since I was a university student, I know what I'm doing and it's a wonderful thing. Maybe it's not where I wanted to be two years ago, in fact it's definitely not where I wanted to be, but I've accepted it. They don't necessarily need to be lost forever, but they will have to stay where they've been put and that's that.
Have a wonderful weekend. I think the weather is going to be great. I would like to spend my evening sitting on some patio drinking sangria by the pitcher. I'm not sure if that's a possibility, but I'm hoping it could be.
Cheers!
Comparing last fall to this one, I'm happy to say that for once since I was a university student, I know what I'm doing and it's a wonderful thing. Maybe it's not where I wanted to be two years ago, in fact it's definitely not where I wanted to be, but I've accepted it. They don't necessarily need to be lost forever, but they will have to stay where they've been put and that's that.
Have a wonderful weekend. I think the weather is going to be great. I would like to spend my evening sitting on some patio drinking sangria by the pitcher. I'm not sure if that's a possibility, but I'm hoping it could be.
Cheers!
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Marc Maron
Other than Woody Allen, I've just found someone else who's even more neurotic than me... Marc Maron.
I was just watching last night's episode of Conan, since the only other new episode on my PVR was Primetime Nightline: Beyond "Battle With the Devil". Now I started watching Nightline, but the images of real 'exorcisms' were freaking me out on top of my anxiety attack. I was trying to calm down and I knew this would give me anxiety and nightmares. I decided to switch to Conan. I made the right decision. Don't get me wrong I love Conan any day, but my other recordings tend to beat his episodes. Seth Green was funny, but Marc Maron retelling his hypochondria of mouth cancer killed me and made me feel completely normal. I had a similar hypochondriac moment when I was 16 when my lymphnodes in my armpits were crazy swollen I obsessed about having cancer. I later found out that outdoor cats carry bacteria on their paws and nails that when you get scratched it can cause symptoms like swollen lymphnodes under your arms. I got scratched by an outdoor cat. I felt more embarrassed than "a survivor of cancer."
I think my anxiety attack this evening came about by me cleaning the only clutter in my apartment, my unused kitchen countertop. I like to rationalize everything. It gives chaos control. Putting order to the chaos of the counter had the opposite effect on me. I have no idea why.
I ran out of thoughts. If you have the time, see if you can find the Marc Maron interview from last night's episode of Conan. I couldn't bare to delete the episode. They made a joke about fanatical HP fans committing suicide, and then an HP fan threatened to jump from the rafters until Andy Richter came to save the day wearing a Batman mask and cape like the live action TV show from whatever decade. I <3 you Andy, but holy shit, you in that Batman mask took my breath away. Conan's reaction only added to how I also felt about it. You should look that up too if you can find that too.
God bless Conan and Andy Richter and America.
I was just watching last night's episode of Conan, since the only other new episode on my PVR was Primetime Nightline: Beyond "Battle With the Devil". Now I started watching Nightline, but the images of real 'exorcisms' were freaking me out on top of my anxiety attack. I was trying to calm down and I knew this would give me anxiety and nightmares. I decided to switch to Conan. I made the right decision. Don't get me wrong I love Conan any day, but my other recordings tend to beat his episodes. Seth Green was funny, but Marc Maron retelling his hypochondria of mouth cancer killed me and made me feel completely normal. I had a similar hypochondriac moment when I was 16 when my lymphnodes in my armpits were crazy swollen I obsessed about having cancer. I later found out that outdoor cats carry bacteria on their paws and nails that when you get scratched it can cause symptoms like swollen lymphnodes under your arms. I got scratched by an outdoor cat. I felt more embarrassed than "a survivor of cancer."
I think my anxiety attack this evening came about by me cleaning the only clutter in my apartment, my unused kitchen countertop. I like to rationalize everything. It gives chaos control. Putting order to the chaos of the counter had the opposite effect on me. I have no idea why.
I ran out of thoughts. If you have the time, see if you can find the Marc Maron interview from last night's episode of Conan. I couldn't bare to delete the episode. They made a joke about fanatical HP fans committing suicide, and then an HP fan threatened to jump from the rafters until Andy Richter came to save the day wearing a Batman mask and cape like the live action TV show from whatever decade. I <3 you Andy, but holy shit, you in that Batman mask took my breath away. Conan's reaction only added to how I also felt about it. You should look that up too if you can find that too.
God bless Conan and Andy Richter and America.
Monday, July 4, 2011
The GQ Man
Today I happened to read my GQ I bought because Alex Skarsgard was on the cover. Of all the magazines I've bought or read, this is the first time I've read the majority of the articles. This is a feat in itself. How is it that a men's magazine is more entertaining to me than a woman's magazine? Maybe it's the wit, the lack of articles on spas and hot vacation spots I can't afford and may never be able to. Or the humanitarian piece about women in poor countries and so on. The stuff that makes me flip pages. Or better yet is the pages long on a perfume or some new beauty treatment. Put me to sleep already.
The article titled "'The Taste That Dare Not Speak Its Name" by Devin Friedman captivated me, in that it never occured to me until now about distinctions that exist that I never put in this light (like going to Mexico or Australia.) It's about the middlebrow. It entranced me. Here's the letter commentary I would send to GQ about this article:
I think the middlebrow is a phenomena that only exists between men when it comes to culture. If it applies to women, it must be a small population. I would think this population would be socially elite women, extremely intellectual women and weird hippie artists that somehow make their non-sense sound poetical and intelligent that you can't tell whether they are genuine or real nut jobs. I don't care to find out either. I'd say the majority of the women in North America are "middlebrow". That we all tend to like similar things, yet can be so completely different from each other. Like some middle ground woman culture. This language we all relate to.
If a woman calls herself highbrow whom is intelligent and dresses extremely well, chances are her face isn't attractive. If the same woman is beautiful and dresses just as well, she's probably faking her intelligence or is too arrogant or dumb to realize she isn't. If a woman is lowbrow and unintelligent, she's probably some kind of social trash. I'll exclude the names we all know. If she doesn't think she's lowbrow, she's probably, excuse my language, a dumb slut. Even she can't appeal to the middlebrow of woman culture since she probably thinks she's better than every other woman. This doesn't matter if she's smoking hot or "woman, I don't care how comfortable you are with your body, your confidence is mesmerizing, but please dear Jesus, put on some clothes, I don't need to see that."
And then there are those mouthy sluts who don't take shit from no one, that you can't help but admire, even if they aren't the smartest. It is its own breed of feminism. Not an admirable one, but one you can respect.
I do believe that there are probably a good amount of men who are secretly middlebrow men and always will be. Don't get me wrong, there are tons of douche bags out there. They appear highbrow and then you realize that they think they are, but really they're not. I won't classify those ones, but they may be overly preppy, obsessed with UFC or want to look like a UFC fighter or they pose as intellectuals who aren't all that intellectual and immediately despise you if you're an intelligent woman and show just how dumb they are.
In regards to Feist. I'm not against any man who likes/loves Feist, but if you're a single guy, wearing tight fitting pants and layering a cardigan over a button-up shirt, I'm inclined to think you don't like women, if you know what I'm saying. It's one of those things where you lie and say you're girlfriend made you go with her to a Feist concert, and it was an "okay" time, but really you fan girl screamed inside and tried not to sing the lyrics you totally love. It's okay. It's even more okay if you're married. I think men secretly need a woman so that they can enjoy these things and it being okay. And if a man never enjoys middlebrow things and only the lowbrow, then there's something wrong with him. I can't remember the name of the author who wrote a book on the things white people love, but Wes Anderson and Coen Brother movies are great. And there's nothing wrong with liking them. A middlebrow man is a modern man and is a more real man than any Neanderthal who only loves the lowbrow.
And that's as far as my thoughts went. It needs some serious polishing, but this was the jist of the ideas I had circling my brain this morning. I'll have to give it a go and then submit it. If anything, I could use the writing practice.
Anyways...
Who and where are these GQ men? They can't live in Saskatoon. I have yet to meet a well dressed, intellectual man who isn't a gentleman with his friends, but is gentlemanly enough to not share details and even though women know men are disgusting, they keep it to a minimum like a real man should. I've yet to meet one in Saskatoon. I'd be surprised if there were any in this province or even in the prairies. I thought I met one once. He was close, but no amount of womanly polishing could take the disgusting 13 year old boy out of him. It's not charming. If you're a woman who finds this charming, then you have poor taste in men. That's okay. Everyone deserves love even if they aren't a GQ man, and he wouldn't be every woman's type or taste either. That's okay. The less I have to compete with, the better.
And then there are those almost GQ men. Manly, gentlemanly, not afraid of the middlebrow, but don't openly admit it, that need a wardrobe polish, but they're just not into reading and have no intention of changing it, even though there is nothing wrong with reading books or engaging intellectually with the world. If I had to choose, it would be this one over the dirty adolescent boy who talks about masturbating, farting, talking about woman derogatorily in a negative way (since admiring a good looking person and their "assets" is totally normal.) and whom are entirely selfish and unwilling to change. I would always pick the stubborn gentleman who's an idiot over the man boy idiot, who will never grow up and be a man.
Thinking about it, Mr. Darcy and none other than Colin Firth, I think he is the perfect image of a GQ man. Both as the character and himself. Wanting a GQ man isn't being overly picky, but a matter of preference and taste. This isn't being narrow minded, only living somewhere where there isn't many around makes me look pickier than I really am. I think it's a prairie thing. I'm not asking for much. Taste, intelligence, a little sensitivity and that true understated manliness that you so commonly find in a cowboy. Like an urban cowboy who went to university, but didn't only take commerce classes, but also didn't graduate with something that doesn't pay the bills and doesn't sleep with every woman that throws themselves at him... Enough about that! He won't be found here. I'd be surprised if I found him.
The article titled "'The Taste That Dare Not Speak Its Name" by Devin Friedman captivated me, in that it never occured to me until now about distinctions that exist that I never put in this light (like going to Mexico or Australia.) It's about the middlebrow. It entranced me. Here's the letter commentary I would send to GQ about this article:
I think the middlebrow is a phenomena that only exists between men when it comes to culture. If it applies to women, it must be a small population. I would think this population would be socially elite women, extremely intellectual women and weird hippie artists that somehow make their non-sense sound poetical and intelligent that you can't tell whether they are genuine or real nut jobs. I don't care to find out either. I'd say the majority of the women in North America are "middlebrow". That we all tend to like similar things, yet can be so completely different from each other. Like some middle ground woman culture. This language we all relate to.
If a woman calls herself highbrow whom is intelligent and dresses extremely well, chances are her face isn't attractive. If the same woman is beautiful and dresses just as well, she's probably faking her intelligence or is too arrogant or dumb to realize she isn't. If a woman is lowbrow and unintelligent, she's probably some kind of social trash. I'll exclude the names we all know. If she doesn't think she's lowbrow, she's probably, excuse my language, a dumb slut. Even she can't appeal to the middlebrow of woman culture since she probably thinks she's better than every other woman. This doesn't matter if she's smoking hot or "woman, I don't care how comfortable you are with your body, your confidence is mesmerizing, but please dear Jesus, put on some clothes, I don't need to see that."
And then there are those mouthy sluts who don't take shit from no one, that you can't help but admire, even if they aren't the smartest. It is its own breed of feminism. Not an admirable one, but one you can respect.
I do believe that there are probably a good amount of men who are secretly middlebrow men and always will be. Don't get me wrong, there are tons of douche bags out there. They appear highbrow and then you realize that they think they are, but really they're not. I won't classify those ones, but they may be overly preppy, obsessed with UFC or want to look like a UFC fighter or they pose as intellectuals who aren't all that intellectual and immediately despise you if you're an intelligent woman and show just how dumb they are.
In regards to Feist. I'm not against any man who likes/loves Feist, but if you're a single guy, wearing tight fitting pants and layering a cardigan over a button-up shirt, I'm inclined to think you don't like women, if you know what I'm saying. It's one of those things where you lie and say you're girlfriend made you go with her to a Feist concert, and it was an "okay" time, but really you fan girl screamed inside and tried not to sing the lyrics you totally love. It's okay. It's even more okay if you're married. I think men secretly need a woman so that they can enjoy these things and it being okay. And if a man never enjoys middlebrow things and only the lowbrow, then there's something wrong with him. I can't remember the name of the author who wrote a book on the things white people love, but Wes Anderson and Coen Brother movies are great. And there's nothing wrong with liking them. A middlebrow man is a modern man and is a more real man than any Neanderthal who only loves the lowbrow.
And that's as far as my thoughts went. It needs some serious polishing, but this was the jist of the ideas I had circling my brain this morning. I'll have to give it a go and then submit it. If anything, I could use the writing practice.
Anyways...
Who and where are these GQ men? They can't live in Saskatoon. I have yet to meet a well dressed, intellectual man who isn't a gentleman with his friends, but is gentlemanly enough to not share details and even though women know men are disgusting, they keep it to a minimum like a real man should. I've yet to meet one in Saskatoon. I'd be surprised if there were any in this province or even in the prairies. I thought I met one once. He was close, but no amount of womanly polishing could take the disgusting 13 year old boy out of him. It's not charming. If you're a woman who finds this charming, then you have poor taste in men. That's okay. Everyone deserves love even if they aren't a GQ man, and he wouldn't be every woman's type or taste either. That's okay. The less I have to compete with, the better.
And then there are those almost GQ men. Manly, gentlemanly, not afraid of the middlebrow, but don't openly admit it, that need a wardrobe polish, but they're just not into reading and have no intention of changing it, even though there is nothing wrong with reading books or engaging intellectually with the world. If I had to choose, it would be this one over the dirty adolescent boy who talks about masturbating, farting, talking about woman derogatorily in a negative way (since admiring a good looking person and their "assets" is totally normal.) and whom are entirely selfish and unwilling to change. I would always pick the stubborn gentleman who's an idiot over the man boy idiot, who will never grow up and be a man.
Thinking about it, Mr. Darcy and none other than Colin Firth, I think he is the perfect image of a GQ man. Both as the character and himself. Wanting a GQ man isn't being overly picky, but a matter of preference and taste. This isn't being narrow minded, only living somewhere where there isn't many around makes me look pickier than I really am. I think it's a prairie thing. I'm not asking for much. Taste, intelligence, a little sensitivity and that true understated manliness that you so commonly find in a cowboy. Like an urban cowboy who went to university, but didn't only take commerce classes, but also didn't graduate with something that doesn't pay the bills and doesn't sleep with every woman that throws themselves at him... Enough about that! He won't be found here. I'd be surprised if I found him.
Back Log
I wrote a handful of blogs and never published them. Today I managed to do so. I wrote them in the last 60 days. I know. It’s bad. I have a hard time going home and having the energy or attention span to turn on my computer and post. I’ve been writing, juts not blogging. After sitting at a desk in front of a computer for 6 hours a day, the last thing I’m interested in, is sitting in front of a computer at home.
Yesterday had some miniscule minor event happen. I went to Superstore to go grocery shopping and en route about a block maybe a block and a half, at 3:00pm, and a very large jack rabbit jumped out in front of me. I obviously went out of my way to not hit it, but it came towards me and I had to swerve even more. The last thing I want to do is hit a rabbit in the year of the rabbit. That has to be unlucky. I also almost ran over a magpie. That can’t be good either. Killing things unnecessarily is bad karma. I can’t even kill a spider. I can imagine how racked with guilt I would be if I ran over something I think is cute.
Not to mention I need to stop with the vampire stuff because in my half sleep state I managed to sleep walk about vampires to the point where I said “I rescind my invitation to all of you”. I didn’t remember until this morning which was entertaining. I do some funny stuff in my sleep. It was more like I woke up with the door closed at 4 in the morning and then realized that it wasn’t just in my dreams but something I actually did. I don’t think I would ever rescind my invitation to Eric Northman, unless he had every intention of killing me.
I didn’t reread my previous unpublished posts, but I’m almost certain they’re overly philosophical.
Yesterday had some miniscule minor event happen. I went to Superstore to go grocery shopping and en route about a block maybe a block and a half, at 3:00pm, and a very large jack rabbit jumped out in front of me. I obviously went out of my way to not hit it, but it came towards me and I had to swerve even more. The last thing I want to do is hit a rabbit in the year of the rabbit. That has to be unlucky. I also almost ran over a magpie. That can’t be good either. Killing things unnecessarily is bad karma. I can’t even kill a spider. I can imagine how racked with guilt I would be if I ran over something I think is cute.
Not to mention I need to stop with the vampire stuff because in my half sleep state I managed to sleep walk about vampires to the point where I said “I rescind my invitation to all of you”. I didn’t remember until this morning which was entertaining. I do some funny stuff in my sleep. It was more like I woke up with the door closed at 4 in the morning and then realized that it wasn’t just in my dreams but something I actually did. I don’t think I would ever rescind my invitation to Eric Northman, unless he had every intention of killing me.
I didn’t reread my previous unpublished posts, but I’m almost certain they’re overly philosophical.
Irony
I love irony. Irony is charming in its own right. Irony in stories and story-telling and movies makes one think that this would only happen in a story. The funny thing about irony is that it happens all the time.
Like how I’ve managed to write a few blogs now, but I never posted them and that’s irony in its own right because clearly it doesn’t matter if someone is reading it, it’s just that I’ve put the thought out there. Which is ironic since that is the intention of blogging since it is meant to be seen, it’s supposed to be public.
About a month ago I was in knee deep of irony and it was exhausting. When something gets disrupted once, maybe twice, even three times, I’ll put in a fuss, but after the fourth time, it’s just no use any more but to laugh about it and to accept that the opposite is going to happen when it shouldn’t.
Usually when a moment is ironic for me I say “of course”. And then it drags me into the line from Le Divorce where Naomi Watts’ character says “‘Of course’ The French always say "of course" to everything. Like everything is absolutely normal. C'est normale. Mais bien sûr. l'll never say, ‘But of course.’“ Because irony to me seems so normal. To expect or hope for everything to go smoothly is really the lie, and the reality is that it never goes smoothly, which is why you would say “but of course.” How could it be any other way?
Today’s ironic moments: the office phone lines being down yesterday and today. But having my phone rerouted through Calgary so that I could receive phone calls only to say “our phone lines are down” which defeats the whole purpose of the phones being down.
Another ironic moment: someone managed to jam every printer upstairs printing the same drawing. Oddly it was the same picture. How could only one picture cause the same jam in 3 different printers simultaneously? To top it off I called in for maintenance and happened to say the wrong printer unknowingly. The tech comes to fix the printer that I named, but then has to do another work order on the printer I meant to have fixed. After he leaves I have someone tell me that the printer that I called to be fixed, that I didn’t mean to get fixed got jammed again and needed a tech. How ironic.
The one that got me thinking was the book I had bought the day after my Dad passed. It’s called The Waterproof Bible by Andrew Kaufman. Needless to say I can’t remember what the sleeve said the story was about. Sometime last week I decided that after I finish Jane Eyre, I’m going to read this one. The book is about death and family; about a journey; about fulfilling wishes that normally aren’t humanly possible and so on. I’ve managed to read half of it in less than two days which is unusual for me. It’s not a thick book, the font isn’t too small. Of course the last section I read mentioned fate, which I like to ponder on now and then. Was there a reason that I bought this book on that day and am now only reading it? Maybe it hasn’t shown its full irony since I haven’t finished it. Or maybe it is coincidence. There’s something behind it. I can’t explain the feeling. Like I couldn’t explain the feeling of how vehemently I needed to buy The Alchemist and how strongly I felt about the book during and after my reading of it. I felt the same way about The Miniaturist too, but that was the summer prior to starting university. Something about philosophy was gnawing away at me before I even ventured to take a class in my second year.
It wasn’t until my second year that I decided to take philosophy to fill my schedule because I thought I wanted to minor in anthropology originally. But when I took a class not by Anderson, I realized that you had to write a paper and then present it to the class. After the first day and the syllabus I dropped the class and started searching for a new class to take that was in the same time slot. Some classes were already full and I happened to think “hey, let’s see what these philosophy classes are all about.” Turned out I fell in love with philosophy. It seemed so normal. So fitting. Like it was meant to be in my life the way it is in my life. Is this book that I’m reading prior to my next journey that could be next year? That would be too hopeful. I don’t think I’ve lived long enough to speculate anything of that nature. At any rate I’ll probably be doing the same thing next summer as I’m doing now. That would seem right. Absolutely normal. As if there was no other answer, but that one. When would it ever be something else or something exciting?
Like how I’ve managed to write a few blogs now, but I never posted them and that’s irony in its own right because clearly it doesn’t matter if someone is reading it, it’s just that I’ve put the thought out there. Which is ironic since that is the intention of blogging since it is meant to be seen, it’s supposed to be public.
About a month ago I was in knee deep of irony and it was exhausting. When something gets disrupted once, maybe twice, even three times, I’ll put in a fuss, but after the fourth time, it’s just no use any more but to laugh about it and to accept that the opposite is going to happen when it shouldn’t.
Usually when a moment is ironic for me I say “of course”. And then it drags me into the line from Le Divorce where Naomi Watts’ character says “‘Of course’ The French always say "of course" to everything. Like everything is absolutely normal. C'est normale. Mais bien sûr. l'll never say, ‘But of course.’“ Because irony to me seems so normal. To expect or hope for everything to go smoothly is really the lie, and the reality is that it never goes smoothly, which is why you would say “but of course.” How could it be any other way?
Today’s ironic moments: the office phone lines being down yesterday and today. But having my phone rerouted through Calgary so that I could receive phone calls only to say “our phone lines are down” which defeats the whole purpose of the phones being down.
Another ironic moment: someone managed to jam every printer upstairs printing the same drawing. Oddly it was the same picture. How could only one picture cause the same jam in 3 different printers simultaneously? To top it off I called in for maintenance and happened to say the wrong printer unknowingly. The tech comes to fix the printer that I named, but then has to do another work order on the printer I meant to have fixed. After he leaves I have someone tell me that the printer that I called to be fixed, that I didn’t mean to get fixed got jammed again and needed a tech. How ironic.
The one that got me thinking was the book I had bought the day after my Dad passed. It’s called The Waterproof Bible by Andrew Kaufman. Needless to say I can’t remember what the sleeve said the story was about. Sometime last week I decided that after I finish Jane Eyre, I’m going to read this one. The book is about death and family; about a journey; about fulfilling wishes that normally aren’t humanly possible and so on. I’ve managed to read half of it in less than two days which is unusual for me. It’s not a thick book, the font isn’t too small. Of course the last section I read mentioned fate, which I like to ponder on now and then. Was there a reason that I bought this book on that day and am now only reading it? Maybe it hasn’t shown its full irony since I haven’t finished it. Or maybe it is coincidence. There’s something behind it. I can’t explain the feeling. Like I couldn’t explain the feeling of how vehemently I needed to buy The Alchemist and how strongly I felt about the book during and after my reading of it. I felt the same way about The Miniaturist too, but that was the summer prior to starting university. Something about philosophy was gnawing away at me before I even ventured to take a class in my second year.
It wasn’t until my second year that I decided to take philosophy to fill my schedule because I thought I wanted to minor in anthropology originally. But when I took a class not by Anderson, I realized that you had to write a paper and then present it to the class. After the first day and the syllabus I dropped the class and started searching for a new class to take that was in the same time slot. Some classes were already full and I happened to think “hey, let’s see what these philosophy classes are all about.” Turned out I fell in love with philosophy. It seemed so normal. So fitting. Like it was meant to be in my life the way it is in my life. Is this book that I’m reading prior to my next journey that could be next year? That would be too hopeful. I don’t think I’ve lived long enough to speculate anything of that nature. At any rate I’ll probably be doing the same thing next summer as I’m doing now. That would seem right. Absolutely normal. As if there was no other answer, but that one. When would it ever be something else or something exciting?
Introspection of Nothingness In Death
I started reading a philosophy anthology I bought a year ago. I finally cracked it open and I’m delighted by my initial readings. I’m only into my first essay, but it has been enough to get my noggin going, hence the title. This is my very informal introduction into my very short essay on the nothingness of death.
This is a very general broad statement that I am neither entitled to make nor make the assumption without and concrete evidence, but I’m going to make it anyway. I think that we all describe nothingness as blackness. That non-existence is a place void of light, an absence of light, and a portal of nothing. This thought of nothingness has all kinds of errors. I think these types of thoughts stem from trying to imagine or picture what nothingness could be. It is a way to understand what we cannot understand. I’m not going to delve into the preposterous notions of near death experiences and the phenomena that surround it with psychic evaluations and supernatural events. I’m going to look at it from a purely scientific stand point.
In regards to death, we either believe it is to no longer exist as we were to say, human, but either people believe after this there is nothing or after this there is an afterlife. Neither need be proved one way or the other to suppose that what happens after this is an impossible feat by anyone to make. Anyone to say that they know what happens in death is a fool and only fools believe fools. The state of nothingness is not a state. Nothingness has no states or properties. It has no existence. So if you were dead you wouldn’t exist in nothingness, you would not exist at all. To think you will be existing nothingness is to assume that nothingness exists, therefore you would exist. That is true of an afterlife. It cannot be a dark place because you still exist, just not in the same physical sense you had once existed before. That being said, nothingness is not black or dark, it’s void of anything and everything. It’s really a metaphysical headache. The way the brain understands things is that if there is one thing, then there has to be an opposite, and if there is an opposite, then we can gather that there is an in between so to speak. We all know this to be true. To argue against it would be silly.
Death is not nothingness; it just is the absence of life. Although it makes sense to think that death would be nothingness, we cannot assume that to be dead is to be clouded in dark. To believe nothingness exists it to believe that nothingness it exactly what it is not. To exist means to be something that is tangible, something accessible, some place that can be visited in one way or another. And that is what takes away from what nothingness means.
The dictionary meanings are interesting. They read as follows “the state of being nothing”, “something that is nonexistent: a view of humanity as suspended between infinity and nothingness”, “lack of being; nonexistence: The sound faded into nothingness”. All referenced from Dictionary.com. The last one, the description or example to emulate nothingness is entirely wrong. Sound doesn’t fade into nothingness, there is always some remnant of its vibrations still rippling in the universe in one way or another. It’s a poor example to use. That’s the problem with a lot of things. They make sense, but that doesn’t mean they’re necessarily true, just that you can see the thinking behind it. That is the problem with the human brain. People say all sorts of things that can be logically understood, but not logically sound. I don’t know if that’s language, or our thought process or the combination of both. It is an interesting topic nonetheless. I should have taken logic in my third year, because I think my papers would have greatly improved by this asset I didn’t find an asset when I had first taken it. To get back to what I was saying, all kinds of people have these delusions and because they make sense they think they are right and
these people you cannot argue out of their belief because they are fools and to argue with is like arguing with a rock. I think that the human race has this informal and internal knowledge that we all seem to possess. Maybe we learned it somewhere; it just did not get added to when we could understand more intellectually deeper thought. I have no idea. I have no intention of examining this, but in philosophy you can. It is like there is some unwritten rule that if you can argue something and it is logical and logically sound it can be permitted as a truth. Technically I could explore this without any real hard science to back it up. I don’t think science could define what death and nothingness is either. If there is nothing to tangibly examine, then nothing can be learned from it. I’m boldly going to say that science is the study of events i.e. cause and effect, although Hume would say we couldn’t predict/determine nor see what really is the cause of any effect. The outcome could change at any point of time and that not all things are predictable 100% of the time. Unless its theoretical, and then it’s straight hypothesizing based on equations and physics and whatnot and then well, it’s not hard science anymore.
***This was the end of my essay which I didn't conclude. Too much time has passed to even maintain the same tone. But I'm sure what I said can be somewhat understood. Maybe not. I wrote it so it makes sense to me.***
This is a very general broad statement that I am neither entitled to make nor make the assumption without and concrete evidence, but I’m going to make it anyway. I think that we all describe nothingness as blackness. That non-existence is a place void of light, an absence of light, and a portal of nothing. This thought of nothingness has all kinds of errors. I think these types of thoughts stem from trying to imagine or picture what nothingness could be. It is a way to understand what we cannot understand. I’m not going to delve into the preposterous notions of near death experiences and the phenomena that surround it with psychic evaluations and supernatural events. I’m going to look at it from a purely scientific stand point.
In regards to death, we either believe it is to no longer exist as we were to say, human, but either people believe after this there is nothing or after this there is an afterlife. Neither need be proved one way or the other to suppose that what happens after this is an impossible feat by anyone to make. Anyone to say that they know what happens in death is a fool and only fools believe fools. The state of nothingness is not a state. Nothingness has no states or properties. It has no existence. So if you were dead you wouldn’t exist in nothingness, you would not exist at all. To think you will be existing nothingness is to assume that nothingness exists, therefore you would exist. That is true of an afterlife. It cannot be a dark place because you still exist, just not in the same physical sense you had once existed before. That being said, nothingness is not black or dark, it’s void of anything and everything. It’s really a metaphysical headache. The way the brain understands things is that if there is one thing, then there has to be an opposite, and if there is an opposite, then we can gather that there is an in between so to speak. We all know this to be true. To argue against it would be silly.
Death is not nothingness; it just is the absence of life. Although it makes sense to think that death would be nothingness, we cannot assume that to be dead is to be clouded in dark. To believe nothingness exists it to believe that nothingness it exactly what it is not. To exist means to be something that is tangible, something accessible, some place that can be visited in one way or another. And that is what takes away from what nothingness means.
The dictionary meanings are interesting. They read as follows “the state of being nothing”, “something that is nonexistent: a view of humanity as suspended between infinity and nothingness”, “lack of being; nonexistence: The sound faded into nothingness”. All referenced from Dictionary.com. The last one, the description or example to emulate nothingness is entirely wrong. Sound doesn’t fade into nothingness, there is always some remnant of its vibrations still rippling in the universe in one way or another. It’s a poor example to use. That’s the problem with a lot of things. They make sense, but that doesn’t mean they’re necessarily true, just that you can see the thinking behind it. That is the problem with the human brain. People say all sorts of things that can be logically understood, but not logically sound. I don’t know if that’s language, or our thought process or the combination of both. It is an interesting topic nonetheless. I should have taken logic in my third year, because I think my papers would have greatly improved by this asset I didn’t find an asset when I had first taken it. To get back to what I was saying, all kinds of people have these delusions and because they make sense they think they are right and
these people you cannot argue out of their belief because they are fools and to argue with is like arguing with a rock. I think that the human race has this informal and internal knowledge that we all seem to possess. Maybe we learned it somewhere; it just did not get added to when we could understand more intellectually deeper thought. I have no idea. I have no intention of examining this, but in philosophy you can. It is like there is some unwritten rule that if you can argue something and it is logical and logically sound it can be permitted as a truth. Technically I could explore this without any real hard science to back it up. I don’t think science could define what death and nothingness is either. If there is nothing to tangibly examine, then nothing can be learned from it. I’m boldly going to say that science is the study of events i.e. cause and effect, although Hume would say we couldn’t predict/determine nor see what really is the cause of any effect. The outcome could change at any point of time and that not all things are predictable 100% of the time. Unless its theoretical, and then it’s straight hypothesizing based on equations and physics and whatnot and then well, it’s not hard science anymore.
***This was the end of my essay which I didn't conclude. Too much time has passed to even maintain the same tone. But I'm sure what I said can be somewhat understood. Maybe not. I wrote it so it makes sense to me.***
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