So....... (or "The First Blog Post after a Long Absence")

This the first blog post after a long absence. I didn't bother to fact check, but it's something like forty years. Maybe fifty. It's hard to tell, really.

Anyways, these blog posts feel a lot like meeting your ex-girlfriend for the first time after breaking up ("So...how are things?"). Always a terrible experience. And this is very similar because the relationship between Blogger and Audience is in some ways akin to Girlfriend and Boyfriend (or whatever interchangeable genders fit your style): the Blogger puts out shit, the Audience reads that shit, and then comments with their own shit, and a cycle is born. In the same way, the Boyfriend (or whatever) puts out shit and the Girlfriend reads it, and gives back some more shit.

Now, what happens with the Boyfriend/Girlfriend can happen with the Blogger/Audience: shit gets ugly, one side gets upset/depressed/stupid/etc. and things, perhaps, come to an end. I suppose that's what happened here. I got tired/bored/stupid/depressed/whatever and stopped blogging. I'm pretty certain no one reads this thing, but potential readers operate in much the same way as actual readers, with concern to the Blogger.

Anyways (again), I suppose I'll write some more stuff. Thankfully for all readers, actual and potential, the NBA Finals is pretty much over, thus basketball is over, so the only sports writing will be baseball related, and I doubt I'll be writing much about America's Favorite Pastime, so there is, maybe, a God, I guess.

As for me, I found out (that is, I came upon this realization, rather than decided in any sort of autonomous fashion) that I pretty much hate most other people. Sure, there's a lot of people I really like, lots of cool people, but most of the people I meet on a day to day basis tend to suck. But then again, don't I suck, too? Aren't I just as retarded and stupid and ugly and not nice as they are? Is it all that, though? Or is it that everyone I meet doesn't give a shit about anything other than A) what's between their legs; or B) what's between their shoulder blades (their heart). You see, it's all about penis/vagina interaction (and some anus, obvs) and "how my heart feels." But isn't there a third part to that? What goes on between the ears? Shouldn't thinking and reasoning and learning be on a par with sex and love?

The world, apparently, doesn't agree.

But let's step back. Aren't I just like everyone else when I complain that the world doesn't adhere to my views? Yup. I'm just as much of an asshole as everyone else. So my complaints are stupid and don't matter and there's really no reason to voice them.

But then how do I relate? Because that second part (love) is all about relating to and with other people in a way that's more significant than "Would you like fries with that?" And how do you relate to other people when you're so distanced psychologically from them?

I don't know. That's my difficulty at the moment. That's my "conundrum" (I hate that word, btw). I'm having trouble relating to other people - fulfilling Need #2 - and thus I'm having trouble living.

It kinda sucks, you know?

Probably.

But most people will misinterpret this post as depressingly hateful/potentially suicidal. Sigh. So, relating to and with other people is like standing in a dark room trying to figure out who's standing in front of you - and the whole time you're not certain there's even somewhere there.

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Final Post from that Ridiculous History Class

I already posted something just before this class started, but then it began, and things started happening. I couldn't help but post a final blog, if only to include the following discussion that just took place.

So at the beginning of class, people (including the professor) started talking about changing the time of the final: instead of showing up at 7:30 am, we would show up at 8:00 or 8:15 or whatever. The "change talk" began because the prof decided that it would "totally uncool" if people came in late just because they didn't want to wake up early. And then it got stupid ludicrous.

First, people started calling out random times with passion and judicious authority, which meant they were whining and complaining and felt their opinion mattered. Then the prof said we should take a vote, at which point some girl, with all seriousness, said "Not everyone is here, so we can't take a fair vote."

Really? So, she was concerned with a truly egalitarian assessment rather than the fact that since everyone is not here today, which she alluded to with her statement, not everyone would know the time of the final was changed. I mean, honestly, she said that because not everyone is here, we can't take a fair vote, but she didn't think about that same "not everyone" knowing about the change we might make? Good Stephen Colbert, woman, you're in a PHILOSOPHY class.

Anyways, the professor started squinting and thinking really hard, and finally came up with "I just don't know guys. I just don't know if we can figure this out." Brilliant. And this guy wrote an incredible thesis for his doctorate on the interpretations of ancient philosophy and its relevance and importance in today's philosophical debate. No joke.

After another minute of this tomfoolery, we abandoned the cause, as a group, and moved on to the lesson he had planned for today. Now, we have a final Thursday, and he's teaching entirely new material Tuesday. That, more than anything else, sums up the absoludiculocity of this class.

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Live Update from that Philosophy Class Again

So the professor comes in late and starts messing around with the computer. After a minute or so, he decides he doesn't know how to get rid of that giant, loud clicking sound the mouse does whenever you, um, click. It wouldn't matter except the volume on the computer is at full blast, so every click is a sonorous roar. But the professor apparently doesn't know about computer volume adjustments, so we're stuck with it.

Next, he realizes he doesn't have his slides on the computer, and why? Because he forgot his flash drive, or, as he calls it "that thing (motioning a sword thrust with his hands) you plug into the computer." So we're going "old school."

This is a bad move. I'm taking notes on my laptop, and when my keyboard strokes are as loud or louder as his lecturing, we've got a problem. Even when you take into account the thunder my sausage fingers create as they rapidly tap out the veritable nonsense he's spewing, he should still be louder. It's a small room, for Stephen Colbert's sake.

Now, I made a vow (surreptitious, at best) to take good notes this class period to prepare myself for finals preparation. But I needed to type this blog. Fortunately, he spends the first fifteen minutes of every class going over what we talked about the last time (in a way that's easily as complicated and indiscernible as the first time we learned the material). So I have time to mess around, write a blog, read ESPN articles, etc.

In any case, his unnecessary preamble is nearly over. Back to the trenches kids.

Oh, and some ManLove. Well, it's ManLove if you're an awkward sadist (FILLMAN)
.

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??? is a Copy Cat

Just kidding, ???. But yeah, ??? started a blog, too. Everyone, and their mother, is starting a blog. Woot.

And, on an unrelated note, we're all losers! We blog! bLaRg!

http://tinfoilhatsareus.blogspot.com/

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Reporting from PHI 301: The Class I'm Not Taking Seriously

So I haven't been taking this class too seriously. It's "History of Ancient Philosophy" and the way the professor is approaching it, I don't have to do much. He had us buy an anthological text and then he offered us, for free, his book-in-progress about the subject. We have readings in both, but here's the catch: his lectures, every day, are right out of his book, chronologically as well as word-for-word paste jobs. So, if I read and understand his book, I don't have to show up. Currently, I'm under .500 in terms of attendance.

Right now, the class is attempting to pick his brain about a midterm review and it's not going well. His approach is that a significant portion of what he is testing us on is our ability to understand what material is important; naturally, the questions people are asking do not fit into that schematic. Obviously, there is a lot of frustration. I find it all funny. At first, I wasn't a fan of the way he was teaching the class, but now, after hearing him talk about the midterm, I'm starting to really like the guy. I might be the only one.

In any case, I thought I'd give a characterization of the man through two direct quotes, right from class. The first comes from last week, and the second from right now, about ten minutes ago.

(When describing why both political parties in Athens at the time, the 'democratic' people and the aristocrats, were angry at the sophists.)

"The democrats, the democratic people at the time, were upset because a sophistical education was very expensive and the democratic people were, notoriously, poor. Well, I guess not much has changed."

He himself thought this was funny and laughed heartily. Also, it's only offensive if he's some sort of conservative ideologue, but he's not, so it's hilarious.

(Some guy trying to reassure the class that this midterm isn't going to be as hellish as they were thinking.)

Some Guy - "Guys, look, it's in his best interest for us to succeed."

Professor - "No it's not."

BAM! So quick. He didn't wait for a second to come back with that line. The class laughed and then realized what he said was a bad thing, at which point they broke out into desperate cries for help, which went unnoticed. The class, I think, is getting together afterwards to beat up "Some Guy" and feed him to the fishes. I might watch; it could be fun.

Oh, and if you haven't seen it yet, look at Jon's blog (http://jcwiii.blogspot.com). He claims it will CONSTANTLY be FUNNY, so it's our job to ridicule him whenever it SUCKS BALLS. Will it be tomorrow? I'm ready to find out.

Also, I think Ben should start a blog. And Keith. And Jesus. 'Cause then we'd all be cool. And we could all study Spy together. Keith knows what I'm talking about. And, I guess technically, Jesus, too.

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My Brother Has a Blog: Run For the Hills!

Jon's Blog About Gay People Like Himself

So Jon made a blog. The first post is hilarious. Read it. Cringe. Laugh. Die. And then give me your worldly possessions.

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The First Post...That's Intense.

There's a certain feeling you get when you create a blog, whether you're just starting out or you're a seasoned veteran working on number 27. Obviously, you're excited, because you wouldn't be starting a blog if you didn't want to write shit, send it into Teh Internets, and hope someone reads it. The idea of producing something and someone reading and responding to it is just too good. There's certainly an egoism to it; when people read and respond, you feel you have been successful. Feeling successful can lead to emotions that are very much the opposite of modest. Being read is, simply, a great feeling.

The second feeling you get is dread: you fear, quite viscerally, that no one will care what you're saying. And that hurts. Clearly, there's no reason to assume anyone should care one bit about whatever it is you're writing about, but you still feel lame inside if no one reads it. It's like dressing up all crazy style for a Halloween party and then the whole night goes by and no one really notices how much effort you put into that Joker makeup and green jacket, and whatever. It's sad, and you feel unappreciated. Not cool.



But let's be honest: why should anyone care what you're saying? Who are you? No one, that's who. The superficial assumption is that you live in your parent's basement/guest house and you have nothing better to do but criticize other people/detail the trivialities of your life. And that can be pretty damn boring, I have to admit. Hell, this is probably boring. And so initially the incentive to spend five minutes reading the random thoughts of person X is incredibly weak. Why read a new blog when you could go to YouTube and type in "fat people falling" and spend 30 minutes on the floor, dying of laughter?

So in the beginning there is excitement and trepidation. You want to write, you need that feeling of being read, being wanted, but you're scared shitless that no one is going to care and you're afraid of what that will do to your psyche. So what do you do? You write and write and don't give a shit. And if no one reads you, the question arises: am I any good?

Here's an appropriate deductive syllogism to illustrate the answer to this question:

1. If you write shit and no one reads it, then you suck.
2. You write shit and no one reads it.
3. Ergo, you suck.*

That's logic, bitches.



*I clearly suck. Check it.

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