Month: August 2011

Update

Classes have begun. I drove down the coast last weekend, stopping through NJ, MD, VA and finally made it to Nashville after 1400 grueling miles. Thank god for the iphone. I don’t condone surfing the internet while driving, but I would lose my mind if I couldn’t read on ten hour long car drives.

My room is situated and, for the most part, furnished and clean. I still need to unpack a few more boxes of books and organize my three books shelves. Our living room is empty, save a TV. Our dining room hosts three fold-able chairs and a fold-able table. Classy. My room mates are all clean, enjoy health and fitness, school, reading and learning. It’s an amazing combination. We all play guitar, we all do outdoor activities, we all philosophize. Couldn’t be happier really. The job search has begun *dun, dun, dun*. I dropped my metaphysics class in favor of a more realistic classload so I could focus on interviews and job searching. Besides, speculating about the problem of why there is so much evil in the world isn’t on my list of priorities, especially because I don’t really believe in evil. So, I’m in the process of updating my five page resume to a single page; something that seems like a daunting feat. Five classes, VP of the fraternity, and minimal other obligations. So far so good. I’m in the process of securing an internship at a local healthcare clinic so I can gain experience that will prove valuable during job interviews for healthcare IT companies such as Huron Consulting, HCA, EPIC Systems and Sage Intergy. I’d like to get a job on the sales and implementation side of things. Its a burgeoning market and I figure I need to jump on the wave before it closes out.

Our apartment complex is pretty amazing. Multiple pools, grills with free propane, workout gyms, a business center with free copying, among other things. The apartments themselves are pretty chic with wood fire places and a decent deck. I have the master bedroom, complete with a mega bathroom, walk-in closet, and a ridiculous amount of extra space despite my queensize bed, bookshelves, and desk.

So. I’m gonna resume writing. About? Not sure. I’ll resume with my crazy thoughts. Log about my days. Log about material I’m learning in class.

 

A little story, for fun

Went to the bar tonight. Met some chick who was thoroughly interested in me. This was a funny situation. She showed genuine interest, made the bold move of coming up to me and engaging in conversation, and continued showing interest even when I didn’t have much of a care to. She was cute. I was attracted to her. I decided to reciprocate and show her some interest. Talked. Talked. Talked. She excused herself. Some other chick began talking to me. I saw this girl pass as unobviously but obviously in search of me as possible. Almost out the door before I excused myself and asked where she was going. No matter. Continued talking. Probably slipped a little when I said I was waiting for her and the only reason I was still around was to see her. Hah. No matter. Gushing flirtation is bearable so long as it happens once and only once, and she was still engaged, so I was safe. So we talked. Talked more. At this point it was getting late, our joyful flirtations were beginning to grow relatively stale, for my taste anyway, and I was thinking about going to bed, with her. But I waffled and asked myself if she was worth it, if I really wanted to have sex with her, to continue our little banter out the bar, into my car, and into my bed. I asked myself if she was worth talking to tomorrow morning when I woke up and she needed a ride back to campus. In spite of these reservations we continued talking in the hopes that my man muscle would over power my reason. Then one of my friends came up to me in the midst of it all and mentioned she was hooking up with one of our mutual friends. Hooking up? Does that mean sex? I asked. No. So fair game. I thought it was humorous when I heard the name of who it was, but everyone has their tastes and I’m not one to judge. So among our extended conversations I noticed the guy was standing directly behind me. For whatever god forsaken reason I decided to be a little douch’ie and point out he was there. Hey look who it is, I motioned, it’s your boy. It was half joking, and I quite honestly expected her to get embarrassed and reject or ignore him. What turned out happening was pretty much what I expected, minus the rejection part. It got weird. He made a successful effort to make it awkward, which I happily acknowledged as awkward. He made some jokes and pretending to be retarded. Yea. I was totally lost as to what he was trying to do. Some retarded skit of his where he literally acts retarded and tells jokes, sorta like Jimmy south park style. Then he excused himself momentarily. The chick was pretty flustered. I asked if she was okay, and what the hell that was. She responded with a typical go-to, I’m so drunk I’m not sure what’s happening. So then I asked, are you a classy girl? she laughed and asked what classy was. I responded with, classy is having good taste. She laughed, I laughed, then, I think, she got my insinuation and excused herself. Good riddance. The next I saw her she had retreated to his presence. I find the whole thing laughable really.

So I decided to dip out at that point. No need for petty hook ups with desperate girls slooting it around. I drove home and, upon entering the gated community, I began tailgating this white mercedes. The only reason I was tailgating, in gods honest truth, was because there are typically zero parking spots at that time of night and I hoped to snake one from this car. From my car I see three blonde heads and a set of blue beady eyes lasering in on me from the back seat. We maneuvered throughout the parking lot, slowly, cause they rode their brakes in an effort to aggravate me and stall my persistent inclination to tailgate. No matter. It didn’t deter me and I rode practically on top of them. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we ended up parking right next to eachother. Some blonde girl gets out of the car and quickly approaches me as I get out, asking, do you always have the nerve to tailgate in a parking lot? I laughably responded with, only when I’m drunk and really wanna get a parking spot before you. That ameliorated the tension for a moment, then I noticed two other striking blondes step out of the car. I subconsciously asked myself if I had died and gone to heaven on the way home. False. No matter, it was a close second.

I continued talking with these girls in a playful manner as they hassled me for tailgating. Their initial aggression quickly evaporated as I laughed and smiled sheepishly while I explained that I was really trying to steal a spot from them. We continued our conversation as I walked towards my building, then they hassled me about following them. I responded that they were stalking me and probably knew were I lived and were waiting to follow me inside. It was all fun. Their names? Emily, Virginia, Chelsea… I think. The last one, Chelsea, was by far the most attractive, and it’s funny cause I spent the least time looking or acknowledging her, and I wish I hadn’t. Again, and I need to reiterate, the last one was by far the most stunning, with sharp delicate features, a petite and slender figure, and pleasant almond eyes with plush flowing blonde hair. The other two had recently graduated from ole miss. The third, Chelsea, although I’m almost certain that isn’t her name, had graduated from the ‘state’, or Mississippi state after I reflected a moment on what the hell that meant. They lived in my building. When we departed we said farewell and I voiced that I was hoping to see them again. Despite their coy reluctance to embrace my good humor and genuine nature, they were definitely fond of me and I could see they were fighting to stop the smiles that enveloped their faces as I approached and introduced myself to all of them.
Is it weird that I’m recounting all this info? Ha. Nah.

So, moral of the story. Women are predictably unpredictable. So, nothing new learned today. But classes are good.

Job search… commenced. Good money, I hope. Let’s see if I can secure a healthcare consulting job within the next month. Cause frankly, that’s when they stop offering their job offers. ha.

Oh. And I’m trying to get mega jacked and in shape. I’ll continue updating my progress. I weigh 187. Ridiculously unsat. I need to convert that to 100% muscle stat. Gimme three weeks and I’ll be down 10 pounds of fat and a pound of two of mucscle. Woot. Love genetics. Cheers.

Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding: Hume’s Empiricism, Skepticism, and Naturalism

The whole premise of Hume’s An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding was to delineate the limits of human understanding and put a rest to metaphysical speculation by grounding philosophical reasoning in experience rather than pure reason. From the outset Hume’s preferred method of inquiry is scientific, based on observation and experimentation, rather than purely abstract reasoning. He posits that any fruitful beliefs about the world must be rooted in experience rather than wholly reflective theorizing.

I will begin by briefly summarizing Hume’s primary claims regarding his empiricism, skepticism, and naturalism and illustrate his emphasis on each of these in an effort to show that his philosophy is consistent and equally supports all three. I will ultimately conclude that his account of naturalism is the least developed of the three. This paper will then examine the methods and their accuracy that he employs in developing each of these. Continue reading “Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding: Hume’s Empiricism, Skepticism, and Naturalism”

Thoughts on Rorty's Neo-pragmatism

Rorty lays out a compelling case for his rendition of pragmatism. Ultimately his claim produces the same effect as the sentence “This sentence has no significance.” By throwing out the ideas of essential truths and knowledge as simply products of social convention, he adopts a pseudo-relativistic view of the world where truth and knowledge are contingent upon the starting points afforded to us by our language. However, he maintains that conversational inquiry has a purpose and maintains a utility, despite where its conclusions may lead. As the aforementioned sentence demonstrates, despite its conclusion or message, we are engaged in an activity that, while futile, allows us to converge in understanding. In the event if we decide to evade the contingency of our starting points and continue the pursuit of higher essences, we do so not as a means of establishing something essential, but to satisfy some “Metaphysical Comfort”.  Continue reading “Thoughts on Rorty's Neo-pragmatism”

Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding: Hume's Empiricism, Skepticism, and Naturalism

The whole premise of Hume’s An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding was to delineate the limits of human understanding and put a rest to metaphysical speculation by grounding philosophical reasoning in experience rather than pure reason. From the outset Hume’s preferred method of inquiry is scientific, based on observation and experimentation, rather than purely abstract reasoning. He posits that any fruitful beliefs about the world must be rooted in experience rather than wholly reflective theorizing.

I will begin by briefly summarizing Hume’s primary claims regarding his empiricism, skepticism, and naturalism and illustrate his emphasis on each of these in an effort to show that his philosophy is consistent and equally supports all three. I will ultimately conclude that his account of naturalism is the least developed of the three. This paper will then examine the methods and their accuracy that he employs in developing each of these. Continue reading “Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding: Hume's Empiricism, Skepticism, and Naturalism”

Thoughts on Rorty’s Neo-pragmatism

Rorty lays out a compelling case for his rendition of pragmatism. Ultimately his claim produces the same effect as the sentence “This sentence has no significance.” By throwing out the ideas of essential truths and knowledge as simply products of social convention, he adopts a pseudo-relativistic view of the world where truth and knowledge are contingent upon the starting points afforded to us by our language. However, he maintains that conversational inquiry has a purpose and maintains a utility, despite where its conclusions may lead. As the aforementioned sentence demonstrates, despite its futile conclusion or message, we are engaged in an activity that allows us to converge in understanding. In the event if we decide to evade the contingency of our starting points and continue the pursuit of higher essences, we do so not as a means of establishing something essential, but to satisfy some “Metaphysical Comfort”.  Continue reading “Thoughts on Rorty’s Neo-pragmatism”

Manu

So I mostly try to maneuver my way into whatever conception a person wants to be me in, so long as it allows me to retain a certain control. I hate not having control. I love being able to manipulate responses. I exist in various states. I’m not one person. I am many people. I do my best to be whoever I can to whoever someone wants me to be. I am sensitive to peoples needs and I make sure I can superficially satisfy them with the right responses and behaviors.

I picked up the phone, but my heart sunk and my fingers trembled at the thought of what I was going to say. It didn’t exactly matter, but to me it did. To me it mattered a whole lot.

What should I write about? Being hollow. I hate harping on being hollow. Blah. I dream of an ideal life and it begins to bud and blossom, lifting a veil as though the gray began to evaporate into brilliant blue. I can see myself, full of passion, or diliberation, or something intentional rather than half ass and half meaningful.

I want to be hurting. I want pain. I do not want equilibirum. I don’t know how to impose equilibirum, but when it’s imposed on me I become pacified and passive, utterly facile and fatuous. My life’s meaning suddenly exfoliates and falls to the ground and I’m left looking at an empty shell of reasons and motives.

What story? I need story. NEED. These words. They designate some necessity, some compulsive demand. But there is none. It is all percieved. Content, like the stoics, I brush off the ‘need’ for this or that and instead I chose these vices, addictions, and the like as a matter of taste rather than necessity. It becomes silly and trivial.

How to transcend your mind? Get out of this shell? I wonder? Meditation. Drugs? Perhaps. Perhaps it’s throwing myself into the unknown, the unfamiliar. But god.. it’s all familiar. Then it dawns on me… the nausea. It begins to creep again. Meaning evaporates under its heavy wings, and coolness chills my world to the bitter bone. I begin to gnaw at this bone, in anxious compromise, in negligent care of my self worth. How to speak worthwhile? How to choose?

Why do I feel like I’m swimming in a generation of utterly retarded everything? BAEofheaihc

Random

I’m currently reading Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, quite possibly one of the best books I’ve ever read. Although the fictional story is about a black boy coming to age in the north and south, I feel that I can somehow identify with his struggle, his feelings, his sentiments regarding naivety and injustice.

No, no, no. I am a fighter. I fight against the stream, against the locomotion of habit. I have no country, no people. I have this frail fragile ego that I neglect as best I can, cause feeding him only starves me, only detracts from the fight. God knows I need to fight more than I need to feed that obscene ego of mine.

The pendulum of her hips left my thoughts utterly suspended, drifting somewhere in that evil world your parents try hiding you from during adolescence when they cover your eyes or muffle your ears. It’s unfortunate that everyone eventually succumbs to these evil exposures, that piety cannot be preserved. However severe the exposure turns out, it seems that innocence will forever plague a parents priorities. The white soulful innocence being thrown to the mud, to the baneful slaughter of swine, is much too painful for a mother concerned with the health and hygiene of her heredity.

Inconsequential. That’s what I think of life. Unless you do something radical. And what is radical? Irrevocable. Unconventional. Something so drastic that it tears people from the white walls of their placidity with a desecrating splatter of shock and awe. Words used to matter. They move the minds of those who have practiced the art of fine-tuning, of finding rhythm amongst the discord, harmony amongst the harrowing howl. But even that’s a stretch. Who know’s why we admire the decrepit preachers of past paramount.

Fear is a response. Nothing is in the world. All is a representation of some prior perception. These perceptions carve out a narrow sliver in reality, dub over this fabricated facticity called time, and ascribe names and symbols for preserving past observations.

I’d love to be an individualist, but I must pay tribute to the society that raised and reared me. I would love to be a socialist, but I may pay tribute to the individuality that contemptuously forces its way onto the world.  These anarchistic thoughts arose out of the philosophical contemplation of the irreconcilability of authority and autonomy. There is no legitimate authority if I am to be an autonomous man. Then again, we may say that I am not autonomous: what then becomes of the conundrum?

Don’no

Who am I? What’s holding me down? A people? Goals? What do I want to do with my life? I need to shake myself free from myself. I have no place. No direction. I am floating.

I don’t speak with conviction. I don’t believe in anything enough to speak up. It seems my spirit to live is barely alive. I sit and wait, for some force, for some demand, to move me somewhere.

I hide from myself. I hide behind an image, books, all these things that I’m not entirely authentic about. Even that word is ambiguous. Nausea. Here it is.

Her

“Set your sights high, the higher the better. Expect the most wonderful things to happen, not in the future but right now. Realize that nothing is too good. Allow absolutely nothing to hamper you or hold you up in any way.”
— Eileen Caddy

So I talked to my ex girl friend of five years on Friday. Do I still love her? Do I still feel a flood of emotions when I hear her voice? Yes. We only talked for twenty minutes and most of what we talked about was mundane and routine: how is your family? what’re you up to? where are you working? any boyfriends? etc. Nonetheless, I love her. One day I’d like to get to know her again. what do I mean by love her? I mean, my body goes weak, I get nervous, I want to be by her side whenever I think about her. That’s how that goes down.

I’m a different person than I was five years ago. I know she is too. I don’t hold anything against her. I don’t pretend to know who she is these days. I only remember who she use to be. And I hope that’s not how she remember’s me. I was batshit outta my mind when I was in highschool. Nowadays I only talk that way. I’m not actually bat shit crazy (debateable). Nevertheless.

I want to see her again. I want to fly her up to new england and see all the beautiful lush green mountains. I want to take her to a island with a cabin on the lake and spend a day or two getting to know who she’s become since we last left off. I’m going to call her monday and tell her I’m buying her a plane ticket and ask her what days work best for her. If she says she can’t do it, well, I have nothing to lose. I will be in Nashville, she’ll be in Orlando. I don’t have anything to do with her. It doesn’t matter to me. I just know how I felt about her at the age of 17, 18, 19… and even now, even though we haven’t spoken in almost two years.

So I want to fly her up here. She said she’s never been to new england. One of the few places she hasn’t been she says.

Man. xxx. We’ll see. She’s a free spirit. Does whatever. I just wanna take care of her and love her and such. Ever since I’ve decided to make myself into a better person its her I think about as the driving reason. One day I want to feel that strongly again. I know that if I can’t be with her, I want it to be with someone who is even better, or at least someone I’m prepared to deal with. I’m tired. And drunk. and hooka’ed out. night.

 

 

Skin

I know what it is that get’s under my skin. The chincey catch lines, the quotes, avatars: everything carefully chosen to reveal a disgusting production of a person. A hollow shell. A digital representation. Quotes by celebrities.

Life makes me sick, sicker than hell, and most excited and enthusiastic- all at the same time. I am a wonderful paradox. I can’t figure it out. I shouldn’t figure it out. Absurdity. God. I just don’t want to be a pathetic stranger, to myself. I hate being a duplicate. Another so called ‘individual’.

I love looking at these so called individuals… and seeing them as pathetically shallow rip-offs… only to realize that I may as well be talking about myself. I cannot let myself escape the criticism I condemn others with. It would be too hypocritical. I might fight it more than them, but I am subjected to the same influences, the same conditioning contingencies. Wahh.

NEW NOVEL. FRESH FECUND. *cry*

I am a man. Lost. More thoughts tomorrow. Maybe. I need to stir and poke myself. .what the hell am I thinking. living iwth my aunt and uncle. another week. then maryland to see jamie, then virginia to see jeff, then nashville for classes.

What is Good Writing?

I like to think that practice and passion are the necessary elements for good writing. Structure and style, prose and poetics: these follow effortlessly from the deliberate declaration of your voice.

My aspiration is only to communicate the motifs comprising the human condition.

A side thought: A friend and I were talking the other day about writing and what it took to write well. My initial inclination was to say that practice and passion have been the driving force behind any great writer. But then we thought about those people who are just great at communicating ideas clearly without much practice or passion for the subject. I think we decided that the art of writing is like the art of drawing. The more you do it the better. But what’s most important are the ideas. You can’t draw something you cannot conceive. Likewise it is with writing. Ideas make writers great. If you work at communicating these, all else follows.

Too Much

202. TOO NEAR AND TOO FAR. Often reader and author do not understand each other because the author knows his theme too well and finds it almost boring, so that he leaves out the examples he knows by the hundred; but the reader is strange to the matter and finds it poorly substantiated if the examples are withheld from him.
~Friedrich Nietzsche, Human All Too Human.

I relate all too well.

Nu Day

I’ve got dozens of half finished drafts I need to finish writing and post. In time.

I’ve been angry lately. No so much angry, but confused and oppressed inside. It makes me want to lash out at the world. The answer to these problems, I believe, is found in this will to power, or will-power. The url of this blog “declare your being” is just another way of saying it. It means to act deliberately and openly, to express and institute your influence onto the world: To live unabashed, unashamed, loudly and proudly, to overcome fears, to make unrequited decisions.

We are gods. We are living worlds. Inside of us is where it all happens. Limitations are non-existent. They are simply preceptions. So this anger I feel, this oppression that clothes me and pacifies me and feminizes me, needs to be shaken and thrown off with a violent resistance. So I get angry. I get pissed. I tell myself, I’m gonna read the shit outta that book, I’m gonna look that person in the eye and tell them exactly what I think, I’m gonna lift the living hell outta that weight. I stand taller. I walk with more deliberation. I am confident.

Every day is a battle. The battle exists in my mind. Either you make life work for you, or you end up working for life. I will overcome on a daily basis. I will remind myself that this battle is real. It is a battle of will power and the world. Either I will over come, or I will be overcome. I will do, or I will die. And I want to burn brilliantly. I want to live with zealous enthusiasm and zest. I want my words to echo and strike a chord in every man’s mind and heart. I want to maintain influence over myself that people look at in awe. I want to self-command, to master myself.

I don’t want to philosophize to the point where I whither and shrivel and think myself out of action. Or do anything that makes me un-willing for that matter. Activity is life. I should only contemplate that which is useful for attaining certain ends and nothing else.

Labour not unwillingly, nor without regard to the common interest, nor without due consideration, nor with distraction; nor let studied ornament set off thy thoughts, and be not either a man of many words, or busy about too many things.
~Marcus Aurelius, Meditations Bk. III

I must learn to concentrate my efforts. None of this ADD bullshit. No need for superfluous and aureate interests. Simple tasks, in linear fashion.

Tomorrow I will write out my goals. I will write out my goals and I will stick to them. I will make the decision, and decisions are half the battle. Each decision will come with action, with concentrated will-power. Each goal will contain smaller goals that I will achieve with fluidity and ease. And each of these I accomplish will add fuel to my will-power. I will not wait. I will not hesitate. I will not take my time, for I have none I can afford to lose.

Passion is will-power. Action. Act with furious conviction. Will anger. With an intent to dominate with perfect execution and form. With a daring and bold courage that emanates and swells from within you.