Hello and Greetings from the Upstate! I like this whole out of state thing: I really wanna just wank off like some traveling radio show telling everyone how their little slice of the world is THE best slice of the world. And I can, cause it raised me. Nice. In all reality though it's really hit home (no pun intended) that "getting out" should be balanced with remembering where one comes from, the area that you needed to get away from in the first place.
I mean, so far I have had the quintessential vacation. If I want to reminisce, I can actaully go to the place where the it was first formed. I got to watch a Giants game with an old high school contemporary (it was fun Karin, maybe we'll get our season tickets by the time we're 40 -- and when we do, I'll see ya at every one). Got to kick it with the holmes (I don't think we could have had enough tequila to make the Albany drinking scene less disabled than it was), hung out fashionably with the rents (Apologies, but I had to read parents and fashionable in the same sentence; it had been so long that I had to make it happen) and just generally remembered why and the fact that my younger years were held together by some pretty kickin things to do. That's not to say that they are on par with today's days and nights (I mean, we can now consume intoxcating things, enough said), but considering the vast amounts of nothing I knew about myself and my world during my upbringing things were so bad. Like drinking a bottle of whisky between 2 people in an hour before mayday -- Jesus christ, I remember nothing but Tom, myself, and the shaggin' wagon waking up scattered about the track at RPI: 7 miles and four hours from where we started.
I could go on, but I am currently in the middle of a little experiment: can I make the place where I grew up fun in the current time? I'm optimistic, and I promise to keep you current of anything truly noteworthy. Happy holidays everyone, I'll be home on the 29th and in the meanwhile, don't do anything that I wouldn't do.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
For every tail there's a head in the dark
And for every thought there are a million ways to say it incorrectly. A note on writers block, it does make for some interesting thinking. I mean, what better act of imagination than trying to pull something out the air and into the world? Your mind can effortlessly drift around countless ideas, from the mundane thoughts on the day to the daunting task of trying to qualify that je ne sais quoi and present it to the world. I mean, it's only something too deep for words.
Too deep for words. It has occured to me the fundamental problem of language is that we artificially created it in order to do things accomplished, not say what we mean. When one thinks of a purple elephant (pause, pause, pause) I think I can say that you did not think of the words 'paisly elephant' -- you imagined an oddly patterned pachaderm. Now try to think of happy. Try again. It's hard to picture hmmm? Perhaps some memories which made you happy popped into your head. Could have been someone with a smile on their face. Either way, I'm pretty sure you couldn't get a picture of "Happy".
Yet "Happy" along with other terms of feeling get bandied about on TV like they are going out of style. And I make the call to everyone that perhaps we should take a moment to consider something before doing it again. As I mentioned before, language is by its nature descriptive; I would argue that it can only describle things we can see: it breaks down unuseably when attempting things that I call 'Inner senses'. Inner senses are completely opaque to all but oneself, yet these are the things that we so badly need to communicate.
We do have a method, and that is why we have the arts. Being a believable actor, a talented musician, a gifted painter: all of these in a lay sense entail being able to convey feeling to others: taking a slice of that ineffable now and describing it perfectly. All with the same language, all with the same words. Yet this ability is often lost in medias res: your letter is received not as an apology but a cheap dig, your clever comment is misinterpreterd (ever have the "oh now I get it" moment after a conversation) and so on.
So in the end, I envision a spectrum of language. The spectrum is based on symbolism and ranges from cut, dry and defined (philosophy, academic writing) to highly figurative (poetry, lyrics) with a huge grey area in the middle. On this view, the trouble with communication between say, lovers or friends, arises when they are assuming different areas in the field. Said otherwise, aside from the connnotated facets of word meaning (how one speaks), a line like "Don't fall through the stars" can either be a non sequitor, or perhaps a brilliant lyrical line (go Mike Doughty!). It can be either, but not both, at least not until retrospect.
This is a tough case to hash out because most people have no care to say what they mean: the typical descriptive (object dependant) way of communique is fine. But try it sometime. Use words in obscure meanings, a new way, make it fit the inner senses. Understand the linguistic power of "I look to like if looking liking move," really think about it. I've recently come to understand the power of an errant word (just happened one day while watching the snowfall with a wicked hangover). I mean, ladies, would you prefer "hey, I like you" or would you prefer "I closed my eyes, and the thought of you made the troubles of my day just fall away" (or maybe both, or neither, and only if the situation warranted of course: I would never recommend just kinda throwing that around to everyone). Although it's kinda hand-wavey, I really want to bring to light the notion of the importance of cutivating the care of our language that it deserves. Our langauge is enourmous: estimates put it between 500,000 in the Oxford English Dictionary (1,000,000 including scientific words), and the typical college graduate's vocabulary is about 60,000 active words: we have the capacity, lets use it.
P.S. Since Tiki Barber is the man (I can't stress this enough) I'm gonna passs the keyboard off to Michael Eisen: Barber, the first Giants running back with multiple Pro Bowl appearances since Rodney Hampton in 1992 and '93, is having an extraordinary season. His team-record 220-yard outing last week against Kansas City increased his season total to 1,577 yards, another franchise standard that he can add to in the season's final two games. It was his fifth consecutive 100-yard game, another record. Barber is second in the NFL in rushing yards. He also has 421 receiving yards, which gives him 1,998 yards from scrimmage, 258 yards more than runner-up Shaun Alexander of Seattle. Barber needs 99 yards to break the Giants single-season record he set last year and he is on the verge of being the first player to lead the NFL in yards from scrimmage in back-to-back seasons since the Chiefs' Priest Holmes in 2001 and '02. This year, Barber has twice been selected as NFC Offensive Player of the Week, including this week. Damn right.
Too deep for words. It has occured to me the fundamental problem of language is that we artificially created it in order to do things accomplished, not say what we mean. When one thinks of a purple elephant (pause, pause, pause) I think I can say that you did not think of the words 'paisly elephant' -- you imagined an oddly patterned pachaderm. Now try to think of happy. Try again. It's hard to picture hmmm? Perhaps some memories which made you happy popped into your head. Could have been someone with a smile on their face. Either way, I'm pretty sure you couldn't get a picture of "Happy".
Yet "Happy" along with other terms of feeling get bandied about on TV like they are going out of style. And I make the call to everyone that perhaps we should take a moment to consider something before doing it again. As I mentioned before, language is by its nature descriptive; I would argue that it can only describle things we can see: it breaks down unuseably when attempting things that I call 'Inner senses'. Inner senses are completely opaque to all but oneself, yet these are the things that we so badly need to communicate.
We do have a method, and that is why we have the arts. Being a believable actor, a talented musician, a gifted painter: all of these in a lay sense entail being able to convey feeling to others: taking a slice of that ineffable now and describing it perfectly. All with the same language, all with the same words. Yet this ability is often lost in medias res: your letter is received not as an apology but a cheap dig, your clever comment is misinterpreterd (ever have the "oh now I get it" moment after a conversation) and so on.
So in the end, I envision a spectrum of language. The spectrum is based on symbolism and ranges from cut, dry and defined (philosophy, academic writing) to highly figurative (poetry, lyrics) with a huge grey area in the middle. On this view, the trouble with communication between say, lovers or friends, arises when they are assuming different areas in the field. Said otherwise, aside from the connnotated facets of word meaning (how one speaks), a line like "Don't fall through the stars" can either be a non sequitor, or perhaps a brilliant lyrical line (go Mike Doughty!). It can be either, but not both, at least not until retrospect.
This is a tough case to hash out because most people have no care to say what they mean: the typical descriptive (object dependant) way of communique is fine. But try it sometime. Use words in obscure meanings, a new way, make it fit the inner senses. Understand the linguistic power of "I look to like if looking liking move," really think about it. I've recently come to understand the power of an errant word (just happened one day while watching the snowfall with a wicked hangover). I mean, ladies, would you prefer "hey, I like you" or would you prefer "I closed my eyes, and the thought of you made the troubles of my day just fall away" (or maybe both, or neither, and only if the situation warranted of course: I would never recommend just kinda throwing that around to everyone). Although it's kinda hand-wavey, I really want to bring to light the notion of the importance of cutivating the care of our language that it deserves. Our langauge is enourmous: estimates put it between 500,000 in the Oxford English Dictionary (1,000,000 including scientific words), and the typical college graduate's vocabulary is about 60,000 active words: we have the capacity, lets use it.
P.S. Since Tiki Barber is the man (I can't stress this enough) I'm gonna passs the keyboard off to Michael Eisen: Barber, the first Giants running back with multiple Pro Bowl appearances since Rodney Hampton in 1992 and '93, is having an extraordinary season. His team-record 220-yard outing last week against Kansas City increased his season total to 1,577 yards, another franchise standard that he can add to in the season's final two games. It was his fifth consecutive 100-yard game, another record. Barber is second in the NFL in rushing yards. He also has 421 receiving yards, which gives him 1,998 yards from scrimmage, 258 yards more than runner-up Shaun Alexander of Seattle. Barber needs 99 yards to break the Giants single-season record he set last year and he is on the verge of being the first player to lead the NFL in yards from scrimmage in back-to-back seasons since the Chiefs' Priest Holmes in 2001 and '02. This year, Barber has twice been selected as NFC Offensive Player of the Week, including this week. Damn right.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Ever longer wavelengths...
It's times like these that I rue our evolutionary design. For example, as Clvin and Hobbes so nicely put it, we really got the short end of the stick ("No 2-inch fangs, no opposable toes, no prehensile tail...), especially when it coes to winter.
I mean damn, all I want to do is hiberate. Although that wouldn't be too bad a deal right? All you gotta do is eat about 100,000 calories to fatten up, find a nice little cave for a few months and wake up nice and fit in the spring. Perfect, now why is it instead I get to curse the winter all the way through, in all of its below 0 glory? Beacuse I am just sure that there is some cosmic broker, kinda like a sports agent for new species, bartering for various traits in exchange for others. The mudskipper, for example, has both lung and gills, and moves from place to place by flopping around. Lyrebirds disguise themselves by mimiking the sounds of the forest -- in cluding chainswas and camera. We have rationality (a beta version if you ask me), and we traded it for all the nifty little add-ons that mark other animals: no gills, no hibernation, useless young. I wonder sometimes if we should have fired the cosmic agent and see if we can't renegotiate.
All kidding aside, I can't help but notice the notion of trade-offs. Just as humans 'traded' the ability to be sentient for god knows what (I know we gave up a tail and opposable toes), there appears to be a trade off among humans as well. Take a look at your friends, your aquaintances, your coworkers, whatever. Now exclude all of the useless people: those sad, miserable middle managers and pessimism mongers: what they traded for I have no idea. Now look who is left. Each of the friends you have you have because of things that they inspire in you and things that you are inspired to do together. You like them for the things they know and the content of their character and perhaps even that ineffable something that happends when you two are together (I call this the best case scenario: in real life I've found friends are found more over a bottle or under a joint, or in between the lines on the mirror, my quality to them as a wingman or who they know, but that's too depressing and outside the scope of what I want to say). These are the folks who complete you, who fill in the trade-offs that you have made qua your own life.
Before you go screaming about that there is abuse of the word friend going on here, take a close look. Chances are, except for perhaps an all purpoe buddy that is your equal in every way, you have different friends that are good at different things: some friends you can go to the gym with, only a couple you would like to go into battle with at the bar (another criteria but same priciple), still others you might not have wanted you other friends to meet. I know I've got some friends that I wouldn't have a personal conversation with to save my life: they have traded the ability to be a confidant for something else, some folks even naturally make us feel better about ourselves due to their inability (most of the time they have traded things like social skills and charisma for one ludicrous dream, but that's fun too)
Now after that murky little paragraph, what am I actually trying to say? You'll have to give me a little latitude, any talents I may have with strings of words leaves me at an incredble clip; but I'm saying a few different things. (1) Our little human minds only have so much we can take on (thus, sorry folks, unless you got some sweet genes between the parents, you may have a chance at being that gifted writer, OR a musician who can make a living, OR be an elite athlete but never more than 1). We just aren't good enough at concept aquisition and application. Thus the old adage may be true that we can be anything we want to be, but we gotta choose, NOW. (2) Whether we know it or not, our friends complete who we are: ideally each one carries a character trait or ability at which they exceed our own abilities and conversely, they also carry traits that are less developed as us: they way we need them they need us as well. (3) It is only in this way that we can overcome the little problem of evolution that I brough up earlier.
So where do friends factor into this weird little equation? What is the connection between friends and the trade-off? Well, just because we aren't talented in something doesn't mean that we don't still immensly enjoy it. That's why nerds watch football, groupies exist, and people can and do find a nicely developed mind appealing. So, am I gonna go hang out with Tiki Barber (my hero, and if you don't know, now you know: you've been warned) to chat football? Nah, too much security. But what I can do is find a couple friends. Between us we will all do multiple things: complain about the officiating, consume beer, make biting commments about John Madden and Al Michaels and $&*%%#$(_&^$ (some things are too sacred to be spoken of outside of NFL, especially NY Giants, hours). We will all participate, and while one friend may not be the thickest book in the library, another may not have the years of building anomosity toward color commentary and so on: sum total we have all that we need in the level that we need it.
The conclusions we can draw from just these three claims can range from self-help to sociological with side trips into social psychology and economics (yes, economics), but I will try to let practical wit reign here. Basically, we cannot feel bad about our failings, assuming we are trying: we just aren't capable enough to be the best at all that we are interested in: such is the human condition. But what we do have is friends, which let us glimpse a bit of how we want to be, and remind us of some of the things we are thankful we are not, and you know you have found a friend when you can say that you have found someone who all at once: inspires you, frustrates you, confuses you and clarifies you (the list could go on forever, think about opposing pardigm existing at once). Basically, when you've got good people we need not fire our evolutionary agent: he may not negotiate well, but he/she's got a pretty good eye for talent nonetheless.
Note: Why the friend kick? Well, it's what the holidays do to me I can't help it. Thanks guys, you know who you are and I really appreciate it. Hello again to the old CCHS chums recently refound (thanks MySpace), I'm coming home on the 23rd, we gotta go out for some drinks and general hell raising. Why the Giants theme? WELL, THE GIANTS ARE F^*($&^ 10-4! Besides, Tiki is my hero, and as of this post the NFL's leading rusher. Why the evolution kick? Well, it gets very easy, especially in the winter, to think of everything we DON'T rather than all the neat stuff that we DO. Time to even the score.
I mean damn, all I want to do is hiberate. Although that wouldn't be too bad a deal right? All you gotta do is eat about 100,000 calories to fatten up, find a nice little cave for a few months and wake up nice and fit in the spring. Perfect, now why is it instead I get to curse the winter all the way through, in all of its below 0 glory? Beacuse I am just sure that there is some cosmic broker, kinda like a sports agent for new species, bartering for various traits in exchange for others. The mudskipper, for example, has both lung and gills, and moves from place to place by flopping around. Lyrebirds disguise themselves by mimiking the sounds of the forest -- in cluding chainswas and camera. We have rationality (a beta version if you ask me), and we traded it for all the nifty little add-ons that mark other animals: no gills, no hibernation, useless young. I wonder sometimes if we should have fired the cosmic agent and see if we can't renegotiate.
All kidding aside, I can't help but notice the notion of trade-offs. Just as humans 'traded' the ability to be sentient for god knows what (I know we gave up a tail and opposable toes), there appears to be a trade off among humans as well. Take a look at your friends, your aquaintances, your coworkers, whatever. Now exclude all of the useless people: those sad, miserable middle managers and pessimism mongers: what they traded for I have no idea. Now look who is left. Each of the friends you have you have because of things that they inspire in you and things that you are inspired to do together. You like them for the things they know and the content of their character and perhaps even that ineffable something that happends when you two are together (I call this the best case scenario: in real life I've found friends are found more over a bottle or under a joint, or in between the lines on the mirror, my quality to them as a wingman or who they know, but that's too depressing and outside the scope of what I want to say). These are the folks who complete you, who fill in the trade-offs that you have made qua your own life.
Before you go screaming about that there is abuse of the word friend going on here, take a close look. Chances are, except for perhaps an all purpoe buddy that is your equal in every way, you have different friends that are good at different things: some friends you can go to the gym with, only a couple you would like to go into battle with at the bar (another criteria but same priciple), still others you might not have wanted you other friends to meet. I know I've got some friends that I wouldn't have a personal conversation with to save my life: they have traded the ability to be a confidant for something else, some folks even naturally make us feel better about ourselves due to their inability (most of the time they have traded things like social skills and charisma for one ludicrous dream, but that's fun too)
Now after that murky little paragraph, what am I actually trying to say? You'll have to give me a little latitude, any talents I may have with strings of words leaves me at an incredble clip; but I'm saying a few different things. (1) Our little human minds only have so much we can take on (thus, sorry folks, unless you got some sweet genes between the parents, you may have a chance at being that gifted writer, OR a musician who can make a living, OR be an elite athlete but never more than 1). We just aren't good enough at concept aquisition and application. Thus the old adage may be true that we can be anything we want to be, but we gotta choose, NOW. (2) Whether we know it or not, our friends complete who we are: ideally each one carries a character trait or ability at which they exceed our own abilities and conversely, they also carry traits that are less developed as us: they way we need them they need us as well. (3) It is only in this way that we can overcome the little problem of evolution that I brough up earlier.
So where do friends factor into this weird little equation? What is the connection between friends and the trade-off? Well, just because we aren't talented in something doesn't mean that we don't still immensly enjoy it. That's why nerds watch football, groupies exist, and people can and do find a nicely developed mind appealing. So, am I gonna go hang out with Tiki Barber (my hero, and if you don't know, now you know: you've been warned) to chat football? Nah, too much security. But what I can do is find a couple friends. Between us we will all do multiple things: complain about the officiating, consume beer, make biting commments about John Madden and Al Michaels and $&*%%#$(_&^$ (some things are too sacred to be spoken of outside of NFL, especially NY Giants, hours). We will all participate, and while one friend may not be the thickest book in the library, another may not have the years of building anomosity toward color commentary and so on: sum total we have all that we need in the level that we need it.
The conclusions we can draw from just these three claims can range from self-help to sociological with side trips into social psychology and economics (yes, economics), but I will try to let practical wit reign here. Basically, we cannot feel bad about our failings, assuming we are trying: we just aren't capable enough to be the best at all that we are interested in: such is the human condition. But what we do have is friends, which let us glimpse a bit of how we want to be, and remind us of some of the things we are thankful we are not, and you know you have found a friend when you can say that you have found someone who all at once: inspires you, frustrates you, confuses you and clarifies you (the list could go on forever, think about opposing pardigm existing at once). Basically, when you've got good people we need not fire our evolutionary agent: he may not negotiate well, but he/she's got a pretty good eye for talent nonetheless.
Note: Why the friend kick? Well, it's what the holidays do to me I can't help it. Thanks guys, you know who you are and I really appreciate it. Hello again to the old CCHS chums recently refound (thanks MySpace), I'm coming home on the 23rd, we gotta go out for some drinks and general hell raising. Why the Giants theme? WELL, THE GIANTS ARE F^*($&^ 10-4! Besides, Tiki is my hero, and as of this post the NFL's leading rusher. Why the evolution kick? Well, it gets very easy, especially in the winter, to think of everything we DON'T rather than all the neat stuff that we DO. Time to even the score.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Yea, So, Ah, Right, And Um...
In place of the normal words which spill forth from my adaquetly useful fingers, I've found that today, nothing really comes out. I even tried thinking, "well, what is this blog? How can I add to it?" But inside and underneath and of the discipline bending that I hoped to do I realized that I have been sorely lacking in one area: the day off.
Behold my friends, the power of the day off. Today I have a list of things to do, and I'd imagine that they will get done, but on my own damn time. There is such a premium on having every moment be so full of meaning and desire and profundity and truth that today, I am going to be the exception that proves the rule. For as it turns out, the definition of a productive day comes in so many different forms (just like intelligence).
For example. Today I have done everything that I would like to do. I've slept in, played some guitar, opened a myspace account, done battle with said myspace account and was forced to retreat, took out some recycling, drank (and am currently drinking) a couple of beers, read a little, shipped off some email. In fact, this post is the most concerted thing I have done all day. I still have to make some phone calls, to friends that I have deliquent in staying in proper touch with, but this is something that I can't wait to do.
The glorious day off is made all the more glorious by the fact that I don't get very many. The freelance philosopher/lifeguard/retail associate/personal trainer as it turns out doesn't get many chanes to unwind; between living very frugally and having an ever changing schedule of things. So when I have 24 while hours to do whatever fuck-all I wish, I get to take it.
In fact, I'm gonna write this whole day off. I just gonna say that this is the time when I take type B to a whole new level. In the search for balance we must probe the extremes in order to find the nuances that still exist in moderation: a new level of description for balance. Today is ungrammatical. Today, I will misuse a semicolon: in fact, I plan to misuse all of the symbols of puctuation for my own dastardly means;
I am always amazed at the difference a {day} off means. It has occured to me, both anectdotally and introspectively, that I am a pretty laid back person. I agree, though what i realized the other day is that this all relative. With my background in learning to relax and just letting go I have managed to find more and more opportunities when I could let another thing go into the water always flowing under the bridge. I won't get into examples, for fear of making someone uptight on my behalf, but suffice to say I do get wound, just differently.
So what does this mean? It means that today, all of you can rest easy, because I am relaxing for you all. If you're feeling stressed today, just think, WWID (this does not include using substances if the situation does not call for it). I question the value of having a shot or with your boss, unless you think you may be on candid porn, in which case a shot might precipitate your ascension to stardom.
As for me? I might take a nap, though I think that I might just be too relaxed to move the 4.5 feet to get there. I might read a book: luckily there is a sweet book of poetry by Symborska staring me in the face. Bonus. I could just topple from my chair, but then I would have to climb back up. Damn* You know, I think I'm going to do none of the above: instead, I'm going to turn on my lava lamp and watch cartoons (Venture Bros. rock!). A bientot tout les persons! Au revoir!
Behold my friends, the power of the day off. Today I have a list of things to do, and I'd imagine that they will get done, but on my own damn time. There is such a premium on having every moment be so full of meaning and desire and profundity and truth that today, I am going to be the exception that proves the rule. For as it turns out, the definition of a productive day comes in so many different forms (just like intelligence).
For example. Today I have done everything that I would like to do. I've slept in, played some guitar, opened a myspace account, done battle with said myspace account and was forced to retreat, took out some recycling, drank (and am currently drinking) a couple of beers, read a little, shipped off some email. In fact, this post is the most concerted thing I have done all day. I still have to make some phone calls, to friends that I have deliquent in staying in proper touch with, but this is something that I can't wait to do.
The glorious day off is made all the more glorious by the fact that I don't get very many. The freelance philosopher/lifeguard/retail associate/personal trainer as it turns out doesn't get many chanes to unwind; between living very frugally and having an ever changing schedule of things. So when I have 24 while hours to do whatever fuck-all I wish, I get to take it.
In fact, I'm gonna write this whole day off. I just gonna say that this is the time when I take type B to a whole new level. In the search for balance we must probe the extremes in order to find the nuances that still exist in moderation: a new level of description for balance. Today is ungrammatical. Today, I will misuse a semicolon: in fact, I plan to misuse all of the symbols of puctuation for my own dastardly means;
I am always amazed at the difference a {day} off means. It has occured to me, both anectdotally and introspectively, that I am a pretty laid back person. I agree, though what i realized the other day is that this all relative. With my background in learning to relax and just letting go I have managed to find more and more opportunities when I could let another thing go into the water always flowing under the bridge. I won't get into examples, for fear of making someone uptight on my behalf, but suffice to say I do get wound, just differently.
So what does this mean? It means that today, all of you can rest easy, because I am relaxing for you all. If you're feeling stressed today, just think, WWID (this does not include using substances if the situation does not call for it). I question the value of having a shot or with your boss, unless you think you may be on candid porn, in which case a shot might precipitate your ascension to stardom.
As for me? I might take a nap, though I think that I might just be too relaxed to move the 4.5 feet to get there. I might read a book: luckily there is a sweet book of poetry by Symborska staring me in the face. Bonus. I could just topple from my chair, but then I would have to climb back up. Damn* You know, I think I'm going to do none of the above: instead, I'm going to turn on my lava lamp and watch cartoons (Venture Bros. rock!). A bientot tout les persons! Au revoir!
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
My day
I just want to cry. I want to cry for the customers who wander in
looking more for a conversation than for a purchase. I want to weep
for for all those who don't realize the amount of love that is
potentially all around them. I choke on all the hateful words that I
have both said and heard in my day.
I want to fight. I want to fight all those who shy away from certain
others in the name of popularity. You want to be cool? Stop caring
what other people think and start caring about yourself and your
ephemeral happiness. Where do you get off thinking that your joy is
tied in any way to a trend or paradigm set by those with budgets
beyond our comprehension and character about as deep as a kiddie pool?
My heart hangs heavy as I realize all the moments I wasted, all the
carnage that I have caused, for it is not intention but action which
creates the consequences. I pounds a little harder when I see the
awful truth that those who have everything will only know how to
appreciate when they lose it, if they ever do.
My fists clench as I contain the urge to knock the teeth out of the
mouths of those who waste their abilities; this includes myself; whomever
find solace ever in repeatition and habit over the brilliance of the
day.
My words I now hone, a sharper and sharper blade with which to cut
through the ambiguity and miscommunication in everday life, to attempt
to be heard amid the din of those with so much to say and so little to
impart.
My observation I focus, for it is in the details where the truth lies.
I can only hope that both my irises may shine a little brighter with
the rightous cause of being. For when it is darkest I cannot help but
see a way out, my others be so inspired as well.
My spirit I hold sacred, for it is the one and only thing that cannot
be taken away. Even through the abuse inflicted comes from both
inside and out, I cannot die, merely swept away, buried under the best
and worst intentions of those who I am fortunate enough to hold dear;
seen not as I am but how others wish, need me to be.
It is for all these reasons that I must carry on, for while others
suffer, I cannot myself be free, for to stand by is to accept. Be
careful, as far as my reach extends, I just might succeed.
looking more for a conversation than for a purchase. I want to weep
for for all those who don't realize the amount of love that is
potentially all around them. I choke on all the hateful words that I
have both said and heard in my day.
I want to fight. I want to fight all those who shy away from certain
others in the name of popularity. You want to be cool? Stop caring
what other people think and start caring about yourself and your
ephemeral happiness. Where do you get off thinking that your joy is
tied in any way to a trend or paradigm set by those with budgets
beyond our comprehension and character about as deep as a kiddie pool?
My heart hangs heavy as I realize all the moments I wasted, all the
carnage that I have caused, for it is not intention but action which
creates the consequences. I pounds a little harder when I see the
awful truth that those who have everything will only know how to
appreciate when they lose it, if they ever do.
My fists clench as I contain the urge to knock the teeth out of the
mouths of those who waste their abilities; this includes myself; whomever
find solace ever in repeatition and habit over the brilliance of the
day.
My words I now hone, a sharper and sharper blade with which to cut
through the ambiguity and miscommunication in everday life, to attempt
to be heard amid the din of those with so much to say and so little to
impart.
My observation I focus, for it is in the details where the truth lies.
I can only hope that both my irises may shine a little brighter with
the rightous cause of being. For when it is darkest I cannot help but
see a way out, my others be so inspired as well.
My spirit I hold sacred, for it is the one and only thing that cannot
be taken away. Even through the abuse inflicted comes from both
inside and out, I cannot die, merely swept away, buried under the best
and worst intentions of those who I am fortunate enough to hold dear;
seen not as I am but how others wish, need me to be.
It is for all these reasons that I must carry on, for while others
suffer, I cannot myself be free, for to stand by is to accept. Be
careful, as far as my reach extends, I just might succeed.
Moving right along
We all wish we could write an opus. That definitive work which will
not only let the world know the particular strand of genius we posses,
but would carry the gravity to let those we hurt know we have
repented, those we love how deeply we do, and recognize the mark that
those important to us have made on our lives. All this in a moving
and perfectly executed piece that will provide Hollywood type closure
and the peace of mind that all wanders seek.
And while our work continues we still suffer. Dragged into the
quagmire that is the human condition, our words fall limply from our
lips, impotently from pen to page, crippled action representing a mere
shadow of what we wish it to. These are the words and deeds which
hinder our lives, which prevent the entirety of our lives from being
that opus which we so desperately seek to create.
But this isn't a blog of pain and suffering, though to a point that is
what life is about. I would prefer to use this anguish, these
lifeless moments in a cold uncaring universe to rally our inner
mettle. For it is only from confusion and pain that inspiration and
clarity spring from. When we think that we cannot, or don't want to
continue, that is exactly the time to dive directly into the heart of
our suffering and clash with our inner demons. For in hiding in
cowardice, be it through drink or drug, or emotional detachment, that
is the stuff of beret wearing high school kids jacked on caffeine
seeking meaning from the new music they have heard that
oh-so-perfectly captures...
You've heard it. Maybe from a bad episode of Degrassi. Perhaps from
an after school special. Notice however that while Hollywood does
drama like it does the happy ending. Both treatments are saccharine,
yet our belief seems based in what we think and are told by media
should be, rather than what we see, know and desire in the remainder
of our lives.
So where is this headed? This is where I diverge from what I have
known, so give me a spot of latitude. I say, embrace your demons.
Thank those that have done you wrong. I don't mean send flowers and a
card, but settle the score. If you've gotten your heart broken, even
over and over, tell them and thank them; by carrying on despite that
pain you walk about a stronger more stable person. Addiction issues?
Congrats, depending on the severity of you are now able to walk this
earth knowing that you understand. Understand what the depths of
emotion are. Understand how amazing a single clean day can be.
Wanting to propose a toast to your self-control, when you begin to
control the demons that have previously run your life.
There's an old saying that we cannot know the light without the
darkness. I believe that to the core of my being, so to all of you
that have made it through unscathed I say, "Sorry". For no one makes
it out without a couple scars, and if you think you have then I would
applaud your powers of rationalization and perception: to wit, you
just haven't been paying attention. I don't mean to propose heading
out to the nearest park dweller named Falco and scoring some junk, but
to clean the skeletons out of the closet you first have to see that
they are there.
So until you become enlightened, try to put an end to unfinished
business. There are two responses to a given situation, fight (deal
with it) or flight (stuff it deep in the psyche), and while the former
will leave you with some marks, the latter will most likely lead to a
crippling mid-life crisis, more than one phobia and a boat load of
therapy bills.
Stop running people, 'cause after awhile it becomes a habit, and the
only thing worse than running is not knowing what you are running
from.
not only let the world know the particular strand of genius we posses,
but would carry the gravity to let those we hurt know we have
repented, those we love how deeply we do, and recognize the mark that
those important to us have made on our lives. All this in a moving
and perfectly executed piece that will provide Hollywood type closure
and the peace of mind that all wanders seek.
And while our work continues we still suffer. Dragged into the
quagmire that is the human condition, our words fall limply from our
lips, impotently from pen to page, crippled action representing a mere
shadow of what we wish it to. These are the words and deeds which
hinder our lives, which prevent the entirety of our lives from being
that opus which we so desperately seek to create.
But this isn't a blog of pain and suffering, though to a point that is
what life is about. I would prefer to use this anguish, these
lifeless moments in a cold uncaring universe to rally our inner
mettle. For it is only from confusion and pain that inspiration and
clarity spring from. When we think that we cannot, or don't want to
continue, that is exactly the time to dive directly into the heart of
our suffering and clash with our inner demons. For in hiding in
cowardice, be it through drink or drug, or emotional detachment, that
is the stuff of beret wearing high school kids jacked on caffeine
seeking meaning from the new music they have heard that
oh-so-perfectly captures...
You've heard it. Maybe from a bad episode of Degrassi. Perhaps from
an after school special. Notice however that while Hollywood does
drama like it does the happy ending. Both treatments are saccharine,
yet our belief seems based in what we think and are told by media
should be, rather than what we see, know and desire in the remainder
of our lives.
So where is this headed? This is where I diverge from what I have
known, so give me a spot of latitude. I say, embrace your demons.
Thank those that have done you wrong. I don't mean send flowers and a
card, but settle the score. If you've gotten your heart broken, even
over and over, tell them and thank them; by carrying on despite that
pain you walk about a stronger more stable person. Addiction issues?
Congrats, depending on the severity of you are now able to walk this
earth knowing that you understand. Understand what the depths of
emotion are. Understand how amazing a single clean day can be.
Wanting to propose a toast to your self-control, when you begin to
control the demons that have previously run your life.
There's an old saying that we cannot know the light without the
darkness. I believe that to the core of my being, so to all of you
that have made it through unscathed I say, "Sorry". For no one makes
it out without a couple scars, and if you think you have then I would
applaud your powers of rationalization and perception: to wit, you
just haven't been paying attention. I don't mean to propose heading
out to the nearest park dweller named Falco and scoring some junk, but
to clean the skeletons out of the closet you first have to see that
they are there.
So until you become enlightened, try to put an end to unfinished
business. There are two responses to a given situation, fight (deal
with it) or flight (stuff it deep in the psyche), and while the former
will leave you with some marks, the latter will most likely lead to a
crippling mid-life crisis, more than one phobia and a boat load of
therapy bills.
Stop running people, 'cause after awhile it becomes a habit, and the
only thing worse than running is not knowing what you are running
from.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Let them have it 'cause they need it
Drama. Without question, this one word has come to mean so much in the social realm, from that thing that so terribly affects young ladiy's and theatre majors to the poorly scripted action dramas that have saturated TV in the past few years. My interest here is no so much how it comes up or ways around it, but I am extremely interested at the function it serves, in both society and our psyche.
I'm beginning to think that drama is a necessarry part of the human condition. As I woke up this morning, I notived that something was differnt. Sure, part of it was the half pound of phlegm (oh the joys of being a quitter), but there was something else, something missing. As my eyes managed to focus, I looked around the room and saw the same sights I always did, wanted the same things (H20 & a shower)...
Actually, I didn't. There was something I woke up missing, and with it the normal panic left also. I'm not sure what this is a function of, though I know what it is about, and to be honest I was not sorry to see it go. What was it I let go you ask? A habit, a habit that has been going on for the last year and a half: a habit that has kept me awake at night and woke me up early in the morning, a thought process that has ruled my actions and dictated my desires, morbitity disguised as healthy thoughts. I'll leave out the details, but those who know me well, if you can't hammer down what it is then give me call, we need to seriously catch up.
So coming from this new, more spacious place I couln't help but think what function this particular habit served in my life (and by comparison the lives of others), and I unearthed some bitter truth. That being the fact that in our little psychoses we manage to lock up all of our insecurities and fears (we all have them, yes, even me). It is in these feelings that we hide our own impending senility, all the things that we are not yet claim to be. Thus my little habit was allowing me to ignore some lesser problems with my self and my place in it in order to carry on. Kinda like drinking some unicorn blood, survival over health: gets the job done, but not well.
Only then was I able to think of the drama of others. The next time someone spreads gossip, slanders another; the next time you think poorly of another person or pick up a 'dramtic habit' try to really take look at the man behind the curtain. Chances are that the problem lies with no one but yourself.
The necessity of drama then, comes with the quest for meaning. We all need something to make our day worth while, and what is worth while becomes no small bit more obscure by feelings and desires. This obscurity is where drama arises from. If we cannot find a satisfying reason to drive our day, then we will make one up. Being a less than clever race and due to the way our brain operates the next natural assumption is to blame the outside world. Typically the most convienent and available outlet. For example, during my illustrious college career I have been linked with many different people in various capacities, and when it comes to the ladies well, we had our interactions. The last couple years however, noticed something strange: I would be linked to people that I never even really conversated with, let alone thought about turning my sights on. Is this a complement? Not the way people bandied it about. So what was actually goin on? Scorned and embittered people spreading rumor because of some grudge that other folks had; perhaps it was a lack of other material to talk about perhaps I had a secret admirer, perhaps I had it coming. Whatever the case, those keeping the rumor mill a-spin got what they wanted, and so long as someone comes out feeling better about themselves I guess there wasn't much harm.
Sounds like a silly conclusion? No way! Let people have their drama. I say enjoy it. If you would really like to create self-fullfilling profesies in which you triumph over other people because you think you have what they don't, fine. If you would like to ignore the fact that the world contains in it an infinitity of possibilities in order to harp upon one thing that someone has done that doesn't go swimmingly with your own ontology, fine. If you would like to let what you say be the deciding factor in your life contra what you do and create, fine. If you would like to believe that you are better than your peers, fine. If you want your immediate addition to the world to be a negative one in which someone must lose in order for you to gain, I say fine.
But I'm out. I'm done with thinking about other people in my decisions. This is not to say I'm being selfish for a little while, but I see now that I have made some poor choices insofar as the people whose welfare I put above mine. For that is where my drama sprang from, so I gotta be the one to get off the coaster. Though I will say this: if you have a problem with other people, other genders, ethnicities, whatever, you've got more serious issues that you need to work out with yourself first.
But enough soapboxing. I think that drama as we defined it is an essential product of our current culture, something to help fill the void between what media tells us and how our lives are really run. It is a crude form of short term therapy, and besides it's what the cool kids do these days. It is a cheap conversation starter among other things, and the perfect way to feel superior even on a very bad day. You know who you are, so keep it up: and don't blame me when you wake up lonely at 50: you're doing good now, and that's all that matters.
I'm beginning to think that drama is a necessarry part of the human condition. As I woke up this morning, I notived that something was differnt. Sure, part of it was the half pound of phlegm (oh the joys of being a quitter), but there was something else, something missing. As my eyes managed to focus, I looked around the room and saw the same sights I always did, wanted the same things (H20 & a shower)...
Actually, I didn't. There was something I woke up missing, and with it the normal panic left also. I'm not sure what this is a function of, though I know what it is about, and to be honest I was not sorry to see it go. What was it I let go you ask? A habit, a habit that has been going on for the last year and a half: a habit that has kept me awake at night and woke me up early in the morning, a thought process that has ruled my actions and dictated my desires, morbitity disguised as healthy thoughts. I'll leave out the details, but those who know me well, if you can't hammer down what it is then give me call, we need to seriously catch up.
So coming from this new, more spacious place I couln't help but think what function this particular habit served in my life (and by comparison the lives of others), and I unearthed some bitter truth. That being the fact that in our little psychoses we manage to lock up all of our insecurities and fears (we all have them, yes, even me). It is in these feelings that we hide our own impending senility, all the things that we are not yet claim to be. Thus my little habit was allowing me to ignore some lesser problems with my self and my place in it in order to carry on. Kinda like drinking some unicorn blood, survival over health: gets the job done, but not well.
Only then was I able to think of the drama of others. The next time someone spreads gossip, slanders another; the next time you think poorly of another person or pick up a 'dramtic habit' try to really take look at the man behind the curtain. Chances are that the problem lies with no one but yourself.
The necessity of drama then, comes with the quest for meaning. We all need something to make our day worth while, and what is worth while becomes no small bit more obscure by feelings and desires. This obscurity is where drama arises from. If we cannot find a satisfying reason to drive our day, then we will make one up. Being a less than clever race and due to the way our brain operates the next natural assumption is to blame the outside world. Typically the most convienent and available outlet. For example, during my illustrious college career I have been linked with many different people in various capacities, and when it comes to the ladies well, we had our interactions. The last couple years however, noticed something strange: I would be linked to people that I never even really conversated with, let alone thought about turning my sights on. Is this a complement? Not the way people bandied it about. So what was actually goin on? Scorned and embittered people spreading rumor because of some grudge that other folks had; perhaps it was a lack of other material to talk about perhaps I had a secret admirer, perhaps I had it coming. Whatever the case, those keeping the rumor mill a-spin got what they wanted, and so long as someone comes out feeling better about themselves I guess there wasn't much harm.
Sounds like a silly conclusion? No way! Let people have their drama. I say enjoy it. If you would really like to create self-fullfilling profesies in which you triumph over other people because you think you have what they don't, fine. If you would like to ignore the fact that the world contains in it an infinitity of possibilities in order to harp upon one thing that someone has done that doesn't go swimmingly with your own ontology, fine. If you would like to let what you say be the deciding factor in your life contra what you do and create, fine. If you would like to believe that you are better than your peers, fine. If you want your immediate addition to the world to be a negative one in which someone must lose in order for you to gain, I say fine.
But I'm out. I'm done with thinking about other people in my decisions. This is not to say I'm being selfish for a little while, but I see now that I have made some poor choices insofar as the people whose welfare I put above mine. For that is where my drama sprang from, so I gotta be the one to get off the coaster. Though I will say this: if you have a problem with other people, other genders, ethnicities, whatever, you've got more serious issues that you need to work out with yourself first.
But enough soapboxing. I think that drama as we defined it is an essential product of our current culture, something to help fill the void between what media tells us and how our lives are really run. It is a crude form of short term therapy, and besides it's what the cool kids do these days. It is a cheap conversation starter among other things, and the perfect way to feel superior even on a very bad day. You know who you are, so keep it up: and don't blame me when you wake up lonely at 50: you're doing good now, and that's all that matters.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Ahhhhh...
Hello, my notorious philistine friends from around the world and the web! For all those that didn't look elsewhere for their blogging fix, I applaud you. For those that left, well I can only hope you come crawling back soon.
Enough about the past, though. I currently have brought myself to be concerned by things that we know to be true, and the things that we learn to know. I don't speak here of book knowledge, bravo to all the folks who love book learning. The type of learning I've been thinking about is more of a trait learning, especially learning those traits that we disbelieve.
I'll use an example to illustrate my point. The other day I was sitting with a firend of mine for tequila and a bite to eat (One without the other is just a shame, a shell and exemplar of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts) and we were discussing realtionships, especially attraction. I was asked a question about who we find attractive and what we can do about it, an without hesitating my response was "We choose who we are attractive to, end of story." This was actually pretty surprising to the both of us, especially my companion, who I'm sure was expecting quite a bit more; honestly I was expecting a bit more.
But that's what it was that's how it is and it summs it up perfectly. I haven't always thought that way. In fact, to be honest I railed against that idea for a very, very long time, but in the end I came around. Not because I wanted to mind you, but because I was forced to, in order to get on with life.
I'm assuming here that our natural inclinations are the primary factors in contentment. The things we did as children, the loves that we've found along the way be they australian rules football, long walks on the beach or a flaming marshmallow: those activities that leave us inspired immediately. Even some of the things we have learned to love, like beer, asparagus and public speaking, I would argue are natural inclinations that have been recently opened to us. I would also call this individual complete, for the things that they aren't engaged in just don't matter for awhile.
We are trained however, to hold more important things dear. I've called this domestication, and here I will call it just plain wrong. Wrong because I will fight anyone who says that an evening in good company is not more valuable than overtime at the office. Wrong because no one can tell me that seeing the foliage isn't superior to watching tv, wrong because in the end we are taught to think that there is fault in the world around us.
Who's idea was it to teach unhappiness? Where in the book of life do we get off being suspicious, or having to scrupulously examine every detail of our decisions until they are nothing more than a cost/benefit analysis? Why did I have to learn to look for features of people, rather than the time I have around them (I say this on behalf of all those who agree with me)?
These are the items I worry about, the beliefs we disbelieve. All of the items what we just can't put down, like worry, like oversimplification, like overcomplexity. All of the instances in which we are taught not to believe our own instincts, to learn the "right" way to think about things. Forget that I say. There are some very basic and known ways in which our minds go wrong, and all people should know and understand what they are. Other than that, our decisions should be guided only by our own notions of what is correct and not.
Rant over. Just be aware of what you are forced to hold by the beliefs that you have. For example, in my little tequila answer I realized that by not trusting my instincts in the matters of love and affection, even in something as trivial as a quick answer, I realized i was also forced to believe other things about myself and the world that I don't really espose either.
Which leaves just a quote: "When it somes to actions and others there is nothing more than meets the eye, but when it comes to ourselves it is everything but that."
Enough about the past, though. I currently have brought myself to be concerned by things that we know to be true, and the things that we learn to know. I don't speak here of book knowledge, bravo to all the folks who love book learning. The type of learning I've been thinking about is more of a trait learning, especially learning those traits that we disbelieve.
I'll use an example to illustrate my point. The other day I was sitting with a firend of mine for tequila and a bite to eat (One without the other is just a shame, a shell and exemplar of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts) and we were discussing realtionships, especially attraction. I was asked a question about who we find attractive and what we can do about it, an without hesitating my response was "We choose who we are attractive to, end of story." This was actually pretty surprising to the both of us, especially my companion, who I'm sure was expecting quite a bit more; honestly I was expecting a bit more.
But that's what it was that's how it is and it summs it up perfectly. I haven't always thought that way. In fact, to be honest I railed against that idea for a very, very long time, but in the end I came around. Not because I wanted to mind you, but because I was forced to, in order to get on with life.
I'm assuming here that our natural inclinations are the primary factors in contentment. The things we did as children, the loves that we've found along the way be they australian rules football, long walks on the beach or a flaming marshmallow: those activities that leave us inspired immediately. Even some of the things we have learned to love, like beer, asparagus and public speaking, I would argue are natural inclinations that have been recently opened to us. I would also call this individual complete, for the things that they aren't engaged in just don't matter for awhile.
We are trained however, to hold more important things dear. I've called this domestication, and here I will call it just plain wrong. Wrong because I will fight anyone who says that an evening in good company is not more valuable than overtime at the office. Wrong because no one can tell me that seeing the foliage isn't superior to watching tv, wrong because in the end we are taught to think that there is fault in the world around us.
Who's idea was it to teach unhappiness? Where in the book of life do we get off being suspicious, or having to scrupulously examine every detail of our decisions until they are nothing more than a cost/benefit analysis? Why did I have to learn to look for features of people, rather than the time I have around them (I say this on behalf of all those who agree with me)?
These are the items I worry about, the beliefs we disbelieve. All of the items what we just can't put down, like worry, like oversimplification, like overcomplexity. All of the instances in which we are taught not to believe our own instincts, to learn the "right" way to think about things. Forget that I say. There are some very basic and known ways in which our minds go wrong, and all people should know and understand what they are. Other than that, our decisions should be guided only by our own notions of what is correct and not.
Rant over. Just be aware of what you are forced to hold by the beliefs that you have. For example, in my little tequila answer I realized that by not trusting my instincts in the matters of love and affection, even in something as trivial as a quick answer, I realized i was also forced to believe other things about myself and the world that I don't really espose either.
Which leaves just a quote: "When it somes to actions and others there is nothing more than meets the eye, but when it comes to ourselves it is everything but that."
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Delays are the life
Sorry friends, comtemporaries, and all those who spend a cyber minute to read my little brain droppings every now and again. Hello there. The time delay is inevitable it seems. I happen to be one of those folks who, like clockwork, will get into a pretty good funk for a week or so as the season turns from fall to bitter, bitter winter.
So this is a quick hello just to say that life sucks when we are forced to decide between doing what we want and what we "want" to do if we are not able to do both, (good questions that fall under this idea generally involve "how much is your soul worth?"). Mine is worth plently, so I've needed to really settle down in order to realign the two. I should be posting a nice, shiny new post tomorrow, so this is one for us and the insomniacs.
Tonight's line of though will involve my comps topic, The Non-conceptual Content of Experience. The discussion will begin based on the notion that to prevent the pernicious idea that the world might be completely made up we are forced to say that some part of our experience must come from outside ourselves, from the world out there. Trouble is, we do not perceive a rock in our conciousness, we perceive the mental image of a rock, a representation. Now we would like to say that the world just kinda gives us the required non-conceptual (hereafter concrete) content, but what about cases of dream, hallucination, general misperception (think optical illusions) and so on? Are we claiming that the world is giving us nothing? Or that the world is giving us the wrong thing? Since in both right perception and misperception we are still perceiving in a manner of speaking, in the first case of the world and in the second something else (nothing? another world? Something false?) we need to figure out first what is going on when we are actually having an experience of the outside world, and secondly we need to figure out what the 'structure' of non conceptual content is and how it fits in a philosophy of perception.
Said otherwise. If the world is real, it has to give us stuff that is indubitable: the world out there. We cannot trust what we perceive sometimes, so what is different about real experience? In real experience then, what is the world gives us, if anything, that we can use as both an indispensable part of experience and a reliable indiciator that the world we live in and act in at least has some of the features we portend it to have.
Sleepy sleepy now. If I didn't intreque you at all with that, read this poet: Wistawa Szymborska. Trust me, she's the only nobel prize winner I can ever love. Eat your beets, get some exercise, make a snow fort and declare war on the house next door, even if it's bigger than you. People have done more with less.
So this is a quick hello just to say that life sucks when we are forced to decide between doing what we want and what we "want" to do if we are not able to do both, (good questions that fall under this idea generally involve "how much is your soul worth?"). Mine is worth plently, so I've needed to really settle down in order to realign the two. I should be posting a nice, shiny new post tomorrow, so this is one for us and the insomniacs.
Tonight's line of though will involve my comps topic, The Non-conceptual Content of Experience. The discussion will begin based on the notion that to prevent the pernicious idea that the world might be completely made up we are forced to say that some part of our experience must come from outside ourselves, from the world out there. Trouble is, we do not perceive a rock in our conciousness, we perceive the mental image of a rock, a representation. Now we would like to say that the world just kinda gives us the required non-conceptual (hereafter concrete) content, but what about cases of dream, hallucination, general misperception (think optical illusions) and so on? Are we claiming that the world is giving us nothing? Or that the world is giving us the wrong thing? Since in both right perception and misperception we are still perceiving in a manner of speaking, in the first case of the world and in the second something else (nothing? another world? Something false?) we need to figure out first what is going on when we are actually having an experience of the outside world, and secondly we need to figure out what the 'structure' of non conceptual content is and how it fits in a philosophy of perception.
Said otherwise. If the world is real, it has to give us stuff that is indubitable: the world out there. We cannot trust what we perceive sometimes, so what is different about real experience? In real experience then, what is the world gives us, if anything, that we can use as both an indispensable part of experience and a reliable indiciator that the world we live in and act in at least has some of the features we portend it to have.
Sleepy sleepy now. If I didn't intreque you at all with that, read this poet: Wistawa Szymborska. Trust me, she's the only nobel prize winner I can ever love. Eat your beets, get some exercise, make a snow fort and declare war on the house next door, even if it's bigger than you. People have done more with less.
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