The Solitary One

There are times when I can be in a room full of people, and the only thing I want to do is keep to myself- stay quiet, lie low, and melt into the floorboards and escape between their cracks into soft soil.

Alone is not a physical thing for me- I can be content with just my thoughts and personal space. Solitude is what is truly unpleasant; when I’m no longer able to express myself to anyone.

There are people in my life that mean a great deal to me and I would give up anything for them, but none of them can truly understand the intentions of my thoughts and my reasoning. The ideas which make sense in my head seem to explode into confusion when I try to talk them out. What I imagine to be a coherent thought simply shifts into gibberish. Sometimes it’s like I’m speaking in a completely different language. Yet, that’s usually how it goes with thoughts.

How can you relate to someone if you’re too afraid to tell them what you really mean? How can you connect when what you’re holding back is the poison to your relationship?

The remedy which I seek for solitude does not exist. Like the fountain of youth, it is only passed on as a rumor by morning talk show hosts, lifestyle magazines, and hopeful dopes. 

It’s impossible to question life- I am not an expert. No one is. It’s a thing much older than I am and has been around longer than anyone can count (yes, even scientists can’t determine its creation). It seems strange to me that we are given the gift and the curse of other people’s presence. But then again, this strangeness is nothing new. After all, the demons we believe come with isolation are only the pets of our imagination.

We come into this machine of life alone, and the same way we shall exit. 

I Am Refusing This Assignment of “This Means Something”

Above this writing, is a blank space. An irksome void. 

The way people cling to find meaning is like the way they try to fill this space. Doodling. Writing lyrics. Pasting a picture. Whatever they wish.  

All this really is, is an empty space. It is nothing more than that.

This space holds no meaning. It is not a place to store dreams. It is not an inspiration for success. It is not a sad promise of failure. It is what it is- a blank space on a blog entry of some girl in a high school philosophy class.

There is no such thing as some thing that I know means something. There never has been. People can over complicate life as much as they want to and run laps around the idea of trying, but they do so only because accepting the lack of organization and purpose of life is too simple of an idea for them to burden. 

Class Direction

Being that each student signed up for this class, I assume that everyone wants to learn and explore the ideas of philosophy. When applying my philosophy on how the class should be directed, I think that there really doesn't need to be a specific way of teaching the class.

Ideas are meant to bounce around the room, opinions are meant to be vocalized, and frustration can be guranteed for some, if not, most students. With 30 different individuals running the class, it is near impossible to not have conflicitng points of view. It is true, that certain students will talk at the highest volume possible before the conversations turns into shouting, but that's a good thing- it means that students are listening (or pretending to listen) to each other and using their brains. Philosophy has everything to do with the brain, so this class is a good check up that makes sure we use it from time to time.

Yes, I and many others can get upset or perplexed with certain topics, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't dive deeper and find the real meaning behind them. It was from our class discussions that I learned to think beyond what I know, and to explore the unknown terrains of life. Personally, these class discussions fascinate me. It's a time where I can trully inspect the differences of people and enrich my understanding of foreign opinions.

 After discussing a compilation of the varying themes of life, I discovered that the only reason we have not shown up to class dressed as our favorite philosophers and shouting at the top of our lungs the views they portrayed, is because CPS has regulations and teachers have mouths to feed (this idea seems pretty fascinating, maybe we can call it "Philosopher Showdown" or something cheesy like that. Actually, we should do this. I'd love to see kids show up to class in togas and Renaissance-like attire, yelling from beneath graying beards and thick, handlebar mustaches.)

Though the class can be disruptive to Mr. McCarthy's lesson plan, and we also can get a bit rowdy with our adolescent habbits, I think the little quirks of the class are only natural and aide us in building knowledge and understanding.

Who Will Win the Election: A "Multiple" Party System

Voltaire and Camus, both great thinkers, would not vote for the standard democrat/republican. These men see beyond the stereotypical candidates and are drawn to ideas not many men wish to dwell upon.

Voltaire, a man of double entendres, risked his life to point out the flaws of society. He would not vote for a Mitt Romney, as his views on the government are extreme and he wants consistency and strength in a leader- not some indecisive wimp. He would not vote for a democrat either, as democracy seems as close to socialism more than any other party. Voltaire, would most likely sleep in on the election day, tend to his "garden", and read The Onion (a popular satirical newspaper.) He would get many a good chuckle out of their articles.

Camus was an absurdist, and believed that humans exist in a meaningless and irrational world. Whoever he voted for would not really matter, as life has no meaning. If given the choice not to vote, he would sleep in and enjoy a pack of cigarettes. If forced to vote on a candidate, he would close his eyes, hum Eenie-Meenie-Minie-Mo and vote for whoever his finger landed on on the ballot.  He would find no pleasure in doing so, coolly step out of the voting booth, and take a long walk in nature with his environmentally unfriendly cigarettes. Ron Paul and his libertarian views would suit Camus the most, but Camus wouldn't care enough to look into political party views.

The Meaning of Life

All of the things which occur inside of my head are meaningful. My opinions, ideas, creations, and discoveries-all which my brain encodes and stores within- create purpose in my life. Discovering new information, questioning the ideas around me, and forming conclusions provides and incentive for me to move on, to take life day by day, and to mature to my best potential.

The opinions of others,  although  meaningful to most people and an important influence in life, do not necessarily matter. They only impact the person who is willing to believe that they do. Life is not meant to be lived by the standards of others- ideally you are the only one who can create a standard or achieve the perfection you desire in life.

I can not tell you the purpose behind living- I can only share what keeps me going. You can answer this question as vaguely or in as much detail as you please, but the size of the view for this matter doesn't change anything.

We each have a different purpose, a different pursuit, and a unique destination. The things which we encounter along the way can only be deemed important by us. We give ourselves importance. We give meaning to an action or object. We manifest our own meaning to life.

Candide and his Crime

The only fair in life I know is the bus fare.

Every experience which Candide has lived through can only be blamed on his own doings-he has had so many chances to prove himself a worthy thinker, and yet, he chose his ignorance over decent analytical skills. If punishing him for his lack of intelligence is what “the universe” or some other entity has dished out, then he deserves it. He may never understand why, but if he ever does, then he may be less dimwitted than I thought him to be.

It really does suck to not get away with something, to almost squeeze by with luck. Things do happen for a reason, and like a chain of events, our past catches up with us and snowballs into whatever we are meant to face in the future. You can get lucky only so many times, but once luck runs out, then all which is left are the outlines of our actions.

Eventually, we pay for our mistakes in some form or another. Physical punishment is just the same as mental punishment, if not, an easier sentence. 

Where was his conscious throughout the craziness of his life? 

Questioning the Question of How We Know What We Know

To be fair and honest, I don’t quite know how we know what we know. We seem to think so highly of ourselves because of our heightened awareness, yet even the largest universe or the smallest atom have the questionable power to make us doubt the rules of knowledge. 

A scientist will argue with microscopes and telescopes; a teacher with sources and documents; a theologian with principles and faith- but how much of what we collectively know takes part in how much I, the individual, know?

 Why must we give our senses the credit of knowledge? The brain is really what handles the dirty work of human functioning.What my brain signals to me as the almighty truth is nothing more than connections made by neurotransmitters. These little “messengers” tell all of my other senses what to do and how to do it, with death being the answer to their pestering whys.

 Knowledge is not matter- you can’t touch it. Nor is it an emotion- you can’t feel it. Knowledge is a scrapbook of answers, which will never be connected, no matter how hard we glue the pages together.

I question everything and how well I really know these points in my life. The more I try to rationalize with myself   and simply state to my brain, “This must be true because I had a firsthand account or was told of one”, the more I wonder how real these sensations are.

I like to think that there is nothing more to life than just what I can connect in my head, but somehow, I can’t. The possibilities of what I don’t know are infinite.

Knowledge is tempting and fairly easy to acquire, but understanding myself and how life's points are linked, is one grain of knowledge truly worth searching for

I thought this was funny. Really wanted to post this up

The Value of the Unexamined Life/ The Modern Day Gadfly

I disagree with the statement Socrates made that, "the unexamined life is not worth living." 

To examine life is a curse we chose upon ourselves. We are followed by the mocking shadows of our consciousness, the streams of our thoughts, and the awareness of ourselves and our surroundings. Examination goes beyond the instinct of self preservation and extends into the realms of trivial aspects of our lives. The core principle of our being is to survive another day, live to see the break of daylight, avoid death; however you choose to phrase it. Once you push aside the policies and ways of life we invented for ourselves, humanity comes down to animalistic behaviors. The only things we must do-things which preserve humanity-are the same things which any other organism does.

We never realize how burdened we are by examination. Too much or too little of a dose is lethal- if you do it incorrectly, then the outcome and effects can be damaging upon life itself. Examination is constantly stressed as growth- but why is not light shone upon the ways in which it deteriorates the human psyche?  

People have traumatic experiences and push those memories away as a means of self preservation. Reflection has been advertised as cleansing, but it also has a way of tending to the strongly rooted weeds of difficulties and struggles. Will my life be more complete if I reflect upon haunting experiences, even if they cripple my sense of security and trust? Will questioning the random paths of life and the preselected circumstances I am born into give me peace of mind?

Society pressures us to think beyond our instincts and beyond what we know to be absolute. Selfishness is what has kept the human race in existence for so many years. We are but another species inhabiting the Earth, and once the time comes when we enter into the realm of extinction, then what can we say about examination and its contribution to our existence? Life of other sorts goes on with or without us- nature is not hindered by our inability to continue our race. 

To me, an example of a modern day Gadfly would be Stephen Colbert. I've watched many of his episodes and noted that he relies on his intuition to ask the questions we all want to ask-the ones which extend beyond the line of "thinking" and "doing." He is very perceptive of present issues and knows how to stimulate the viewers minds. He knows how to control any interview, and enjoys doing so. Even through his humorous news updates, sketches, and segments, he always gives a clue away as to what issue he is trying to point out.   

Eulogy

Hello everyone, and welcome.

We are all gathered here today to remeber and honor the memory of Justyna. She was a beloved daughter, sister, and friend to us all.

Justyna was a remarkable young woman blessed with talents and intuition. She was a terrific piano player as well as a singer. I remember her musical discovery at the age of 8 when she decided to learn to play the piano because her best friend did. A year later, she told her father and me that she wanted to also sign up at her music school to learn to play the violin. From then on, she continued her musical journey and signed up for choir both at her elementary and high school.  My husband was truly proud of her and in awe at her musical pursuit and curiosity, as the musical genes run in his family and not in mine.

My daughter Justyna was also a closet writer. She could not be labeled as a poet, journalist, novelist, or lyricist, as all of those categories equally described her. After she passed away, I found her journals and random scraps of paper stashed away behind a shelf of books in her room. When I found then, I reminded myself of the few times she showed me her written pieces. With my sons I was unable to connect with them on an expressive level, but with her, my poetry writing found a willing ear that always listened and helped me to unfold the context within my poems.

She was a great listener and the peace maker whenever a conflict arose. Having an older and younger brother meant that she was always stuck in the middle of their teenage angst and coming of age phases. From them, she learned quickly and became a mediator for friends and family conflicts. She was also a very silly and happy girl. Her jokes might have caused my jaw to drop a few times, but I always reminded myself of the kind heart she possessed. She was planning on going to the Peace Corp. after college. I wish I could have told her how proud of her I was for making such an important decision in life and for willingly helping others in need.

Justyna was also academically gifted. She was reading before all of her classmates and always expressed curiosity in school. Multiple times, her teachers recommended that she skip a grade and advance herself academically. I was always scared that she would not fit in with the kids older than her and that I would have one less year with my daughter before going off to college. She was only a year away from graduating high school before her tragic accident took away a beautiful life.

She will always remain with us in our hearts, spirits and minds. We will always remember the beautiful person that my daughter Justyna was. Thank you.