My_Friend, Chapstick, & The Death Of Logic

I was contacted today by an old acquaintance that I haven't spoken to in nearly a year. The IM conversation started as you might imagine it to start -- with friendly banter and an update on one another's status. But, after a slight lull in the conversaton, he mentioned his old girlfriend, Z-. Last I heard, he was about to ask her to marry him. They seemed to be a quite happy couple, and I can recall being very happy for them way back when.

But the conversation was about to take on a rather negative turn.

(The name of my friend and his contemporaris have been changed for the sake of anonymity.)

--begin copied text (w/ minor alterations)--
My_Friend: Back in September, our [Z- and his] friend K- went missing
My_Friend: About 3 weeks later, in early October, they found her body
My_Friend: I flew down for the funeral
My_Friend: And then about a week after that, Z- and her friend D- were arrested for doing it
My_Friend: And they're still in jail, awaiting trial
My_Friend: Bail is in the millions somewhere, so it's out of the question
Eric J Herboso: That... sounds like a rather extreme situation.
My_Friend: You have a gift for understatement, lol
Eric J Herboso: They've been awaiting trial since October?
My_Friend: yeah
My_Friend: They've been waiving the speedy trial thing
My_Friend: To give their lawyers more time to prepare, I guess
My_Friend: It looks like her lawyer is going to the DA with a deal sometime this week
My_Friend: With that deal, it'd be 10 years plus 3, 6, or 11 years, served concurrently
Eric J Herboso: Wow.
My_Friend: If it goes to trial, it could be as much as 50 to life
My_Friend: heh, I had the ring picked out and everything
Eric J Herboso: Compared to fifty years, I suppose a deal would be preferable... But it still seems like such a very large chuck of time.
My_Friend: It's a huge chunk of time
My_Friend: We're 20
My_Friend: That's a longass time
Eric J Herboso: I cannot imagine the progression of dealing with this kind of situation from when you first found out to now...
Eric J Herboso: Just the utter intitial shock of it all would... overwhelm me.
My_Friend: Honestly, things haven't changed too much for me on that front
My_Friend: Everyone was so angry with her
My_Friend: And my first thought was "Fuck. How can I help?"
My_Friend: And that's still basically my only thought, it's just frustrating as hell because there's nothing I can do
Eric J Herboso: For you, this has been a part of your reality for months now. I cannot... cannot even imagine...
My_Friend: yeah, it blows
My_Friend: But I refuse to be unhappy
My_Friend: heh, to quote myself...
My_Friend: "I am invincible. I have to be. I choose to be, because I have no choice."
My_Friend: If I'm not, who will be? I have to hold everything together
Eric J Herboso: I suppose... you may be right at that. Still, I just...
Eric J Herboso: ...wow.
My_Friend: It was an accident, though... just to clarify
Eric J Herboso: What happened?
My_Friend: They were playing a prank on her, trying to scare her a bit. D- brought his gun. For some reason, there were bullets in it and the safety was off. It went off in his hand when Z- and K- both had their backs turned to him. K- got hit in the back of the head. The coroner concluded that she was dead before she hit the ground. Z- saw her body twitching and, thinking she was in pain, shot her again to let her go
--end copied text--

I could not believe my eyes. What a situation to be in....

It really made me think, y'know? About how lucky I am to have all that I do. I mean.... I'm attending college at a small Jesuit institution, I have my entire family begging me to visit them during the summer vacation, I am able to enjoy the company of the love of my life nearly every day, I am financially comfortable and am in perfect health....

Sometimes, I get stressed out by the world around me. By the guy that rearranges ketchup bottles every day, and the distance between myself and the one I care about most... By final exams and healthy vegan meal options... By capitalism and war and -- well, pretty much everything, I guess.

But reading My_Friend's account of what happened with him in the past six months really struck home with me. It made me really think about how appreciative I should be to be in the situation that I am in. Where I am is not that bad at all, actually. I'd go so far as to consider myself quite lucky, in fact.

I am reminded of a previous journal entry I wrote once, a long while back.

(The following is copied (with minor aesthetic corrections) from an earlier journal entry retitled "The Chapstick Conspiracy" made on 15OCT02.)

--begin copied text (w/ minor alterations)--

My lips never chap.

I don't mean to say that my lips are superior to others, but I've never experienced chapped lips.

I never really noticed this fact until I started the dating game oh so many years ago... Nearly every girl I've gone out with, you see, is the type that uses makeup only very sparingly, and only then if the occasion is overly formal. That's just always been my preference with women. Anyway, I noticed the fact that even these women used clear 'lipstick' at times, and I remember asking the purpose of applying lipstick that had no color. I was informed that it wasn't lipstick they were using; rather it was chapstick. I was completely ignorant to even the idea of chapstick back then, so I had to actually ask what the purpose of chapstick was.

It was then that I realized that my lips have never ever in all of my entire life ever been chapped.

Could it be, I remember asking myself, whether chapstick might have an agent in it that makes your lips chapped days later, so as to make a person who uses chapstick addicted to life on the stuff? But no, that was ignorance talking. (At least I hope so.) Still, I've never touched chapstick in all this time. I've refused to kiss people that have chapstick on solely for the fear that perhaps coming into contact with the stuff even once will cause me to purchase chapstick for the rest of my life.

I am a crazy man.

Intellectually, I know there is no 'chapstick conspiracy'. But why then do I still avoid chapstick? Nowadays, when I am offered the stuff, I still say no, but my inner reasoning is because I imagine the stuff will taste or feel nasty on my lips. Never once have I tried it, though. Not even a smidgen. Am I nuts?

Still, you have to admit that I have never had chapped lips, so maybe there is something to my insane strategy here...

::sigh:: No, I'm just crazy, that's all. I think one thing intellectually, and yet I act another way entirely. How can I let this happen to myself? How can I, a totally and completely logical person who thrives on proof and sound reason be reduced to a person that refuses chapstick at all costs?

Perhaps I should try chapstick, just once. That would prove that I believe in reason, and not fantasy.

But is there anything wrong with believing in fantasy? What harm is there in believing that there are gremlins inside your computer? Or that your vehicle has a personality? How is it that I can discriminate so harshly against these things when I myself refuse chapstick? Furthermore, why cannot I just avoid chapstick for the rest of my life and think nothing of it? Why does everything have to turn into an argument with me, even when I am talking to myself?

Ach... There are so many questions, and yet so few answers.

"All or none, Eric."
All or none? What do you mean?
"If you wish to believe in reason, then you must wholly believe in reason. To accept one single flaw is to negate your entire belief."
But why? Is there not room in logic for simple play? Can I not just pretend that there is a chapstick conspiracy?
"Not if you wish to pursue logic. Logic accepts no flaw. One single fallacy makes the entire system fall apart."

::sigh:: I'm right, you know. All or none. And yet I have such a desire for it to be none... Oh, how free I would be if I threw away my logic and flew amongst the faeries, dancing in the wind and singing to the pixies... How wonderful life would be if I never had to argue again, but rather could accept anything I wished as the utmost truth and free from disrepute of any kind... How lovely thou wouldst seem, were reason not my claim to fame...

Alas, I am logical. To a fault.

And yet...

"No."
But --
"I said no."

::sigh:: I truly am an intellectual dreamer... I wish for one thing, and yet praise another. But the saddest part is that I know the logic side of me is right, no matter how much I wish the dreaming side were instead. I know that my logic side is right because of infallible arguments. It is impossible to argue against logical truths. I wish it were not so, but wishing does not change anything. Logic conquers all. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I think I should be committed. I am, after all, only partly sane. ::sigh:: I am scared to go to a mental health doctor because I am afraid that I would be locked away from society. I am afraid that if a professional were to see the real me, they would be too scared to allow me existence in the public domain.

Perhaps it is this same belief that makes truly too crazy to be allowed outside.

I would never kill anyone. At least I don't think I would. I would like to believe that if my emotional side ever wanted to kill, then my logical side would not permit it. And if my logical side wanted to kill, then my emotional side would not permit it. But what proof have I that such a scenario might pan out in just such a way?

"Eric, I have a hypothetical question for you."
Go ahead.
"If killing were legal, and you would not be punished for murder by society or by survivors of the victim, would you kill?"
Not if I had no reason to.
"Pretend you hated the guy. Would you kill him?"
Killing him would not solve my hatred for him. Rather, I would prefer to convince him that he was wrong and I right in whatever dispute started this hatred.
"What if someone you loved asked you to kill him? Would you do it?"
You mean what if my true love asked me to do it?
"Yes, that is what I mean exactly."
Hell, yes, I would kill him, and without a second thought. For my true love, I would do anything. Anything at all.

I would be committed, wouldn't I?

::sigh::

--end copied text--

Who I am has changed much in the intervening years. Just the other day, I was having an argument (as I am oft wont to do) with my friends at the dinner table, and the topic of logic came up. Said I:

"If I were to drop one french fry from each hand onto the table, how many french fries would then be on the table? Logic would tell us two; but what right has logic to say this? On what basis does logic make this determination? Recall that the reason logic states this is empirical in nature, and not logical."

"But, Eric," they invariably reply, "surely you would not say that 1+1=2 is eexperimental in nature at all! It is perfectly logical to maintain that the concept of 1+1=2 without looking at any physical objects whatsoever!"

"But this is exactly what I am saying! Think about how math originally came to be -- you have these cavemen, and they see one and one come together numerous times, and each time they see it happen, they see two objects as the result. It is from these numrous 'experiments' that simple addition is originally based upon, and nothing more."

"I may grant that fact," Russ admits, "but it does you no help with proving your point. Perhaps humans did come to perceive the concept of simple addition via crude empirical methods, but once discovered, the conception of addition holds true regardless of experimentation."

"You forget that if mathematics is not applied to a thing, then it is purely hypothetical in nature. But I will dismiss that, too, and get to the core of what I am saying. Just because 1+1 has always been shown to equal 2 in the past does not mean that it will continue to do so in the future. I have dropped these friench fries onto the table numerous time already, and each time, after I dropped them, there were two french fries on the table. But so what? I cannot see into the future, and neither can you. How can you say with such utter certainty that the next time I drop the french fries, it will still be two on the table? Is it not possible that after dropping the french fries, there would be three?"

"Of course, it's not possible!" This time it is Jay that speaks up to the defense of reason. "How can you even attempt to maintain such a thing?"

"Let me give an example of what I mean, and perhaps it will be made more clear.

"Imagine a hypothetical universe identical to our own, except for one slight variance: whenever a coin is tossed, it comes up heads 75% of the time. By this, of course, I mean that the chances of anything occurring have been altered in this fashion, and not just coins. A die, for example, would give unequal odds for each face, and so on.

"(To help with the usefulness of this example, consider that if there are multiple universes, then there might exist two universes differing only in the number of heads flipped in relation to tails. While the "true" probability of throwing a head might be 50%, in the first universe, there might be 10 heads thrown for every 9 tails, and in the second, there might be 9 heads thrown for every 10 tails. Following the bell curve of universes with differing coin tosses, there must exist a universe way on the fringe of the bell curve such that in its universe, there might be 10 heads thrown for every 1 tails. You get the idea.)

"Now, imagine how probability would have been observed in this universe. Notice that the first mathematicians would notice the frequency of heads over tails, and they would note the frequency with care. Whereas in our universe, we determined rather early on that the frequency of heads to tails was due to surface area and weight disposition, in this hypothetical universe, an explanation might be longer in coming. But rest assured that they would find an explanation. And I don't mean something magical or mysterious. It would never even be a mystery. It would be commonplace to them, for that is how it would be for them all of the time. And one day in their history, some bright mathematician would "discover" some rule of probability which governs their world, and that rule would be fully consistent with everything else they mathematically 'knew' in that universe.

"Now, if you will admit to the possibility of this situation, and I'm sure that you must, then you must admit to the arbitrary nature that probability in our universe is described by. And if I can make you doubt probability, how far away am I from causing you to doubt simple addition, too?

"If you imagine another hypothetical universe where whenever someone dropped a french fry from each hand onto the table, there was always three french fries on the table afterward, then can you imagine their mathematicians tring to describe their world?

"It is no wonder, then, why I call mathematics arbitrary, and completely dependent upon experiment. And anything dependent upon experiment cannot and should not be counted upon to further apply in the future, even if it always has in the past."

Ever since I first read Gödel in my freshman year of college, I've been torn with the concept of mathematics as either incomplete or inconsistent. It bothered me a great deal. But after delving more and more into Descartes and thinking more and more about what constitutes true reality, I came to the stark realization that I was moving toward something even worse than pure nihlism: I was becoming agnostic in every sense of the word, even in reference to logic.

I have reached a state in this point of my life where even conceptual ideas seem rather suspect, and what little remains of my life is there merely from feeling, rather than thought. I truly am an intellectual dreamer, but in a way different from how I thought I meant it years ago. Instead of the phrase being rather doublespeak in nature, I have come to realize that I intellect those things that I dream.

(I say "come to realize" rather than "have changed to thinking" because in reality, this is what I've been doing all along -- I just never realized it. In Heideggerian terms, I finally 'glimpsed' of the truth of my existence. Of course, don't tell anyone you saw me reference Heidegger -- to be frank, I think he's pretty full of shit.)

Am I fully sane? Probably not. But what has changed is my outlook on the meaning of 'sanity'. What constitutes a sane person is the same conceptualization as what constituted the "better race" so many years ago. The scientific community once accepted and even revered the work of Franz Boas, who "proved" that the white race was superior to all other races, due to brain size. (His findings assumed a bigger brain mass meant a superior being, and it also assumed that the shape of the cranium was a final determinant of brain size. Both assumptions are untrue.) But one cannot look at what amounts of some chemical most people have in their brains, and then say that other people with differing amounts must have a "chemical imbalance". It is imbalanced precisely because the conderation for "well-balanced" people is what the majority of people have. Now, I'm not saying that different levels of chemicals do not affect things, but I am saying that the decision of which is correct is determined not by science, but by the arbitrary definition of what most people have.

Would I kill a person, if everything wrong with killing were removed? Probably not. But what has changed is not my thought processes, but rather my definition of 'right' and 'wrong'. I admit that my consideration of what is 'right' has come to me via a rather awkward route of Nietzsche, but at least I have that concept of morality now. Given the same set of questions as before, I can honestly say that I would still not kill. Not because of Kant's categorical imperative, or Plato's idea of The Good, but because I chose my own horizon, and its view of morality is such that I cannot kill.

Does that make me hypocritical, what with my horizon being arbitrary and all? I don't think it does. The reason I say this is because it is my horizon, and I am within it. To me, it is not arbitrary at all, for it has already been chosen. It is like Lincoln saying "four score and seven years ago", or Machiavelli advising rulers to build their castle walls with bricks sticking out on the sides. I know that this sparse explanation is not enough to explain what I mean, but I must postpone a full explanation of why I think it is not arbitrary until another day. And I promise to tie up the loose end of Lincoln and Machiavelli when I do that, too.

Until then, I have final exams to study for.... ::sigh::

The Silver Screen Survey

Yes, I know that surveys are silly. But well-written surveys can truly tell a lot about a person in only a few mere lines.

Feel free to copy this survey to your own journal, should you feel the desire to (or else if you're just really bored).

Thanks in advance to my best friend Robin for creating the survey. (c;


The Silver Screen Survey, all about movies:

Favorite movie of all time: Cool Hand Luke
Favorite musical: Grease
Favorite comedy: Princess Bride
Favorite satire: La Vita e Bella
Favorite romance: Escaflowne
Favorite drama: Shawshank Redemption
Favorite epic: The Godfather & Sequels
Favorite dramedy: Being John Malkovich
Favorite "indie": Pulp Fiction
Favorite big studio: Raiders of the Lost Ark
Favorite trilogy: The Back To The Future Trilogy
Favorite dualgie (with one sequel): The Predator Movies
Favorite quadrie (with three sequels): The Alien Series
Favorite horror: Evil Dead
Favorite action: Star Wars
Favorite genre-defying: Citizen Kane
Favorite teen flick: Grease
Favorite Sci-Fi: The Day The Earth Stood Still
Favorite period piece: Star Trek
Favorite dance-themed movie: Mary Poppins
Favorite John Travolta movie: Grease
Favorite made-for-tv: Babylon 5
Favorite foreign film: Escaflowne
Favorite documentary: Bowling For Columbine
Favorite book adaptation: Animal Farm
Favorite play adaptation: Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Favorite love scene in film: Mary Poppins, where the whole movie is about the best kind of love there is!
Favorite film adapted from a tv show: Cowboy Bebop
Favorite filmmaker: Robin Raven
Favorite film actor: Hmm...
Favorite film actress: Robin Raven
Favorite movie soundtrack: Cowboy Bebop
Favorite format (theater, dvd, etc.): *.VOB files
Favorite genre: Anything Thought-Provoking
Favorite actress to play you in a movie: Robin Raven
Favorite actor to play you in a movie: Me. (c;
(both of the above apply to both sexes)
Favorite thing about movies: The music!

On Truth (& A Refutation of Descartes' Cogito)

Unlike the ancients, I do not believe that the noblest end is to think. Nor would I even grant that to think is at least the noblest end of man. But put this aside for the moment. I will grant thought as the pinnacle of existence for the purposes of this argument, so that I may best illustrate my point.

Even if the true end of man is to think, why is it that this would be so? (I realize it is odd to grant a point not to use it as a premise, but rather as a conclusion, but if the reader will bear with me, I am sure they will see the reason for my attacking the argument in this way.) The reason, as given by the ancients (and almost unilaterally agreed upon until the Heideggerian reopening of the question), is this: only because it is through thought that we may be closest to what is (e.g., the truth, the good, or the God) that it may be true that the end of man is to think.

Thus, if one accepts God's existence, the noblest quest is to try to know God. But notice this is merely a corollary to the main idea that the noblest quest is to try to know truth.

As such, I strive to know truth. (This is despite my inability to grant thought as the pinnacle of existence, as stated earlier. The reason why will become clear soon enough.) Not relative truth, nor what others would call fact, but real, solid, truth. As in the complete opposite of falsehood.

The truth I speak of is necessary truth, concepts (or events, or whatever you choose to call them) that must be, no matter what. I am speaking on a level which transcends even Descartes. This is way past the cogito.

Am I? I mean this question quite literally. Do I exist? Descartes says that if I think that I am writing this question, I may not actually be writing this question, but at least I think I am writing it, which means that I must be thinking. And if I think, then there must be something which is having a thought, and whatever that thing may be, it must necessarily exist.

But Descartes fails in this argument. Such has been made quite clear in numerous doctoral theses over the many years. If one still remains unconvinced that Descartes' argument fails, I will briefly introduce my own counterargument here, which to my knowledge has not been made elsewhere.

My counterargument:

Even if it is granted that if one's existence is guaranteed by their thought, their thought may never be shown to truly exist. What I mean by this is that we, as observers, determine what the meaning of existence is. We call the existence of a thing "something", while we call its absence "nothing". But we, in all our years as observers, have never seen "nothing". Instead, all we see is "something". And we try to give this concept of "nothing" a descriptive quality that we truly do not have the ability to judge.

Imagine a field filled with "nothing". We observe this field, and we see nothing. If one were to ask what the electrical charge was at a certain point, we would say that they are nonexistent.

Now, imagine a field filled with protons, a very different situation than the one filled with "nothing". If one were to ask what the electrical charge was at a certain point, we would have the exact same answer as before: they are nonexistent.

Then imagine a single anti-proton inserted into the former field of nothingness. We would then say that the electric charge at this single point is -1, and that at all other points in the field, the electric charge is 0.

Now consider in the latter field filled with protons that we remove a single proton. What would we say about the field now? The same as in the previous example: the electric charge at this single point is -1, and at all other points in the field, the electric charge is 0.

Which is the truth? As Feynman once quipped, is the positron merely an absence of a electron, or is it the other way around? Or is it neither? The point of this argument is not to show that it is one or the other, but rather to show that we cannot know which situation is the true reality.

Now consider Descartes. He says he is thinking. Or at least he thinks he is thinking. But regardless, he must exist, right? But this is not neccessarily so, even if you grant the hypothesis of his cogito, since the antecedent of his hypothetical cannot be established. Is it not possible that true nothingness -- the absence of all which is something -- is what Descartes considers his own state of thinking? I am not arguing that this is the necessary case, nor even a likely case, but I am arguing that you can never establish for a fact that the act of thinking is "something" rather than 'nothing", and so Descartes may not definitely assert his own existence.

And so, with even Descartes falling short of what may be called true truth, the question rears its ugly head once more: Am I?

I'm not sure.

I am bombarded on all sides by arguments for the existence of Jesus' divinity, or at least Abraham's god, or if not that, then at least the civil war, and when I am still unable to profess true belief, they all look at me increduously and declare that surely I must at least believe in their existence, for if that much is not granted, then how can we even speak to one another? But even Descartes never granted others' existence. He only granted his own.

What bothers me most is my own hypocrasy. You see, I enjoy life. A lot. I like to think. I like to play games. I like to argue with people. I love, and I feel loved. I live my life with regard to what I consider is good, going so far as to commit to charities, and to remain a strict vegetarian. My actions are consistent with a man who cares about things, and who thinks he can make the world a better place.

But I do not get my notion of what is better from God. Instead, it is rather more like Zarathustra. I think, and if I consider what I think to be bad, then I deem it bad. If I consider it to be good, then I deem it good. Granted, my considerations are heavily influenced by the Christian society that I was brought up in, but if one puts this aside, then my situation is the worst form of idolatry: To me, I am God.

Unlike with Boethius, it is not philosophy which consoles me, but rather it is philosophy which terrifies me. It is the wonderfulness of the life around me which keeps me from depression. Not the thoughts that logic give me so readily.

Do I exist? If I am truly truthful with myself, I am forced to answer that I do not know. Is there anything, then, that I might know?

I ask this question of myself, and I am amazed at my own answer. If it is a question of belief, then I can only believe what I feel to be true. And there is only one thing that really and truly feels true to me:

Love.

I love Robin. I love my life. I love the world, and all that is in it. This feels true to me, just as it feels morally wrong when I see someone kicking a dog, or eating meat. Not because I see the necessity of kicking a dog to be morally wrong, but because I feel kicking a dog is morally wrong.

By what other method may I attempt to define truth? True truth remains unnattainable, by every method I've considered. But if one creates their own horizon, rather than accepting that which they are given, then truth suddenly becomes attainable, since that truth is defined by one's very existence.

My truth is that of love. Zarathustra's truth may differ from mine, but they have come about in the same way. And I am proud of this meaning of truth. I am proud because it is the strictest interpretation that truth can be tied down to. Sure, I could easily give looser meanings for truth... But this is as strict as it gets. This is the best that can be done. And I am proud of it.

An Interesting Day

Today was an...interesting day.

This morning, I awoke to a knock on the door. Before I even opened my eyes, Dorek had unlocked the door, and Matt walked into the room. "Oh, sorry, guys; did I wake y'all up?" Matt's accent is distinctively not Southern, but he still occasionally lapses into the vocabulary of a Southerner. I suppose that is what he gets for having lived down here for so long.

I was still too groggy to get up, but I listened as Matt explained his presence. "My car stereo was jacked last night." The words bounced around in my head a few times while I considered what he was saying. To me, I suppose, it was at first unbelievable; mainly because I've never had anything stolen from me before (anything sans a few minor type two Magic cards, that is), and also because I had assumed our closed campus community was safe enough to prevent such inane things from occurring. I suppose that in reality, these thoughts of mine are merely proof that I am still far too naive in how I view the world around me.

"You need to call campus security, Matt. Call them, and see what they say." I was still slightly asleep at this point, and I recall being slightly surprised in that Matt wasn't even spazzing all that much. Somehow, it just seemed wrong that his level of spazziness was not even close to what I had seen him capable of in the past. I suppose serious incidents such as this, then, have some alternate effect on him....

After he called campus security, he went out to meet them at his car. He was gone for a few minutes, or maybe even longer -- I can't remember as I may have fallen asleep again in the meantime -- and when he arrived again, he mentioned having to clean out the glass from his car -- whomever had stolen his cd player had apparently broken through his passenger side window in order to get to it.

So Dorek and I went out to his car to help clean up the mess. It was horrible. The window had shattered into a huge amount of tiny pieces, and we needed to pick up every last one of them, since Matt had a four hour drive to make back home, and we didn't want one of the pieces to be picked up by the wind (coming from the open passenger window) and cut him while he was on the interstate.

So we each took up a plastic bag, and we began getting all of the glass out of his car. It was tedious work. All three of us got cuts while picking up the tiny shards, and some of the glass was so hard to get at, that we had to go find a vacuum to pick all of it up.

After the big pieces were accounted for, we went to Drumheller's, and he let us borrow an extension cord and a vacuum. Then we went back to our dorm (they in the car, while I went back by foot), and picked up two more extension cords so that we could get electricity from inside the building to reach all the way to the car. While Dorek and Matt vacuumed, I went upstairs to take a shower and finish waking up. It was time for me to change, anyway -- I had been wearing the same clothes for three days, despite my having finished doing my laundry two days ago. That alone is a good way of showing how lazy I truly am.

When we were done, we opted to go out to eat. We called Drumheller and David, and while David decided not to come, the rest of us went out to the Olive Garden.

I adore Italian food. My maternal grandfather was Italian, and my entire family has always enjoyed eating Italian food. It is one of those things that I enjoy immensely.

I had a wonderful time there. We talked of light hearted things, and put the incident from earlier today out of our minds. The food was utterly delicious; I would have loved to get a dessert as well, but I was so full by the end of the meal that I couldn't eat another bite. Afterward, we went to EBGames, as we so often do, and we looked around at all of the games we always look at, yet so rarely buy. (Or is once a month more than just rarely?)

Then we went to Best Buy, and Drumheller bought an Anti-virus program that he could have gotten for free from elsewhere, had he been willing to do so underhandedly. I would say that I respect him for not having taken the free copied version that we had on hand to give to him, but the real reason he bought a registered copy was because the money he was spending was his parents', and by spending money at Best Buy, he got more "Rewards Zone" points. So his reasoning was entirely selfish in this instance.

I don't usually write entries of this sort, where I talk only of my day, or what has happened during it, but today was the kind of day that just had to be written about. At least, I think it was.

What a way to begin my Spring Break....

Rearranging Ketchup Bottles

He still works there.

Every day I see him, rearranging the ketchup bottles. Except on weekends. He has weekends off.

I wonder if he ever notices me watching him. Today, he wore black jeans. His face reminds me of how old these college grounds are. There is a building on campus that was built before the civil war. The grass I walk upon as I go to class each day was once mowed by the hard work of slaves.

Please don't get me wrong. This college is a Jesuit college, and it is famous for being the very first in the South to integrate both blacks and women, before it was mandatory by law to do so. I have always ben quite impressed with the Jesuit culture and history, for as long as I've been aware of it.

But there is still an underclass here. I see them every afternoon, when I stop to look at the construction site on the library and new chapel. Once, I even noticed a guy named Chris that went to middle school with me. Apparently, Chris works construction now. I wonder how he must feel in seeing that I am attending school here.

I'm talking to myself, now; I realize this. You, of whom is reading my words, take this fact for granted: I am not writing to you. I am not interested in converting anyone from whatever point of view they might hold. I am not to that point yet. Before it is okay for me to try to convince another, I must first convince myself. And this is the argument of that convincing process.

I have heard people say that those who do not make as much money do not deserve to make money. While I am unsure as to whether or not this is true, Iwish to admit it for the sake of this argument. I want to see if their argument holds even when their premises are taken to be true.

Let us say, then, that these people have less income because they do not work hard, or they are lazy, or they are stupid, or they make bad life choices. While others, who do make good money, work hard, and do the right things.

This does not change the existence of slavery -- it only changes the form and definition of the slave.

Whereas slaves were once determined by color of skin or makeup of gender, now we see them (even if the aforementioned premise is admitted) determined by stupidity, laziness, or bad life choices. How is it right, even if Chris did not do the right things, that he should have to build the schoolhouse that I will attend?

I am reminded of a journal entry I made on 11/19/2002, when I first started to realize these things:

--begin copied text taken from part of "Anarchy Versus ... Me?", 11/19/02--

He is there every day when I go to the cafeteria for food. Forty hours a week he toils, sometimes more. Yes, he gets paid, but so what? How does he get out?

"How does he evade the system?" my friend asks me.

I'm stumped. I sit for five or so seconds, and the smile on his face grows as others at the table snicker at my expense. It is the first time they've ever seen me hesitate.

I have to answer with something... anything. "Well, ..." I imagine a bead of sweat rolling down my forehead, but it is too cool for any such thing to happen. "... he shouldn't procreate. If he can't give a good life to his children, then he shouldn't have any; this will break the cycle, and the children that are born into this world will be better off than otherwise."

"So we should round up all the poor people and have them spayed? Then we can use them for slave labor afterwards and it'll all be good, right?" The snickers become outright bursts of laughter, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

"No, no -- they shouldn't be forced into it, but surely you see why --"

"No, I don't see, Eric. What do you mean? What are you getting at?"

...

I look at him, and I see what I see everyday that I come to the cafeteria. He walks from table to table, fixing chairs and sweeping floors and rearranging ketchup bottles.

Am I really doing this to him? Is it really people like me who have dictated that his life be as it is? My glass of tea is empty, so I excuse myself for another round. Is this what capitalism really means? That I am better than him? Why am I better than him? I can't stop glancing at him as I walk through the cafeteria. I worked hard to get where I am; I am working hard even now. Why should he get what I get if all he does is rearrange ketchup bottles? I fill my glass with tea. But he has no choice; where else can he go? This is the best job he can get? Could you do better if you were in his position?

I pour out the tea, disgusted with myself. I look at my hand, quivering in the bland light of the cafeteria, and I see the scar. Greg's scar. It was his sword that pierced me that night; it was my thoughts that night that scared me more than any other night I've ever been alive. I lied that night. I know not why, but I did. It wasn't a big deal at the time, but now, looking back, I know how important that night was to my life. On that night, I was the one rearranging ketchup bottles. By choice.
What am I here for? Why do I do what I now do? Why do I have such thoughts? ...such hurt?

Absalom? No. God, I hope not.
Tyson? Perhaps. I don't think so, though.
Conan? ... Maybe. Maybe so.

That's scary, you know. Really scary.

--end copied text--




The slavery is not ended, but only the face of how it is done is changed. To work for another is to be cheated, regardless of the price given for it. If I sell you a thing, why would you ever buy it for what it is truly worth? If you did that, then you could construct it of your own free will for the same cost. Instead, you pay more than what it is worth -- though from my perspective, and not neccessarily your own. But the difference in our perspectives is due to a difference in how much money we have in the first place! It is a circular thing. If I sold a for what it is worth, then I'd be seling at cost, and I wouldn't be making money. By definition, I must sell for more than what a thing is worth, preferably in a situation where it is sold for less than what it is worth to you (otherwise, why would you even buy the thing?). But the whole relative difference in price is based entirely upon whomever has the means of production. If I can produce at an easier rate than you, then there exists a cost for an item where what is above cost for me is below cost for you, and I can make money while you are saved the expense of having to obtain the means of production that I already have. But how is it that I get the means of production in the first place?


This world is not just, and I do not like it. Some form of justice in this world should be in existence. Even if it is my own. Does it truly take the Übermensch to get things done? And if I want it done my own way, does it have to be me that does something about it?

There is something inherently selfish here in these thoughts of mine that anybody else would forever consider selfless.

I said that I hoped I was not Absalom. I was referring to catholic history there. It scares me that I even considered Mike Tyson's use of force. And the Conan reference, to those who missed it (which was everyone by my last count), was for Conan O'Brian, a tak show host who uses such thoughts as humorous material.

There is a fourth option... One that I had notconsidered at the time. That of Nietszche. But... The odds are against it. Still, were it true...

But it isn't, Eric. Quit hoping.


I am a selfish, selfish man.

)c: