February 09, 2005
Origin Ruminations 2
I need to write more. I have had so many ideas in my head recently of things I've wanted to write about I'm simultaneously at both a loss as what to write and trying to stitch all the ideas into one big long entry.
Yesterday, I revisited my entry where I argue for the existence of an intelligent designer, as placeholder. The problem with evolution/The Big Bang theory is it illuminates a fallacy of scientific reasoning.
Scientific reasoning absolutely relies on the examination of cause and effect and their inter-relation. Working backward from here every effect had a cause, and that cause was the effect of a separate cause, which this separate cause itself was the effect of yet another cause, ad infinum. Put another way, every effect is both a falling domino (effect) and a domino that will fall upon another domino and cause it to fall (cause). This is not where the problem lies.
The problem lies at the ends of this chain. It is possible and reasonable for a cause to have no effect, but it is logically implausible for an effect to lack a cause.
Back to evolution/The Big Bang. These are both explained as a series of cause->effect/cause->effect/cause->effect, etc. But, the problem lies within the effect-less cause. This requires that something was the instigator of this cause. Logically this instigator must have some special status. From this an intelligent designer follows. if you insist on the lack of an ID the theory in and of itself collapses in logical impossibility.
(For the record half of this is cribbed off my Philosophy prof's lecture last night, but it elaborates on my uncomfortableness with some of the related science.)
February 15, 2005
I'm fucking pissed at myself.
I'm fucking pissed at myself.
I'm on the bus on my way home. Class got out early and I waited at the bus stop for about 10 minutes. Its one of those mellow cool nights, windless, not too cold that I need a coat, not to warm that I feel warm. So I relished the limbo.
Within limbo I delivered a monologue which I will hold unshared with me, my own selfish gift and albatross.
I'm frustrated when I walk the halls and walkways of NKU I'm constantly on the look out for W (Screw it, anyone who would research this, or knows me, knows I'm talking about Shawn.) I'm fucking pissed at myself for this behavior. Its horribly unproductive if not self destructive.
I don't know what Shawn represents to me. In some ways, my nearly eyeblink relationship with him functions as a demarcation point. In some ways I can ascribe a Before Shawn Era and an After Shawn Era. Its not that he actually caused anything directly its just during the same few months, I had the intestines along with the shit beaten out of me, in more than one way. Our interactions just have the clearest hurt, and therefore allow me to ultimately tag so many unrelated disappointments onto them.
I'm fucking pissed at myself that I don't have a vision of where I'm going - the possibilities are there - a "grand" career moving fruit, a producer of short money losing movies, the group member that gets the class moving, someone who gets other people's visions done.
I have to accept this -- I facilitate. I can get the job of getting people all accomplishing someone else's vision done.
I'm absolutely denying reality if I think I can get my own visions done. Hell, I get a hair cut three weeks late, do laundry when I'm wearing clothes for the fourth time, and wash the dishes only after the stench is noticeable. This website hasn't been upgraded despite the vision and the plan to do it - of course its my vision - not someone else's.
Okay, I know I'm exhausted. I'm on about five hours of sleep and I've had a rough day at work, followed by a class with a professor I disagree with more and more.
But, in many ways I know I'm more honest with myself when I no longer have the energy to maintain my facades for my own benefit.
In case you missed it:
I'm fucking pissed at myself.
Sitting on the back porch.
I miss sitting on the back porch. My Great Grandma Henson and I would always sit on the back porch after dinner. She would smoke a cigarette and I would sit with her enjoying the weather and watching the cars go past the mall parking lot directly ahead.
We would sit on the back porch and talk and bridge the almost eighty years that separated us.
I miss Grandma Henson. She was a woman whose wisdom I didn't have the capacity to appreciate at my young age, and whose wisdom I desperately seek.
How do you go on for eighty years and find the strength of convictions to become the pillar bridging the rent in a family?
Where does the unmatched energy and grace come from when you're matching the unbridled energy of a seven year old?
Where do you find the strength to outlive your husband and son, yet still mow your own lawn at the age of 75?
I miss sitting on the back porch. I miss my grandmother.