12.19.2002



Where all the blog at?


I have been ordained! That's right folks, I can preform marriage ceremonies, christen babies and all that good stuff. And it's legal. I doubt I'll be posting everyday, not for any particular lack of material, but I'm kind of a slacker. I guess I should talk about something here, you know...progress and whatnot. Today I took my B-day finals...all of them. All went well, except for in chemistry, as my teacher is a filthy, filthy bitch. I didn't actually get around to writing my essay for the test, no big deal, its only 25 points. Well, she of course called the 'rents anyway, forcing me to communicate with them, something I don't do too often and for good reason. Lorren, Shawn, we need to move out now. I will not survive into next year, these people drive me nuts.



I'm a gangsta, and won't be trifled with. Peace out.--Big Bad Bacchus

12.18.2002



Virgin Post



Well. This is my blog...proud of me? I guess I should get something a little entertaining here, but nothing comes to mind. I'll probably have some essays or just original literature in general up here in the next couple of days, but for right now, I'll just wing it. How about Plato's theory of creation? Ok, well it begins with the Demiurge...sort of anyway. The Demiurge is the architect of our reality, the realm of imperfection. There is also another "world", but is more often referred to as another frame of reference. It is outside the world which we perceive, obviously and is most often referred to as the world of ideas. This is where the Demiurge dwells. In this place, you will find the ideal tree, the ideal house, the ideal...well...everything. It has existed since the beginning in the perfect state in which it does and shall continue to be, never changing. Our world is imperfect however, because it is made of matter. There are two substances in the universe, matter and ideas. The Demiurge impresses these ideas upon the matter, but the matter is imperfect, and serves as a barrier preventing our ability to change our frame of reference. It is because we are encased in an imperfect shell that we cannot rise above sensory perceptions and attain an understanding of the ideal.



I've been toying with a few ideas of my own about this, in the form of short stories. I'll write and post one tomorrow, kind of my sophomore effort to help with a few "what if's" that have been bugging me lately. I plan on delving into areas in which I am thoroughly incompetent so don't expect it to be too accurate, or a great literary work, for you would suffer great disappointment. Speaking of writing, AP writing is in the opinion of an avid writer/reader such as myself a freakin' sacrilege. I feel like a sellout participating in something so degrading to something I love. That's why I've only written one the entire year, but only to pass the final. What can I say, guess I have scruples. For those of you who know Mrs. Morgan, my former English teacher, I'd just like to point out that she highlited and wrote side notes in her copy of Les Miserables, and to this day I have nightmares about it. Well, I certainly hoped you've learned something while reading this. If you have any questions referring to philosophy, I'm your guy.



One last thing here. I've been wondering lately, exactly what kind of a person am I? I'm a sour cynic who's bitter about human nature in general, and women in particular. I'm an agnostic and a secular humanist and a generally charitable human being. I'm probably one of the most intelligent people you'll ever meet. I'm kindhearted and a naive blaspheming jerk. I am an artist. Self-pity is my canvas and depression is the medium through which I work. I am also done rambling. Thank that guy that may or may not exist for small favors, eh? Just so I won't forget I'll write it here, tomorrow's food for thought: "All great truths begin as blasphemies" -unknown.



Farewell and whatnot--Bacchus.