Oh, bother.wrote:"There is no better way to understand a system than to live inside of it for a time. Consequently, it should follow that there is no worse way to understand a system than to grow up inside of it during the formative years of one's life. This is because growing up inside of a given system means that one is biased to the ideas and cultural influences of the system in a way non conducive to the study of a system in a critical and thoughtful way. If one cannot separate themselves from the ideas that they have grown up with, then there is no hope for them to be able to recognize what the problem is with their society. However, once exiting their system or society, one carries with them the biases and cultural ideas that they learned while participating in their own society, making it impossible to become an impartial observer of any system without growing up in total isolation. In this way we are doomed, for we cannot address our own problems as a species without turning towards a biased viewpoint. This will be our undoing. Some may argue that this is one of our strengths and view the multitude of perspectives on Earth to be a good thing and find pride in diversity of opinion, but all this does is serve to confuse us. The fall of the tower of Babel was just that - a fall, a negative consequence, not something to be championed as responsible for one of our strengths."
[Max Rudolph continued from life observes itself.]
It was had been such a beautiful day outside. The bounty of spring was plentiful, and the fragrance of flowers brought tears to his eyes. Allergies notwithstanding, there was much virtue to be found in the pursuit of outdoor activity. Max had decided to enjoy the day outside and set aside his studies for the time being. Though his current pile of books remained unfinished, he figured that it would be healthy to take some time to enjoy the worldly pleasures of the senses for a change. Concerning seasons, his favorite was by far the summer, as its heat provided ample comfort for all to sweat under the rays of the sun in hopes of achieving their ideal form, chiseling away at their bodies, engaging in sport and mock-combat, enjoying each unintentionally taciturn silence, for it was these moments that stuck out the most in his memory despite the hours he poured into the knowledge gained by searching within.
Spring did not afford for such gallantry, so Max decided to go for a simple stroll to survey the city. He observed the lives and habits of his fellow citizen-folk and went among them as if he were a commoner, unafraid to engage in the pass-times of those without foresight. He allowed himself the transgression of giving money to a busker, an old, grayed, weathered man with an acoustic guitar standing outside of a bank humbly, proverbially prostrating himself before the masses. Two dollars slipped from his hand and into the man's hat. The busker nodded gratefully and gracefully, not interrupting his own playing or the words he sang. Despite their status as lyrics to some popular song, they found their way into Max's heart, and he was moved as he moved away.
"Some kinds of love, Marguerita told Tom
Between thought and expression lies a lifetime
Situations arise because of the weather
And no kinds of love are better than others"
Eventually, he found his way to the central public library branch. He had no destination when he set out on his odyssey, but he decided that the walk was far enough that it was worth it to make a stop in a place where he may pursue his studies and scholarly desires without walking back immediately. Consequently, he was able to access the publicly available computer terminals with the library card he always carried with him in his wallet, a temptation he found all too alluring, and he found himself soon staring at a google document he was working on with a classmate.
The girl had potential. He had attempted to groom her to think outside of the box, but to no avail. She was the kind of person who went along with the group simply because it was easiest to do so, a debutante enjoying her seemingly endless supply of parties and party thought to subscribe to. In her, Max saw the capacity to lead, to set a precedent and to have others follow her example. With her charisma and his intelligence, mountains could crumble. There was the capacity in her to be a formidable foe on the battleground of intellectual expression. Locke and Demosthenes, to reference a novel he had read in his youth. Instead, Liberty decided to fill her time with a wasteful obsession over animation. He expected more from her.
And now, this? This was either a bad attempt at mocking his personal beliefs, or it was an earnest attempt at sounding smart, or both. He decided he would type back a seemingly benign critique, fumbling around in the interface to find the comment function. He didn't know whether to go passage-by-passage and mark it up with post-it notes like he did to most of his books and amassed writings, so he highlighted the entire paragraph and wrote his disputation.
This was not how he intended to spend his day of rest. Sighing, Max leaned back in his chair, forgoing his naturally erect posture for just a few moments, and gazed around at the numerous empty desks in the computer area. The seat teetered on his back legs, threatening at any moment to fall all the way back lest Max put too much weight on it, but he relented, knowing the limits of his own strength. All he desired was for someone, anyone, to come through and confirm his suspicions that the paragraph had been written facetiously. At the very least, he wished to debate someone on the merits of paragraph, or on the ideas presented within, even if that information was not worth too much to him. He would ask, and probe, and prod, and eventually leave the library placated.View Comment wrote:This is too fatalistic. The biblical reference is shoehorned in, and all of these claims lack any sort of sufficient evidence. You make an effort to bring up the opposite viewpoint, but you do not sufficiently dismiss or address its concerns without crossing over into the realm of ridicule. I know it's tough to write for the other side of something you don't believe in, but try to understand it before you decide you don't like it.
After all, sometimes questions were not asked to gain knowledge.
Sometimes, the only reason one has for asking a question is for the purpose of killing time.