. 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."
Oh, come on!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.
It was so hard to work with this guy! Every single group project, every single lab report, every individual happenstance that put the two of them together was a pain in the butt. No matter what she wrotewhether to appeal to his sensibilities, or to fly in the face of themhe had something to say in the contrary. Like, okay, it was one thing to disagree with something you disagreed with in a legitimate, honest way, but it was an entirely different thing to tear apart what boiled down to your own life philosophy, or something! Did he even believe in what he believed in, or did he just decide it was the least worst opinion, mathematically? Maybe he thought that the sum total of all writings was leading up to his grandiose synthetic thingamabob of great and perfect knowledge. Maybe he fancied himself the unbiased wanderer of the world, able to tell the problems in everything while sticking to his own, unbiased, infallible, divinely inspired moral code.
Or maybe, juuuust maybe, he was a bit of a tool.
She didn't care anymore. She had spent all night writing that paragraph, and now it was being torn apart. Second semester seniors didn't need to worry about that kind of thing anymore, but he insisted on trying anyways. What school did he get into, anyways? Harvard? He probably thought he was too good for Harvard. He'd probably choose Yale. He'd probably realize that having the choice between Yale and Harvard was hilarious, and refuse to laugh at it. He'd go to UTC just to spite the world. Build himself up from "nothing" into "something."
Bert closed her laptop and sipped at her coffee angrily. Fuming with mad. She could crush the cup if she wanted to. Her booth was empty, the space on her seat next to her taken up by her orange backpack. She looked at her smart watch. 1:30 in the afternoon. To her parents, she had come over here to get some work done, but she was really just here to hang out. Starbucks was a little passé and overdone by now, but it didn't matter. She liked their coffee. Unironically, too. Max Rudolph probably went to Starbucks, ordered water, and walked back out. Demetri, his travelling companion, would giggle. Nah, it would be more like the whole of right-wing GHHS would snicker and laugh and, holy fuck, chortle along with him, and tip their fedoras at each other. It sucked to have to think about others this nastily, but it was all she could do. She was mad, and coffee wasn't helping.
What would really help, right now? Someone to vent to. Her eyes went to the entryway (no door, not even an automatic one, for this was an open air Starbucks, it seemed, though it still sat removed from the rest of the food court). Expectantly, she waited for someone to walk in, somebody she knew, making their cue, delivering themselves across the table from her, maybe even right next to her, moving her backpack to the floor, so she could give them a big, nice welcome hug, whether they liked it or not. A Lucas, perhaps? Or maybe even a Violet? There were a lot of Violets and Lucases to go around. She'd even go for the Violet that didn't like being hugged! She was nice!
But nobody came.
With a sigh, she took out her phone and opened Snapchat. It was about time to update her streaks. Today's filter would have to be the dog. Everyone loved the dog filter, right?