Sunday Brunch

In the midst of chaos and laughter
There is a void in my heart 
No, let me rephrase that
My heart feels too small
Too carry all these impressions 
That's it

In the corner of this café
After a lonely Sunday 
My heart aches for some company 
No, let me rephrase that 
My heart feels too small
It needs to be filled with the presence of my beloved
That's it

Sitting by myself
Sipping overpriced coffee 
The world seems to be looking at me, waiting for me to perform
No, let me rephrase that 
My heart feels too small
To know that I don't matter to these people 
That's it

In this little corner of the world
I am sitting, sipping, waiting, dating, contemplating 
Protecting my small heart in the midst of chaos and laughter

The Arrogant Loner Philosopher

If there is something that causes me unease, yet comfort at the same time it is the continuously reoccurring drive towards solitude. This feeling isn't new to me.  I became aware of this phenomenon years ago, but the fact that I paradoxically feel at ease in this loneliness is new to me. And that feeling exactly is what I want to examine more closely.
A few days ago I came home late as usual. My head felt heavy. It was pleasant, I spend the night with a loved one. Still in ecstasy I sat down in the bus after I had said goodbye. When I'm tired I usually lose the ability to clearly formulate thoughts, so thoughts just plump upon me in a stream of consciousness. I was shocked at the first thought that occurred to me the moment I had left:
´´Finally. Solitude.´´
The empty feeling afterwards felt quite warm and inviting. Its embrace felt much needed also.
It got me thinking, philosophizing, I mean. There is a void, that I see as a place of comfort. A void people normally tend to avoid. Why is this void suddenly so attractive, when it ought to be avoided?
Depressed people often say that the void sucks them of energy, that they can;t take the emptiness of the néant. I, however, experienced it differently. That doesn't mean I don't share their sentiments or at least don't understand them.
Yet, what I want to present is another side to this feeling that people tend to refer to as 'loneliness', 'emptiness' or 'nothingness'. The ambiguous side of loneliness. The feeling that this state of melancholy is a warm blanket that protects me against any impression the world tries to make on me. Escapism in nihilism. Comfort in nihilism.
In this feeling of warmth and comfort I sense that I am careless and lazy. Solitude can be best described as an empty cabin in a far away country that feels inviting after having seen, heard and felt too much. You retreat from the chaos into silence.
Certainly, the silence surrounding you can drive you insane, but it can also serve as a means to process thoughts that have been impressed in your soul.
This being the first factor that drives me to solitude. My soul is impressed by too much.
Another factor that drives me back to solitude and with that back to writing (since I haven't written in months) is me feeling restricted. All these impressions I feel, new ones and old ones, are a lot to process. They pile up and need time and energy to be thoroughly examined.
This in itself is mind numbing, but it becomes even harder when you have no clear morality to measure these impression up against, so you can't judge the position they take inside your life. You're stuck and don't know what to do with them. Yet, time passes. Days go by. The world waits for no one.
So whether I make my choice or not, there is no eternal tomorrow waiting for me to take my time.
So in the stress of time there seem two options available. Either you make up your mind and just choose already. You can either do this by investing time into the choice you're going to make and hope you will be able to triumphantly rise in the end. Or you can just choose and see whatever comes out, while being indifferent to the results and thinking that choices are a form of game you play in life to pass time.
Another option is to look at the other side of the coin and again accept that the world will not wait for you and do nothing about it.
In other words, to solitude yourself, because in the end nothing of the choices you make will matter in the long term, because in the end nothing shall last.
Or as Persian existential poet Omar Khayyam gracefully said:

''There was a water drop, it joined the sea. A speck of dust, it was fused with earth; what of your entering and leaving this world? A fly appeared and disappeared.''

I can understand that option two and three can be condemned if you are a humanist or have a positive attitude towards life. There's nothing virtuous in neglecting the will to live and life itself. Yes, simply seeing life as a game is also a way of neglect. After all, it's you being your own enemy and destroying yourself in the process, one can reason. Not a rebellion against the world, since the world doesn't care. It's you rebelling against that part that you detest in the world. That's how Camus would reason.
Yet, then I think of Kierkegaard. It doesn't matter what we choose, because in the end we will regret it anyway.
Live, don't live, you'll regret it anyway. Love, don't love, you'll regret it anyway. Study, don't study, you'll regret it anyway. Job, no job. Regret. Friendship, solitude. Regret. Fuck him, don't fuck him. Regret.
Yes, Kierkegaard meant this in another way than I am presenting right now. To him knowing we're mortal, meant living to the fullest. 
Morior, ergo sum. (I die, therefore I am.)
This is the only life you will get, this is the only chance for you to make mistakes. Love them. Since you won't be able to ever be mistaken again in the same exact way, in the same exact situation, with the exact same you.
Beautiful. What a beautiful way to turn something so fragile as life, something so uncertain as the freedom to choose into a manifestation of the self. As a way to take life with your bare hands and embrace it for the potential shithole it was, is and might become.
The problem however is, I am not Camus' Sysiphus. I am not Nietzsche's Übermensch.
I. Am. Sara.
Following whatever a philosopher said, simply for the sake of him saying it, doesn't fill my soul. I need more reason.
With this being said, I want to say that I do not wish to be an imitation of a philosopher. I wish to be a philosopher. How do I see it? Of course, inspired by other philosopher, but what is it I want? Nietzsche's position in what it means to be a philosopher is quite right in this sense. He said this.

Quote: ''The actual interest of the scholar, therefore, are generally in another direction - in the family, perhaps, in money-making, or in politics; it is, in fact, almost indifferent at what point of research his little machine is placed, and whether the hopeful young worker becomes a good philologist, a mushroom specialist, or a chemist; he is not characterized by becoming this or that. In the philosopher, on the contrary, there is absolutely nothing impersonal; and above all, hid morality furnishes a decided and a decisive testimony as to who he is, - that is to say, in what order the deepest impulses of his nature stand to each other.''
-Beyond Good and Evil, page 5

Being a philosopher means to be egocentric. It's also the only job that fully reflects the soul of the individual. In that sense, to philosophy is to exist. 
Philosopha sum ergo cogito. I am a philosopher, therefore I think.

To come back to the main topic: the drive towards solitude. The third factor being pride.
Pride is a difficult state of mind, character trait, whatever you want to call it. Pride can be good. It protects you from mental harm. It can cause you transcend yourself, because you are confident enough that there is more in store for you.
Even the act of me writing this is a form of pride, I have something to say that's worth listening to. I can even say I am proud of my ability to formulate these thoughts.
However, would it be better to have no pride at all? Is there something negative to it that outweighs the positive? No pride can lead to nihilism. You have nothing worth maintaining nor anything to lose.
It also seems to me that having pride and arrogance is something that belongs to a philosopher. Do humble philosophers exist or is that a contradictio in terminis? If they exist, perhaps it's a philosopher ignorant of his or her own arrogance.
I, as a matter of fact, know that it is necessary for a philosopher to be certain over a few things. To such an extend that he or she wants to present it to the world as some new discovery the world didn't see, but the philosopher in question did. He or she knows better.
Doesn't that imply arrogance? Am I arrogant writing this? At least to the point that I feel that these words are worth writing down and remembering?
This, however, isn't the only way pride presents itself to me. It also coincides with restriction of the self.
Those two fall under the same main drive that bring me back to wanting solitude: Freedom.
It's amusing how such an empty word still has the power to drive us towards it. What I mean by that is that freedom as an abstract term doesn't carry any meaning outside our frame of reality. I can't point at it; even worse, every individual has an own interpretation of freedom.
Is my red your red? And is my freedom your freedom? The second question can immediately follow the first.
Solitude is also a form of freedom. Not freedom to of course, but freedom from. From humiliation, from labor, responsibilities, embarrassment, pain, studies, loss.
Let us all be free from! So I wish I could exclaim and make life easy. Yet, aside from being an empty word, it is also an ambiguous term.
Freedom from love, pleasure, laughter, warmth, friendship, improvement, encounters, evolution, transcendence. In this battle of overcoming yourself you will see that those words that seem to be polar opposites actually have the option to causally follow each other in a beautiful flux called life.
So in conclusion, what has writing this brought me? Am I closer to anything at all? Or did I just run in a circle?
I can fairly conclude it led to something. Something small, but significant in my eyes.
I have no answers on how to live life. I merely know the questions. At least I know what the inner battle is. That's what this stream of consciousness has brought me.
Thus again I am confronted by wanting two things at once, but wanting neither over all. Thus once again there is the phenomenon I can never seem to outrun,
Ambiguity. 

Random Thought #5

There is unease surrounding us. Unease in the form of chaos. That distinction is made with reason. When we say that we feel at unease we mean that we can still function properly, yet lack the taste to dress up properly, to eat healthy, to go to work or class. Basically to do anything that adds up to our desire to present ourselves in such a way that we consider satisfactory. It is difficult to explain just giving general ideas of what I mean, so here is an allegory. A storm is going on. It takes place in a hollow room inside our chest. The storm is one of emotions. The emotions switch from one specter to the next, but they twist and twirl; causing uneasiness in the heart, because you never know what the storm will bring next. Even worse, what if it one day loses all it energy and stops spinning all together? Whatever the case, it is difficult to enter from the outside in. We can only experience the effects, but the causes remain a mystery.

This storm also has affected us to write and sit here thinking over and over how we should type these words with the correct and confident formulation that we're slowly losing. 

It is, funny enough, in exactly this inner battle that I have found a reason to finally write something down. Ambiguity is something that always fascinated me to be honest. It forms the bridge from extremes to a golden middle of grey and nuance. This transcends the black and white thinking and reminds me again why we are so brilliant. It shows that we actually are capable of deep thought to a very far away extend. One which gives the sudden realization that there is something beyond good and evil. This awkward piece of writing has a reason. As a means to turn this inner battle into a manifestation that can be turned outwards and thus also be presented to the outer world with the aim to reflect on it. 

Why is it that I am doubting myself so much?

It is difficult to type away, to fill pages and be meaningful. Aren't essays always supposed to be long? Because it seems that complexity, depth and validity have become synonyms in the philosophical atmosphere. Not that I can blame them of course, since I myself have admitted in a few pages earlier that it is more than necessary for me to convey my thoughts to the outer world and still preserve the intention and the depth that the words carry with them. Thus it is necessary to be clear. Clearness can only be understood in terms of either an Aha-Erlebnis (insight) or a pages of paper that exhibit the long syllogisms the writer went through in an internal battle with the self to finally come to that self-evident insight. 

And perhaps it is in exactly that in which I am experiencing the inner struggle. That I want both and neither. By both and neither, I mean that I appreciate either aspects, but neither in overall. 

I despise the shallowness of short philosophies. One-Liner Philosophies as I like to call them. You can often find them on social media with the picture of a punk-philosopher like Nietzsche or Sartre put by some rebel teenager to express his or her individuality. It consists out of one line that joyfully kicks against the system, such as ''God is dead'' or ''The hell is the Other''. 

I must admit, it does annoy me, even though I try to ignore it. 

Tbe One-Liner Philosophies used by many, not only now, but by anyone with a superiority complex, as a means to overshadow their insecurities, can be quite helpful though.

If used properly, it can be used to emphasis a certain thought that is the main point of your stream of consciousness. If that's not the case, it can also be used to summarize in a few words the whole point of your story. This gives the reader clarification and the writer a reference point when he or she has to defend or explain his or her thesis. 

Another form of writing is the overly long complex writing that serves no other purpose than to convey something easy as difficult as possible to create depth where there is little. 

Depth in thought is indeed very difficult to achieve. It is quite frustrating, I know from experience and sometimes even heartbreaking, when you have the feeling that words no longer have the power to carry your emotions and thoughts to the other with all the associations you have when using those words. 

This becomes even more complex when it's written text and all the emotions have to come from cold blocky letters printed against a white background. 

So what you then do to convey your words is to repeat yourself. If that doesn't help, you resort to going way too deep into the topic, to the point where you've completely digressed from the original topic. This too is quite understandable, but a pain to read. Mind numbing even. 

However, it is necessary to be nuanced. It is true that often people resort to this type of writing, because they have to convey long thoughts concerning topics that do need all the pages filled in order for the reader to understand it. That's however not what I'm talking about. Those books who do that don't outdo themselves. Those pages are necessary, because if you took pieces out of it, it would stop making sense or lose it's literary touch that differentiates the writers from other writers. The latter is of course a subjective insight that I can't go into depth to right now, because I want to keep the focus on the battle I'm experiencing. 

For the sake of practicality, let's say that when you can leave it out, it's unnecessary to write it down.

So between these two extremes, where should I place myself?

Does my problem even posit itself in this question or should I be asking myself a whole other question all together?

The words that I can associate with my restlessness are the following:

Unease, impatience and depth.

And immediately we can behold the problem. The eternal problem of contradiction that will probably follow me into the grave. Wanting two things that seem to essentially exclude each other. 

Depth and impatience that is, which consequently concludes to uneasiness. 

Epistemologie Paper: Objectie tegen de Cartesiaanse Demon

Epistemologie Paper 

Stelling:  ''Het is niet noodzakelijk om een onderscheid te maken tussen de noumenale en de fenomenale wereld.'' 

·         Objectie:  

Het onderscheid tussen de fenomenale en noumenale wereld is met een goede reden gemaakt. In de antieke traditie was het verschil noodzakelijk om de kennisvoorwaardes te formuleren voor ons kenvermogen. De reikwijdte van ons kennen werd gelimiteerd tot de zogeheten ''fenomenale'' wereld. Dit was de wereld zoals die zich aan ons presenteerde, wanneer men gebruik maakte van diens zintuigen. De noumenale wereld is datgene wat in de Platoonse traditie als de ware werkelijkheid gepostuleerd werd. Dit was de werkelijkheid die onafhankelijk van de zintuigen bestond. De vraag die nu noodzakelijk gevraagd moet worden is deze: 

''Hoe kan men zeker zijn dat dit onderscheid ook redelijkerwijs gemaakt mag worden?'' 

Het onderscheid werd in de antieke traditie door Plato gemaakt. Het feit dat men in het particuliere het vermogen had om het abstractere en daarbij het volmaaktere te kennen, gaf genoeg steun om aan te nemen dat het bestaan van het abstracte ook bestaansrecht had die men kon kennen, omdat hij reeds gekend was. In de anamnesis (herinnering) kreeg het subject een Aha-Erlebnis, omdat er overeenstemming kwam tussen dat wat op particuliere wijze werd waargenomen en een bepaalde eidos (Idee of Vorm) dat in het subject besloten zat. Het was dus epistemisch noodzakelijk om te spreken van twee werkelijkheden om een weg te kunnen vormen naar het ware kennen.  

Het dubium over de zintuigen is dus geplaats. De ware werkelijkheid is tot op een bepaalde hoogte via de zintuigen kenbaar, maar voor echte kennis behoort men in contemplatie te gaan naar de begrippen die het fenomenale kenbaar maken. De vraag is wederom, hoe kan je opgesloten in je eigen ik, met enkel de zintuigen tot je beschikking, überhaupt tot zekere kennis komen over de noumenale wereld? Plato zou antwoorden dat men behoort na te denken met datgene dat even los staat van de materie als de transcendente begrippen, namelijk de rede.  

Echter, er zit een probleem in Plato’s Ideeënleer, die van te veel axioma's uitgaat, die men niet kan rechtvaardigen. Bijvoorbeeld, hoe neemt het particuliere deel aan het abstracte? Als de Ideeën intern in ons kennen besloten liggen, dan is er niet meer sprake van externe inwerking en is daarbij de voorwaarde voor een externe, abstracte werkelijkheid geëlimineerd. Aristoteles heeft de problemen verder uitgewerkt en opgelost door het kenvermogen te beperken tot datgene wat Plato ''de vergankelijke werkelijkheid'' zou noemen.  

De zoektocht naar een objectie schrijdt voort richting René Descartes. Aristoteles heeft veel problemen van de metafysica en epistemologie opgelost door het kenvermogen te verschuiven naar de materiële wereld en het daartoe te beperken. Echter, deze verandering van metafysisch wereldbeeld komt met een prijs. De axioma, die per definitie de grootste twijfel teweeg brengt, is juist die aanname, die überhaupt Aristoteles' kenwereld mogelijk maakt: de verheerlijking van de zintuigen.  

Descartes gaat als rationalist tegen dit empirisme in. Hij contempleert en komt tot een radicale conclusie, die de epistemologie deed veranderen. Volgens hem was het initieel onmogelijk zeker te zijn over wat dan ook. De meditaties brachten twijfel en vragen teweeg. Kan het zo zijn dat we dromen? Of wellicht bedrogen worden door een demon, die ons de werkelijkheid als rechtvaardig, maar onwaar doet toeschijnen? De enige toegang tot de werkelijkheid, die we hebben zijn de zintuigen. Er is immers niks wat ons in staat stelt om zeker te zijn dat ook die zintuigen niet ons bedriegen. Het is daarom meer dan noodzakelijk dat er een onderscheid wordt gemaakt tussen de noumenale en fenomenale wereld om te kunnen twijfelen. Doen we dat niet, dan laten we de optie open dat we wellicht wel tot kennis kunnen komen die te rechtvaardigen is, maar die buiten ons kenvermogen, volledig mis is. 

·          Antwoord:

De filosoof die ik moet aanhalen bij de synthese tussen het enerzijds rationele probleem van ons kenvermogen, gepostuleerd door Descartes en anderzijds de empiristische, zoals Aristoteles, is Immanuel Kant. De versmelting manifesteert zich in het idee dat twee zaken noodzakelijk zijn om van kennis te kunnen spreken, namelijk het verstand en de waarneming. Beide zijn even noodzakelijk om kennis überhaupt mogelijk te kunnen maken. In het verstand zit structuren, die voorwaardea vormen om de a posteriori kennis mogelijk te maken. Ruimte en tijd zijn bijvoorbeeld nodig voor iets om kenbaar te zijn aan het verstand. Kant refereert naar dergelijke voorwaardes voor kennis als de categorieën. De categorieën kenmerken zich verder hierin dat ze eigenschappen zijn van het verstand en niet van de noumenale wereld. De categorieën vormen de reikwijdte van ons kenvermogen; ze maken het mogelijk, dat we premièrement in staat zijn van kennis te spreken. Echter, juiste deze zelfde categorieën vormen op ambigue wijze tegelijkertijd de grens van ons kenvermogen. Alles wat buiten de categorieën valt kan niet gekend worden door het verstand. Op deze wijze is het verstand begrensd en beperkt tot de fenomenale aanblikken van de werkelijkheid. 

Enfin, het is cruciaal om in te zien dat kennis enkel bestaat in overeenstemming, niet als een ontologische waarheidsbegrip.

Of zoals hijzelf mooi formuleert in Kritik der reinen Vernunft:

Begriffe ohne Anschauung sind leer, Anschauung ohne Begriffe ist blind

We hebben dus aangenomen van Kant dat kennis beperkt is tot de overeenstemming van de werkelijkheid met het verstand en dat op deze wijze alles wat buiten het verstand valt, wat hij het Ding an Sich noemt, noodzakelijkerwijs niet gekend kan worden.

Is het nu mogelijk om een objectie te geven aan het dubium van Descartes? Zeker.

Kant heeft zekerheid weten te geven aan de zintuigen, terwijl hij tegelijkertijd de twijfel van Descartes meebrengt op elegante wijze.

Zeker, we kunnen nooit het Ding an Sich kennen, de optie is open dat we bedrogen worden. Het kan dat buiten het kenvermogen van het verstand en de werkelijkheid, de noumenale wereld een leugen is.

Echter, wat Kant wel duidelijk maakt is dat we voor zover het kenvermogen ons toelaat, we een bepaalde mate van kennis kunnen vergaren, namelijk die binnen de categorieën van het verstand vallen.

Hierdoor borrelt bij mij dan de vraag op, waarom eigenlijk het onderscheid tussen twee werkelijkheden maken? Anders dan Plato, is de scheiding van de werkelijkheden niet eentje die metafysisch bestaansrecht hebben. Kant en Descartes postuleren de mogelijkheid van een noumenale wereld enkel als concept om de reikwijdte van het kennen te kunnen begrijpen, niet als transcendente volmaakte werkelijkheid.

En wanneer dus Kant de hypothese heeft gesteld van de fenomenale wereld en de noumenale wereld en hij heeft daarbij het kennen beperkt tot de fenomenale wereld, enkel ervan uitgaand dat de noumenale bestaat uit allerlei Dingen an Sich, dan is de noumenale wereld enkel ondersteund door de redenering die uitgaat van de noodzaak van een dergelijke wereld, omdat er anders niks is wat ons fenomenaal kan toeschijnen. Als dat de reden is dat het onderscheid gemaakt moet worden tussen een conceptuele noumenale wereld en een tastbare en bovenal epistemisch kenbare ‘fenomenale’ wereld, dan lijkt het me meer dan rationeel om het kennen te beperken juist tot die fenomenale wereld, omdat de notie van een noumenale wereld enkel tot onnodige redundantie leidt. Niet omdat het alleen praktisch is, maar omdat het categoriale kenvermogen dat van ons dwingt. 

The State I: Introduction

I've caught myself thinking these days as I was walking from work to home about certain things that have been bothering me these days. These little things that have annoyed me, have all bundled up into a collective annoyance and light hatred against humanity.
What an odd claim, isn't it? To say to you hate humanity at the pathetic age of 19.
'What humanity?' one might ask. 'The three people around you? That's your representation of humanity? Oh, please. What can you know of life, choice and humanity?'
Quite a common reaction one could say, one I often even get honestly. Frankly I can't blame them and I can see where they are coming from.
Still my instant reaction out of pride would be: 'Everything! I'm dedicating my life to reading, I spend my days in reflection, I try to understand, to know, to feel and to transcendente my current existence. Logically this would mean that my opinion is of more worth, right? Since I am making the sacrifice of trying to think in nuances, with the aim to understand, not to convince. It is only logical to say that relative to all this black and white thinking, my thoughts are worth listening to. I have the answers. I know what to do. My ideals will guide us there. It's just that you don't want to listen, goddammit!'
As you see, pride plays a big role inside of me. No matter how much I twist or turn it, I can't keep myself from burning inside when I catch someone in disagreement, after I've given an opinion or a statement that I have put so much effort into.
How dares that person not see the billiance and nuances? How dares he or she still vastly want to swim inside a milky, muddy, turbid lake, when there is me, who can give them a clear and sparkly ocean?
Pride and hybris can be such a cockblock to any conversation. It causes me to loose my rationality, I grow furious, I explode in anger, I damn the humans for not wanting to understand. To say it another way, how dare they not understand me? Me and my thoughts, who just want to preserve those values, that guarantee the integrity and dignity of every single human life. Isn't it good enough that I want the best for them?
Oddly enough, pride is also something I've worked hard on gaining and keeping. On a positive note for example, I am happy I am so proud. It makes me want to transcendente whoever I am at the moment, even if that means taking distance from a statement I hold onto dearly for the sake of gaining a better understanding of the world.
I've associated pride with those thinkers who had ideals and were not afraid of persuading them. They have made their own ideals into gods they worship, ideals that I am so proud of having. Ideals unfortunately that consist out of paradoxes.

Right now there is no denying that there is a clash going on in the world in terms of morality. Terms as freedom, free will, offense and justice have gotten a new understanding to them. To me it seems that these terms mostly present themselves into contradictions. Either side or interpretation of these terms clashes with the other side,  therefore making the existence überhaupt impossible.
For example, is it possible to become so free, that we become unfree? Is this a complete wrong actualisation of the Camus' quote in which he asked us to become so free that our freedom becomes an act of rebellion? Why does it feel, that every stranger I meet and see suffocates me more than ever? Is the age? Is it my character or is it our new understanding of freedom?
I have to be clear that I am a sceptical when it comes to giving generalising statements regarding a certain trend. There are always exceptions, let that be clear. I solely speak of those that fall inside the category I speak of. 
I can say that the general crowd is suffocating me, that I am afraid of speaking my mind, because I know that the complete freedom, causes some form of restriction. It is not possible to be completely free, in the sense that the existentialists meant. Freedom, in the sense that we are damned to freedom and have to create our life. The so called "My freedom begins, where yours ends"-mentality.
Is time changing and have we become so free, that we are suffocating each other? What if we need less freedom in one sense, to enlarge the freedom elsewhere?
Namely the freedom to make mistakes. It seems that our new interpretation of freedom has caused us to become more strict when it comes to respecting each and every individual. Democracy is at its peak, everyone is a part of the system. It has been celebrated enough, I am the first to rise, when it comes to applauding democracy. But isnt it also time to highlight the ambiguity? The contradictions that exist when we make certain ideals into absolutes? This can lead to serious problem, especially when the people leading the world at the moment are not leading the will of the crowd in accordance to the rationality of the politician, but that the politicians themselves are falling into peacock behaviour.
There is an illusion that saying whatever you like is performed by all. However, only in accordance to what most want. Being politically correct, but insofar as it is redeemed okay by those leading the media.
Neo-conservatism with other words, but dipped in a sauce of liberty.
Isn't that a paradox? This has made me scared of writing. I fear to make mistakes out of scare of offending someone. This so called new notion of freedom, has made me want to shut my mouth close. Never saying anything, because the term "offense" in relation to "freedom" has lost so much meaning, that I don't dare to say what I want.
I am not going to lie, I feel very detached from the world.

However, I have often seen myself as a reasonable person. Since I believe I am in a minority, I have more than enough reason to reconsider everything I said. Perhaps there is more to it. 
Maybe it is in our right to be offended. It shows progress in first world countries, since it's explication of individualism. He, who can be offended, has dignity that can be touched. He who has dinity has been acknowledged by society as an individual, who's worth existence.
Then who am I to go against this basic human right? A right that has been created in our era of Enlightenment, the right to be provided in our most basic human needs, the right to study, to have freedom of speech etc.
Me giving any form of criticism that offends society is a stab against those ideals, isn't it?
My reply to this, is a clear no. If there is anything I admire in the world, it is the progress the western civilisation has made when it comes to the notion of human rights. 
I would never say those ideals are wrong, if anything, liberté, égalité and fraternité are what I redeem one of the core principles of my ideal state. So, what is actually my concern? 
To put it clearly, I have the fear that people have become too proud. 
In the beginning I’ve stated my own pride as something I see as a restriction, but also progressive. I am glad I am proud. I am proud that I am proud in my thoughts and opinions and I don’t expect anything else from the world.
This is however the case, my pride served as an analogy as to what has angred me. The hate I carry against humanity, is a hate that I don’t oversee from a higher point. It is something that I recognize.
Not only that, but this pride ignites anger and rage, that is self destructive. And it creates the most inhumane acts known to man, the inability to think. Therefore, letting yourself get carried by those who can fulfill your need to satisfy your pride. I can only name 1939 as a number to spark your memory. 
And I know that we will go down in history as a dark age, if we do not realise the ambiguity of our pride, the ambiguity of our freedom and let ourselves be carried by egocentric pride. 

Empirisme vs Rationalisme

Als liefhebber van Plato neig ik ernaar de rationele weg de voorkeur te geven, omdat Socrates gelijk heeft dat de vergankelijke wereld een schijnbeeld van zekerheid kan opwekken bij de individu. Denk hierbij aan een stok die je in het water steekt, waarna een deuk in de stok gevormd wordt. In wezen is de stok recht en door te rationaliseren kom je logischerwijs ook op die conclusie.  

Ik betwijfel het bestaan van een Ideeënwereld die hij poneert, maar wat ik niet kan ontkennen aan het denkvermogen van de mens is dat wij inderdaad de gewenning hebben om waarneembare zaken te bestempelen met diverse labels. Iets is Goed, iets is Mooi, iets is Rechtvaardig, enz.  

Wat de reden hiertoe ook moge zijn, deze begrippen worden in het alledaagse leven gehanteerd, om een referentiekader te vormen voor ons wereldbeeld, hoewel je het Goede of het Mooie of het Rechtvaardige niet als op zichzelf staande begrippen kan aanwijzen.  

Plato heeft in de abstracte zin van ons waarnemen zeker gelijk, zou ik zeggen. De Ideeën bestaan, zij het niet enkel in ons hoofd dat enkel in ordeningen kan nadenken.  

De empiristen daarentegen hebben een aards beeld over de werkelijkheid en kunnen op die wijze een hogerstaande werkelijkheid afwijzen, waardoor de focus ligt op datgene wat het meest prominent aan ons voorhanden ligt, namelijk de materie en de werking daarvan.  

Het nadeel van deze methode is echter wel dat je enkel kan redeneren tot aan het beginpunt van de potentieel waarneembare werkelijkheid (denk aan The Big Bang) en tot aan de begrenzing ervan, waardoor je vastzit in een kader van zintuigelijke waarnemingen. 

Voor de empirist die een oorzaak der allen dingen afwijst, zal dit geen probleem vormen en zal hij genoegen nemen met die kader van de werkelijkheid.  

Echter voor de rationalisten in de wereld, die de beweegreden en oorzaak der ontstaan van dingen willen kunnen begrijpen, is dit niet voldoende. Dit ongenoegen noemde Plato al in de Phaedo.  

Tot gevolg dat wellicht de natuurkundige wetenschap volledig wordt afgewezen om een andere richting tot onderzoek te nemen.  

(Zie citaat) 

''Ik zou heel graag in de leer gegaan zijn bij om het even wie die me kon leren hoe het met zo'n oorzaak gesteld is. Maar die oorzaak bleef me verborgen: ik was niet in staat ze zelf te ontdekken en kon ze evenmin van anderen leren. (d) En zo heb ik dan bij het zoeken naar een oorzaak het over een andere boeg gegooid.'' 

Goed, we hebben dus twee uitersten geconstateerd in het dialoog. Eentje van het ultiem empirisme dat enkel de oorzaken van de werkelijkheid op zich behandeld, dat wil zeggen een descriptieve uitleg van de wereld, dat enkel zover gaat als de waarneming toelaat.  Vervolgens eentje die de wereld omvat in een weerspiegeling van een absolute werkelijkheid, wat men rationalisme noemt.  

De voorkeur die ik geef baseer ik op het idee dat er in beide ideeën een kern van waarheid existeert, dat zichzelf op een dusdanige manier moet ontwikkelen waardoor de botsing opgeheven wordt.  

Het empirisme bakent de werkelijkheid wegens natuurkundige principes af, wat logisch is wanneer je realiseert dat de mensheid zelf deel uitmaakt van die genoemde werkelijkheid. Ik zie het als gegeven dat wij binnen deze vier muren van waarneming gelimiteerd zijn om kennis te hebben over de zaken zoals ze op zich zijn. Bestaan in deze wereld staat gelijk aan deel uitmaken van deze wereld. Het overstijgen is lastig en misschien onmogelijk, want hoe hard we het proberen ook aan ons gelden de natuurkundige wetten.  

Maar daarentegen beschikt de mensen over een rijk, die zich wellicht ontleent aan de empirische werkelijkheid, maar zich niet ertoe limiteert.  

De fantasie. Een plek die ik zie als broedplaats voor de nieuwsgierigheid, waardoor de mens zich aan het dierlijke onttrekt en vormgeving geeft aan zijn individu.  

En in hier meen ik dat de rationaliteit het meest te pas komt. Het empirisme mag dan wel de werkelijkheid in formules en descripties beschrijven, het rationalisme verfijnt het op een dusdanige manier dat het aan de mens een reflectie vormt van zijn positie in de wereld en hoe hij ermee om kan gaan.  

Twee methodes die gepaard moeten gaan om ons te helpen bestaan.

Desperation

Short Story

I have never experienced the horrors of prison, but had I; it wouldn't be any different from my current life. I hate my life, all of it, the slow pace, the ignorance that is floating around, overwhelming me, no, slowly eating me away, like a parasite. Every inch of me falling into oblivion and gradually being consumed by this tiny parasite that has manifested itself into the core of my soul, leaving nothing behind but emptiness.
Yes, life is hell, a never ending hell that has solely one torture in mind for me; as if it was specially selected for me. Iteration, endless, mindless, ignorant, oblivious iteration; forcing myself to wake up, forcing myself to sleep, doing my tasks in a continual cycle of life. Making myself get adjust to this mindset in life, although I can't discriminate myself from who I was and who I am now.
Yesterday was today and today will be tomorrow; always the same morning always the same evening, always the same dreadful night.
During the early morning, I stand once again in the kitchen and prepare food for a lazy bastard who can still not pronounce my name correctly. I cringe every time I hear him say my name in that deep grunting voice, that always seems to be short of breath, with a slight slur to finish it off. "Sedaf...my tea." I hear him moan from the other room. I close my eyes for a second. His groans and puffing make me lose my appetite. Sedaf, Sedaf, Sedaf. Indeed my slave name is Sedaf. My real name is Sadaf.
With a cup of tea filled with enough sugar to provide a whole chocolate factory, 2 eggs, bread, milk and cheese I am sit next to him. He attacks his food like a foul pig, stuffing all the ingredients in his mouth at once, turning and twisting it with excessive saliva and washing it all away with his tea. I smile tenderly at him and stroke my hair to one side. "Sweetheart, should I bring you something else? A piece of extra bread.. coffee? Perhaps a little bit more, to stuff your tummy t?" You piece of garbage.
He looks at me with empty eyes and mindlessly shakes his head. Then he takes a look at me from top to bottom. I might as well be naked by the way he looks "You ain't eating?" and I shake my head. "I..." Before I can say more, the television is turned on with the sound blasting loudly an indication for me to be quiet and leave.

Good.

I go off to the kitchen. I have accepted it. No, there is indeed no escaping from this prison. Denial is pointless. I will live here, die here and rot here. For me this home is my state and that man, whom I call ‘husband’, is my master, father, mother and brother, all at once and much more. I adore him. Yes, I love him. I love him.
Whenever I feel I have the privilege to contemplate my existence, I remind myself there is no place in my life for happiness or sadness.
Only survival.
At those rare moments I do contemplate I tell myself:
"My dear sweetheart, does it even matter whether it is you touching yourself in the shower, with the thoughts of a stranger in your head, or the forceful penetration of your husband?"
Those times, I tell myself, when the light of my cigarette is the only thing illuminating the room:
"My dear, my love, it is all the same."
And yes, that is indeed the only explanation I can give myself.
Whether it's the pain of the mind caused by a love one without her intention or the pain of the devil, who awaits to punish me some more every night,
I can see nothing, but the darkness of inner core my mind, bouncing back to me from the others due to my impure thoughts and acts.
And for some reason, even the enjoyment of this cigarette disappears and it becomes as foul and bitter as my mind.
"The better", I sigh and I inhale deeply, as tears drip from my cheeks.

Lucky for me the sound of the TV is loud enough for him to not hear me hit my head against the wall.