To Quote a Friend: "A Blog, About Blogs"

Okay, okay. I know I just now posted, but whilst doing so a thought came into my head that I don't feel like saving to share later. It's small, coarse and perhaps endearing enough to be suspicious, but that's everything a blog post should be, right? Which brings me right into the matter at hand.
Blogs are such an interesting format for people to be channeling their thoughts into. Blogs are seemingly uncommon and-of-the-way enough that when we write in them we are confident that readers and friends won't venture from the downtown of facebook and texting far enough to reach the suburbs where our blogs reside and so we take on a certain amount of intimacy and sincerity with our reader (which we are sure will never come), that we lack in our status updates and photo comments.
Yet we have not wholly forgotten that we are on the internet for heavens sake, we do not go so far as to cross the threshold into diary land (at least not most of us) and it is this which makes blogs so wonderfully different from so many other writing outlets. The idea that someone might, that someone conceivably could search out or stumble across our stash of harvested thoughts, it is this which gives us the feeling of obligation to keep our posts coherent, somewhat relevant and organized. It is also this possibility that keeps us posting and attempting to keep our posts fresh, interesting, and intelligent. It's exciting to wonder who our ghost audience might be and to try and prompt them into giving comments and starting discussion.
Yep, blogs sure are crazy. I think what it comes down to is that we humans like to be peeked in on. We actually kind of want people to see us somewhat exposed, and for many people, their blog is a window, through which they bring to light, perhaps not their deepest and darkest,but certainly many of their more abstruse thoughts, hoping a few people might be spying in on them.

Perhaps a Little Too Snobbish a Thing to Say

Many people are in the habit of having notions that they want to believe so much that they just build their philosophy around--or subscribe to a philosophy that fits well with--these notions. I am going to tentatively point this out as a typical habit in "western" thinking.
Another way of pointing this out would be to say, we typically feel a great amount of guilt for a great amount of the things that we do, but rather than change these things we would seek to justify them, in such marvelously ingenious ways, that we come out fooling even our own selves.

An Apology or: How I learned to stop being frustrated by Wikipedia's cursory articles (on art and literature) and recognize them as manifestations of my high probability of enjoying the art, on which those certain articles had been written

At times I find myself exceedingly frustrated when I hear or read about a film, book, or any piece of art that I find worth looking into, but upon turning to Wikipedia, I find that the article cannot adequately explain whatever it is that I am looking up! My mentality at these times usually goes something like this,

"I'm a busy man! I need to know what art is worth spending my time on! And G-D-it, Wikipedia, it's your job to help sort it out for me!"

It's ironic (and worth noting) that I simultaneously can think this and also understand that any piece of art that I am personally likely to classify as "great" will capture a concept in a way that will not be able to be explained adequately and will only be fully understood upon viewing and comprehending the piece itself.

In other words, the things that I find "inadequately" explained on Wikipedia (I say "things" meaning art) are likely to be the things that I will most enjoy. So I apologize, Wikipedia, for thinking that you were slacking off. Keep up the good work.

Objectivism and Torch Bats

To make a long story short, a little over two years ago I read Ayn Rand's Anthem in Elventh Grade English. This was my first introduction into any "real" philosophy and the extreme individualist ideas portrayed in the book fit well with all my afore made conclusions--in which, I think it is appropriate to mention, my conservative background played no small part. Needless to say, I quickly latched on to Objectivism (the philosophy founded and taught by Ayn Rand)--and being, at the time, an even more avid reader than I am now (if it is possible)--I rapidly devoured all of Ayn Rand's fiction in no time, washing them down with many an objectivist essay.
As I'm sure any one of my friends will tell you, at this time I was an insufferable zealot who tried, at every opportunity, to shove in some sermon on "rationality" or "the importance of selfishness" into the casual conversation or heated forum debate. However, after a matter of months my zeal subsided and I stopped searching out youtube philosophy wars and objectivist celebrities. Since this time I have researched and have become acquainted with many philosophies and my readings have strayed far and wide from the straight and narrow that John Galt would like to have seen me walk, however, like the old, faded and long outgrown aquabats tee shirt hanging in my closet, I cannot bring my self to simply discard it and walk away.
Maybe it's fond sentimentality towards my first philosophic harbor, maybe it's the time and energy that was invested in it that makes it hard for me to drop it for good, or maybe I think that it's still good for something: that there's still some life left in it. I think that I had a thought just now that sums it up perfectly, this connection that I still feel with my objectivist roots comes from the fact that I don't really want to lead a John Galt or Howard Roark life, but I would like to live in a world where someone could, if they liked.
I think it is also worth mentioning here that I saw the afore mentioned tee shirt being worn by my little brother this morning, maybe someday he'll pick up The Fountainhead too.

Haiku #1

The boy on the bike
as I mowed the new grass
looked back at me

Cover that cover

This is a plea to book publishers everywhere; a plea for you to stop ruining perfectly good books with awful book covers. Look, I know that it's superficial and ridiculous of me, but I have and will continue to judge books by their covers and when, the other day, I traveled to the local book store and saw one of my favorite  books with a horrendous cover, I thought of all the poor people who may never read that book just because of some photoshopped fire behind a silhouette. So once more I am imploring that if you are in doubt about what to wrap a book with, just stick a blank white cover on it, with the title and author printed neatly in black on the center.
Thank you.