Maybe.

existential breakdowns during cross country practice:

nomindallthought:

instead of motivational messages in your head like “Come on!  You can do it!”  you have glorious thoughts along the lines of “THIS RUN IS AS PURPOSELESS, PAINFUL, AND MEANINGLESS AS YOUR FUCKING LIFE IS”

Philosophy Joke 4

Descartes is sitting at a bar. The bartender comes over and asks, “Can I get you a drink?” To which Descartes replies, “I think not” and promptly disappears.

Philosophy Joke 3

An older Jewish gentleman marries a younger lady and they are very much in love. However, no matter what the husband does sexually, the woman never achieves orgasm. Since a Jewish wife is entitled to sexual pleasure, they decide to ask the rabbi.

The rabbi listens to their story, strokes his beard, and makes the following suggestion: “Hire a strapping young man. While the two of you are making love, have the young man wave a towel over you. That will help the wife fantasize, and should bring on an orgasm.”

They go home and follow the rabbi’s advice. They hire a handsome young man, and he waves a towel over them as they make love. But it doesn’t help, and she is still unsatisfied. Perplexed, they go back to the rabbi.

“Okay”, says the rabbi, “Let’s try it again, only reversed. Have the young man make love to your wife, and you wave the towel over them.”

Once again, they follow the rabbi’s advice. The young man gets into bed with the wife, and the husband waves the towel. The young man gets to work with great enthusiasm and the wife soon has an enormous, room-shaking, screaming orgasm.

The husband smiles, looks at the young man and says to him triumphantly, “Schmuck; THAT’S the way to wave a towel!”

- ( This is a logic joke referring to the idea of the “Post hoc ergo propter hoc,” or in other words: “After this, therefore, because of this.” Correlation, not causation.) 

Another example would be: ” ‘Most people hooked on heroine started with marijuana.’ True, but even more started with milk.” 

- ( Plato and a Platypus)

Philosophy Joke 2 

“An optimist thinks that this is the best of all possible worlds.

 A pessimist fears that this is so.”

- Plato and a Platypus ( Leibniz argued that this world is the greatest world because God is all-powerful and morally perfect. He did not deny that there is no evil; rather, he stated that for God to have created the world in any other way would have resulted in even more evil. Hence, the joke.)

Philosophy joke 1

A ninety-year-old man went to the doctor and said, “Doctor, my eighteen-year-old wife is expecting a baby.”

  The doctor said, “Let me tell you a story.  A man went hunting, but instead of a gun, he picked up an umbrella by mistake.  When a bear suddenly charged at the man, he picked up the umbrella, shot the bear, and killed it.

  ”The man said, “Impossible.  Someone else must have shot the bear.”

  The doctor said, “My point exactly.”

- Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar(So how is this related to philosophy? It’s supposed to illustrate the concept of “Argument from Analogy” - which basically says that if two outcomes are similar, they must have a similar cause)

xistentialtheory replied to your post: So I finally decided to check out Stanford’s…

Being a nihilist doesn’t mean that nothing matters to YOU. It means that you recognize that nothing has any ultimate consequence, and thus that what matters to you does not actually matter in the grand scheme of things. Things can still matter to you

Just to clarify, I was totally joking. 

I’m not familiar with every nook and cranny of Nihilism; however, I’m aware that existential nihilism rejects any objective meaning to life, so yeah, basically we agree with each other. That’s cool, I think. 

So I finally decided to check out Stanford’s supplemental short essays.

I read question 1, and I was like, “Alright, that’s not difficult to write about.”

Question 2, and I start thinking “This should be interesting.”

Then I get to the third question.

3. “What matters to you and why?”

* Just decided to label myself as a nihilist/absurdist *

FUCK. 

Reblog if you’ve been told you have nice boobs.

freehugsforfree:

I just felt like you guys should know.

….Well….how do I explain….

So I got a 5 on the AP English Exam….

and I didn’t take the class.

Well that’s enlightening…

“And why would I ever do such a thing?”

George took no pleasure in the movies. Nor did he find solace in his daily activities. He was a lonesome man, to the say the least. Rarely did he speak, and when he did speak, he only spoke of two things: philosophy and death. He was a contemplator, and a mighty fine one too. Never had he read a single work of philosophy by the time he was twenty-five years old, and already had he formulated theories in accordance with those of philosophers for the past two millennia. He was now thirty years old. So when young Martha offered him a chance to the movies, George merely responded with a question: “And why would I ever do such a thing?” and went on his way.

            The following day George awoke to the sounds of beating on his walls. He got up like he was supposed to, went to the door like he was supposed to, and opened it just as he was supposed to. A police officer informed him that the previous night there had been an explosion in the local movie theatre and because of the quickly spreading fumes, all residents of the town were being forced to evacuate. George was not fond of the situation. This was his only home, and he had neither relatives nor friends. Nowhere to go, really. So when the police officer told him to hurry, he merely responded with a question: “And why would I ever do such a thing?” and went back in to his home like he wasn’t supposed to, closed the door like he wasn’t supposed to, and sat down on his couch like he wasn’t supposed to.

He then waited. An hour passed. Nothing happened. Two hours passed. Nothing happened. Three hours passed. Nothing happened. Finally, after about 7 hours, he decided to open his door and he looked out into his neighborhood and saw absolutely no one. Some doors had been left open and some cars had been left unattended, but no one was to be seen. There was no smoke. And even if there was, it didn’t really pose any danger, so George went back in his home and went back to sitting on his couch. That’s when he realized his fantasies had finally become reality.  Not only was he free from the sight of other humans, but he had an entire town to do whatever he pleased. So he began to walk around the town, like he’d normally do, except this time without seeing anyone else. At first, it was quite pleasurable, but as time went on, he didn’t really like it. He tried again the next day. It was even less pleasurable. The day after that, he tried again one more time, and it was even less pleasurable than the day before. Then he’d finally realized that all of his fantasies were merely ideals that fooled him into this disillusioned state of happiness, and upon realizing this he ran from the town, ran as far as he could and as quickly as he could and went on as long as he could until he couldn’t breathe any longer. He then fell to the ground out of exhaustion and passed out in the beaming sun.

When George woke up he felt a massive pain in his head and found himself lying in a bed in someone’s house. He tried to move, but every motion caused a massive pain to surge throughout his entire body. Soon afterwards, a woman entered the room and exclaimed: “Oh my! You’re awake. You were knocked out cold back there, and I lucky found you so beaten up. Would you like anything, say a glass of water or maybe some crackers?” to which George only responded: “Am I dead?” and then went back to sleep. Some time later, George woke up again, this time with energy in his muscles and some motivation to move. So he got up from his bed, left the house, and went for a walk.  On his walk, he encountered the woman again, this time with some companions. She let out a scream of joy and told George she was going to the town’s annual music exhibition. George was never very fond of music. So when this woman offered George a chance to the showing, he merely responded with a question: “And why would I ever do such a thing?” and went on his way.

            Some three hours later, George heard a loud explosion while sitting on the woman’s couch. He immediately realized what happened and knew the same events would occur. And they did. This time, however, George decided to evacuate. So he safely followed the crowd of people who left their belongings in order to escape from the fumes, which George knew would cause any damage, anyways. While walking, he met another man who seemed to be well aware of the situation and decided to inform George of what he was supposed to do in these kinds of events. When he heard George had come along with no possessions, the man placed the gun in George’s pocket, causing George to feel a bit uncomfortable. The rest of the walk was somewhat dull. There were around 1,000 people in the crowd. After about three hours, they reached the nearest city, and immediately took vacancy in the motels set up just for situations like these. George wondered how anyone would know this kind of situation would ever occur, but he let the idea recede as he fell asleep in one of the beds in the motel.

            The following morning George woke up, this time peacefully, and actually found himself quite content for the first time in a while. He’d escaped death twice, and now he was waking up in a motel far away from home, with people who he could at least enjoy himself in the presence of. For the first time in a while, George formed a genuine smile on his face and couldn’t help but take a shower, something he hadn’t done in years. It seemed as everything that had happened in the past few days culminated in these few moments of joy. After his shower, George felt more refreshed than ever before, and while putting on his clothes, he remembered the gun in his pocket. He wondered if he’d ever need to use it. He’d never even felt a gun before, and now he had one in his pocket. He didn’t mind it there, so he kept it, with the slightest idea that maybe it’d be useful for something some day. Then, as he opened the door, he began to smell some fumes. He also noticed the doors of the other rooms were open and no one was to be found. As George ran down the hall, the smell grew stronger, and he began to feel a bit dizzy. He finally reached the stairs, and when he looked down, he found himself more full of fear than he’d ever been before. Flames. That was all he could see. Massive flames burning through the walls and flying up the stairs at an incredibly quick speed. Stunned, a million thoughts flew through George’s head all at once. After recovering from his shock, He searched for windows on his floor. There were none to be found. The elevator didn’t seem to be functioning, and the only way to escape would be to go down through the stairs. George was not a courageous man, though. So he retreated to the far end of the hall, and he waited for the flames to reach his floor, burn through every room, and finally engulf him in a fiery hell. It was all he could think of. And that is exactly what happened. The flames reached his floor, passed through every room, destroyed everything in its path, and finally reached George. He first felt the fire melt his shoes, then crawl up his pants as every hair on his body crumbled into ash, and finally let out a scream as it passed over his heart. He could feel his skin melting, his insides liquefying, his blood gurgling. He knew death had finally reached him. And at the exact moment that he accepted his death, he felt something grab him by the arm and pull him through the flames, down the stairs, and out the motel into the fresh air of the Earth.

It was the same man that had given him the gun. This man that he had conversed with for a matter of minutes had sacrificed his own life to save the life of someone as worthless as George. It was this moment in which George truly felt enlightened. He knew he had been accepted by humanity as a whole, and he knew now exactly why he had gone through these circumstances and what he had been trying to accomplish all this time. So when the man yelled at George and demanded, not offered, that he enter the ambulance and get to the nearest hospital, George merely responded with a question: “And why would I ever do such a thing?” He then took the gun out of his pocket, held it to his head, and pulled the trigger. Pieces of his brain scattered across the ground, and blood came rushing out like a waterfall, but he was not dead. No, he still had some things to say. So he yelled out his final words, but they weren’t really words, because the mixture of bodily fluids in his mouth suffocated him and all he could do was gurgle out blood. Then he died. No one heard his last words. They were probably important. Maybe he’d found something worth mentioning that he needed to tell someone right as he pulled the trigger, or maybe he’d discovered that he wasn’t actually meant to die at that moment, but there’s no point in dwelling on the past…because, really, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. Nothing really mattered. Nothing really mattered at all…and nothing ever will matter.