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Capture heart of the young womanWhen I signed up for Introduction to Philosophy at Laney College, it was my intention to learn more about the subject to both understand the articles that others submitted as well as write more thoughtful and probing articles myself. I have always engaged in a sort of armchair philosophy, though most of it was amateur and ignorant of past thinkers. I think I have accomplished my goal, at least in part. I have learned that my constant need to question almost everything and to play devil¡¯s advocate has a name, philosophy, and it has previous practitioners such as Secretes. Some of the results of the class might be viewed as bad, or evil. I entered the class as an agnostic I believed there was a supreme force or superior being(s), but I didn¡¯t know what to call him/her/them/ its, or even how to describe hi,/her/them/its. I am leaving the class bordering on atheism rather than bordering on religion as I entered. I now only see a possibility for a higher power, having no real opinion of it. How could I have an opinion of it? I have never met it, or seen any of its acts, or seen any of its acts, or had it speak to me. In addition, the intense re-evaluation that philosophy values is responsible for this shift. I no longer believe in the word love. What I previously thought was love was not. ¡°Love¡± as I now understand it, means nothing. It is merely a matter of definition, but more important than all of that, philosophy class gives me a reason to think. Thinking hurts and questioning ones beliefs in painful. Man does not want to do it. Living with the status quo is easier then trying to change it. But now I can¡¯t go back ignorance and complacency. I¡¯ve caught the fever of the ruth, or at least have been thoroughly disgusted with lies, and can¡¯t go back.
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In life there are many beautiful things, the dew on a flower in the morning, the sun setting over the ocean, a rainbow after a summer shower, but I would have to say from my limited experience of beautiful watching someone sleep is the epitome of beauty. When you watch someone sleep, you see them for who they are and not for what they want you to see. There are no hidden mysteries about the person, it is just them. I was lucky enough to experience this great event recently. I was so taken back by her that I just wanted to be close to her. I really cannot put into wourds the way I felt about her, but I think the closest thing to describing the feeling would be like a childhood crush. I did not talk to her when I first met her. Just long enough to give me her name a number, which I put in my picket. I thought that it was over, but when I put my hand in my pocket and found a piece of paper with the name and room number of a girl I met the previous day. I decided to go visit the girl. Now normally I would never do anything as stupid as this when my head is clear but doing stupid things is what makes life interesting, plus it builds character, or that is what they tell me. There I am in front of this girl¡¯s room who I have no idea who she is. Wearing clothes that were a little less then flattering at that moment in time. I knocked on her door and she slowly opened it. Looked at me with recollection, she invited me in. I walked in timid at first as the memories of the first meeting came to me, like waves crashing on a sand castle I built so long ago. When I finally got everything in order in my mind, I moved to sit on the bed and we started the old primitive way of communication, speech. We talk about this and we talk about that . Nothing really earth shattering, but thenormal getting-to-know-you stuff that we all go though when we first meet someone. I talk about myself and she talks about herself. After many cigarettes and much self exploration, I go up to leave, O promised her I would see her later. Now the fun begins because I can¡¯t look to pressed over her but I can¡¯t look so indifferent that she loses interests in me. Now normally I would wait something like five day to call her, that industry standard, but in luau of this; golden rule to get woman which I ignored and I went to visit her the next day, we hang out again, still getting to know each other. Same thing really, this time I am asking questions to find out what I desire to know. About her family, life, town, stuff you rally don¡¯t go up to a complete stranger and tell them. I left around dinnertime and go hang out with my friends. Later in that night I am telling my friend about how much I like this girl, I point out her room, and being the great person he is he goes up her window and told her to come out and play. We were supposed to go play pool in the pub but that idea go scratched. We ended up sitting and taling, not hat I mind it at all I rally love talking to people, getting to know them rally well. The talking goes on for about two hours them, my friend gets an insane craving for food at 1100p.m.. He leaves us and ware left to talk. There we are for about thirty minutes when we realize that he is not coming back. She invites me to her room, we watch some TV and she falls asleep and I get ready to leave trying not to disturb her, sit up in bed glance over to her, eyes taking in the sight that took my breath away, seeing her sleep. So peaceful, so helpless. I try to pull my gaze away but it ¡¯s like a magnet that is pulling me in. I have to look at her. The rise and fall of her chest as her breaths, not worrying about a thing, the smile that is on her face as she is a million miles away dreaming about something. To put in to words I do not have the ability to express what it looks like, other then it is breath taking. In my heart, I know that I have found what makes life worth living. Seen the beauty those poets write about, artists paint about, their ¡°Donna Angelica.¡± The dreams that lovers dream about, watching someone sleep, is something thing that I wish everyone could experience at least once. Sweet Dreams.. Is it wrong to create art for reasons other than creating art? Stories abound of young men writing poems to catch a certain young lady¡¯s eye and heart, but is this wrong Talk to ¡°real¡± artists, and they¡¯ll most likely claim to create art for art¡¯s sake. Is this use of art more noble than art as a means to an end? I would like to say that it is not, that art is justified for any reason. But what do I know.. I don¡¯t consider myself an artist. I guess I¡¯m one of the young men writing my feelings down to capture the heart of a young woman. There has to be an easier way at letting people gets to know you than baring you soul in the pages of a low-circulation magazine. However, if there is, I¡¯m not privy to it. I¡¯m not good at socializing. Big group frighten me. I am not comedian enough to be the center of attention, and I wouldn¡¯t want to be even if I could. So this is my way of opening up to the world. I hope I have not scared you, and I thank you for staying with me.
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