Now More Happier.



There are 4 real days of school left. After that, 4 half days of exams. Then a week of no school until graduation.

I feel a lot less sad about it than I thought I would, and more expectant. Maybe because now things are actually happening, instead of me feeling like I'm waiting for something that just won't come. Yes, I'm going to be leaving a place that I love and a lot of people I really like, but I'll be doing so in the best possible way - going, all of us, happily towards a bright future.

I'll do a real update sometime soon.


"What are you drinking?" "Misery."

That's probably one of the most brilliant things I've ever said. I just don't remember it.

That aside, I feel an odd mixture of greatness and pain and fatigue right now. A lot of it stems from the tennis tournament. I didn't do as well as I'd hoped in singles, getting knocked out (7-5, 4-6, 2-6 for anyone who cares) by a guy I waxed in the regular season (6-3, 6-2). I could make a lot of excuses, I guess, but in the end he played well and I did not, so he won. I did pretty much as well as I'd hoped to in doubles, making it all the way to the finals after knocking out a Windsor team (6-0, 6-3) and a Franklin team (7-5, 6-4). Then we got crushed (1-6, 0-6) by another Windsor team who were, frankly, just too damned good. We made tournament runner up, which was nice. Aside from a trophy and amazingly sore thighs, I picked up a nice bit of sunburn which will hopefully become an awesome tan.

I've almost finished The Rebel and will soon have nothing to read.

I'm going to court on Monday for a reckless driving ticket.

Tomorrow should be fun, but you don't get to read about that.


Daniel the Hedonist

This all stems from an internet quiz I took a few days ago (which can be found here) which helps you to see what philosophies you subscribe to. I scored as 75% strong egoism and 65% existentialism. Neither of which is surprising, considering I just finished two Rand books and I've been on something of an existentialist kick for awhile. What's surprising is that I also scored as 75% hedonist. After some thought, though, it makes sense and demonstrates an interesting blend of existentialist and egoist (or objectivist) thought.

One of the things I've picked up from reading existentialist books is that one chooses what one is. It is important to remember that there is a fundamental difference in what one wants to be (I want to be have the physique of a Greek god and fly, that does me no good) but rather what one chooses (I choose to play tennis and write high-brow blog posts; this determines my reality). In the same vein, one chooses (sometimes despite what one wants) whether they feel happy, sad, ambivalent or something else.

And then there's Rand's Objectivism, the main belief of which could be stated as: "Reason is the only absolute and one's happiness their only goal." Which can be a rather hedonist point of view, obviously.

This leads to an odd blend, wherein one can take pleasure in not only pleasure, but the quest for it as well. Essentially, enjoying the journey just as much as the destination. The hedonist that learns to do this, to enjoy the moments of quiet and solitude amid his pleasures, has truly mastered himself. The pleasure-seeker who finds his pleasure in the seeking is a king among men.

For the record, I blame these last two posts partially on The Rebel. Camus does this to me.



I'm not sure why, really, but recently I've felt a mighty angst. Which is severely atypical and actually a rather recent (and sobering) revelation. I don't classify this as teen angst, however, because I'm perfectly happy as far as my home life goes. I like being at home, I like my mom, I like school and I like, really, life in general. So the cause of my angst is not based in authority. Therefore I would not classify it as typical teen angst.

Existentialist angst is based in man's dislike of making choices. Once he realizes his total freedom, when he sees that the Universe holds no sway over him and he can do what he wishes and must bear the consequences, man experiences angst. This is something I've been thinking alot about recently for no particular reason. But I've seen the truth of it. People shy away from making choices, even though they've always got them. Even with a gun against your head, you can choose life or death. But this is not really where my particular angst comes from either. I think the dislike of making choices comes because they make manifest the possibility for failure.

I wrote before this that my life is a sine wave. Essentially, nothing of import has happened to me recently. It has become the equation y = x. I have nothing to be pleased or displeased about. I revile the void. This leaves me with a constant sense of melancholy (tinted with irritation), like a bad taste for the soul.

In a way, I wish something bad would happen so that I could feel bad about and at least be definitely feeling something. I've felt pretty low pretty recently, so I think I have a whole different standard of 'bad' from most people (of my age, at least)...and therefore would simply be dissatisfied by a minor mishap or string thereof.

The purpose of that last paragraph isn't to imply that I'm caught in some kind of masochistic quest for pain, but rather that I would almost (I stress the word almost) prefer it to a nothingness. At least it isn't boring, and there's an odd kind of comfort found in misery.