Week #2 Of School (Faux-Losophy).

I've got exactly one week of graduate school in philosophy under my belt at this point. So far, I am:

FREAKING OUT!!!!!!!

First of all, it's been two years since I was in any sort of academic setting at all. I forgot what it was like to read things because you had to read them! I forgot what it was like to have to budget your time accordingly! At a job, they plan out your time for you. Usually 9-5, M-F. It's set! And when you're not there, you can just fuck around and eat Chee-tohs or whatever.

In school, you have to make it your beeswax to make sure you'll have enough time to get reading done. I predict, in my future, way less drinking and way less social time. Except that when I do drink/socialize, it will be monumental.

Also, being in class is actually kind of scary. Actually, it's really scary. All of these people are pretty brilliant. The professors are brilliant, and well-versed. Anyway, I'd love to talk up in class, but first I've got to think of something to say. Right now, I'm just absorbingabsorbingabsorbing. I listen, and I take notes, and I think, and I try to wrap my head around things, and before I even get to the point where I'm finally understanding the concept, someone else has already pointed out a detrimental flaw in the argument.

On the surface, it's not that complicated. In each class, you (A) read a fuckload, (B) talk about it in class, and then, at the end of the semester, you (C) write a paper about it.

I hope my papers don't suck! I hope I write them well! I hope I spell things correctly! I hope I have something to say!

My biggest fears: What if I'm not able to do this? What if the stress ends up killing me? What if there's something else I should be spending my time (and money) on? What if I just can't hack it?

Hopefully, in a few months, I quit freaking out. Hopefully, in a few months, I re-learn the language that philosophers use, and I don't have to read every paragraph 3 times and look up every other word/concept. Hopefully I can handle everything that's presented to me.

I hope I can look back on this blog and tell myself, "Cory, chillax, bro! You'll be fine!" Also, I hope I'm able to say, "Cory! Try your best, but it doesn't really matter anyway, because you become a rock star/business mogul/hitman/drug cartel."

I am going to need constant reassurance/support/love. I will now pre-emptively thank you for these things.

First Day Of School (They Bought It!!!!)

So, today's my first day of graduate school. I'm pretty fucking nervous. REAL Goddamn Fucking Nervous. REALLY REALLY REAL Shit-Kickin' Horse-Punchin' Goddamn Fucking Nervous. Think about this: on the first day of class (no matter what year), you're thinking about whether your teacher's going to be a dick, whether your classmates are going to make fun of you and kick your ass, whether you remembered to buy the appropriate materiels, etc.

I guess I'm not too worried about whether my classmates like me. I mean, kind of, but I'm in graduate school for PHILOSOPHY, not kick-boxing or anything. We're probably all too anti-social, physically weak and neurotic to really hate on each other. Plus, I think the beard/glasses/ponytail look unites philosophers. Actually, I think it unites all graduate students. That, and being a severe alcoholic with no money to speak of.

I'm kind of worried about having the right stuff for class, though. I mean, I have my books, my notepads and all of that horseshit, but what if I get there and we need a protractor? Holy fuck, I'd be screwed! I don't know if we need to measure anything, but what do I know? What if I need a compass or something? Both kinds of compass? What if we need to measure circles, and also know which way is North?

Most of all, I'm worried that they let me in on accident. What if it's WAY OVER MY HEAD!? What if I get there, and I realize everyone's way more smart than me, or way more prepared? I'm sure they have a better work ethic than I do; that's not really the question. I can just imagine a situation in which the professor would ask a question, like "What do you guys think about metaphysics, in the context of Eastern spirituality?" If they asked that, I'd puke under my desk. And that's a fact.

Wish me luck!

Totally Fucked,
Cory

Snake-Ironing.

There are clearly not enough blogs pertaining to cult-classic movie "Snakes on a Plane." I wish I could fill that void, but instead, I want to talk about the definition of a so-bad-it's-good movie, or, a "BadGood" movie.

Let me start by pasting some text I posted on a messageboard earlier today. It was in response to a question of whether the movie "Evil Dead" was BadGood or Sincerely Good Because It Was Meant To Be Good.

Evil Dead is definitely a paradox. I think for something to be "BadGood" as opposed to just "Good," it has to have sincere, earnest intentions that go awry. Evil Dead, I think, was MEANT to be funny and corny and endearing and all of that, so I would also place it in the "Good" category. SoaP USED to be sincere, until they found out that everyone wanted to go see it because they thought it would be BadGood, so the producers went out of their way to make it even BETTER-Bad. They shot more sex, violence, swearing, etc. Because they've put effort into making the film awesomely-BadGood, I've been telling myself not to have high expections. Also, it makes them ineligible for the title of "BadGood." Instead, it will either be Good or Bad, I think.

Right? I mean, if someone's TRYING to be ironically funny, it's not really ironic anymore, is it? If it's honest and intentional, then it's very unironic and should be judged accordingly so. That's crazy that we've gone from sincere humor to ironic humor and now, even ironic humor is unironically manufactured.

So, I was trying to start a discussion of whether intentions should be weighed when deeming a movie as "Good" or "BadGood." But nothing ever got started. I want to know whether "ironically" stupid/funny t-shirts are still ironic if they're MEANT to be stupid!

I then went on to add,

But the real question is: were there hot naked chicks in the movie? Did the snakes have a sex scene?

w00t! Lollzer! CorBot, FTW!!!!!!!1111

Snakes are teh suxxor

Intense Professional Pressure

Ever since I started this blog on August 16th, 2006, I've received a lot of pressure to live up to my own awesomeness.

Really though, there's something about having a blog that's very paradoxical. When I was thinking about making a personal blog and while I was creating it, all I could think about was "holy shit yes, I can write whatever I want, whenever I want, and no one can stop me!" Then, after I had created the blog and published my introductory post (see below, I think), I thought, "fuck, now what?" Now that I have this forum in which to profess my ideas, I have realized that I don't actually have anything to say, per se.

Maybe I'm putting too much pressure on myself to write something profound. One could make the argument that it's because I (theoretically, but not really) have an audience for my thoughts, but even when I write thoughts down that no one will ever see, I still feel a lot of pressure to make it something worthwhile. I would hate to look in my gournal (or "journal," whatever, I guess I'm not all smart like you) only to find something like "Today, it was hot! I made sweat with my body, and felt the need to turn on the air conditioning in my household!" If I read that from a previous journal/blog entry of my own, I'd just think "man, what a waste of ink." I want to write something awesome! I want to say something and mean it! I want people to be shocked and amazed, concerning the extent of my literary sexiness!

I think, though, that this blog is going to turn into a vehicle for late-night drunken horse-shit, when I don't have any filter on my mind/fingers (AKA "typin' sticks"). So there will probably be a good amount of "teh's," plenty of "form" instead of "from," and maybe too much of "!!!!!!11's," and unironically so.

Speaking of ending a sentence in a preposition; I realize that it's incorrect to say "where are you from?" But it sounds so right. I usually don't support bad grammar, but guess what? Most other ways to ask someone where they are from sound stupid. "From where are you?" "Where do you live?," or... "Where do you live... at?" "Do not you wish your girlfriend was as hot as me? Do not you? Do not you? Do not you?"

"Odelay Odelay Mother, Eeyore, Eeyore, Oh Noooooo! What Has Happened?" - Nelly

Editor's note: instead of ending a sentence with a preposition, as in:

"Where are you from?"

What if you ended the sentence with a proposition, as in:

"Where are you from, and would you like to look inside of my pants?"

Just a thought.

First Personal Business

Hello, everyone-

My name is Cory Alan. This is the new home of my very own personal thoughts. I am already a part of other blogs (www.mrfuriousrecords.com, www.mrfuriousrecords.com/themonthlynoose), but this is all about me and it has to do with my profound thoughts and knowledge of universal truth.

Feel free to ask me any question, because I am sure I will know the answer. Also, I need help on how to make bread into toast.