Laments of a Philosophy Major

Philosophy, as it is practiced today, blows.

In medieval times, Monks used to sit indoors all day long throughout the year and write letters of sorts to others monasteries, who in turn would respond. These documents varied in style and length, from entire volumes to short, listed questions. Monks delighted in the exchange of these theological dialogues, even as they began to increasing drift in sincerity and practicality as questions such as “How many Angels can dance on the head of a pin?” and “Could Jesus have been born a female?” became the source of much discussion, which often regressed to petty insults and bickering between monks. This system of exchange came to be known as scholasticism.

This exchange of essays and questions parallels much of academia today, in that sophistry has come to exist in place of/as dialogue. Our conversations and exchanges consist of building houses of cards, comparing, and trying our best to knock down others all while maintaining our own. We exchange speeches.

Rather than regressing to insults, however, we've begun an assult on language. We increasingly blame the limitations of words for our impotence... Yet, in this recognition we continue to create new definitions, new words in hopes thatsomehow this will circumnavigate the issue. Dumb.

Whenever I write an essay, I feel like I’m only learning how to become a better tool.

Socrates didn’t write essays… He walked around and lived off of others all while being an ass. Why don’t we do that anymore? I want to earn my hemlock!


No internship/job leads yet. I can feel the disapproving gaze of my father beginning to pierce my soul.