A simple philosophy. Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. And scratch where it itches.
--Alice Roosevelt Longworth

Monday, February 8, 1999
Philosophy 101

Does my philosophy class exist?

This is a very complicated question, so much so that it seems almost unfair for me to pose it to you-- if, that is, my scattering of these little squiggles across the screen can really be considered communication, and if you guys really exist. Sure, I get e-mail from some of you, but that's not proof.

But let us suppose that you exist, as least for the length of time it takes for you to ponder this question. Does my philosophy class exist?

The first thing we have to do is consider our terms. We must determine what "my philosophy class" means, and determine the nature of existence itself.

Let us start with the latter. Existance is a tricky thing to pin down, and it is best done by example. We are all familiar with things that exist, and we can also list things that do not. Considering these lists might give us an idea of what existence entails.

So: Peanut butter exists. Chocolate exists. Reese's Peanut Butter cups exist, alas. (I love both substances to distraction, but I hate the combination.) Chairs exist. Tables exist. Pink flamingos exist. And despite all the odds to the contrary, Dennis Rodman exists.

On the other hand, the pink flamingo in the corner of my room currently comitting obscene acts with Dennis Rodman, using a jar of peanut butter, most assuredly does not exist. Thank God.

This applies to abstract concepts also. Taking it as a given that 3+5=8, we can say that the whole number "5" exists, as does the whole number represented by the word "googolplex," which I shall not type out here, because I would wear out the "0" key on my keyboard, and probably lose count a googol times along the way, which would be very, very frustrating.

On the other hand, the whole number between "4" and "5" does not exist. Neither do days of the week not ending in "Y" in months without any vowels in their names. In English, that is.

So far, so good?

On to the other term open for consideration: "my philosophy class." Now, it would be an error to suppose that I am referring to a class that I possess in some sort of way. Earlier entries in this journal have established that I am, if not a starving college student, periliously close to becoming such, and I certainly don't have the wherewithal to actually buy my own professor. Although if the job market for educators gets any more glutted, that may soon change.

No, the phrase refers to a philosophy class that I am enrolled in and currently attending. (Let us grant, for the sake of the argument, that I exist. If you prefer, you may instead ask yourself whether your philosophy class exists, but then your line of reasoning is likely to diverge from mine, in interesting and arcane ways.)

As for what a philosophy class is, let us postulate that philosophy deals with generalities, and, consonant with the big, scary name "metaphysics," is concerned with the very rules underlying the rules; that is, everything that is usually taken for granted. This is not to be confused with everything grants are usually taken for, which would cover most of the college curriculum.

Furthermore, I am not just talking about any philosophy class; I am talking about my Philosophy 101 class.

So, does it exist?

One potential way of determining this would be by a causal argument. Specifically, many advanced philosophy courses require Philosophy 101. If I were enrolled in such a course, that might serve as evidence that my Philosophy 101 class exists.

There are two problems with this approach. First of all, it would have to wait for a future semester, when I take an advanced philosophy course. If I bother to do so. For the moment, though, this would suffer from a faulty premise.

Second of all, while it is indeed possible to take advanced philosophy courses once one takes Philosophy 101, that is not the only way to do so. I have never taken English 110 and 120, which are theoretically required for later courses, but I have taken a heaping helping of electives anyway. That is because I have been exempted from English 110 and 120.

(Well, almost. We never did get around to making this official, but it is a given. I just have to remember to speak to the relevant professor about it.)

Looking at my bill, I note that I am indeed charged for a course called Philosophy 101, which obstensibly takes place on Monday nights, starting at 6:30 PM. The fact that I am being billed the princely sum of $0.00, in recognition of my virtually-starving-college-student status, is not the immediate point here. The point is that this would seem to be evidence that such a class exists.

But is it, indeed, my philosophy class? I would suppose that a philosophy class would be educational. That it would be stimulating. That it would feature at least a hint of a classroom dynamic.

On those grounds, I'm not sure it exists. You'll have to stay tuned for future reports on this, I fear.



I am doing more talking in this class than every single last one of my classmates combined. This is not so much because I'm talking a lot; it's more because nobody else is saying a word.

I don't get it; they can't all be completely clueless, right? So will somebody explain how it happens that, when the professor is going through the question of whether or not God exists, and he says that those who believe He does are "theists," and those who believe He doesn't are...

...here he pauses, and, thank goodness, after a long pause, a couple of classmates figure out that the correct answer is, duh, "atheists"...

...and those who aren't sure whether or not God exists are...?

My hand is raised, but he ignores it; I have the feeling that he wants to give somebody else a chance for a change, which seems like a good idea for all concerned. But nobody answers. He finally gives the answer himself.

And then somebody asks him to repeat and spell it.

Is "agnostic" really that obscure a concept?!



Well. I'm tempted to say more, much more, but I really must do my homework for tomorrow's class, and go to sleep. Assuming, that is, that tomorrow's class exists.

The truth is out there.

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