I AM SO CONFUSED
OKAY, SO, MY DAD COMES IN AND HANDS ME A LETTER TODAY AND HE WAS LIKE “well I don’t know what’s happening but I’m pretty sure this is for you” AND THIS IS WHAT HE HANDS ME:
so naturally I OPEN IT.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WAS EXPECTING TO FIND
someone legitimately took the time and money to write out this letter EXACTLY as it appears in Goblet of Fire, and COVER IT IN STAMPS. THEY EVEN SEALED IT WITH WAX.
I DON’T KNOW WHO THE FUCK DID THIS
WHAT IS HAPPENING
(Source: khazad-dumb, via firewordsparkler)
Every year, I try to do at least two things with my students at least once. First, I make a point of addressing them as “philosophers” – a bit cheesy, but hopefully it encourages active learning.
Secondly, I say something like this: “I’m sure you’ve heard the expression ‘everyone is entitled to their opinion.’ Perhaps you’ve even said it yourself, maybe to head off an argument or bring one to a close. Well, as soon as you walk into this room, it’s no longer true. You are not entitled to your opinion. You are only entitled to what you can argue for.”
A bit harsh? Perhaps, but philosophy teachers owe it to our students to teach them how to construct and defend an argument – and to recognize when a belief has become indefensible.
The problem with “I’m entitled to my opinion” is that, all too often, it’s used to shelter beliefs that should have been abandoned. It becomes shorthand for “I can say or think whatever I like” – and by extension, continuing to argue is somehow disrespectful. And this attitude feeds, I suggest, into the false equivalence between experts and non-experts that is an increasingly pernicious feature of our public discourse.
I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared for the Gilmore Girls resurgence about to happen now that October is here.
If someone says “I love u” and you say “I love u 2” back, make sure you add “no Bono” so they know you mean that you love them too, not just the legendary Irish rock band U2
(Source: kingmunsterxvii, via queertakeover)
"Next year I will not be the self of this year now. And that is why I laugh at the transient, the ephemeral; laugh, while clutching, holding, tenderly, like a fool his toy, cracked glass, water through fingers. For all the writing, for all the invention of engines to express & convey & capture life, it is the living of it that is the gimmick. It goes by, and whatever dream you use to dope up the pains and hurts, it goes. Delude yourself about printed islands of permanence. You’ve only got so long to live. You’re getting your dream. Things are working, blind forces, no personal spiritual beneficent ones except your own intelligence and the good will of a few other fools and fellow humans. So hit it while it’s hot."