The Graduate

Just like Benjamin Braddock, I am now a graduate. If anyone knows of any married older women named Mrs. Robinson looking to have a brief extramarital affair with a 21-year-old graduate with a mediocre degree in Philosophy, please get in contact (I jest, please do not; I don't think it would be an entirely sensible idea). Graduation itself was nice, and made me half wish that academic dress was the university standard, like at some of the Oxbridge colleges, although I suppose it would be a terrible hassle having to constantly wash it. Still, my blue tie matched perfectly with the university colours, which was a happy coincidence. That, and the weather was pretty nice, if a little windy. Still, if there is anything which the film "The Graduate" shows is that you can't do nothing with your life: You always have to be doing something, even if it isn't important. "Ben, what are you doing?" "Well, I would say that I'm just drifting." I have to stop drifting and start going somewhere. But unless you know where you're going, you won't get anywhere. What am I saying? Even I find it very difficult to put into simple terms the way things work. You can see the way the world operates and how actions occur, but actually explaining how these things happen is far more complicated.

Much like this blog post really. Each, or at least most, of these postings have been an attempt to express how I feel or what I'm interested in, but honestly I doubt any of them have even come remotely close. Wittgenstein was seemingly correct: Without language you cannot appropriately express thought. But I think you can have ideas which cannot be expressed, but because they can't be expressed, they cannot be shared. Only through communication can you give credence to any idea. I suppose that's why most philosophers haven't been embraced by the popular media: Although their ideas might have been the best, they are often the worst people to actually communicate their ideas. A bit like politicians really, although not as universally untrustworthy. If I wanted someone to watch my shopping whilst I went to the Post Office, I would definitely leave Immanuel Kant rather than Thomas Jefferson. The worst thing Kant would do would be to eat an apple, whereas Jefferson would declare my shopping deserved independence. I kid, I kid. I also respect Jefferson. I have nothing further to say at this juncture.