I believe that… Love is expensive in grad school.
I believe that there never was a creator of a philosophical system who did not confess at the end of his life that he had wasted his time. It must be admitted that the inventors of the mechanical arts have been much more useful to men that the inventors of syllogisms. He who imagined a ship towers considerably above him who imagined innate ideas.
I believe that the universe exists outside of human perception, and that our existance and observance has no bearing on it. Stars lived an died before man, they burn and sparkle in our eyes today, and they shall continue to be birthed and perish long after we have done the same.
I believe that the planets in the solar system orbit the sun due to the force of gravity.
I believe that subjective beliefs often look like absolute truths to the people believing them.
What I believe:
Is if my computer had a button on the side, which, when I pushed it, turned this machine slowly into a typewriter, my screen into a paper, my keys into elevated ones, my virtual ink into the wet of old, the plastic into the solid weight of metal, the air into a thick and fresh taste, the building that houses my apartment into gone, even the metropolis where my building now exists into a setting like the small camp it was one of one-hundred and fifty years ago where around me I could see the difference of this western state, the languages, the dialects, the people, the lifestyles where a story is something a settler of 1861 disregards for the figures of acreage against costs or ownership against surveyed plots, a government surveyor winces against to instead take the bottle of rye, a miner passes on in his twelve year search, a Chinese immigrant isn’t allowed to understand, a Mexican vaquero winks away, and a cowboy whistles at before saying, “I did’t do school all the way through,” and where a typewriter itself is a rare thing, then I might not feel this way.
But as is–I sit in my small apartment and listen to my neighbors move furniture from one wall to another to another to another, and I think about walking to the fast-food restaurant as an excuse to get outdoors–I believe this is the only thing I want to be doing.