*A personal and autobiographical approach to philosophy/ philosophical aspects of our life stories
*Growing up in white, rural Robbinsville, NJ, in the 1990’s
*My father’s house in rural Cream Ridge, NJ– 2 acres of land!
*My earliest 2 memories are of the beach
*Why I dislike East Windsor
**In the video I mistook my estimation of precisely how white Robbinsville was. I do not recall more than one African American in my class until I was 4th grade when I met someone of Egyptian background and someone mulatto. When I was in 6th grade I recall meeting two people of Indian backgrounds in my class. The bottom line is that Robbinsville was exceptionally white.
Between my failed attempt turn my self-published book, my three failed runs for political office, and my failed pursuit of a teaching assistantship position as a graduate school student I’ve had enough failure to feel like I’m an expert on the topic. But, like Elon Musk, I refuse to be defined by my failures, so today I imagined myself as the Montaigne of the personal vlog, digressing from topic to topic as I pleased, from failure to time, thinking of Hootie and the Blowfish, when they sing: “Time, why you punish me?”
-From an F in Math in fifth grade to a 3.98 GPA and a Bachelor’s Degree in Liberal Studies at 33 years old… my views on education have evolved significantly-
The philosopher and writer Michel de Montaigne– whose work I had the opportunity to study in college– continues to influence and inspire me. I revere his contribution to the development of the “personal essay” and the written treatment of individual subjects from the perspective of reflection on experience with/connection to such subjects. In this context one can learn about the person in particular, the human soul in general, the topic, in a conversation as opposed to a lecture or pure argument. And in the case of essays such as the sort Montaigne wrote, there’s the freedom to digress, in his case, in and out of history, philosophy, politics, et cetera.
I think of Montaigne now, as I contemplate my extemporaneous,
thinking-out- loud- as- I- go approach to vlogging and podcasting, and as I touch
on the subject of graduating college, from the perspective of someone who once received
an F in fifth grade and dropped out of college multiple times to someone who
fell in love with academia, graduated with a
3.98 GPA and was granted the privilege to speak at his college
graduation. That is to say, there is, among the ironies, the irony that while I
possess some “academically” derived thoughts on my academic experiences—I mean,
based on scholarly articles, and university research from which I could merely
synthesize that sea of research—I could not speak with accuracy if I detached
from my personal connection to this subject.
To graduate at 33 as opposed to 22 years old, at points in
my reflection, brings sadness and regrets because sometimes it can seem like all
this does is confirm some notion of myself as slow compared to my smarter peers.
Yet I don’t think that way about those who are my age or my elders who earn
their college degrees later than is “conventional.” That would be to do what Ayn
Rand referred to as “context dropping.” As one former professor of mine once
said, “you never know where you are in someone else’s narrative.” She was
actually citing a former professor of hers. Moreover, what is the problem with
not going right to college or never going? College simply offers an array of
specific opportunities to receive specific sets of knowledge. Seemingly
countless resources of knowledge exist beyond the college setting. What matters
is not whether one attends a university or not but rather the question of what
one seeks to learn and what one aspires to achieve with that knowledge. (This
is not to say that I downplay the incredible value, especially of community, that
various types of schools, whether university, college or trade school, can
offer. I think too much autodidacticism might lead to isolation and a kind of
anti-social philosophy; at least this turned out to be the case in my experience).
Central to the context behind my academic struggles was mental
illness (depression an anxiety specifically) combined with incorrect and poorly
defined, fundamental philosophical principles. Even when I possessed a
scientific epistemology, I didn’t think about how it applied to much more than
science. I had no real sense of values. Not because my family failed to instill
them but because I wasn’t taught, in high school, any kind of serious intellectual
presentation of theories of values and ethics. How much of a difference would
that have made? How much difference would consistent mental/psychological check-ups
have made? I don’t believe in torturing myself with “what if’s” but I do like gaining
an understanding of context behind how events transpire. That is something I
gained from the many history courses I took.
So, with psychological and philosophical reasons for detaching
from “school” from elementary school through my first few years of college, I
retreated to the arts. In my childhood, horror stories, movies, writing, and acting
were my refuge.
As inclined to the arts as I may have been, with very few
exceptions, I treated my artistic endeavors with profound narcissism. That is
to say, the concentration I put into writing, passionate though I may have been
in some sense, I feared any kind of real feedback and thus, while I always
hoped for people to praise whatever poem or performance I shared with them,
really, alas, I didn’t think about it as constructive feedback to help me
produce anything meaningfully consequential. It was largely my escape from
academic standards at play.
By my sophomore year of college—when I attended Florida Gulf
Coast University—I experienced further ironies. While convinced of my
incompetence and lacking “belief” in knowledge, I was nonetheless engaged in
philosophizing and extracurricular study of poets who interested me, including Kerouac,
Ginsberg, Dylan, Morrison, Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Ovid, Sappho, Shelley, Lennon—all
the ones I considered the “rebels” of poetry. Even after I dropped out (then
returned, then dropped out again, then returned, then dropped out again…), I remained
avid as a reader, and persistent in my desire to be something of an
intellectual artist or an artistic intellectual, delving into Nietzsche,
Schopenhauer, William James, John Dewey, Dostoevsky, Napoleon Hill and
eventually Ayn Rand.
My Ayn Rand phase with even more ironic yet because I became
an “objectivist” who now believed in “knowledge” staunchly so, and spent all my
free time reading non-fiction books, yet I still maintained my “anti-academia”
perspective. This newfound objectivism, alas, failed to facilitate my eradication
of the frustrating poverty and tedium of cashiering, even when it led to my
first run for political office. As I thought more and more about my life
logically it occurred to me I ought to return to college and there I saw,
gradually, the pile of contradictions that made up my puritanical sort of “objectivism”
(I call myself, for a lack of better words thus far, a “clarificationist”
because I believe we can strive for objectivity and gain ever greater clarity
but never quite get a point of absolutism or pure objectivity). Likewise, I saw
the flaws with my libertarianism as I took courses on poverty, Native
Americans, women and the law, the Holocaust/Nazi Germany, the U.S. judicial
system, et cetera, and learned how leaving people “free” to exploit and abuse leads
to exploitation and abuse. Not in every case, but often enough that it remains
I thought, as my college education reached its final chapter, that an MFA in Creative Writing was in my future. This seemed to me the ultimate way I could build a community of greater person- to -person understanding, empathy, intellectual freedom or free thought (which is what Creative Writing came to mean to me as a concept) (I mean, as a “creative writer” and professor of the subject) and even though I’ve been offered an opportunity to study at graduate school, the last five months out of college have thrust me into deeper questions about the meaning of practicality, contributing the world, making money, finding a place in these revolutionary times, and making the most of the college education I received.