AmbivalentEye

Actually I think this is kinda baseless statement. First of all, not all adults can take all factors into consideration and make a rational and well-informed decisions. And these days 14-16 year olds are not ignorant of what is happening around the world. At any rate, I think the voting age should be lowered. 18 is a bit too much. I agree with everything you said except for your final choice. I would appreciate the right to vote, but I beleive it might be more harmful if the voting age is lowered, because like I said, it opens up the door for all the other teens who never thought through their decision or the reasons to support their choice.

Voting should be done by those who are competent to make such decisions; namely, those who can make rational and well-informed judgments. Children do not qualify because they are not sufficiently well-informed yet. The first of these sentences already cuts out a percentage of the population who are adults and vote, but could really care less about the outcome and would even vote "mickey mouse" if it were on the ballot. I guess what originally got me to start this comment was to clarify what your concept of a child is and how long that lasts. I defend this because I am in one of those in between stages where I'm still restricted from voting, but at the same time, I'm more informed and and compelled to be informed and and involved than many adults I know. I won't say that I deserve the right to vote right now nor would I try to change the voting age, but still, there are some extremely intellegent, informed, and mature people I've met as young as 14. I think the problem really lies in the fact that these "exceptions" would only open the door for so many other mindless brutes of the same age who would vote for the "wrong" candidate as a form of joke. I don't disagree with the voting age, yet I do beleive some of the "exceptions" I speak about would at least be given the slightest concideration and not disregarded as we mostly are. At 11 I had the same mentality of most 18 year olds I knew, and now I can't even figure out what the age of my conscience and maturity is anymore, I guess it can only be judged through my overall character. I'd still appreciate being heard, because unlinke most of today's youth, I have upheld my standards of morality and virtue and have defended them throughout my life. Doesn't that mean anything to adults anymore?

I'll look forward to at least someday hear that it's finished. I know how difficult it can be to complete one. Let me know.

I guess it depends on the form of the repression or suppression, I'm still trying to set apart each so I guess I'dd appreciate a definition. But what I mean is that if you're "hiding" or "holding back" an act or a verbal statement, then of course you have to concider the circumstances and whether or not its appropriate, but when it comes to "holding back" or in some cases "denying" a though from oneself is when it becomes evil. This is the basis of many intellectual struggles[this is merely an opinion(don't shoot)] and I've come to see it as one of the fundamental steps of rationalizations. I personally have had many problems on these grounds, which, as I've said, I'm trying to fix. If there is a thought, your reason must accept it by proof, or discard it also on proof of a fallacy, but to simply deny it is wrong. Denying the thought, then becomes, denying your mind, does it not? This is why I have seen it in many rationalizations and why I have seen so many intellectuals suffering. Am I correct in my stating this. I mean, this is an idea I have only begun to fromulate and have very little to back up my thoughts, but it seems reasonable, and Ayn Rand seemed to imply the same things in "Philosophy:Who needs it?" Thank you for the definitions, I don't have the resource to attain it right now.

To be honest here, I'll say that there hasn't been any actual "heroes", in my life, not in the sense that I have come to accept the term. Of my elders and closest counsel, all have been a group who have indirectly nearly demanded that I murder my mind. I've had my controversies with them as far as I could remember, but they are also those that have kept me alive and therefore to a certain extent, they're idols. I have broken it down into the two categories. All my heroes will be idols, but my idols will never necessarilly ever have to be heroes to me. For example, my parents, who despite their intentions or opinions have always silently wanted me to withdraw from my mind and simply shut up to their plans and regulations. My arguments are endless, but still, my father has forever supported me(financially), gave me my basic necessities as any father does, and he loves me as I to him. He isn't a hero. Having been surrounded by this negative influence has taken it's toll on me in some many aspects which only until now, have I begun to piece together and correct, therefore, my dream has always been to find those heroes, and if never possible, then to become one: The highest possible of my ability and the earning of my virtues. As still an adolescent, the only comfort came to me in reading the books of Ayn Rand. Though fictitious, are the only even slightest clue of what I had always been inquiring. To me, a hero has always been... I guess, the highest possible. I mean this in the sense of a person who has a goal and uses it's last nerve of ability and rationality to become that or achive it. People of the strictest code of morals and values that can never be compromised or otherwise betrayed. Also, most importantly, people who know the immense value of Life, as Ayn Rand always described it and as I have always felt it. Many times, it still feels like a dream, or perhaps only a creation of fiction. But it is the beleif that it may be true that keeps me striving for something greater of myself. That's my vision of hero. On a side note: I've wanted to comment on an unfairness in my school system. It occurred in my Literature class when I was asked to write a reprt on the main character of "The Old Man and The Sea", as one of the greatest heroes there could ever be. It was intended to be a persuasivily inclined prompt, and I refused to do it. Though "Santiago" may have had some very admirable qualities, I could not declare him a hero, it seemed to go agains my already accepted ideals. Is it right for the school system to impose such an assignment at the sake of my grades? It was a forced task, and though it may have only been a small issue, it signified a lot to me and felt a personal betrayal in having to turn in that paper. The school year is over so that is passed. Still, I wanted to make it known.... -J.

Americo, Thank you for your comment. I'd like to state, that I've sort of had a change in my way of being. I can't pinpoint the cause of it, but to summarize. I found a problem in my writting, the moment I began to post them here, actually, in the moment of choosing what to post. I don't know if it is valid to say that I hadn't been aware of a system of rationalizations I had created years ago, thinking it was my only resort to survival. My writtings proved my error. I'm sure there may be slight glimpses of it in the things here. I found a stash of it in some of my other material and it really bothered me. Bottomline, "I'm checking my premises", for the sake of my mind, and mostly, my Life. I'd like to begin correcting my error by means of reason, as I have seen here and I express my gratitude to all of you that showed me that. That got me to ask some of the fundamental questions I needed. I don't expect anything for what I may have written here. A lot of it bothers me, because I know the nature of those writtings and those thoughts. I'd like to continue voicing my opinion and bring an end to the philosophical fallacies that led me here. I'm so glad I found it now that I'm 14 and not as an adult. I may have some other questions later, so I'll be back. Thank you.

......perhaps I'll just end it there. There's something about my writting that scares me sometimes and I wonder if I am in some way linked to that detached entity. A part of me....fights the struggle of the rational mind. Always reaching for something beyond. Purposeful to the end. The other side....it wonders if LIFE, is really something one is capable of saving. Life as I have felt it. As it was felt once...

Purpose Words. Just words. A signature of one's existence; Of a rational creature that could perceive and take in the wonders of this universe and have them be remembered through a compilation of adjectives and verbs. Imprints of such overwhelming sentiments as do exist. For it is in such words that has been intricately depicted: The truth... The value... The reason... Fluent are the verses from your lips. Like cooling waters to my weary limbs. Serenity to the frantic confusion of my conscience. So powerful can be the single phrase. A mere fragment born from the movements of your pen, leaving you satisfied to die in peace. I beckon you to scribe your sonnet, young maiden. Murdered by a single sentence able to define me. An absolution I had not beleived. My spirit melts through my hand as I conclude each page. Drain me of all I posses as I mark my ending to another poem. Is this my death? For my palm seems to grip this receding lead with each word, wearing away the tool of my escape. Offer me a play...some stanza Verses ripped from the soul and wept by the desperate. Holding on to life. Hanging on to hope. Protect the imprints of my mind. The pages, I, at some point... wrote. -J

The Sea Keep still. So still and perfect. The skin is smooth. Smooth like warm pristine waves at sea on a day of spiced sunlight and wind. Washing past me. Washing through me. Submerging me beneath your hold as the currents beat my sweltering limbs. Take this as my devotion, or merely my surrender. My body is yours, The will is mine. Drag me to shore restless and battered by your frenzied pulse within me. Your blood as mine. Your skin, my sacred tenple. Carry me away and set me down on somber shore. Deserted island. To lay there draped in moist velveteen sands. Tis you, this feeble grip of life A fulfilling, liquid flow over my dessicated skin. Keep still. Keep me beneath water. Arctic breezes chill my lungs when I breathe. Undo the knitting of my gills with your intrepid tounge. Rid me of my need. The need to live. To keep you by my side. Intrinsic longings of my being. Why must you come so close? So close that I lose sense of myself. So near that you engulf me with your essence While my hands are tied, and my lips sealed shut I cannot have you. Your power lies in the fact that I want you, and in admitting it I become subdued to that tangible yet unattainable figure before my eyes.... Within my mind... So silent. So pure... But oh how agreeable. This need shall kill me. Shall burn me inside. But let it be so.. For I cannot forsake you. Let it be done... For I cannot forget you. -Jason

Earth and Soul (essentially locked) Come. Speak. What is thy will? Your imprints lay veiled on the surface of flooded lands. Sweep the earth once more with your solemn tear. Waning descent of the angel Silences revealed Constant beat of vibrating rhythms and thoughts. You are here… Stirring restlessness of my heart. You are there… and the voids complete my silent sorrow. Flickering images from your trembling skin Life. Swift drink of life in which I’m consumed by thee Nature utters its divine glory Unwitnessed prosperity of the soul Stunning deception Left convinced that I’d be destroyed; The wounding tremors of your unrelenting pulse Ever-constant necessity for blaspheme serenity Gleaming silence that weeps from forgotten dreams. After frost…there will be light. Shocking burst of piercing bright! To be later resigned to consuming silence And the earth shall once again surrender to the energies that bore it Unyielding force of your lips Sound of your lips The words that destroy me Soft mist of a dissipating substance Shattered pieces of you and me Our pleas rise and are forced to subside. Receding breeze that steals away cries. Single touches rouse thee from your dream And I’m left seized here, torn away from thee. -Jason

Move.... It is the tool that is wrong Not my mind... Let me just say that and continue the struggle willingly, Masked beneath the lie. Why do your eyes fall upon me so insistently? Let me go from the grip of your glance That locks me in a hold of denial behind my guilt. What have I granted by signing off my identity on these acts? To whom or what am I due to as a result of my acknowledgement? "I am my own" I'll tell myself, and wonder what made me say something so stupid and senseless. Yet, "I am my own" shall fall beneath a breath, and I'll ponder upon Whether or not I beleive it. "It's not true!" Yells a voice that fades into the darkness. It shrieks and then dies as I watch the many paths that string out from the base of my feet. "You have to move", I'll say "You have to make a choice" And I'll be frozen there within some form of asphyxiating confusion. "I could just die..." "I could just die right here and forget about what happened or what I did" The only problem is that: You can be dead but for so long before you are forced to come back. And however long it took you, Is how much farther you'll be held back. "Always have to go back to real life" To the same point of corrupting pandemonium you tried to flee from. "It.. is.. possible.. to.. die" The voice whispers as it lays buried in my flesh. "It is possible..." -and fades away Never did I realize the saying was: "It is possible to die, but you always have to live" Life isn't the question. Not within the limits of my mind. It is the question... The undaunting question of your mind... Move... Stay... But in the end... you have to make the choice. -J

I asked if it would be ok, to post poetry here. I recall Ayn Rand adressing her readers in the introduction and as always, she mean her writting to be read, if by any at all, then for it to be objectivists. I don't exavtly know who my audience is or whether I have one. I don't write for people. I write for myself and therefore I am constantly called arrogant. Let it be so. I know I want great minds to see the things I write and recall what was possible to the human existence: "The ability to perceive and feel". I've convinced myself to a certain extent, that if I could sustain the quite powerful criticism I have witnessed on this site, maybe it won't feel so bad if I ever decide to publish anything. I appreciate your comments. Whatever they may be. I'm not going to start in any specific order. I'm simply going to post stuff and will stop if you beleive the material is inappropriate for the purpose of this site. I respect that. I do wish more emotion could be expressed here in some way. Ayn always offered it in her books, they were both intellectually and emotionally powerful, thus I loved them. I think "emotion" too, in some way should be an ideal. It is for me.

I didn't even know about this post. Don't mind if I post a few poems whether by poets I like or mine. If you have any comments on them let me know, but I honestly came to this site for the intellectual part of myself, not the emotional. It seems each is it's own universe.

I resent the bitter cruelty that seems to arise in any conversation here on these posts. that's not why I wanted to post here. I did, because I wanted some of my ideas heard and hopefully be understood. on a side note: I just got "We the Living" a few days ago, and am nearly finished with it. But I really haven't enjoyed it nearly as much as the 3 main novels. did anyone else feel the same way? It's not the same type of characters. I don't admire neither Kira, Leo or Andrei so far. Am I not supposed to. I guess I got used to finding heros in Ayn's novels. These don't intrigue me.

sorry about the redundance of this post. I guess the second image wasn't permitted. I'm currently having a problem with the files on my computer. oh well...

the complete one

just a pic

stephen, thanks for your suggestion, but I guess I also have the liberty to say: God damn the laws of English Literature! Forgive me, those who get insulted by my comment.

I agree with you entirely. I promise I didn't mean to imply anything different.

you know what Ash Ryan! It's true, I do seem to hold my emotions above my thoughts because it's all that currently affects me and that gives me reason to stay alive. If you asked, why do you live? I would answer: "Because I can feel!" I don't know how many would understand trhat. I know ayn rand would have because I too feel the same way about the word "LIFE", as others feel about the term "God". Life is nothing without my ability to feel it, or so I think. Damn me if that is wrong. Prove to me otherwise!

see now that's what annoys me about this site. everyone takes every single word so literally! I personally live by similies and metaphors which I get denounced for when I say anithing here because it's almost as if nobody here believes in a simple saying. I was first attracted to all of objectivism because of the astounding writter that Ayn Rand was. I too am a writter and hope to publish something one day, but I'll never get anywhere if my biggest problem is that the simplest or and probably greater intellectual of my readers doesn't even understand the concept of "a universe in a grain of sand". I mean, I may be wrong, but I'm pretty sure most have heard and understood that. Perhaps I'm insane for assuming so.

I agree with this post. My side of the point is that, I don't think objectivism should really be against it, as long as the reason for it, is that someone is trying to achieve the best within them. This is often not possible in other countries. If a person is searching for a more liberal eduaction, greater oportunities and more rights to be able to achieve what they wish to create, then I sdon't think it's wrong for them to do it. I know many immigrants, and most of them are really struggling to make better lives. A lot of them also have many productive things to offer and fight for, so what I beleive is that, nobody has a right to stop them. Or won't be able to. It's like trying to keep Howard Roark from being an architect. Surely you can't dispute against people struggling to attain their dreams and convictions? The second part of this quote is true. Many don't come here to create a hassle, or sart a riot. They want a better life, and as long as they don't commit any crime, they aren't found. So if they aren't causing a problem....why is it so important to deport them and ship them back to a country where they no longer have any means of living.

Stephen, I read a book a few months ago calld "The nature of Reality" , and it hadd the entire history of Physics and it's basic principles. Usually scince books annoy me. But I was hooked to this one. I read t cover to cover and have many notes. It said stuff about how the atom was discovered and how they(scientists) were debating over the nature of mater, and so scientist everywhere found particles smaller than a nucleus, and then smaller than protons and on and on....until they realized there might not be some beginning or foundation to matter. It began to imply that it it eternal within itself as well as, as a whole. I've always beleived in the concept of "A universe in a grain of sand", or that the solar system might be one millimeter of thread on a blose some person is wearing. It's amazing, and drives me to seek more ideas. I was introduced to the superstring theory, whcih is till very abstract in my mind, but the basic idea is logical: everything made of "strings" of energy. Which only sends me off thinking about telekinesis and all those concepts of...if I accept that I and a metal spoon are created of the same fundamental things(to not say elements), then I will be able to control, or rather use that spoon to whatever purpose I wish, whether it be bending it, or making it move simply by willing it. I get really in depth about thoughts like this. There's much more stuff. Like how they still can't put "gravity" into the equation of all they other forces they figured out. AGHH, I'm tounge tied. I'm tired. But yes, this is basically what I like about it. I like how it offers me so many possibilities, I'm impervious to whether there is an answer or not. I don't want the answers to the universe. You may call it ignorence. This is merely my preference. I've been led to beleive in stuff like.:There could be aliens...somewhee, and maybe they even came, but the people that saw them, asked what the answer to everything was, and when they heard it...they either went insane, or died. To me, this makes sense. It is my beleif that there are things we are not meant to know...and by pushing our limits, humans are only attempting to be what they can never become: A God.

Francisco D'aconia is unbeleivable. I thought he was amazing. Dominique is great too.

I like a few things by Dali, along with the concepts of surrealism. The rest of my liking is in abstract art mostly. Though cubism intrigues me at times. and there was 2 paintings I saw once. I think they were called "The 3 or 4 stages of man" and the other was, "The bottom of the sea" or something like that. I love sculptures too. The idea of someone carving out the body of some image in their mind. Like James Taylor (but he's not famous, i don't think).