wishful thinking

March 19, 2009

i was moving my bed from one wall to another today, and before i could do that, i had to go through the junk i had hidden beneath it, most of which was art supplies.

after i'd gotten the bed moved and the stuff sorted out and stored under it again, i opened up the last of the things to hide, a sketchbook. on one page, i'd written a bit of dialogue from a philosophy class i'd taken one semester.

i'd chosen aesthetics, the study of beauty, because i thought i might find it more interesting than the introduction to philosophy.

the dialogue was a conversation between my professor and myself. i'd wanted to remember it. i'm not sure why.

i think i was a junior, which means i would've been twenty-one or so.

it goes like this:

professor: so, if you were gonna give a speech on love using socrates' principles of rhetoric, how would you begin?

me: well, you would define what love is.

yeah. what is it?

i don't know.

you don't know. you've never been in love?




i hadn't been. i'd thought it a bit embarrassing at the time. embarrassing and sad. and i remember wishing i'd've thought through the impulse to answer his first question.

i wish i could say never now.