Albert Camus
La philosophie de l'absurde
Je tire de l'absurde trois conséquences qui sont ma révolte, ma liberté, ma passion.
Biographie:
• Né en Algérie, 1913
• Fils d'un ouvrier agricole, milieu pas très riche
• Perd son père à la guerre de 1914
• Élevé par sa mère dans un quartier pauvre d'Alger
• Études en philosophie
• Domaine d'activité de la pensée qui s'enseigne aux fins d'une réflexion sur les êtres et les valeurs.
• 1936-> il a reçu son diplôme d'études supérieures en France
• Atteint de tuberculose
• Incidence sur la poursuite de ses études en philosophie
• Passion pour le théâtre
• Fonde une troupe: l'Équipe
• Adapte avec succès des pièces anciennes
• Devient journaliste à Alger-Paris
• S'engage dans l'armée, mais refusé pour cause de santé
• En 1944, il devient rédacteur en chef du journal Combat
• Contexte: résistance sous l'occupation allemande
• Milite en faveur des déshérités et des victimes de la lutte pour la liberté.
• 1957, il publie «Réflexions sur la peine capitale» en faveur de l'abolition de la peine de mort
• Auteur dramatique
• Il se consacre de plus en plus à sa carrière d'écrivain
• Son œuvre s'ordonne autour de: l'absurde, la révolte
Morale de l'absurde
• Prise de conscience du non-sens de la vie.
• Conduit à l'idée que l'homme est libre de vivre sans appel quitte à payer les conséquences de ses erreurs et à épuiser les joies de cette terre.
• Idées exposées dans le Mythe de Sisyphe (1942) «Les dieux avaient condamne Sisyphe à rouler sans cesse un rocher jusqu'au sommet d'une montagne d'où la pierre retombait par son propre poids».
• Ils avaient pensé qu'il n'y a pas de punition plus terrible que le travail inutile et sans espoir.
• Cette pensée représentait un héros absurde pour Camus.
• Il prête donc au personnage une révolte et une passion.
• «En prenant conscience de la vanité de ses efforts sans espoir Sisyphe se rend supérieur à ce qui l'écrase, s'emparent se don propre destin, il fonde sa grandeur sur la lutte et tire de cet univers le seul bonheur qui soit accessible à l'homme».
• La conscience donne du pouvoir.
• Humanisme de la révolte: l'auteur aboutit à la découverte d'une valeur: la nature humaine.
• Cet humanisme apparaît dans la Peste (1947) et dans deux pièces de théâtre: l'État de Siège (1948) et les Justes (1949)
• Ce thème sera encore plus élaboré dans l'homme révolté (1951).
TOKIO HOTEL!!!!!!!!! My newfound obession
http://www.you
Reden UNPLUGGED!!!
see also search for Ubers Ende der Welt (Ready steady go), Shrei (scream), Spring nicht, Rette Mich ..... ahhhh
Bill and Tom.....the absolute CUTEST pair of twins I've ever laid my eyes on. Too bad they dont speak English.... =_=;;;
Weeeeeeeell, I started work at this fast-food joint; the hours suck, the fries smell like someone peed on them, and the customers come in alll sizes - literally. Big, small, bigger... REALLY BIG. I get all ethnicities, all ages, all stereotypes.
SPEAKING OF STEREOTYPES, you know those yo-man-yo, gangsta (not gangster, ganSTA) dudes you see on TV who go around wearing T-shirts that are so low they look like man-dresses and then they slouch when they walk and say "yo" in between every word..... Well they actually exist in real life!! A couple came in today and the guy's like
"Suuuuuup, yeah I'd like a milkSHAKE puh-leeeaase" while doing all these hand gestures (not obsene ones, just yo-guy flourishes)
Me: "A Medium size OK?"
GangSTA#1: "Man, do I look like a medium guy to you? Imma gon' have a SUPASIZE"
GangSTA #2: Yeah dude, cuz he need it ta fill his stomach AN' his beard" (you should have seen the size of his goatee....look
So I get them their drinks and the other customers are cackling away at the jokes these two humongus, jovial creatures spewed in yo-talk. I swear I've never seen anyone so...ghetto! I had a urge to ask them if that was the way they really talked but I kept my mouth shut. Still, it brightenned my day and made me forget about the other customer I had accidentally spilt ketchup on ^__^;;
Weeeeeeeell, I started work at this fast-food joint; the hours suck, the fries smell like someone peed on them, and the customers come in alll sizes - literally. Big, small, bigger... REALLY BIG. I get all ethnicities, all ages, all stereotypes.
SPEAKING OF STEREOTYPES, you know those yo-man-yo, gangsta (not gangster, ganSTA) dudes you see on TV who go around wearing T-shirts that are so low they look like man-dresses and then they slouch when they walk and say "yo" in between every word..... Well they actually exist in real life!! A couple came in today and the guy's like
"Suuuuuup, yeah I'd like a milkSHAKE puh-leeeaase" while doing all these hand gestures (not obsene ones, just yo-guy flourishes)
Me: "A Medium size OK?"
GangSTA#1: "Man, do I look like a medium guy to you? Imma gon' have a SUPASIZE"
GangSTA #2: Yeah dude, cuz he need it ta fill his stomach AN' his beard" (you should have seen the size of his goatee....look
So I get them their drinks and the other customers are cackling away at the jokes these two humongus, jovial creatures spewed in yo-talk. I swear I've never seen anyone so...ghetto! I had a urge to ask them if that was the way they really talked but I kept my mouth shut. Still, it brightenned my day and made me forget about the other customer I had accidentally spilt ketchup on ^__^;;
Today I was struck by a quasi-epiphany
I was rummaging around all my old notebooks and sketches and poems which I gave incredibly embarrasing titles due to lack of imagination. Anyway, I came to a very brutal realisation: my poetry is shitty! I swear to god, everything was dark and melancholy and sure, it all rhymed but mostly thanks to monosyllabic words like 'you' and 'do'. Sad.
Want to hear sadder? Of course you do.
Naturally, I'm gonna keep doing my shitty poetry writing spree because it passes time and enables me to put off doing all the other stuff I should be doing instead (time for a funny emoticon) XD. But I think I'm gonna quit using it here because uh.....well...
Another quasi-epiphany
PS: SO I've had two quasi-epiphani
I'm an incredible lazy poet. The blistering, unfathomable cold, the endless winds, the constant snowfalls, the freezing flesh, the icicles hanging from the nose, the shoveling of driveways, the snowdays, the inifite aspects of complaint I could have tackled and all I could come up with were three lousy paragraphs about the notorious Winter season....
Winter
Soft ice melts upon my cheek
Winter kisses soft and sweet
Chilly breath caress my hair
My naked hands, exposed and bare
Stellar candles twinkle bright
The eyes of lost souls in the night
Their tears of snow fall from the sky
Silence is their only cry
Branches bend from snow white burdens
Wrapped in layers of white curtains
Each step in a laboured task
A cold world wearing beauty's mask.
Finaliiii saw Naruto Shippuuden har har. But man Sasukeeeeeee is so *drools* HAWT! Infact, he's so hot, that I feel obliged to mis-spell the word for the undignified HAWT! And started Deathnote too, needless to say my anime meter has been rising steadily. And to think I was almost ALMOST certain I didnt like anime anymore HAR!
And I finally found a musical instrument I would have the capacities to play without no teaching whatsoever. People, I am a natural at playing...the cowbell! HELL YEA! I shall go far...
More "Poetry"
If I...
If I had a penny for every penny I'd earn for you,
I'd be a billionaire
If I had a rose petal for every rose I'd pick for you,
I'd bathe in them every night
If I had a prayer for everytime I'd pray for you,
I'd be God
If I had a word for every poem I'd compose for you,
I'd be a dictionnary
If I had armor for every war I'd fight for you,
I'd be an army
If I gained wit for every problem I'd solve for you,
I'd be Einstein
If I had a ladder for everytime I'd stand up for you,
I could touch the stars
If I had a wound for every wound I'd take for you,
I'd be dead
If I had love for everytime I've loved you,
then it would still all be yours....
always....
Saw the Romeo and Juliet movie (Juliet's boobs looked like they were suffocating in her corset during the whole film...)and Mercutio was kick-ass! (Or in Shakesperian terms to make it more adequate, a blow in the donkey). He had this long monologue that was awsome because it made no sense, which I am putting up now cause I had to learn it by heart. Why? Because I can!
Oh then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you,
She is the fairies' midwife and she comes,
In shape no bigger than an agathe stone
On the forefinger of an alderman
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep
Her wagon spokes made of long spinner's legs
The covers of the wings of grasshoppers
Her traces of the smallest spider's web
Her collars of the moonshine's watery beams
Her whip of cricket's bone
The lash of film
Her wagonner a small grey-coated gnat
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub
Time out o'mind the fairies' coachmakers
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains and then they dream of love
O'er courtiers knees who dream on courtsies straight
O'er lawyers fingers who straight dream on fees
O'er ladies' lips who straight on kisses dream
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail
Tickling a parson's nose as a'lies asleep
Then dreams: he of another benefice
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades
Of healths five-fathom deep and then anon
Drums in his ear at which he starts and wakes
And being thus frightenned swears a prayer or two and sleeps again
This is that very Mab that plats the manes of horses in the night
And bakes the elf locks in foul sluttish hairs
Which once untangled much mistfortune bodes
This is the hag when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear
Making them women of good carriage
This is she-
PS: If you actually read this whole entire thing, please message me so I may laugh at your no-life (though that would be stupid, seeing as I'm the no-life who actaully took the time to write this damn thing down..)
Last night at precisely 12:30 AM I made rice crispy squares for the first time in my life. Only one problem: I'm sorta retarded in the cooking departement. I don't even LIKE cooking. But my mom's brillant boyfriend who's a royal pain in my ass just thought it would be nice. I thought it would be nice, mom thought it would be nice, we all thought it would be nice -- until I realised I was supposed to be making them.
I should add that he's the type of macho dude that does all this guy shit and thinks women should cook and clean while men go off to work to bring home the dough(except me and my mom are exactly the opposite of this...WHY she decided to date this buffoon is beyond me...)So anyway, I figure, ok, I'll make his stupid squares and let it be done. But yeah, I think if he knew how they would turn out, he would have made the damn things himself lol. Haha it was funny. There wasnt enough marshmellows in the mix so they just kind of crumbled and the ones that did turn out good werent exactly what you would call "square". More like rice-crispy-de
But you know what? After all that toil in the kitchen, it was worth it just to see his face do this sort of eye-popping thing when he saw my abomination. It put me in such a good mood, that I made muffins too :D
The Other Rant (and behold, it rhymes! Haha not giving up on poetry yet)
Where have all the smart people gone?
The children of intellect, philosophy's spawn?
Are our bachelor's degrees wasted on the obtuse
Our scholarships squandered on those with no use?
Our community lacks in spirits of strife
Wasted on all those damn people with no life
Who think their problems are the core of the world
And don’t bother to watch bigger problems unfurl
Their speeches consist of monosyllabic words
And making a sentence is a task yet unheard
They sit on their ass and complain about naught
And worldly affairs hardly give them a thought.
Where its easier to join a stereotypical group
Instead of letting your true person take root
A moronic world filled with labels and games
Who cares about self-worth when there's money and fame.
Socrates and Einstein, abandoned in a whim
For retards like Justin who think sexy is him.
Too bad J-T, you're not worth a buck
I'd rather shoot myself then have you to fuck
Is this the result of society's reign?
Where the bigger the breasts, the smaller the brain?
So to all you idiots, in Hell may you burn
Cause we need all the space for intellect's return.
Story for Halloween (no title cause I was too lazy hehe)
She drew the bedspread up tightly as he snuggled under the warm covers. She always lovingly tucked him in after the traditional One-more-story
Sleep was very far from catching him however.
The last residues of the pleasantly warm indestructible feeling of Mommy's presence was evaporating into thin air and Charlie couldn't help feeling a chill despite the many blankets bombarded onto his tiny 6-year-old body. He was live bait, waiting for his closet predators to jump out and swallow him whole.
Charlie snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye towards the ominous crack of his closet door. Still, the closet was separted from him be several feet of carefully carpeted floor which would give Charlie the time to scream, call for help, invoke his protective shield that had left the room only seconds before. Really, it was the one under the bed he was worried about.
Cocking his head to one side, his eyes open so wide, the veins popped, he listenned for any sound of movement. Was that the rustle of leaves on the trees right outside the window? Or was it the sound of something putrid smelling, hairy creature slithering in the unkown basement of his bed? There was no way for Charlie to know for sure. No way, except for him to listen and wait ...and worry.
***
He could smell the fresh scent of lavender soap: the result of a late bathtime. What a bummer. Soap tended to ruin the sweet taste of child flesh on the tongue. Succulent flesh...the best part. Mashing the tender organs between his lacerated canines. Sucking on the juicy bones for dessert! The scent was driving him wildly onward, waking the hungry beast inside his stomach. He wanted to rip, to tear, to kill that little shit who huddled in bed. Best of all, he could smell the sugar-coated terror as it wafted down in billowing clouds, its aroma sending a pleasant tingling sensation down his many spines. Yes, you better be very afraid, you little pathetic twat, 'cause soon, I'll be using your clavicle to pick your skin out of my teeth.....
***
Charlie's whole body was wrapped tightly in tension. A barely audible grunting sound could be heard and Charlie knew it wa coming. It was going to eat him up! He was pressing himself so hard against his mattress, he was almost afraid he would fall through right into the jaws of whatever was in hidding. He shut his eyes tight and tried to block out the repulsive slathering noises issuing from underneath.
......Go away......Just leave me alone......You
Too busy caught up in his mantra, Charlie failed to see the clawed hand, creeping up along the side of his mattress.
***
Yes...The little shit was within his reach. Only a little further and he would be feasting on femurs before long. He could feel the need for killing burning his insides, tearing him apart. Quick, grab the throat! Do it...NOW!!
A savage snarl erupted through his throat as his claws tore through the air.
***
He suddenly saw them. Reaching up along the side, three shiny human shish-kabob sticks aimed at his face. Spurred by horror, Charlie lunged out of the way just as three nails swipped through the air, stabbing his pillow. The fingers wriggled menacingly, expecting to feel warm blood and skin particles instead of torn linen and coton. This gave Charlie the opportunity he needed. Doing what every kid does best, he bared his small white teeth and dug them as hard as he could into the green mass, tearing a chunk away. Dark purple liquid gurgled form the bite mark as a wailing screech shook the whole bedroom. Gripping his ears, Charlie yelled: "Mommy!! Mommy!Mommy!!!
***
My first poem! It rhymes and everything. It just doesn't make much sense =_=;; Oh well, I tried....
SCORNED LUST
Her cavalier in plates of gold
Mounted on his steed of white
Alas denial grips her tight
Choking love inside its hold
On wings she'll rise if will agrees
Bound to earth by chians of doubt
Wings are burdens, feathers molt
Death to birds whose will doth freeze
Pretty maiden with golden hair
Whose presence defines beauty so
But blindness be her greatest foe
That shalt lead her to greater despair
Mind speak but ears cannot read
The sorrows the heart tries to share
He turns his shoulder on beauty fair
Her love, still waititng to be shed
Feathers gone now turned to dust
Inferno of love, now parted
She grasps the chance long departed
Hence the fate of scorned lust.
A thousand sparkling lights, mirrored from the giant disco ball, gyrated around the room as loud music propelled from the speakers. Big speakers for a big sound which made sense because since it was prom night, everything had to be big and loud and sparkly. Girls in their pricy dresses clustered around their tuxedo clad beaus, most sure that they were in love. As the music picked up to a Madonna tune, poeple started to get up on the dancefloor, the guys being reluctantly dragged on by their overeager partners. All those guys who didn't have dates stood moodily along the wall, conversing in low tones about how their mothers almost forced them into dad's embarrasingly bright mauve outfit from HIS prom night.
Laurie stood among her buddies, having a great time. Well, almost. But she couldn't help glancing around every few seconds looking for a person she knew probably wouldn't show up. Of course he wouldn't show up, he wasn't the type who'd spend cash on a tux just to stand around doing nothing. He would probably stay home, in the confort of his home, maybe having a few beers with other friends who didn't bother to show up either. She glanced around again. She'll never learn.
"Who're you looking for?" Steph, her friend, questionned. "You've been doing that for the past fifteen minutes".
"Hmm? Uhh...just thought I saw someone I know, thats all". Something seemed to sag in her as she continued to dnace with her friends. Her hips were swaying with a little less gutso then they had moments before.
Glance.
No sign.
Glance.
Still nothing.
Beating herself up mentally for being so obsessed, she willed herself to concentrate on the music and the laughter of her friends and not on the person whose appearance would stay absent.
(to be continued later when I can be arsed to)