A Strange Night
I spent the night at Dave & Buster’s with Matt (my sister’s fiancé … did you know that fiancé is French for “been engaged”? I didn’t!) and three of his friends (his half of the wedding party). It’s strange to hang out with a group of people that you don’t know, but that accepts your position well enough to be themselves around you. It was interesting to see how linguistic tendancies, socially acceptable topics, and overal demeanor change in different social groups. Some of it was mildly amusing, while other aspects really knocked home the notion that despite outward appearances (and several years), Matt and his friends are altogether a different sort of beast from the people I tend to associate with.
This is all a bit problematic, because, despite my acknowledgment of its obvious failures as a theory, I still like to cling to relativism as something by which to judge (or rather, not judge) people and actions. But relativism is generally accepted as being wrong (the ironic contradiction of relativism), and I don’t have answers to my questions, because just accepting universalism isn’t enough - you have to accept specific universal principles. And those, I’m afraid, I haven’t found.
Last night I spent up in the hills at Gary’s place, chilling with some friends in the pool, and it bugged me. Not the people, or the conversation, but the specific lack of meaning. Or rather, meaning to me. And this is terribly selfish of me, but I’ve grown accustomed to, thrive on, and almost crave the nights when we sit around and talk. Talk about things that seem important. Economics. Politics. Lifestyles. Life. I’m not sure if these discussions are actually important, but they do quite a bit in helping to shape my philosophies. And if the revolution comes, these are the conversations that will shape how we, as a generation, will act. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed just hanging out with these friends, and I suppose there’s somthing to be said for flipping channels in the company of friends (though I can’t think of what that something is at the moment), but I worry that far too few people enjoy as much as I do passionate discourse. And if that is the case, I worry further that realizing this will lead me to a form of elitism that I’d rather not possess.