Tag Archives: WAY too many drugs

The problem of identity. Also: writing this philosophy essay sucks

I am currently working on a philosophy essay plan, which is due Monday.  It’s driving me insane.  Here is the question:

Although the principle that our personal identity is preserved as long as we inhabit the numerically same body is plausible and well established (same body = same person idea), it seems questionable at times.  Consider the situation of Robert.  Robert used to be a very athletic person who spent all of his free time playing basketball and riding motorcycles.  In August 2002 Robert crashed his motorcycle and is now paraplegic.  Although Robert still has the same (numerical) body as before, he feels that he is not the same person since he cannot do the things he loves most. 

Do you agree with Robert? Explain and justify your reasoning to this by: Drawing on the works of at least two philosophers and one film from this course.

The thing is, in some ways I agree with Robert in that he is not the same person… but in other ways I don’t.  I believe it’s called ‘fence sitting’ and is not something I can do in writing this essay.

I will have to start by examining the body theory of identity, which to me is a logical theory, but is not in itself enough to constitute identity.  The fact that the body is constantly changing does not in itself constitute a change of identity (as far as I am concerned) as it is gradual and the cells themselves share a commonality as they grow and are expelled from the body.  We identify others by their physical appearance.  However, if person A had their consciousness transferred into a different body then would we still continue to identify them as the same person?  Intuitively I would think so.

If we look at identity being defined by psychological continuity, or by memory, then post-accident Robert is indeed still the same person as both his thought processes and memories are continuous with pre-accident Robert.  There are of course flaws with these theories also.  For example, if Robert lost all his memories in the accident, and his psychological continuity was eliminated, I would still consider him the same person.

These is also the theory that there is no self, and to think we have one is merely an illusion (Hume), and we are nothing more than a collection of perceptions.  But then what holds us together over time?  What gives our current perceptions context and meaning?  Our memories, perhaps.  Or maybe it’s just the thread that is woven between our perceptions creating an illusion of self.  If it is the case that we HAVE no self then what does this mean for Robert?

I like to think of people as a constantly changing and evolving thing.  Like the river analogy.  While you can’t step into the same water twice (as it’s constantly moving and changing) we would still identify it as the same river.  I think personality has the same fluidity, whether in regard to body, memory or perception.  Our past selves share commonality with our current selves, so while we are constantly changing we still remain identifiable as the same person.

I guess I do disagree with Robert after all.

I think my head just imploded.

Your thoughts and ideas about how I could formulate a reasonable essay plan around this question would be greatly appreciated.  I’ll buy you something pretty.


How Facebook made me sniff glue. Not really though.

I don’t go to Facebook very often.  Frankly because I get sick of seeing whose child has been recently toilet trained, or who has given who a plant/animal/sexually transmitted disease on those silly games they play.

But today while scrolling through the announcements of impending doom marriages, new engagements, pregnancies, job promotions and bowel movements I came to a rather harsh realization.

It seems while everyone else my age is falling in love, getting married and having babies I’ve been busy having abortions, getting divorced and making plans to go back to University.


Did you hear that?  Yep.  That’s was my emotional train de-railing.  The tinkle part was the shattering of my childhood dreams.

I realise it’s alright to be a wreck sometimes.  That it’s not THE END OF THE WORLD I’m fast approaching 30 and none of my dreams have yet been realized.  Lately, however, I seem to have lost all my strength and every single damn day is a struggle.

In this moment as I sit here wrapped up in my flaws and failings, safe in this uncomfortable but familiar bed I have made for myself I know I have two choices.

I can wish upon a star and just hope things work out for me.  Or I can change my attitude, and change my life.

So if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get out the dustpan and brush, pick up the pieces of my broken dreams and try to put them back together with cloth tape and superglue.  I won’t even sniff the glue.  Promise.

Then I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and keep fighting to make my dreams come true – or die trying.  Hopefully not in a train wreck though, because that would be kind of fucked up.

On a side note, the ‘i’ key has fallen off my keyboard and I’ve lost it.  After thoughtful consideration about writing this post completely without i’s and figuring that would make me look drunk be very hard to read I persevered.  You’re WELCOME.


And now for something COMPLETELY different

Okay okay.  So after my last effort of doom and gloom and destruction I thought I’d try my hand at something sweeter.  More innocent, hopeful and lovey-dovey like, even.

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.  Here you go.


The Reality Of You


I lie awake so late at night

Just wishing you were here

To hold me tightly in your arms

In my dreams it’s all so clear


You’ll call me from the corner

And tell me this time it’s for real

You are coming home to me tonight

We’ll tell the whole world how we feel


I know it’s corny

I know it’s cliché

And I shouldn’t feel like this

But I want you here for the rest of my life

Come save me with your kiss


Every time I tell you I adore you

It’s not half of how I feel

But how can I say that I love you

When none of this is real?


One day I know you’ll make me yours

That you won’t let me get away

But until that dream is realized

Behind these walls I’ll stay


I know it’s corny

I know it’s cliché

But you already have my heart

So don’t make me wait forever

or I might just fall apart


I know it’s corny

I know it’s cliché

You don’t even deserve this song

But how can something that feels so right

Ever end up being wrong?



And there you have it – something so sweet it makes my teeth hurt.  Lucky I know a *really* good dentist… Which reminds me of another story…

I’ll have to ‘fill you in’.  Oh, I do so crack myself up sometimes!


Naked women made me late for work. I blame the neighbours.

A few weeks ago (on a Monday, funnily enough), I woke up with this unnatural ability to be able to hear a fly landing on a dog turd half a mile away.  So, I figured, I had either developed super powers overnight, or I had one HELL of a headache.  And since, you know, I don’t wear my underwear on the outside, it was definitely the latter.

Anyway, I digress.

I took a few *cough* pills and sat in the shower (yeah, I sit in the shower sometimes, don’t judge me). Then, I got dressed for work, put on the darkest sunglasses I could find and zombie walked my way to the car.  It took me a whole five minutes to work out why I couldn’t see out my windscreen, cos hey? what’s a few more black dots right?  Until I realised they weren’t dots they were rectangles, and not black at all but full colour pictures of naked women. 

I am not making this shit up.  I got out the car and pulled two well known nudie mags from under my windshield wipers.  I looked around.

It was like I had woken up in heaven, IF I was actually a horny teenage boy.  Which I am not.  Surrounding me, on poles and fences and cars were centrefolds plastered as far as the eye could see.  Well, as far as my eyes could see, I had a headache remember?  There were lots of them.  Let’s leave it at that.

So, I am not really sure exactly what happened in my street the night before, but I am pretty sure that it has something to do with my neighbours.  You know, anyone who plays ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ 7 times in a row is totally headed for a breakdown of some kind.  Distributing porn mags is a sign of a breakdown right?

When I got to work, and told them naked women made me late, at first they didn’t believe me.  But apparently the magazines were enough to persuade them.  Or bribe them….

Apparently it’s not just Mondays that hate me. It’s the universe.

Hi, my name is Jelly, and I am addicted to breaking stuff.  And things.

Not intentionally, you understand, but I believe what I have to be called ‘Passion Fingers’.  You know, the disease where you fuck everything you touch.  That’s me.

And so, it didn’t surprise me AT ALL that my attempt to install a new hard drive in my desktop would go down in flames.  Well, smoke AND flames to be exact.

My power supply blew up.  And not the tiny little ‘pop’ type blowing up.  I mean the sparks-fire-smoke and a very loud ‘BANG’ type blowing up.  Oh joy.

I have a spare power supply, so I put that one in and tried again.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  It appears I managed to break it BEFORE I EVEN INSTALLED IT.  I really am that clever.

Also today – I have broken two glasses, 1 piece of pool hose, my new handbag strap and the mop.

And you know what?  None of this surprises me.  Pessimism pays off again.

Although, I just found out that MrFarty is being followed by Susan Boyle.  So things could be worse.

If I ever have a baby, I want the father to be Jesus

Not literally Jesus, as in the son of god, obviously.  Just someone who’s name is Jesus.  And not that I am intending on having any children, even at the ripe age of 27 my biological clock is FAR from ticking.

It just randomly enetered my head, that  it would be GREAT VALUE walking around carrying Jesus’s baby – oh the fun I could have!

I had a great conversation with an equally random friend of mine when I mentioned it to her…

HER:  So, how you been?

ME:    Great – got my lawn done.  Oh, and I decided that if i have a baby, I want the father to be Jesus

HER: Am guessing you don’t mean the son-of-god Jesus?  Because you know he’s dead right?

ME:  Sure, just any guy called Jesus will do.

HER: Oh!  Then you could be all like, hey, I am carrying Jesus’s baby, out my way Biartch!

ME:   Exactly… and when he is born, we could call him Jesus Jnr.

HER: Okay, so I guess you have a passport right?  First stop Mexico!

ME:  No, I will have to get a passport… Actually, why don’t you just get pregnant and call YOUR baby Jesus?

HER:  Great idea!  Then I could be carrying Jesus himself!

ME:  And I could be his god mother.  Imagine, Jesus’s godmother.  Of course, I’d want to be a fairy godmother…

HER:  Of course, I will even get you a costume.  And swear not to let the men in white suits take you away.

ME:  I love you.

I really love it when my friends understand me.  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside… Or maybe that’s just the medication.