Concierge, and a conceptual engineer
I am, in some respects, a being of habit. When I was younger, I was certainly a creature of fairly strict routine; whilst I've grown out of that (to the point of only now begining to haul myself out of being perpetually late for things), I do still have a certain fondness for things happening in a familiar way at familiar intervals.
This doesn't entirely explain the fact that at least once a week I will proclaim to anyone who happens to be in range that I am very, very glad that I am doing Philosophy A-level. The target tends to be a parent, or occaisionally Debz; but my friends at school are certainly not immune to being forced to listen to me explain some bizarre and obscure philosophical proof or argument or theory because I've just learnt about it and played with it and prodded it to see what makes it work and why it doesn't. (Todd seems especially vulnerable to this form of abuse, for which I should apologise for).
Today we looked at the ontological argument, and Alvin Plantinga's version of it in particular, which can be found here. It was rather good, and almost worked, and had me at good-natured loggerheads with my teacher because I didn't think it worked at all and she did. (Maximal greatness is not contingent with what I can't stop calling the Barnard-Stokes heresy). Apparently Professor Plantinga answers e-mails from people, so I'll try and read a propper version of the argument and then see what his reply is if my argument still holds water. Pretentiousness is fun.
In other news, my parents really enjoyed History Boys, and varios people have been very amused by my consierging. And Book nine has been read, because I am bad, but the reveiw will wait until tomorrow because mum wants the PC so she can go to bed.
This doesn't entirely explain the fact that at least once a week I will proclaim to anyone who happens to be in range that I am very, very glad that I am doing Philosophy A-level. The target tends to be a parent, or occaisionally Debz; but my friends at school are certainly not immune to being forced to listen to me explain some bizarre and obscure philosophical proof or argument or theory because I've just learnt about it and played with it and prodded it to see what makes it work and why it doesn't. (Todd seems especially vulnerable to this form of abuse, for which I should apologise for).
Today we looked at the ontological argument, and Alvin Plantinga's version of it in particular, which can be found here. It was rather good, and almost worked, and had me at good-natured loggerheads with my teacher because I didn't think it worked at all and she did. (Maximal greatness is not contingent with what I can't stop calling the Barnard-Stokes heresy). Apparently Professor Plantinga answers e-mails from people, so I'll try and read a propper version of the argument and then see what his reply is if my argument still holds water. Pretentiousness is fun.
In other news, my parents really enjoyed History Boys, and varios people have been very amused by my consierging. And Book nine has been read, because I am bad, but the reveiw will wait until tomorrow because mum wants the PC so she can go to bed.