factual perdition and the method

The great sin of facts is using them but ignoring others in a vain effort to support an ideal. We condemn our minds to something we like as opposed to what we are not brave enough to argue. We would rather be comfortable and ignore what we don't want to see, knowing that we are wrong and without the inspiration to get it right. This is willful ignorance. Not all people, but an alarming amount, desire stupidity as a subtext excuse for their petty lives.
I still find myself guilty of this from time to time. I have to examine my intentions for what I find to be right. Am I partial? Why? Does this intent of mine make my opinion false?
The unceasing self-investigation must be applied. This is my method. This is how I understand life. But I must be careful at every step. It is far too easy,after all, to taint perfectly good ideas. But what do I know about ideas?

Truth be told.

This is a matter that never really dies out for me. It never gets old and I think about it every day. Truth is becoming harder and harder to talk about, and more difficult to assert everyday.
Why should I bother you good people into reading what's on my mind? How could it possibly matter? Could my thoughts contribute a change in society? Or is that my misplaced optimism? I would like to think that people are good by nature. Why then is there evil for humanity to address?
Why must I confirm in my mind that what I believe to be truth by all of you out there? It seems to be a useless attempt at some sort of sanity; That we all desperately need but avoid figuring out.
Yes. Now my ugly secret is out. I'm another penniless philosopher, an artist of my own design. So often scorned, avoided, and self-repressed. Philosophers all know that most people don't like to talk about why. Particularly when it comes to their own beliefs. I am one of those ideological sociopaths. I must know what people believe, even if they themselves don't want to hear themselves say it.
Why are beliefs so embarrassing? I am certainly not ashamed of what I believe. I do know most people aren't going to want to hear me explain it. And if I am asked to, I try to keep it as succinct as possible. Few people want the full explanation: the anecdote, the logic, the conviction and the conclusion.
My opinions, as I try to state them humbly, are nothing of the sort. I am proud of them. Deeply proud of them. I am proud of them because most of my opinions have been sorted out of a kind of thought experiment, on my own; after which I run them by the few friends I have in order to see if the logic holds. I tired of reading philosophy. It was interesting in the utmost, but you see, I was not doing philosophy. I was trying to understand the obscure in archaic writings of people trying to express truth. Philosophy was never meant to explain the obscure. Instead philosophy is to explain the everyday occurrence. And if I read of each philosopher's explanation of the everyday, I would be cheating myself and their work of the opportunity to confirm logic.