So is it a class about some types of romantic literature, then? Anyway, I'd enroll in it.
Yes and no. We start with Walpole because that where this sort of mystic gothic material first came into its own, or so I'm given to understand. There's plenty of stuff from other ages too (Borges and Kafka are both modernists, after a fashion), like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Isabel Allende. If you mean romantic as in "has romance" rather than "from the Romantic age," then yes, there's some of that too, no doubt. I haven't read all of the books on the course list yet, so I couldn't say for sure.
I will say, however, that I can't picture any of them coming up to the high and extravagant standard set by Borges, who knocks things out of the park that should not even be able to be thrown, let alone hit.
Actually, a course devoted to Jane Austen seems very condign.
Like a nemesis.
I like her writing, too. Not as much as Emily Brontë's, I don't think, though . . .
Well, there are all sorts of problems with it, but I'm generally quite happy with her work in spite of them. As far as lady writers go, however, I much prefer Christine de Pizan and Flannery O'Connor.
I understand. I'm used to turning something on in the DVD player as background while I'm drawing/cleaning/chatting, etc. On weekend days I usually go through more than two. But a show I watch the whole way through with my full attention? Probably only two or so a day, as well.
Anymore, though, I'm less likely to watch movies rather than episodes from some series.
I like to listen to music while I'm doing other things, typically because I have to use my eyes when I'm reading or typing, but not my ears. The concept of putting a piece of such a highly visual medium on only to occupy your ears seems so weird to me, so I just don't do it.
When I watch a movie, I watch it. This is often disruptive to other things that I need/want to do, but it's worth it in the end for the nuances.
Ah, well, that makes sense. I don't really like big changes, either, except when I'm really in need of one (like right now - I'm in a rut).
Go to Rome. I'm told it's a city of Limitless Possibilities.
Do you have a favorite genre of book?
It's hard to say. I prefer collections of essays or belles-lettres to most anything else, but I also enjoy the pulp-type (but not always pulp, and certainly not always low-quality or gritty) novels of the mid-twentieth century. Stuff in the vein of C.S. Forester, Talbot Mundy, Dennis Wheatley, etc. Forester in particular is a firm favourite.
I find this comment to be strangely comforting. Maybe because that's secretly how I've always felt, and didn't know anyone else did. In recent years I've become aware that to me, life has mostly felt like a great, tiresome chore. I've been trying to change that, however, by changing myself . . .
I'm plenty satisfied with my life, but all of the genuine happiness that exists within it is hypothetical and takes place in the future. Right now I have to do all the work that leads up to those dividends, as it were, and it's a trying, preposterous ordeal (most of the time).
Anyway, I think you'll find that more people feel this general way than one might think. The ones that really get into it end up killing themselves, which is no good. I advise against that course of action.
It always seems like truly understanding any one person completely is not really possible. However, I think the effort is probably always worth it.
Absolutely! Particularly as it's a reflective experience. It is by now perhaps a tired trope that teachers have much to learn from students, but it is absolutely the case. In much the same way, in examining and understanding someone else, we make it that much easier to understand our own bewildering selves.
You seem to be the kind of person one would really need to know in real life to understand much about.
Maybe. I spend so much time alone, however, that there are few opportunities for people to really form a picture of what it is that I'm actually about. The problem runs both ways, of course, much to my occasional frustration.
This is the price that is paid for working hard, as well as for having a past that is not, perhaps, what one might wish it to have been. I have not always been a cheerful or friendly person, and the idea that other people have something of value in them, and that spending time with them in a social context is a good thing, has only trickled into my head comparatively recently, and does not always dominate at that.
I credit the noble Chesterton for breaking down that wall (or at least beginning to), among countless others. I'm sure Senori would concur.
Quote from Yukora »
How do you find the time for studies, reading, and movies? I can only assume you also work, and if that's the case, then that is quite a packed day.
Well, let's see. First, the job I do have is transcribing Canadian poetry to a database of the stuff, and can be done whenever I like. I don't actually study for tests or exams or anything, so that doesn't take any time, and I only rarely do any course readings unless I think they'd interest me otherwise (for example, moving into the fifth month of my course in Shakespeare, I have yet to read a word of him beyond what I had to memorize the two times I performed in one of his plays, and what we've gone over in class; I may make an exception for Measure for Measure, however, which looks uncommonly good).
I'm good at internalizing things, and getting to the spirit of something rather than (necessarily) the letter. I'm better at extrapolating a thing, that is, than simply explaining it. This comes in handy for seminars and lectures, but only fitfully for tests. The upshot of this, however, is that I can basically be "studying" at any time of the day, no matter what else I happen to be doing. Because I read so many books and watch so many films, I have what I suppose to be an enormous corpus of ideas and understanding (and, vitally, references) through which to shove any classwork, and which thereby make me seem like a freaking genius when it comes time to tell them what I know. This is a hideous fraud, however, because I'm actually just a lazy jerk who does the bare minimum of work and spends the rest of his time kicking back.
I get grades of such sufficient (often obscene) height that I am not moved, and never have been, to work harder than I do. This gives me more time to do the things I like, which are, tangentially, essential to my current success.
Don't learn from me, I beg you. I am a Bad Example. I hope this answer hasn't been alarming.
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Then loom'd his streaming majesty From out that wine-dark fog, And spake he unto all our crew: "Go forth, and read my blog."
Nick: Incidentally, that has always been my method of "studying". I tend to just sort of absorb things without trying, and was thereby able to do well in high school without actually putting forth any significant effort. It was also certainly convenient that my personal interests happen to coincide with academia.
Sephiroth Owa: Welcome
EDIT:
For all the freelance academics out there---and even for you real students---I'd like to mention and endorse Wikiversity, a sister project of Wikipedia and run by the parent company Wikimedia. It's a sort of collaborative, free-content online university for the autodidacts whom Senori so scorns (;)). It's still in its beginnings, and needs help. If that sort of thing interests you, head over.
I know what you mean, T2, I have never really had the need to study for anything. I do find, however, that with my junior year, studying is almsot required. With all the work that I have been assigned, it is very easy to lose track of everything. But, I doubt you cam really empathize with such a problem.
I can empathize, mostly because my high school assigned a major essay during the junior year, the so-called Junior Essay: a ten page research paper on a topic in American literature. The required pre-writing work includes a minimum of six sources and 50 notecards, which was a pain in the ass. During that period, it became rather difficult to keep up with the rest of my work. Senior year, the same problem was accentuated by the mandatory Senior Essay: a 20 page persuasive paper on a social topic of our choosing. Minimum of 10 sources and 100 notecards.
With assignments like those, it becomes very easy to lose track and become overwhelmed.
In that case, I am very glad I am not going to the school you attended. The most I can complain about is a former Chemistry professor that doesn't know how to teach high-school level students. Normally, this wouldn't matter much, but I plan on pursuing a career in pharmaceuticals.
I'll have you know, I always read your longer posts. If you take the effort to put that much into what you are discussing, then it is more than worth the read. The only reason why I rarely respond to such posts is that I usually find myself agreeing with your every word, and posts like QFT are considered spam. I will, however, do my best to respond constructively to them from now on, as I would love tp give you a miniature Christmas.
I know you do, sweetness, and I appreciate it. I wasn't really complaining, per se. You know I still dig that whole Coffeehouse crowd.
Quote from Yukora »
How do you find the time for studies, reading, and movies? I can only assume you also work, and if that's the case, then that is quite a packed day.
Superpowers.
Quote from Magic Mage »
Add 'lascivious' to that, and I would be even more inclined to uphold that opinion; oh, and Freud can be attributed to misogynistic vocabulary.
I think his misogyny extends beyond his vocabulary . . .
Quote from Magic Mage »
Hello, . . . Mamelon (I'm sorry, but I do not know your name).
That's fine. I share my real name with people as kind of an act of confidence . . . I don't think I've ever revealed it using these boards or PMs as a medium.
I'm probably never going to post in the First Name thread, or whatever it is called.
Quote from Magic Mage »
Yes, I probably can understand the causes of your surprise; I do not, after all, make the most conducive of statements, and frequent the Debate forum, let alone Philosophy', but when there is the opportunity to learn from the greatest of minds among those on the boards, I would like to capitalize on that, while acquainting the fine fellows who shape the brains trust.
Actually, now that I think of it, not such a surprise. You did say you like all things involving edification and enculturation. The surprise probably arises from the realization that this clan has only recently resurfaced.
Quote from Magic Mage »
With my rudimentary comprehension of German, "Wie geht es Ihnen?" reads as a formal "How are you?", which is also the rendition from German to English as "Wie geht es dir?". I can only say that I'm ok, at the moment
Well great.
Quote from Magic Mage »
as for academia, I am brushing up work of years past - particle physics and other facets, fields, and theories of physics that strike me fancy - for no apparent reason, and I can affirm that I am not, by profession, a physicist.
I understand the desire to read about them. Learning is fun!
Physics is sligthly over my head, I think. I'm better at all that soft stuff, like literature and psychology and so on.
A lot of my edification is self-edification. So I'm a bit of a bumpkin when it comes to academics.
Quote from Magic Mage »
Maybe we should converse over another channel, Mamelon.
Like . . telepathy?
Quote from T2 »
To my capitalist mind, that makes even less sense than the minimum wage. Price ceilings cause shortages.
I guess if there were any ideal icon for capitalism, it'd be the stalwart and independent entrepreneur.
Quote from Einsteinmonkey »
Implying that...?
My opinion is that more often than not, people have more similarities in terms of ideas, feelings, and experiences than they realize. But I guess that's not so much a theory as intuition.
Quote from Furor »
Yes and no. We start with Walpole because that where this sort of mystic gothic material first came into its own, or so I'm given to understand. There's plenty of stuff from other ages too (Borges and Kafka are both modernists, after a fashion), like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Isabel Allende. If you mean romantic as in "has romance" rather than "from the Romantic age," then yes, there's some of that too, no doubt. I haven't read all of the books on the course list yet, so I couldn't say for sure.
I will say, however, that I can't picture any of them coming up to the high and extravagant standard set by Borges, who knocks things out of the park that should not even be able to be thrown, let alone hit.
I did mean romantic with a little "r," as in having romantic qualities.
Borges, eh? Never heard the name, I'll have to look it up now. I love all kinds of fantasy/fantasy-like literature.
I haven't read a good work of fictional prose in a long time, though. It's kind of sad. It used to be that I was never without two or three books to carry around. Now it's mostly visual stuff like graphic novels and art books. I wonder where that shift came about.
In any case, I hope you enjoy it. You're an English major? Are you aiming for any specific vocation, or would I be right to assume that English is just your strongest academic interest?
Quote from Furor »
Like a nemesis.
:xd:
Quote from Furor »
Well, there are all sorts of problems with it, but I'm generally quite happy with her work in spite of them. As far as lady writers go, however, I much prefer Christine de Pizan and Flannery O'Connor.
Ooooh. What kinds of writers are they?
Quote from Furor »
I like to listen to music while I'm doing other things, typically because I have to use my eyes when I'm reading or typing, but not my ears. The concept of putting a piece of such a highly visual medium on only to occupy your ears seems so weird to me, so I just don't do it.
Oh . . . I don't know. I have this thing with listeing to peoples' voices, including listening to speech.
Quote from Furor »
When I watch a movie, I watch it. This is often disruptive to other things that I need/want to do, but it's worth it in the end for the nuances.
It's good to know I'm not the only person who feels that movies are more than just empty entertainment.
Quote from Furor »
Go to Rome. I'm told it's a city of Limitless Possibilities.
As much as I like the idea of that particular kind of possibility, I don't know if I need a change that great.
Right now I'd settle for a new job.
Quote from Furor »
It's hard to say. I prefer collections of essays or belles-lettres to most anything else, but I also enjoy the pulp-type (but not always pulp, and certainly not always low-quality or gritty) novels of the mid-twentieth century. Stuff in the vein of C.S. Forester, Talbot Mundy, Dennis Wheatley, etc. Forester in particular is a firm favourite.
The first I'd anticipated, the second, perhaps not. It's good to be surprised about people, though, I think.
I wish I'd read half of those authors. You have quite a library under your belt.
Quote from Furor »
I'm plenty satisfied with my life, but all of the genuine happiness that exists within it is hypothetical and takes place in the future. Right now I have to do all the work that leads up to those dividends, as it were, and it's a trying, preposterous ordeal (most of the time).
Hmmm. Sounds about right. It's interesting seeing someone else say all this, as I usually am called negative for voicing it.
For most of my life, I have felt that hope and anticipation have been the only constant "goods." However, I've been going through some changes recently, one of which entails an apparent tendency to find surprising joy in small, insignificant details in life.
It doesn't mean I still don't dread each new morning just a little bit.
Quote from Furor »
Anyway, I think you'll find that more people feel this general way than one might think. The ones that really get into it end up killing themselves, which is no good. I advise against that course of action.
Funny you should mention that. I decided against all that about a year or so ago . . . sometimes I question that choice, as I imagine many do, but so far it's turned out alright.
Quote from Furor »
Absolutely! Particularly as it's a reflective experience. It is by now perhaps a tired trope that teachers have much to learn from students, but it is absolutely the case. In much the same way, in examining and understanding someone else, we make it that much easier to understand our own bewildering selves.
The idea that we can't absolutely know someone can seem disheartening . . . but after a certain fashion, I'd almost say it's a good thing. There's always more to people to keep finding. There's never a want for more uncharted territory (not to say that a person is something so simple as a landscape). People are never really boring.
And, as you say, we usually don't even really know ourselves. I can attest to that. A while back I decided, a person is not a mere object, but a real, multi-dimensional, and infinitely rich microcosmic world.
Yeah, I kinda like people.
Quote from Furor »
Maybe. I spend so much time alone, however, that there are few opportunities for people to really form a picture of what it is that I'm actually about. The problem runs both ways, of course, much to my occasional frustration.
Well, you know, I can relate to that problem. Ambivalence between wanting solitude and not wanting loneliness, at least in my case.
I am often sharply aware that few people understand me, and yet it's my own doing because I don't let people come to be in a position in which they could understand me. One time, I saw that it was a desire for all the things one can gain from letting oneself be vulnerable, and yet not wishing to actually risk it.
I suppose that after all is said and done, there is a certain beauty in simply letting life have its way with you.
Quote from Furor »
This is the price that is paid for working hard, as well as for having a past that is not, perhaps, what one might wish it to have been. I have not always been a cheerful or friendly person, and the idea that other people have something of value in them, and that spending time with them in a social context is a good thing, has only trickled into my head comparatively recently, and does not always dominate at that.
I credit the noble Chesterton for breaking down that wall (or at least beginning to), among countless others. I'm sure Senori would concur.
I doubt you're alone in that. Who's Chesterton, by the way?
Quote from Furor »
Well, let's see. First, the job I do have is transcribing Canadian poetry to a database of the stuff, and can be done whenever I like.
*resentment*
Quote from Furor »
I'm good at internalizing things, and getting to the spirit of something rather than (necessarily) the letter.
This is a gift, though. I have an easier time retaining concepts and relationships rather than raw facts like names and dates. I always have an easier time understanding something if it interests me, in which case one exposure usually lasts. I understand your meaning.
Quote from Furor »
I'm better at extrapolating a thing, that is, than simply explaining it. This comes in handy for seminars and lectures, but only fitfully for tests. The upshot of this, however, is that I can basically be "studying" at any time of the day, no matter what else I happen to be doing. Because I read so many books and watch so many films, I have what I suppose to be an enormous corpus of ideas and understanding (and, vitally, references) through which to shove any classwork, and which thereby make me seem like a freaking genius when it comes time to tell them what I know. This is a hideous fraud, however, because I'm actually just a lazy jerk who does the bare minimum of work and spends the rest of his time kicking back.
I like the way you put this, and I find it identifiable. I remember feeling like an imposter during most of my school years. Probably because I, too, am chronically lazy despite apparent aptitude. We're more similar than I had thought.
Incidentally, how long have you been attending university?
Quote from Furor »
Don't learn from me, I beg you. I am a Bad Example.
Well . . . bad examples can sometimes be among the most educational.
Quote from T2 »
Nick: Incidentally, that has always been my method of "studying". I tend to just sort of absorb things without trying, and was thereby able to do well in high school without actually putting forth any significant effort. It was also certainly convenient that my personal interests happen to coincide with academia.
It's neat to know other people were like that, too. I think I might be in trouble in college because I never developed any really good studying habits.
Maybe this is partially why some people feel . . . affronted by some facets of adult life. Namely, that sincere effort often pulls more weight than talent. I had a hard time learning that as I started my whole writing business.
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the light that you see. All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the peace that you feel. All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to fill your heart on my own.
But the rainbow is an image of hope for many reasons, as it is a brilliant sight coming out of oftimes dismal weather.
I wish I could remember what I was actually saying there. Like the context and all.
Somebody was talking about a specific person pulling arguments out of a hat.
White is the most evil colour. And the person who lives next door deserves all of the swear words I throw at her (not at her face, though I wish I had the courage to do so).
I'm so very glad that I've taken the time to establish rapport with the librarians at the universities my friends attend. Some of them know me well enough from visiting those friends that they've granted me access to the university libraries, which is normally restricted to student use.
I did mean romantic with a little "r," as in having romantic qualities.
Oh, well. Then, "yes," but not primarily.
Borges, eh? Never heard the name, I'll have to look it up now. I love all kinds of fantasy/fantasy-like literature.
Yes, you do have to look it up. His short stories and essays are the best of his work, and are conveniently collected in a nice, cheap volume called Labyrinths. One of his specialties is writing beautiful, thought-provoking, delicate essays on books and people that don't exist.
If that sounds like your sort of thing, by all means, go for it.
I haven't read a good work of fictional prose in a long time, though. It's kind of sad. It used to be that I was never without two or three books to carry around. Now it's mostly visual stuff like graphic novels and art books. I wonder where that shift came about.
It's hard to say. One day I just "turned on" to comic books and graphic novels again after a gap of like fifteen years. Now there are few things I like better.
If necessary, I would be happy to provide a concise list of recommended prose.
In any case, I hope you enjoy it. You're an English major? Are you aiming for any specific vocation, or would I be right to assume that English is just your strongest academic interest?
I intend to be an English professor, though with an eye more to teaching than to strictly research. I only began taking English courses because I found them easy, but I soon discovered that I found them easy because I loved them, and, so, here we are. I'm eminently qualified for the job, in any event, so I don't foresee any problems making it work. It's just going to be a long road to get there, is all. Ideally I would specialize in the moderns, like Chesterton, Shaw, Wells, Belloc, Beerbohm, Wilde, etc., but I also have a deep and abiding love for the English nobs of the 18th century. I've written many a happy paper on the likes of Samuel Johnson and Oliver Goldsmith, but I just don't know if I'd be as good at teaching them as I would the others.
Ooooh. What kinds of writers are they?
Christine de Pizan was the first professional woman writer (if you don't count Sappho, which I don't, because she's too mysterious and weird), producing stories, poetry, and scholarly treatises in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Her best-known work is The City of Ladies, in which she goes to bat against misogyny by demonstrating the many superior qualities of her sex. She writes beautifully and thoughtfully, and to read her is to wonder just what tragedy occurred to make a tradition that began with her end up with the likes of Germaine Greer.
Flannery O'Connor, by contrast, was an eccentric and serious-minded woman who produced a good number of short stories, two novels, and a great deal of correspondence, lectures and speeches during her short life (39 years). Her field was the American South, where she herself lived all her life, and her subject was what we could call "Dark Grace," in which hideous instances of the grotesque work their magic upon awful people, hopefully for the better. There are no nice characters in her stories, and those that are the "nicest" are also the most likely to meet terrible ends. The style could be called "Southern Gothic," and they're simply wonderful. Check out the collection, Everything That Rises Must Converge for a good sampling of what she's about. "The Enduring Chill," one of the stories therein, nearly broke me.
Oh . . . I don't know. I have this thing with listeing to peoples' voices, including listening to speech.
Oh, well, of course. I guess I just feel like I'm missing something if I'm not watching a movie as well as listening to it. I've never been able to get into lectures or books on tape, either, which is kind of odd. And it's a shame, because that would be very convenient.
The first I'd anticipated, the second, perhaps not. It's good to be surprised about people, though, I think.
It's hard to pin down what I like into tidy categories, unfortunately. The second one was just something I came up with after really thinking about it, and is not even entirely accurate. Oh well.
I wish I'd read half of those authors. You have quite a library under your belt.
Too many, honestly. My room is so full of books that I'm running out of space for other things.
Hmmm. Sounds about right. It's interesting seeing someone else say all this, as I usually am called negative for voicing it. For most of my life, I have felt that hope and anticipation have been the only constant "goods." However, I've been going through some changes recently, one of which entails an apparent tendency to find surprising joy in small, insignificant details in life. It doesn't mean I still don't dread each new morning just a little bit.
The time spent lying in bed after the alarm goes off is some of the most satisfying of the day. I purposefully wake up two hours earlier than I need to, every single day, just to do this. It's worth it.
I don't know if I'd say I dread the mornings, but I'm never happy to discover that I'm tired enough to go to sleep.
What sort of things have you found joy in recently?
Funny you should mention that. I decided against all that about a year or so ago . . . sometimes I question that choice, as I imagine many do, but so far it's turned out alright.
It's always better the alternative. Life has too much to offer for it to deserve such scorn as a suicide heaps upon it.
The idea that we can't absolutely know someone can seem disheartening . . . but after a certain fashion, I'd almost say it's a good thing. There's always more to people to keep finding. There's never a want for more uncharted territory (not to say that a person is something so simple as a landscape). People are never really boring.
And, as you say, we usually don't even really know ourselves. I can attest to that. A while back I decided, a person is not a mere object, but a real, multi-dimensional, and infinitely rich microcosmic world.
Yeah, I kinda like people.
That's a good approach. How does this play into the matter when people are pissing you off, however? It can't feel good to have an entire world making you angry (apart, that is, from the actual world).
Well, you know, I can relate to that problem. Ambivalence between wanting solitude and not wanting loneliness, at least in my case.
Let's be frank, here. It's not just a question of ambivalence, but rather of perpetual, devastating ignorance. I have no frakking clue what it is that I want. I mean, I know that I "want" certain feelings and theories, but I have no idea what sort of physicalities are necessary to bring them into reality.
This, above all, is the most distressing thing in my life. I can't form any plans. I can't make any goals. It's like charging into fog, knowing only that beyond the fog there's something better, but not where "beyond" actually is, if it's even anywhere.
I am often sharply aware that few people understand me, and yet it's my own doing because I don't let people come to be in a position in which they could understand me. One time, I saw that it was a desire for all the things one can gain from letting oneself be vulnerable, and yet not wishing to actually risk it.
That sounds about right. It's actually disgraceful, honestly.
I suppose that after all is said and done, there is a certain beauty in simply letting life have its way with you.
That is one of the facets of Christian humility.
I doubt you're alone in that. Who's Chesterton, by the way?
Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936) was one of the most gifted and beloved writers of his times, and yet is now almost entirely neglected by everyone. He wrote about a hundred books, contributed to a hundred more, produced several hundred poems and over four thousand essays, all of them dealing with every topic you could possibly imagine, with wit, elegance, clarity and passion. He wrote what T.S. Eliot and noted biblophile Peter Ackroyd have called the finest biography of Dickens ever produced. His biography of Thomas Aquinas won similar praise from Etienne Gilson, the foremost Thomistic scholar of his time. His treatment of Robert Browning revolutionized both Browning studies and the field of literary biography. The list goes on and on. Michael Collins carried a copy of Chesterton's The Napoleon of Notting Hill around with him in his pocket during his strivings for Irish freedom. Gandhi cites one of Chesterton's essays as inspiration for his decision to resist the English. C.S. Lewis claimed that Chesterton's history of the world, The Everlasting Man, was one of the most profound influences on his road to becoming the Christian he was.
He debated Bertrand Russell and Clarence Darrow (and won). He interviewed Mussolini. He argued with Thomas Hardy about pessimism in a publisher's waiting room. He once lived next door to Henry James. He had an audience with Pope Pius XI, who later conferred upon him the title of "Fidei Defensor," usually reserved for monarchs. He was best friends with H.G. Wells and George Bernard Shaw (whom he first met, it is said, in Rodin's studio), disagreeing with them violently on essentially every issue about which they could reasonably debate, and yet being the first in their affections regardless. He produced travelogues of his voyages to the Holy Land, and to Poland, and to Ireland, and to America, and to Italy. His Father Brown stories are some of the most beloved in all of detective fiction. He wore a cape and a big floppy hat and carried a swordstick around with him in 1920's England.
And so on and so on. And, because he was neither a socialist nor an atheist, he is basically ignored; passed over by his friends Shaw and Wells. He wrote more and better than either of them, but one wouldn't know it to see a typical University curriculum. I could have graduated from this school under the impression that the man never existed were it not for some strokes of luck and a lot of snooping around.
That, in brief, is who Chesterton is, was, and forever more shall be. If you ever have several years to kill, a substantial number of his works are available online here. I recommend this short, spritely essay as an introduction to his style.
Incidentally, it is on the subject of Chesterton that I shall be writing my Masters Thesis.
This is a gift, though. I have an easier time retaining concepts and relationships rather than raw facts like names and dates. I always have an easier time understanding something if it interests me, in which case one exposure usually lasts. I understand your meaning.
That's precisely the problem. I just don't think about stuff that doesn't interest me, and I may as well have been doing nothing for all the good some of my previous courses have done me. I took courses in Physics and Political Science and (regrettably) German (regretable because it's my one truly terrible grade in University), but I don't remember anything about any of it, now.
It's a gift, as you say, but it is occasionally difficult and frustrating.
I like the way you put this, and I find it identifiable. I remember feeling like an imposter during most of my school years. Probably because I, too, am chronically lazy despite apparent aptitude. We're more similar than I had thought.
It's like you were saying to that other guy about how people are the same etc.
Also, throughout High School I felt very badly about the people who got marks just slightly lower than mine but only got them because they were trying really, really hard. I don't anymore, because those bastards are out to get my grant money, but back then it seemed highly unfair.
Incidentally, how long have you been attending university?
I am currently in my fourth and final year of an Honours BA. If all goes according to plan, I'll have my MA by the time I'm 23, and my PhD by the time I'm 28. (I am 21 at the moment).
Well . . . bad examples can sometimes be among the most educational.
True, but only if they're cautionary. Mine is not. I've screwed the pooch for the last eight years and what do I have to show for it? Unqualified success, the lauds of my superiors and the adulation of my peers. That's not exactly something you can just emulate.
Quote from Einsteinmonkey »
Somebody was talking about a specific person pulling arguments out of a hat.
Oh. I wonder why they decided to call it "Magic Realism"?
For a second I almost believed that you were being taught actual magic. As in, spells (not sleight of hand).
Quote from Furor »
Yes, you do have to look it up. His short stories and essays are the best of his work, and are conveniently collected in a nice, cheap volume called Labyrinths. One of his specialties is writing beautiful, thought-provoking, delicate essays on books and people that don't exist.
If that sounds like your sort of thing, by all means, go for it.
*gasp* That sounds exactly like my sort of thing. Beautiful? Thought-provoking? Delicate? Don't exist? All of my favorite descriptors for a thing or person!
Quote from Furor »
It's hard to say. One day I just "turned on" to comic books and graphic novels again after a gap of like fifteen years. Now there are few things I like better.
I think one reason I have an affinity for graphic novels is because I get this sensory satisfaction from looking at hand-drawn art . . . especially of human beings, faces and hands and so on. Have you ever found something that was just unusually fulfilling and relaxing in an almost sensual way? I just respond that way to images. And anything written or drawn by hand . . . for instance, I consider a note written by hand (as opposed to typed) to be quite intimate and personal . . . In addition, I typically think in images or colors rather than sentences, so maybe it's more "my language," despite my general love of writing.
Quote from Furor »
If necessary, I would be happy to provide a concise list of recommended prose.
Well you pose some material already . . . I've been trying to get myself back into fictional prose, because that is what I like to write, but I like non-fantastic ("mundane") work as well . . .
Quote from Furor »
I intend to be an English professor, though with an eye more to teaching than to strictly research. I only began taking English courses because I found them easy, but I soon discovered that I found them easy because I loved them, and, so, here we are. I'm eminently qualified for the job, in any event, so I don't foresee any problems making it work. It's just going to be a long road to get there, is all. Ideally I would specialize in the moderns, like Chesterton, Shaw, Wells, Belloc, Beerbohm, Wilde, etc., but I also have a deep and abiding love for the English nobs of the 18th century. I've written many a happy paper on the likes of Samuel Johnson and Oliver Goldsmith, but I just don't know if I'd be as good at teaching them as I would the others.
Well, see, I think it's a pretty admirable goal. My mother used to always tell me I should be a professor, and I always assumed she was teasing. However, it sounds like it'd a killer job.
I don't know much about you in depth, but I know a few things about both English and about instruction, and you seem to be just the sort of fellow who'd thrive at that. Not that you didn't already realize this.
If you had to make a distinction, would you say that you are predominantly a "thinker" (your chief style of processing ideas is rationalistic) or "feeler" (style is oriented toward values and interpersonal experience)? I couldn't tell.
I imagine making use of both such faculties would be good for teaching.
Quote from Furor »
Christine de Pizan was the first professional woman writer (if you don't count Sappho, which I don't, because she's too mysterious and weird), producing stories, poetry, and scholarly treatises in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Her best-known work is The City of Ladies, in which she goes to bat against misogyny by demonstrating the many superior qualities of her sex. She writes beautifully and thoughtfully, and to read her is to wonder just what tragedy occurred to make a tradition that began with her end up with the likes of Germaine Greer.
Flannery O'Connor, by contrast, was an eccentric and serious-minded woman who produced a good number of short stories, two novels, and a great deal of correspondence, lectures and speeches during her short life (39 years). Her field was the American South, where she herself lived all her life, and her subject was what we could call "Dark Grace," in which hideous instances of the grotesque work their magic upon awful people, hopefully for the better. There are no nice characters in her stories, and those that are the "nicest" are also the most likely to meet terrible ends. The style could be called "Southern Gothic," and they're simply wonderful. Check out the collection, Everything That Rises Must Converge for a good sampling of what she's about. "The Enduring Chill," one of the stories therein, nearly broke me.
I especially like the sound of Flannery O'Connor . . . I have a roommate who might love that.
Quote from Furor »
It's hard to pin down what I like into tidy categories, unfortunately. The second one was just something I came up with after really thinking about it, and is not even entirely accurate. Oh well.
I guess categorization is sort of overrated, anyway.
Quote from Furor »
The time spent lying in bed after the alarm goes off is some of the most satisfying of the day. I purposefully wake up two hours earlier than I need to, every single day, just to do this. It's worth it.
I don't know if I'd say I dread the mornings, but I'm never happy to discover that I'm tired enough to go to sleep.
I object to mornings a lot less than I once did . . . usually it the first few hours of work during which I am most uncomfortable with being alive. My favorite time of day, conversely, is when I am lying in bed and waiting for sleep to take me. Sometimes it takes a while, but I know it will come and in the meantime, I am perfectly safe. To me, that's peace.
The runner-up would probably be the moment I get home from work.
Quote from Furor »
What sort of things have you found joy in recently?
Tea. All kinds of tea.
I sit amongst about a dozen people nearby me at work . . . we often sit and chat during the idle times of day. I will usually listen to the ladies around me talking about their lives, including their children, their financial problems, their grievances and their pleasures, and I feel strangely as if it's all worth it. It's maybe a little inappropriate, because many times they don't talk about positive things, and smiling at that seems uncondign . . . but I like knowing things about other people. Not dirt or secrets, really, but simple, ordinary things.
I've also come to appreciate sunlight. Being of fair complexion I used to avoid it, but now I find it very welcome. Plus, when it's out the sky becomes my favorite shade of blue.
I'm beginning to appreciate more things I typically take for granted, such as the family members I see every day. Cooking (and act which I love). Various scents, of which I have wide access thanks to this little website that sells scented oils. And the sensations of blankets, sheets, and new clothes.
And - this may strike you as perverse - the pain of everyday life. Sometimes one witnesses oneself as if from outside, and you see all the links you have between all those others that pass by quite vividly . . . at least at first, we see others as objects, as things that float around before our senses but that don't touch us. On occasion, one connects subject and object. You might see a poor soul whom you pity or someone grand whom you admire . . . it always feels, to me, like it eventually goes deeper than that. Without making qualifying judgments, there's just something simple and entrancing about these imperfect, small, ugly, and beautiful people. Maybe they're closer than it looks? Maybe not? Sometimes I see myself as I see them, or I see them as I see myself, and everything makes sense for a while.
I'm not sure what I'm really saying anymore. I think I get a little incoherent as the night deepens . . . hopefully you get the idea.
What about you?
Quote from Furor »
It's always better the alternative. Life has too much to offer for it to deserve such scorn as a suicide heaps upon it.
Oh, I agree. To me, I often feel like like if I were to admit that suicide were appropriate for me, in an oblique way I'd be approving of others ending their lives because they'll never be just right. That's slightly . . . political, I guess, but that's how it feels. I dislike that. I think everyone both deserves and needs to make use of the lives they have, and appreciate themselves for real (as oposed to appreciating simple self-image). Including me.
Quote from Furor »
That's a good approach. How does this play into the matter when people are pissing you off, however? It can't feel good to have an entire world making you angry (apart, that is, from the actual world).
I often feel that when I am angry, it's like I'm wearing a shade over my eyes, and when I start to see the person again, my anger weakens. It's hard to explain. It's gotten harder and harder to hold any kind of grudge as time goes on. I'm not complaining, to be sure.
When others are angry at me . . . I find it difficult not to take that extremely seriously. Maybe it frightens me in a way. Maybe I don't want to be seen through a shade?
Quote from Furor »
Let's be frank, here. It's not just a question of ambivalence, but rather of perpetual, devastating ignorance. I have no frakking clue what it is that I want.
Quote from Furor »
This, above all, is the most distressing thing in my life. I can't form any plans. I can't make any goals. It's like charging into fog, knowing only that beyond the fog there's something better, but not where "beyond" actually is, if it's even anywhere.
You know, that's a really good way of putting it. I can relate to this so well I almost want to laugh. It seems like discovering this should be a simple matter. Apparently, it isn't, because I'm still sitting here, too.
What has been easier for me has been to decide what I need. In other words, what's good for me. What's pressing. External stress forces action, I suppose.
There's still that big, overhanging ambiguity . . . I often feel like I'm just taking the paths of least resistance.
Quote from Furor »
That sounds about right. It's actually disgraceful, honestly.
That must be what I thought about it, as well. It's probably less difficult of an endeavor if it's done one person as a time . . . but that may just be my personal experience. It's a habit . . . as I once remember having read about making changes in one's breathing habits - "one does not learn it with gusto, in the great outdoors, but by learning to let it happen."
Quote from Furor »
That is one of the facets of Christian humility.
Yep.
I remember one guy said it's like learning to swim. You have to give up some control.
Incidentally, swimming isn't quite so scary once you get the feel for it. Maybe life is similar.
Quote from Furor »
Incidentally, it is on the subject of Chesterton that I shall be writing my Masters Thesis.
Well. I can understand your ealier comment, then. That ought to be one hell of a thesis.
See, I've always believed that writers can make a big imprint in others' lives. Maybe this is why I have so long wanted to be one?
Quote from Furor »
That's precisely the problem. I just don't think about stuff that doesn't interest me, and I may as well have been doing nothing for all the good some of my previous courses have done me. I took courses in Physics and Political Science and (regrettably) German (regretable because it's my one truly terrible grade in University), but I don't remember anything about any of it, now.
It's a gift, as you say, but it is occasionally difficult and frustrating.
It is. It's something like a . . . well, I don't know how to describe it. I have known many people who have been profoundly intelligent, sensitive, and insightful, and yet have in many ways also been quite oblivious about some things because they are strongly pulled in some direction or another. I consider myself to be likewise oblivious (and strongly pulled, I guess), except maybe now my interests are beginning to broaden somewhat.
Perhaps I should say it this way: someone who sees a great depth into one or some thing also sacrifices some overall breadth.
Quote from Furor »
It's like you were saying to that other guy about how people are the same etc.
Also, throughout High School I felt very badly about the people who got marks just slightly lower than mine but only got them because they were trying really, really hard. I don't anymore, because those bastards are out to get my grant money, but back then it seemed highly unfair.
Yes, anymore I feel less "privileged" because I am reaching that point in my life at which I really have to employ more effort than I ever had to before . . .
I don't typically see myself to be nearly as smart or savvy as others make me out to be. Apparently some people think I'm good at debating, but I know someone else deserved that recognition better than I did. It never occured to me to cede, probably because I liked the idea of public appreciation (positive attention). Selfish, to be sure. Generally, I see myself as naïve, awkward, diffident, and rambling. And yet I get positive attention for it anyway.
Still, I like making friends, even if it's "only" online, so I keep at it.
Quote from Furor »
I am currently in my fourth and final year of an Honours BA. If all goes according to plan, I'll have my MA by the time I'm 23, and my PhD by the time I'm 28. (I am 21 at the moment).
Wow, well congratulations. That is a lot of work, but . . . you have that hope to ease the way, yes? I pray you do well.
As a side note, I think we're roughly the same age.
Quote from Furor »
True, but only if they're cautionary. Mine is not. I've screwed the pooch for the last eight years and what do I have to show for it? Unqualified success, the lauds of my superiors and the adulation of my peers. That's not exactly something you can just emulate.
Ah, well . . . I see your point there. Is it possible that you judge yourself more sternly than is appropriate?
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the light that you see. All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the peace that you feel. All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to fill your heart on my own.
But the rainbow is an image of hope for many reasons, as it is a brilliant sight coming out of oftimes dismal weather.
The first is that white demands sacrifice of the individual to the collective, and the second is that she was smoking right outside the door to get in the dorm building (she used to smoke *inside her room* at the beginning of the term [it's an evictable offence]). How stupid do you have to be...?
Some of you may be interested to know that I once again have a blog that is regularly updated, which discerning minds can find here. Today, for your edification, is a second entry on Richard Dawkins.
Quote from Mamelon »
It is. It's something like a . . . well, I don't know how to describe it. I have known many people who have been profoundly intelligent, sensitive, and insightful, and yet have in many ways also been quite oblivious about some things because they are strongly pulled in some direction or another. I consider myself to be likewise oblivious (and strongly pulled, I guess), except maybe now my interests are beginning to broaden somewhat.
I would think that this is true of everyone; we are governed by our interests, for better or for worse, and we have a marked tendency to cater to them.
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Sing lustily and with good courage.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
Senori, to your "faith in God" point, you could equally conceive anything by virtue of assuming it, and it's thus useless to assume anything other than the claim that the things we perceive can be thought to be reliable because it's the most likely by Occam's Razor. Assuming this "perception" point thus has a reasonable basis, whereas "faith in God" hasn't. Faith is, by definition, blind, for if it had reason behind it, it would be a reasoned belief; the scientific method isn't faith-based.
Senori, to your "faith in God" point, you could equally conceive anything by virtue of assuming it, and it's thus useless to assume anything other than the claim that the things we perceive can be thought to be reliable because it's the most likely by Occam's Razor.
The point is not that belief in God is any more likely than belief in reality, but the fact that reality cannot be exactly proven and therefore relies in a certain degree of faith. If it is useless to go around without a belief in reality then that shows a measure of the necessity of reasonless belief.
Occam's razor is a tool for deciding between two equally likely proposals, and I am absolutely certain you could find many Neoplatonist philosophers with perfectly reasoned arguments that their position is far and away the more likely. Because there is no way to prove this, it is practically impossible to determine.
Assuming this "perception" point thus has a reasonable basis, whereas "faith in God" hasn't. Faith is, by definition, blind, for if it had reason behind it, it would be a reasoned belief; the scientific method isn't faith-based.
I would, firstly, argue that faith is not at all blind; as Aquinas said, "a man would not believe unless he saw the things he had to believe, either by the evidence of miracles or of something similar."
Second, the scientific method as a whole is empirical and not at all reliant on faith, but its basic tenets most certainly are.
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Sing lustily and with good courage.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
The point is not that belief in God is any more likely than belief in reality, but the fact that reality cannot be exactly proven and therefore relies in a certain degree of faith. If it is useless to go around without a belief in reality then that shows a measure of the necessity of reasonless belief.
Occam's razor is a tool for deciding between two equally likely proposals, and I am absolutely certain you could find many Neoplatonist philosophers with perfectly reasoned arguments that their position is far and away the more likely. Because there is no way to prove this, it is practically impossible to determine.
I would, firstly, argue that faith is not at all blind; as Aquinas said, "a man would not believe unless he saw the things he had to believe, either by the evidence of miracles or of something similar."
Second, the scientific method as a whole is empirical and not at all reliant on faith, but its basic tenets most certainly are.
re: your first point - while i don't necessarily disagree, belief in reality generally works out for people fairly well. not believing in the train coming right for you as you stand on the railroad tracks doesn't stop you from being splattered all over the place... you know? (i'm being both literal and metaphorical here, just to be clear.)
re: your second point - faith cannot be blind, but it can be blinding; often, that is when it is at its most dangerous. many people, however, do believe blindly; i think it's because many people are passive enough to believe in fantastic happenings without being a first-hand witness. in addition, you have those hucksters out there that find jesus on a piece of toast, etc., who feed into that passivity.
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Now playing Transformers: Legends. 27-time top tier finisher and admin of the TFL Wikia site.
The point is not that belief in God is any more likely than belief in reality, but the fact that reality cannot be exactly proven and therefore relies in a certain degree of faith. If it is useless to go around without a belief in reality then that shows a measure of the necessity of reasonless belief.
Occam's razor is a tool for deciding between two equally likely proposals, and I am absolutely certain you could find many Neoplatonist philosophers with perfectly reasoned arguments that their position is far and away the more likely. Because there is no way to prove this, it is practically impossible to determine.
I would, firstly, argue that faith is not at all blind; as Aquinas said, "a man would not believe unless he saw the things he had to believe, either by the evidence of miracles or of something similar."
Second, the scientific method as a whole is empirical and not at all reliant on faith, but its basic tenets most certainly are.
Reality can't be proven? In what sense are you using the word?
Faith is belief without reason, which must be blind. "Trust in our senses", being more parsimonious, is preferable to "brain in a jar" and any other such notions; this is reason to believe it. I have no idea how a Neoplatonist could argue that their position is more likely.
Edit: My brain is smashed. I'm revving the engine to the point of overheating, but the wheels just aren't turning. I feel like a retard who knows nothing besides just how retarded he is.
re: your first point - while i don't necessarily disagree, belief in reality generally works out for people fairly well. not believing in the train coming right for you as you stand on the railroad tracks doesn't stop you from being splattered all over the place... you know? (i'm being both literal and metaphorical here, just to be clear.)
I don't disagree that belief in reality is essential to functioning society; I simply deny that it can be proven, and therefore requires a measure of faith.
re: your second point - faith cannot be blind, but it can be blinding; often, that is when it is at its most dangerous. many people, however, do believe blindly; i think it's because many people are passive enough to believe in fantastic happenings without being a first-hand witness. in addition, you have those hucksters out there that find jesus on a piece of toast, etc., who feed into that passivity.
There is a certain argument that belief in God is a miracle in itself, of course.
I have no idea how a Neoplatonist could argue that their position is more likely.
The argument, as I understand it, is that given infinite time, any "possible" outcome becomes an "inevitable" outcome.
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Sing lustily and with good courage.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
Ethan: My friend Joseph, the Orthodox Marxist, has started a blog, which stands in stark contrast to yours, so much so that it is hilarious. His latest post concerns Richard Dawkins and the meaning of life. In his sidebar, he has GodisImaginary.com and Why Won't God Heal Amputees? linked; further, under the heading of "Authors of Fiction" he has listed Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
That is so awesome that I don't know where to begin.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Sing lustily and with good courage.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
Sing lustily and with good courage.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
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To my capitalist mind, that makes even less sense than the minimum wage. Price ceilings cause shortages.
I've recently read Civilization and Its Discontents, The Interpretation of Dreams, and The Future of an Illusion.
Implying that...?
Next to bombing, rent control is the most effective technique so far known for destroying cities.
- Assar Lindbeck
Oh yes, yes indeed.
I'm not gonna lie to you, Stan, it's a strong possibility.
Also, Laton has sigged me, and that makes me smile. No one ever sigs me.
Sure there's room. Welcome aboard.
I wish I could remember what I was actually saying there. Like the context and all.
Yes and no. We start with Walpole because that where this sort of mystic gothic material first came into its own, or so I'm given to understand. There's plenty of stuff from other ages too (Borges and Kafka are both modernists, after a fashion), like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Isabel Allende. If you mean romantic as in "has romance" rather than "from the Romantic age," then yes, there's some of that too, no doubt. I haven't read all of the books on the course list yet, so I couldn't say for sure.
I will say, however, that I can't picture any of them coming up to the high and extravagant standard set by Borges, who knocks things out of the park that should not even be able to be thrown, let alone hit.
Like a nemesis.
Well, there are all sorts of problems with it, but I'm generally quite happy with her work in spite of them. As far as lady writers go, however, I much prefer Christine de Pizan and Flannery O'Connor.
I like to listen to music while I'm doing other things, typically because I have to use my eyes when I'm reading or typing, but not my ears. The concept of putting a piece of such a highly visual medium on only to occupy your ears seems so weird to me, so I just don't do it.
When I watch a movie, I watch it. This is often disruptive to other things that I need/want to do, but it's worth it in the end for the nuances.
Go to Rome. I'm told it's a city of Limitless Possibilities.
It's hard to say. I prefer collections of essays or belles-lettres to most anything else, but I also enjoy the pulp-type (but not always pulp, and certainly not always low-quality or gritty) novels of the mid-twentieth century. Stuff in the vein of C.S. Forester, Talbot Mundy, Dennis Wheatley, etc. Forester in particular is a firm favourite.
I'm plenty satisfied with my life, but all of the genuine happiness that exists within it is hypothetical and takes place in the future. Right now I have to do all the work that leads up to those dividends, as it were, and it's a trying, preposterous ordeal (most of the time).
Anyway, I think you'll find that more people feel this general way than one might think. The ones that really get into it end up killing themselves, which is no good. I advise against that course of action.
Absolutely! Particularly as it's a reflective experience. It is by now perhaps a tired trope that teachers have much to learn from students, but it is absolutely the case. In much the same way, in examining and understanding someone else, we make it that much easier to understand our own bewildering selves.
Maybe. I spend so much time alone, however, that there are few opportunities for people to really form a picture of what it is that I'm actually about. The problem runs both ways, of course, much to my occasional frustration.
This is the price that is paid for working hard, as well as for having a past that is not, perhaps, what one might wish it to have been. I have not always been a cheerful or friendly person, and the idea that other people have something of value in them, and that spending time with them in a social context is a good thing, has only trickled into my head comparatively recently, and does not always dominate at that.
I credit the noble Chesterton for breaking down that wall (or at least beginning to), among countless others. I'm sure Senori would concur.
Well, let's see. First, the job I do have is transcribing Canadian poetry to a database of the stuff, and can be done whenever I like. I don't actually study for tests or exams or anything, so that doesn't take any time, and I only rarely do any course readings unless I think they'd interest me otherwise (for example, moving into the fifth month of my course in Shakespeare, I have yet to read a word of him beyond what I had to memorize the two times I performed in one of his plays, and what we've gone over in class; I may make an exception for Measure for Measure, however, which looks uncommonly good).
I'm good at internalizing things, and getting to the spirit of something rather than (necessarily) the letter. I'm better at extrapolating a thing, that is, than simply explaining it. This comes in handy for seminars and lectures, but only fitfully for tests. The upshot of this, however, is that I can basically be "studying" at any time of the day, no matter what else I happen to be doing. Because I read so many books and watch so many films, I have what I suppose to be an enormous corpus of ideas and understanding (and, vitally, references) through which to shove any classwork, and which thereby make me seem like a freaking genius when it comes time to tell them what I know. This is a hideous fraud, however, because I'm actually just a lazy jerk who does the bare minimum of work and spends the rest of his time kicking back.
I get grades of such sufficient (often obscene) height that I am not moved, and never have been, to work harder than I do. This gives me more time to do the things I like, which are, tangentially, essential to my current success.
Don't learn from me, I beg you. I am a Bad Example. I hope this answer hasn't been alarming.
From out that wine-dark fog,
And spake he unto all our crew:
"Go forth, and read my blog."
Sephiroth Owa: Welcome
EDIT:
For all the freelance academics out there---and even for you real students---I'd like to mention and endorse Wikiversity, a sister project of Wikipedia and run by the parent company Wikimedia. It's a sort of collaborative, free-content online university for the autodidacts whom Senori so scorns (;)). It's still in its beginnings, and needs help. If that sort of thing interests you, head over.
I hope this doesn't count as advertising.
With assignments like those, it becomes very easy to lose track and become overwhelmed.
I know you do, sweetness, and I appreciate it. I wasn't really complaining, per se. You know I still dig that whole Coffeehouse crowd.
Superpowers.
I think his misogyny extends beyond his vocabulary . . .
That's fine. I share my real name with people as kind of an act of confidence . . . I don't think I've ever revealed it using these boards or PMs as a medium.
I'm probably never going to post in the First Name thread, or whatever it is called.
Actually, now that I think of it, not such a surprise. You did say you like all things involving edification and enculturation. The surprise probably arises from the realization that this clan has only recently resurfaced.
Well great.
I understand the desire to read about them. Learning is fun!
Physics is sligthly over my head, I think. I'm better at all that soft stuff, like literature and psychology and so on.
A lot of my edification is self-edification. So I'm a bit of a bumpkin when it comes to academics.
Like . . telepathy?
I guess if there were any ideal icon for capitalism, it'd be the stalwart and independent entrepreneur.
My opinion is that more often than not, people have more similarities in terms of ideas, feelings, and experiences than they realize. But I guess that's not so much a theory as intuition.
I did mean romantic with a little "r," as in having romantic qualities.
Borges, eh? Never heard the name, I'll have to look it up now. I love all kinds of fantasy/fantasy-like literature.
I haven't read a good work of fictional prose in a long time, though. It's kind of sad. It used to be that I was never without two or three books to carry around. Now it's mostly visual stuff like graphic novels and art books. I wonder where that shift came about.
In any case, I hope you enjoy it. You're an English major? Are you aiming for any specific vocation, or would I be right to assume that English is just your strongest academic interest?
:xd:
Ooooh. What kinds of writers are they?
Oh . . . I don't know. I have this thing with listeing to peoples' voices, including listening to speech.
It's good to know I'm not the only person who feels that movies are more than just empty entertainment.
As much as I like the idea of that particular kind of possibility, I don't know if I need a change that great.
Right now I'd settle for a new job.
The first I'd anticipated, the second, perhaps not. It's good to be surprised about people, though, I think.
I wish I'd read half of those authors. You have quite a library under your belt.
Hmmm. Sounds about right. It's interesting seeing someone else say all this, as I usually am called negative for voicing it.
For most of my life, I have felt that hope and anticipation have been the only constant "goods." However, I've been going through some changes recently, one of which entails an apparent tendency to find surprising joy in small, insignificant details in life.
It doesn't mean I still don't dread each new morning just a little bit.
Funny you should mention that. I decided against all that about a year or so ago . . . sometimes I question that choice, as I imagine many do, but so far it's turned out alright.
The idea that we can't absolutely know someone can seem disheartening . . . but after a certain fashion, I'd almost say it's a good thing. There's always more to people to keep finding. There's never a want for more uncharted territory (not to say that a person is something so simple as a landscape). People are never really boring.
And, as you say, we usually don't even really know ourselves. I can attest to that. A while back I decided, a person is not a mere object, but a real, multi-dimensional, and infinitely rich microcosmic world.
Yeah, I kinda like people.
Well, you know, I can relate to that problem. Ambivalence between wanting solitude and not wanting loneliness, at least in my case.
I am often sharply aware that few people understand me, and yet it's my own doing because I don't let people come to be in a position in which they could understand me. One time, I saw that it was a desire for all the things one can gain from letting oneself be vulnerable, and yet not wishing to actually risk it.
I suppose that after all is said and done, there is a certain beauty in simply letting life have its way with you.
I doubt you're alone in that. Who's Chesterton, by the way?
*resentment*
This is a gift, though. I have an easier time retaining concepts and relationships rather than raw facts like names and dates. I always have an easier time understanding something if it interests me, in which case one exposure usually lasts. I understand your meaning.
I like the way you put this, and I find it identifiable. I remember feeling like an imposter during most of my school years. Probably because I, too, am chronically lazy despite apparent aptitude. We're more similar than I had thought.
Incidentally, how long have you been attending university?
Well . . . bad examples can sometimes be among the most educational.
It's neat to know other people were like that, too. I think I might be in trouble in college because I never developed any really good studying habits.
Maybe this is partially why some people feel . . . affronted by some facets of adult life. Namely, that sincere effort often pulls more weight than talent. I had a hard time learning that as I started my whole writing business.
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the peace that you feel.
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to fill your heart on my own.
Gaymers | Magic Coffeehouse | Little Jar of Mamelon | Natural 20
Somebody was talking about a specific person pulling arguments out of a hat.
White is the most evil colour. And the person who lives next door deserves all of the swear words I throw at her (not at her face, though I wish I had the courage to do so).
You'll regret asking that question, methinks.
Einsteinmonkey: Why is that?
I'm so very glad that I've taken the time to establish rapport with the librarians at the universities my friends attend. Some of them know me well enough from visiting those friends that they've granted me access to the university libraries, which is normally restricted to student use.
Oh, well. Then, "yes," but not primarily.
Yes, you do have to look it up. His short stories and essays are the best of his work, and are conveniently collected in a nice, cheap volume called Labyrinths. One of his specialties is writing beautiful, thought-provoking, delicate essays on books and people that don't exist.
If that sounds like your sort of thing, by all means, go for it.
It's hard to say. One day I just "turned on" to comic books and graphic novels again after a gap of like fifteen years. Now there are few things I like better.
If necessary, I would be happy to provide a concise list of recommended prose.
I intend to be an English professor, though with an eye more to teaching than to strictly research. I only began taking English courses because I found them easy, but I soon discovered that I found them easy because I loved them, and, so, here we are. I'm eminently qualified for the job, in any event, so I don't foresee any problems making it work. It's just going to be a long road to get there, is all. Ideally I would specialize in the moderns, like Chesterton, Shaw, Wells, Belloc, Beerbohm, Wilde, etc., but I also have a deep and abiding love for the English nobs of the 18th century. I've written many a happy paper on the likes of Samuel Johnson and Oliver Goldsmith, but I just don't know if I'd be as good at teaching them as I would the others.
Christine de Pizan was the first professional woman writer (if you don't count Sappho, which I don't, because she's too mysterious and weird), producing stories, poetry, and scholarly treatises in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Her best-known work is The City of Ladies, in which she goes to bat against misogyny by demonstrating the many superior qualities of her sex. She writes beautifully and thoughtfully, and to read her is to wonder just what tragedy occurred to make a tradition that began with her end up with the likes of Germaine Greer.
Flannery O'Connor, by contrast, was an eccentric and serious-minded woman who produced a good number of short stories, two novels, and a great deal of correspondence, lectures and speeches during her short life (39 years). Her field was the American South, where she herself lived all her life, and her subject was what we could call "Dark Grace," in which hideous instances of the grotesque work their magic upon awful people, hopefully for the better. There are no nice characters in her stories, and those that are the "nicest" are also the most likely to meet terrible ends. The style could be called "Southern Gothic," and they're simply wonderful. Check out the collection, Everything That Rises Must Converge for a good sampling of what she's about. "The Enduring Chill," one of the stories therein, nearly broke me.
Oh, well, of course. I guess I just feel like I'm missing something if I'm not watching a movie as well as listening to it. I've never been able to get into lectures or books on tape, either, which is kind of odd. And it's a shame, because that would be very convenient.
It's hard to pin down what I like into tidy categories, unfortunately. The second one was just something I came up with after really thinking about it, and is not even entirely accurate. Oh well.
Too many, honestly. My room is so full of books that I'm running out of space for other things.
The time spent lying in bed after the alarm goes off is some of the most satisfying of the day. I purposefully wake up two hours earlier than I need to, every single day, just to do this. It's worth it.
I don't know if I'd say I dread the mornings, but I'm never happy to discover that I'm tired enough to go to sleep.
What sort of things have you found joy in recently?
It's always better the alternative. Life has too much to offer for it to deserve such scorn as a suicide heaps upon it.
That's a good approach. How does this play into the matter when people are pissing you off, however? It can't feel good to have an entire world making you angry (apart, that is, from the actual world).
Let's be frank, here. It's not just a question of ambivalence, but rather of perpetual, devastating ignorance. I have no frakking clue what it is that I want. I mean, I know that I "want" certain feelings and theories, but I have no idea what sort of physicalities are necessary to bring them into reality.
This, above all, is the most distressing thing in my life. I can't form any plans. I can't make any goals. It's like charging into fog, knowing only that beyond the fog there's something better, but not where "beyond" actually is, if it's even anywhere.
That sounds about right. It's actually disgraceful, honestly.
That is one of the facets of Christian humility.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936) was one of the most gifted and beloved writers of his times, and yet is now almost entirely neglected by everyone. He wrote about a hundred books, contributed to a hundred more, produced several hundred poems and over four thousand essays, all of them dealing with every topic you could possibly imagine, with wit, elegance, clarity and passion. He wrote what T.S. Eliot and noted biblophile Peter Ackroyd have called the finest biography of Dickens ever produced. His biography of Thomas Aquinas won similar praise from Etienne Gilson, the foremost Thomistic scholar of his time. His treatment of Robert Browning revolutionized both Browning studies and the field of literary biography. The list goes on and on. Michael Collins carried a copy of Chesterton's The Napoleon of Notting Hill around with him in his pocket during his strivings for Irish freedom. Gandhi cites one of Chesterton's essays as inspiration for his decision to resist the English. C.S. Lewis claimed that Chesterton's history of the world, The Everlasting Man, was one of the most profound influences on his road to becoming the Christian he was.
He debated Bertrand Russell and Clarence Darrow (and won). He interviewed Mussolini. He argued with Thomas Hardy about pessimism in a publisher's waiting room. He once lived next door to Henry James. He had an audience with Pope Pius XI, who later conferred upon him the title of "Fidei Defensor," usually reserved for monarchs. He was best friends with H.G. Wells and George Bernard Shaw (whom he first met, it is said, in Rodin's studio), disagreeing with them violently on essentially every issue about which they could reasonably debate, and yet being the first in their affections regardless. He produced travelogues of his voyages to the Holy Land, and to Poland, and to Ireland, and to America, and to Italy. His Father Brown stories are some of the most beloved in all of detective fiction. He wore a cape and a big floppy hat and carried a swordstick around with him in 1920's England.
And so on and so on. And, because he was neither a socialist nor an atheist, he is basically ignored; passed over by his friends Shaw and Wells. He wrote more and better than either of them, but one wouldn't know it to see a typical University curriculum. I could have graduated from this school under the impression that the man never existed were it not for some strokes of luck and a lot of snooping around.
That, in brief, is who Chesterton is, was, and forever more shall be. If you ever have several years to kill, a substantial number of his works are available online here. I recommend this short, spritely essay as an introduction to his style.
Incidentally, it is on the subject of Chesterton that I shall be writing my Masters Thesis.
That's precisely the problem. I just don't think about stuff that doesn't interest me, and I may as well have been doing nothing for all the good some of my previous courses have done me. I took courses in Physics and Political Science and (regrettably) German (regretable because it's my one truly terrible grade in University), but I don't remember anything about any of it, now.
It's a gift, as you say, but it is occasionally difficult and frustrating.
It's like you were saying to that other guy about how people are the same etc.
Also, throughout High School I felt very badly about the people who got marks just slightly lower than mine but only got them because they were trying really, really hard. I don't anymore, because those bastards are out to get my grant money, but back then it seemed highly unfair.
I am currently in my fourth and final year of an Honours BA. If all goes according to plan, I'll have my MA by the time I'm 23, and my PhD by the time I'm 28. (I am 21 at the moment).
True, but only if they're cautionary. Mine is not. I've screwed the pooch for the last eight years and what do I have to show for it? Unqualified success, the lauds of my superiors and the adulation of my peers. That's not exactly something you can just emulate.
Oh, right. Grobyc, maybe? Or mikeyG, perhaps.
Did you regret asking that question? I doubt it.
EDIT: oh god it's happening again so looooong :0
From out that wine-dark fog,
And spake he unto all our crew:
"Go forth, and read my blog."
Oh. I wonder why they decided to call it "Magic Realism"?
For a second I almost believed that you were being taught actual magic. As in, spells (not sleight of hand).
*gasp* That sounds exactly like my sort of thing. Beautiful? Thought-provoking? Delicate? Don't exist? All of my favorite descriptors for a thing or person!
I think one reason I have an affinity for graphic novels is because I get this sensory satisfaction from looking at hand-drawn art . . . especially of human beings, faces and hands and so on. Have you ever found something that was just unusually fulfilling and relaxing in an almost sensual way? I just respond that way to images. And anything written or drawn by hand . . . for instance, I consider a note written by hand (as opposed to typed) to be quite intimate and personal . . . In addition, I typically think in images or colors rather than sentences, so maybe it's more "my language," despite my general love of writing.
Well you pose some material already . . . I've been trying to get myself back into fictional prose, because that is what I like to write, but I like non-fantastic ("mundane") work as well . . .
Well, see, I think it's a pretty admirable goal. My mother used to always tell me I should be a professor, and I always assumed she was teasing. However, it sounds like it'd a killer job.
I don't know much about you in depth, but I know a few things about both English and about instruction, and you seem to be just the sort of fellow who'd thrive at that. Not that you didn't already realize this.
If you had to make a distinction, would you say that you are predominantly a "thinker" (your chief style of processing ideas is rationalistic) or "feeler" (style is oriented toward values and interpersonal experience)? I couldn't tell.
I imagine making use of both such faculties would be good for teaching.
I especially like the sound of Flannery O'Connor . . . I have a roommate who might love that.
I guess categorization is sort of overrated, anyway.
I object to mornings a lot less than I once did . . . usually it the first few hours of work during which I am most uncomfortable with being alive. My favorite time of day, conversely, is when I am lying in bed and waiting for sleep to take me. Sometimes it takes a while, but I know it will come and in the meantime, I am perfectly safe. To me, that's peace.
The runner-up would probably be the moment I get home from work.
Tea. All kinds of tea.
I sit amongst about a dozen people nearby me at work . . . we often sit and chat during the idle times of day. I will usually listen to the ladies around me talking about their lives, including their children, their financial problems, their grievances and their pleasures, and I feel strangely as if it's all worth it. It's maybe a little inappropriate, because many times they don't talk about positive things, and smiling at that seems uncondign . . . but I like knowing things about other people. Not dirt or secrets, really, but simple, ordinary things.
I've also come to appreciate sunlight. Being of fair complexion I used to avoid it, but now I find it very welcome. Plus, when it's out the sky becomes my favorite shade of blue.
I'm beginning to appreciate more things I typically take for granted, such as the family members I see every day. Cooking (and act which I love). Various scents, of which I have wide access thanks to this little website that sells scented oils. And the sensations of blankets, sheets, and new clothes.
And - this may strike you as perverse - the pain of everyday life. Sometimes one witnesses oneself as if from outside, and you see all the links you have between all those others that pass by quite vividly . . . at least at first, we see others as objects, as things that float around before our senses but that don't touch us. On occasion, one connects subject and object. You might see a poor soul whom you pity or someone grand whom you admire . . . it always feels, to me, like it eventually goes deeper than that. Without making qualifying judgments, there's just something simple and entrancing about these imperfect, small, ugly, and beautiful people. Maybe they're closer than it looks? Maybe not? Sometimes I see myself as I see them, or I see them as I see myself, and everything makes sense for a while.
I'm not sure what I'm really saying anymore. I think I get a little incoherent as the night deepens . . . hopefully you get the idea.
What about you?
Oh, I agree. To me, I often feel like like if I were to admit that suicide were appropriate for me, in an oblique way I'd be approving of others ending their lives because they'll never be just right. That's slightly . . . political, I guess, but that's how it feels. I dislike that. I think everyone both deserves and needs to make use of the lives they have, and appreciate themselves for real (as oposed to appreciating simple self-image). Including me.
I often feel that when I am angry, it's like I'm wearing a shade over my eyes, and when I start to see the person again, my anger weakens. It's hard to explain. It's gotten harder and harder to hold any kind of grudge as time goes on. I'm not complaining, to be sure.
When others are angry at me . . . I find it difficult not to take that extremely seriously. Maybe it frightens me in a way. Maybe I don't want to be seen through a shade?
You know, that's a really good way of putting it. I can relate to this so well I almost want to laugh. It seems like discovering this should be a simple matter. Apparently, it isn't, because I'm still sitting here, too.
What has been easier for me has been to decide what I need. In other words, what's good for me. What's pressing. External stress forces action, I suppose.
There's still that big, overhanging ambiguity . . . I often feel like I'm just taking the paths of least resistance.
That must be what I thought about it, as well. It's probably less difficult of an endeavor if it's done one person as a time . . . but that may just be my personal experience. It's a habit . . . as I once remember having read about making changes in one's breathing habits - "one does not learn it with gusto, in the great outdoors, but by learning to let it happen."
Yep.
I remember one guy said it's like learning to swim. You have to give up some control.
Incidentally, swimming isn't quite so scary once you get the feel for it. Maybe life is similar.
Well. I can understand your ealier comment, then. That ought to be one hell of a thesis.
See, I've always believed that writers can make a big imprint in others' lives. Maybe this is why I have so long wanted to be one?
It is. It's something like a . . . well, I don't know how to describe it. I have known many people who have been profoundly intelligent, sensitive, and insightful, and yet have in many ways also been quite oblivious about some things because they are strongly pulled in some direction or another. I consider myself to be likewise oblivious (and strongly pulled, I guess), except maybe now my interests are beginning to broaden somewhat.
Perhaps I should say it this way: someone who sees a great depth into one or some thing also sacrifices some overall breadth.
Yes, anymore I feel less "privileged" because I am reaching that point in my life at which I really have to employ more effort than I ever had to before . . .
I don't typically see myself to be nearly as smart or savvy as others make me out to be. Apparently some people think I'm good at debating, but I know someone else deserved that recognition better than I did. It never occured to me to cede, probably because I liked the idea of public appreciation (positive attention). Selfish, to be sure. Generally, I see myself as naïve, awkward, diffident, and rambling. And yet I get positive attention for it anyway.
Still, I like making friends, even if it's "only" online, so I keep at it.
Wow, well congratulations. That is a lot of work, but . . . you have that hope to ease the way, yes? I pray you do well.
As a side note, I think we're roughly the same age.
Ah, well . . . I see your point there. Is it possible that you judge yourself more sternly than is appropriate?
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to be the peace that you feel.
All that I yearn for, for richer or poorer, is to fill your heart on my own.
Gaymers | Magic Coffeehouse | Little Jar of Mamelon | Natural 20
Why which? The first point or the second?
The first is that white demands sacrifice of the individual to the collective, and the second is that she was smoking right outside the door to get in the dorm building (she used to smoke *inside her room* at the beginning of the term [it's an evictable offence]). How stupid do you have to be...?
I would think that this is true of everyone; we are governed by our interests, for better or for worse, and we have a marked tendency to cater to them.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
The point is not that belief in God is any more likely than belief in reality, but the fact that reality cannot be exactly proven and therefore relies in a certain degree of faith. If it is useless to go around without a belief in reality then that shows a measure of the necessity of reasonless belief.
Occam's razor is a tool for deciding between two equally likely proposals, and I am absolutely certain you could find many Neoplatonist philosophers with perfectly reasoned arguments that their position is far and away the more likely. Because there is no way to prove this, it is practically impossible to determine.
I would, firstly, argue that faith is not at all blind; as Aquinas said, "a man would not believe unless he saw the things he had to believe, either by the evidence of miracles or of something similar."
Second, the scientific method as a whole is empirical and not at all reliant on faith, but its basic tenets most certainly are.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
re: your first point - while i don't necessarily disagree, belief in reality generally works out for people fairly well. not believing in the train coming right for you as you stand on the railroad tracks doesn't stop you from being splattered all over the place... you know? (i'm being both literal and metaphorical here, just to be clear.)
re: your second point - faith cannot be blind, but it can be blinding; often, that is when it is at its most dangerous. many people, however, do believe blindly; i think it's because many people are passive enough to believe in fantastic happenings without being a first-hand witness. in addition, you have those hucksters out there that find jesus on a piece of toast, etc., who feed into that passivity.
The MirroCube - 420 card Mirrodin themed cube
And if I've offended you, I'm sorry, but maybe you need to be offended. But here's my apology and one more thing...
Reality can't be proven? In what sense are you using the word?
Faith is belief without reason, which must be blind. "Trust in our senses", being more parsimonious, is preferable to "brain in a jar" and any other such notions; this is reason to believe it. I have no idea how a Neoplatonist could argue that their position is more likely.
Edit: My brain is smashed. I'm revving the engine to the point of overheating, but the wheels just aren't turning. I feel like a retard who knows nothing besides just how retarded he is.
I don't disagree that belief in reality is essential to functioning society; I simply deny that it can be proven, and therefore requires a measure of faith.
There is a certain argument that belief in God is a miracle in itself, of course.
The argument, as I understand it, is that given infinite time, any "possible" outcome becomes an "inevitable" outcome.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
I think you'll find it amusing, if nothing else.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.
It's always good to have foils.
Be aware of singing as if you were half dead,
or half asleep:
but lift your voice with strength.
Be no more afraid of your voice now,
nor more ashamed of its being heard,
than when you sang the songs of Satan.