war and peace

this is my life. on a saturday. regarding the French Revolution. apparently.

wanting to know, isolate and study the part of me at War and Peace

life

is Salinger aware that he is dead?

On the day that Salinger died

I wore slippers to work

and snapped at a girl

for her incessant

audible sigh of

annoyance.

I do not think she even hears herself. But I do. Every time.

I told her that if she made one more negative remark

she would be welcome to leave class and take a seat outside

by the fountain.

That is what happened on the day Salinger died.

*Also, I felt the thrill of being loved and could barely wake up from a necessary nap.

are sea kittens aware that they will die?

Tonight in class I thought about/learned:

1. PETA once pushed for calling fish "sea kittens."

What makes us different from animals?

2. It has something to do with the realm of ethics and ethical responsibility.

3. Also, our cognitive ability to project ideas of our virtual selves into the distant future. Essentially, our ability to hope as well as our ability to contemplate our own death.

Perhaps i am not so morbid afterall- just very, very human. In a prior winter break journal rambling, I wrote "What is it like to be dead and how do people continue to live so comfortably in their unknowing?"

I remember a porch conversation in Steubenville that centered on the saying, "Remember your death, brother, remember your death." I think some group of religious took that as their mantra. The idea that it is important to grapple with and ultimately accept our own mortality always resonated with me. I am grappling.

If I remember correctly, the memory of fish (or maybe just goldfish) maxes out at something like 30 seconds. It's in the chorus of some Ani D song, too... the idea that for goldfish, the little plastic castle is a surprise every time.

Am I to regard this (as far as we know) uniquely human ability as a curse or a blessing? What am I supposed to do with it? Notions of an afterlife seem so cloudly- so beyond any ability to fathom at all... Is the idea of an afterlife where our ability to project ourselves into a future and our ability to hope intersect? If our cognitive abilities do exceed that of the rest of creation, how do we know how to correctly use them? What is reasonable to hope for? Do reason and hope ever share the same fishbowl?

gazelle gait

and i can smile... i can smile and gazzelle gait through the hours and boxes of the day... but.... but...

thursdays make me nervous about how fragile i feel
and today is only wednesday
there is nothing new to say
better in essence
than in
articulation.
and by better i mean clearer
not really much better at all

A rearview look at thoughts regarding fear/gradual resignation to PhD school rejection.

There is not time enough
And it has been too long already
I should have begun this long ago
And who can be blamed?
No one cares what books you've read
or about the thoughts you think
late at night
What you see when you look at a view is not nearly the weight of a
paper.
The time it takes is more than you can afford.

i am a small cog

Today I feel small. Sat in the library reading about how perceptions of nature have changed. How humans have resisted or embraced the fact that we are made up of stuff just like antelopes and turds. School reading. Thinking about the progression of thought makes me acutely aware that I am in the middle of another progression which will one day blur until it is something else or something similar with a new name. I feel like a cog in some wheel that always was and will keep spinning forever. But I won't. Someday I will stop. And I wish I knew that the wheel were spinning toward something. Or something.

nintendo or church songs

As a kid, I remember sitting in the back of the bus and overhearing a little friendly elementary school discussion on whether it would be better to go to heaven or hell. It was a general consensus that hell was much more preferable. In hell you'd get to play Nintendo all day and have fun, whereas in heaven you had to sing church songs all day. No one disputed these claims.

The subject of death and what happens thereafter is one of my larger sand traps in this whole existential crisis debacle. I don't know if it'd be more comforting, but I think it'd be a lot more simple (and honest?) if everyone just shrugged their shoulders and gave it a good ol' "I don't know" when asked what happens after death. At least there'd be some sort of recognized starting place. Commiseration or something.

Rather, though, there are a million different versions of heaven and hell... choose your own adventure. If you're Mormon you can claim your own planet. Hitler earns a special amount of teeth grinding. Dogs can go to heaven, too, if you're the parent of a child with questions. At funerals, it is generally accepted that the recently deceased is in a better place (bow head solemnly, nod, feel comfort). Skeptics say we're all just energy and brain sparks. Walt Whitman told us to look for him under our boot soles... every sprout an indication that the past generations live on.

I don't claim to have a clue what goes on after death. If there is some sort of judgement, though, I'd like to believe that whoever is holding the gavel would know me well enough to know that I'd like to know, truly, what the rules are and why it's not so easy to find them... I hope it'd count that I'm trying.

And if there isn't an afterlife, I suppose I'd better make sure that I get my fill of playing Nintendo and song singing while my brain is still sparking.

i hear you, sister, i hear you

the dirt

Some day I hope to own a plot of dirt.

-Fact: Most people that live to be over 100 report horticulture as a hobby.

-I remain convinced that at some point it will become necessary for people to know how to grow their own gardens for food and to ride horses for transportation. However, I didn't come across any horses on my walk today. I do not think that 3 legged dog was fit to ride. Or photograph.

today was a good day

Engaging minds, one rad teacher move at a time.

to give the blur a border

..."Is it really so difficult simply to accept everything that one has been brought up on and that has gradually struck deep roots- what is considered truth in the circle of one's relatives and of many good men, and what, moreover, really comforts and elevates man? Is that more difficult than to strike new paths, fighting the habitual, experiencing the insecurity of independence and the frequent wavering of one's feelings and even one's conscience, proceeding often without any consolation, but ever with the eternal goal of the true, the beautiful, and the good? Is it decisive after all that we arrive at THAT view of God, world, and reconciliation which makes us feel most comfortable? Rather, is not the result of his inquiries something wholly indifferent to the true inquirer? Do we after all seek rest, peace, and pleasure in our inquiries? No, only truth- even if it be the most abhorrent and ugly....
Here the ways of men part: if you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe; if you wish to be a devotee of truth, then inquire..."
-Nietzsche, Letter to his Sister

a quick look in the rearview:

2008- a long string of subconscious hiccups hastened to announce themselves all at once. my center fell out. in an instant? in a week? an eternity. whatever the source, it was. it was intensely.

2009- first: white knuckles through the aftermath. blur. then: the wreckage steadied but remained. it had not been a nightmare.

2010- picking up and inspecting every little piece. fragile.

The first few weeks of this year have been marked by an overwhelming feeling of unrest and constraint. I am struggling. Lack of stamina. Need more solitude and leisure than responsibilities allow. Need.

The need to take responsibility for my happiness has been a prominent theme lately. I make a conscious effort not to do things I do not want to do.

Potential reaction 1: how trite

Potential reaction 2: shock! gasp! how utterly selfish of you.

Rebuttal 1: on the contrary. pay attention to how often you find yourself doing things you do not want to do throughout the day. entertaining small talk when you'd rather be silent. calling people not because you want to, but because you feel the pressure or responsibility to... on and on. assessing situations based on whether or not i want to be in them has challenged me to consider my motives. am i kind because i recognize it as good, or because i feel socially compelled to "act" kind? do i call my mom because i genuinely want to have a conversation with her, or because i feel guilty for not calling more often? i've found that honoring socially imposed social responsibilities before honoring my own wants and needs leads me to feel unjustifiably resentful toward others. nobody wins, and resentment requires more emotional energy than my fragility can afford.

Rebuttal 2: focusing on my own needs first is selfish. and necessary. and good. putting my own needs first doesn't negate acts of compassion, consideration, or generosity. it means that those acts will be authentic. honoring the needs of others at the expense of your own isn't charity, and it isn't generosity. it is suicide. yes, I have been reading Rand. *shock, gasp*

AND SO...

Despite the fact that I have work to be doing... or that I could be getting ahead for my graduate class... I am starting this as a means of answering to a want and a need to grapple with the "why." I am starting this today, Thursday (Thursdays have been tough), because I cried a little bit on my way home from work and couldn't name why. I am starting this today to give the blur a border. I am starting this today because I want to.

Not sure where this is headed.

I'll let you know when I get there.