30 October 2006

Halloween

Okay, you all get one guess to figure out who I dressed up as for the Halloween party on Saturday night.


Think... feminist philosopher (ok, I know).


Think... French.


Got it?


Yes that's right folks.


I poofed up my hair, put on a tweed skirt, and managed some creative lettering with duct-tape so that no one could be confused.


I present to you: Simone de Beauvoir! (with a tan)





You can see the skirt better in this one:





I guess Simone likes cowboys. And yes, that's a criminal priest to my right (there were a lot of people at the party vying for the "Most Tasteless Costume" prize). The fellow next to the cowboy was dressed as a bad paper.

Now that's a good time.

28 October 2006

Sunrise


Despite an indulgent (pumpkin ale) Friday evening, I woke up before the sun was up this morning. And I was completely lucid, too. Surprisingly enough.

So, I made a pot of coffee at 6:45am and stood by the window and watched the sun rise. Despite being a chronic insomniac, I haven't seen the sun rise in a long time.

I live on the seventh floor of a building that faces East, towards Lake Michigan. Even though I can't see the water from here, this morning I could see the dense, full, lake clouds. Their edges blazed as the sun came up. At this moment, I realized how absolutely stunning the world is.

Stunning and devastating.


Yesterday, I read that the National Assembly in Nicaragua voted 52-0 to remove therapeutic abortion from the penal code. This amounts to a total ban on abortion. This morning, standing by my window, I realized the horror of that. Funny how something beautiful can remind you so sharply of the sheer brutality in the universe.

When I first started working at Amnesty, I used to have awful nightmares every night about the things I'd heard and read. Then I got tougher. I've read and heard about many terrible things since then, and I rarely have nightmares anymore. I realized that if I'm going to be able to do something about it I'm also going to have to bear witness. So I put on my big-girl mask, wrapped some barbed wire around my heart, and went out into the world pretending that I could handle it. Most days, this works, and I make it through the day just fine.

Some days, though, a marvelous sunrise is all it takes for that mask to come off and the wire to unravel.



26 October 2006

Words

So, despite being a humanities student, this evening I decided to do some math. This past week, I've read 4 books, 9 essays and various miscellania, totalling a grand total of approximately 683 pages.

683. Think about it for a minute.

That's a lot of pages, and a lot more words. My entire head is filled with words. Not fun words either. These are words like "vicissitudes," "pictographic," and "totemism."

Normally, I love to read and I don't mind reading academic writing and philosophy, but even I am reaching capacity. I walk around bleary-eyed, with an IV of overpriced-yet-always-crappy campus coffee, carrying heavy books with titles like "Being and Time" and "Identity and Violence." I read on the bus. I read while I'm in line at the grocery. I read at the gym. I'd read while I was sleeping if I could just figure out how to work that out.

So you know what I mean, here's an example. This passage part of an essay I read this week for my Philosophy (with a capital P, meaning, "serious intellectual stuff happens here") Class:

"If a man holds some course of action to be the best one, everything considered, or the right one, or the thing he ought to do, and yet does something else, he acts incontinently. But I would also say he acts incontinently provided he holds some available course of action to be better on the whole than the one he takes; or that, as between some other course of action which he believes open to him and the action he performs, he judges that he ought to perform the other. In other words, comparative judgements suffice for incontinence. We may now characterize an action that reveals weakness of the will or incontinence:

D. In doing x an agent acts incontinently if and only if: (a) the agent does x intentionally; (b) the agent believes there is an alternative action y open to him; and (c) the agent judges that, all things considered, it would be better to do y than to do x.

There seem to be incontinent actions in this sense. The difficulty is that their existence challenges another doctrine that has an air of self-evidence: that, in so far as a person acts intentionally he acts, as Aquinas puts it, in the light of some imagined good. This view does not, as it stands, directly contradict the claim that there are incontinent actions. But it is hard to deny that the considerations that recommend this view recommend also a relativized version: in so far as a person acts intentionally he acts in the light of what he imagines (judges) to be the better."

That passage is from an essay by Donald Davidson called, "Is Weakness of the Will Possible?" Um, yeah, I'd say so. I do things all the time that are clearly, in my mind, opposed to my own best interest. Like today, I was eating Thai food for lunch and I came across something that looked like a very spicy pepper. I saw it and thought, "that's probably pretty damn spicy." And you can probably guess what happened next. Yeah, I ate it. My head turned bright red and practically exploded. But whatever, maybe the rest of you are always rational and continent beings.

Now imagine 683 pages very muck akin to the above quoted nonsense.

(Okay, not all of it is that bad. Some of it is actually quite interesting, but I'm going for dramatic effect here.)

See what I mean? My head is full of words and they are starting to lose their meaning. Which is a bad thing since the reason we use words is to convey some sense of meaning. I have no idea what will happen to me in a few weeks when I'll have to stop reading, and write something.

22 October 2006

Me and Celine: A Digression


I don't know how many of you already know this about me, it's a well guarded secret: I love Celine Dion.

No, I'm not kidding.


I know, it erodes any faint trace of street-cred I might ever hope to have, but here's the thing: sometimes those ooey, gooey love ballads are just the thing a girl needs. No, again, I'm not kidding.

In an homage to Pop/Dev's 10 reasons tradition, and having just spent a philosophy laden weekend with a Celine soundtrack playing softly in the background, I present to you:

The Top 10 Reasons You Should Run Out and Get a Celine CD:

1. It's not tormented and borderline psychotic "chick-with-a guitar" melodrama. Now, don't get me wrong, Tori and Ani have a special place in my heart, but sometimes a little, "Because you loved me" goes a long way to maintaining slivers of sanity. Love, in Celine's universe, is simple and uncluttered with threats to jump into the nearest ditch.

2. She never uses the terms "bitches" or "hoes."

3. The woman can sing. There's never a bum note. And when I put the on CD loud enough to drown out the sound of my own voice, good lord, I can sing too.


4. The Celine Show. This is related, but slightly different, to Reason #3. She puts on a good show, and whether or not you appreciate her musical stylings you've got to admit that the woman puts it all out there. She really sings her songs with Heart (note the capital H). And there's nothing better than a song sung with Heart.


5. My Heart Will Go On. Even though none of you will admit it, but the song brought tears (or at least a slight misting) to your eyes. Come on, I know it's true.

Celine + doomed romance on the high seas = A Beautiful Thing

6. The one woman (+ a million minions) stage show at Caesar's Palace. Caesar's, people. Where costume changes are measured to the second and awkward dance moves abound. All for a few hundred GW's. Basically, capitalism at its finest. This is the proof of the pudding.

7. This. OMG. CD on Larry King re: Katrina. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but you have to love it.

8. Her quirky
Québécois accent. It's particularly fab when it comes through in her songs (the live versions are better for detecting it) and she boldly sings, "becausczhe yooo loourved me."


9. Poignant lyrics.

Exhibit A:
"...You make me sad

You make me strong
You make me mad

You make me long for you / You make me long for you

You make me live
You make me die
You make me laugh
You make me cry/ You make me cry

You make me live
I hate you
Then I love you
Then I love you
Then I hate you
Then I love you more..."


Who are we kidding? This is the real deal. Poetry as ballad.

And finally...

10. Yes, it's sappy and something you could NEVER mention in sophisticated company, but those sentiments pull on the heartstrings. Just listen to them. Sometimes that sort of unabashed sentimentality conveys exactly how you feel.

I know, overwhelming evidence. What did I tell you?

I think grad school is making me soft. Next week, I'll post something about puppies and babies.

19 October 2006

After a long day of Heidegger...


... what a girl needs to do is, throw a dinner party, don't you think?

That's what I thought. So I rounded up a couple of buddies this evening and made pancakes for for us all. Not just any pancakes, mind you. These had chocolate chips in them. In addition to the chips, they were smothered with a strawberry compote that yours truly made. Yes, that's right, I just said strawberry compote. (My MHC readers will be thinking fondly of Sunday brunch in the Rockies, I imagine.)

Oh-the-goodness. Fluffy, chocolatey, strawberry smothered goodness.

We washed it all down with some chai. The real kind, with all the requisite spices, and made Punjabi style (sweet and creamy).

Yum.

Just call me Martha.


Coming Back: Volver


On Tuesday night a friend and I went to see Perdo Almodóvar's new film, Volver. It's out in theaters on November 3, but UChicago got a special, pre-release screening. It was spectacular film noir. Maybe his best (though I loved Hable con Ella and Mujeres al Borde de un Ataque de Nervios).

It's hard to tell if Volver (meaning, "to return") is a comedy or a tragedy. Life is usually hovering somewhere on the brink between tears and joy, no? He reckons with his roots, as all of us displaced/replaced/misplaced folks are apt to do, by setting it in a village like his hometown and filming it in Spain. It handles death and dying with a tenderness and a lot of humor. And the mostly female cast is made up of full, vibrant and hilarious characters.

Just a great movie experience, overall.

Anyhow, you should all go and see it, and tell me what you think. It's all I can do NOT to put any spoilers here. Then we can talk specifics.

16 October 2006

On expositions, tears and being well-adjusted

Today I turned in my first paper, which I'm not allowed to call a "paper." It was about Marx, Hegel and Adam Smith. It's a very specific kind of assignment and the profs are calling it an "analytical exposition." Whatever. If it looks like a duck... It was short and pretty excruciating to write. I heard, through the grapevine, that when the grades come out, a few folks are always found outside the program office in tears. Not tears of joy, either, mind you.

Picture it: Big, tough, graduate-student-masters-of-the-universe, in tears.

If there's anything we felt confident about when we got here, it was that we knew how to write. It's a strange sort of intellectual hazing, I think. But somehow, even though I should be flipping out, I feel pretty calm about the whole thing. A few years away from the insular ivory tower has done me a world of good.

There are real problems out there and there are certainly far more important things to stress about. So there you have it. I'm officially well adjusted.

Of course, the real test will be whether I'm found in tears on grade day.


15 October 2006

Ribs (well, corn on the cob) and Blues


Nothing beats hearing a live blues band in Chicago. This weekend I heard Charlie Love and the Silky Smooth Blues Band. Take a listen. Some in our party ate ribs, too. (The veggie options were slim, but the ale and corn on the cob made up for it.) And fyi, according to Charlie, one doesn't "dance" to the blues, one "boogies." And boy did I boogie.

I love this town.


14 October 2006

Roots in Chicago


After a long, hot summer in H-town, I'm in Chicago. Being a graduate student. And I'm going to write about it some.

A
pal told me a long time ago that I should set up a blog - to keep all my Dears in Western MA in the loop, and I never got around to it til now. Even though I'm supposed to be reading.

Mostly, I need a small (cyber)space to call my own. You know, random musings (I study philosophy, so I have many of those), as well as things I like, love and loathe. You get the picture.

So here's to wasting time, in cyberspace, no less.

Cheers to that and love love to you all.