Felices Dies Festi

Happy Holidays


So why should a hedonistic athiestic nihilist care about Christmas? Because the Winter Festivals are all socially positive.
My tenet to life is do whatever the hell I want as long as it doesn't interfere with anyone else's opportunity to do whatever the hell they want and it neutrally or positively affects the ability of our society and species to continue. (Doctrine one of social hedonism). Obviously there is a large amount of utilitarianism in there, but believe it or not there's deontology too. Kant's universalism is a great help to me when I can think of no reason NOT to do something but still feel I shouldn't. Often it's because I'm putting myself into the other person's shoes. And if you feel bad about the idea of it happening to you it fails his doctrine. This may not seem like it affects our society, but there's a need for trust in society, as Hobbes said ever so long ago. If we've handed over so much of our power to our Leviathan (and can you think of a better name for the Conversative Government? Neither can I.) we need to trust that any other control we hold over our lives isn't being run over willy-nilly by our fellow plebians.
The Winter holidays are a time to remind ourselves that we do live in a community. That community involves people in good and poor situations. That community involves friends and neighbors, loved ones and strangers.

During the other seasons there's so much to do outdoors. Community things, social things. This year I spent a lot of time at the park watching free movies and having a picnic with hundreds of other people. We made eye contact. We smiled and laughed and talked freely (with the help of a glass of wine or two.)
In the Winter we keep our heads down (or hidden by umbrellas). We want to get home to warmth, to safety and comfort. In the winter, pushing your way onto the packed bus is much more important, even if the next one is in five minutes. We lose our connexions to the other people who make up our communities.
In the Summer, it's less hard (not not-hard) to be homeless. Days are longer. Weather is warmer. Sleeping outside is a blessing, not a curse. Seasonal work is more plentiful.
But there's no berry picking in the Winter. And because of the cold snap we had in November this year, shelters have instigated a no-turn-away policy. People can sleep in chairs in the hallway if that's what it takes to keep them safe. Times when people can panhandle are drastically reduced as people stay in once it's dark. Noone cares.

But at Christmas everyone smiles, makes eye contact. The warm breezes are replaced with fairy lights, the whisper of the leaves is replaced by carols. At Christmas, even those people who feel marginalised because of belief (or lack thereof) can feel a little burst of community and societal love despite maybe not knowing -exactly- what the "original" purpose of the holiday was. Peace on Earth, Goodwill towards your fellows, Support for the plight of the less fortunate--these are what the holiday means in the here and now.
So I don't really care if you wish me a Merry Christmas, I will not lecture you. And I'm more likely to wish you a Happy Christmas than a Season's Greetings, anyway. Because whatever your theological (or ethical) beliefs, this month it feels like we are one societal machine with multiple parts...and a little bit of holiday cheer can be the lubricant we need to slide past each other for the next few dreary months.

Also, I like the excuse to spoil my nieces and nephews.

Final note : "xmas" is NOT anti-Christian. The X is the greek letter chi, and it's LONG--like, since the Romans, long--been associated with Christ.

Noli Timere Cladem Sed Ab Eo Disce!

Don't Fear Defeat But Learn From It!

I am NOT doing well in Latin class right now, and to be honest I'm slightly concerned that I will fail to pass...again. And if I fail to pass I won't try a third time. I will take French and pass in one term what I've attempted for three semesters, now.

I believe I have mentioned previously that I prefer to do what I think is hard, rather than what I'm good at. I like to try to do things to prove I can.
But I'm not stupid...failing a class twice is pretty much proof that it's time to move on. But, if I do fail Latin again and switch back to French, I will be extremely lucky in that the things I've learned in the past two years will be extremely useful not only in learning another language but in regular writing. I know more about grammar and composition now then I have ever learned in English class.

So I've decided not to be defeatist about the fact that I'm not doing too well. I'm going to learn what I can from it and go from there. And I find that this should also apply to everything else I do. If a friendship ends, or a relationship goes screwy, there's no reason to think of it as a failure, but as a learning experience. Knowing that I will never have children makes it much easier to say no to a guy asking me out now, even if he's cute, if he wants kids down the road. And this means I can pass on the advice to other people. So here's my advice for relationships--from a philosophical standpoint.

If you're old enough to start to care about what might happen in the future of a relationship, make sure you both agree in three things : sex, finances and kids.  Anything else can be reached through compromise. If one of you wants a house and one wants an apartment--get a townhouse. If you want a huge dog (oh, say, an old English mastiff) and he doesn't like dogs--get an easily taken care of dog (NOT a long-haired energetic monster, either!) But if he wants children soon and you know you'll never want them or not for a long time (or want to adopt and he insists on biological) DON'T say yes to another date! If she thinks you should have your own bank accounts and each pay only your own bills and you think a joint account and a cash "fun money" allowance is the way to go DON'T move in together! If he is strongly monogamous and gets jealous at cuddles and kisses with friends at the club and you don't think he has any right to know who you're sleeping with on any particular night DON'T sleep together again!

Optimism is all well and good in love and relationships, but these three core ideals won't change (don't give me that sh*t about women changing their minds about kids, not wanting them and not being ready for them are two completely separate things!) Optimism in school is just as fantastic...but don't waste another year on something you just cannot do.

Solomnus Pro Infirmus Est--Terminus Hebdomadis Convivium Est

Sleep is the for the weak, the weekend is for partying.  (lit trans the end of the week is a party)

I went to Billy Connolly on Friday night and a super round of birthday parties on Saturday. I will actually have a post again on Sunday night after my father tries to explain that philosophers need to pay attention to Quantum String Mechanics (Mechanics, not theory...those damned Right-Wingers think "theory" means it can be argued.)

Celer Vilis Bonus Duo Trium

Fast, Cheap, Good --Two of the Three

Now, I of course learned this little three-legged law back in Econ class...but it's not the only tres triumvirate there is. (That's a pun, get it?)

Work, Social, Love -- You get ONE, baby!

That's right, you get only ONE aspect of your life to go GREAT at any one time. All three can go okay, two can go well...but if you try to focus on one to make it really stand out, the others that are okay always fall. Seriously. Say you start dating someone new (that would be "love" *ahem*), your friends (that's "social") start to complain that you're not giving them enough time...or your boss (do you really need me to tell you that's "work"?) wonders why you're late in the morning or falling asleep at your computer.
Human beings can't win when it comes to managing their lives. We're just not made to operate in this regimented world where there's so little overlap. If we met our spouses (spice?) at work, it would be understood by everyone around. Our friends would be in our typing pool (do we see where this is going along Ange's line of mysogeny?) and all would be right in the world.

Because women are inundated with the idea that we must please everyone all of the time we can't do it. So, you know, I feel guilty about putting myself first. I feel guilty about a lot of things. But I never feel guilty about doing something for someone else...why is that?

Non Vir--Solus Homo

Not Man--Only Human (The adjective "Solus" is masculine, that doesn't make "human" refer to men only. All careers are feminine nouns.  Do we really want to be less open minded than the Romans about gender, people?)

Could it be that without the fighting between men and women for dominance we'd be too dangerous to other races/countries? Is that why we differentiate between genders in things even those that don't need to be differentiated? Okay, I get the idea of gendered bathrooms, even if I think full length unisex stalls make more sense. I get the idea of dressing babies in different colours just to spare the parents having to constantly answer the question "is it a boy or a girl". (Which is itself a stupid question. A healthy baby is a good enough thing to occur, gender withstanding!) But what the hell is up with words like "man-bag" and "man-whore".
I have grocery bags, shoulder bags, carry-on bags, messenger bags...I don't have a woman-bag. Why is there a need to specify that the bag a man is carrying is not a shoulder bag? It's kept on his shoulder, it carries things that don't fit in his pockets, it frees up his hands. Why the hell is carrying a bag such a negatively feminine idea that "man" has to be put in front of the word to make it acceptable to carry something that from its appearance is not gendered but immensely practical? 
And does "whore" really need to have the word "man" in front of it? It's already an insult, isn't it? Do you have to specify that you're only insulting his sexual proclivities and not also implying that he's feminine. Does calling a guy a "whore" really imply he's feminine, anyway? I don't think so. Himbo/bimbo is another one. "Man tart" is possibly the most absolutely ridiculous one I've heard. 
Not to say that "man" in front of a word traditionally applied to women is always stupid. Man boobs, for one. Breast implants aside, there's only one way a guy gets these and it's NOT from a distinct inflow of estrogen (notice I say guy, here. I believe MTF trans should be given the label of female as soon as they identify, I don't care what other steps they've taken.) So that one can stay.


But really, I can't help but think there must be some reason that even women use these stupid terms...as if even they agree that it's demeaning for a man to have a non-gender specific word applied to him without first making it "manly".


Simone De Beauvoir...where are you when we need you?

Vitia Futilis--Assimulabimini...Tempore.

Existence is Futile--You Will Be Assimilated...by Time.

I missed Monday night because once I finished writing my paper on the philosophy involved in W.B. Yeats' "An Irish Airman Foresees His Death" I had to fold laundry (TWO sets, what's up with that?) and go to bed.

So to make up for it, here's an interesting idea that I'm actually considering for my Master's thesis instead of the ontological and epistemological uselessness of gender identification. Then go watch Dr Who. You're welcome.

Does time flow, does time exist, how does time flow, how does time exist?
It doesn't. Almost too easy, right? But it doesn't in the way that depth doesn't exist. That is, there is something that exists IN the third dimension, and the second and the first...but there is no -third- dimension that exists independently without something in it. That's right, I'm a realist. Deal with it. But it is the same way with time. Time does not exist except for the fact that we as a species can identify that time exists. If a tree falls in a forest it makes no sound unless a human hears it. Prove me wrong, listen to a recording of a fallen log. Oh, right, you just heard it!
On top of the lack of existence of time, however, is the flow of time. Does "Tempus Fugit"? Nope. Not at all. However, Fugimus In Temporem, We Fly Away In Time. I mean, the same way there is no third dimension without there being something to exist in that third dimension there is no fourth (or 3 1/2th, whateves).  We have a dimension of time because we move within it.

Now, here's the thing I'm not sure about: are we continually different beings? We flicker between each non-important change until we no longer recognise ourselves. I am NOT a baby (shut UP, okay?) I am not an old woman (I SAID shut UP!). But somehow I seem to be getting from one to the other.
Plato's forms...Aristotle's ideals...how do I change when my properties cannot change but must be replaced? How can I be tanned now when I wasn't tanned at birth, if it's an essential property. And if it's not an essential property then why is the colour of my skin the only thing separating me from some doppelganger wandering around Vancouver? (Seriously, I got asked TWICE what my name is and if I'm from Edmonton. Do two other women have peacock hair, or do they think I'm their friend, now changed? WTF?)
I get this image that within each second, we flicker in and out of existence...becoming that slightly different person we need to be to make the "passage of time" worthwhile.
Or maybe I should really NOT be allowed to watch "Bill and Ted" right before reading Prior.

Hopefully, now that the crunch before finals is over, I'll be more interesting. Don't count on it but I think my next post will be about sex, if at least about gender politics.

Dominica Non Numerat

Sunday Doesn't Count

I am not able to philosophise. I was up late, got up early, drank too much and worked too hard.

All the muscles in my body hurt. And why? Because I was the Princess at Noir Fetish Ball (NSFW). What does that entail? Well, I didn't manage to get past the front bar at the club for an HOUR; I had too many people to greet and chat with. I always knew where the host was, to make sure issues could be resolved immediately. I was there FAR past closing to make sure everyone was gone and all the stuff came home. And when I didn't want to deal with something, or needed someone to do something outrageous...out came the lanyard that says "Princess".

Needless to say, I might have been slightly drunk with power (and particularly awesome beer thanks to Ezra at The New Cobalt). But I'm a benevolent dictator so I can't see how that could be a bad thing. Also, if I'm a benevolent dictator then the dictatorship is theological. I answer to a higher power...namely the promoters. And they're MUCH worse. LOL

Back at philosophy tomorrow, after writing a paper interpreting the moral purpose of Yeat's Irish Airman.

I lead an interesting life.

Mox Heri Fit Hodie et Heri Numquam Venit

Soon Yesterday Becomes Today and Tomorrow Never Comes.

There is a certain type of person who lives in the past. When fights occur, things done days, months, even years in the past are brought as accusation. They lend themselves to the anger of the moment and punishment can be meted. You might be thinking this certain type of person is "woman"; you would be wrong.
I am a very present-oriented person. I know how I feel now, at this moment. Perhaps I can think of what's occured over the past week...sometimes the past month. I do not care or consider what happened months ago when making decisions. I do not bring up what happened last week that made me mad, when arguing, unless it is an example of a repeated behaviour that is the focus of the discussion. I do not care if you never call me, if we're discussing the fact that you're always late, for example (obviously an example as I hate talking on the phone). This might seem, to people confused by the stereotypical "woman's argument" of constant reminders of failure, to be a godsend. This is not the case. Because while I will not remember the bad things you've done, neither will I remember the good. Oh, joy, that if I haven't been taken to dinner this month I will complain that I -never- get taken to dinner, never mind C Restaurant just last month. (Specific, yes. This is the closest you're getting to an apology, you-know-who-you-are.)

But the other part of this little time-dilation of mine is that I am FEARFUL of the future. I do not like to plan for it. I do not like to think on it...and when I do think on it it's in the most negative way possible. It's not a stunted adolescence type thing, I don't think. (There's plenty of other evidence for that!) It's simply that I am always striving to make my present as pleasant as possible (notice the "hedonist" in the label up there?) that I can't think how change could possibly be a good thing...even if it's success! I know I should be planning how to get into grad school. I know I should at least be planning what to do if I don't get in right away. But I'm not. I can barely focus on the paper that I have due in three days (no worries, it's all written in my head.) I know I should enjoy the time I have with friends, without concerning myself as to whether our friendship will change for the worse if things alter right now. If I don't call someone for days it's often because I'm afraid that I haven't called them in a while (remember the selective past memory?) and they'll be upset. It's Schrodinger's Friendship...if you don't call there's as much possibility that they're not mad as that they are. It goes for relationships, too. I do not like them to change. Even in the best ways possible, I know it's always the worst thing I can do. Luckily I'm also a romantic, so after digging in my boot heels I still fall head over heals or the equivalent.

What I'm saying is, the past is a distant memory, the future should never arrive, and the present that I have is pretty damned awesome. Thanks, every single one of you around, that make it that way.

Exstincta Sum

I am burned out.

Seriously, I have nothing to talk about: I'm stressed about the end of the term, I got a really crappy mark on my Lit paper, I'm dealing with a stressed out friend, I'm not quite sure what the hell is going on in my life.

I'm going to take the day off.

Difficila Pensa Non Semper Optimae Res Facere Sunt

Difficult Tasks Are Not Always the Best Things to Do.

I got 76% on my Ontology paper but 93% on my Lit one. Yet, my focus if I choose to go on with philosophy will be on reality, modality, existentialism and gender roles.
I have published one short story in all my years, no novels at all, but my poetry seems to be a big hit.
Why? Why is it that I feel the need to strive to succeed at things I'm obviously less talented at? Why don't I publish poem after poem. Get a degree in Literature and teach new kids the difference between who and whom for the rest of my life? What is this need I have to prove I can do what I see other people doing, even when I am inherently bad at it?

Because I find them rewarding, I suppose. The fact that I'll never publish a story doesn't mean that I'm not proud to have written them. I wrote two novels, how many people that you meet say that? And even though I'll probably graduate with too low an average to get into a Master's program, I will still be able to say I have a degree in Philosophy and my favourite writers are Russell and Kripke, not Atwood and Shakespeare.
More accurately, though, my poetry doesn't say anything about me or the way I think. It is a series of words put down on paper to express a single thought at a single moment. There is no deep meaning to anything I do that I succeed at.  It's only in my failure that you see what I actually am.

Is that a human trait, I wonder? Or is it Middle Child Syndrome? My sister is ridiculously gifted in artistic endeavours; she understands literature and cares about it in a way I never will. I do not like to read literature. Hell, I'm not a fan of poetry. To succeed with something I don't like seems cheap to me, a cop out. And I don't think there actually is a philosophical stance to most literature. There's a point, certainly, often a moral. But the moral rarely has anything to do with the Philosophy of Ethics--it's usually a nice way of convincing people to either keep their heads down and do what's best for the community or to think for themselves and make sure to do what they think is best. Anyone else notice the dichotomy? Yeah, me too. Morality is for philosophers that don't care why the sky is blue, as long as we can all see it.
(On that topic, the double rainbow meme is my favourite one ever. What does it mean? Isn't it nice to ask?) I don't want to do the easy thing and have an easy grey life. I want to be stimulated and frustrated and have someone tell me I'm an idiot for saying something that another person praises. I don't have anything to contribute to philosophy that someone smarter than me, and more able to express themselves, can contribute. But Imma ride one their coattails 'til they get wise to my attention-seeking ways.

Pulverem Pulveri Est Quod Oculus Talio pro Oculo Est

It is Dust to Dust Because an Eye is Payment for an Eye

We are a vindictive species. We build celebrities up to tear them down. We wallow in the disgrace of unpopular politicians and revel in the failure of the popular ones. We like to know we are not the only average smucks...if you stick your neck out you'll end up with egg on your face.

So here's a thought...what's up with the penal system? In a short discussion on suitable punishment for violent crime that I was involved in (in order to get juiciness to write on this, of course) one participant suggested that "rotting in jail is a much better sentence than ending someone's life. Can't do much reflection or suffering in death." Yet I can remember (not clearly, as I was young and more interested in NKOTB than in opinions on capital punishment) hearing something that stuck with me, namely, that "we put down mad dogs, right? Should mad humans be different?"What is the point of the judicial system, anyway?
I don't trust the current judicial system enough to commit to capital punishment, but I will defend vehemently anyone who kills in self-defense or the defense of another. I would quite happily break Mr. Pickton's neck for him if he'd just step this way, because I am sure, I am sure, that he did what he's been convicted of. I don't believe in ending someone's life just because they've commited a capital crime. Rather, I think it's important to remove dangers from society so that society can thrive. And some people are just going to be dangerous until they are no more. I also don't believe that the penitentiary should be used to make someone suffer for their crime or give them time to reflect on the consequences of their actions. The only way one person can be absolved of the guilt of what they've done, in my mind, is to repent of it and make restitution with the victim...if not the victim then to society as a whole. Jail is an outward sign of paying that restitution and it's a time to learn that the repentence is needed, not through reflection but through understanding the point of society--why you hurt yourself by hurting others. Pain and suffering is not the goal, I hope, I think...but we are a vindictive species, like I said.
We are so vindictive, and so selfish and self-involved and greedy and cowardly that we have jails, and tough on crime legislation, and bickering over the necessary punishments because we need to prove to ourselves that crime doesn't pay. That the only reason we go to work, or school, and listen to teachers and bosses tell us what to do, is because it's the only smart way to get ahead. If we commit crimes we'll be stuck in little rooms of boredom and pain. We're smart for not pushing the envelope, we're smart for playing it safe. Just like we build up people to tear them down, we revel in the misfortune of others that might have taken a misstep because it's reinforcement that we've done right by never straying from the acceptable path. 
I'm not anarchistic because I think I won't get my fair share, I'm not a hedonist because I'm too dumb to know better. I am who I am because there is nothing to be afraid of in living by what you know, deep down, is right. And the only way I can know what's right is by knowing the point of it all. And the point is this : we're each of us here to make sure that the species survives and we get and give no more chance than and to any other. But that's it. I don't commit capital crimes because that deprives someone else of the chance, but I certainly don't need to stare morbidly at crime statistics to reassure myself that I'm doing the right thing. And I don't need to rant endlessly about the wrongness of how or if we kill each other...because we'll keep doing it. 


But I won't. 
Unless it's Robert Pickton.

"Two roads diverged in a wood and I//I took the one less travelled by" -- Robert Frost

Amor qui eius facis est

Love is what you make it.

The Beatles (Paul, especially) got it just right. So why is it, then, that we differentiate the types of love? Eros, Agape, Paternal/Maternal, being in love, loving someone, liking someone...it goes on. And what about the 7year itch? Does that mean you don't love your partner, even though just the thought of never seeing them again might cause your stomach to clench in anxiety whilst you gaze in transfixed desire towards a person you've never slept with before and can't bear to think of never touching. Is that love? It's not worth it to satisfy that craving and risk losing the companionship of a near decade, is it? Even if that new person might be your "soul mate"? Of course it's not...because cheating is wrong. I don't disagree with Dan Savage completely in this, though. I think trying to control your partner's sexuality to match your own is a kind of cheating, too. I just don't think that two wrongs make a right. Communication, people! But that infatuated lust that can sometimes become a longterm commitment because the guilt of ending longterm relationship for sexual satisfaction isn't love. If you actually do fall in love whilst currently emotionally entangled, I see nothing morally wrong with ending one relationship for another, so I guess Queen (mostly Brian May) had that right too. You don't stop loving one person when you start to love another.
But I digress, I was discussing the labelling and qualifying of love. Being in love and loving someone are two different things, hands down. But I don't see why I can't love someone in an "eros" kinda way at the same time I'm IN love with someone else in the same way. And by the end of my last long-term relationship I definitely was in love with my partner in an "agape" but not "eros" fashion. Can you love someone like a brother but still want to sleep with them? Can you be head over heels in love with someone and have no desire to ever see them naked? Why is a definite sexual element required for mainstream culture to consider a relationship healthy or permanent? "Hetero life mate" may be a jokey term but it's pretty damned solid as a possibility. Not everyone's going to find the sexual partner of their dream but I betcha they have a best friend...even if it's their pet. (And no, I'm not going to start an ethics conversation on bestiality.)
What is it about love that scares us all, not just philosophers, musicians and romantics, so much that we must label every little aspect of it? And when we no longer feel that need as a society and know only that we care, on some deep level, for many someones in combination...will that make us something more than the jealous, needy creatures we are now? Homo Amans--the loving man.

"And in the end, the love you take//is equal to the love you make" -- Paul McCartney.
"Too much love will kill you, it will make your life a lie.//Torn between a lover, and the love you left behind" -- Brian May.

Dominica Non Numerari Potest

Sunday doesn't count

Sorry, folks. I got some information from a close friend tonight that wipes any philosophy but socio/politico from my mind.

I am VERY proud of the members of the military that I know.
You are doing what you know is right.
Whether I, or anyone else, agree with reasoning doesn't matter.
You are doing what you know is right, and I am PROUD to know you.
I am proud OF you.

Come back with your shield or on it. But please, with it, or I'll hunt you down.

Soldiers, military, anyone in past service. Thank you.

Pulchritudo Est Maior Sapientia

Beauty is Greater than Wisdom

"So smart it's scary."
That's how I've been described by acquaintances, friends, strangers in bars. I can't say it's really thrilling because I think intelligence is nothing to be proud of. I was born with the brains I have, I have no reason to think I'm better than others. I'm also a very very fast runner. No one says I'm so quick it's scary. It's supposed to be a backwards kind of compliment, I'm sure. But saying I'm the above basically describes the person speaking as somewhat less intelligent than I. That's just wrong.
We idolise musicians, actors, sports stars. We don't idolise research scientists, doctors,...,not even philosophers (and of COURSE we should idolise them!) Everyone we idolise can do something we can't. So to describe my brains as something feared, even when the fear is colloquial, is making a mockery of something that we all have. I use large words. I speak with correct (or nearly correct) grammar. I like to find out things that don't matter, and I argue when I don't agree. But there's absolutely  no reason to think that I'm any more intelligent or any smarter than anyone else.

Can't you love me because I'm beautiful?

Possibilia Omnia Sub Sole Sunt

All Possible Things are Under the Sun

Having a look at possible v necessary in Ontology class these days.  It's amazing to find that I actually -have- been thinking about all of this for the past thirty*ahem* years.

It's also really disappointing to realise that Kripke's right and there is absolutely NO chance that I'll ever get to pet a unicorn. Cornelia is disappoint. (There's only one person in the entire world (our actual world) who might get that reference.)

I'm a writer, so of course I need "make believe" in my life without fear that Heinlein's views of pandimensional solipsism actually apply. But I've also been a devoted fangirl of Terry Pratchett so I allowed that his theory of the trousers of reality might have something to them. I don't know now, though. Kripke's argument that the identifier of "unicorn" is established as myth only seems pretty solid. It is a necessary fact about unicorns that they exist in a non-real sense, just as Quine's Pegasus exists as an idea but not in reality. So even if we were to posit that there are, in some possible world, fossilised remains of horse-like creatures with horns growing from their foreheads, they couldn't be called unicorns.  And if in the deepest jungles of Brazil some logger stumbled across a virgin with a horned, horse-like creature with its head in her lap (and don't get me started on the sociological implications of that aspect of the myth, please) it wouldn't be a unicorn. Not to say we wouldn't -call- it a unicorn, because we're lazy humans so of course we would. But it would be disappointingly banal, the same way that dragons turned out to be dinosaurs. Wouldn't dinosaurs be even cooler if we hadn't originally thought they could breathe fire and the huge ones could fly?

Dammit, Kripke, you owe me a pony.

Parsimonia maior pars commenti est

Parsimony is the greater part of a lie.

I just wrote on my dislike of lying. While my reason seems noble I must admit it is not the entirety...which really gives weight to my title, doesn't it? I avoid lying because it has become an abused art. It is so badly performed an act that people will now swallow anything they're told simply so they don't have to call others out on how horridly they've told a lie.
I think it would be so wonderful if people would follow Robert Heinlein's advice. There are three ways to tell a good lie :
1) Tell just enough of the truth to make it seem like the entirety
2) Tell a lie with as little information as possible.
3) Tell the truth in such a way as to make it seem like you are lying.

Obviously the third is very difficult to do. The other two come down to one point - don't say ANYTHING.  My favourite response to a nosy question I don't want to answer is stony silence. (Okay, I kind of understand why I sometimes come over as a bitch.) If it is a question that the interrogator has a right to ask, I say as little as possible while not seeming to leave anything out. Allusion is also a benefit.

If people made more of an effort, so would I. Until such time, however, I'll simply continue telling the truth...or not speaking.

Like that will ever happen.

Daily blogging - Part Two

"Philosophy is trying to label things." So said I today while discussing aesthetics with an Art History major. She'd recently sat through a seminar with a Philosophy professor, and by the end of it she and her friends were rather perplexed by what the prof thought of as important.
In my Phil of Art class we spent three months trying to determine what makes something art, what aesthetics mean. It turns out that actual artists and critics don't give a flying funk, they just want to know if it's GOOD. Well, what do you know? Philosophers don't care. That old saying "I don't know what is art but I know what I like" doesn't apply to us. I don't care if it's GOOD art, apparently, I'm just supposed to care if I can classify it as such.
And luckily, that's pretty much what I do. If something that is not being used for any mundane purpose it put forth to me I judge it. I love dada. Man Ray, Dali...Duchampe. Art isn't necessarily beautiful (although Dali's paintings were certainly aesthetically pleasing). And it isn't necessarily difficult or complex (although Man Ray's photography often surpassed his painting in that area). And sometimes it is a political statement about art itself (thank you, M. Duchampe!). But what art is, to me, is something whose main purpose is to achieve an aesthetic response. Not to follow the rules, not to break them. Not because someone says it is, or to force them to say why it isn't. I think art is in what we breathe...but I think the air molecules might say the same for our lungs...so red and smooth (or black and phlegmy in my case).

My writing isn't art...even my poetry isn't art. Emotions aren't art. Emotional expression isn't art. Emotional evocation is.

My god, I'm a solipsist.

Daily blogging

I'm going to attempt a daily blog, since with school and other things (read : social life) I am again not participating in NaNoWriMo. And yes, I'm fully aware that I'm not beginning at the beginning, so to speak. I will continue to aim to discuss philosophy in daily life, but I'm sure on occassion there will be frivolity. Perhaps on those days I will simply link toWhen Not To Say We Should Still Be Friends and continue with my romantic obsession with romance. We shall see.

In the meantime, I have a question : how tightly do you stick to your moral values? And when you fail to stick to what you have always believed to be right, do you suffer the cognitive dissonance in silence or do you reevaluate your world view?
I think I'm aiming for a corresponding theory with enough cohesion to justify my true beliefs, but I'm a pragmatist. Why suffer for my mistakes when my weak flesh doesn't stand up to my lofty ideals?

I lie, sometimes, because it's easier. Not about the big stuff, which is strange. But since I believe lying is a form of shame and I try not to do anything I'm ashamed of, I shouldn't lie. Yet I find myself doing it more often these days, in an effort not to disappoint people who have different values or ideas than I do. I could stand up for myself, justify why I do or say something instead of lying...but it doesn't seem worth it sometimes. I suspect it's my hedonistic side sticking out. Why fight when it's not going to get what you want? Still, I sometimes chide myself...

Why do we do what we know we shouldn't?

The Cure for Perfection

Over at Single Dad Laughing he's gotten onto a serious note of late. Currently he's working on getting responses for the Cure for Perfection. He's asking for 3 things listed in the comments: 1) the hardest thing you've gone through, and why it was hard. 2) A message to yourself then from where you are now. 3) What his article on Perfection meant to you.

I am not going to approach the first two because this isn't a personal blog (in terms of personal experiences applied to daily life, anyway). But I do have something to say about the third. Because it's the reason I am 32 years old and still not out of university.
I have a fear of failure. Of course, most people who are hyper critical of themselves do. What they don't often also have is a fear of success.
I know I can do anything I set my mind to (okay, maybe not grow that goatee I've always wanted, but you understand what I mean). I know that I have the intelligence and determination to accomplish any goal I set myself. I also have a very bad case of low self-esteem. Let's not get into why...the jury's still out. But the result of this problem is that as soon as I get close to succeeding, or farther ahead on the way to the goal than my perceived peers, I chicken out. I make excuses, throw tantrums, whatever is necessary to make sure I don't actually win what I want.

Because people might not like me then. And I'm already pretty sure I'm already unlikeable. I could be perfect if I wanted to be but then all those people out there that aren't perfect would think I'm an insufferable prat. So I never let myself find out if I really could be as great as I think is possible. Because I'm much happier having people forgive all my faults because I'm at least amusingly incompetent.

Ooh, a narcissist that dislikes themselves. Jungians, Freudians...GO!

And that's what perfection means to me. Something that I intentionally don't court, so all the fantastic, wonderful people in my life keep me as a mascot.

Cohabitation Agreements v. Weddings

For the record, although this is another wedding post. I am not turning this into a relationship blog. I have one for that When Not To Say We Should Still Be Friends. However, after watching Dan Savage on Why He Wanted to Get Married and after having a very interesting argument with my parents concerning the purpose of a wedding, over the weekend, I find that once again my philosophical thoughts drift in a wedding way. At least this time it's the purpose rather than the setting.

I begin by stating that I feel government and church sanctioned weddings are all about the piece of paper. My mother says otherwise, that the purpose of a wedding is to stand up before friends and family (and sometimes gods if you swing that way) to declare your commitment. But if that is the case, I must ask, why do you have to sign the wedding contract then? Can you ask a church to allow you entrance, and a parson to perform the ceremony, without a wedding license? No, you can't. I've asked.
I believe, then, what my mother means is that a wedding and a marriage are two separate events combined. One is a declaration before those important to you, and the other is a signing of a contract to show to all and sundry how serious you are about the whole thing. Fair enough. And congratulations to all the blushing brides and love struck grooms I know and will know within the next few years.

You are taking a tremendous step.

So why the F*** does my standing up in front of my family and friends and signing a contract that legally binds me to another person count for nothing?
A marriage contract implicitly allows for another person to make your decisions for you if you cannot make them yourself, allows for the exact equal split of assets (if -another- contract, the premarital agreement, doesn't counter it) in case of separation, provides access to healthcare and insurance to each other and generally makes it clear that you're in this together. A legally binding cohabitation contract explicitly states that you do not have to make life and death decisions not previously discussed, because the executor of your will and living-will (who happens to be your sister) will do that, that acts as a premarital agreement in terms of separation, in a country where you can designate the healthcare benificiary and health insurance recipient, and -also-, in some contracts, declares that if he uses your GODDAMNED TOWEL again he must buy you a new one (for the first infraction, penalties increase upon frequency). So why is this CLEARLY superior contract, when signed in front of all of your family and friends less meaningful than a hastily scribbled signature in a courthouse down the street.
Thanks, Government, but I'll decide on the barriers and exigent circumstances that I require in my contracts. Also, my family is not full of nutbars so my Will will not be fought against in court.

I want the damned towel.

Happy Wedding Day!

I went to my middle cousin's (like middle sibling, explanatory?) wedding yesterday. Had an inordinately large amount of fun. Talked to family in a way I haven't in quite some time, recalling the past without bitterness or anger.
The only mar on an otherwise perfect outting was when the gentlemen stepped outside. Now, it might seem kind of odd to separate the genders in this day an age, for my father to take his son, son-in-law and my flavour of the month (okay, okay, flavour of the decade) outside for a scotch and a cigar, but he does. And as usual, I latched onto a pretense in order to sneak a quick puff of a small (but delicious) mini-stogie. And my father suggested that I stay and have one of my own.

I didn't accept my father's invitation because I know that as much as I can relate more to the guys, and the conversation is loads more to my interest, I'm still a girlie girl and they may feel it necessary to censor their conversation so as not to offend me. Or I'd stear the subject closer to something I can share. The conversation still at the table was about things that don't affect my life. I do not have children, have no hope of owning a house and redecorating in the near future, and will probably never have a relationship ceremony (unless flavour-of-the-decade wins the lottery in ten years or so?) so couldn't speak on anything that my mother, sister and brother's girlfriend had to talk about. (They don't only talk about this stuff, of course, but did I mention it was a WEDDING?)

I don't belong with the men. Yet, the conversation that had erupted since the exodus of Y chromosomes didn't interest me either.
I'm not a lesbian, but I'm not straight. I'm not a socialist but I'm not a conservative. I'm not young but I'm not old.
I am absolutely nothing that can be labelled...and I like labels.

This is going to be a long decade.

You cannot disprove what isn't there.

"All right, Athiests. If you don't think there's an invisible man in the sky, prove that God does not exist."

Okay, so it's not a direct quotation from Eddie Izzard, but that's only because he's MUCH funnier than I am and I could not be expected to remember everything the man said word for word. The show went for two and a half hours, ignoring intermission. So give me a break. Or not, if you weren't reading that thinking "that's not what he said" or something to the equivalent. Where was I? Right, Izzard (may I call him Eddie? You don't mind, do you? He'll never know and it makes me feel closer to the fount of interesting anecdotes...and diversions), anyway, Eddie made a good point. If we're going off of proof vs faith, and Christians (Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, et al but mostly Christians) say that athiests should -prove- God doesn't exist then shouldn't they be subject to the same rules of any scientific argument? Shouldn't they have to prove that the invisible man in the sky exists? That man that noone ever sees, hears or interacts with in any way since, what, Moses? Yeah, Moses...Noah? Whatever. Or they can stick to their faith based argument...like me. 'Cause, you know, like I've said before, it's not that I don't believe in gods, goddesses or God. I just am really really pissed off at them at the moment. We're not talking. Believing in gods is like believing in cheese sandwiches. Why do you need to believe when it's obviously right in front of you?

Excuse me, a cheese sandwich sounds good right now.

What is selling out?

I find myself in a bit of a pickle, namely that I have no way to pay my rent in a month.
Lemme 'splain.
I've been going to university full-time, summer, fall and spring, for two straight years. I am now burnt out. So I decided to take the summer off this year to recupe and teach myself stuff that isn't taught (or taught to someone who learns like I do) at my school. Naturally, I saved enough money to get me through May. Naturally, I lined up work that would mean I could supplement this cash and get me to September and perhaps replace the torn and ratty hoodie that is my constant companion. Which brings me to the pickle.
The job fell through.
I have bright pink, short hair.
I have multiple facial piercings.
I have visible tattoos.
I am a trained, very adept bookkeeper.
So is it an affront to my schooling, my talent and my ability if I get a job washing dishes because it's the only temporary job I can get looking the way I do? Or should I bite the bullet, bleach out the pink and dye it brown (ick!) wear long sleeves and take out my piercings and apply at temp agencies?
I don't work well with others, I am a horrible boss (though a good reference for new people) and prefer not to communicated with clients. I really am a naturally born bean counter or philosopher...

We're running out of plots!

And I don't mean sepulchuric plots.; there's lots of room in the cemetary, I noticed so on my way to my parent's house on Sunday...huge sections with no one buried, but that's beside the point.

The point is, truly, that I started reading a novel today loaned to me by a very understanding (and also university-attending, which may have a lot to do with the understanding part of things) friend many months ago, before I started the four months of hell that were taking Logic & Computablility and Latin II and Socio-Political Philosophy and the Philosophy of Art all AT THE SAME TIME.
It's an interesting novel. But I can't get over the feeling that it must be rooted somewhere in Greek mythology or possibly common English folklore, because it strikes me as being very close in conception (but not inception nor actualisation) to Terry Pratchett's Reaper Man. I think of Pratchett's work (and if you don't read his Discworld series please do so now as otherwise you shall NEVER be able to understand my extensive use of parentheses in place of his rather unorthodox use of footnotes (why does it seem that blogspot doesn't believe in footnotes and is there something I can do about that?)) as holding a funhouse mirror up to reality (as opposed to slice of life fiction that holds a normal mirror up). That screwiness is why I can manage to bring myself to read work that has a lot to say -without subtlety- about daily life. And now existentialist literature seems to be doing the same thing.

So now I fear I am not the only person out there that thinks dada, surrealism, existentialism and social commentary can be mixed with science fiction. I'm never going to publish those damned crap novels at this rate.

Workaholic? I'm not addicted to Workahol!

Do I work too much? My social life is failing quite badly because of my school schedule. But my friends know I'm in university. They have mostly all attended post secondary school, everyone knows what it's like to be overworked. Is it because I work like a dog for three months then party like a rock star for one? Do they not take my education seriously? Maybe they don't remember what it was like when they were in school?

And then I remember, I'm in my thirties. My youngest close friend graduated from school this past year. Now she has a "real job". Those who went through university in times past did the traditional "live on campus" thing. Some left school because a social life seemed more important. I'm the only life-student I know except for family members.

I am in class for approximately 12 hours a week. Part-time, obviously, until you account for the fact that I'm expected to put in at least three hours (five-eight is more often recommended) outside class time for each hour of lecture. I need to put in 32-48 hours...that's full time, right?
And then term ends...oh, dear.

I am stressed out, overworked, overwrought and poor.

If you love a student, this month give that person a care package, a hug, and a promise to call in May.

Thanks.

Communitarian v Libertarian

Where does the line sit between the needs of the society and the needs of the members of that society? And when is it okay to cross that line?
At my age, in my social circle, in my Province it's much more likely that I end up chatting with a Socialist, or at least a liberal when I chat at all about politics. And I have to admit that their opinions surprise me. Sometimes I'm even shocked by what seems a ridiculously naive and wasteful viewpoint. But then sometimes, just sometimes, I'm rooting for 'em.

Libertarian : Nozick quite aptly summarises it in two words : Minimal State. If you use the word "libertarian" people mention Ayn Rand. But Ayn Rand was -not- a philosopher, she was a fiction writer who used books to push her own untried and unproven ideas on people that really should know better. Libertarianism is the idea that each person should be free to live their own lives as they see fit. Security and judicial functions are needed--that's where the Minimal state comes in--but that doesn't mean one shouldn't help those in need. Charity is a moral and good thing to do. But the government, to libertarians, isn't for -making- you do it.
Communitarian : Like socialism without the free love and free condoms. The community must come first because without the community there is no individual. We're not talking about drones, of course, but that a person is individuated in respect to their community; you are different depending on which society you are in. It's not so much that everyone deserves to be taken care of but rather that everyone needs to be taken care of to ensure the health of the community.

Somehow, though, they're not exclusive. I think of myself as a Social Libertarian. Universal Healthcare with a Private Option? Yes, I'm not sure how to make it sustainable but I sure do believe in it. Why? Because it ensures the continuation of the society as a whole, not just the health of those that can afford it. Universal Free Education? Yes, (and not just because I'm a student) if we better the minds and abilities of everyone then the standard of living may rise for everyone. I don't accept the idea that the only way to improve your lot is by climbing over the bodies of others. Why do I care about improving Society? Because there's no other reason for us to be here than to make sure it's still here for others down the line. Gain as much wealth as you want--you'll still die. And whether that wealth goes to your descendents or back to the society you came from it ain't yours no more.

Be comfortable, be happy, but try to let others be happy too.

Oh...strife!

My favourite curse word is Jesus F@*#. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it grew out of those blasphemous, wiccan friendly urban fantasies I read as a teenager. Mercedes Lackey's characters in her Diana Tregarde series liked the phrase "Jesus H. Frog on a pogo stick". I tried that one for a while but it's so bulky. It's not very useful for stubbing toes, twisting joints or breaking bones (and I do all three a lot). More likely it's because when I was a starry-eyed wiccan I refused to say "god damn", so over time I morphed from "gods damn it" to "gods f@*# it" (incidentally, if you are wondering what is censored, you probably aren't old enough to read this so kindly go find Scott Adams blog...at least for a few years). And, after renouncing all religion (I'll talk about that in a later post) and even over time renouncing atheism (and I'll talk about that in an even later post) I think I might have reincorporated the worst of the phrases I could think of. When I curse, I want -everyone- to turn and find out if I've stepped in nuclear goo...or maybe I just tore my teeshirt.

Which causes strife.

Really.

I'm.........BACK, Baby!

I am currently failing both Latin II and Symbolic Logic II. The fact that I, oh so many years ago, wanted to be a computer programmer and, not as many years ago but more than I wish to admit to, an English major (so as to improve my writing), is not lost on me.
Obviously I am not going to be an Analytical Philosophy professor. I am also not going to make more money with a PhD as I will if I pass the bar. Seeing as I don't look at any of this as my career but rather as something to do to pass the time when I don't write, it seems prudent to chase the best salary.

Incidentally, salary really does come from the Latin word for salt, because that's what they were paid in. Also, marching that much made you sweaty. Mmm...sweaty Roman soldiers.......

: )