I've been thinking just now for like 20 seconds.
I was thinking about Aaron, one of Bri's charges.
He's nine I think.
Nine should be the age of adulthood.
He still has to round some developmental curves, but if we culturally instituted nine as the age of adulthood, I think most kids would meet the challenge. He has all the intelligence necessary to get a job, handle adults. He's apparently emotionally volatile, but if there were social expectations that he would be trafficking with the adults and keeping his shit together, he would whip that a little more into shape.
Brianna probably will disagree with me totally about this.
But it just seems to me that much of his good behavior could be harnessed, and it seems that much of his bad behavior is in large part the result of folks allowing him (expecting of him? requiring of him?) that he be childish. I just see a very interesting man in him (and in other kids his age: my cousins whom I saw over christmas--they're _young men_).
Child prodigies have just been given room to be human earlier.
12.31.2010
12.30.2010
To answer Max:
The pain started going away gradually once I took the antibiotics. It really started kicking in around 1pm.
When I got the dentist, they shot me up with novocaine, and that was it. Numb. Happy.
When they pulled the tooth I didn't feel it at all.
From then on it was a matter of feeling uncomfortable for having a fat face.
No trace of toothache, since there's no trace of tooth.
Today, the swelling it almost gone. I look normal, but my mouth is just a little constricted. Soon, though, I will be normal again.
I will glow.
The pain started going away gradually once I took the antibiotics. It really started kicking in around 1pm.
When I got the dentist, they shot me up with novocaine, and that was it. Numb. Happy.
When they pulled the tooth I didn't feel it at all.
From then on it was a matter of feeling uncomfortable for having a fat face.
No trace of toothache, since there's no trace of tooth.
Today, the swelling it almost gone. I look normal, but my mouth is just a little constricted. Soon, though, I will be normal again.
I will glow.
Methods for Spelunking through the Abyss.
After a certain threshold, pain makes you lose it a bit.
Some methods for dealing with pain:
1. Wiggling.
2. Taking drugs.
3. Taking more drugs.
4. Hurting yourself in some unrelated way, to distract from the original pain.
5. Sometimes number 4 takes the form of throwing up because of too much number 3.
6. Rationalizing. Sometimes this is just saying "no pain no gain." When I was a kid, I would rationalize in terms of what pleasures I had experienced which were somehow causing this pain. I imagined there being a kind of pain/pleasure equilibrium being reached whenever I would suffer, thereby somehow justifying my pain. But this doesn't work anymore. Now the rationalization tends to take the form of explaining to myself that this pain is temporary, and that in a matter of time I will not feel the pain and will even have trouble remembering what the pain was like/how long the pain lasted/etc. For instance, now I do not have a toothache. And all I remember about hanging out with Daniel, Max, Laura, Brianna, and Jenny is (a) that I was in pain (Though I Don't Remember The Experience At All Vividly--And It Was Three Days Ago) and (b) Daniel was damn funny. This kind of rationalization does not help much in the moment, but at the very least it is something to do.
7. Hurt yourself more in the very location/manner in which you are already hurting. Spike the pain, so that when it levels back to a steady degree of intense pain, it will feel, for a time, as less.
8. Pray to God. Plead. Demand Reasons. Beg for Mercy. Curse. Weep.
9. Quote Oscar Wilde: "Lord, spare me the physical pain; I can handle the spiritual pain."
10. Search for anything good about the experience of the pain. Sometimes, if the pain is throbbing, it will begin to follow a pattern. Just the pattern of the pain can make it a little more bearable. That it is somehow organized and that expectations can form around it make it itself somehow more manageable. Like a terrible music.
11. Go for walks.
12. I think of this now, wishing I had thought of it before: Get Krunk.
13. At some point, I think the brain starts trying things out itself. It loosens some connections. It simulates getting krunk. You can't reason the same: memories blend, priorities fade, you fail to grasp exactly what's going on. The brain just unplugs a few gizmos here and there to save the whole system, hoping the renegade bit will sort itself out. Cuts the engines and sends power to shields or whatever. This is where you lose it a bit. Categories and objects begins to blur in such a way that the pain has no constant, discernible background to stand out against. All that exists is the pain, but you don't recognize it as pain. It just is what you're doing. It is what is going on. It's the environment. Everything else jars against it, rather than the other way around. Just having to interact in the world hurts, while the pain establishes itself as the steady norm to which you want to return undisturbed.
14. Oh yeah, your face swells up like a balloon.
15. You call your mom. She tells you, in her all-knowing way, cool as cucumber way, what to do and how to do it. She doesn't whimper or pamper you. She just acts as efficiently and directly as possible to get you out of that pain. To fix you. I love you, mom.
Some methods for dealing with pain:
1. Wiggling.
2. Taking drugs.
3. Taking more drugs.
4. Hurting yourself in some unrelated way, to distract from the original pain.
5. Sometimes number 4 takes the form of throwing up because of too much number 3.
6. Rationalizing. Sometimes this is just saying "no pain no gain." When I was a kid, I would rationalize in terms of what pleasures I had experienced which were somehow causing this pain. I imagined there being a kind of pain/pleasure equilibrium being reached whenever I would suffer, thereby somehow justifying my pain. But this doesn't work anymore. Now the rationalization tends to take the form of explaining to myself that this pain is temporary, and that in a matter of time I will not feel the pain and will even have trouble remembering what the pain was like/how long the pain lasted/etc. For instance, now I do not have a toothache. And all I remember about hanging out with Daniel, Max, Laura, Brianna, and Jenny is (a) that I was in pain (Though I Don't Remember The Experience At All Vividly--And It Was Three Days Ago) and (b) Daniel was damn funny. This kind of rationalization does not help much in the moment, but at the very least it is something to do.
7. Hurt yourself more in the very location/manner in which you are already hurting. Spike the pain, so that when it levels back to a steady degree of intense pain, it will feel, for a time, as less.
8. Pray to God. Plead. Demand Reasons. Beg for Mercy. Curse. Weep.
9. Quote Oscar Wilde: "Lord, spare me the physical pain; I can handle the spiritual pain."
10. Search for anything good about the experience of the pain. Sometimes, if the pain is throbbing, it will begin to follow a pattern. Just the pattern of the pain can make it a little more bearable. That it is somehow organized and that expectations can form around it make it itself somehow more manageable. Like a terrible music.
11. Go for walks.
12. I think of this now, wishing I had thought of it before: Get Krunk.
13. At some point, I think the brain starts trying things out itself. It loosens some connections. It simulates getting krunk. You can't reason the same: memories blend, priorities fade, you fail to grasp exactly what's going on. The brain just unplugs a few gizmos here and there to save the whole system, hoping the renegade bit will sort itself out. Cuts the engines and sends power to shields or whatever. This is where you lose it a bit. Categories and objects begins to blur in such a way that the pain has no constant, discernible background to stand out against. All that exists is the pain, but you don't recognize it as pain. It just is what you're doing. It is what is going on. It's the environment. Everything else jars against it, rather than the other way around. Just having to interact in the world hurts, while the pain establishes itself as the steady norm to which you want to return undisturbed.
14. Oh yeah, your face swells up like a balloon.
15. You call your mom. She tells you, in her all-knowing way, cool as cucumber way, what to do and how to do it. She doesn't whimper or pamper you. She just acts as efficiently and directly as possible to get you out of that pain. To fix you. I love you, mom.
Okay, so we've got 4 votes for keeping the blog as is, and 3 votes for changing it.
If we count Louis's vote as void as his better half suggests, it's a tie.
I think it would be cool if I could work out some basic programming for having a few different backgrounds which change at random whenever you refresh. that way, the old could still be appreciated, and maybe a few new spicy options.
I'll look into it.
If we count Louis's vote as void as his better half suggests, it's a tie.
I think it would be cool if I could work out some basic programming for having a few different backgrounds which change at random whenever you refresh. that way, the old could still be appreciated, and maybe a few new spicy options.
I'll look into it.
another dream.
While we're on the topic of dreams, here's this.
I wrote this like a month ago.
I dreamt about Tara the other night. She lived in a house in Canada, in the wilderness, alone. She was a painter. She asked me to live with her there and I said that yes, I would. We were having fun, enjoying each other, joking around. I saw a buffalo outside and was amazed, shocked by its size. I cried out, "Look at that buffalo!" and she smiled, entertained by my enthusiasm, enjoying and remembering what I was like, and said, "yeah". During all of this I had this understanding that she was going to kill herself soon, but I didn't want to mention it. I'm not sure why I didn't want to mention it. Maybe I doubted it, and didn't want to risk reminding her of it, like maybe she would forget to do it. I just wanted her to be happy and to protect her from that happening. She killed herself in my dream but I didn't see it--I just knew it was happening as it happened, but I was looking at something else, and I woke up. Almost immediately after I woke up, I got out of bed and stood up and got ready. For some reason this seemed the strangest part to me--my immediately rising up from bed.
I wrote this like a month ago.
I dreamt about Tara the other night. She lived in a house in Canada, in the wilderness, alone. She was a painter. She asked me to live with her there and I said that yes, I would. We were having fun, enjoying each other, joking around. I saw a buffalo outside and was amazed, shocked by its size. I cried out, "Look at that buffalo!" and she smiled, entertained by my enthusiasm, enjoying and remembering what I was like, and said, "yeah". During all of this I had this understanding that she was going to kill herself soon, but I didn't want to mention it. I'm not sure why I didn't want to mention it. Maybe I doubted it, and didn't want to risk reminding her of it, like maybe she would forget to do it. I just wanted her to be happy and to protect her from that happening. She killed herself in my dream but I didn't see it--I just knew it was happening as it happened, but I was looking at something else, and I woke up. Almost immediately after I woke up, I got out of bed and stood up and got ready. For some reason this seemed the strangest part to me--my immediately rising up from bed.
A dream.
I had a dream last night that I went through a life-or-death maze with a woman I knew would eventually become a witch. I wondered at what point in the maze it would happen. She helped me through the maze by spending a long time translating clues from some ancient, probably demonic, language.
At one point in the maze there was a tattoo parlor, where I felt obligated to get some piecing. At first they wanted to pierce that part of tissue just below my lower lip and above my chin, right in the middle. Soul patch pierce, or whatever. But I thought that would be too painful, and thought it might look dumb. So then they pierced my ankles. I thought that was so cool. When I woke up I genuinely persisted for a few moments in the belief that I had ankle piercings.
At one point in the maze there was a tattoo parlor, where I felt obligated to get some piecing. At first they wanted to pierce that part of tissue just below my lower lip and above my chin, right in the middle. Soul patch pierce, or whatever. But I thought that would be too painful, and thought it might look dumb. So then they pierced my ankles. I thought that was so cool. When I woke up I genuinely persisted for a few moments in the belief that I had ankle piercings.
12.29.2010
Dept. Of Eagles - In Ear Park
Here's something to listen to while you read. This video is older, but I like it. I like that at the end ghosts only come out of some people. MAKES YOU THINK, HUH.
Two days ago was excruciating.
Probably the most pain my face has faced.
Yesterday my face looked like a volleyball.
Or, like I had been bitten by a radioactive volleyball, and was turning into one.
VolleyballMan.
Another interpretation of my face involves a comparison to Marlon Brando.
From that scene: "I coulda been a contenda!"
Today it looks like I'm playing that chubby bunny game.
The one where you stuff your face with marshmallows.
Tomorrow's forecast:
Gaunt and Lithe, like the ladies like it.
It took them a minute to pull my tooth.
Like, 60 seconds. Pullo Whammo.
I will write more about pain, and toothaches later. THERE MAY BE INSIGHTS.
Probably the most pain my face has faced.
Yesterday my face looked like a volleyball.
Or, like I had been bitten by a radioactive volleyball, and was turning into one.
VolleyballMan.
Another interpretation of my face involves a comparison to Marlon Brando.
From that scene: "I coulda been a contenda!"
Today it looks like I'm playing that chubby bunny game.
The one where you stuff your face with marshmallows.
Tomorrow's forecast:
Gaunt and Lithe, like the ladies like it.
It took them a minute to pull my tooth.
Like, 60 seconds. Pullo Whammo.
I will write more about pain, and toothaches later. THERE MAY BE INSIGHTS.
12.27.2010
The Long and The Short.
The longer a Sufjan song, the better you know it's gonna be.
This reminds me of years ago, when Tara told me that I should write novels instead of short stories. This sticks out to me because her reason was that it took a certain skill that I didn't have to write short stories. I don't think she elaborated much at all. But she clearly communicated that it took a special skill to write short stories, and she thought as plain matter of fact that I did not have that skill. I wish I could ask her about it now. I wonder if she thought I would succumb too easily to gimmicks. I bet it was something more fundamental than that. I never read her stories while she was alive, but her mother sent me a book of them a couple months ago. They were mysterious. I liked them a lot, but a couple of them made me queasy: one made me so queasy I skipped a part. Some made me laugh, almost aghast. Some were about me.
I think it's great that her advice wasn't based on some sense she had that I'd be good at long fiction but on some knowledge that I was incapable of good short fiction.
When it comes to a particular use of literature, I trust Tara wholly. But she and I disagreed about what literature was (or, as I would argue, could be) for. Those arguments were nice. We were both so invested!
This reminds me of years ago, when Tara told me that I should write novels instead of short stories. This sticks out to me because her reason was that it took a certain skill that I didn't have to write short stories. I don't think she elaborated much at all. But she clearly communicated that it took a special skill to write short stories, and she thought as plain matter of fact that I did not have that skill. I wish I could ask her about it now. I wonder if she thought I would succumb too easily to gimmicks. I bet it was something more fundamental than that. I never read her stories while she was alive, but her mother sent me a book of them a couple months ago. They were mysterious. I liked them a lot, but a couple of them made me queasy: one made me so queasy I skipped a part. Some made me laugh, almost aghast. Some were about me.
I think it's great that her advice wasn't based on some sense she had that I'd be good at long fiction but on some knowledge that I was incapable of good short fiction.
When it comes to a particular use of literature, I trust Tara wholly. But she and I disagreed about what literature was (or, as I would argue, could be) for. Those arguments were nice. We were both so invested!
Listening to Sufjan some more.
The three songs I first listened to off of Sufjan's new album, which I disliked then, I dislike now. I was justified, but mistaken, for taking these as representative of the whole album.
I think in the future Sufjan should just make one-song albums. One 60 minute song sprawling through different bits, but tying all together. It needs to be a whole narrative. Sufjan is best when he is creating worlds.
Did I write 60? I meant, like, 400.
The three songs I first listened to off of Sufjan's new album, which I disliked then, I dislike now. I was justified, but mistaken, for taking these as representative of the whole album.
I think in the future Sufjan should just make one-song albums. One 60 minute song sprawling through different bits, but tying all together. It needs to be a whole narrative. Sufjan is best when he is creating worlds.
Did I write 60? I meant, like, 400.
12.26.2010
Yes We Can.
I write this on Brianna's computer.
1. The feel of her keyboard is more pleasant than that on my computer.
2. She tells me that "everyone" hates (or dislikes, or something) my blog's colors/layout/background. Background particularly. Reminds me of when Amy complained "why's it so pink and horsey?" So, ok. Let's hear it: who dislikes this thing, and who wants a change? The following changes are up for grabs.
a. The colors
b. The zebras (THEY ARE ZEBRAS)
c. The title
d. The content
e. The author
f. The medium
g. Other Things suggested
This doesn't mean I'm going to go all changy just because everybody hates it. I'm not Louis, here. But I'm willing to be. Basically, I guess it could use a change, maybe. Dunno. I like the zebras, but I might have some kind of aesthetic blindness in this case. I'm open to feedback. Feed it on back to me, folks.
1. The feel of her keyboard is more pleasant than that on my computer.
2. She tells me that "everyone" hates (or dislikes, or something) my blog's colors/layout/background. Background particularly. Reminds me of when Amy complained "why's it so pink and horsey?" So, ok. Let's hear it: who dislikes this thing, and who wants a change? The following changes are up for grabs.
a. The colors
b. The zebras (THEY ARE ZEBRAS)
c. The title
d. The content
e. The author
f. The medium
g. Other Things suggested
This doesn't mean I'm going to go all changy just because everybody hates it. I'm not Louis, here. But I'm willing to be. Basically, I guess it could use a change, maybe. Dunno. I like the zebras, but I might have some kind of aesthetic blindness in this case. I'm open to feedback. Feed it on back to me, folks.
12.25.2010
12.24.2010
I ate half a cutie.
JEFF STOLE THE OTHER HALF.
I THREATENED HIM AND HE TOOK IT ANYWAY.
Empty threats.
Now we're both blasting our music at each other. Really, I only hear mine, but I can feel his there. Blasting. Within earshot.
In other news, I keep wanting to use the word "modulo", thinking it means one thing, but dubious about what I think. I thought it meant one thing, and now I'm not sure. I haven't looked it up though. I might. May. Maybe. Mightbe.
JEFF STOLE THE OTHER HALF.
I THREATENED HIM AND HE TOOK IT ANYWAY.
Empty threats.
Now we're both blasting our music at each other. Really, I only hear mine, but I can feel his there. Blasting. Within earshot.
In other news, I keep wanting to use the word "modulo", thinking it means one thing, but dubious about what I think. I thought it meant one thing, and now I'm not sure. I haven't looked it up though. I might. May. Maybe. Mightbe.
Huddle up.
Steam has been lost. I may just be hungry.
Here's what I'm gonna do.
I'm going to eat some food, then I'm going to find some pins and finish my present-wrapping, and I'm going to clean my room. Then, I might read a book, or I might play the guitar, or I might do sit-ups. Possibilities, man.
Then, it will probably be time to get dressed and go to Christmas Eve service at my parents' church.
During all of this, if I think of blog posts I will (a) write them down on a piece of paper OR, if I am near a computer (b) write them for realsies.
I don't think it's ruining my life having a blog. It's kinda fun.
Also, it's optional and I am fickle about it.
During all of this, I will also joke around with my family.
Joking isn't ruining my life either. It, too, is optional and I am fickle about it.
I will probably dance as I do this stuff too. I've just got a wigglebug in me, and I can't shake him!
Here's what I'm gonna do.
I'm going to eat some food, then I'm going to find some pins and finish my present-wrapping, and I'm going to clean my room. Then, I might read a book, or I might play the guitar, or I might do sit-ups. Possibilities, man.
Then, it will probably be time to get dressed and go to Christmas Eve service at my parents' church.
During all of this, if I think of blog posts I will (a) write them down on a piece of paper OR, if I am near a computer (b) write them for realsies.
I don't think it's ruining my life having a blog. It's kinda fun.
Also, it's optional and I am fickle about it.
During all of this, I will also joke around with my family.
Joking isn't ruining my life either. It, too, is optional and I am fickle about it.
I will probably dance as I do this stuff too. I've just got a wigglebug in me, and I can't shake him!
Note to the Reader on Schizoblogia
I recommend that, below, you read "1 of 2: Schizoblogia" before you read "2 of 2" (and, SPOILER ALERT: "3 of 2").
It will be more fun (funny) for you, hun (hunny (bunny)).
It will be more fun (funny) for you, hun (hunny (bunny)).
3 of 2: Schizoblogia
This is really the last sentence of the schizo-blog--and it raises the problem blog identity-conditions both by its existence and by explicitly mentioning it (How's it work!?)--and it prolongs itself artificially with dashes (!)--I am capable of only making one kind of joke!
pee pee!
pee pee!
2 of 2: Schizoblogia
I write one sentence in the previous blog, and then another in this one. But not really. The idea was almost inevitable. So, as I was writing something on one open blog and then switching to something on another, even though I was crafting several texts which encode self-contained thought-processes, it felt, somehow, like one big, disconnected blog. If blog posts were women, my blog posts would be my kind of woman! I hate jokes like that. But who am I kidding; Louis's the only person reading this anyway! This one is more fun that the other one. (Obviously I am going to exploit the context-sensitivity of demonstratives in a situation like this! Also, punctuation jokes. This gag can only sustain so much.
1 of 2: Schizoblogia
I am writing this blog at the same time as I right the next blog. The two sort of constitute one blog. I decided I would do this because I had several tabs open in this window anyway, one tab for each blog-in-progress. I mean, the procession of my thoughts is a continuous thing, even if it "jumps" from topic to topic. It doesn't help, too, that my blog posts tend to be flighty, discursive, easily distracted, but still somehow, taken as a whole, clever and fun. If wishes were horses, beggars would have bizarre propositional attitudes! I realize now I should have numbered these sentences to make reading both posts simultaneously an easier affair. Only just now have I gone back over each each to see what the experience is like. That's what she said. You know me!) Ok, I think I've had enough.
Balla, Holla.
I am a skinny young man. But sometimes, after I eat, I have a little gut. I can grab my gut. Jiggle it.
I imagined myself as a middle-aged man. Scrawny with a gut. Maybe balding a little. Pathetic to behold.
I imagined myself as a middle-aged man, starting to play pick-up basketball games.
But because I haven't been doing this all along, I am like, really bad. I sweat a lot. Not fast. Don't know the moves.
But I would give it my all. Can you imagine me as a middle-aged man so-described? Someone calling a foul: "Charging!"
And I would be like, huffing and puffing, and ask, "What's that mean, again?"
My gut would bounce, but wouldn't go away.
I would be quietly ridiculed by the basketball players. But would kinda think that it's funny, and so be ok.
It's nice to think of myself so-described, trying my hardest, and one time juking this young guy and making a shot.
Glowing because of this. Glowing forevermore.
Imagine my natty hair in the sun. My laughing at some dumb "trash talk".
I imagined myself as a middle-aged man. Scrawny with a gut. Maybe balding a little. Pathetic to behold.
I imagined myself as a middle-aged man, starting to play pick-up basketball games.
But because I haven't been doing this all along, I am like, really bad. I sweat a lot. Not fast. Don't know the moves.
But I would give it my all. Can you imagine me as a middle-aged man so-described? Someone calling a foul: "Charging!"
And I would be like, huffing and puffing, and ask, "What's that mean, again?"
My gut would bounce, but wouldn't go away.
I would be quietly ridiculed by the basketball players. But would kinda think that it's funny, and so be ok.
It's nice to think of myself so-described, trying my hardest, and one time juking this young guy and making a shot.
Glowing because of this. Glowing forevermore.
Imagine my natty hair in the sun. My laughing at some dumb "trash talk".
Oh yeah: Book Lists.
Chris suggested I post a blog of book lists.
The lists shall be as follows: Philosophy Books I Think You Should Read (this is what Chris suggested), and Philosophy Books I'm Reading Over Break, and Non-Philosophy Books I Think You Should Read, and Non-Philosophy Books I'm Reading Over Break.
List #1 is what I think somebody-who-is-getting-into-philosophy-but-doesn't-really-know-what-to-read should give a try! I should say that I am not really well read enough to have a good list of this kind. But Chris asked, and he's a friend, so I'll do it. I of course avoid anthologies, which are always helpful but are boring to list. Chris told me he has read The Republic and some other foundational books. So I will focus on books that might be good if one were interested in engaging with contemporary philosophical literature (or, the contemporary stuff I like!).
Philosophy Books I Think You (Chris Thielen!) Should Read
1. An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding - Hume
2. Naming and Necessity - Kripke
3. Word and Object - Quine
4. Introduction to Mathematical Philosophy - Russell
I was going to add more, but then I couldn't think of any I thought would be good. Really, I'm starting to get into epistemology more, but I haven't read any good books on it, so I have nothing to give you (Platinga? Hawthorne? I'm going to be doing a lot of catch-up reading in this area, myself!). I can tell you that Kripke and Quine are influential and have set a lot of debates. And I like them both a lot. They disagree on stuff a lot, too, so it would be good to read both. I agree with almost everything Kripke says and absolutely love the way Quine articulates everything he says.
I haven't read Chalmers's The Conscious Mind but intend to. I hear it's the bees knees of philosophy of mind. Don't read Dennett any time soon, but eventually read something by him.
I don't know about ethics. Ayn Rand? lol XD
Philosophy Books I'm Reading (Or Trying to Read) Over Break
1. Naming & Necessity - Kripke (re-reading)
2. Knowledge & Its Limits - Williamson
3. Convention - Lewis
4. Thought, Language, & Other Biological Categories - Millikan
5. Relativism & Monadic Truth - Cappelen and Hawthorne
I think that's it. Really, the things I'd really like to have read by next semester are the Millikan and the Lewis. They both give very different accounts of convention, but I think both programs could be useful in arguing for the reality of public language (which I am interested in considering the feasibility of; I am not yet convinced). Millikan has work which explicitly tries to tie her work on convention to defending the existence of public language. I want to consider the field and weigh some options. I don't want to fall into an entirely idiolect-based Chomskese without considering the alternatives. I think fundamental questions like these [What are/is languages/language?] should inform the nitty gritty work done on particular phenomena to be accounted for in the philosophy of language.
I'll make the Non-Philosophy Lists its own post.
The lists shall be as follows: Philosophy Books I Think You Should Read (this is what Chris suggested), and Philosophy Books I'm Reading Over Break, and Non-Philosophy Books I Think You Should Read, and Non-Philosophy Books I'm Reading Over Break.
List #1 is what I think somebody-who-is-getting-into-philosophy-but-doesn't-really-know-what-to-read should give a try! I should say that I am not really well read enough to have a good list of this kind. But Chris asked, and he's a friend, so I'll do it. I of course avoid anthologies, which are always helpful but are boring to list. Chris told me he has read The Republic and some other foundational books. So I will focus on books that might be good if one were interested in engaging with contemporary philosophical literature (or, the contemporary stuff I like!).
Philosophy Books I Think You (Chris Thielen!) Should Read
1. An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding - Hume
2. Naming and Necessity - Kripke
3. Word and Object - Quine
4. Introduction to Mathematical Philosophy - Russell
I was going to add more, but then I couldn't think of any I thought would be good. Really, I'm starting to get into epistemology more, but I haven't read any good books on it, so I have nothing to give you (Platinga? Hawthorne? I'm going to be doing a lot of catch-up reading in this area, myself!). I can tell you that Kripke and Quine are influential and have set a lot of debates. And I like them both a lot. They disagree on stuff a lot, too, so it would be good to read both. I agree with almost everything Kripke says and absolutely love the way Quine articulates everything he says.
I haven't read Chalmers's The Conscious Mind but intend to. I hear it's the bees knees of philosophy of mind. Don't read Dennett any time soon, but eventually read something by him.
I don't know about ethics. Ayn Rand? lol XD
Philosophy Books I'm Reading (Or Trying to Read) Over Break
1. Naming & Necessity - Kripke (re-reading)
2. Knowledge & Its Limits - Williamson
3. Convention - Lewis
4. Thought, Language, & Other Biological Categories - Millikan
5. Relativism & Monadic Truth - Cappelen and Hawthorne
I think that's it. Really, the things I'd really like to have read by next semester are the Millikan and the Lewis. They both give very different accounts of convention, but I think both programs could be useful in arguing for the reality of public language (which I am interested in considering the feasibility of; I am not yet convinced). Millikan has work which explicitly tries to tie her work on convention to defending the existence of public language. I want to consider the field and weigh some options. I don't want to fall into an entirely idiolect-based Chomskese without considering the alternatives. I think fundamental questions like these [What are/is languages/language?] should inform the nitty gritty work done on particular phenomena to be accounted for in the philosophy of language.
I'll make the Non-Philosophy Lists its own post.
Cat-Killers.
I have realized that in the past three days I have looked up and researched, in semi-sincerity:
Enneagrams
Tarot Cards
Zodiac Stuff
Meditation
Chakra stuff.
Who am I?
I tried opening my root chakra, but it's placement just made me uncomfortable like a 13-year old boy. And giggle. I giggled lots. I'm too immature to meditate.
I'm also reading a book about decision theory and game theory, if that puts you at ease. It probably doesn't.
I'm kinda sweaty, and kinda like it. I tried explaining to my mom that being like 1 day out from bad B.O. is strangely-pleasant B.O. I like the way bodies smell! Sue me!
Though, stinky feet are lose-lose. Nothing good about stinky feet.
What else could I look up to continue this trend? Crystals? Auras? What else is there?
Enneagrams
Tarot Cards
Zodiac Stuff
Meditation
Chakra stuff.
Who am I?
I tried opening my root chakra, but it's placement just made me uncomfortable like a 13-year old boy. And giggle. I giggled lots. I'm too immature to meditate.
I'm also reading a book about decision theory and game theory, if that puts you at ease. It probably doesn't.
I'm kinda sweaty, and kinda like it. I tried explaining to my mom that being like 1 day out from bad B.O. is strangely-pleasant B.O. I like the way bodies smell! Sue me!
Though, stinky feet are lose-lose. Nothing good about stinky feet.
What else could I look up to continue this trend? Crystals? Auras? What else is there?
The Shifting Building that is my Priorities.
I'm kinda into dancing more than I was. It's just wackily fun. I've always liked it, but I think I have recently been enjoying "priority" "shifts". Dancing is sky-rocketing towards the top. Or, it's launched into some valhalla of priorities I have hovering together oligarchically at the top of my priority-tower. The top is good. The bottom is not constituted by "foundational" priorities. Just things that aren't priorities. 
Not much of a tower, maybe. I don't know. For a while I was imagining it as shaped like Bespin, my priority-tower. But now I'm not sure. Because in this analogy, all things in existence should constitute a brick somewhere in my priority tower, and I surely put most things towards the bottom. So, it's more like a parking lot, with a totem pole in the middle. Or something. One base level of could-not-possibly-care-less-stuff, then a little pyramid. Who knows. Analogies. They'll sneak up on you! Maybe we could tweak the analogy a little. Only the things that are priorities are bricks in my priority tower. This avoids the parking lot and maintains the tower image. More on this later. Towers can sneak up on you!
Makes you think of this phenomenon differently, huh?:
HAHAHAHAHA I am laughing hard at that video. It is funny on--wait for it--so many levels.
Not much of a tower, maybe. I don't know. For a while I was imagining it as shaped like Bespin, my priority-tower. But now I'm not sure. Because in this analogy, all things in existence should constitute a brick somewhere in my priority tower, and I surely put most things towards the bottom. So, it's more like a parking lot, with a totem pole in the middle. Or something. One base level of could-not-possibly-care-less-stuff, then a little pyramid. Who knows. Analogies. They'll sneak up on you! Maybe we could tweak the analogy a little. Only the things that are priorities are bricks in my priority tower. This avoids the parking lot and maintains the tower image. More on this later. Towers can sneak up on you!Makes you think of this phenomenon differently, huh?:
HAHAHAHAHA I am laughing hard at that video. It is funny on--wait for it--so many levels.
In the Path of my Judgment.
I remember now. The "judgy" thing reminded me.
I sometimes seem very not opinionated, but I am the opposite of that. It's just that I have meta-opinions, too. I have firm opinions about issues about which I am not competent to have opinions and so don't.
But when I think stuff, I can run the risk of being domineering. If I "care".
Thing is, I have opinions about what constitutes making an argument worth my time. If somebody is smart, and I disagree with them, it's worth it. If somebody is flippantly/fatuously cocky/smug etc., and they are knocking something/someone which I perceive as being too scared/weak/unsure to fend for itself, it's worth it. When somebody is dismissive of something I think is the cats pa-freaking-jamas, it's worth it.
But sometimes, I change. My opinion is overturned. Sometimes, they are overturned by me.
I just had that.
I was daydreaming, listening to indie dance music, judging it for not being indie pop. Daydreaming about tattoos. I used to be categorically against tattoos and in a judgy domineering way. But I've got an argument against that guy. It just makes me sad somebody else didn't push back with it sooner. It's nice to have people fight you out of a position. I think my past self would have moves to make too, but it would be a fun, dynamic argument were he here, and were we to grit our teeth and smirk and finger-wag and shout in disagreement.
I sometimes seem very not opinionated, but I am the opposite of that. It's just that I have meta-opinions, too. I have firm opinions about issues about which I am not competent to have opinions and so don't.
But when I think stuff, I can run the risk of being domineering. If I "care".
Thing is, I have opinions about what constitutes making an argument worth my time. If somebody is smart, and I disagree with them, it's worth it. If somebody is flippantly/fatuously cocky/smug etc., and they are knocking something/someone which I perceive as being too scared/weak/unsure to fend for itself, it's worth it. When somebody is dismissive of something I think is the cats pa-freaking-jamas, it's worth it.
But sometimes, I change. My opinion is overturned. Sometimes, they are overturned by me.
I just had that.
I was daydreaming, listening to indie dance music, judging it for not being indie pop. Daydreaming about tattoos. I used to be categorically against tattoos and in a judgy domineering way. But I've got an argument against that guy. It just makes me sad somebody else didn't push back with it sooner. It's nice to have people fight you out of a position. I think my past self would have moves to make too, but it would be a fun, dynamic argument were he here, and were we to grit our teeth and smirk and finger-wag and shout in disagreement.
Punchy/Inane
I am daydreaming and listening to indie dance, judging it for not being indie pop. This is me.
My parents bought an electronic coffee machine. It's not as good as french press coffee, but you can make lots.
I think the physical volume I have brought with me of Lydia Davis's collected stories is the prettiest paperback I own. I honestly like looking at it more than I like reading it. This has happened.
What was I thinking about?
I started writing this with a blog-thought in mind.
Blog-thoughts are like thoughts. But they are punchy and inane and turn into blogs.
WHAT WAS THAT THOUGHT.
CAPS LOCK.
It will come. I will build it, and it will come. It.
My parents bought an electronic coffee machine. It's not as good as french press coffee, but you can make lots.
I think the physical volume I have brought with me of Lydia Davis's collected stories is the prettiest paperback I own. I honestly like looking at it more than I like reading it. This has happened.
What was I thinking about?
I started writing this with a blog-thought in mind.
Blog-thoughts are like thoughts. But they are punchy and inane and turn into blogs.
WHAT WAS THAT THOUGHT.
CAPS LOCK.
It will come. I will build it, and it will come. It.
12.23.2010
4 minutes.
Having Googled "what takes four minutes" I have found that starting up many programs on one's computer can take four minutes, and that math word problems are happy to stipulate that things like filling up the sink or eating eight carrots takes four minutes. But this does not help the search for fun ways to mark four minutes.
It's strange, but I think when I am aware of time limit (as I am now) I undergo this physical sensation of being heavier. Particularly, I think my face feels heavier.
Oh wait, that's all the 4 Loko I just downed. My bad.
Do you not enjoy this blog post because you think it doesn't come from the heart? Would you prefer if I wrote from pure aristocratic leisure, under no guns, just from a unadulterated love of creation and idling speculation? Would you prefer it if I spoke about the world, my beliefs, Things Of Importance, rather than just write blogs about writing blogs and strategies for writing blogs? Do you think these are genuine questions, or do you think they are rhetorical, or do you think both, or neither, or both and neither? Think ye I could easily go on? Can you make yourself read this sentence as a question even though it doesn't have a question mark. What about this one. Or the next one, which won't start with a questiony word. I look attractive today but I didn't yesterday.
It's strange, but I think when I am aware of time limit (as I am now) I undergo this physical sensation of being heavier. Particularly, I think my face feels heavier.
Oh wait, that's all the 4 Loko I just downed. My bad.
Do you not enjoy this blog post because you think it doesn't come from the heart? Would you prefer if I wrote from pure aristocratic leisure, under no guns, just from a unadulterated love of creation and idling speculation? Would you prefer it if I spoke about the world, my beliefs, Things Of Importance, rather than just write blogs about writing blogs and strategies for writing blogs? Do you think these are genuine questions, or do you think they are rhetorical, or do you think both, or neither, or both and neither? Think ye I could easily go on? Can you make yourself read this sentence as a question even though it doesn't have a question mark. What about this one. Or the next one, which won't start with a questiony word. I look attractive today but I didn't yesterday.
One strategy: Keeping tempo with music.
One fun way that I could successfully write a blog post every 4 minutes until my birthday, would be for me to collect all the 4 minute songs from my itunes, and write a blog for each song. Lets see how many blogs that would knock out.
If I count all songs in my itunes of a length between 3:45 and 4:15, then I have 1720 songs. One post per song gives me 1720 posts. (Some math problems are easy.)
Now, being reasonable, I'd probably skip some songs, because there is music on my itunes I'm not crazy about.
Now, this strategy wouldn't require me to write about the songs. It is just one of many ways to keep time.
That reminds me that in college I kept a document on my computer for a while which was of creative writing blips, each of which was "inspired" by the song I was listening to as I wrote it. I would construct playlists, and then have to write some coherent, self-contained bit of literary prose, which had to be somehow someway related to the song I listened to. So, yeah. This idea isn't original with me, but rather, with past me. Which reminds me of a joke Ben told me. "Ted Sider walks into a bar. Another guy has a drink. Another leaves." Ho ho ho.
If the next 8000 blog posts are of this quality I will surely lose my readership.
If I count all songs in my itunes of a length between 3:45 and 4:15, then I have 1720 songs. One post per song gives me 1720 posts. (Some math problems are easy.)
Now, being reasonable, I'd probably skip some songs, because there is music on my itunes I'm not crazy about.
Now, this strategy wouldn't require me to write about the songs. It is just one of many ways to keep time.
That reminds me that in college I kept a document on my computer for a while which was of creative writing blips, each of which was "inspired" by the song I was listening to as I wrote it. I would construct playlists, and then have to write some coherent, self-contained bit of literary prose, which had to be somehow someway related to the song I listened to. So, yeah. This idea isn't original with me, but rather, with past me. Which reminds me of a joke Ben told me. "Ted Sider walks into a bar. Another guy has a drink. Another leaves." Ho ho ho.
If the next 8000 blog posts are of this quality I will surely lose my readership.
COUNTDOWN.
I think I should mention that I have secretly been a part of NaNoBloPoLi. "Wait" you might say. "I thought it ended in MO". Not as in Montana. Really, I am part of secret and arbitrary group which commits to write a blog post every day for their entire lives. So, yes. I'm behind.
I turn 25 on January 30. Lets calculate.
I will have lived through 6 leap years and 19 non-leap years.
(6*366)+(19*365)=9131
9131 DAYS HAVE I TROD THIS LEAVENED SOIL.
Currently, including this post, I have 347 blog posts published here.
8784 POSTS TO GO!
33 days until my birthday.
So, if I'm to complete my task by my birthday, I will need to blog
8784/33 posts a day.
Rounding down, that's 266 posts a day.
Assuming I am awake 16 hours a day, that's (rounding down) 16 posts an hour.
Like, one blog every 3 3/4 minutes.
I turn 25 on January 30. Lets calculate.
I will have lived through 6 leap years and 19 non-leap years.
(6*366)+(19*365)=9131
9131 DAYS HAVE I TROD THIS LEAVENED SOIL.
Currently, including this post, I have 347 blog posts published here.
8784 POSTS TO GO!
33 days until my birthday.
So, if I'm to complete my task by my birthday, I will need to blog
8784/33 posts a day.
Rounding down, that's 266 posts a day.
Assuming I am awake 16 hours a day, that's (rounding down) 16 posts an hour.
Like, one blog every 3 3/4 minutes.
12.21.2010
Living the Dream and Driving the Leam.
I'm back in the Swingrover's living room. I can smell the Christmas tree, I am drinking Swingrover coffee, I am listening to indie dance music. Soon, I shall read books. Later I will mess around with Brianna's kiddos. Things are lookin up.
It's the first time that I have sort-of-wishes (not really wished) that I had a car. It would be nice to go back and forth between my family and friends more easily. I want to see everybody as much as possible.
Also: check out THIS GUY.
It's the first time that I have sort-of-wishes (not really wished) that I had a car. It would be nice to go back and forth between my family and friends more easily. I want to see everybody as much as possible.
Also: check out THIS GUY.
12.17.2010
The Complete Works.
I am done.
Wait, no I'm not.
Geez.
This semester has been weird for me.
It's weird to feel myself change.
It's weird to grow.
It's weird to form opinions.
It's weird to suffer emotionally.
It's weird to attend to my own struggling with discipline.
Language is weird and fascinating.
I have decided that I will write a thorough review of my life this semester and then post it here.
This is not that review.
This is me typing whatever pops into my head.
I will also post a set of lists of books, which is a blog post inspired/recommended by Chris Theilen, whose name I hope I have not here misspelled.
It's weird feeling like I know so so so little.
This is not a poem.
But now maybe it is.
Oh snap.
Poems, man.
They can sneak up on you.
Wait, no I'm not.
Geez.
This semester has been weird for me.
It's weird to feel myself change.
It's weird to grow.
It's weird to form opinions.
It's weird to suffer emotionally.
It's weird to attend to my own struggling with discipline.
Language is weird and fascinating.
I have decided that I will write a thorough review of my life this semester and then post it here.
This is not that review.
This is me typing whatever pops into my head.
I will also post a set of lists of books, which is a blog post inspired/recommended by Chris Theilen, whose name I hope I have not here misspelled.
It's weird feeling like I know so so so little.
This is not a poem.
But now maybe it is.
Oh snap.
Poems, man.
They can sneak up on you.
12.07.2010
12.05.2010
consider this blog backdated.
consider the month of december backdated. or frontdated. whichever.
today is december 1st in the calendar of jon.
i have a text file on my computer's desktop of like 10 different blog topics.
i am emotional right now, but you couldn't tell to look at me!
not too emotional, though.
just a little.
little waves of emotion cascading about my insides.
like in a gentle, but wavy, lake.
not the ocean against a bluff or anything.
the metaphor here is emotion as water. i don't fully understand it. there's some correlation between emotion and water though.
hmph. this was not one of my blog topics from the text file.
consider the month of december backdated. or frontdated. whichever.
today is december 1st in the calendar of jon.
i have a text file on my computer's desktop of like 10 different blog topics.
i am emotional right now, but you couldn't tell to look at me!
not too emotional, though.
just a little.
little waves of emotion cascading about my insides.
like in a gentle, but wavy, lake.
not the ocean against a bluff or anything.
the metaphor here is emotion as water. i don't fully understand it. there's some correlation between emotion and water though.
hmph. this was not one of my blog topics from the text file.
i'm writing a paper about semantics.
i agree with person A.
i disagree with person B.
A has an argument, X, against B's claim, Y.
at first, i thought X was wrong.
but now i think that A just totally misreads B.
i still agree with person A.
but now i think he can't read.
like, can you not read, A?
in at least two different places A flagrantly misreads B.
i can think of no excuse for A.
but i still think B is wrong, ultimately.
but i can't write a paper that argues just that A can't read.
clearly, A can read--he writs about semantics!
i agree with person A.
i disagree with person B.
A has an argument, X, against B's claim, Y.
at first, i thought X was wrong.
but now i think that A just totally misreads B.
i still agree with person A.
but now i think he can't read.
like, can you not read, A?
in at least two different places A flagrantly misreads B.
i can think of no excuse for A.
but i still think B is wrong, ultimately.
but i can't write a paper that argues just that A can't read.
clearly, A can read--he writs about semantics!
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