Last night, I luxuriated by way of time and language. I rarely find myself in a ménage of this sort. It's usually one or the other but not both. Well, what can I say. I'm in a splurging mood lately and there's nothing I can do about it.
I had the opportunity to take some quiet/unscheduled time lately. After that, however, big questions were born and what better way to discuss them then by talking with those who share your modus vivendi? So, last night one of my closest friends asked me the following, "Na, du, wie kennt man Einen?" Translated: "So, you, how does one get to know one?"
I don't have the answer to it. "I don't have the answer to it," I said. Come to think of it, i don't even wish to have the answer to it. The beauty of getting to know one lies in the process. That is the stuff of poetry. One of the lines that has stuck with me from all the literature I have ever read, - and that is a whole lot -, comes from Botho Strauss' play in two acts Die Fremdenfuehrerin i.e., The Tour Guide. In it, the main character says: "Ein zweiter Mensch erweckt neue Erwartungen" i.e., "A second person awakens new expectations."
Without expectations there can be no drive to renew one's self, to morph into something better, hopefully more developed. Without expectations there can be no passion, no drama, no, well, life. Expectations set things in motions and humans are meant to be in motion. Agito ergo sum, after all. We do/move, therefore, we are.
Back to my friend's question. I told him I didn't have any special insight. I think I added something like, "man kennt einen, wenn man sich selbst kennt. Oder nicht. Was weiss ich denn..." "One knows one when one knows one's self. Or not. What do I know..." After saying it I felt some measure of melancholy. Knowing one's self is tough. It is, in my view, one of the hardest pursuits. Those who think they know themselves well usually fail miserable at recognizing basic truths about them. Self-knowledge is nigh impossible. Which means, a knowledge of the other, actual knowledge of the other, is nigh impossible as well. It's not the knowing of one's self and the selves of the others that is important but rather the inclination to engage in a process of self-knowledge and knowledge of the other.
Knowing others is fundamentally predicated upon knowing one's self and one's 'self' i.e., our 'selves' are not like books standing on the shelf where they can be picked up at any time divorced from time and particular circumstance. Identity is not petrified, like the written word. It shifts, morphs into new things, progresses and regresses. It moves. To get it, to get to the core of one's 'self' one needs to consider any and all variables. And this, well, this is nigh impossible to do. However, it is in this very impossibility where beauty can be found. Not the kind of beauty that fades but rather the beauty about which one is compelled to give a damn. True substance.
Knowledge of the self and the self of the other changes as a result of circumstance as well.
I illustrate:
I used to hate pizza. As in "ewe, blah, double ewe, can't eat that crap"-type of thing. I have my ideas as to what informed my general disgust for this particular food. I reckon it has something to do with a period in my life when I didn't particularly care for Italian cuisine generally and pizza/pasta particularly. I like pizza now, though. Matter of fact, I just had it for dinner tonight. Coupled with hot chocolate. And cherries. Yeah. Yum! Put that in your pipe, Wolfgang Puck, and smoke it. I know why I'm cool with pizza now. I know why I'm cool with pizza in the company of hot chocolate and cherries. Given the same presentation a while back, I would have sneered, mocked, and resisted the urge to part ways with whatever dwelled in my stomach. But that's then and this is now.
Hard things beg for attention. Not-so-hard things are largely forgettable and I happen to think not worth one's consideration most of the time. There's bound to be a hierarchy of difficulty. After all, we're not all meant to be into John Donne. Some are into that kind of hermetic brilliance. Others, on the other hand, do just find with Harry Potter. There's something for everyone.
I have a knack for hard things. It's one of the few things I have come to truly get about my nature. What can I do about it? Nothing. I can embrace it and go with it. Sooner is always better than later. Resisting it would be like the day my friends and I were swimming in the river and I had the brilliant idea to try going against the current because, of course, the Napoleon inside me, thought s/he could just do it. Long story short, I ended up on the other shore, lost my left Havaiana and ruined my favorite swimsuit when wrestling with an unfortunate looking tree branch. I have yet to find a better suit. But I digress. The point is, we are who/how we are. At the core, we are who we are. We do not change. This sounds too much like a cliché. I can't be the first to have phrased it this way. Wait, it's making me think of someone. Duh, Charles Dickens and his Great Expectations. Still, though, it has value even though I get zero points for originality. I happen to concur with the point and that adds value to it. How's this for healthy self-esteem?!
So, after talking about sociality, my friend and I segued into an analysis of sociality. I made the point that an understanding of sociality can only be had when one truly invests in solitude. And investing in solitude is tough. Especially if one's inclination has little natural space for it.
I've gotten to be a bit more decent at alone time. I'd give myself a solid 6/10 as an adult. The reason why is quite simple. It's called learned behavior and focused practice. Gregariousness has always come easily to me. Others would most likely give me a 9/10. I would give myself a solid 8. But, just like it is the case with other traits that one comes equipped with genetically, I tend to often privilege things and traits that are not as easy. I don't know why this is. It's a trait I've long resigned myself to. If all roads lead to Rome, I tend to usually take the longer, more difficult one. I illustrate as a tip of the hat to my Italy-residing people. It's kind of like getting to Rome from Milan by driving your car - at least a stress-fueled 8-hour-period of your life marked by noise, odd lane-changing habits, and traffic that comes out of Dante's third circle of Hell - as opposed to flying from Fiumicino to Malpensa (a mere hour). In case I need to explain, I'd, most likely and almost unequivocally, prefer the former. Why? I don't know. We are who we are. We don't change.
So, how does one get to know one as per my friend's question? One stops being a coward and starts to get to know one's self as one truly is at dawn and not as one thinks one is at dusk. Dusk, albeit a favorite time for many, is a tricky little rascal. Dusk is like wine. It veils things. It doesn't let one see things in an unfettered and untarnished fashion. Nothing can reveal all freckles, blemishes, and corporeal changes the way dawn can. And in that space of time is where the others might be known too. At least to some degree and in some measure. Nothing and no one can be known fully. And in this very lack of omniscience lies the beauty of being human and foible.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Saturday, July 16, 2011
I Couldn't Like Emerson More
I've never had much respect for books I can read in one day. I don't know why that is. Wait, I do know why that it is. My high-frequency books are Dante's Divine Comedy, Shakespeare's Hamlet, and Botho Strauss' Die Fremdenfuehrerin. They're all complicated works that need careful attention and much consideration. If you can figure something out too quickly, then maybe you shouldn't have bothered with it all in the first place.
Right.
Having stated this, check out this jewel of a thought from Emerson regarding Jane Austen's work. Man, I love this guy! Boom, this is how you write about Jane Austen.
"I am at a loss to understand why people hold Miss Austen’s novels at so high a rate, which seem to me vulgar in tone, sterile in invention, imprisoned in the wretched conventions of English society, without genius, wit, or knowledge of the world. Never was life so pinched & narrow. The one problem in the mind of the writer in both the stories I have read, “Persuasion”, and “Pride & Prejudice”, is marriageableness; all that interests any character introduced is still this one, has he or she money to marry with, & conditions conforming? ‘Tis “the nympholepsy of a fond despair”, say rather, of an English boarding-house. Suicide is more respectable."
Right.
Having stated this, check out this jewel of a thought from Emerson regarding Jane Austen's work. Man, I love this guy! Boom, this is how you write about Jane Austen.
"I am at a loss to understand why people hold Miss Austen’s novels at so high a rate, which seem to me vulgar in tone, sterile in invention, imprisoned in the wretched conventions of English society, without genius, wit, or knowledge of the world. Never was life so pinched & narrow. The one problem in the mind of the writer in both the stories I have read, “Persuasion”, and “Pride & Prejudice”, is marriageableness; all that interests any character introduced is still this one, has he or she money to marry with, & conditions conforming? ‘Tis “the nympholepsy of a fond despair”, say rather, of an English boarding-house. Suicide is more respectable."
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Emerson Goodness
Was just reminded why I'm keen on Emerson. The following comes from his Notebooks (1841).
Tip of the hat to Tyler for the pointer.
"We are too civil to books. For a few golden sentences we will turn over & actually read a volume of 4 or 500 pages. Even the great books. “Come,” say they, “we will give you the key to the world” — Each poet each philosopher says this, & we expect to go like a thunderbolt to the centre, but the thunder is a superficial phenomenon, makes a skin-deep cut, and so does the Sage — whether Confucius, Menu, Zoroaster, Socrates; striking at right angles to the globe his force is instantly diffused laterally & enters not. The wedge turns out to be a rocket. I have found this to be the case with every book I have read & yet I take up a new writer with a sort of pulse beat of expectation.
Tip of the hat to Tyler for the pointer.
"We are too civil to books. For a few golden sentences we will turn over & actually read a volume of 4 or 500 pages. Even the great books. “Come,” say they, “we will give you the key to the world” — Each poet each philosopher says this, & we expect to go like a thunderbolt to the centre, but the thunder is a superficial phenomenon, makes a skin-deep cut, and so does the Sage — whether Confucius, Menu, Zoroaster, Socrates; striking at right angles to the globe his force is instantly diffused laterally & enters not. The wedge turns out to be a rocket. I have found this to be the case with every book I have read & yet I take up a new writer with a sort of pulse beat of expectation.
Identity Shmidentity
Every time I hear Polonius’s statement from Hamlet: Act 1 Scene 3 quoted, i.e.: “To thine own self be true” I unequivocally frown as a way of saying 'say what?!', without actually saying it. I do so because Polonius is usually quoted decontextually. Polonius, let’s be real, was pretty much an officious, sort-of hysterical, well, ok, imbecile. In nuce, he was a follower, at best, who lacked the ability to think for himself. Polonius was, metaphorically speaking, a little man, one who never saw his daughter, the much deeper Ophelia - who must have certainly taken after her mother - for what and who she was: cerebral, observing, and analytical.
But back to the often decontextually quoted “to thine own self be true” which, apropos, came up in a conversation I was a part of this evening with a couple of people. I did produce a "say what?!" by way of the face but that might have been because I didn't have dinner till later. Anyway.
Back to the topic at hand, i.e., identity. We can’t be the same in every situation and with everyone. Judith Butler generally maintains that we tend to ‘perform’ the many versions of ourselves situationally. The sum of our performances of identy(ies) make up our very social make-up. Granted, her identity notions as found in her seminal work Gender Trouble (1990) mostly applies to Gender Theory but the concept could still be applied more broadly.
I tend to think that a number of core traits are with us all the time. However, other things are added and subtracted. Certain traits get exacerbated and others get nigh muted depending on the context, time frame, and the influences we are exposed to. And, everyone is around influences. Nobody is immune to them. What was the adage again? Ah, yes, no man is an island. Right. No person is an island.
I had a thought tonight about another conversation I had with my best friend the other day. Every time we talk he inserts one of his usual, ‘Seriously, that would have been your idea of hell,’ or ‘that’s when you would have adios-ed the conversation.’ By way of context and making a point here, my best friend and I met as freshmen in college when taking a Linguistics course. We were both bored out of our minds in it. One day, the professor asked me an Italian-related question, I answered it and then after class he came to me speaking in flawless Italian. His mother is Swiss Italian, hence the proficiency.
In Phaedrus, Plato’s Socrates states that philosophy is: meletē thanatou. The phrase simply means — a diligent/educated practice of death. However what Plato means here, among other things, is that one of the ‘performances’ of philosophy is to helps humans better deal with their basic humanity. By extension, I would submit that philosophy/education or knowledge/information exist primarly to help us come to terms with the many versions of our fundamental humanity and why/how they actualize themselves they way they do.
My parents always say the following when we see one another during family events and vacations: “you’re the same you used to be.” And unequivocally I retort: “Who else would I be?!” Change, however, happens. It is bound to happen. And what counts is not what garrulous Polonius said i.e., “to thine own self be true,” but rather how the self can handle the many variables it encounters daily. The goal eventually is to stay afloat and not drown. The goal, as Plato’s Socrates points out in Phaedrus is to cope with mortality as well as one can. What else is there of more import, really? And if a version of self is not doing the job well enough, it can and should get laid off. There needs to be more where that, it, came from after all.
I’ve never been able to understand why anyone would take advice about life from Polonius of all people. It’s sort of like a priest going to Bill Maher with a Gospel of John question.
But back to the often decontextually quoted “to thine own self be true” which, apropos, came up in a conversation I was a part of this evening with a couple of people. I did produce a "say what?!" by way of the face but that might have been because I didn't have dinner till later. Anyway.
Back to the topic at hand, i.e., identity. We can’t be the same in every situation and with everyone. Judith Butler generally maintains that we tend to ‘perform’ the many versions of ourselves situationally. The sum of our performances of identy(ies) make up our very social make-up. Granted, her identity notions as found in her seminal work Gender Trouble (1990) mostly applies to Gender Theory but the concept could still be applied more broadly.
I tend to think that a number of core traits are with us all the time. However, other things are added and subtracted. Certain traits get exacerbated and others get nigh muted depending on the context, time frame, and the influences we are exposed to. And, everyone is around influences. Nobody is immune to them. What was the adage again? Ah, yes, no man is an island. Right. No person is an island.
I had a thought tonight about another conversation I had with my best friend the other day. Every time we talk he inserts one of his usual, ‘Seriously, that would have been your idea of hell,’ or ‘that’s when you would have adios-ed the conversation.’ By way of context and making a point here, my best friend and I met as freshmen in college when taking a Linguistics course. We were both bored out of our minds in it. One day, the professor asked me an Italian-related question, I answered it and then after class he came to me speaking in flawless Italian. His mother is Swiss Italian, hence the proficiency.
In Phaedrus, Plato’s Socrates states that philosophy is: meletē thanatou. The phrase simply means — a diligent/educated practice of death. However what Plato means here, among other things, is that one of the ‘performances’ of philosophy is to helps humans better deal with their basic humanity. By extension, I would submit that philosophy/education or knowledge/information exist primarly to help us come to terms with the many versions of our fundamental humanity and why/how they actualize themselves they way they do.
My parents always say the following when we see one another during family events and vacations: “you’re the same you used to be.” And unequivocally I retort: “Who else would I be?!” Change, however, happens. It is bound to happen. And what counts is not what garrulous Polonius said i.e., “to thine own self be true,” but rather how the self can handle the many variables it encounters daily. The goal eventually is to stay afloat and not drown. The goal, as Plato’s Socrates points out in Phaedrus is to cope with mortality as well as one can. What else is there of more import, really? And if a version of self is not doing the job well enough, it can and should get laid off. There needs to be more where that, it, came from after all.
I’ve never been able to understand why anyone would take advice about life from Polonius of all people. It’s sort of like a priest going to Bill Maher with a Gospel of John question.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Thinking Bits
There's a folder in one of the iPhoto libraries that reads 'Bri Thinking Photos.' I opened to look at it today and I saw one that matched the diurnal mood. This one. 
I usually use music and my writing as a way of keeping track of experiences and quotidianity be it memorable or forgettable. Luckily, there are the photos too.
There’s no better way to get a good snapshot of one’s existence that when faced with an expected unknown. What I find interesting about existence is just how clearly one can see certain things in situations that are primarily defined by certain events/experiences. It’s like having bionic vision for a spell and getting to the core truth of things quickly albeit for a little while.
I thought again today how much easier it would be if my medium of choice could be in the realm of movement. I live for movement and yet my mode of expression is writing. I need to be sedentary to do it and yet the best ideas I get come to me when I’m out and about, generally moving quickly, getting lost in some thought while getting to the next thing on the list.
“Where is she?”
“Out & about. Off to think or sth.”
I saw this on the iChat window the other morning. It made me chuckle. Mostly because it’s true.
My people get that. My concept of inferno, personal inferno, is utter lack of movement. Well, that and having to be in it in the company of disingenuity. Force me to be in a state of inactivity and I’ll start bargaining right away to get out of it. I’ll agree with Mephistopheles before he has a chance to reveal the terms of the pact. I’d be willing to recite whatever to get out of it. I guess that’s why I tolerate yoga. Even though I’m confined to the space of a mat, I’m to move while on it.
I had my wayfarer’s on today as I was returning home from a day away. To my right, I could see the quiet Pacific and the sun that was reflecting on it. My hair looked much blonder than it usually does indoors when not touched by the sun. I liked it. The iPod was playing some random track from either Lilly Allen or Kate Bush or, some such singer, they sound all the same to me. It didn’t matter what the iPod was playing which is testament to the actual value of the unique feeling the little moment in time contained.
It was the sort of feeling that tends to get generated when forced to be in the present fully. The feeling that corroborated your already researched and tested sense of self-reliance and why it matters. It always matters. Having faith in one’s self is key. All we have is that, really. Granted, relying on the ones who love you daily helps. But, let’s call things what they are. The reason, the main reason, why those who are big investors in self-reliance are loved well and consistently is because of their investments in self-reliance.
Words were uttered but they mostly served as instrumental soundtrack like an Ennio Mrricone album. They were placid but I have no idea what they were about. I suppose if it's important, I'll hear it again. Thing is, at times nothing should interfere with the poetic beauty of silence. Even music would be like adding salt & pepper to an Eric Ripert dish at La Bernardine.
There’s no better way to get a good snapshot of one’s existence that when faced with an expected unknown. What I find interesting about existence is just how clearly one can see certain things in situations that are primarily defined by certain events/experiences. It’s like having bionic vision for a spell and getting to the core truth of things quickly albeit for a little while.
I thought again today how much easier it would be if my medium of choice could be in the realm of movement. I live for movement and yet my mode of expression is writing. I need to be sedentary to do it and yet the best ideas I get come to me when I’m out and about, generally moving quickly, getting lost in some thought while getting to the next thing on the list.
“Where is she?”
“Out & about. Off to think or sth.”
I saw this on the iChat window the other morning. It made me chuckle. Mostly because it’s true.
My people get that. My concept of inferno, personal inferno, is utter lack of movement. Well, that and having to be in it in the company of disingenuity. Force me to be in a state of inactivity and I’ll start bargaining right away to get out of it. I’ll agree with Mephistopheles before he has a chance to reveal the terms of the pact. I’d be willing to recite whatever to get out of it. I guess that’s why I tolerate yoga. Even though I’m confined to the space of a mat, I’m to move while on it.
I had my wayfarer’s on today as I was returning home from a day away. To my right, I could see the quiet Pacific and the sun that was reflecting on it. My hair looked much blonder than it usually does indoors when not touched by the sun. I liked it. The iPod was playing some random track from either Lilly Allen or Kate Bush or, some such singer, they sound all the same to me. It didn’t matter what the iPod was playing which is testament to the actual value of the unique feeling the little moment in time contained.
It was the sort of feeling that tends to get generated when forced to be in the present fully. The feeling that corroborated your already researched and tested sense of self-reliance and why it matters. It always matters. Having faith in one’s self is key. All we have is that, really. Granted, relying on the ones who love you daily helps. But, let’s call things what they are. The reason, the main reason, why those who are big investors in self-reliance are loved well and consistently is because of their investments in self-reliance.
Words were uttered but they mostly served as instrumental soundtrack like an Ennio Mrricone album. They were placid but I have no idea what they were about. I suppose if it's important, I'll hear it again. Thing is, at times nothing should interfere with the poetic beauty of silence. Even music would be like adding salt & pepper to an Eric Ripert dish at La Bernardine.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Oh, Larry!
Larry does New York. Man, I cannot wait for this.
One of the reasons why I like Game of Thrones is that it is almost wholly divorced of preconceived notions of right and wrong as informed by Judeo-Christianity. It's a testament to human nature and how it functions when under all sorts of pressure be they political, familial, filial, and military in nature.
I like Game of Thrones because the truly good characters really know who they are and what they are all about. And the truly well-developed characters ooze much comfort in that knowledge. I like that a whole lot. As a viewer, I do like it a whole lot. As a scholar, I respect it.
Game of Thrones lives in the gray. It thrives in the gray. It doesn't seem to get hung up on definitions that supposedly reside in utterly black and/or utterly white poles. Life is messy, life is gray for the most part, and in the gray is where it, life, happens, in all of its gore and glory.
I have two favorite characters in this superbly executed series: Arya Stark - and by association Ned Stark - and Tyrion Lannister. Arya is the 'tomboy' daughter of Lord Stark. Lord Stark, Ned as he is called, has a strong core. He knows what he's about and he's comfortable with his core values. Ned claims to be a simple fighting man but he is far from 'simple.' First, he is a noble and few things spell 'simple' when nobility is involved, especially in pre-medieval Europe.
Ned is politically astute, a man of principle but also a man of reason. Ned has a number of children with Lady Catelyn, the most gripping of which is Arya. Arya despises sewing and typical activities of ladies. She couldn't care less for traditionally female roles and feels the most alive when playing outside with boys or learning how to use the sword. Lord Stark, sees Arya's nature and potential from the very beginning and in a kindness-informed fashion arranges for a sward-fighting tutor for her. She should be allowed to do what she chooses. And this is yet another reason to see him as a likable hero. Naturally, such tolerance is not ahistorical as examples of sword-loving females abound in pre-Christian myths. A quick example comes to mind, Brunhild from the Land of Ice as seen in the Song of the Nibelungs.
Another character I am absolutely taken by is Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion is marked as 'different.' As he puts is, he might as well be a bastard child as his father seems to reserve much resentment for him on account of him being the reason for his mother's premature death (she died at childbirth.) In addition, his 'mark' refers to him suffering from dwarfism. He is derogatorily referred to as the 'imp.' As he tells Jon Snow who is too young to use his own mark - i.e., that of being a bastard son to Ned Stark - to self-protect. Tyrion says to Jon with regards to his situation: “Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.” Words of wisdmon, Jon Snow. I'd take heed.
Tyrion's wisdom does not come purely out of suffering and experiential knowledge, however. Although, sadness seems to be inherent to him he also has an uncanny ability to read people well and fully. He reads voraciously, is highly learned, and, as a result, had access to all sorts of information and feedback which he is very quick to retrieve and use when he needs to.
Tyrion knows he is not loved. He knows this and he fully accepts it. See, acceptance is key here. Acceptance is what makes his truly great. He operates in reality and not in some idealism-tainted world where warm and fuzzy feelings abound. But he also knows his worth, or rather the worth of his family. "A Lannister always pays his debt", he is often heard saying. And that they do. Not only he, apparently, but all Lannisters. Tyrion is born into a wealthy family but of all of them he is the only one who has a shred of reality-informed kindness in him. The lack of kindness he's been exposed to his whole life as a result of his unfortunate condition is what seems to fuel his unique modus vivendi.
He uses his so-called vices and hedonism as a way of self-shielding. He knows he can rely on two things for survival: his father's coins and his own wisdom/talent for survival. He is rarely seen scheming and alliance-forging. He only tries to rely on others when his immediate life is in danger or when he's about to bestow an act of kindness on fellow 'marked' characters, like the newly paralized Bram, son of Lord Stark.
In sum, I like Game of Thrones for a number of reasons. I'm keen on it as a medievalist, no doubt. However, the reason why I am taken by it is that it portrays human nature for how it is: circumstance-informed, mostly denuded of idealism when reality is not forced into the shadows of the margins, and last but so definitely not least, self-mythologizing. Most exquisitely so.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Why I Approve of Game of Thrones
One of the reasons why I like Game of Thrones is that it is almost wholly divorced of preconceived notions of right and wrong as informed by Judeo-Christianity. It's a testament to human nature and how it functions when under all sorts of pressure be they political, familial, filial, and military in nature.
I like Game of Thrones because the truly good characters really know who they are and what they are all about. And the truly well-developed characters ooze much comfort in that knowledge. I like that a whole lot. As a viewer, I do like it a whole lot. As a scholar, I respect it.
Game of Thrones lives in the gray. It thrives in the gray. It doesn't seem to get hung up on definitions that supposedly reside in utterly black and/or utterly white poles. Life is messy, life is gray for the most part, and in the gray is where it, life, happens, in all of its gore and glory.
I have two favorite characters in this superbly executed series: Arya Stark - and by association Ned Stark - and Tyrion Lannister. Arya is the 'tomboy' daughter of Lord Stark. Lord Stark, Ned as he is called, has a strong core. He knows what he's about and he's comfortable with his core values. Ned claims to be a simple fighting man but he is far from 'simple.' First, he is a noble and few things spell 'simple' when nobility is involved, especially in pre-medieval Europe.
Ned is politically astute, a man of principle but also a man of reason. Ned has a number of children with Lady Catelyn, the most gripping of which is Arya. Arya despises sewing and typical activities of ladies. She couldn't care less for traditionally female roles and feels the most alive when playing outside with boys or learning how to use the sword. Lord Stark, sees Arya's nature and potential from the very beginning and in a kindness-informed fashion arranges for a sward-fighting tutor for her. She should be allowed to do what she chooses. And this is yet another reason to see him as a likable hero. Naturally, such tolerance is not ahistorical as examples of sword-loving females abound in pre-Christian myths. A quick example comes to mind, Brunhild from the Land of Ice as seen in the Song of the Nibelungs.
Another character I am absolutely taken by is Tyrion Lannister. Tyrion is marked as 'different.' As he puts is, he might as well be a bastard child as his father seems to reserve much resentment for him on account of him being the reason for his mother's premature death (she died at childbirth.) In addition, his 'mark' refers to him suffering from dwarfism. He is derogatorily referred to as the 'imp.' As he tells Jon Snow who is too young to use his own mark - i.e., that of being a bastard son to Ned Stark - to self-protect. Tyrion says to Jon with regards to his situation: “Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you.” Words of wisdmon, Jon Snow. I'd take heed.
Tyrion's wisdom does not come purely out of suffering and experiential knowledge, however. Although, sadness seems to be inherent to him he also has an uncanny ability to read people well and fully. He reads voraciously, is highly learned, and, as a result, had access to all sorts of information and feedback which he is very quick to retrieve and use when he needs to.
Tyrion knows he is not loved. He knows this and he fully accepts it. See, acceptance is key here. Acceptance is what makes his truly great. He operates in reality and not in some idealism-tainted world where warm and fuzzy feelings abound. But he also knows his worth, or rather the worth of his family. "A Lannister always pays his debt", he is often heard saying. And that they do. Not only he, apparently, but all Lannisters. Tyrion is born into a wealthy family but of all of them he is the only one who has a shred of reality-informed kindness in him. The lack of kindness he's been exposed to his whole life as a result of his unfortunate condition is what seems to fuel his unique modus vivendi.
He uses his so-called vices and hedonism as a way of self-shielding. He knows he can rely on two things for survival: his father's coins and his own wisdom/talent for survival. He is rarely seen scheming and alliance-forging. He only tries to rely on others when his immediate life is in danger or when he's about to bestow an act of kindness on fellow 'marked' characters, like the newly paralized Bram, son of Lord Stark.
In sum, I like Game of Thrones for a number of reasons. I'm keen on it as a medievalist, no doubt. However, the reason why I am taken by it is that it portrays human nature for how it is: circumstance-informed, mostly denuded of idealism when reality is not forced into the shadows of the margins, and last but so definitely not least, self-mythologizing. Most exquisitely so.
Monday, May 23, 2011
And Then It Was about Change
"Let's talk about change," says the friend I went to grad school with.
The question came out of the blue which was not necessarily a big surprise to me. I'm told I'm rather decent at dealing with 'out-of-the-blue' statements/questions as I do dish them out quite easily, so reacting to them does not usually require much effort.
We started talking about new music, the Beastie Boys' new release, how some bands have to be seen live to be truly appreciated, ah, and why the creative class tends to cluster in certain areas as opposed to others. Then, all of a sudden, the conversation turned all change-y and philosophical.
I don't usually know what to make of 'change' questions. I seem to participate in a whole lot of discussions that deal with change, though. The answer I provide tends to follow the same tune for the most part i.e., change happens, so you do it. There's no way around it. Sometimes, when I feel jovial and generally at ease, I even get grammatical on one. The example I bring up is the German auxiliary verb 'sein' i.e., 'to be.' I didn't do so on my friend today as, well, he's fully privy to all sorts of verbal behavior. He's seen and done 'em all. In a nutshell, we're trained in the same thing so I'd be preaching to the choir. But, to complete a point, and for the sake of elucidating the idea in this platform, the verb 'to be' in German is happily married to change, and more specifically, change of state. One cannot form the perfect tense of change-signifying verbs were it not for this verb. It's that important a player. So, in German, one says 'I am fallen asleep' instead of 'I have fallen asleep', or 'I am gone' as opposed to 'I have gone' and, most greatly, 'they are died' i.e., 'they have died' and so forth. Right, you get the gist.
'Now' is all we have and if now is pregnant with change then you friggin' handle it. Idealizing the past and projecting too optimistically onto the future does not help anyone. Well, not if having a good grasp on reality is a priority and I tend to see it as one. I don't know, it seems to work out better this way for me and mine. But, I guess, that's how I happen to roll.
Clichéd, I know, but all we have is the present and living hard in it is the only way to do justice to it. I find, I'm keen on adverbs. They modify so well. See, 'well' - adverb. They're ubiquitous. "You're keen on adverbs" says my friend to me as well. Ha, funny, coming from one adverb lover to another. But I digress. I don't know why I'm keen on adverbs, though. I reckon it has something to do with my literary conditioning. We can't necessarily escape our respective upbringing fully. Especially if it's literarily fecund. This, I do believe. I actually know it to be thus. We are what we read or what our parents read when they had us, even. Ah, hold on. Let me backtrack. If the latter part of that statement were true, I'd be in trouble. I'd rather believe in the former, I think. We are what we read. Ok, that I can do. That I know how to deal with. But back to the adverb. The main function of 'now' is to attract one's attention to what truly matters, i.e. the moment at hand or - as I'm told I say often - contemporaneity. And therein lies my enamorment with it.
I'm often rendered wordless however, not philosophically necessarily but rather experientially as I don't share many of my interlocutors' belief that change is hard. I have a moderately good relationship with change. It wasn't always like that, however. It truly is an acquired reaction. One thing I find useful when dealing with utter novelty is to fuse it with already familiar and comfort-informed things. This is why I always bring familiar playlists, Curb, Wonder Boys, and workout outfits. Armed with familiarity and comfort, no change is too hard to conquer.
In nuce, it's not change that's hard but rather constancy. It's difficult (actually, I mean to write impossible but I'm in too sunny a disposition, I guess) to keep pace with constancy. Its gruesome at times and it requires constant work to keep. Change provides a bit of a breather, a chance to view things from another perspective and point of view. If it weren't for change, the processing of ideas and any life experience would be hard to accomplish.
The question came out of the blue which was not necessarily a big surprise to me. I'm told I'm rather decent at dealing with 'out-of-the-blue' statements/questions as I do dish them out quite easily, so reacting to them does not usually require much effort.
We started talking about new music, the Beastie Boys' new release, how some bands have to be seen live to be truly appreciated, ah, and why the creative class tends to cluster in certain areas as opposed to others. Then, all of a sudden, the conversation turned all change-y and philosophical.
I don't usually know what to make of 'change' questions. I seem to participate in a whole lot of discussions that deal with change, though. The answer I provide tends to follow the same tune for the most part i.e., change happens, so you do it. There's no way around it. Sometimes, when I feel jovial and generally at ease, I even get grammatical on one. The example I bring up is the German auxiliary verb 'sein' i.e., 'to be.' I didn't do so on my friend today as, well, he's fully privy to all sorts of verbal behavior. He's seen and done 'em all. In a nutshell, we're trained in the same thing so I'd be preaching to the choir. But, to complete a point, and for the sake of elucidating the idea in this platform, the verb 'to be' in German is happily married to change, and more specifically, change of state. One cannot form the perfect tense of change-signifying verbs were it not for this verb. It's that important a player. So, in German, one says 'I am fallen asleep' instead of 'I have fallen asleep', or 'I am gone' as opposed to 'I have gone' and, most greatly, 'they are died' i.e., 'they have died' and so forth. Right, you get the gist.
'Now' is all we have and if now is pregnant with change then you friggin' handle it. Idealizing the past and projecting too optimistically onto the future does not help anyone. Well, not if having a good grasp on reality is a priority and I tend to see it as one. I don't know, it seems to work out better this way for me and mine. But, I guess, that's how I happen to roll.
Clichéd, I know, but all we have is the present and living hard in it is the only way to do justice to it. I find, I'm keen on adverbs. They modify so well. See, 'well' - adverb. They're ubiquitous. "You're keen on adverbs" says my friend to me as well. Ha, funny, coming from one adverb lover to another. But I digress. I don't know why I'm keen on adverbs, though. I reckon it has something to do with my literary conditioning. We can't necessarily escape our respective upbringing fully. Especially if it's literarily fecund. This, I do believe. I actually know it to be thus. We are what we read or what our parents read when they had us, even. Ah, hold on. Let me backtrack. If the latter part of that statement were true, I'd be in trouble. I'd rather believe in the former, I think. We are what we read. Ok, that I can do. That I know how to deal with. But back to the adverb. The main function of 'now' is to attract one's attention to what truly matters, i.e. the moment at hand or - as I'm told I say often - contemporaneity. And therein lies my enamorment with it.
I'm often rendered wordless however, not philosophically necessarily but rather experientially as I don't share many of my interlocutors' belief that change is hard. I have a moderately good relationship with change. It wasn't always like that, however. It truly is an acquired reaction. One thing I find useful when dealing with utter novelty is to fuse it with already familiar and comfort-informed things. This is why I always bring familiar playlists, Curb, Wonder Boys, and workout outfits. Armed with familiarity and comfort, no change is too hard to conquer.
In nuce, it's not change that's hard but rather constancy. It's difficult (actually, I mean to write impossible but I'm in too sunny a disposition, I guess) to keep pace with constancy. Its gruesome at times and it requires constant work to keep. Change provides a bit of a breather, a chance to view things from another perspective and point of view. If it weren't for change, the processing of ideas and any life experience would be hard to accomplish.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Hair Is Rarely Inconsequential
I like my hair stylist. Unlike other stylists I've had in other parts of North America, he is somewhat introspective and talks sparingly. I like that. Plus, he is quick and fantastically accurate with his free hand cutting or 'precision cuts', as he refers to them. Guy knows how to measure length with his eye. In a mere 30 minutes he can produce a perfectly executed cut and he never makes you wait. A 2:00pm appointment means exactly that and at 2:30 you're free to resume your day. A man after my own heart.
Today, as he was educating me on the merits of a well-cut bob and why it's a good choice for certain face shapes, he noted that he finds it curious that I tend to answer his questions with questions.
I got a kick out of his observation as, well, he was right.
"What do you mean?" I added cheekily.
As he was working on his precision cut, I got to thinking more about his observation. The act of question acting is not just directly related to information gathering. Quite often, we ask for the purpose of evading additional questions we might be asked which we might be uncomfortable discussing or simply unwilling to entertain. Question-asking as a way of addressing a received question creates a space of comfort, a space in which attention can be shifted to other targets. I suppose that's why we have idioms like, "well, I asked you first." The idiom is not necessarily an infantile evasion as there's some etiquette-informed truth to it. Hierarchy matters in language and s/he who asks first needs to have first pick.
Certain spaces create better arenas of information gathering than others. Hair salons are one such space. I wondered why that was so today and I came to the same conclusion I've come to in the past. Aesthetic topics serve a litany of functions, a couple of which are the bringing forth of distractions and creating a venue in which to discuss substance. Aesthetics, as it benefits the self, helps lower one's guard and it ends up making one feel more at ease, more approachable linguistically.
And might even dare to answer a question in anything but the interrogative.
"So, how do you like your place?"
Instead of pulling an oldie but a goodie, "Yeah, yours is a short walk from here, right? The city smells great in the Spring, eh?"
I simply said, "I like it when I'm in it which is not a whole lot of the time." I wanted to add, "What about you?" You like yours"..., but I didn't.
I suppose, it's okay to answer certain questions when asked first whether one's getting a precision haircut or not.
Today, as he was educating me on the merits of a well-cut bob and why it's a good choice for certain face shapes, he noted that he finds it curious that I tend to answer his questions with questions.
I got a kick out of his observation as, well, he was right.
"What do you mean?" I added cheekily.
As he was working on his precision cut, I got to thinking more about his observation. The act of question acting is not just directly related to information gathering. Quite often, we ask for the purpose of evading additional questions we might be asked which we might be uncomfortable discussing or simply unwilling to entertain. Question-asking as a way of addressing a received question creates a space of comfort, a space in which attention can be shifted to other targets. I suppose that's why we have idioms like, "well, I asked you first." The idiom is not necessarily an infantile evasion as there's some etiquette-informed truth to it. Hierarchy matters in language and s/he who asks first needs to have first pick.
Certain spaces create better arenas of information gathering than others. Hair salons are one such space. I wondered why that was so today and I came to the same conclusion I've come to in the past. Aesthetic topics serve a litany of functions, a couple of which are the bringing forth of distractions and creating a venue in which to discuss substance. Aesthetics, as it benefits the self, helps lower one's guard and it ends up making one feel more at ease, more approachable linguistically.
And might even dare to answer a question in anything but the interrogative.
"So, how do you like your place?"
Instead of pulling an oldie but a goodie, "Yeah, yours is a short walk from here, right? The city smells great in the Spring, eh?"
I simply said, "I like it when I'm in it which is not a whole lot of the time." I wanted to add, "What about you?" You like yours"..., but I didn't.
I suppose, it's okay to answer certain questions when asked first whether one's getting a precision haircut or not.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Why Being Busy Matters
When I say 'hello' on the phone sometimes, the other end of the phone asks me, "you sound busy. You busy? Your hello says 'busy'."
"I only said hello! You gleaned all that from two syllables?!" And then we break into some Abott and Costello routine.
Here's an odd confession.
I can't skip things that are on my schedule/calendar. I've tried a number of times but when I do I get attacked by royal pangs of guilt. 'Bad, Bri, bad. You skipped out on yoga or picking up dry-cleaning, or replying to so-and-so-'s email.'
If the tasks are not on the calendar, I can skip them but if they are, I can't not keep them.
This is the reason why I wouldn't sluff as a teenager.
My classmates would always ask in disbelief: "Why don't you want to go to a party instead of 19th century English poetry?"
"Because my schedule says I'm in class from 8-2, you know what I mean? Then, it's MTV after class. And then I've got ping-pong. And then Inspector Morse is on at 8 (Man, I used to LOVE Morse!). So, no, can't skip."
I laugh now when I am reminded of this seemingly odd behavior. I laugh but I still 'get' what my teenage version meant by "well, it's in my schedule to do this, so, yeah, I've got to do it."
Ok, consider this rather insipid illustration by Hugh Grant's character in About a Boy. This was the only minute in the film worth my time and interest. I turned off my attention after that. I get Hugh Grant's discussion of 'units of time'. It somehow makes perfect sense to me.
Sticking to a schedule helps many process information. Answers are often hidden between tasks. Panacea is to be found between tasks. Being busy keeps one in motion and being in a state of moving keeps one interested and in that very process interesting. Aren't most things about the latter, anyway?
It matters being busy. It matters because busy-ness brings a level of perspective that one cannot have when having too much time to mull things over.
My academic background has made me especially aware of this. Doing a close reading of half a 13-th century poem for a year can eventually test one's patience and one's relationship with time. I get general anxiety when I have much time on my hand to do one specific thing. The thing becomes less daunting, hence handleable, when done in the company of other things. The phrase that gets used by those in my life is, "you look like you're in your head again." I know what that phrase stands for. It stands for restlesness or rather fear of restlessness.
I got to thinking abou what we were doing this time last year on my drive back from work tonight. And this time last year I got a call from the phone operators of Real Time with Bill Maher informing me that we had won some complimentary tickets to a live taping of the HBO show at their studio on Fairfax Ave. in Los Angeles. Since we were heading to LA that weekend, the phone call could not have been timelier.
Seeing a live episode of Real Time was not just fun. It was another great example of how indispensable being busy is to me. Getting to the studio in time was nigh heroic. If you've ever driven in Los Angeles, you don't have to think too hard why. Los Angeles traffic is the stuff nightmares are made of. Our day this time last year consisted of a lot of activities and we made the taping of the show in the nick of time. I like it when I make it to things in the nick of time. I don't like to wait. Waiting sucks. Waiting makes me clench my teeth, move restlessly, and get aggravated at the thought that time, my time is being wasted.
Being busy matters because it gives many of us the impression that we count, that we are important. And the impression of being something, more often than not, has more weight than actual substance. Impressions are the stuff actual encouragement is made out of and encouragement is rarely inconsequential. Being busy reinforces a pattern of movement/motion and it is at the core of being dynamic, with a pulse, alive.
"I only said hello! You gleaned all that from two syllables?!" And then we break into some Abott and Costello routine.
Here's an odd confession.
I can't skip things that are on my schedule/calendar. I've tried a number of times but when I do I get attacked by royal pangs of guilt. 'Bad, Bri, bad. You skipped out on yoga or picking up dry-cleaning, or replying to so-and-so-'s email.'
If the tasks are not on the calendar, I can skip them but if they are, I can't not keep them.
This is the reason why I wouldn't sluff as a teenager.
My classmates would always ask in disbelief: "Why don't you want to go to a party instead of 19th century English poetry?"
"Because my schedule says I'm in class from 8-2, you know what I mean? Then, it's MTV after class. And then I've got ping-pong. And then Inspector Morse is on at 8 (Man, I used to LOVE Morse!). So, no, can't skip."
I laugh now when I am reminded of this seemingly odd behavior. I laugh but I still 'get' what my teenage version meant by "well, it's in my schedule to do this, so, yeah, I've got to do it."
Ok, consider this rather insipid illustration by Hugh Grant's character in About a Boy. This was the only minute in the film worth my time and interest. I turned off my attention after that. I get Hugh Grant's discussion of 'units of time'. It somehow makes perfect sense to me.
Sticking to a schedule helps many process information. Answers are often hidden between tasks. Panacea is to be found between tasks. Being busy keeps one in motion and being in a state of moving keeps one interested and in that very process interesting. Aren't most things about the latter, anyway?
It matters being busy. It matters because busy-ness brings a level of perspective that one cannot have when having too much time to mull things over.
My academic background has made me especially aware of this. Doing a close reading of half a 13-th century poem for a year can eventually test one's patience and one's relationship with time. I get general anxiety when I have much time on my hand to do one specific thing. The thing becomes less daunting, hence handleable, when done in the company of other things. The phrase that gets used by those in my life is, "you look like you're in your head again." I know what that phrase stands for. It stands for restlesness or rather fear of restlessness.
I got to thinking abou what we were doing this time last year on my drive back from work tonight. And this time last year I got a call from the phone operators of Real Time with Bill Maher informing me that we had won some complimentary tickets to a live taping of the HBO show at their studio on Fairfax Ave. in Los Angeles. Since we were heading to LA that weekend, the phone call could not have been timelier.
Seeing a live episode of Real Time was not just fun. It was another great example of how indispensable being busy is to me. Getting to the studio in time was nigh heroic. If you've ever driven in Los Angeles, you don't have to think too hard why. Los Angeles traffic is the stuff nightmares are made of. Our day this time last year consisted of a lot of activities and we made the taping of the show in the nick of time. I like it when I make it to things in the nick of time. I don't like to wait. Waiting sucks. Waiting makes me clench my teeth, move restlessly, and get aggravated at the thought that time, my time is being wasted.
Being busy matters because it gives many of us the impression that we count, that we are important. And the impression of being something, more often than not, has more weight than actual substance. Impressions are the stuff actual encouragement is made out of and encouragement is rarely inconsequential. Being busy reinforces a pattern of movement/motion and it is at the core of being dynamic, with a pulse, alive.
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