A Crowning Achievement (I couldn't help myself)

I'm tempted to blog about all the negative economic woes, especially the hatchet job of cuts being handed down from on high at my job. But that would be really depressing and make my already paranoid self worry that somehow somebody might Google my rantings and then fire me. So, instead I will focus on yesterday's victory:

My wife and I successfully installed crown molding. Above isn't our crown molding as it still needs painting and looks kind of amateurish, but you get the idea. Well, maybe you don't.

In my storied career of house remodeling, I've installed a lot of baseboard. This is, if you didn't know, the grunt work of remodeling (i.e. anyone with a tape measure can pull it off). Finally I ventured into the unknown to finish off our living room. After viewing this and this and this, pausing and staring like a porn addict from every angle, I finally made some cuts. It was nerve-wracking knowing that a misstep would mean another trip to Loewes and another 20 bucks.

As I'm sure you know from viewing the previous videos, crown molding must be cut at an angle in the miter box and upside down--very easy to screw up. Amazingly our first corner was perfect; unfortunately we had a hell of a time fitting the last piece in. But all and all a successful evening with the saw and nail gun.

At 40 I rarely pull off something I didn't think I could do. Hopefully the hatchet job at work won't take my summer school money away which will pay for all this amazing home remodeling.

Obama finally got to me

Obama's inauguration speech wasn't streaming too well in my class (I was teaching) so I didn't see it live, but I did hear most of the NPR rebroadcast on the way home. At one point my cynical body did something it rarely does anymore: I got a tingle from my head all the way down through my legs. I'm more trusting of that tingle as I like to think I'm a bit more immune to kitsch and overwrought patriotism (e.g. certainly Ronald Reagan, if he were alive, couldn't cause the kind of emotion he did when I heard him speak at BYU). Also, I was impressed by my friend's, in The Cold Cold North, proclamation of hope. Finally, what brought me to the brink of hope, I listened to a This American Life podcast on the upcoming (at that point) inauguration. Even several conservatives expressed how they had softened and had more hope in Obama than they thought they would. And so....I've turned the corner (Note: I was almost derailed when on the same TAL program they discussed how Bush is STILL freakin more popular with the marines even though the VA representatives say the Bush administration hasn't supported any of their policies to support veterans). Drum role please..... I'm now officially prepared to say that I'm hopefully pessimistic.

Scheduling the minutes

3:07 pick up oldest son a couple of minutes late for an orthodontist appointment

3:07-3:16 listen to son complain about new piano lessons

3:17 arrive at orthodontist

3:40 discuss progress of son's braces with orthodontist

3:50-4:20 get my 18 year old permanent retainer removed (drilling off 18yr old glue hurts like hell)

4:21-4:30 again listen to son complain about piano lessons and how he hasn't talked with his gf for 24hrs

4:30-4:55 arrive home; help frantic wife prepare dinner while explaining multiple times to youngest son why right now is not a good time to read the last chapter in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

5:05 help wife and two boys out the door for music lessons

5:05-5:10 finish eating dinner

5:10-5:30 rush daughter to orthodontist to fix a "pokey wire" (turned out all we needed to do was rotate the little spring thingy on her appliance--love that word, "would you like an appliance in your mouth?" Discuss her science project, realizing that she hasn't followed up on what we talked about two days ago; measure out an uphill mile to walk later for science project.

5:30-5:50 clean up kitchen

5:50-6 consult with contractor remodeling our living room

6-7 work with daughter on science project--How long would it take to walk around the earth on the equator? (at first we figured about 2yrs until we realized we were not allowing the walker anytime to sleep, eat or rest--any ideas on making this look cool would be much appreciated). Try multiple times to help daughter understand that you must divide the smaller number into the larger number to convert minutes to days and days to years.

7 chase away anxiety from being so busy with a mixture of mint ice-cream, broken up symphony bar, and crushed cookies (damn, just remember I forgot the caramel sauce)

7:15 wife and I sequester ourselves in my office (now piled high with crap from living room being remodeled) which requires various threats to children, particularly youngest who wants me read the last chapter of the HP book RIGHT NOW; I get an update on her mother's failing health and we try to decide if she should go up to Rexburg for the weekend

7:40-8:00 try desperately to finish up HP but son has many questions; very enjoyable to see him so excited about reading but by damn I will watch the Office

8:00-8:30 to my son's utter disbelief that we still haven't finished HP, I laugh ass off watching The Office--not sure if it was an amazing episode or if I just needed a release. Listening to Michael's convoluted explanation to the district manager in NY about what he does right, sends me over the edge.

8:07, 8:18, and 8:29: read a bit of HP to son during the commercial

8:30 deal with freaked out son who can't believe we are also going to watch 30 Rock

8:30-9 watch 30 Rock, finish HP during the commercials--we did it! HP out loud in about two months.

9-9:20 get youngest into bed, start....HP and the prisoner of Azkaban

9:20-27 clean up kitch again

9:27-9:40 check email since I left early from work, while scrapping tongue raw newly discovered surface, then fiddle with two teeth that are hella sensitive since retainer removal

9:45-9:55 think about reading French theory book but instead finish Irving Stone's Lust for life for bk club on Friday--godalmighty Van Gogh had it tough

9:55-10:05 blank out for a bit thinking about Van Gogh's depression, his inability to live a mediocre "happy" life, his legacy of great art; wonder about my own ability to stay sane for the next 30 yrs.

10:05 hear Seinfeld re-run from other room--talk to wife while she is painting in living room while realizing I have not seen this very early Seinfeld.

10:15-10:30 sit down and watch rest of Seinfeld with wife; realize I have seen some of the scenes in the last half: Russian cable guys, pregnant bitchy woman who knows the Kennedy's and George's chocolate cake shirt; on the commercials we revisit her mother's health and trip to Rexburg and I help oldest son with spanish homework

10:35 take cats out in the garage and lock up; consider reading for a bit but realize I'm exhausted

10:45 in bed

11 amazingly I actualy fall asleep without getting up to read

Location

I feel like I have been plucked up and dropped into a different job. Instead of driving to work, I will be doing the train thing to our campus in the hood on M and W. I road Frontrunner, then Tracks, and then walked a mile. The walking was particularly strange as I'm just not used to walking much of anywhere, certainly not in the big city. On my return walk I went off the beaten path of State and 13th South--many boarded up stores, a few alleys, a big restaurant fan spewing crap onto the sidewalk, muchas palabras en espanol. A world out of sight but just blocks away from roads I've driven many times.

How easy it is to be absolutely isolated from anyone and anywhere Other. I'm quite confident that I did indeed go to work today, but I'm really not quite sure.

Holiday break's consumption of texts

I started the break with, as usual, high expectations of rigorous study and viewing. Here's my review--not nearly as rigorous as I'd hoped (as usual) but not too bad:

I read MacNeil and Cran's companion book to their amazing PBS series, Do you Speak American. Overall a very reasonable accounting of the English language. I was again hit by the complexity and vibrancy of the English language and by how much people futily attempt to "sure up" the boundaries. The key false assumption which promotes this futility is that language reflects morality as witnessed in the post WWI "Good English Makes Good Americans" campaign which issued this "Pledge for Children":

"I love the United States of America. I love my country's flag. I love my country's language. I promise:

1. That I will not dishonor my country's speech by leaving off the last syllable of words.

2. That I will say a good American 'yes' and 'no' in place of an Indian grunt 'um-hum' and 'nup-um' or a foreign 'ya,' or 'yeh' and 'nope.'"

There are two more points to the pledge but I will stop there--what a delicious irony that the very phrases (ya, nope) which now convey the essence of blue-collardness and casualness, easily spoken by the very people who would raise alarms about the influence of the spanish language, are "foreign" phrases.

***
I read a couple of SF novels: Ursula K. LeGuin's the telling and Mcauley's Child of the River. The telling Hainish cycle, the same setup as her most famous novel, The Left Hand of Darkness. In LHD we follow an early explorer sent to test the waters on a new planet to see if they are ready to become part of the Ekumen (federation of planets); in this newer novel we follow Sutty, an Observer on a planet recently accepted into the Ekumen. Ironically Sutty leaves Earth, a religious fundamentalist state (can't every imagine that happening!), to work with Aka, a world controlled by fundamentalist materialist state which completely rejected any "backwards" religion. A novel which addresses the Chris Hedges debate we had earlier here about the new atheists.

"The telling" is what's left over from the religion which has been pushed out. Instead the god of reason is worshipped above all. The underground religion which Sutty finds defines the sacred simply as beauty and suffering. Le Guin seems to agree with Chris Hedges that a materialist secular funamentalist state is just as bad as a religious fundamentalist one.

Overall an interesting read, especially as a companion to LHD, but it doesn't even approach the rich complexities and gender bending of LHD.

***

Child of the River by Paul Mcauley also brought me back to the new atheist debate: "Most men are no different from beasts of burden, their spirits broken by fear of the phantoms of religion invoked by priests and bureaucrats." Confluence seems to be the left over garbage from a genetic experiment gone wrong. There are hundreds of bloodlines, almost all of them mixes between humans and animals, except for one: an orphaned boy named Yama. We follow Yama as he tries to discover his ancestral roots while at the same time uncover his hidden talents to control the many machines. I like Yama as a hero. He makes mistakes and has sex with Tamora who is from one of the animal bloodlines, a carniverous race his kills prey and eats them raw. Nothing like sex that leaves the hero with scratches on his flanks and nips out of his shoulder AND can't lead to pregnancy. SF at its best boyhood juvenile self.

The sex was in celebration of their victory over the merchant rogue star-sailor, a species which inhabits and then discards others' bodies. When I met this rogue, I immediately thought of Jabba the hut from The Empire Strikes Back:

Yama halted a few paces from him and bowed from the waist, but the merchant did not acknowledge him. . . the musicians played through the variations of their raga and the merchant ate a dozen pastries one after the other and stroked the gleaming pillows of the woman's large breasts with swollen , ring-encrusted fingers. Like her master, the woman was quite without hair. The petals of her labia were pierced with rings; from one of these rings a fine gold chain ran to a bracelet on the merchant's wrist.

Ouch! Can you say mysogynistic? As you might guess there's quite a battle to wrench power from the x-rated Jabba and finally kill him.

Hmm, I didn't mean to focus so much on sex; even though the book has a raw feel, there's not nearly as much sex as one might suspect from my discussion here.

***

Movies:

The Savages: loved every minute of Laura Linney's and Phillip Seymour Hoffman's performances.

Father Ted: Season 2 As always, hilarious.

Man on wire: Phillipe Petit's walk across the two towers was audacious, nerve-racking, and crazy yet beautiful. Absolutely astounded by the years of preparation it took.

The Squid and the Whale: While I love both Laura Linney and Jeff Daniels, I didn't believe in their characters for one second. If a rampaging terrorist burst on the scence and shot the entire family, I would have barely flinched. I have no idea why many critics liked this film.

Happy Valley: We made it through 30 minutes and I'm quite confident no one did any editing of that 30 minutes--too bad.

Factotum: Matt Dillon still has it.

Transiberian: A pleasant find I'd never heard of--kind of a return to the old Woody Harrelson from Cheers but better.

Mississippi Masala: Early Denzel I'd missed; not your normal, cliched cross-cultural affair.

Heroes (the last 3 episodes of season #1) excellent modern SF but I'm thinking I will pass on season 2, 3, 4... Still, what a brilliant move to cast the funny Masi Oka as Hiro Nakamura.

If you made it this far, thanks. Writing it down, remembering what I liked and didn't, helps me feel like maybe I did actually do something over the last month.

Brief

Will be brief as contents of post will explain: must stop blog-fucking around as the beginning of all things forgotten, put-on-hold, and procrastinated start Friday. Now must stop editing previous sentence. Stop . . . now! like right now! Ok, now! Shit almighty.

Reflections on 40

Wow, I'm officially 40. The actual day is anti-climatic (or would that be anti-important as I didn't expect a climax of any type). When I turned 39 I was nervous about 40. Seems silly now. It's just a number, a half-way point between 0 and 80 (80 the number I can't imagine living past). But I have been thinking more about how many years I have to work--probably 30 if I'm lucky which is sobering. Too bad there aren't graceful ways of slowly retiring. And I worry about the aches and pains in my back, hip and stomach. Naive idealism is mostly gone, worn away by the realities of my limitations and the constraints of social structures.

I have a good friend who also just turned 40; he's starting his second semester of law school. I'm impressed. At 40 I can't quite imagine starting much of anything. Long gone are my desires to pursue something completely new, to take a big risk. Of course, in part, this is because I'm relatively happy with my job teaching gig. But also it's because I feel a deep down tiredness and sensible desire to not overextend myself.

For example, while I like my job, I'm not that keen on living in Utah--not really a great place for someone like me, a retired Mormon. I'd like for my kids to grow up in a community where they could actually choose whether they wanted to attend LDS seminary or not; not doing so as a Mormon kid could be the kiss of death to friends and future dating. But I just can't imagine applying for jobs, putting myself out there, selling all my many important qualities and skills. I'm much more satisfied with surviving than I was at 20 or even 30.

In reflection maybe 40 does mean something. It gives me a definitive half-way number, the literal representation of a life which is now heading down toward its end. I'm now officially coasting, not striving or scraping for legitimacy or happiness. I have what I have: a tenure track position at a college in Mormonville, a 3,000 ft square house built in the 70s with three floors and low ceilings, a community which contains few if any of my ilk, a family with three children and a wife, a geography where it's sometimes 5 degrees and at other times a blistering 100 with only a swamp cooler for cooling.

Sounds depressing I guess, particularly in the context of heroic stories in movies and in the news which "inspire" us to believe we can do it all, we can become whatever we want at any age in this great nation. Ultimately, I'm relieved and excited to hunker down, to appreciate more what I have, to stop worrying about what might be... THIS IS THE PLACE so I might as well sit back and read a book or write a post in the winter OR dig around in my garden or go for mt bike ride in the summer. Finally I can fully begin to listen to what my genes have been telling me for years: while survival has costs, at least you are around to enjoy what's left over.

40 ain't too bad, maybe a much more important event than I realized.

Christmas Stats

5 favorite Chinese dishes eaten: crab wontons, tangerine beef, pork and green beans in brown sauce, ham fried rice, vegetable lo mien with yummy noodles

1 useful gift I never would have purchased: Belkin laptop rest (currently in use)

5:56--the ungodly hour by which we were awoken

6 Present Stations: hidden locations throughout the house where gifts were placed and then found by deciphering clues

1 stupid idea: hiding most expensive electronic gifts in the washer (I-pod for daughter, MarioKart for youngest son, digital camera for oldest son); luckily only one of the boxes got a bit wet

1 more gift given to wife than she gave me: I won but had to rely on two last minute cheapo presents from Kings--"I didn't know I was in need of gloves"

5 chocolate oranges given in stockings as always

1 fire started in stove (THE fire of the year)

1 cat in the bag of wrapping paper

$3,000 which wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, spent on our Christmas but was by a woman in Clearfield for her three children whose gifts were all stolen last week

1 pair of Mountain Dew pajama bottoms given to oldest son which brought more joy than any other gift

6 books given and then ignored while kids setup/used/played electronic gifts

1 French Canadian children's book given: Little zizi by Stephane Poulin about how little boys worry about the size of their.... (hopefully perfect for youngest son who has always been quite focused on his "gorilla"--a mishearing of "groin")

Christmas Eve, demolition projects and chinese food

Being Christmas (or should I say xmas) eve, I must move on to other "new" issues. I do love this time of year. I always struggle a bit at the beginning of break wondering where I should focus my energy, worrying if I don't feel like I'm accomplishing something. By now, the 24th, I frankly don't give a damn. Ironically, though, we started a demolition project this morning.

After our personal carpenter, John, sized up the last room in our house needing renovation, we couldn't resist getting started. Crowbar and sledge hammer quickly made slush of the 30+ year old brick wall/ mantle in our living room. Well, it's about 5% done and I only hit my hand once with the hammer.

Just as I chipped away at the brick, my wife has been working on me for a couple of years to get going on this project. Of course we don't have any saved up money but what the hell--we never will. Somehow it seems if we remodel this last room, the room we ironically spend the most time in, our lives will be made whole, we will have arrived. So, I've got a little work ahead of me during the break then I will hand off to our main man carpenter to do the finishing touches (that is everything but the demolition--design, cabinets, bookshelves, crown molding etc).

In about 45 minutes we will take off to Eastern Winds in Ogden, a slightly above mediocre Chinese restaurant where we eat every Christmas Eve--it's kind of homage to The Christmas Story movie. I wish I'd chosen a better restaurant to start this tradition but now we started the kids won't let us go anywhere different (like Dave's Kitchen on 33rd South in SLC. Actually we initially meant to go to the Mandarin in Bountiful but those slackers would rather be home with their families on xmas eve.

Now as long as none of our children barf up the Chinese food (this has happened twice) then we are set for tomorrow. Happy Christmas to all!

It mattereth not whether we believe or not for tomorrow we will all receive gifts we would have never gotten for ourselves and eat WAY too much food.

Religious indoctrination as abuse

I'm almost off my "new" atheist kick but I did reread some of the God Delusion and finally fished the last two chapters. I knew the "childhood, abuse and religion" would be a tough chapter for me as I have ambivalent feelings about my own childrens' religious training. I can't go all the way with Dawkins and still believe there is a developmental element to religion, something one grows out of and/or into a deeper, less institutional faith. Dawkins would clearly disagree. Still, I am struck, as Dawkins points out, by how easily society allows and even encourages adults to indoctrinate children into a religion. Even knowing that this indoctrination will, for many, necessarily lead to a lot of pain and anger as the child questions the inconsistencies, guilt, hatred, fear etc. later in life. This problem is unintentionally highlighted by Nick Seaton, spokesman for a conservative religious group: "To present all faiths as equally valid is wrong. Everybody is entitled to think their faith is superior to others, be they Hindus, Jews, Muslims or Christians--otherwise what's the point in having faith?" (340 qtd in Dawkins). Yes, what an entitlement it is!!

But Dawkins goes much further than I can. He asserts several times in this chapter that religious indoctrination of children is as bad or even worse than sexual abuse of a child. That just doesn't make sense. For one, you can't untwine religious belief from culture, identity, and parental love--they are interrelated and religious faith is not all while sexual abuse is one thing. Two, even if parents do not bring up a child in a religion they will necessarily inculcate many values which are contradictory, ineffective, and certainly some immoral. We can't escape human weakness by crushing religion. Of course many of these familiar secular beliefs or practices won't be tied up with the institutional power of a church but certainly *some* mothers and fathers can encourage as much or more guilt concerning secular concerns as the worst of religions.

Again I agree with Hedges that these human tendencies (to control for example) are in the human heart and would exist without religious institutions. Not that institutions can't and do not often justify and give place for these tendencies to work; they most certainly do. Of course, this assertion by no means indicates that I'm completely at ease about my complicitness with my own children's religious upbringing. I continually wonder how far to push. But I am confident that expressing confidence in their ability to think for themselves is more important than jamming down their throats my version of how things work. No sense exchanging one indoctrination for another--parenting has to be rhetorical, right?

Ok, so I'm not quite off this topic; promise to discuss my current sci-fi readings next time.

The Gap

I started this as a response to the comments on my last post but it go long and I have a goal of posting something each day during the holidays. Much more to say and think about. I have listened to 14 minutes of Harris here and find I agree with everything he says. Still need to listen to his debate with Hedges and need to find some of the more vitriolic stuff I've heard he has said. Must go to family xmas party, hence I'm sending out myy half-boiled ideas into the blogosphere.

***

Personally, Dr. W., your description of faith and doubt certainly reflects my life. I think I finally gave in to doubt because I was going crazy trying to hold both faith and doubt in my mind. Of course I still existed as a somewhat faithful Mormon for many years with much doubt. And I would consider many of my friends as "doubting" mormons though, certainly faith has the upperhand if you will.

But here, I think, we move away from Hedges' criticisms of the new atheists. Hedges' key point is that, as Lisa quotes, morality can both spring from faith or non-faith/doubt/science. Understanding/believing/using the scientific method doesn't guarantee moral outcomes. Partially this is true, must be true, because of the gap in what we actually know and understand. .

For me it's important to recognize that we as humans will employ different "ways of being" in order to work through/deal with this gap--the gap between what we know (can verify with the scientific method) and what we don't know OR what we don't know that we don't know. Humans will always need to humbly accept this gap.

But some of these new atheists give little credence to this gap. While I understand on a theoretical level that science can/could/maybe will slowly but surely fill in this gap in knowledge, there will always be a gap. Therefore we need a way of engaging this gap, speculating on this gap, comforting us because of this gap. For many this is religion which I can empathize with from this perspective even though it doesn't work for me. For many story and art help “fill” this gap, or at least contend with it.

To me postmodern theory does a lot of work with this gap but new atheists like Dawkins totally reject postmodernism as a critical vein of study--just a bunch of bullshit to Dawkins (see Postmodernism disrobed). That smacks me as pompous and dogmatic, a position that doesn’t respect the gap. Dawkins ends The God Delusion (I quite enjoyed the first half of this book) with “I am thrilled to be alive at a time when humanity is pushing against the limits of understanding. Even better, we may eventually discover that there are no limits.” Here I agree with Hedges that Dawkins ultimately tries to externalize what’s wrong with the world as religion. Once we get past that there are no limits. And my understanding is that Harris and Hitchens go way beyond Dawkins in this front—e.g. Harris’ support of torture and possible preemptive strike on the Muslim world.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) we will always be humans, we will always have gaps in our knowledge, we will always live in socially constructed narrative which will continue to impose limits.

Criticism of the "new" atheists

Lisa B. asked for it so: My cousin turned me on to this podcast. It comes from a program called "Unwelcome Guests"--gotta to love that name. The first one is Christopher Hedges (guy who wrote War a force that gives us meaning), but I haven't listened to the second one.

Hedges nails what I find uncomfortable about the new atheists (Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens, and, though to a lesser degree, Dawkins). And he helps explain why I can't completely write off religion even though I do not believe in it and it tends to drive me crazy. To summarize my favorite criticisms of the new atheists:

*both the new atheists and right wing christians believe in collective salvation/ moral progress which is dangerous
*both believe in a utopia (which literally means "no place"; hence there ain't one)
*both condemn vigorously those that do not agree with them
*christians misuse the bible while these new atheists misuse Darwinism
*both want to make education about indoctrination
*both have a fundamentalist mindset

*new atheists forget some lessons worth keeping from religion. For example, "the wisdom of sin" as Hedges' explains we forget that we are always self-motivated and always imperfect.

I do, however, wonder about equating these two groups when one, the far right, is so much more mainstream and thereby has so much more power. Hedges addresses this but not adequately enough. One could argue that atheists or humanists are less accepted than any religion, race, or sexual orientation. Maybe I'm wrong but I know of more openly gay politicians than atheists.

I'd really be interested to hear what others think--SigNo? Lisa? Middlebrow? HappyHeretic? (even though I already know through email that HappyHeretic wasn't too happy about Hedges' criticisms)

Playing the intellectual

Today I finally feel like I got down to some studyin.

First, I continued to reread Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse. Amazingly as it may seem *I* chose this book for our couples book club. It's a much more philosophical read than I'd thought and it's a bit confusing since it has three distinct sections, one a small print 20 page, almost unreadable, "Treatise on the Steppenwolf." What the hell was I thinking? I won't go into details. Suffice it to say that my criteria were the following: book in my house I hadn't read but had always meant to, book under 300 or so pages, one that caught my attention the first few pages (I think I was on something when I checked Steppen for this). Probably should have picked a Bend in the River by Naipaul.

So, anyways, since I gave Steppenwolf a very quick read over Thanksgiving, trying to assuage my nervousness about my pick (which was not accomplished), I decided to re-read the first half or so before book club on Friday. And I have to say I've enjoyed it much more than the first time (I actually like the middle section after the "guy" who finds Steppenwolf's manuscript, introduces said manuscript and before the pre-magical realism/ magical theatre stuff). As you may or may not know the main character, Harry Haller, can't stand the bougeious mentality but at the same time can't live without them. He's unhappy and contemplates suicide; kind of an older, more philosophical, Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye.

Here are some of my favorite sections, some stuff already "published" through email to my book club, emails which probably will only add insult to injury:

A central scene is the dinner scene with the professor and his wife (on pp. 84-89 in my book). Haller accepts the dinner invitation only to quickly realize his mistake upon seeing the Goethe portrait in their home: "Here fine Old Masters and the Nation's Great Ones were at home, not Steppenwolves." During dinner the professor criticizes and unpatriotic article that was, unbeknownst to them, actually written by Haller. Haller racks his brain for something "harmless to say" but like the rock in the road he finally lets loose on the Goethe portrait. Things go downhill from here. Haller leaves and then reflects: "I could not bear this tame, lying, well-mannered life any longer. And since it appeared that I could not bear my loneliness any longer either, since my own company had become so unspeakably hateful and nauseous, since I struggled for breath in a vacuum and suffocated in hell, what way out was left me? There was none" (89).

Even though this will surely to bring more scorn and ridicule on me, I can't help but connect in a deep way to his inability to leave with or without others.

***
One more then I will leave you alone:

Just found this passage I'd overlooked on the first read: "there was no power in the world that could prevail with me to go through the mortal terror of another encounter with myself, to face another reorganization, a new incarnation, when at the end of the road there was no peace or quiet--but forever destroying the self, in order to renew the self" (72).

Don't we all feel this at times? (maybe not this extreme). We get a new brilliant insight into our lives--how to be happier, more motivated, kinder--only to realize a week or a month or a year later that our insight was only skin deep. It crumbles in our hands, forcing us yet again to try and figure out what makes us tick.

***

I know that many of the passages are laughable--so very earnest--but I can't help but bring my own earnestness to them, couldn't help giving the book a second chance, couldn't help feeling a connection with another malcontent created almost 100 years ago.

I also studied up on Hesse's influences: Either/Or by Soren Kierkegaard which I take it argues against Hegel's dialectic by asserting that our choices still matter, that we choose between the ascete or ethical path; Goethe, who did a bit of everything--should actually read something by him; thought about reading up on the musical stuff but not that ambitious.

Second, I listened to Chris Hedges' criticism of the New atheists (Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens etc.) but I will have to flesh that out in another post.

Dog Days of Winter

Saturday: High 9* Low -1*


This is a joke, right? Gotta be. Some Internet prank or something.

Happy Holidays

As per usual, I've felt sick twice since I finished my grades. Somehow my good-for-nothing-body knows the day my grades are done. There's both good and bad in that.

Bad that I wasted an hour trying to fall asleep last night while my stomach boiled and gurgled. On the other hand I did read a section from Do you speak an American? waiting for my stomach to stop its convulsions. And this morning instead of doing one of the many difficult things I probably ought to do, I read again from Do you Speak... and I'm now watching Factotum. Maybe you've seen it; if not it's about a writer/bum/womanizer/socialist (Matt Dillon). Kind of a Leaving Las Vegas, with some philosophical voiceover, but not as dark.

In one of the early scenes he has an interview for a job at a pickle factory. Henry tells him he's a writer:

"What's your novel about?" the manager asks.

"Everything," Henry answers.

"So it's about cancer?"

"Yes."

"What about…my wife?"

"She's in there, too."

Dillon's dry delivery is hilarious. Many funny understated moments like early on, but as it meanders along the pain, alcohol, and depressing "fucks" suck the humor away.

Naming the most important jobs

What do you call a person (usually the mother) who deals with the initial and most profuse barfing incidence of a child? Having played this role last night, my wife nailed the term this morning: barfmaid. Although this title may sound like a mere barf cleaner, I can only aspire to such high titles as last night I waited safely in bed till the herculean scraping and washing was done. But I did go on duty after that to take care of three bile throw-ups (really spit-ups) which allowed my wife go back to sleep. Still, a pale comparison to the duties of a true barfmaid, who faces one of the greatest challenges of parenthood.

Let us praise all barfmaids young and old: mothers who rushed to us as children, hand on our back while we wrenched up our guts, and women who hit the floor running before their mates gain consciousness.

Ricky Jervais on creationism

I heard Jervais interviewed by Terry Gross the other day. Loved him in the British office (grittier than the American office) but then kind of forgot about him. Of course without him we'd have no Office viewing on Thursdays. What a brilliant character he has created.

This bit starts with him saying "I used to believe in evolution but then I found this dusty old book in the library..." About 6 minutes in there is great bit about ch 3 in Genesis and the talking snake, "perfect diction as well, not a mumbling snake." Hilarious.

The girlfriend

My 13 year old son is downstairs with his girlfriend. It's kind surreal, just doesn't seem possible. I think she is a ghost.

The wife and younger kids went to the ward x-mas bash. The wife instructed me to head downstairs every once in awhile and say, "gotta get something from from the fruitroom" (actually my wife calls it a pantry but in cache valley we say fruitroom). So should I go down? It is kind of quiet right now. But what would I get out of the fruitroom? Some flour? Maybe some chips?

Again (see my earlier post on this subject) one half of me wants to maintain some boundaries while the other is kind of rooting for him. I mean who wouldn't want his son to experience the thrill of holding hands or the mountain-like accomplishment of a first kiss?

Whatever my own ambiguity, must be able to tell the wife I went down when she gets back. Guess I will go check out the canned goods.

When cleaning becomes a titillating temptation

Funny how the things I never have time for (listening to music, blogging, writing emails to colleagues, cleaning) I immediately start doing as soon as wheelbarrow of papers comes in at the end of the semester.

Hell, I got time for anything right now--call me! I'll pick you up. I'd drive you to Vegas and I hate Vegas. I'd shovel snow if there were snow. I'd even do one of my wife's projects. Shucks, I'd help you clean out your attic. Even cleaning my office is a titillating temptation.

Ok...temptation indulged: must read three papers and then I will allow myself to caressingly filter through the piles crap on my office floor.

Heroes: Pleasurable manipulation

My son and I have been watching season one of Heroes. We've knocked out 8 or so episodes during this last week. A romp of a show with almost as many cliffhangers as 24. Of course I feel manipulated but will allow such manipulations for pleasure and some time with my son for at least one season--not sure I can do more than that. The voice-over philosophical statements on agency, evolution, and ontology seem too serious considering the plot, but maybe I need to watch more episodes to find the meat underneath the action-packed veneer . . . not holding my breath.

More episodes will be watched as my son is begging me to watch two a day. Yesterday he watched one without me--how could he? He was reprimanded and made to watch the episode again while guiding me through it so we could ff through the slow parts (i.e. about 3 and half minutes).

With a fair amount of violence, gore, and tension (several squeamish demures while wondering, "can they show that on tv?") Tim Kring, the creator, made a brilliant move incorporating the Japanese odd couple who travel to America to help save the world. Hiro Nakamura, played by Masi Oka, is astoundingly funny which brings much needed breaks from the cranium lobotomies and regenerating, flayed body in the morgue.

Note to self: must figure out a way to discuss and watch Heroes episodes when I teach Middlebrow's scifi course next year. Certain to boost my evaluation scores.