Place: the final frontier

"Where are you?"
That's an easily answered question, isn't it?

"What is place?"
Uuuh, huh - you go ahead and try to answer that question in the same time frame. I dare you.

My section has argued about one paragraph of Aristotle's Physics over and over and over.
As for me, the entire time I was wishing I were someplace else . . . *wink*

Here's hoping your week is off to a good start.

Pax Christi
Emily

War and Peace

. . . was a 'vewy intewesting' novel. Tolstoy was an excellent novelist, although he was a very bad philosopher. Everyone in possession of the commonest sense knows that he has free will.

Many of my classmates and I have decided that this philosophical snafu does nothing but increase our admiration of Tolstoy's talent. For someone to believe in fatalism and still find life interesting enough to observe it and write about it as well as he did is a truly facinating thing.

Some students theorized that Mr. Tolstoy didn't really apply his theory to his characters or his conception of the world: they posited that, perhaps, he just 'thought the mule was pregnant' - didn't quite see the otherwise obvious consequences of his views in his everyday observations of life and community.

I personally don't buy that at all. I can see evidence of his theory in every character of this novel; admittedly, his character developments are far from flat and uninteresting (aspects one would think unavoidable in Tolstoy's theoretical slaves to circumstance) but Tolstoy does clearly state that he believes the mark of humanity to be his capability for deceiving himself into thinking that he has the power of choice. In this right, Tolstoy left most of his characters in a fullness of humanity, with all their self-inflicted deceptions about free will (read: common sense), and the lives he illustrates were, therefore, mostly realistic (albeit his characters were Russians . . . I've come to the conclusion that Russians must think funny, and I'm not Russian).

Another of my classmates stated that he felt betrayed by Tolstoy, who, using his phenomenal talents, had illustrated many diverse and lovable characters, only to show in the end that he had used them as puppets for the proposal of a dark, fatalistic philosophy. I can relate to his frustration - and the more I think it over, the more I suspect that to be true. I don't so much feel betrayed by Tolstoy, though -I pity him; after meeting a certain former-resident-of-Ohio I know that skeptical fatalists can be rather lovable. They have baggage from past experience which inhibits them from seeing what is otherwise evident to carefully nurtured individuals like myself. This particular man frequently shows undeniable signs of wanting to get out of his philosophy-by-default; I'm sure Tolstoy was the same way, at least at some point in his life (even if he was a Russian - I'm telling you those people are strange).

So, Ohio-man, you know who you are - if you're reading this, let me know if you've read this novel or not. I have a strong suspicion that you have.

With much love to all (especially to my second obsession, who might actually be reading this now, being deprived of his previous excuse: "I live your blog - why do I need to read it?"),
Em

I'm back on campus, and I've returned to my studies.

My section is very odd - the tutors (consciously or unconsciously?) loaded it up with all of the most talkative and stubborn people in my class. Surprisingly enough, it has not exploded yet (a consequence I was fully expecting), so I suppose it's possible that we did gain some maturity over these past four years.
I'm still skeptical. We'll see how it rides out over the next couple of weeks.

My tutors seem interesting - I've only had one of them before, and that was in freshman year, so this should be a very fresh set of experiences.

My biggest struggle so far has been trying to cope without my fiance. I've never been here when he wasn't by my side, and it's turning out to be a little rough on me.

Then again, perhaps this turmoil will become less significant after my thesis eats me.


*grin*

Pax Christi sit semper tecum,
Emily

I MUST REMEMBER

That I'm going back to this.

It's worth it - honestly, it is.

*whimper*

Maybe I should print out this photo and keep it in front of me at all times, eh?

But then again, if I just went to Florida and got married I'd be looking at this:

So, maybe I'm going to have to look for something besides the aesthetic to strengthen my resolve.

Like, say, this guy.

Saint Thomas Aquinas, Pray for us.

If self-help books didn't have such a terrible track-record I would buy it now.

Pray for me.

Today has not been my day, and tomorrow's not looking so good either.

Pax Christi

Em

Obsession #2 will be separated from me

by an estimated distance of 2,743 miles

for the next four months.

Considering we have scarcely been separated for an entire week since our courtship began . . . heck, since our friendship began (over 3 years ago) this is going to be a long and difficult time for us both. Fortunately, in December we will be together for three weeks - Christmas break.

After one more separation like this one I will graduate, and we will be married.

There IS a lot of light at the end of this tunnel,

but that still don't make it pleasant

(using my best mid-western grammar).

Please keep us in your prayers.

In the Peace of Christ,

Emily

Isn't this the sweetest baby? Here's hoping our kids look like their daddy. He's just adorable!

I just finished my last night of work at the grocery store in redneckville. Alleluiah!!!!

I'm very tired, and I have to get up kinda early. Goodnight.

Em

Ahhh, Missouri.

I love this state.

What's the name of that song???

Wow - this one has a ton of the old Sesame Street crew in it, and I remember the theme flawlessly. :)

Women and Redecorating

As any reader has noticed, I re-formatted my blog to new layout which is much more pleasing, aesthetically. This has made me very, very happy. I look at my blog a couple times a day, heaving a sigh of deep satisfaction. It's therapeutic.

Now, my inner scrutiny has pointed out that this is a rather odd thing for me to be so happy about. I mean, it's only an image in cyberspace.

But I think I've figured out what it is.

I'm a woman, and a rather romantic one at that. My environment has a heckuva lot to do with my state of mind. Now, although reformatting a blog is not really comparable to redecorating a living room, in a way it's something like it. I've redecorated my blog, and that pleases me a great deal.

I hope Obsession #2 doesn't find this terribly odd. One way he'll always be able to improve my spirits is to help me redecorate a room. ;) Small price to pay for such rewards, no?

Lots of luv to you all,
Em

P.S. - like my lavendar picture? Anyone who knows anything about me knows how much I love the stuff, and why. ;)

On Lethargy

I am a much more entertaining and happy individual when I'm on my little campus, aren't I? I was just reading over some of my old posts and my entries are downright interesting when my mind is forced to be that active . . .

This presents a dilemma. I have one year left on my intellectual health resort and then *boof* - - out I go, into the wide world. I'll be getting married and settling into the society I have to sink or swim in for the rest of my days. . . . Am I really going to lapse into mediocrity for the rest of my life? In the absense of deadlines, assignments, Don Rags, and my tutors am I going to become really, really mundane? I know I get that way when I go home for the summertime. Ahhhh! Noooo!!!! I must save me my mind from such a cruel, slow death! Ahhhh!!!!

*Okay* I'm not panicking. I can keep up an intellectual routine - I can focus my mind on the true, the good and the beautiful. I can do it, I say!

My mother laughs. 'Dirty diapers and grimy kitchen floors leave little room for reading a book, sweetie,' she chides. 'Don't set your heart on it.'

The worst part is that my mother is almost never wrong.

-?!-

Noooo!!!! I still want to remain intellectually active! I don't want to get mentally fat! I can handle getting physically fat - I mean, honestly, I'm already halfway there. Girlish figures are much easier to give up if you scarcely had one in the first place. But please, please, SOMEONE - - tell me that becoming a wife and mother isn't the doom of the rational growth inside my poor little animal self.

*whimper*

Obsession #2 is optimistic, says he thinks it's possible. But - - the word of doom has come forth from the almost-all-knowing oracle at Kitchen Stove.

Comments, anyone?

Pax Christi,

Em

Waffle House, Femininity, et cetera

A co-worker friend recently moved to a very posh sector of Kansas City - it's a certain wasteland of yuppie-dom in Johnson County, Kansas. Locals call it O.P., short for "Over-Priced" . . . or Overland Park . . . whichever - both are true appellations.

My friend has been less than satisfied with his upgrade. His biggest complaint is the complete absense of a Waffle House. I imagine there's some city code against nice people running dingy little time portals to 1975. He comes to chat with me on Saturdays over in redneckville where I work. If I can get off early we go to Waffle House (there are plenty of them over here), and he has some coffee.

We talk about a little of everything. This friendship is a very unusual one for me; over time I came to reject common associations as very likely opportunities for intellectual friendships, since so few people share an interest in truth. This fellow is different - he's a man of goodwill, and insofar as he accepts that there is truth, and recognizes that he is largely ignorant of it (a very Socratic trait), he is a philosopher. We sit in Waffle House and talk about philosophy, history, and society at large. It seems like a most unlikely place for such discussions, but I think that's part of what makes them so memorable.

I've been re-learning old lessons in love this week. Obsession #2 was rather downcast there for a while - he was treated like dirt by a prospective roomate, had two co-workers call in sick on him (leaving him babysitting the fishies for a good chunk of last weekend), and then his new car started smoking. On top of all the normal anxiety about moving out on his own and the general lack of sleep he was ready to snap, . . . and the only thing keeping that from happening was me and a sizeable chunck of e-g-o (of which he has always had a fair allottment).

I had to rediscover through experience some of those little things about womanly support which I had learned by indoctrination from my parents. In some ways the little feminine things are difficult for me - I'm a fighter by nature. When I happen upon these little things to say, and see how beneficial they are, I feel like I've found buried treasure. So, I'm thinking myself pretty accomplished right now. Maybe I'll really be able to do this wife thing pretty well after all. I'm so gol-derned independent sometimes . . . I have my little self-doubts. But I'm going to do my very best, dag nab it, and I guess that's all that really matters.

Well, anyhow, back to the ol' grindstone.

Love to you all,
Em