To my Professors;
While having what I thought was light a conversation with a student from the adjacent university, I became aware of an unique dynamic between myself and the other students (a.k.a. normal human beings). I call these people "other (or normal) students" because I estrange myself from them: I'm incapable of referring myself as part of them. I have a Napoleonic complex that Raskolnikov and I share: an egocentric outlook on life.
This confession is a big step. I often saw myself as a caring and kind person, willing to make sacrifices and irrational inconveniences for myself: instead of doing my homework thoroughly on the schedule I designed for myself, I will devote an hour to keeping someone company, losing an hour of sleep thus homework time. Instead of writing a paper, I will spend hours at the dinner table talking about a paper topic. These inconsistencies are often praised as imperfect traits of humanity, and because of this, I had once thought of myself as more unctuous and deferential and servile than those who waste their time on themselves. Now I see all my past actions as stupid, mean, and egocentric.
It's true that I've put a lot of time into my homework, but as I look back, I see that there have also been time wasted on empty endeavors such as taking a few more minutes to get back home from work, portions of time wasted as I waited for the time to transition from 4:00pm to 4:30pm, dinner time. All of this wasted time can not be excused. Though it may sound like I'm a drill sergeant expecting the top efficiency from my faculties, this school has required me to become so. And it has made me think more about who I am and who I should be.
The type of student that I am is a buffer. I like to understand the context of things and buffer those who do not: for instance, a friend of mine did not know a single thing about the Great Books. Instead of giving him an article about it, I spent the time and effort going through the important philosophers and educators that made the heavy contributions, starting with Alder, going through Hutchins, and ending with Barr. I also told him about the Syntopicon and the philosophy behind it, an added mile, yet since I found it interesting, I thought he might too. Fortunately, he did.
However, there is no judgement in knowing context. The type of student that I'm expected to be is a judge. This latter part of me has been beaten out of me by "good parenting," and I don't think I'll ever be a good judge: only because I'm stubbornly indecisive. I am a broad reader; I look at all the captions. When one of my thousands upon thousands of statements are questioned, I take it so seriously that I make such a dramatic introspective report for myself. After the facts have been checked, sometimes I conclude that the rebuking party is wrong; however, more times than not, I am wrong.
This leaves me in quite a dilemma. If I am wrong more often than not, do I keep silent or talk in hopes to learn? Though I often do the latter in private or in the company of friends, I rarely practice the prior in public: where it should matter.
For an example, I was approached by a student from the adjacent university with a comic strip. He asked one question and made one statement: "How would this fair in a ---- discussion?" He paused to make a statement to someone he found less intellectually rigorous: "Check out this new spin on Kafka."
The comic was of Kafka's Metamorphosis, where the main character turns into a bug and lives a good life. I, having the first question in mind, responded at the wrong time. I said, "That never happened." He called me out and asked if I were "trolling him": in this vernacular, he means to ask if I were arousing him with verbal irritation. The answer, honestly, is yes, of course; but I kept on him for he had touched a noble string in my heart where I felt it was rude of him for asking only ----ians what they thought of the comic -- as if we were a lower breed of thinkers who could not be creative enough to find value in the comic. I challenged him with pointing out notion.
Those around us were at a lost. They thought I was making a pointless argument. In reality, I felt rather offended by the individual who did little to acknowledge me until I approached him. He laughed at me and scorned me as I turned red with embarrassment. There wasn't anything in his words that persuaded me that ----ians were backwards for my misunderstanding of the situation, yet those around, who were also ----ians, never caught the subtext that may or may not have been imagined by me.
But then I thought about Tom Lindsay. He too had many people convinced that there was nothing wrong while others were differently convinced he was making the wrong decisions. Ultimately, the majority had decided that he was making the wrong decisions. But does that make the judgement true? It leads me into the questions of logic that IS2 made: can logic be complete as a whole? Is there an ultimate truth? The answer, of course, is no. There is no absolute logical system that completes everything: even arithmetic, which math is based on, is incomplete and can not be proved to be consistent.
Therefore, if there is overarching system that can be followed, how then can there be quantifiable goodness or badness? There can't. In that case, I am not better than anyone one, not in thought, word, or deed. And neither can anybody else. So then what?
The void of authority is scary. I could look at the immediate as an authority, which may be pragmatic of me, but how else do I approach the problem more intellectually? And more importantly, wisely?
Let me look to Aristotle, which does not shy from pragmatism. I can look at the active state of being happy. By finishing my homework to a very high standard, actively living in such a way that is cohesive to the whole of the community, I can begin my pursuit for the virtue of justice: this is a compromise I must take to be a happy, habitual human.
~Sam
While having what I thought was light a conversation with a student from the adjacent university, I became aware of an unique dynamic between myself and the other students (a.k.a. normal human beings). I call these people "other (or normal) students" because I estrange myself from them: I'm incapable of referring myself as part of them. I have a Napoleonic complex that Raskolnikov and I share: an egocentric outlook on life.
This confession is a big step. I often saw myself as a caring and kind person, willing to make sacrifices and irrational inconveniences for myself: instead of doing my homework thoroughly on the schedule I designed for myself, I will devote an hour to keeping someone company, losing an hour of sleep thus homework time. Instead of writing a paper, I will spend hours at the dinner table talking about a paper topic. These inconsistencies are often praised as imperfect traits of humanity, and because of this, I had once thought of myself as more unctuous and deferential and servile than those who waste their time on themselves. Now I see all my past actions as stupid, mean, and egocentric.
It's true that I've put a lot of time into my homework, but as I look back, I see that there have also been time wasted on empty endeavors such as taking a few more minutes to get back home from work, portions of time wasted as I waited for the time to transition from 4:00pm to 4:30pm, dinner time. All of this wasted time can not be excused. Though it may sound like I'm a drill sergeant expecting the top efficiency from my faculties, this school has required me to become so. And it has made me think more about who I am and who I should be.
The type of student that I am is a buffer. I like to understand the context of things and buffer those who do not: for instance, a friend of mine did not know a single thing about the Great Books. Instead of giving him an article about it, I spent the time and effort going through the important philosophers and educators that made the heavy contributions, starting with Alder, going through Hutchins, and ending with Barr. I also told him about the Syntopicon and the philosophy behind it, an added mile, yet since I found it interesting, I thought he might too. Fortunately, he did.
However, there is no judgement in knowing context. The type of student that I'm expected to be is a judge. This latter part of me has been beaten out of me by "good parenting," and I don't think I'll ever be a good judge: only because I'm stubbornly indecisive. I am a broad reader; I look at all the captions. When one of my thousands upon thousands of statements are questioned, I take it so seriously that I make such a dramatic introspective report for myself. After the facts have been checked, sometimes I conclude that the rebuking party is wrong; however, more times than not, I am wrong.
This leaves me in quite a dilemma. If I am wrong more often than not, do I keep silent or talk in hopes to learn? Though I often do the latter in private or in the company of friends, I rarely practice the prior in public: where it should matter.
For an example, I was approached by a student from the adjacent university with a comic strip. He asked one question and made one statement: "How would this fair in a ---- discussion?" He paused to make a statement to someone he found less intellectually rigorous: "Check out this new spin on Kafka."
The comic was of Kafka's Metamorphosis, where the main character turns into a bug and lives a good life. I, having the first question in mind, responded at the wrong time. I said, "That never happened." He called me out and asked if I were "trolling him": in this vernacular, he means to ask if I were arousing him with verbal irritation. The answer, honestly, is yes, of course; but I kept on him for he had touched a noble string in my heart where I felt it was rude of him for asking only ----ians what they thought of the comic -- as if we were a lower breed of thinkers who could not be creative enough to find value in the comic. I challenged him with pointing out notion.
Those around us were at a lost. They thought I was making a pointless argument. In reality, I felt rather offended by the individual who did little to acknowledge me until I approached him. He laughed at me and scorned me as I turned red with embarrassment. There wasn't anything in his words that persuaded me that ----ians were backwards for my misunderstanding of the situation, yet those around, who were also ----ians, never caught the subtext that may or may not have been imagined by me.
But then I thought about Tom Lindsay. He too had many people convinced that there was nothing wrong while others were differently convinced he was making the wrong decisions. Ultimately, the majority had decided that he was making the wrong decisions. But does that make the judgement true? It leads me into the questions of logic that IS2 made: can logic be complete as a whole? Is there an ultimate truth? The answer, of course, is no. There is no absolute logical system that completes everything: even arithmetic, which math is based on, is incomplete and can not be proved to be consistent.
Therefore, if there is overarching system that can be followed, how then can there be quantifiable goodness or badness? There can't. In that case, I am not better than anyone one, not in thought, word, or deed. And neither can anybody else. So then what?
The void of authority is scary. I could look at the immediate as an authority, which may be pragmatic of me, but how else do I approach the problem more intellectually? And more importantly, wisely?
Let me look to Aristotle, which does not shy from pragmatism. I can look at the active state of being happy. By finishing my homework to a very high standard, actively living in such a way that is cohesive to the whole of the community, I can begin my pursuit for the virtue of justice: this is a compromise I must take to be a happy, habitual human.
~Sam
My favorite part of this is your definition of trolling as to "arouse one with verbal irritation". Such a golden definition! :D
ReplyDeleteAw, Sam. I admire your conscientiousness. But I also think that your past behavior stemmed from placing others' needs above yours, and just harshly criticizing that behavior is still being too hard on yourself. Understand yourself, but don't forget to love yourself first. The rest follows. You're such a wonderful person! Much love.
ReplyDeleteOr, as the Buddhists would say, accept your flaws by holding them tenderly in your hands.
ReplyDelete