Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Panic! at the University
Not funny, I know.
So I just read some huge chunks of Kant's Third Critique, which talks about making aesthetic and teleological judgments. I think I actually understood it, which is great.
But now I can't remember what you're supposed to say about philosophy. When you write about books and movies, you talk about the things that are in them; there's no right or wrong. As one of my professors often says (and I think I will be saying or thinking this for the rest of my life), "Henry James said, 'In the arts, feeling is always meaning.'" And even if that's not true, just pick any number of critical perspectives and go at the text, and it works out.
Philosophy is totally different, though. I'm not sure I have intelligent questions about it. Kant seems right to me (as he does to everybody at this university), and even if he didn't, who am I to think I could come up with a decent argument against him. I guess I'll just try to relate it to Goethe somehow, which is what the class is about, anyway...
So I just read some huge chunks of Kant's Third Critique, which talks about making aesthetic and teleological judgments. I think I actually understood it, which is great.
But now I can't remember what you're supposed to say about philosophy. When you write about books and movies, you talk about the things that are in them; there's no right or wrong. As one of my professors often says (and I think I will be saying or thinking this for the rest of my life), "Henry James said, 'In the arts, feeling is always meaning.'" And even if that's not true, just pick any number of critical perspectives and go at the text, and it works out.
Philosophy is totally different, though. I'm not sure I have intelligent questions about it. Kant seems right to me (as he does to everybody at this university), and even if he didn't, who am I to think I could come up with a decent argument against him. I guess I'll just try to relate it to Goethe somehow, which is what the class is about, anyway...
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Guts
So that professor, the one who pretty much humiliated that girl? Well, I went to talk to him today. No, not about that. I finally got up the nerve not only to answer a question during class - he had prefaced his question by saying there was no wrong answer - but to ask him a "serious" question afterwards. And guess what? He was extremely nice. After answering my questions, he asked me about why I'm here, my background, where I think I'm heading. And it wasn't phrased in the way that so many people around here phrase things, which always implies, "Are you really supposed to be here?" He even knew my undergrad university and was able to commiserate about how limiting a school like that can be.
But of course, now that I'm looking back, I'm incredibly anxious. Did I say something stupid and not even realize it? Was he just humoring me the whole time? He seemed really interested in talking to me. He encouraged conversation when he could have ended it any time. It wasn't even during his office hours. I wish I could just be content, knowing that we had a decent conversation, and that I can feel free to talk to him in the future.
Anyway, it felt like writing these thoughts out might help, and maybe it has.
But of course, now that I'm looking back, I'm incredibly anxious. Did I say something stupid and not even realize it? Was he just humoring me the whole time? He seemed really interested in talking to me. He encouraged conversation when he could have ended it any time. It wasn't even during his office hours. I wish I could just be content, knowing that we had a decent conversation, and that I can feel free to talk to him in the future.
Anyway, it felt like writing these thoughts out might help, and maybe it has.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Please Stop
This is an open letter to everyone who lives in Chicago.
Dear Chicago drivers,
Do you really think that the proper way to exit an alley, particularly the one out my bedroom window, is to honk and just keep going? Any time of night or day, you really believe this is the rule? Let me set the record straight: There has never existed and will never exist a rule for driving which says this. Stop. Look both ways for pedestrians. Then go.
Please, please, please stop honking. Please? I tried to write to my alderman, but she said all they can do is put up a speed-limit sign, that stop signs aren't allowed in alleys. So there, I tried to be nice about it, I tried the legal route, but I might have to start going crazy on your asses.
Would it help if I passed out fliers and put them on all your cars? Would it help if I smashed your windshield, like some crazy person did to the car sitting out in front of my building that's been parked three-quarters of a car-length away from the bus stop zone? If I asked nicely, would you stop? If I held up a sign all day saying "Please don't honk any more" would consider it or just try to run me over?
I don't have money to bribe you and I won't have sex with you to make you stop, but I'd be willing to do some things. Just ask.
Love,
Dear Chicago drivers,
Do you really think that the proper way to exit an alley, particularly the one out my bedroom window, is to honk and just keep going? Any time of night or day, you really believe this is the rule? Let me set the record straight: There has never existed and will never exist a rule for driving which says this. Stop. Look both ways for pedestrians. Then go.
Please, please, please stop honking. Please? I tried to write to my alderman, but she said all they can do is put up a speed-limit sign, that stop signs aren't allowed in alleys. So there, I tried to be nice about it, I tried the legal route, but I might have to start going crazy on your asses.
Would it help if I passed out fliers and put them on all your cars? Would it help if I smashed your windshield, like some crazy person did to the car sitting out in front of my building that's been parked three-quarters of a car-length away from the bus stop zone? If I asked nicely, would you stop? If I held up a sign all day saying "Please don't honk any more" would consider it or just try to run me over?
I don't have money to bribe you and I won't have sex with you to make you stop, but I'd be willing to do some things. Just ask.
Love,
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Primer & Get Well Soon
Primer
I'm sure this film won first place at a university film festival somewhere, but it has no business being on Netflix. If you can't understand their version of time travel from the voiceover explanations, you certainly won't get any help from what's happening on screen. These college kids had a decent idea for a movie, but the terrible acting, mediocre dialog and obviously low budget didn't add up to anything worth watching.
Get Well Soon
You should only see this movie if you're a big Vincent Gallo fan, and I happen to be one of those lucky few. There are actually some pretty funny moments, thanks to him, but the rest of the film is full of cheesy acting and a pretty terrible plot. And who would ever believe Courtney Cox and Vincent Gallo as a couple?
I'm sure this film won first place at a university film festival somewhere, but it has no business being on Netflix. If you can't understand their version of time travel from the voiceover explanations, you certainly won't get any help from what's happening on screen. These college kids had a decent idea for a movie, but the terrible acting, mediocre dialog and obviously low budget didn't add up to anything worth watching.
Get Well Soon
You should only see this movie if you're a big Vincent Gallo fan, and I happen to be one of those lucky few. There are actually some pretty funny moments, thanks to him, but the rest of the film is full of cheesy acting and a pretty terrible plot. And who would ever believe Courtney Cox and Vincent Gallo as a couple?
Friday, October 12, 2007
Sharks
You know how I know this is a cut-throat program? The other day in class - and this is a lecture with around 150 people in it, including every person in my program, the two directors of the program, and our preceptors (PhD students who lead our discussion groups) - we were talking about a play we had all gone to see, and the lecturer asked something along the lines of, "What do you think the director was trying to do by staging the play in such a way that it blurred the lines between the time in which it was written and present-day?" A woman raised her hand and responded something like this: "I think she was trying to make us realize the importance and relevance of the play for a modern audience, to help us understand that the themes apply to our culture, not just that of Roman times."
Okay, now, I know enough not to give this response. It's the easy response to "Why are the arts important?" But it could just as easily have been a question to which I didn't know the answer, and thought I did. This woman could have been me.
The lecturer said, smiling, "Well, um, any time someone makes a comment like that I - like Nietzsche said - I reach for my gun," and he made the blowing-my-brains-out gesture. But that wasn't what made me realize that no one here cares about any other person's success or well being. It was this: Almost everyone in the lecture hall laughed. I could feel humiliation burning my tear ducts and my temples, turning my face red. I can't imagine that that did anything less than break that woman's spirit. I watched her for the rest of the class, and she kept shaking her head at what he was saying, with a sneer on her face, and making comments to the person sitting next to her, loud enough so that I could hear. Things like, "That's not what he said before."
I'm just going to keep my head down, write my papers, and only raise my hand if I'm sure I know the answer.
Okay, now, I know enough not to give this response. It's the easy response to "Why are the arts important?" But it could just as easily have been a question to which I didn't know the answer, and thought I did. This woman could have been me.
The lecturer said, smiling, "Well, um, any time someone makes a comment like that I - like Nietzsche said - I reach for my gun," and he made the blowing-my-brains-out gesture. But that wasn't what made me realize that no one here cares about any other person's success or well being. It was this: Almost everyone in the lecture hall laughed. I could feel humiliation burning my tear ducts and my temples, turning my face red. I can't imagine that that did anything less than break that woman's spirit. I watched her for the rest of the class, and she kept shaking her head at what he was saying, with a sneer on her face, and making comments to the person sitting next to her, loud enough so that I could hear. Things like, "That's not what he said before."
I'm just going to keep my head down, write my papers, and only raise my hand if I'm sure I know the answer.
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