. . . . . entries for 31.12.05 . . . . .
Wow. Just got pictures developed that were taken at the X-C state meet. o.O Freaky.
So if someone's feeling particularly AMAZING, they can find me a site where I can download FFIX FMVs with no strings attached (like having to log into some forum I have never heard of). Yeah. Totally.
My Disc I skipped the last FMV on the disc, the pretty one with Kuja. :( Kujaaaaa.
Susan is my love! . . . along with a lot of other people and things, but that is completely beside the point.
That was a *special* duck.
Best song ever in the sidebar. :)
Oh Jesus, why!?
(I got a friends request from that. QIT, man? QIT?)
ZOMG THRE
New years plans are insane. Oh man. At least I'm being social?
. . . . . entries for 30.12.05 . . . . .
I slept exceptionally badly last night. I blame the chocolate cake. Evil cake! Grr.
I had a dream in which Bloom taught chemistry, and high school kids still had recess. This was around, say, nine or ten in the morning, at which juncture I was sleeping decently but had to get up. -.- Good times.
This is pretty entertaining, but is also pretty certain that I look like Emma Watson. I don't trust it. :P
. . . . . entries for 29.12.05 . . . . .
I don't know about you, but I think this looks pretty sweet. I have to have my application in by January 20th, recommmendations and all.
But sweet baby Jesus on a stick, I want to go.
. . . . . entries for 28.12.05 . . . . .
Cas be in the airport, bound for BWI. We got haircuts today. Wooooo haircuts. My hair is not much shorter or otherwise different, but feels less scraggly. Cassie's hair is mildly highlit about the top. It does not pop out at the observer, but is rather sort of subtly radiant. She looks quite lovely.
And she did not look fat in that coat. -.- (Don't ask.)
Reminder to me: doing something on Friday at 1:00. Do not forget!
. . . . . entries for 27.12.05 . . . . .
Oh boy, oh boy!
Cas and I were girls today. Went to Friendly's for lunch and ate repulsive food, observed the inferior nature of the scarves everywhere we went, and shopped at ye olde Croße Gaytes.
"I should totally start making scarves and selling them."
Yes, Cassie. Yes you should.
So, she got a red felt scarf, because not everything can be knit.
"I could totally kick ass."
Yes, Cassie. Yes you could.
She also got a couple of pairs of "career" capris, which emphasize her big butt in a good way.
I got an outfit from Cohoes which is really quite remarkable. The shirt has the kind of color scheme I thoroughly enjoy - almost analogous, but missing that one crucial step (something more turquoise) so that it looks very loud and abrupt. Cas described the pattern on it as Van Gogh-y, and forsooth! it sort of is. It is crinkly and ruffly and collared and button-up and translucent, and overall quite remarkable.
To go with this shirt, I have chartreuse flowy capris. They are *quite* remarkable as well.
. . . . . entries for 26.12.05 . . . . .
Wow.
The new King Kong is an AMAZING movie.
Nothing changes on New Years' Day, they say. (Nothing changes on Christmas either.)
. . . . . entries for 25.12.05 . . . . .
. . . sweet mother of mercy. I guess I'll *not* post this conversation, but know this: people friggin' AMAZE me sometimes. (Oh, I'd get in so much trouble. I'd get this person in so much trouble. I wonder if it would be worth it.)
What an *incredible* dumbass.
. . . and to all, a good night.
. . . and Cassie forgot: a knit blue-green choker. Sehr schön. :) I like forgotten presents.
And I forgot: the olive green stretch velvet tank top. :)
The opening of presents has been done! Admittedly, Cassie had some amazing stuff in the works for me.
. . . but I don't feel like telling you what it was. :P You'll see in good time. She did not get me green curry, which is tragic, but she said she'd get me some eventually. I will hold you to that, Katherine Anne!
I did get other good stuff, such as Maura O'Connell's Blue is the Colour of Hope album. I love Maura. She makes me glow inside. (I knew I was getting the CD, but I still love it. Also knew I was getting a pretty green sweater, which is my color.)
Also on the list of acquisitions: Van Gogh Starry Night nightlight from the Larsons, pretty glass three-string necklace from the Needlepeople, kickass shearling boots and brown corduroys from the parents, CD-Rs from Uncle Eggy, a plethora of socks and stockings from Cassie, a black mage t-shirt from Colin, a not-quite-acquired-yet pair of ARGUE pants from Shannon, makeup (wie immer) and Monet cards from Dad, Victor van Dort from Natalie, a ten-dollar Barnes and Noble giftcard from Kochiemonster and I *think* that's everything. o.O
. . . why do I list things?
Anyway. Thank you, people. Have a pleasant December 25th, whatever you're up to. And HAPPY VACATION. :D
Merry Christmas to all! . . .
. . . . . entries for 24.12.05 . . . . .
So far, all Christmaspresenty things have been from Cassie - wasabi cashews (mmmmm), knitting lessons, and this totally Cassie stop reading over my shoulder you goofball.
"But, but, you didn't mention THIS! . . . or my gift to you, the knowledge of sweet baby Jesus on a stick."
The "this" at hand is this totally awesome scarf and headband set that she knit for me. I will wear them in school at the earliest possible convenience. It is an extremely pretty yarn. Cassie says she has something better in store for Christmas itself. I do not believe her. :P (It's really pretty.)
. . . . . entries for 23.12.05 . . . . .
. . . and yeah, Cassie's coming home in like two hours. :P
Okay, I lied, that's not the best thing ever. This is.
Note for the perplexed, bewildered and ecstatic: NORAD is an official United States military command. How awesome is that?
Okay, I know I should keep this to myself to be all indie and cool, but it's just the BEST THING EVER. So enjoy. (Read from the beginning, and do not be offended. Honestly, if you plan on being offended at anything ever for the rest of your life, just. . . stop.)
Hey, Charlie!
Natalie just got me you for Christmas.
. . . and by you I mean a Victor van Dort plushie, who looks just like you. He looks kind of sadly surprised, though, which I don't think you'd ever really do. Oh well. He's very bendy and emo.
Poor Victor. Don't cry.
Also got a bunch of food from people. God I will be so fat by the end of break. :(
. . . . . entries for 22.12.05 . . . . .
It would be funny to have an entirely long-distance blogmass. That way I could blog about local people and my own evil schemes with regard to them without worrying about who would read it.
Hm. It's an idea.
I sometimes think my blog has gotten boring. Then I realize it was really never all that interesting in the first place.
The presents have been handed out, with the exception of Natalie's (didn't see her) and Phase II of Colin's. There shall be a time for them. Hoyes.
Extra chocolate went to Belle because she's quite amazing and Kaplan because everyone loves him. And his dog ate his chocolate. How awful is that? (Also, Kaplan invites hugs. So few people do that. o.O)
TOMORROW. IS. THE. LAST. DAY. Oh dear God I need this vacation.
. . . . . entries for 21.12.05 . . . . .
Ah damn it, I do not feel like I should have homework.
The NHS earth science department would like to wish you and your families a very happy winter solstice.
I want AP Earth Science. :(
Susan + Shannon - remember that weird pear chocolate bar I got while we were shopping? Found it going through presents today. It is tasty, but pangs more of banana than of pear. o.O Figure that one out.
Colin's mommy's banana bread was better. Mmm.
Anyway. On a related note, all gifts are wrapped. Bringing in said gifts, aside from Phase II of Colin's gift (which is heavy and fragile), tomorrow. If you are reading this and go to NHS, you are either getting a present, or I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate one if I gave it to you *hemhemMATTHEWhem*.
. . . . . entries for 20.12.05 . . . . .
PSAT score above last year's National Merit Scholarship cutoff. So all's well. :)
Bringing in presents tomorrow. >.> Maybe.
. . . . . entries for 19.12.05 . . . . .
The song game! Tell me which songs these lines are from (first fifteen with words when ye olde library is in shuffle mode):
1: "It's harder to be friends than lovers, and you shouldn't try to mix the two, 'cause if you do it and you're still unhappy, then you know that the problem is you"
2: "Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine (one two three four five six seven eight nine o'clock), precisely"
3: "Jesus don't speak English, but I do think I understand the rhyme and the reason of the goody-goody gentleman"
4: "We've been waiting all night, I can feel a strange attraction; now it's getting light, but I can't spur you into action"
5: "So the administration, not too many years ago, they changed the situation: now all can afford to go"
6: "But do you believe in something beautiful? Then get up and be it"
7: "A friend in need's a friend indeed, a friend who'll tease is better; our thoughts compressed, which makes us blessed, and makes for stormy weather"
8: "Do you wanna have fun? How about a few laughs? I can show you a good time"
9: "Got my red glitter coffin, man, just need one last nail"
10: "Up where the mountains meet the heaven above, or where the lightning splits the sea, I could swear that there's someone, somewhere, watching me"
11: "The sound of gunfire off in the distance; I'm getting used to it now"
12: "He is my light, he's my salvation; he's always right, he's always patient"
13: "Can't you ever treat anyone nice? I think I'm gonna make the same mistake twice"
14: "And I can't let it rain at my daddy's farm 'til I get it all stacked up high in the farm"
15: "Let's do this like a prison break, I wanna see you squeal and shake."
Bleeding Kansas: Baked Alaska for emo kids.
. . . sorry. xD
In other news: cookies. Cookies are excellent. Especially when left in the cookie jar on the radiator. So they are warm. Like they were baked five minutes ago. Mmm. . . cookies.
Monster sidebar = trimmed. Eventually I'm gonna have to take the archive off that sucker, or get a second sidebar. I am so not skilled enough for that. Laaaaazy. >.o Man.
APUSH reading APUSH reading APUSH reading.
. . . damn, it's scary how long my sidebar is.
It feels like it should be break - like now, man. Like NOW. Zomg.
Got back my Sleepy Hollow thing at long last. -.- Jesus H. Christ, that woman takes forever to grade things. Ah well. Some things never change.
PSAT results tomorrow. O.O FINALLY. God.
And yeah, I'm a nerd so I have nothing that's actually interesting to say. My sincerest apologies. :P
. . . . . entries for 17.12.05 . . . . .
Narnia was amazing.
I am damn close, if not completely, finished with my Christmas shopping. Huzzah! :)
I am *not* damn close to finishing my Psychonauts character for tomorrow. Alas. :( I will have to do that when I get home from Narnia/tomorrow morning. Rar. I don't even have the skills/feats lists. It is sad.
The orca set out to ruin the penguin's day
He was still sanguine, just in a different way
Well, blog, I don't know if I've told you lately, but people really fucking *amaze* me sometimes. -.-
. . . . . entries for 16.12.05 . . . . .
That I welcome each weekend like it's a lifetime of freedom is, I suppose, a little weird. Oh well.
IT'S THE FUCKING WEEKEND. WAHOO!
In other news, the tournament at CBA is cancelled. (Again.) We're gonna have to kick their asses soon, I swear. I wanted my goddamn bid! Grrr.
. . . ah well. More sleep for me. ^_____^
. . . . . entries for 15.12.05 . . . . .
Pajamas inside-out, kids. :P I don't want to take my goddamn precalc test.
Jennifer Lopez freaks me out. Her face is pretty - not sublimely beautiful or anything, but pretty - but her body is like. . . Plato's shiny ethereal form of WOMAN. Creeeeeeepy.
. . . . . entries for 14.12.05 . . . . .
OWNED!
Okay, so Shannon and I are going to play through the entirety of FFX this Christmas break. Because we are going to have TIME, damn it. MWAHAHAHAA! (I hope. >.o)
For someone who doesn't do her math homework, I certainly have an HONORABLE quarter grade. Take that, Stockwell! MWAHAHAHAAA!
Yes. Today, I think, is a good day.
This makes me smile.
Erin
From Ireland : Irish
You are both a visionary and a realist able to bring your dreams into a tangible form. Pioneering and ambitious you accept new challenges and the responsibilities which go with them willingly. Your sound judgement, resourcefulness and positive nature means that your progress in life is assured. Certainly your kindness and generosity to others and your inspirational manner attract success as well as many admirers.
It comes from this website. Have a go, it's pretty exciting - and it got my dear Pirate Dan damn near perfectly.
I <3 my Jackson paper.
. . . . . entries for 13.12.05 . . . . .
I actually kind of like my Jackson essay. This is a refreshing change from the Jefferson paper, but I do not account for it according to the subjects of the writing. I am pretty sure, by the claim-warrant-impact structure evident in this essay, that it is debate's fault. Ms. Moore asked us today if we had hobbies, and I said yes, I argue for fun and profit. It got me some strange looks. It is, I have decided, more or less a good hobby.
Wikipedia is very entertaining. I may one day immerse myself in its seething mass of maybe-reliable information and delight in the random factoids I find within. (This will be when I have free time, which is not happening in the foreseeable future.)
Decided last block today that I am signing up for both Latin AP and 4H. At the same time. It's rather likely that German 5AP will be canceled anyway, so this will keep me up to my two language classes. If 5AP isn't canceled, then, well, damn, more fun for me, right? AP Latin is Vergil next year. That's a lot of lines of super-fun translation. :P O Aeneid. How I love thee.
In other news: I have that "Who deserves the $20?" essay to write tonight. IMAGINE MY UNENDING JOY. >.o Ah me.
How will I survive junior year?
. . . . . entries for 12.12.05 . . . . .
Next weekend is looking about as busy as this last one was. I am not entirely sure how I am going to pull this sort of schedule off for the rest of the year - in other words, I won't be able to. Example: APUSH paper due Wednesday. Haven't started it. Stupid stupid *stupid.* I cannot keep doing this.
Currently: English paper on Thoreau and Atwood and their theories of language. Bah, I say. Bah, bah, bah, I say to thee!
. . . . . entries for 11.12.05 . . . . .
Bah, school. Bah, a big APUSH test and a math quiz. Bah, an infringement upon my preferred sleep schedule. Bah, bah, bah, I say to thee!
Oh yeah. Erin Sherman the debate nerd is going to the mall. Take your moment of shock and amazement and go, please. GOD. :P
. . . . . entries for 10.12.05 . . . . .
I have a newly-acquired bludgeoning instrument. It is a rectangular prism, about 6x4x3/4, with sharp edges, fairly heavy - hence, bludgeoning. It is black marble, with little green felt things stuck to one face of it, presumably to avoid stratching the attractively reflective surface when one lays the bludgeoning instrument down. The face opposite bears a black plastic plate, upon which is described, in gold letters (around font size 18, I'd suppose):
Holiday Tournament
Debate & Speech
Albany High School
December, 2005
(curly ornamentation here)
Junior Varsity Lincoln Douglas
1ST PLACE
. . . complete with bold and all-caps.
It is a lovely little blugdeoning instrument indeed. I am very tired. Apologies for not going to Sarah's party, I am just too goddamn out of it. Went to bed at one this morning and woke up at five thirty. Been out all day. TEH SUCK. Yes.
Shopping tomorrow. o.o
DEBAAAAAAATE
. . . . . entries for 9.12.05 . . . . .
. . . snowdays are kind of boring. :P So is trying to think of a value criterion for this damn case.
Happy snowday, everyone! ^.^
I dreamt oddly, but well. There was curry, and a lot of people I knew, including my parents and, for whatever reason, Jerehme. o.O (Actually, I'm pretty sure I know why he was there. The curry was on the *pizza.* He is the only person I know of who has ever consumed curry in this fashion. We commiserated about how tame the spices were.)
I think I had a completely different dream before that, and I think it was good too, but I'll be damned if I know what it was about.
Agenda: Goof off, write cases, goof off some more, perhaps light up the fireplace, cook something aromatic and wintry. It is a *snowday,* damn it. xD Woo!
. . . . . entries for 8.12.05 . . . . .
. . . in other, marginally less nerdy news, I have a quiz on matrices and a test on the Jacksonian era tomorrow. (Thoreau will be on the latter, one way or another. :P Oh yes.) I made a point of acquiring some caffeine today that I may study like a maniac.
On Saturday, I have a) a debate tournament for which I must be at the high school by 7:15 AM, and b) a birthday party for which I should be at the Golden Phoenix sometime around 6:30. Before the former comes to pass, I must write cases for it. I will end up doing this on Friday after school, and will require caffeine, and it will drive me crazy. By Sunday, I will be thoroughly mad, therefore.
And on Sunday, I go shopping with Susan and Shannon at Colonie Center around 10 in the morning 'til God only knows when. Then I have homework.
Wear your pajamas inside-out.
We talked about almost the *exact content* of my rhetorical journal entry in class today. I should just teach the class. (But then everyone might hate me and accuse me of being pregnant [again], like they do Ms. Moore.) This is what I wrote. If you do not take a bizarre interest in Thoreau/Thoreau sucking/religion/language/whateverthehell, then. . . don't read it. (Not that you were going to anyway. :P I wonder why I post this stuff sometimes.)
“Those who have not learned to read the ancient classics in the language in which they were written must have a very imperfect knowledge of the history of the human race; for it is remarkable that no transcript of them has ever been made into any modern tongue, unless our civilization itself may be regarded as such a transcript. Homer has never yet been printed in English, nor Æschylus, nor Virgil even — works as refined, as solidly done, and as beautiful almost as the morning itself; for later writers, say what we will of their genius, have rarely, if ever, equalled the elaborate beauty and finish and the lifelong and heroic literary labors of the ancients. They only talk of forgetting them who never knew them. It will be soon enough to forget them when we have the learning and the genius which will enable us to attend to and appreciate them. That age will be rich indeed when those relics which we call Classics, and the still older and more than classic but even less known Scriptures of the nations, shall have still further accumulated, when the Vaticans shall be filled with Vedas and Zendavestas and Bibles, with Homers and Dantes and Shakespeares, and all the centuries to come shall have successively deposited their trophies in the forum of the world. By such a pile we may hope to scale heaven at last.”
-Reading, p. 67-68
Personal Analysis:
It seems prudent to first note that I read this passage before receiving this assignment, and that without being told to keep my eye out for the catching, that last sentence had it soundly in its figurative bell jar before I could do anything to prevent it. I have a casual curiosity with regard to Babel and its implications, as much due to the influence of another book I’ve read (Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson) as due to my personal interest in language as a discipline and, ultimately, one particularly important leg of a long career path.
This paragraph is, to a reader who is not cognizant of the Babel phenomenon, little more than a stream of praise for classical literature, particularly in its original language. Thoreau’s thoughts on the subject have lost some of their potency over the years, since we now have more translations of classics into modern languages than we know what to do with. In his own era, however, I think these words held a certain truth; not only the writers he mentioned, but, I would imagine, many other ancient poets and historians had not yet had their works translated. These writings alone were the records from their times, and as such were history. His high opinion of the works themselves is not factually supported to the reader, but glorified with poetic words - “elaborate,” “refined,” “heroic,” “genius,” and, of course, “beautiful.” In this reading, then, the passage is actually not that interesting, but may induce a reader to roll his or her eyes at the author’s academic yet apparently unfounded opinion.
Thoreau speaks of a chunk missing from most modern lives, and that chunk consists of ancient knowledge and language, which, for better or for worse, he seems to find superior to their modern parallels. For all of his writings against blind adherence to the norms of society, Thoreau expresses here his way of “scaling heaven;” he is a fanatic of his own religion. He worships the literary gods of ancient Greece, Rome, Persia, China and India, and seems to think everyone else should be eager to do the same. In this way, he has become like the religious sects he would seem naturally averse to, given his transcendentalist ideals. Surely, a man as well-read as himself could not have unknowingly referenced Babel, in the event of which mankind, in the act of attempting to build a tower to heaven, was struck down by God’s wrath, and commenced speaking in various languages, each man unintelligible to the other; surely Thoreau was aware of the implication he was making, that if man followed a path involving the acquisition of knowledge, he would thereby gain the favor of his Creator and land his own personal stairway to heaven. This reading of the passage, unlike the previous, fascinates me beyond description, not because it is a particularly sound endorsement of classic-worship, but because it seems to be a chink in Thoreau’s ideological armor that some people overlook, or, perhaps, purposefully ignore.
It would be unjust to neglect mention of a third reading, which may or may not be appropriate to the time period of the mid-nineteenth century. The “Babel phenomenon” is an academic term used to describe the tendency of languages to diverge. Although many general rules have been written for the construction of a human language, there has never been such a rule without exception. If this observation had been made by Thoreau’s time, or if he were one of its early architects, he could have been using the reference to biblical Babel to make a point about the Babel phenomenon, i.e. that modern languages have diverged from the original tongues, and are therefore less fit to write, read, and learn from.
Analysis of Literary Elements and Rhetorical Devices:
The element of allusion, the main use of which is largely covered in the above paragraph, is vital to the understanding of this passage. The allusion to Babel, in the biblical sense, appears only in the last sentence: “By such a pile we may hope to scale heaven at last.” Earlier in the passage, another interesting allusion is made: classic writers undertook “heroic literary labors,” a reference to the labors of ancient Greek and Roman heroes, especially Hercules.
The first of these allusions is fairly straightforward, and serves to glorify the ancient poets of which Thoreau writes. It is thereby an extension on the theme of the passage as a whole. Interestingly enough, however, the idea of the “heroic labor” is most commonly associated with a revered but thoroughly unintelligent figure, Hercules. To compare the ingenious scribes of yore with this simple man bears a pang of ironic antithesis which it seems that Thoreau failed to notice, since it undermines his overall message.
The second allusion is more complex, and of a somewhat religious nature. Babel, as mentioned above, is a Biblical event through which God demonstrates his displeasure with mankind by cursing them to speak in different languages, i.e. to babble. God does this in reaction to the construction of the tower of Babel, an enormous edifice designed to reach the heavens. Thoreau claims that a tower created of ancient literature and, interestingly, scriptures, would be allowed to reach heaven; in other words, God would look favorably upon a civilization which principally sought knowledge for its own sake. It seems unlikely that this allusion and its effect were accidental, although they, too, bring an acute irony to Thoreau’s transcendentalist piece of literature, which so ardently waves the flag of self-determination even as it preaches the apparently religious value of reading ancient literature in ancient tongues. The possibility of this allusion as an oblique means of supporting his high opinion of classical literature and language by means of referencing the Babel phenomenon also exists, as covered above.
Two other devices present here, which frequently go hand-in-hand, are imagery and symbolism. The last two sentences of the passage paint an image of Thoreau’s ideal future, in which “the Vaticans” (another religious term) will be filled with classical (and therefore worthy) literature. These “trophies in the forum of the world,” more glorification along with a subtle allusion to ancient Rome, will allow us to “scale heaven at last,” which gives the impression of a great wealth of knowledge, and brings to mind images of gigantic libraries. Classical literature functions throughout this passage as a symbol for knowledge and truth, since, according to Thoreau, its reading is one of the best methods through which to obtain that knowledge. Imagery and symbolism together cause the reader to believe, as the author did, that this future is both possible and preferable; this was obviously intended, and quite well done at that.
. . . . . entries for 7.12.05 . . . . .
It may just be that I'm enormously nerdy, but I swear, I kind of *like* doing these rhetorical journal entry things. (It may just be that I get to suggest Thoreau is an academic fanatic in this particular one, or that I ramble about Babel - haa - but hey, jedem Tierchen sein Plaisirchen.)
. . . I have German homework too. Eh, it won't take that long. Tonight may be the last convenient night for sleep in a little while, so I'd better take what I can get.
. . . . . entries for 6.12.05 . . . . .
I finally found my ARGUE pants! xD I am tempted to put out a line for the debate team. Tack it onto the Christmas list, and if you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, ask me.
So I want my goddamn PSAT results. Yes. Yes I do.
I do not want to write a judicial activism case. Not even a little. -.- I might run someone else's at Albany, since it's the last tournament on this resolution anyway. And I'll be in JV. Honestly. xD Who cares?
First and foremost: Colin rocks for baking me pumpkin seeds. He really did not have to do that. They are deliiiiicious - even if it is December. xD
Other than that, I actually had a basically unremarkable day. Again. Woo. o.O
. . . . . entries for 5.12.05 . . . . .
Soooo yeah. AIM hates me. If you desperately need to contact me this evening, call me or PM me or drive to my house and ring my doorbell - in that order of preference. o.O
I am so going to write a transcendentalist kritik on the next resolution. A kritik is so the best way to take this neg, too. *So* the best way. xD I amaze myself. And for the aff, I am *SO* carding Cryptonomicon. You don't even know. YOU. DON'T. EVEN. KNOW.
. . . man, I hope Ms. Moore gets my damn book back to me. >.o
So I actually wrote a story. Like, a story story. It is the fault of the Gaian avatar contest, of all things. o.O I might submit it to Niskart. I might tweak it for OI at some local tournament. We will see.
Harum.
. . . . . entries for 4.12.05 . . . . .
Comment here if you feel the need to bitch about how my layout is hurting your eyes. :P Pansies!
It's done now. So now I'll do, uh, my other APUSH. o.O Jesus.
. . . ah, bugger, I'm not finished. xD I have to "make a judgment" on the first paragraph. Damn you and your purple ink, Mr. Bloom! Damn yooooou! (In a nice way. Really.)
And here is my John C. Calhoun reaction paper - FINISHED. (I am such a history nerd. SUCH. A history nerd. I love it. Ah me.)
Before I commence thoroughly ridiculous reactions to the John C. Calhoun chapter, I have a more general comment on the entirety of Hofstadter’s The American Political Tradition. It is an observation particularly well-suited to this chapter, titled, as it is, “John C. Calhoun: The Marx of the Master Class.” Due in part, I am sure, to when it was written, this book focuses quite a lot on concepts one could relate back to Marx. To me, this makes it both a frustrating and a fascinating read. I am of the personal opinion that stage theory and other methodical lenses seriously hinder the study of history, because one is always trying to put something into a box in which it does not necessarily fit. Since this book was written by one looking through that glass as a fact of life, it presents an interesting challenge to the reader: To figure out to oneself how fit the box is to hold its contents, based upon one’s own knowledge of both objects. Unfortunately, I am not as well-educated on the topics of John C. Calhoun or Karl Marx as I could be, and feel myself unfit, as of now, to evaluate the legitimacy of the point of view of Hofstadter’s book. Because of this, I can’t help but be a bit uneasy about reading it, and have a feeling that with every word I am being misled by the author into a mindset which his generation essentially created to enhance their own understanding of a different period of history.
Now, on to the somewhat bizarre part of my response. I must warn you before you read the bulk of this paper: It will, at least in part, come off as thoroughly incoherent, and that is because I feel so impossibly close to the subject at hand that I find it difficult, if not impossible, to get my thoughts quite in order. As the reader probably is not very familiar with me as a human being at this point in time, it may be difficult to quite follow my conclusions about Calhoun and my reasoning behind them. Suffice it to say that I know myself fairly well, and those who know me at a similar level will understand me when I say that I am genuinely concerned that I may be John C. Calhoun reincarnate.
Granted, I look nothing like Calhoun, am female, et cetera, et cetera, and granted, I have espied in different early American political figures certain similarities to myself; these others, however, have had only one or two traits in common with myself, whereas nearly the entirety of Calhoun’s personality pangs of a Jackson era, Y chromosome-bearing Erin Elizabeth Sherman. Jefferson, for example, once reminded me of myself because of his distaste for political parties, interpersonal conflict, and religion in government. In every other case, however, there is some quality - Jefferson’s unwillingness to involve himself in political reality, for example - which removes the thought of striking similarity from my mind.
As a disclaimer, of course, my political views aren’t much like Calhoun’s, but the similarity isn’t about the particulars caused by circumstance; it’s about personality. For example, I am not inclined to say that slave labor - or, I suppose, a modern near-parallel, such as outsourcing of factory jobs - is something that must be preserved as the basis for the freedom and equality among the white United States citizenry. I do, however, see what Calhoun must have seen: any attempt to slow or stop slavery would bring enormous political entanglements and the downfall of not only the planter class, but also of shipping interests. The replacement of slave labor with free labor, in an attempt to save the economic sphere, could result in revolution; the uprising would then come not from Africans (or, in the modern case, foreign laborers), which were easier to dismiss from the view of the white man (or the American civilian), but from their own people, which would threaten the integrity of the American experiment itself. The gross hypocrisy of slavery or of cheap foreign labor, while present and terrible to think of, was, and is, basically unfixable, unless Americans and the West at large were suddenly to become willing to give up their exorbitant lifestyle. Calhoun, like myself, seemed to value the preservation of a republic above all else; every political action on his part, including his advocacy of slavery, was motivated by respect for America and the fragile dream of freedom and prosperity which it attempted to foster. I, unlike Calhoun, would like to think there’s still a way to escape the hideous little predicament of class division, but that is probably due more to naïveté and youth than an actual difference of opinion. May I cherish this naïveté until I die; I am not sure what I would do without it.
Calhoun, too, had a certain idealism about him which was never entirely quashed by politics. This similarity is more an object of hope for me than one of actuality, as I am not sure how anyone in the modern world can enter into the body politick without having their innocence drawn and quartered at the door. Nevertheless, I hope I will become like Calhoun in one respect, in his absolute confusion when it came to a common principle on Capitol Hill: A respectable politician stands by his man first, his ideals later - if at all. I cannot understand why anyone would remain loyal to someone who abandoned their ideals and beliefs in favor of personal success, especially monetary success, which Calhoun and I agree is basically unimportant as compared to the acquisition of knowledge and, most notably, the victory -- temporary as it may be, and all the more precious for its transience -- against “evil.”
Calhoun’s frustration with the apparently random cruelty of human affairs and the senseless sensitivities of the individuals caught up in them is one I identify with strongly. When Hofstadter wrote, after a reference to the man of stone’s perplexedness with regard to his wife’s sadness following the death of their child, “Here surely is a man who lived by abstractions; it is amazing, and a little pathetic, that he sought to make his business the management of human affairs,” I could not have been more wounded if Hofstadter were writing about me by name.
I suppose the statement wouldn’t have stung so if it hadn’t possessed, perhaps, a kernel of truth. I must be crazy to want to work, in this life, in the line of human management; I understand humans so little. Again, however, I am perversely satisfied about the whole matter, and refuse to change. That same nervous feeling of confidence borne of destiny which propelled John C. Calhoun propels me as well, and will propel me for some time to come.
A more official-y, up-to-date Christmas list:
- any one of two dresses which I have my terrible little gray eye on
- CD-Rs/DVD-Rs
- interesting socks, in infinite quantities
- pendanty things
- any music, book, or work of film you feel I ought to be exposed to
- for Christ's sake, surprise me. o.O
Also: comment with stuff you want from me for your winter solstice holiday of choice. :P Be warned that you probably will not get it.
. . . and if you're feeling particularly odd, as I am, ramble about prom, dates, dresses, whateverthehell. >.o I miss the History Channel specials on Rome.
I don't want to think about prom anymore. o.o Make it stop!
Kavalier and Clay is fan-bloody-tastic. Yes. Yes it is.
. . . . . entries for 3.12.05 . . . . .
Add to the list of songs stuck in my head: Pure Morning by Placebo. Dear God it's catchy, and I remember it from my youth. (I remember a lot of bizarre songs from my youth. It is Cassie's fault.)
I wonder how the lads at Princeton are doing.
Voila!
This blog deserves a touchup.
. . . . . entries for 2.12.05 . . . . .
I Heart Huckabees is a pretty remarkable movie. xD You can't have infinity without the human bullshit along the way. It's quite possibly the best existentialist conclusion ever. :P
Two songs recently stuck in Erin's head: Kiss Me Like You Mean It by the Magnetic Fields, and Fight Test by the Flaming Lips. If you know anything about these bands, you know my subconscious has been in strange places lately. o.O
Lost my current events notebook! :( Hopefully it'll be found eventually. If not, eh. I'll redo it. No big deal.
It is the weekend. *Fuck* yes.
. . . . . entries for 1.12.05 . . . . .
If Mr. Bloom didn't love me before, he does now!
First thing this class: got back Calhoun reaction papers. He told me mine wasn't finished, that he wanted to read more about how I AM JOHN C. CALHOUN, as you may or may not have heard. :P So I write another page and hand it into him whenever I get 'round to it.
So that was interesting. Class itself consisted of Thoreau babble, in which I mentioned fairly late on the problem of education in Thoreau's proposed government, and near the end, Mark brought up St. John's, how it's always sending him stuff, and how silly it is (according to him!). Mr. Bloom heard a little knot of students discussing the school and piped in, "St. John's in Maryland?" To which I reply:
"YEAH, St. John's in Maryland!"
This led to a conversation about our beloved St. John's College in Annapolis and Santa Fé. The Bloominator tells me that, if he could go back and do anything, he'd go to that college. We exchanged words about my dear sister Katherine Anne and her experiences, pros and cons of going to the school, and so forth. It was a fantastic nerd moment. It made my day. No; it made my *life.*
I pity those who have no passion in this life.
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
.:past:.
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)