Post - Educationalism

My contribution to the annual, office newsletter, cross-posted from my financial/work interpretation-of-the-world blog : Ordinary Lang uage Finance . Even in America, the land of the second chance, and of transcendentalist redeemers, the paradox inevitably arises: you cannot change the world (for example, a state of marriage [or conversely: an economy]) until the people in it change, and the people cannot change until the world changes. - Stanley Cavell I hadn't seen this passage since the middle-years of college (if you remember those days too, it was a different time back then--long before I personally came to an inkling's understanding of the power of tragedy, and the subsequent flow of change). During those shattering years, I questioned the purpose of many practices and sites of genius. I wondered why so many studied the tragic Greek plays, the tragic writings of Kafka, or the tragic films; I wondered why people didn't focus solely on the works of those who burned br

"Tell me this: can a man who can cast a spell ever really grow up?" It's rare that I'm compelled to physically expound upon a high-fantasy novel. Sure, I can talk up the George RR Martin books until the sun grows cold, but then they're not exactly high fantasy, nor does the thousands of pages lend itself to a haphazard reflection. That said, it's few novels (short ones, even fewer) that will, and can, openly discuss the inherent paradox of magic in a coming of age story (Harry Potter has his own difficulties, though not on quite this scale); but, Lev Grossman's The Magicians does, and it does it well. The opening quote speaks to this paradox inherent to magic and "growing up". Professor Fogg, philosopher, magician, professor and dean speaks to a group of his Magic University graduates: "Sometimes I wonder if man was really meant to discover magic...It doesn't really make sense. It's a little too perfect...If there's

I must confess: the importance of health reform just got real. For some time now (since August of 2007) I've lived under the good graces of group health insurance. And not just any group health. We're talking: awesome group health (as in, cheap, sub-$300 deductible, $2,000 out-of-pocket, 80/20 co-pay insurance, huge networks, nearly all practices/procedures are covered, etc.). The corporate overlords informed us last week that the above mentioned health insurance is being dropped, with no replacement plan. They managed to work out a deal with the insurance overlords to allow us to keep the insurance in place until March of 2010 (they were actually considering just dropping it, immediately, as in: "sorry you no longer have health insurance, effective today; you should probably go get health insurance"). After reviewing with another health agent today about what choices we have available to us, as a small business, and to me as an individual--I AM COMPLETELY AND UTTE

Some might say that takes the magic out of love, to know that you are  loved. But what's still a surprise is how much you love her. I loved her to abstraction, to destitution. I blew my fortune on engagements; now only my love sustains me. Love for a woman who doesn't exist. That's my sad story. ...... I thought I was passed it You don't get passed it.  It just--becomes a part of who you are. [ seriously, how is it that this  is the kind of work that is cancelled?]  

Scene: Castle walks back into his apartment, and finds his mom on the couch who is admiring a dried rose.   .... Mom: And I'm scared.  What if it doesn't work out?  What if it does? Castle: That's the cost of living. Mom: I just don't want to ruin this (this, referring to her nostalgic feelings, and to the dried rose she's holding) *Castle takes the rose from her and puts its on the table* Castle: This (referring to the rose) is dead.  You are not.  Time to start making some new memories. ... I always knew he wasn't a one trick, sci-fi pony. 

What if philosophy is not , as many have supposed, a search for truth, but the avoiding of the void (or avoiding [a] depression), the continual flight from skepticism, the acknowledgment that we are--by our very human nature--isolated: strangers to ourselves, others and the world all at once? It took me forever to come to this understanding... ... (and I mean "this" as in, this one, one of many others. Just as in Super Mario Brothers, there is no singular world, there are many worlds--all of which our hero finds himself almost totally isolated from other, humanly contact; he/we have no knowledge of his past or present; with only the drive to avoid the voids and find Princess--who must constantly be re-found, an important note--we proceed through many worlds and many trials, tragedies, and doubts (the wrong castle, again?), and come to many different understandings by dedication, skill, and a bit of luck. ::blows whistle::).

I've been out of college for 936 days now. As a self-purported blog about "life after the academy," you'd think I'd have started keeping track of this a lot sooner. I guess I finally found some semblance of balance somewhere between work-or-die mode, and work-or-bad-things-will-happen mode. As I sit here in my best attempt at recreating one of the Hargrove, music library cubicles, with books ranging from political theory to finance to philosophy to wizards scattered across the desk, it's hard to imagine that it has been so long (some things never change, thankfully). It feels a bit silly to track this, but I do it if for no other reason than to remember the general sense of abundance of being that we all (if I may speak for the others) felt while negotiating the very depths of our existence (and more usually the streets of Berkeley at two in the morning), and perhaps, just perhaps, I do it so that I can begin to nurture that gratitude once more outside of th