on the road

Florida, this time.

This, looking down the fairway of the 17th hole, I think it was. Dusk. Over time, three planes entered the same space and - but for time - would have collided. Instead, they left a lovely crossing star.

The king golfed. I read. Cesar's Way, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane (Kate Dicamillo), and His Holiness (Carl Bernstein and Marco Politi).

I re-read a story I had written to the half-way point about a year ago. I still like it. Perhaps it's time to finish it.

viva minus 14

There was a huge storm last night, which left me grateful to be inside, warm and dry under the covers trying to sleep. Unfortunately, the howling wind and claps of thunder made that rather difficult.

Today my actual best friend is coming over to go see the greenwood happenings and thereafter have a bit of a birthday lunch. We don't see much of each other any more. She's relatively newly married, as well, and what with her own house constructings and running a business she doesn't get a lot of free time. I miss hanging out with her. It's hard, then, to just enjoy time together when you do get it, because you feel like there's so much ground to cover - first, to catch up, and then to make up for the fact that you suspect you won't be seeing each other for another month or two!

I remember someone once saying how ridiculous they found the concept of "quality time" - when used as an excuse for spending a small amount of time with one's kids, for example. . . . [grammar question: does "one's" properly have an apostrophe there, for the possessive, or does that signify a contraction?]

Anyway, this person said something to the effect that more often than not it's really the spending of time with someone that counts - not just the supposed 'quality' of it. Granted, the quality counts, too, but not as much as we might like to think. You can't cultivate a friend from scratch by just spending one quality day a year - for example - with them. At some point, you just have to spend time. Riding in a car saying nothing. Skipping stones. Shopping for food together, perhaps, or going your separate ways in a bookstore (and meeting up afterwards to inspect acquisitions), enduring the boring recital because it's her kid and she asked that you go with her.

I don't excel at this, by any stretch. In fact, I'm pretty bad about it. Luckily, I've spent so much time with C over the years that I can get away with some patchy stretches. . . . every now and again, anyway. I think it's time to replenish the time-spent-together cache.

More reading today - I hope to get through 2 more chapters and then finish the dissertation tomorrow. At that point, I should have a better idea as to which works of my main author I wish to re-visit and in what order.

general update

Sorry - I've been sick. I can't quite tell what it is, but I spent the day zonked out yesterday. Today, the constant headache has yielded to ibuprofin, though, and I'm feeling the wonderful feeling of no pain. It really brings home the saying that the one good thing about hitting yourself in the head with a hammer is that it feels so good when you stop. . . .

So for the most part I'm feeling so good right now, just because the headache has finally stopped!

Other than that, there's not much.

We're not going to SC today for the weekend. [long story - no inclination to tell it]. I have another resume package to put "out there" today - for a position in the "justice" business. . . . There's a legal case to get started. . . . And I have a kitchen to design and a construction site to go visit and [hopefully] a new roof to see.

I will probably also be finishing up the main bits of a cabled vest I started knitting a week or so ago. . . . Normally, I would go take pictures of the same just to have a bit of visual interest to this post, but sorry. Not today. Maybe later.

I started with the viva voce reading last night. One of my author's translators has written a "Guide for the Perplexed" book on him, and I thought it would be a great overview. It has been quite interesting. For one, he talks about how Ricoeur reacts against the Cartesian and Enlightenment system of object/subject thought by insisting on unique personhood, adding the element of action and the potential of capability to the philosophical equation.

To relent, I'll close with a picture of the vest. . . . as there seem to be no more words for today!

body and soul. . . .

Nee, over at Non-essential Equipment, pointed to an article that she thought was "spot on" with respect to certain physical and cultural manifestations of moral sensibilities. I disagreed. To me, the article was little more than the attempt to reduce morality to a [not-completely-known-at-present] physical and/or sociological manifestation; an instinct. Here's what she wrote, and here's the article she referred to by S. Pinker. It's entitled The Moral Instinct.

Interestingly, today I read an article kind of from the "other side", in which a theologian makes the argument that we are more than our minds - that the body has something to do with our thoughts [and prayers] as well. Check it out - it's entitled "Thinking With Our Bodies", written by Mike Metzger.

How is it that I can so completely disagree with the one, and yet agree with the other? Aren't they really just approaching a similar conclusion, but from different perspectives? You know, I just don't think so.

I think it has to do with the question of responsibility - which in the one seems to be either lacking or sought to be restricted - but which in the other seems to acknowledge the potential of a greater richness in how we think, know, and decide, all the while leaving our individual responsibility in place.

I have a hard time with any kind of approach that would reduce morality to an "instinct"*. There is no trouble, however, for me to acknowledge that morality [or other kinds of thought and understanding] is influenced and/or enhanced by the physical and by our bodily experience.

One of my favorite quotes is from C.S. Lewis to the following effect [paraphrasing from memory here]:

So much of what passes for godliness is nothing more than a proper digestion and a good night's sleep.

It does not work the other way around, though, that what passes for a proper digestion and a good night's sleep is nothing more than godliness [or morality]. . . .

But perhaps this merely demonstrates my own bias in favor of the metaphysical, and my disenchantment with the Enlightenment Project, by which man seeks to elevate human reason and understanding to ultimate status.

_______________________________
*C.S. Lewis has another great thought regarding instinct, and the fact that relying upon it does not advance our understanding of the underlying matter: "to say that migratory birds find their way by instinct is only to say that we do not know how migratory birds find their way". . . .

C.S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (London: Fount Paperbacks, 1999 ed.)p. 21.

what I learned. . . .

We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it -- and stop there -- lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove-lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove-lid again, and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one any more.

Mark Twain (1835-1910)

Actually overheard: "Oh I never read anymore. I had to read so much during the war [note: that would be the Second World War. . . .] that I said to myself when it was over that I would never read again."

This, from an 83 year old woman whose husband died a year ago. Her chief complaints? She's lonely (1); she's bored (2). But hey, she had a bad experience reading over 60 years ago so she's never gone back.

I don't understand.

Then again, there are probably equally ridiculous "lessons" I have taken to heart for myself, never questioning the ridiculousness of conclusion I have adopted from the experience I went through. I just don't see them. Or not yet, anyway. . . .

viva voce

okey dokey then. Here's the first real mention of the viva voce. Latin, for "live voice." It is the oral defense of my thesis.

Notably, there's not much written about this process that I can find. There's a very helpful presentation here by Dr. David Twigg, and a postgraduate discussion huddle and support group here that takes on the topic on occasion. I did find this posting which takes on the difference between American versus European vivas, and this one, which gives greater insight into the British exemplar, which is of particular interest to me.

I heard from Magda today. Finally. The examiners have accepted and should get the manuscript tomorrow. So that puts me into February for the viva.

Rear in gear time! Back to some serious reading. It might be time also to read the dissertation again. Again? Actually for the first time, all at one sitting, that is. . . . I fear the typo. Oh Geordie-Geordie do I fear the typo! I'm sure there's tons of them. . . .

Then there's travel plans to make and accommodations to secure. And people to alert that I'll be in town - for after the viva, anyway. Although I'll have to be there a few days in advance. The time change heading East affects me pretty heavily for the first few days. As in: I can't think or speak! Fine. I can drink pints.

But to sum up, I think I need to do some more reading in my main guy, just to keep everything fresh and accessible. I will also read the dissertation several times - ditto: fresh & accessible - and start compiling an errata. It might also be a good idea to start thinking about what I think the weak points are, as well as the strengths, and to be prepared to discuss those.

Still in the spirit of Rembrandt - above is his painting of Hannah, the prophetess. Reading. . . .

who's reading whom?

A real book is not one that we read, but one that reads us.
W.H. Auden, poet (1907-1973)

Sounds clever. What do you think it really means? You know, feet on ground, "Oh yeah!" sort of stuff?

Not to prose-ify poetry, or anything. . . .

[I have an idea, but I'll let this percolate a bit first. Any other thoughts?] Also, painting photo found here - it's a Rembrandt painting. There's a second painting pictured there, as well. Also very cool!

favorite books. . . .

I gave the link yesterday, but I'll do it again: My friend Nonessential Equipment posted a list of her favorite 10 books here and I've been meaning to think that through for myself, as well.

One I share with her is Anne of Green Gables (the whole series, actually - with Anne of the Island maybe my favorite - or maybe only my favorite right now, because that's the one I feel like re-reading right now. . . .).

OK. So top 10 in no particular order:

Anne of Green Gables
Canopus in Argos (Doris Lessing)
Razor's Edge (Somerset Maugham)

Austen. . . . ALL of 'em! (or most of them, I'm not that crazy about Northanger Abbey): Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, Mansfield Park, Sense and Sensibility.

Man - that would be 7 already if I count them all! Ok - just count Austen as 1.

My Name is Asher Lev (Chaim Potok) (and 'Gift of Asher Lev' - but I won't count that as 2, either. . . .)

The Little Prince
Fugitive Pieces (Anne Michaels)
Dune (Frank Herbert)
The Flamenco Club (Sarah - Bird, I think it is)
And speaking of birds, Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott)

For today, anyway.

another day. . . .

Wow. Coming back to life again. Slowly.

I took the weekend 'off'.

Emancipated Son #2 was in from London (arriving the day before D-Day but not dreadfully underfoot until D-day, but after I'd finished printing, which was a good thing). So that meant that Emancipated Son #1 and wife were here Saturday and Sunday - and they're all heading out with the king and my dad for a round of golf this morning.

Meanwhile, construction in the woods kicks off today: the bulldozers arrive. I had to go to the woods on Sunday to discuss if there were any trees in the LOD ("limits of disturbance") that could be spared. . . . I felt like an executioner. I did manage to save like 4, but my favorite beech grove took a big hit. It will be painful to see.

Funny how that works though. That you have to raze what was there, before you can build anew. Not that I'd want to talk too much about Foucault and 'deconstruction' - because that guy just drives me crazy - but even Hannah Arendt notes that human creativity is done in violence. Namely, the violent 'fashioning' of something into something else. Consider the 'making' of a table, for example. It includes within it the chopping down of trees and planing of wood and cutting to size, etc., etc. (redundant 'etc.', I know. But it doesn't sound as good, otherwise).

So, too, to build a house, you have first to score the earth to make a solid - uncluttered - foundation.

I don't have to like it, though. Even though I know it is necessary and will work out for 'good' in the end. . . .

Still trying to figure out what life looks like now, post-dissertation. I'm not completely out of the woods, insofar as I have to get ready for the viva voce. . . . and have to stay sharp. Actually, there's some more reading I need to do on Ricoeur. Magda, bless her heart, told me to take a few days off and enjoy, but then to stay sharp and keep reading. The really cool thing was that she also said that she could really see how the paper came together, at the end. It feels good to think that I may have won her over . . . and if I've won her over, maybe that means all will be well also with the examiners! I hope.

Anyway, I'm not borrowing trouble here. I'll keep reading, and re-read the dissertation several times before the viva, and then go in and pretend it's like an appellate hearing. This, I know how to do.

I also get to read some non-philosophy - what a treat! My friend Nonessential Equipment posted a list of her favorite 10 books here, which got some of her buddies to post 10 of theirs, and there's so many books I've never read that sound so wonderful! Today, I think I'm going to sit down and figure out my favorite 10, but also start a book pile for regular reading again.

What a concept.

In the meantime, there's laundry, ironing (so that's where my 3 favorite shirts are!!!) and thinking about starting to pack for Florida. Wedding. sigh. and I have to hem a gown.

And before I do anything - send email to my Dublin runner to sort out final details of binding & turn-in instructions. It may be off my plate, but it's actually not across the goal yet! That happens tomorrow. Lord willing. . . .

another day; another. . . ah. . . what was that?

OK. So today I started with the thought that I'd get right to work and it's after noon already and where did the morning go?!

It snuck past me, somehow, in between the Chicago Manual or MLA Handbook discussions ( and it now appears I'm to do Chicago style - not MLA - and this is a good thing, I think, because I really don't like all those parentheses and oh! I hope Chicago uses footnotes like sensible humans) - and the other writer consults on such diverse topics as Mean Girls, soup recipes, lesbian parenting and switch-overs to a Mac (which is computer-related and not in any way meant to be gender preferential, so don't give me a hard time!). Then there was the realization that I like the Bigelow Plantation Mint tea rather than the Bigelow Mint Medley - and that took some time to work through. And why would one company want to make two different kinds of mint tea? I don't know.

Well I am writing, and this is good, but I'm writing here and I need to be writing on the dissertation, and that is bad. But it's OK, because when I'm done here, I'll get back to there and hopefully things will move along rather rapidly.

We're mostly done with chapter 4 - and I'm in negotiations as to whether or not I really need a chapter 5. Or whether I can call it a day, write the CONCLUSION and then start RE-writing what I've already written.

And putting it into proper Chicago-style. (once I figure out what that is.)

I'm a little schizophrenic these days. Reading my 'writers' - and I found a really splendid one on a site called woulda coulda shoulda (sorry, no time to figure out how to do the link thing. . . . maybe later. Gotta write, remember?!) - and then reading my academics. . . . There's a really big difference in 'voice'. The academics generally have none. They have a lotta words, and the challenge is getting to know them all and how to negotiate the paragraph-long sentences and come up with a meaning at the end of it all. My academic supervisor keeps writing things like tone and too poetic in my margins. But I'm getting better at the faceless, personality-less voice. And even the king admitted last night that I was fully the master of the long, convoluted, distinction-drawing and nuance-suggesting sentence. Containing words that are NOT IN THE DICTIONARY. (let alone on spell-check).

www.dictionary.com helps sometimes - it had 'aporia', but not 'originary' or 'phronesis'. For that, you need google and I'm amazed at what is on wikipedia these days! Amazing.

Just today, for example, I learned about the 'flying spaghetti monster' - I think it was. Complete with the little fish-shaped car emblem it seeks to spoof. Actually, I think it started out spoofing 'intelligent design' teaching, and demanded that the schools institute a teaching on the flying spaghetti monster and it took off from there. (and OK - I took the time to get out the HTML HOW-TO to look up "links". . . . Lucky you! So while I'm at it, here's the woulda coulda shoulda link).

Anyway, point being: there's a lot of junk out there.

Enough to keep me busy enough to not notice an entire morning slip out the back door.

Some of the writing is laughable and inane. Some makes me think I'll never be a writer - a real writer - myself. The best makes me want to sit and think. And then write.

That's the kind of writer I'D like to be.