In preparation for my grad school admissions essay, I have been writing down and brainstorming many things about my character and personality, which will hopefully assist in drawing out a most unique piece of work. I've discovered amongst my research on perfecting the "statement of purpose" that sincerity is one of the most difficult and important qualities to project when writing. Since the essay is self-centric, this is most difficult to achieve. Come across as egotistical and sincere - eh? Therefore, the things I discuss must be somewhat personal, but also differentiate as an intellectually motivated individual for the specific discipline, and not the same-old same-old "I persevere...That experience really meant something to me...I lvoe a challenge...blah blah. As I'm writing these words, I'm feeling the distress of this kind of quality. It is difficult! Even if this doesn't seem to address how I am going to write this essay, I'm going to list random things about my character I hope will assist me. Perhaps any of my readers can help with this? Don't forget...these are random. Quite random qualities and memories:
1. I want to do more than just breathe, I want to know why I am here.
2. I stifle my emotions, but I'm actually more sensitive than I'd like to admit.
3. I write, and this is my valium when I'm aggravated. I draw and paint when I'm happy. This is my champagne.
4. I'm upset about the poverty around the world, and the best thing I can do about it is volunteer at home. Especially when there are more homeless people in Orange County than most other highly populated US cities.
5. I believe gay people should have the right to get married, if they choose. I am pro-choice, but I would never have an abortion.
6. I love the music of Radiohead, but I don't understand half of the things they are trying to say.
7. Most sports I am only "okay" at, despite the fact that I'm quite athletic in that I practice all the time.
8. The thought of eternity in Heaven still scares me.
9. I don't really worry about dying. In fact I wouldn't mind dying a bloody, horrific death, if it would save someone I loved.
10. Traveling to places I've never been makes me feel alive more than almost anything else does.
11. I love being alone. Walking alone. Writing alone. Reading alone. However, I still get lonely sometimes.
12. I procrastinate in almost anything. I love the rush I get from finishing something under a tight deadline. The feeling of excelling at the end heightens the excitement for me.
13. I am polychronic. I hate being early for anything except to go sailing with the family, like we used to do in summers past...or Disneyland. (he he)
14. I like depressing films. It reminds me of why I choose to do the right thing. It also reminds me that things don't always end happily.
15. I too want world peace. However, I don't believe it is ever possible.
16. I like being witty, but I also like being the person at the party who just watches other people and sits quietly in the corner.
17. I am motivated to change the world, even if it just means not using styrafoam cups for coffee in the office.
18. I could sit on the beach listening to the waves for hours and not be bored, as long as I had my journal with me.
19. I want to live in Paris. For a long time. A very long time.
20. Museums thrill me. But I can never get anyone to go with me!
21. Fresh strawberries are so much better than any other dessert.
22. I wish I was a real witch who knew real spells and Harry Potter was my best friend.
23. I don't think I would mind being single for a very long time.
24. I believe people cannot communicate honestly with each other 80% of the time. Either because they are too polite, too rude, too insincere, or too insecure.
25. I love the contradictions in life, and I don't think I would want things created differently. I just want to be able to change the small piece of the world I can.
Showing posts with label Philosophy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philosophy. Show all posts
Monday, January 26, 2009
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
An Agitation
‘I wished to hear the sound of your voice,’ he said.
‘You’ve heard it, and you see it says nothing very sweet.’
‘It gives me pleasure, all the same.’ And with this he got up.
She had felt pain and displeasure on receiving early that day the news he was in Florence and by her leave would come within an hour to see her. She had been vexed and distressed, though she had sent back word by his messenger that he might come when he would. She had not been better pleased when she saw him; his being there at all was so full of heavy implications. It implied things she could never assent to—rights, reproaches, remonstrance, rebuke, the expectation of making her change her purpose. These things, however, if implied, had not been expressed; and now our young lady, strangely enough, began to resent her visitor’s remarkable self-control. There was a dumb misery about him that irritated her; there was a manly staying of his hand that made her heart beat faster. She felt her agitation rising, and she said to herself that she was angry in the way a woman is angry when she has been in the wrong. She was not in the wrong; she had fortunately not that bitterness to swallow; but, all the same, she wished he would denounce her a little. She had wished his visit would be short; it had no purpose, no propriety; yet now that he seemed to be turning away she felt a sudden horror of his leaving her without uttering a word that would give her an opportunity to defend herself more than she had done in writing to him a month before, in a few carefully chosen words, to announce her engagement. If she were not in the wrong, however, why should she desire to defend herself? It was an excess of generosity on Isabel’s part to desire that Mr Goodwood should be angry.
This is a passage from Portrait of A Lady and though it was written several years ago, I think this passage poignant because of its relevance to human interaction. Specifically, trysts and interludes.
An agitation, though it was, to be around Goodwood, our female character desires him to strike out in anger, tell her she’s wrong. It is such a familiar feeling; the desire to see emotion. If we feel that another person is terribly composed when we know them to be angry, we would wait for that moment for him to yell, to scream, to let go of his emotions. This would do so righteously, for then that Other would be doing us an injustice. Instead, the person sits or stands calmly before us, knowing how to handle her purpose/his purpose. What is one to do? Accept it and with so much unsaid, there is that “dumb misery about him” that Isabel saw and detested so very much.
Goodwood has such self discipline as to accept things as they are. While I won’t go into detail about the circumstances of the foregoing story, the plight is one all of us have dealt with. Isabel has bad news and he hears it calmly, with the desire to see her, to be near her, even though everything feels like a letdown. When one wants something so greatly and it doesn’t come, having that self-control he has amounts to something. The game men and women often play with one another amounts to a lot of suffering but also a lot of happiness, but often that “remarkable self-control” is what wins. Let the feelings play out, let a person know how you feel, but not to show it off, is what kills. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It reminds me of why I sometimes play the game, myself. I may not wish to do so, but when the time comes and I yearn to have something, I may wait patiently for it and then see if that self discipline is fruitful. It has proven to be so fruitful in the past, it is hard to disregard its power in the future. Unfortunately, it is a small game of deception to hide such emotion. But, it is also a considerably protective way of dealing with one’s heart. And this is something my loved ones have always reminded me to guard before anything else.
‘You’ve heard it, and you see it says nothing very sweet.’
‘It gives me pleasure, all the same.’ And with this he got up.
She had felt pain and displeasure on receiving early that day the news he was in Florence and by her leave would come within an hour to see her. She had been vexed and distressed, though she had sent back word by his messenger that he might come when he would. She had not been better pleased when she saw him; his being there at all was so full of heavy implications. It implied things she could never assent to—rights, reproaches, remonstrance, rebuke, the expectation of making her change her purpose. These things, however, if implied, had not been expressed; and now our young lady, strangely enough, began to resent her visitor’s remarkable self-control. There was a dumb misery about him that irritated her; there was a manly staying of his hand that made her heart beat faster. She felt her agitation rising, and she said to herself that she was angry in the way a woman is angry when she has been in the wrong. She was not in the wrong; she had fortunately not that bitterness to swallow; but, all the same, she wished he would denounce her a little. She had wished his visit would be short; it had no purpose, no propriety; yet now that he seemed to be turning away she felt a sudden horror of his leaving her without uttering a word that would give her an opportunity to defend herself more than she had done in writing to him a month before, in a few carefully chosen words, to announce her engagement. If she were not in the wrong, however, why should she desire to defend herself? It was an excess of generosity on Isabel’s part to desire that Mr Goodwood should be angry.
This is a passage from Portrait of A Lady and though it was written several years ago, I think this passage poignant because of its relevance to human interaction. Specifically, trysts and interludes.
An agitation, though it was, to be around Goodwood, our female character desires him to strike out in anger, tell her she’s wrong. It is such a familiar feeling; the desire to see emotion. If we feel that another person is terribly composed when we know them to be angry, we would wait for that moment for him to yell, to scream, to let go of his emotions. This would do so righteously, for then that Other would be doing us an injustice. Instead, the person sits or stands calmly before us, knowing how to handle her purpose/his purpose. What is one to do? Accept it and with so much unsaid, there is that “dumb misery about him” that Isabel saw and detested so very much.
Goodwood has such self discipline as to accept things as they are. While I won’t go into detail about the circumstances of the foregoing story, the plight is one all of us have dealt with. Isabel has bad news and he hears it calmly, with the desire to see her, to be near her, even though everything feels like a letdown. When one wants something so greatly and it doesn’t come, having that self-control he has amounts to something. The game men and women often play with one another amounts to a lot of suffering but also a lot of happiness, but often that “remarkable self-control” is what wins. Let the feelings play out, let a person know how you feel, but not to show it off, is what kills. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It reminds me of why I sometimes play the game, myself. I may not wish to do so, but when the time comes and I yearn to have something, I may wait patiently for it and then see if that self discipline is fruitful. It has proven to be so fruitful in the past, it is hard to disregard its power in the future. Unfortunately, it is a small game of deception to hide such emotion. But, it is also a considerably protective way of dealing with one’s heart. And this is something my loved ones have always reminded me to guard before anything else.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Philosophy, Ethics, and Cleanliness
The following article I'm going to link here discusses clean bodies and dirty minds. A recent psychology study showed that people who washed with soap and water were more inclined to be lenient when viewing activities ethical or unethical. Rather, lenient when it came to choosing what they considered satisfactorily moral or not. It made me wonder about how often we 'wash our hands' of the choices we make. Of course, people make that observation all the time when looking at other peoples’ choices:
“You can do what you want with your life, but I would never do that.”
“You guys can argue all you want, but I wash my hands of this situation.”
But, what about our own moral obligations to ourselves? Or our personal ethics when dealing with people we care about and/or friends? It is hard not to step in (or have the desire to) when we see someone dealing unkindly or acting in a way that is harmful to themselves or is simply wrong. But, when we make poor choices, ourselves, how do we reconcile this? Or, what if the choices we make aren’t wrong, but we feel guilty because things didn’t turn out the way we planned after taking a risk or a leap of intention? We feel we should have “known better”, “expected this the first time,” or we just beat the dead horse when thinking about how we could have foreseen the future. In my choices, sometimes I think not so much “what if”, but wonder if I can do something to eradicate my mistake or my results. It is of no use saying I could have avoided a choice I made. I’ve already made my decision. However, can we do something to wipe the slate clean? To change how we feel? To begin anew? That’s the problem with emotions. It seems the only way to wipe them clean is to wait. Time seems to be the solver, but time feels fickle. Sometimes it goes slow. Sometimes it goes fast. When we want it to speed up, it slows down. When we are happy, it moves on again quickly. In the meantime, we are left with the consequences of our choices or anything to ‘wash’ away our guilt or our feeling, whatever it is.
I just wish I knew sometimes what was best for me. I toss around these ideas in my head about what is ‘right’ for my career, for my state of mind, for my friendships, but I’m not sure I know. Or maybe it is that I lack the courage to choose because I am afraid of what I risk losing. With great risk, comes great reward, I always say. Perhaps I cannot even take my own advice seriously.
http://www.economist.com/science/displayStory.cfm?story_id=12630193&source=hptextfeature
Don't I know it.
“You can do what you want with your life, but I would never do that.”
“You guys can argue all you want, but I wash my hands of this situation.”
But, what about our own moral obligations to ourselves? Or our personal ethics when dealing with people we care about and/or friends? It is hard not to step in (or have the desire to) when we see someone dealing unkindly or acting in a way that is harmful to themselves or is simply wrong. But, when we make poor choices, ourselves, how do we reconcile this? Or, what if the choices we make aren’t wrong, but we feel guilty because things didn’t turn out the way we planned after taking a risk or a leap of intention? We feel we should have “known better”, “expected this the first time,” or we just beat the dead horse when thinking about how we could have foreseen the future. In my choices, sometimes I think not so much “what if”, but wonder if I can do something to eradicate my mistake or my results. It is of no use saying I could have avoided a choice I made. I’ve already made my decision. However, can we do something to wipe the slate clean? To change how we feel? To begin anew? That’s the problem with emotions. It seems the only way to wipe them clean is to wait. Time seems to be the solver, but time feels fickle. Sometimes it goes slow. Sometimes it goes fast. When we want it to speed up, it slows down. When we are happy, it moves on again quickly. In the meantime, we are left with the consequences of our choices or anything to ‘wash’ away our guilt or our feeling, whatever it is.
I just wish I knew sometimes what was best for me. I toss around these ideas in my head about what is ‘right’ for my career, for my state of mind, for my friendships, but I’m not sure I know. Or maybe it is that I lack the courage to choose because I am afraid of what I risk losing. With great risk, comes great reward, I always say. Perhaps I cannot even take my own advice seriously.
http://www.economist.com/science/displayStory.cfm?story_id=12630193&source=hptextfeature
Don't I know it.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
If you could become something else...
I want to
I want to be someone else or I'll explode
Floating upon this surface for the birds
The birds
The birds
- "Talk Show Host", by Radiohead
Have you ever had the urge to change your spots? If I was born a cheetah, I would have wished to be a leopard. I think it is in my nature to choose a distinction. I live in a beautiful condo by the coast of Newport with two beautiful, sweet girls, each with such distinctions in their character as not to deprive me of anything less than such energy and optimism each day. Sometimes the days go by and go by, yet I feel it is passing me by, not lifting me up. Given so much by so many – smiles as I walk by my desk in the office, gifts of mercy for things I’ve said or done wrong, a joke well-received instead of raised eyebrows, a piece of laughter for a chance to see the ocean and a trip on the sidewalk, and a call from a favorite friend. All this and more is mine to absorb, to behold. An observation or two gives me great pleasure. This is life. Yet, somehow I am still reaching. Always reaching to do something big. Bigger than what I already am. So, I stretch myself thing. But if I’m not someone else, I just might break into fragments. Like a glass you drop carelessly on the floor. One sensitive, delicate drop of a fragile cup and the glass shatters. The pieces are small, are jagged, have sharp edges, sometimes round, yet each piece can’t be simply placed back together to form one glass once more. Each piece is now apart. So, this is me. Or, what I could be, if I don’t find a way to keep myself together. In the meantime, I yearn to be a leopard. I could be fast like a cheetah, but I’d still want to be graceful like that species I am not. I may never be. But the insatiable quest to stand out. It will never die. I want to be someone else or I’ll explode.
I want to be someone else or I'll explode
Floating upon this surface for the birds
The birds
The birds
- "Talk Show Host", by Radiohead
Have you ever had the urge to change your spots? If I was born a cheetah, I would have wished to be a leopard. I think it is in my nature to choose a distinction. I live in a beautiful condo by the coast of Newport with two beautiful, sweet girls, each with such distinctions in their character as not to deprive me of anything less than such energy and optimism each day. Sometimes the days go by and go by, yet I feel it is passing me by, not lifting me up. Given so much by so many – smiles as I walk by my desk in the office, gifts of mercy for things I’ve said or done wrong, a joke well-received instead of raised eyebrows, a piece of laughter for a chance to see the ocean and a trip on the sidewalk, and a call from a favorite friend. All this and more is mine to absorb, to behold. An observation or two gives me great pleasure. This is life. Yet, somehow I am still reaching. Always reaching to do something big. Bigger than what I already am. So, I stretch myself thing. But if I’m not someone else, I just might break into fragments. Like a glass you drop carelessly on the floor. One sensitive, delicate drop of a fragile cup and the glass shatters. The pieces are small, are jagged, have sharp edges, sometimes round, yet each piece can’t be simply placed back together to form one glass once more. Each piece is now apart. So, this is me. Or, what I could be, if I don’t find a way to keep myself together. In the meantime, I yearn to be a leopard. I could be fast like a cheetah, but I’d still want to be graceful like that species I am not. I may never be. But the insatiable quest to stand out. It will never die. I want to be someone else or I’ll explode.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Turquoise
It has been a long time coming. For all of you who are my readers, I'm sorry it has been so long, but I simply am exhausted from coming home. Ever since my plane landed in Orange Country from London, exactly a month ago today, I've been swimming in the wonder of Europe, even though I'm not anywhere but here in the United States. It is difficult to describe how one can be so changed from just a few days out of their life, but time is another dimension, right? Perhaps not measured in hours, but measured by quality. My quality of life in England, France, Netherlands, Deutschland, and Italia was so drastically different and merveilleux (wonderful) that it has in fact, affected every single day I have been "home"! C'est increyable! My time has been in some ways, very, very morose, because despite being so happy that I had the opportunity to see and do so many activities, and absorb special experiences, I cannot seem to put as much motivation together for my daily responsibilities at work and my downtime is spent soothing my broken heart. Because...my heart aches to be in a country I don't understand, where each moment I'm learning and feeling and doing something that inspires each part of myself. My creativity in some ways is just pouring out of me because of how discontented I am, and yet I'm also so deliriously happy because I have these moments which speak to me each day about how lucky I am to be alive. I cannot even begin to place this into words that make the kind of sense I want. I know these sentences are fragmented and displaced. Yet I cannot help myself. I am drowning. And happy. And sad.
Look into her eyes.
Look into her eyes.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
London...As An Existentialist
Why does it seem that when you have all this time on your hands to choose how your day is going to go, it slips through your fingers. However, when you allow yourself to make plans, you often go from place to place as opportunities arise -- and sometimes are let down by the prospect of turning out more exciting than they are in actuality?
Traditional existentialists dressed in black and "mourned" the life they were shrouded in. Wondering if these societal constraints were a mere construct of a life imposed, never chosen. The existentialist chooses her way to live each day. Consequently, those most spontaneous things should be the best part of life right? I agree! Hence, I am not much of a planner these days. I enjoy the idea of waking up wondering what is going to happen next.
Reminds me of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. Rememeber those? (woops. side note)
I hate the anticipation of a planned event that turns out the less exciting. A highly awaited kiss, a promotion at that job you slave over, the vacation that gets rained out, a stolen suitcase, a friend that gets married (then divorced), and the unhappiness that often follows when a party that was supposed to be fabulous is a sweaty soiree. (Sad, sad day when the sweaty soiree happens. Haha) In any case, I hope that not planning my vacation in its entirety, when I leave for London in two weeks will actually improve my chances of pure enjoyment. PURA VIDA.
Ciao.
Traditional existentialists dressed in black and "mourned" the life they were shrouded in. Wondering if these societal constraints were a mere construct of a life imposed, never chosen. The existentialist chooses her way to live each day. Consequently, those most spontaneous things should be the best part of life right? I agree! Hence, I am not much of a planner these days. I enjoy the idea of waking up wondering what is going to happen next.
Reminds me of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books. Rememeber those? (woops. side note)
I hate the anticipation of a planned event that turns out the less exciting. A highly awaited kiss, a promotion at that job you slave over, the vacation that gets rained out, a stolen suitcase, a friend that gets married (then divorced), and the unhappiness that often follows when a party that was supposed to be fabulous is a sweaty soiree. (Sad, sad day when the sweaty soiree happens. Haha) In any case, I hope that not planning my vacation in its entirety, when I leave for London in two weeks will actually improve my chances of pure enjoyment. PURA VIDA.
Ciao.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Philosophers Are Weird
...and I'm one of them. We have an odd sense of humor.
Two rednecks, Bubba and Cooter, decide to go to college. Bubba goes first, and he is advised to take maths, history and logic.
-- "What's logic?" says Bubba.
-- "Well, let me give you an example," says the professor. "Do you own a tractor?"
-- "Sure do," says Bubba.
-- "Okay. Then I assume, using logic, that you have a yard."
-- "That's real good," says Bubba, in awe.
-- "Logic also tells me that since you have a yard, you also have a house. Is that right?"
-- "Gawly!” says Bubba.
-- "And since you own a house and a house is tough to take care of by yourself, the odds are that you have a wife. Right?"
-- "Betty Mae! This is incredible!"
-- "Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume you are heterosexual. Is that right?"
-- "You are absolutely right! Why that's the most fascinatin' thang I ever heerd of. I can't wait to take this here logic class!" Bubba, proud of the new world opening up to him, goes back into the hallway where Cooter is waiting.
-- "So what classes are ya takin’?" says Cooter.
-- "Maths, history and logic," says Bubba.
-- "What in tarnation is logic?"
-- "Let me give you an example," says Bubba. "Do you own a tractor?"
-- "No."
-- "Then you’re gay."
***
Question: What do you get when you cross a postmodernist with a mafia boss? --- Answer: An offer you can't understand.
Two rednecks, Bubba and Cooter, decide to go to college. Bubba goes first, and he is advised to take maths, history and logic.
-- "What's logic?" says Bubba.
-- "Well, let me give you an example," says the professor. "Do you own a tractor?"
-- "Sure do," says Bubba.
-- "Okay. Then I assume, using logic, that you have a yard."
-- "That's real good," says Bubba, in awe.
-- "Logic also tells me that since you have a yard, you also have a house. Is that right?"
-- "Gawly!” says Bubba.
-- "And since you own a house and a house is tough to take care of by yourself, the odds are that you have a wife. Right?"
-- "Betty Mae! This is incredible!"
-- "Finally, since you have a wife, logically I can assume you are heterosexual. Is that right?"
-- "You are absolutely right! Why that's the most fascinatin' thang I ever heerd of. I can't wait to take this here logic class!" Bubba, proud of the new world opening up to him, goes back into the hallway where Cooter is waiting.
-- "So what classes are ya takin’?" says Cooter.
-- "Maths, history and logic," says Bubba.
-- "What in tarnation is logic?"
-- "Let me give you an example," says Bubba. "Do you own a tractor?"
-- "No."
-- "Then you’re gay."
***
Question: What do you get when you cross a postmodernist with a mafia boss? --- Answer: An offer you can't understand.
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