That is to say, there are rules. Perhaps these rules were not meant to be broken after all. Then again, I’m having a great time.
Rule #1 Fred is a Fucking Idiot.
Rule #2 When presented with two paths, all things being equal, Follow the Hot Chicks.
Rule #3 Play games to your heart’s content. But never, under any circumstances, should one Purchase game pieces.
Yeah, it’s that third one that got me. Here’s the deal though. An addendum, if you will, to Rule #3: When an item may be used by a group of players, the item may be purchased. This excludes items such as ANY Magic: The Gathering card. These cards must be used by one person in their own deck. This does not exclude items such as support figures in the Wizkids game Heroclix.
One may apparently spend almost two hundred bucks on ‘support characters for the group.’ Whether or not this rule is being followed when a $120 Jean Grey Phoenix is purchased is still in committee (consider the scenarios! Dark Phoenix then Phoenix vs every other click created! Yes. I know you are tiring of the escalated level of Geek at this point).
Justification of one’s own silly actions aside, I have been playing Heroclix about once every two weeks for the last couple of months, and really enjoying it. The group of friends that I play with, has for a time, filled the social void left by school’s intermission. If you have Geek tendencies, especially if you like comic books, check out Heroclix. Do not violate Rule #3 though.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
A leave of absence of mind. (In binary form)
I’m not a fan of puns masquerading as titles. On occasions when I encounter punny titles I generally feel that the author is condescending. Or worse: being cute. I swear I have been none of the above. Rather, I have been brutally honest. I could have chosen, “A leave of absence An absence of mind,” this would not capture the duality of the absence which I have taken.
The last year has been one of many changes. For starters I put my overly substantial undergraduate studies behind me. At the same time I left a city and community that I was growing to love. I lost two relatives, one of which was my last remaining grandparent. I then left friends and family behind to move across the country. This trend of Changes did not cease in California. My vision of playing in orchestra full time has been lain to rest; the more precise vision of freelance music (oxymoron?) replacing it. Finally my journey to enter ministry has halted, for I have begun falling in love with a young lady. This will not be my last year of changes, but it certainly has been the most drastic to date.
The California Institute of the Arts
This Los Angeles art school is where I have chosen to pursue a graduate degree. My time here has been one of finding ways to tap into creative abilities. I have tried composition and song writing. I have engaged in deep consideration of composer’s intentions. I have even collaborated with artists from other métier. While each of these experiences have been valuable in some way, the greatest path to the expression of musical ideas has been one of improvisation.
The improv I have discovered is neither the improvisation of jazz musicians nor of classical cadenzas. It is contemporary free improv. Unlike more traditional forms of improvisation such as those based in jazz or ethnic musics, there are no fast rules to follow. Performers must make decisions on traditional things like intonation and volume, but they also make decisions on whether or not to play, what instrument to play, etc.
My time at Calarts has focused on small improvisation ensembles. Unless they use a form such as the jazz standard “trading-eights”, free improvisers must rely on their ears and their intuition to tell them when to play. When one has decided to play, they must then make a decision on each of two subjects: whether to play in a complementary fashion to the other performers, or to go against the other sounds, and whether their idea is what should be heard as a melody, or a supporting figure.
Performers generally play someone else’s music. Therefore, creating is something performers don’t experience in abundance. Within this style of improvisation a performer must make many decisions based solely on their musical intuition. Herein the performer is also creator.
Note: I am publishing for the next few weeks simply to get used to writing once again. To this end I will be resurrecting unfinished entries and posting them even if they still suck. Case in point: the second half of this one
The last year has been one of many changes. For starters I put my overly substantial undergraduate studies behind me. At the same time I left a city and community that I was growing to love. I lost two relatives, one of which was my last remaining grandparent. I then left friends and family behind to move across the country. This trend of Changes did not cease in California. My vision of playing in orchestra full time has been lain to rest; the more precise vision of freelance music (oxymoron?) replacing it. Finally my journey to enter ministry has halted, for I have begun falling in love with a young lady. This will not be my last year of changes, but it certainly has been the most drastic to date.
The California Institute of the Arts
This Los Angeles art school is where I have chosen to pursue a graduate degree. My time here has been one of finding ways to tap into creative abilities. I have tried composition and song writing. I have engaged in deep consideration of composer’s intentions. I have even collaborated with artists from other métier. While each of these experiences have been valuable in some way, the greatest path to the expression of musical ideas has been one of improvisation.
The improv I have discovered is neither the improvisation of jazz musicians nor of classical cadenzas. It is contemporary free improv. Unlike more traditional forms of improvisation such as those based in jazz or ethnic musics, there are no fast rules to follow. Performers must make decisions on traditional things like intonation and volume, but they also make decisions on whether or not to play, what instrument to play, etc.
My time at Calarts has focused on small improvisation ensembles. Unless they use a form such as the jazz standard “trading-eights”, free improvisers must rely on their ears and their intuition to tell them when to play. When one has decided to play, they must then make a decision on each of two subjects: whether to play in a complementary fashion to the other performers, or to go against the other sounds, and whether their idea is what should be heard as a melody, or a supporting figure.
Performers generally play someone else’s music. Therefore, creating is something performers don’t experience in abundance. Within this style of improvisation a performer must make many decisions based solely on their musical intuition. Herein the performer is also creator.
Note: I am publishing for the next few weeks simply to get used to writing once again. To this end I will be resurrecting unfinished entries and posting them even if they still suck. Case in point: the second half of this one
Page 123 Sentence 5
Page 123
The rules:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around and look for the coolest book you can find. Do what's actually next to you.
"Frau Stoehr, sitting just a little behind him, had an expression on here face revealing such ignorant ecstasy that it was pitiful to behold, while Fraulein Levi of the ivory complexion sat leaning back in her chair with half-closed eyes and hands resting palms-up in her lap-and one would have taken her for a corpse if her chest had not risen and fallen with such striking regularity, although Hans Castorp thought she looked more like a mechanically driven wax figure he had once seen in a sideshow."
did i mention that it's extremely difficult to read these sentences when you're dyslexic?
The rules:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around and look for the coolest book you can find. Do what's actually next to you.
"Frau Stoehr, sitting just a little behind him, had an expression on here face revealing such ignorant ecstasy that it was pitiful to behold, while Fraulein Levi of the ivory complexion sat leaning back in her chair with half-closed eyes and hands resting palms-up in her lap-and one would have taken her for a corpse if her chest had not risen and fallen with such striking regularity, although Hans Castorp thought she looked more like a mechanically driven wax figure he had once seen in a sideshow."
did i mention that it's extremely difficult to read these sentences when you're dyslexic?
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
One thing or another
I suppose I am officially off the Blog Bandwagon. I haven’t kept a weekly post schedule since October, and I am averaging less than one a month at this point. Strangely, during this time of bloglessness, I haven’t been without a creative outlet.
When asked what instruments I play, I typically respond, “The French horn is my main instrument, but I have done quite a bit of choral singing as well.” When I get the “Ok. That sounds lame,” expression, I sometimes throw in, “And I suck at the guitar.” Although this always gets a laugh, it is, regrettably, true. Whereas I understand how the horn works, and how to manipulate it to get the desired sound, I haven’t a clue where to begin on the guitar. I can play chord progressions, but generally these are some form of G – C – D - G, in a slightly higher or lower key. I can’t really play anything that doesn’t involve strumming. Individual notes are right out.
Given my incompetence, I was surprised when I started writing songs a couple of months ago. I hadn’t played in ages (this being a serious problem with guitar, as you need calluses on your fingers to avoid serious pain), and knew I couldn’t just start playing. My solution was to drink away the pain; I had enough alcohol to, at once, numb my fingers and inspire several songs.
That night I ended up recording what would be three songs onto my Powerbook. Two of them are too eclectic, and one sounds like me trying to be someone else. So, I didn’t try it again the next night. Besides, alcohol is expensive.
It wasn’t until late July that I would write again. This time I didn’t need the alcohol, I had a night-long fiasco to inspire me. Strangely, as I was trying to write a song about my Fucking Curse, I managed to create two other songs. Then, as if my creativity were saying, “You’ll do what I say, punk.” I wrote a song about the curse.
When asked what instruments I play, I typically respond, “The French horn is my main instrument, but I have done quite a bit of choral singing as well.” When I get the “Ok. That sounds lame,” expression, I sometimes throw in, “And I suck at the guitar.” Although this always gets a laugh, it is, regrettably, true. Whereas I understand how the horn works, and how to manipulate it to get the desired sound, I haven’t a clue where to begin on the guitar. I can play chord progressions, but generally these are some form of G – C – D - G, in a slightly higher or lower key. I can’t really play anything that doesn’t involve strumming. Individual notes are right out.
Given my incompetence, I was surprised when I started writing songs a couple of months ago. I hadn’t played in ages (this being a serious problem with guitar, as you need calluses on your fingers to avoid serious pain), and knew I couldn’t just start playing. My solution was to drink away the pain; I had enough alcohol to, at once, numb my fingers and inspire several songs.
That night I ended up recording what would be three songs onto my Powerbook. Two of them are too eclectic, and one sounds like me trying to be someone else. So, I didn’t try it again the next night. Besides, alcohol is expensive.
It wasn’t until late July that I would write again. This time I didn’t need the alcohol, I had a night-long fiasco to inspire me. Strangely, as I was trying to write a song about my Fucking Curse, I managed to create two other songs. Then, as if my creativity were saying, “You’ll do what I say, punk.” I wrote a song about the curse.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Bit about Me
I wrote the following a couple years ago in response to a prompt. We were asked to consider an event or situation that has either directed or otherwise altered our course. What I came up with is interesting. It is horribly disjunct, and somehow gets the point across. I liked it, and decided a while back to expand it, and make it a bit less pedantic. The result will be out eventually, but till then, enjoy.
It is well within my nature to be clever. Barry-ish humour pervades my writing. This will not do at this time however. For, although the majority of childhood memories that remain are filled with comedy, the one I cannot forget is nothing of the sort.
It is by no means proper to teach children economical status or the disadvantages of lower social status. Children are supposed to begin school without the walls that socio-economic status creates. I am nothing if not abnormal.
I don’t remember my first day of school. I can recall neither looking just like the other five-year-olds, nor wondering why everyone else cried to see their parents leave them in the morning. I can not even remember being curious later that day as to how everyone seemed to know what each other’s dads did for a living.
I don’t remember crying when I was informed that every other dad was better than mine: the coal miner.
I have seen the insides of my dad’s office. A mountain. I have dressed up in his uniform upon several Halloween occasions. In short, I know my dad’s job pretty well. And it is a cool job. What does a lawyer do anyway? And why the hell do they tease me about my favourite shoes? It’s not like one just goes out and gets a new pair every time the get a hole.
But that’s just it isn’t it.
Apparently the other children had lots of new things. I was a minority. If I had associated with those like myself I would have to have given up interest in school. Somehow being the child of a coal miner was equivocal with being a loser. I was quickly on the road of the ‘scholarship boy.’
I had become a diversion. With humour and superior academics, I had managed to obscure the fact that my family was not as cool as it was supposed to be. I almost had myself convinced.
It is by no means proper to teach children economical status or the disadvantages of lower social status. There are words that must not be said too early in a child’s life. I wish my mother had read this.
Try as you may, there are concepts that children will not grasp. Tell a six-year-old that they are going to die eventually, and they may sing a silly song about death. If one mentions to a friend that they have discovered that they are bankrupt and that the bank may foreclose, an overhearing child will be utterly confused.
Unless that child was raised in the age of ‘Monopoly.’ Thanks to the wonders of family entertainment, I understood perfectly what my mother had just told her friend. All of my achievements were about to be disposed of, and I was suddenly afraid of becoming another noun a child should never have cause to fear: homeless.
I would like to say that this stopped affecting me later on in life, but I never really know whether that is true. Once I had planned to be a trauma specialist.
My passion for music has led me far away from that small town, and far away from the field of medicine. It was never really about money though, I suppose. I wanted to do medicine to help people in Africa who were worse off than I had experienced.
Rather, it is about distance. As a musician, I have the opportunity to perform all over the world. I can travel the world and make music with people whose speech I cannot even understand. And sometimes, when I feel like reminding myself that other people cannot tell me who to be, I can go home.
It is well within my nature to be clever. Barry-ish humour pervades my writing. This will not do at this time however. For, although the majority of childhood memories that remain are filled with comedy, the one I cannot forget is nothing of the sort.
It is by no means proper to teach children economical status or the disadvantages of lower social status. Children are supposed to begin school without the walls that socio-economic status creates. I am nothing if not abnormal.
I don’t remember my first day of school. I can recall neither looking just like the other five-year-olds, nor wondering why everyone else cried to see their parents leave them in the morning. I can not even remember being curious later that day as to how everyone seemed to know what each other’s dads did for a living.
I don’t remember crying when I was informed that every other dad was better than mine: the coal miner.
I have seen the insides of my dad’s office. A mountain. I have dressed up in his uniform upon several Halloween occasions. In short, I know my dad’s job pretty well. And it is a cool job. What does a lawyer do anyway? And why the hell do they tease me about my favourite shoes? It’s not like one just goes out and gets a new pair every time the get a hole.
But that’s just it isn’t it.
Apparently the other children had lots of new things. I was a minority. If I had associated with those like myself I would have to have given up interest in school. Somehow being the child of a coal miner was equivocal with being a loser. I was quickly on the road of the ‘scholarship boy.’
I had become a diversion. With humour and superior academics, I had managed to obscure the fact that my family was not as cool as it was supposed to be. I almost had myself convinced.
It is by no means proper to teach children economical status or the disadvantages of lower social status. There are words that must not be said too early in a child’s life. I wish my mother had read this.
Try as you may, there are concepts that children will not grasp. Tell a six-year-old that they are going to die eventually, and they may sing a silly song about death. If one mentions to a friend that they have discovered that they are bankrupt and that the bank may foreclose, an overhearing child will be utterly confused.
Unless that child was raised in the age of ‘Monopoly.’ Thanks to the wonders of family entertainment, I understood perfectly what my mother had just told her friend. All of my achievements were about to be disposed of, and I was suddenly afraid of becoming another noun a child should never have cause to fear: homeless.
I would like to say that this stopped affecting me later on in life, but I never really know whether that is true. Once I had planned to be a trauma specialist.
My passion for music has led me far away from that small town, and far away from the field of medicine. It was never really about money though, I suppose. I wanted to do medicine to help people in Africa who were worse off than I had experienced.
Rather, it is about distance. As a musician, I have the opportunity to perform all over the world. I can travel the world and make music with people whose speech I cannot even understand. And sometimes, when I feel like reminding myself that other people cannot tell me who to be, I can go home.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Me falda un tio, y no se donde verle.
It is almost irreverant to say this, but I am tired of having to process my personal eulogies. They are taxing. And, they are issues of death. I have almost finished my tribute to beloved grandmother, and this morning, at 4am, the oldest brother of my father passed away due to a heart attack. It has been fewer than two weeks since I have been in this place.
I just don't know.
Logan (Hoss) Hurt II, rest in Christ's peace.
I just don't know.
Logan (Hoss) Hurt II, rest in Christ's peace.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Movin Out
My efforts for the next few months will be aimed westward. Conversely, my writings over the next few months will, I am certain, exude nostalgia and remorse. I am soon to be a former Kentuckian.
After several years of planning, waiting, and chemical testing (read: two months) I now know what I am going to be doing this fall. I will be attending the California Institute of the Arts (www.calarts.edu) where I will pursue a masters of fine arts with a concentration in music performance. I will be living on the left coast. I will be living in LA.
This is nutz.
And I still haven’t quite grasped all that will go into getting myself over there and being ready to go.
For now, I will enjoy what’s left of my time as a Louisvillian. I will enjoy Pimps & Ho’s. I will watch Thunder with my parents. I will laugh at all the people getting hammered at the Derby. I will party like I was a freshman again, and then go out to my favourite bars. Just for rediculousness. I will shave my head (this one is still in committee), simply because it just came to me. I will read Marcel Proust, and frickin enjoy it. I will turn the channel on my dad’s truck’s radio ASAP when Louisville’s favourite crap music plays. I will hang out with Delaney Jane Dill, one of the coolest babies I have had the pleasure to meet. I will kindle the flames of brotherhood with my big, little, and grandlittle brothers. I will enjoy the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I will enjoy Sin City again. I will spend approximately 15 hours in a theatre on May 19th, watching the EXACT same movie over and over. And get chill bumps every time it starts. I will listen to my nifty read-versions of the Harry Potter series, and then read, in one day, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I will play in the Sacred Winds Ensemble for the 5th year in a row. I will have barbequed elk meat on toothpicks. I will teach music students from Eastern Kentucky, and inspire in them an awareness of music’s important role in the enrichment of the human spirit. And they might just get it.
Stream of consciousness moment. It is really difficult now that I try to relate plans to actually, shut up itunes, get them 1) in order, 1) all there, 1) without having thought of it. So to make sure I don’t sound like one of those lists that tells you to make your own list of things to do, I will instead say, “Screw you! I busy.”
After several years of planning, waiting, and chemical testing (read: two months) I now know what I am going to be doing this fall. I will be attending the California Institute of the Arts (www.calarts.edu) where I will pursue a masters of fine arts with a concentration in music performance. I will be living on the left coast. I will be living in LA.
This is nutz.
And I still haven’t quite grasped all that will go into getting myself over there and being ready to go.
For now, I will enjoy what’s left of my time as a Louisvillian. I will enjoy Pimps & Ho’s. I will watch Thunder with my parents. I will laugh at all the people getting hammered at the Derby. I will party like I was a freshman again, and then go out to my favourite bars. Just for rediculousness. I will shave my head (this one is still in committee), simply because it just came to me. I will read Marcel Proust, and frickin enjoy it. I will turn the channel on my dad’s truck’s radio ASAP when Louisville’s favourite crap music plays. I will hang out with Delaney Jane Dill, one of the coolest babies I have had the pleasure to meet. I will kindle the flames of brotherhood with my big, little, and grandlittle brothers. I will enjoy the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I will enjoy Sin City again. I will spend approximately 15 hours in a theatre on May 19th, watching the EXACT same movie over and over. And get chill bumps every time it starts. I will listen to my nifty read-versions of the Harry Potter series, and then read, in one day, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I will play in the Sacred Winds Ensemble for the 5th year in a row. I will have barbequed elk meat on toothpicks. I will teach music students from Eastern Kentucky, and inspire in them an awareness of music’s important role in the enrichment of the human spirit. And they might just get it.
Stream of consciousness moment. It is really difficult now that I try to relate plans to actually, shut up itunes, get them 1) in order, 1) all there, 1) without having thought of it. So to make sure I don’t sound like one of those lists that tells you to make your own list of things to do, I will instead say, “Screw you! I busy.”
Monday, March 07, 2005
Out There
People on dates try to present the best side of themselves at all times. This is not a problem when dating a recent acquaintance. In this situation the other person is suspending their disbelief that the opposite sex is treacherous. At least regarding their date. At least for dinner. So it is with this ninety-meter head start that we are able to portray ourselves as we want to be seen, rather than the vile, disgusting creatures we see in the mirror.
This is not the case with dates involving friends, though. Friends know things. Sometimes, friends know too many things, and they must be disposed of. But these are special circumstances, and I promised the nice people at county that I wouldn’t talk about it to anyone.
It isn’t as if the date wasn’t enough of a challenge. The girl has grown up to be gorgeous, leaving her hometown’s 3 or 4 for 9’s and 10’s. Simply talking to her has ceased to be simple, as my eyes plot against me. Any sanctuary such as the eyes has become hostile. By glancing into them I am taken aback, reminded of “Lily’s Hazel Eyes,” and become ensnared. To free myself I lower my eyes, and in my mind’s eye behold Bethar. Cognizant of my longing to see such a landscape in person, again I flee. Looking away I regard drabness: the world. Now drawn back from the recesses of my imagination I realize that I have, of course, NOT been paying attention to the speech of the girl sitting across from me. And I am still staring into space. Firmly in control of my senses, I return to her gaze. Damn those hazel eyes. I told you this was already tough enough.
It is as if she had been waiting for a signal from the insurgents within my mind. Perhaps a flare claiming victory over the sovereign me, and all my faculties. She asks me, “Where do you see yourself in twenty years?” It’s an easy enough question (And anticlimactic in lots of ways, I know. Don’t blame me though, I already informed you that I don’t write these stories.). Nonetheless, I was taken aback by my lack of latitude. I had never been put to the question by someone that actually knows me. Having been asked this or some similar question several times recently, I scanned my veritable filing cabinet of answers that I had produced. It was to no avail. Nothing seemed apropos for this discussion.
Realizing that I really wasn’t trying to impress, but rather survive a discussion with a pretty lady, I volunteered ignorance. I have no idea where I will be in twenty years. Having had my life determined for me to this point, I am become Yoda, declaring, “Hard to see the future is. The dark side clouds everything.” I feel I could see something if only my gaze were guided. Or maybe, like my myopic eyes, my mind needs corrective lenses.
That sounds great. And it is even mildly poetic. I’m not certain that isn’t just an attempt to circumvent the issue though. There has really been no point even I can discern within this post, so I wouldn’t expect too much in the way of a conclusion either. We'll revisit this one later, when it has settled.
This is not the case with dates involving friends, though. Friends know things. Sometimes, friends know too many things, and they must be disposed of. But these are special circumstances, and I promised the nice people at county that I wouldn’t talk about it to anyone.
It isn’t as if the date wasn’t enough of a challenge. The girl has grown up to be gorgeous, leaving her hometown’s 3 or 4 for 9’s and 10’s. Simply talking to her has ceased to be simple, as my eyes plot against me. Any sanctuary such as the eyes has become hostile. By glancing into them I am taken aback, reminded of “Lily’s Hazel Eyes,” and become ensnared. To free myself I lower my eyes, and in my mind’s eye behold Bethar. Cognizant of my longing to see such a landscape in person, again I flee. Looking away I regard drabness: the world. Now drawn back from the recesses of my imagination I realize that I have, of course, NOT been paying attention to the speech of the girl sitting across from me. And I am still staring into space. Firmly in control of my senses, I return to her gaze. Damn those hazel eyes. I told you this was already tough enough.
It is as if she had been waiting for a signal from the insurgents within my mind. Perhaps a flare claiming victory over the sovereign me, and all my faculties. She asks me, “Where do you see yourself in twenty years?” It’s an easy enough question (And anticlimactic in lots of ways, I know. Don’t blame me though, I already informed you that I don’t write these stories.). Nonetheless, I was taken aback by my lack of latitude. I had never been put to the question by someone that actually knows me. Having been asked this or some similar question several times recently, I scanned my veritable filing cabinet of answers that I had produced. It was to no avail. Nothing seemed apropos for this discussion.
Realizing that I really wasn’t trying to impress, but rather survive a discussion with a pretty lady, I volunteered ignorance. I have no idea where I will be in twenty years. Having had my life determined for me to this point, I am become Yoda, declaring, “Hard to see the future is. The dark side clouds everything.” I feel I could see something if only my gaze were guided. Or maybe, like my myopic eyes, my mind needs corrective lenses.
That sounds great. And it is even mildly poetic. I’m not certain that isn’t just an attempt to circumvent the issue though. There has really been no point even I can discern within this post, so I wouldn’t expect too much in the way of a conclusion either. We'll revisit this one later, when it has settled.
Friday, November 26, 2004
a little break
I realize now after having been asked several times where I have been that I should relate my plan. I currently find myself knee deep in a bog of essays. Last month, it was concerts. Next month, who knows?
I will return in January, where I hope to keep a two post - per week schedule.
Have a nice December and New Year's.
I will return in January, where I hope to keep a two post - per week schedule.
Have a nice December and New Year's.
Monday, October 18, 2004
>or < Monday
At this point I am just glad to be sitting on my couch. Friday I traveled from Louisville to a town near Memphis with my dad, only to return the next morning. Rather than making it back to Louisville though, I opted to be dropped off in Bowling Green, Ky. I arrived in Louisville around 3 AM.
It has been an interesting weekend. I’ll add the stories from the trip to my ever-growing list of things I should have done yesterday.
I will mention a concept that I began considering recently though…
There seems to be an inconsistency within the idea of ‘democracy on the move.’ I refer to the way the spread of democracy is framed in modern politics. Generally, the idea means that governments are overthrown by a democratic society in order to give the population of a country democracy.
The idea of pushing democracy in this fashion seems odd. I am not sure what I think, but I do feel the more abstract question raised is, “Is it a moral obligation to ensure civil liberties?” If so, one could claim that democracy should be forcefully spread if necessary.
Any thoughts?
It has been an interesting weekend. I’ll add the stories from the trip to my ever-growing list of things I should have done yesterday.
I will mention a concept that I began considering recently though…
There seems to be an inconsistency within the idea of ‘democracy on the move.’ I refer to the way the spread of democracy is framed in modern politics. Generally, the idea means that governments are overthrown by a democratic society in order to give the population of a country democracy.
The idea of pushing democracy in this fashion seems odd. I am not sure what I think, but I do feel the more abstract question raised is, “Is it a moral obligation to ensure civil liberties?” If so, one could claim that democracy should be forcefully spread if necessary.
Any thoughts?
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Thursday Morning
I am still suffering from visiting the central time zone.
What is it about the concept utility that makes it so attractive? To date, the majority from the outset has rejected each idea that has been discussed in my ethics class. Somehow this did not happen with utilitarianism.
Different questions: Do we really use utility to justify decisions? Is it right/wrong to consider the (anticipated) consequences of one’s actions?
I am sure this will be expanded in a later post.
I picked up Wil Wheaton’s Just a Geek over the weekend. Despite having a ton of work on my plate I have managed to read a bit, and it looks good. It is not quite like having purchased an updated and physical copy of his blog. In fact, there is a substantial amount of freestanding writing within. Consistent with other Wheaton material I have seen, it is at once really funny, engaging, and true.
I will get around to relating stories of Café Mozart and the Berghoff (one of which I highly recommend, one of which I recommend a title alteration) as soon as I have an evening of my own.
What is it about the concept utility that makes it so attractive? To date, the majority from the outset has rejected each idea that has been discussed in my ethics class. Somehow this did not happen with utilitarianism.
Different questions: Do we really use utility to justify decisions? Is it right/wrong to consider the (anticipated) consequences of one’s actions?
I am sure this will be expanded in a later post.
I picked up Wil Wheaton’s Just a Geek over the weekend. Despite having a ton of work on my plate I have managed to read a bit, and it looks good. It is not quite like having purchased an updated and physical copy of his blog. In fact, there is a substantial amount of freestanding writing within. Consistent with other Wheaton material I have seen, it is at once really funny, engaging, and true.
I will get around to relating stories of Café Mozart and the Berghoff (one of which I highly recommend, one of which I recommend a title alteration) as soon as I have an evening of my own.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Fall Break's End
The annual blessing that is fall break has come to an end. I have traveled to Chicago and have had a blast. I will relate the stories as soon as possible.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Several Things
1. I am pleased to say that I have almost completed the three busiest weeks of the fall. Tomorrow morning I have a test, then I have a really long chorale rehearsal until 4. Then I am done. In celebration I will be traveling to Chicago to visit Northwestern and hear a couple of concerts.
2. I have recently been introduced to the wonderful idea of pass/fail grading. I don’t know how I missed this concept for 6 years, but I get the feeling that I am going to be glad at the end of the term that I have discovered it. In general, during a semester of high workload in one’s degree area, that person may relieve GPA pressure by taking an elective via pass/fail grading. Es bueno.
3. I have had ten roommates. Of the ten, I have had a vast majority of losers. Historical trends notwithstanding, I must say I am quite pleased with my current living arrangements. Ben is not only a great musician but a fabulous human being. I only hope I don’t convert him to my habit of staying up way late.
4. It occurred to me today that I need to mention debt. I am eternally in debt to Kevin K, as he literally saved my life when I was young. As a small child, I once darted into the road to board a school bus, as an oncoming driver ignored the stop sign. Kevin grabbed me by my shirt and jerked me out of the road, earning me these last 19 years of life. Thank you again.
5. The ‘worst month ever’ is officially over. Everyone can come out of hiding now…
2. I have recently been introduced to the wonderful idea of pass/fail grading. I don’t know how I missed this concept for 6 years, but I get the feeling that I am going to be glad at the end of the term that I have discovered it. In general, during a semester of high workload in one’s degree area, that person may relieve GPA pressure by taking an elective via pass/fail grading. Es bueno.
3. I have had ten roommates. Of the ten, I have had a vast majority of losers. Historical trends notwithstanding, I must say I am quite pleased with my current living arrangements. Ben is not only a great musician but a fabulous human being. I only hope I don’t convert him to my habit of staying up way late.
4. It occurred to me today that I need to mention debt. I am eternally in debt to Kevin K, as he literally saved my life when I was young. As a small child, I once darted into the road to board a school bus, as an oncoming driver ignored the stop sign. Kevin grabbed me by my shirt and jerked me out of the road, earning me these last 19 years of life. Thank you again.
5. The ‘worst month ever’ is officially over. Everyone can come out of hiding now…
Thursday, October 07, 2004
working on the i in Nostalgia
It isn’t like turning 25 brought on a sense of nostalgia. My memory doesn’t work that way. I have simply refrained from speaking with anyone about the way things used to be. Whether my fear be that no available listener could understand in more than a general way, or worse, the listener would simply laugh at me for being old, I have kept the longings for things gone to myself.
Nostalgia seems irreverent of audience though. Most times I have been nostalgic I have not been surrounded by anyone from the era for which the nostalgia was felt. But maybe that’s just stating the obvious. Perhaps nostalgia ONLY overcomes you when you are in a familiar place with unfamiliar people.
I must introduce a concept into my discussion: Kitsch.
In his novel, “The Unbearable Lightness of Being,” Milan Kundera presents kitsch as “…the absolute denial of shit, in both the literal and the figurative senses of the word; kitsch excludes everything from its purview which is essentially unacceptable in human existence (Kundera, 248. Harper & Row Publishers).”
I would like to think that I have consistently examined my surrounding kitsch throughout my life. This would be an absurd assumption on my part though. If I only consider those times since I left my hometown though, I may find sporadic points where I was aware of my own personal kitsch. It is these moments for which I experience nostalgia.
And once again, perhaps this is the obvious, or it’s just the way I am, but I don’t feel nostalgia for the times and places of my past, but for the people that filled those settings. The weird thing here is, although I am still in contact with several of the people that live in my memories, I don’t feel that I can speak with them about the times past. In some cases I have let fear lead me as far as refusing to contact great friends that I have had (e.g. John L).
I don’t know how to close this line of thought. Perhaps there is more here than I have touched on though.
Nostalgia seems irreverent of audience though. Most times I have been nostalgic I have not been surrounded by anyone from the era for which the nostalgia was felt. But maybe that’s just stating the obvious. Perhaps nostalgia ONLY overcomes you when you are in a familiar place with unfamiliar people.
I must introduce a concept into my discussion: Kitsch.
In his novel, “The Unbearable Lightness of Being,” Milan Kundera presents kitsch as “…the absolute denial of shit, in both the literal and the figurative senses of the word; kitsch excludes everything from its purview which is essentially unacceptable in human existence (Kundera, 248. Harper & Row Publishers).”
I would like to think that I have consistently examined my surrounding kitsch throughout my life. This would be an absurd assumption on my part though. If I only consider those times since I left my hometown though, I may find sporadic points where I was aware of my own personal kitsch. It is these moments for which I experience nostalgia.
And once again, perhaps this is the obvious, or it’s just the way I am, but I don’t feel nostalgia for the times and places of my past, but for the people that filled those settings. The weird thing here is, although I am still in contact with several of the people that live in my memories, I don’t feel that I can speak with them about the times past. In some cases I have let fear lead me as far as refusing to contact great friends that I have had (e.g. John L).
I don’t know how to close this line of thought. Perhaps there is more here than I have touched on though.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Birthday Warning
Due to recent events, I must warn the general public about birthday celebrations.
By no means should someone celebrate their birthday ahead of schedule. Not even slightly. I am afraid the consequence of premature celebration is a less than perfect birthday.
I am not feeling horrible today, but I did wake up with the worst version of a head cold that I have had in quite a while.
This week should be the last of my freetimeless weeks. So until next week, when I plan to return to daily writing, you may want to check out my personal favourite blog: www.wilwheaton.net .
pax
By no means should someone celebrate their birthday ahead of schedule. Not even slightly. I am afraid the consequence of premature celebration is a less than perfect birthday.
I am not feeling horrible today, but I did wake up with the worst version of a head cold that I have had in quite a while.
This week should be the last of my freetimeless weeks. So until next week, when I plan to return to daily writing, you may want to check out my personal favourite blog: www.wilwheaton.net .
pax
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
I'm Edward Bloom
This will not mean as much to those who have not seen Big Fish.
So my very own Sandra Templeton is walking around campus each and every day. Sometimes I see her on the way to class. Other times I am lucky enough to run into her as I am leaving campus. When I see her I take the chance to speak to her. Alas though, she is Sandra Templeton. She is taken.
When Edward Bloom first sees Sandra Templeton, time stands still. Perhaps this is something that happens differently to each man, or maybe the movie just got it wrong. When I saw Miss Templeton for the first time, time itself did not stand still. I saw Sandra, then I saw her leave. There was, in fact, nothing peculiar about time at all. I definitely noticed that I was as quickly deprived of her beauty as I was introduced to it. An interesting thing did happen though: the rest of the evening happened as background events. Actions were memorable due only to the fortuity that they happened on the day that I saw the most beautiful woman alive. This was three years ago.
Imagine my surprise when, at the beginning of the term, I start passing her on my way to, and from, classes. I had only seen Sandra a couple of times in the years following the first encounter, and had never spoken to her, so I never thought anything of seeing her with regularity. It was just a bonus.
Three weeks ago I made the mistake of mentioning to a friend that I had been seeing this beautiful lady quite frequently. Of course, my friend turns out to be her friend too (for now let’s not go into how I didn’t’ figure this out earlier). Also, of course, my friend tells me to introduce myself to Sandra, which I managed to do soon after. In the following weeks I had the pleasure of walking to and from class with Miss Templeton, talking about oddities of class. We discussed whatever happened to be about the day.
My problems didn’t begin until I asked a friend about her. Apparently Miss Templeton was not only gorgeous; she was also one of the most amazing people alive. Friends and acquaintances spoke univocally of her caring and kindness. Literally every time I mentioned the name ‘Sandra Templeton’, someone nearby said, “She’s so sweet.” I was beginning to think that I had encountered a regular fount of concern for others. I was beginning to find Miss Templeton quite attractive. It didn’t take long to decide whether or not I would ask her out. I had a little chip on my shoulder cautioning me to not to expose myself, and years of existential thought telling me that I only have one chance to make live ‘abundant.’
I wasn’t sure how I was going to ask her out, but I didn't have to wait long for an opportune moment. When I couldn’t reach her to invite her to lunch one day, I knew that I had found my opportunity: It was a day that I normally walked from class with Sandra.
I left class early, and headed to the library. After getting a bit of advice I grabbed a friend and proceeded to run to my vehicle. The time was 2:45, and I am guessing Sandra usually gets to her car around 3:20. In order that I may not be seen, I had to make it back by 3:15 at the latest. Luckily, I managed to drive from the school to a local florist and back in less than twenty minutes. When I spotted her car I knew that I still had a chance. I placed on her windshield a card that I had bought, on which I had written, “I can never catch you for lunch; Would you like to try dinner instead?”
I also placed a single white rose.
Do not forget her name though. We are still talking about Sandra Templeton, and Sandra is taken.
And the worst part? This is a true story. I don’t have writers giving me lines, and noone is deciding for Miss Templeton whether or not to allow Ed into her life. If I shower Miss Templeton with the movie's unasked-for affection, I am afraid I will drive her even further away.
I’m sorry that this story doesn’t really have a great ending. Although don’t blame me, I didn’t write it.
So my very own Sandra Templeton is walking around campus each and every day. Sometimes I see her on the way to class. Other times I am lucky enough to run into her as I am leaving campus. When I see her I take the chance to speak to her. Alas though, she is Sandra Templeton. She is taken.
When Edward Bloom first sees Sandra Templeton, time stands still. Perhaps this is something that happens differently to each man, or maybe the movie just got it wrong. When I saw Miss Templeton for the first time, time itself did not stand still. I saw Sandra, then I saw her leave. There was, in fact, nothing peculiar about time at all. I definitely noticed that I was as quickly deprived of her beauty as I was introduced to it. An interesting thing did happen though: the rest of the evening happened as background events. Actions were memorable due only to the fortuity that they happened on the day that I saw the most beautiful woman alive. This was three years ago.
Imagine my surprise when, at the beginning of the term, I start passing her on my way to, and from, classes. I had only seen Sandra a couple of times in the years following the first encounter, and had never spoken to her, so I never thought anything of seeing her with regularity. It was just a bonus.
Three weeks ago I made the mistake of mentioning to a friend that I had been seeing this beautiful lady quite frequently. Of course, my friend turns out to be her friend too (for now let’s not go into how I didn’t’ figure this out earlier). Also, of course, my friend tells me to introduce myself to Sandra, which I managed to do soon after. In the following weeks I had the pleasure of walking to and from class with Miss Templeton, talking about oddities of class. We discussed whatever happened to be about the day.
My problems didn’t begin until I asked a friend about her. Apparently Miss Templeton was not only gorgeous; she was also one of the most amazing people alive. Friends and acquaintances spoke univocally of her caring and kindness. Literally every time I mentioned the name ‘Sandra Templeton’, someone nearby said, “She’s so sweet.” I was beginning to think that I had encountered a regular fount of concern for others. I was beginning to find Miss Templeton quite attractive. It didn’t take long to decide whether or not I would ask her out. I had a little chip on my shoulder cautioning me to not to expose myself, and years of existential thought telling me that I only have one chance to make live ‘abundant.’
I wasn’t sure how I was going to ask her out, but I didn't have to wait long for an opportune moment. When I couldn’t reach her to invite her to lunch one day, I knew that I had found my opportunity: It was a day that I normally walked from class with Sandra.
I left class early, and headed to the library. After getting a bit of advice I grabbed a friend and proceeded to run to my vehicle. The time was 2:45, and I am guessing Sandra usually gets to her car around 3:20. In order that I may not be seen, I had to make it back by 3:15 at the latest. Luckily, I managed to drive from the school to a local florist and back in less than twenty minutes. When I spotted her car I knew that I still had a chance. I placed on her windshield a card that I had bought, on which I had written, “I can never catch you for lunch; Would you like to try dinner instead?”
I also placed a single white rose.
Do not forget her name though. We are still talking about Sandra Templeton, and Sandra is taken.
And the worst part? This is a true story. I don’t have writers giving me lines, and noone is deciding for Miss Templeton whether or not to allow Ed into her life. If I shower Miss Templeton with the movie's unasked-for affection, I am afraid I will drive her even further away.
I’m sorry that this story doesn’t really have a great ending. Although don’t blame me, I didn’t write it.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Ethics - lies
so here is the first of two papers i am working on. the citations are from Ayn Rand's The Virtue of Selfishness (where pg.1 = 20) and Sissela Bok's Lying.
Rand vs. Bok
Ayn Rand believes that the meaning applied to the word selfishness is a problem. She states, “In popular usage, the word ‘selfishness’ is a synonym of evil…(Rand, p.20).” Rand goes so far as to say that this popular meaning “is responsible, more than any other single factor, for the arrested moral development of mankind (ibid).”
In Rand’s view the word ‘selfishness’ has a positive value. She points out that the lexical definition of ‘selfishness’ carries no moral judgment. Rather, the definition is simply “concern with one’s own interests (ibid).” It is in the extension of this definition that Rand finds positive value. For instance it is in one’s own interest to survive. This means that it is selfish for one to survive. As surviving is generally considered a good thing, selfishness must not be considered a negative.
Rand argues that the concept of altruism has distorted the popular idea of selfishness such that it not only includes the lexical idea of ‘concern for one’s own interests,’ but also a negative moral judgment. “Altruism,” Rand states, “declares that any action taken for the benefit of others is good, and any action taken for one’s own benefit is evil (Rand, p.21).”
Rand argues that it is altruism, rather than egoism (the practice of selfishness), that should be considered evil. She argues that, “since (humans have) to support (their lives) by (their own efforts), the doctrine that concern with one’s own interests means that (the human) desire to live is evil – that (human) life, as such, is evil. No doctrine could be more evil than that (ibid.).”
Since the alternative to egoism seems to be altruism, Rand believes that we should adopt egoism as a moral code: we should be ethical egoists. There is a difference between egoism and ethical egoism that should be noted: egoism is the practice of acting in one’s own interests, while ethical egoism is the idea that one should act in one’s own interests. Whereas an observer may describe an individual who values their own interests more highly than the interests of others as an egoist, the ethical egoist would make the statement that the individual should be (and is therefore right, for) valuing their own interests more highly than the interests of others.
The concept of ethical egoism impacts moral theory. According to ethical egoism, ideas of right and wrong may need to be reconsidered. Consider the lie as an example. Lies carry a negative value in traditional moral theory. Rand’s ethical egoism does not ascribe an value to lying in general. Lying for the ethical egoist would be considered to be the right thing to do for someone in whose best rational interest it is to lie.
One may challenge this idea by suggesting that it is always in one’s best rational interest to tell a lie. Rand disagrees. Lying may have repercussions that do more harm than the amount of good that was gained from telling the lie. In cases where one knows that there will be great negative repercussions, Rand would say that the one should not lie. She endorses acting upon one’s rational self-interests. “(Ethical egoism) is not a license “to do as (one) pleases” and it is not applicable to the altruists’ image of a “selfish” brute nor to any man motivated by irrational emotions, feelings, urges, wishes or whims (Rand, p.22).” She continues, “This is said as a warning against…(those) who believe that any action, regardless of its nature, is good if it is intended for one’s own benefit (Rand, p.23).”
The case of the lie may be evaluated from another angle. Rather than starting with a moral code, one may start with the lie itself. Let us examine the lie without recourse to ethical egoism in order that we might discover whether or not Rand’s moral code is useful in all cases.
“There must be a minimal degree of trust in communication for language and action to be more than stabs in the dark (Bok, p.19).” states Sissela Bok. Further, she states, “A society, then, whose members were unable to distinguish truthful messages from deceptive ones, would collapse (Bok, p.20).” Perhaps these points provide an explanation as to why philosophers, excepting perhaps Nietzsche, have long sought to discover and express truth, rather than falsity.
Now truth and falsity (lies) are opposites. If truth seems to be desirable within societies, then lies seem to be equally undesirable. Sissela Bok believes that this desire for truth rather than falsity is appropriate. She believes that lying is morally wrong. In support of her belief, she provides three negative traits of lying: lies alter the distribution of power among the liar and the one(s) being told the lie, lies eliminate or obscure relevant alternatives, and lies manipulate the degree of uncertainty with which we look at our decisions (Bok, ps.20-21).
Power among communicating individuals is distributed evenly; all parties having the same amount of power. Lying changes this distribution by taking power from the one(s) being told a lie, and giving that power to the liar. Having more power than another is not prima facie a negative. But, taking power from someone is paramount to making them a partial slave.
Individuals make decisions based on the alternatives presented them. Another reason Bok believes lying is wrong is that lies have the ability to eliminate or obscure these relevant alternatives. When one does not know their relevant alternatives, they cannot make an informed decision.
Lying does not only obscure relevant alternatives though. It also manipulates the degree of uncertainty with which one looks at their decisions. Individuals do not simply evaluate the relevant alternatives and make a decision. They also evaluate the possible outcomes of numerous differing decisions. As lying prevents one from properly evaluating outcomes, we may once again say that lies keep one from making an informed decision.
It seems that Rand’s view that one may lie when it is in their best rational self-interest suggests that one may lie. However, Sissela Bok believes that lying is not acceptable. If one considers Rand’s view of lying in light of the information provided by Bok, it appears that there would never be a situation wherein it is in the best rational self-interest to lie. The liar must consider the consequences of lying when deciding whether or not to lie. The minimal consequences of being caught telling a lie seem to be telling lies in return. This involves a loss of personal power, the obscuring of relevant alternatives, and the manipulation of the degree of uncertainty with one considers decisions. One determining whether nor not to lie must have proof that the good achieved by their lie must be greater than the harm that may be done in response to the lie. As one may never know with certainty the future, it must be ruled out that one may lie as long as it is in their rational self-interests.
Rand vs. Bok
Ayn Rand believes that the meaning applied to the word selfishness is a problem. She states, “In popular usage, the word ‘selfishness’ is a synonym of evil…(Rand, p.20).” Rand goes so far as to say that this popular meaning “is responsible, more than any other single factor, for the arrested moral development of mankind (ibid).”
In Rand’s view the word ‘selfishness’ has a positive value. She points out that the lexical definition of ‘selfishness’ carries no moral judgment. Rather, the definition is simply “concern with one’s own interests (ibid).” It is in the extension of this definition that Rand finds positive value. For instance it is in one’s own interest to survive. This means that it is selfish for one to survive. As surviving is generally considered a good thing, selfishness must not be considered a negative.
Rand argues that the concept of altruism has distorted the popular idea of selfishness such that it not only includes the lexical idea of ‘concern for one’s own interests,’ but also a negative moral judgment. “Altruism,” Rand states, “declares that any action taken for the benefit of others is good, and any action taken for one’s own benefit is evil (Rand, p.21).”
Rand argues that it is altruism, rather than egoism (the practice of selfishness), that should be considered evil. She argues that, “since (humans have) to support (their lives) by (their own efforts), the doctrine that concern with one’s own interests means that (the human) desire to live is evil – that (human) life, as such, is evil. No doctrine could be more evil than that (ibid.).”
Since the alternative to egoism seems to be altruism, Rand believes that we should adopt egoism as a moral code: we should be ethical egoists. There is a difference between egoism and ethical egoism that should be noted: egoism is the practice of acting in one’s own interests, while ethical egoism is the idea that one should act in one’s own interests. Whereas an observer may describe an individual who values their own interests more highly than the interests of others as an egoist, the ethical egoist would make the statement that the individual should be (and is therefore right, for) valuing their own interests more highly than the interests of others.
The concept of ethical egoism impacts moral theory. According to ethical egoism, ideas of right and wrong may need to be reconsidered. Consider the lie as an example. Lies carry a negative value in traditional moral theory. Rand’s ethical egoism does not ascribe an value to lying in general. Lying for the ethical egoist would be considered to be the right thing to do for someone in whose best rational interest it is to lie.
One may challenge this idea by suggesting that it is always in one’s best rational interest to tell a lie. Rand disagrees. Lying may have repercussions that do more harm than the amount of good that was gained from telling the lie. In cases where one knows that there will be great negative repercussions, Rand would say that the one should not lie. She endorses acting upon one’s rational self-interests. “(Ethical egoism) is not a license “to do as (one) pleases” and it is not applicable to the altruists’ image of a “selfish” brute nor to any man motivated by irrational emotions, feelings, urges, wishes or whims (Rand, p.22).” She continues, “This is said as a warning against…(those) who believe that any action, regardless of its nature, is good if it is intended for one’s own benefit (Rand, p.23).”
The case of the lie may be evaluated from another angle. Rather than starting with a moral code, one may start with the lie itself. Let us examine the lie without recourse to ethical egoism in order that we might discover whether or not Rand’s moral code is useful in all cases.
“There must be a minimal degree of trust in communication for language and action to be more than stabs in the dark (Bok, p.19).” states Sissela Bok. Further, she states, “A society, then, whose members were unable to distinguish truthful messages from deceptive ones, would collapse (Bok, p.20).” Perhaps these points provide an explanation as to why philosophers, excepting perhaps Nietzsche, have long sought to discover and express truth, rather than falsity.
Now truth and falsity (lies) are opposites. If truth seems to be desirable within societies, then lies seem to be equally undesirable. Sissela Bok believes that this desire for truth rather than falsity is appropriate. She believes that lying is morally wrong. In support of her belief, she provides three negative traits of lying: lies alter the distribution of power among the liar and the one(s) being told the lie, lies eliminate or obscure relevant alternatives, and lies manipulate the degree of uncertainty with which we look at our decisions (Bok, ps.20-21).
Power among communicating individuals is distributed evenly; all parties having the same amount of power. Lying changes this distribution by taking power from the one(s) being told a lie, and giving that power to the liar. Having more power than another is not prima facie a negative. But, taking power from someone is paramount to making them a partial slave.
Individuals make decisions based on the alternatives presented them. Another reason Bok believes lying is wrong is that lies have the ability to eliminate or obscure these relevant alternatives. When one does not know their relevant alternatives, they cannot make an informed decision.
Lying does not only obscure relevant alternatives though. It also manipulates the degree of uncertainty with which one looks at their decisions. Individuals do not simply evaluate the relevant alternatives and make a decision. They also evaluate the possible outcomes of numerous differing decisions. As lying prevents one from properly evaluating outcomes, we may once again say that lies keep one from making an informed decision.
It seems that Rand’s view that one may lie when it is in their best rational self-interest suggests that one may lie. However, Sissela Bok believes that lying is not acceptable. If one considers Rand’s view of lying in light of the information provided by Bok, it appears that there would never be a situation wherein it is in the best rational self-interest to lie. The liar must consider the consequences of lying when deciding whether or not to lie. The minimal consequences of being caught telling a lie seem to be telling lies in return. This involves a loss of personal power, the obscuring of relevant alternatives, and the manipulation of the degree of uncertainty with one considers decisions. One determining whether nor not to lie must have proof that the good achieved by their lie must be greater than the harm that may be done in response to the lie. As one may never know with certainty the future, it must be ruled out that one may lie as long as it is in their rational self-interests.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
ok, so i'm kinda busy...
This week is crazy, and I might not get any real posts created. I have three papers due next week, a debate for class, a book to read by two weeks from now, and a concerto competition on Friday. geez.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
notes on popularity
I have been thinking about popularity lately. Popularity in three fashions: people who know lots of other people, people that lots of other people know, and people who both know lots of others and are known by lots of others. It seems that the type of person that is popular is not as clear as I had thought it was.
In early years of school the term athletic is synonymous with popular. The athletic kids have the most visible positions in the school. This tends to create the ‘known by lots of others’ scenario, where a person is greeted by many others, but likely does not know and/or greet them.
It is in business where I find an example of ‘knows lots of others.’ A businessperson needs to have many contacts in order to assure that they can get what they want, when they need it. The one who knows lots of others will greet many people, but will not be greeted by many.
The final type of popular person is the one who both knows lots of others and is known by lots of others. This person is as likely to be greeted by another person as to greet the people. It is this type of person that is the inspiration for this post; I can’t seem to figure out who this person is.
I am not sure that popularity falls into the moral realm. Therefore, I am equally unsure that any sort of value can be appropriately applied to any of the three types I have mentioned. Nonetheless, I am inclined to say that the third version of popularity is somehow superior to the other two.
What do you think?
I’ll follow this one up when I have pondered it a bit more.
pax.
In early years of school the term athletic is synonymous with popular. The athletic kids have the most visible positions in the school. This tends to create the ‘known by lots of others’ scenario, where a person is greeted by many others, but likely does not know and/or greet them.
It is in business where I find an example of ‘knows lots of others.’ A businessperson needs to have many contacts in order to assure that they can get what they want, when they need it. The one who knows lots of others will greet many people, but will not be greeted by many.
The final type of popular person is the one who both knows lots of others and is known by lots of others. This person is as likely to be greeted by another person as to greet the people. It is this type of person that is the inspiration for this post; I can’t seem to figure out who this person is.
I am not sure that popularity falls into the moral realm. Therefore, I am equally unsure that any sort of value can be appropriately applied to any of the three types I have mentioned. Nonetheless, I am inclined to say that the third version of popularity is somehow superior to the other two.
What do you think?
I’ll follow this one up when I have pondered it a bit more.
pax.
Friday, September 17, 2004
I'll never throw a 2
Dr. Tim Lautzenheiser is a former band director that currently travels the country giving motivational lectures and workshops on education. Check out his bio at www.attitudeconcepts.com/timsbio.php . He is in Louisville this weekend for the Bands of America competition (marching bands), and gave a presentation at U of L this afternoon. Besides being simply amazing, the presentation was terrifically entertaining.
My favourite part of the presentation was a discussion of trust and interest. He presented a game that is basically a derivative of the philosopher’s “inmate dilemma.”
Based on ‘paper, rock, scissors,’ two players decide on the third ‘beat’ whether to throw a 1 or a 2. If A throws 1 and B throws 2, then A loses 3 points and B gains 5. If A throws 2 and B throws 1 the opposite occurs. If both A and B throw 2’s, then both players loose 8 points. If both A and B throw 1’s, then both players gain 1 point.
Since the net gain of the possibilities of throwing a 2 are –3, it never makes sense to throw it. However, this requires that the opponents trust that one is not attempting to deceive the other. The only way to win in this game is by accepting the smallest gain available.
Applications are obvious.
My favourite part of the presentation was a discussion of trust and interest. He presented a game that is basically a derivative of the philosopher’s “inmate dilemma.”
Based on ‘paper, rock, scissors,’ two players decide on the third ‘beat’ whether to throw a 1 or a 2. If A throws 1 and B throws 2, then A loses 3 points and B gains 5. If A throws 2 and B throws 1 the opposite occurs. If both A and B throw 2’s, then both players loose 8 points. If both A and B throw 1’s, then both players gain 1 point.
Since the net gain of the possibilities of throwing a 2 are –3, it never makes sense to throw it. However, this requires that the opponents trust that one is not attempting to deceive the other. The only way to win in this game is by accepting the smallest gain available.
Applications are obvious.
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