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Showing posts from 2012

The Enlightened Mind

Do not ask me to believe in the rational human. No society took to the enlightenment with the same vigor as the Germans. Granted, the French butchered each other and regularly overthrew their republican governments in their illuminated fervor, but they do not compare to the Germans when it comes to how deeply the enlightenment took in the middle and professional classes. One might question what drove this exceedingly advanced attitude--and unusual stability--I do not know quite enough to say, but I intend to find out. This advanced society continued to flourish as the most progressive and cultivated society of the middle 19th and early 20th centuries. None equaled them in the field of academics, in the sciences or humanities. Yet all know that this great society went on to wage war against most of the world, and to kill off large segments of its own people, many of whom were the best and brightest of German progress. They held the single most evil belief which has ever infiltrate

Gifts.

I enjoy receiving gifts and, even more so, giving them. But it is with a certain antipathy that I consider the feeding frenzy of the Christmas shopping season. Every night the mall is packed, and on the weekends it is hard for someone like me to move without nearly mowing someone over. But it is not their poor sense in cramming themselves like sardines into the stores that irks me. I am frustrated, rather, by their frustration. Many of them are buying their presents without any pleasure; they expect little gratefulness. Christmas gifts, instead of being recognized as an act of generosity and sacrifice on behalf of the giver for the sake of their love of the recipient, are seen as due by the receiver; these gifts are what they are owed, by right of merely existing. So much the worse for the giver, should their offering be found wanting, because scorn certainly waits in the wings to belittle their efforts. Parents, friends, grandparents are held to ransom by expectations, and not by

And Isn't it an Unfornate Happenstance, Don't You Think?

A little bit too much of an unfortunate happenstance. I spent my entire day yesterday, and the majority of my night, working on a paper, which was due this evening. I failed to make satisfactory progress yesterday, so I wound up calling off of work this morning, so that I might actually turn something in before the deadline which was not the literary equivalent of a heaping mound of organic waste product. I spent my morning, and a decent part of my afternoon, hammering out something which I would not blush to own, only to discover upon arriving at class, that the professor had pushed the deadline to the end of the school year, to give us time to get him something polished. Gratefulness and rage mingled momentarily, giving way to maniacal laughter. I found the email telling us that he was giving the extension in my spam folder. How it got there, I know not. He was not offering us any used cars, or massages we wouldn't forget, so I could not fathom what gmail was thinking; I be

A Morning's Adventure.

I woke up at 6 to the deafening klaxon of my alarm. After I had chastised it in the most severe of terms for its sin, I proceeded to snooze it for the next 45 minutes or so. Astonished each time that I woke that the cheeky little thing had the impudence and courage to sound again in the face of my displeasure. I dragged myself out of bed...correction, I spent the next five minutes pulling off my covers bit by painful bit, allowing the cold of the room to shock some wakefulness into me, without sending  me into immediate cardiac arrest. The shower was another struggle. The hot water was irresistible, and I had to call up every last ounce of my self-control to turn it off. Amazingly, I escaped after fewer than ten minutes had passed. Dressing was an even more difficult challenge. I did not like clothes this morning, and the clothes I did like were not enough clothes, or else, did not match with my new jeans, which I felt it was my sacred duty to wear. It was the kind of morning which

Ramblings Inspired by Hunger

"History and German," I reply for the 47th time that day. And everyone knows the question which follows after. The question follows because my hearer misapprehends my purpose for studying German and History; not only that, they do not properly comprehend what I mean thereby; that is to say, those subjects signify to me. To some, the study of history comprises the study and rote memorization of lists of dead men and the equally dead events of their lives, the only use for which is to torture the already wandering minds of bored children. To others, thinking in a slightly more sophisticated way, it is the study of human development; perhaps the evolution of human civilization. Interesting, but not really of great utility. These sorts always respond with support, but perhaps with a shadow of amusement behind the eyes. To others still, it is necessary. We must study history, or else we will keep making the mistakes of the past! If only people studied history, they would

Asphyxiation

During this afternoon's edition of German Language Skills, the topic of loan words came up. Wolf Schneider, in Deutsch fuer Profis is against using transliterated words when simple--alltaeglich--German cognates exist. An example which Schneider used, and which Lee specifically highlighted, was the use of "asphyktisch" rather than atemlos. If one is trying to reach the widest audience, then one should use simpler language. Six hours later, a realization puzzled me. I was unable to provide an etymology for the word "Asphyxia." I sat there--ok, so maybe I was playing Meerca Chase--and ran through all the possible Latin and Greek words for breath or anything remotely related that I could call to mind. Still nothing fit. I had one of my research assistants look into it, and what he uncovered I found, if not ironic, at least amusing. If one means to say without breath, or atemlos, then asphyktisch, though it might often be used in such cases now, does not literall

Where The Wild Things Are

Maurice Sendak died today and I feel a strangely strong sense of bereavement. Where the Wild Things Are was  my favourite. I loved the book, I loved the Wild Things, and I loved Max. I identified myself with Max. I wanted to be Max. I wanted to have my solitary adventures into the night, through a day, in and out of weeks, and over a year. And I wanted to return back to where someone loved me best of all. Where the Wild Things Are became a part of who I am, and to know the man who wrote it is gone kind of hurts. So I send my love and kind regards to Maurice Sendak. He will never receive them, but I am grateful nonetheless.

Deutsch und Laufen.

I ran harder and farther than I have for quite some time yesterday. As a natural result thereof, I bear more resemblance to a seventy year-old man in my movements than I should like. Be that as it may, I will run tomorrow morning, and as often as I must to ensure that my suits fit forever. I am in desperate need of some totally fluffy light reading. I spend my days on campus with some Tome or other dealing with Pre-Colonial Africa or the Spanish American War, and while much of it is fascinating, there is only so much a body can take. Add to that that I was insane enough using pleasure reading time to read Dalrymple and Sowell, I need something that requires no mental taxation. I am trying to figure out how I am going to do this German presentation. I have ideas as far as exercises and games go, but I am not sure what kind of theme I could incorporate into my topic. I am expressing probability with the future perfect. So: Er wird sicherlich Pizza gegessen haben--He certainly ate Pizza.

ما شاء الله

What willed God? This exclamation comes in response to seeing great beauty, or to hearing good news. It is, of course, high praise. I like the phrase better, however, when it is taken out of the context of fate. While there is obviously an inherent recognition of divine goodness in the original, it is within the larger text of man as the plaything of God--all the moves have been made and the game is over; you are just figuring out how it went. The word الله is a difficult one. While it may be the transliterated Aramaic word for God, it has become deeply associated with Islam in particular. Arabic is a language where references to god are ubiquitous, as might be expected from a culture so thoroughly dominated by religion. The issue is that, when I ask what God has willed, I do so with the same words that others use to attribute a specific work to another entity, who most certainly is not God. There is room for confusion here, and I am not so green to suggest that the only import in my u

In Praise of Prejudice.

Reading the title alone is enough to raise an eyebrow as our well honed prejudices kick in. For those familiar with Dalrymple's previous work, the squirming is perhaps moderately ameliorated by the knowledge of the depth of his analysis. Yet we cringe, nonetheless. In Praise of Prejudice is a challenge to examine the way we think and how we form our pictures of the world. Dalrymple does a masterful job of bringing the reader to the necessary realization that it is impossible to go through life in the total absence of prejudgements. The very act of automatically tying a concept or idea to a word or set of words--a phenomenon we discussed in pedagogy--is an act of judgement, id est, personal allocation of value. Every time we use the same concept, we are merely instantly accessing a previously made judgement. To be free from all prejudice is to be a helpless infant. To believe that one is free from prejudice after one has developed object permanence is to be a buffoon, or at the very

The Hunger Games

It is time, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the most reliable and original movie reviewer in the world to make his voice heard! A brief glance at the title might have clued you in, but The Hunger Games (The movie which inspired the best selling books!) is the topic of today's ramblings. I begin by noting that I was going into this film with little to no optimism, and a biased predisposition to hate on anything that was not true to the books--which feelings were exacerbated by the Harry Potter movies, which were good , but seldom true to the book...but I digress. Hunger Games. It begins the movie in District 12, which was almost certainly filmed in West Virginia, or some equally dismal third world environment. From the very beginning the movie fosters an atmosphere of ever settling unease. The same pit of the stomach, something is wrong, kind of feeling that one gets from movies set in poverty stricken sub-Saharan Africa, or in screwed up apartheid settings. Very effective. The cinematog

Da Mojo

Dear internet diary...thing. This winter, to put it plainly, it felt like I just did not have my mojo. I was feeling lackluster, tired, and generally in a less than decent mood. My laughter was not coming so easily as I thought it should, and everything seemed like a bigger deal than it actually was. These days, thankfully, are passed. I have rediscovered a liking for people--at least for the time being--and my crinkly-eyed smile along with it. I am feeling this in my daily life, and in my work. I do not dread the work, and have a much better attitude attitude about it. And I also feel like talking again. This last statement might be somewhat odd, but I can say quite honestly, that I have not really wanted to talk for the last several months. I have been quieter than has ever been my wont, and it only now strikes me that such quietness--when I see it in others--strikes me with as standoffish. Whoops. Maybe it was not enough sunlight, or perhaps a little too much...something or other.

Dutch Empire and Trade

A rare sunny it is, and a good day to write while there is a spot in the sun to be found. Class today was focused on the Dutch Empire, and it was most satisfying. Dutch independence laid the groundwork for the first major market economy in early modern Europe. Little mystery, then, that the Dutch totally dominated trade over the next century, only to brought done by 80 years of sustained war, completed by a combined invasion of French forces, and heavy British naval assaults. Dutch Merchant shipping during this time period went from being almost non-existent, to being much greater than the cumulative shipping tonnage of the rest of Europe combined. The Bank of Amsterdam was the first fully functioning merchant bank in the world, and issued the first stable bills of exchange. My professor, in a move not foreseen, pointed out the power of corporate ventures to allow groups of middle class people to split the risk on an innovative venture, and how this led to the massive