(no subject)
Alcohol has become, for me, a thing that filters the way I view the world. I know about its neurotransmitter-inhibiting and neurotransmitter-amplifying effects, the technical aspects of how it works its strange magics-- I don't want to use it to dull the universe and its impact (it so seldom works for me in such a fashion!), I want to use it so that I see and interact with That Which Is on a different level.
The class on Self and Identity that I'm taking this semester hasn't really been that much of a challenge thus far-- the only trickiness is remembering who used which arguments, why, when, and how. It's moved to the part where the professor desires to engage the class in a discussion on "what is self-knowledge and how is it useful if at all", which seems to be much more engaging to those seven or eight years my junior. They raise points with vigor, with confusion, offended and not entirely sure they believe what they're hearing or want to accept the logic.
It makes me smile that wicked little smile I reserve for those who are psyching themselves up to take a sword against a tsunami.
Front seat, left-hand side. I 'know' the answers, or the response the instructor is seeking, about three quarters of the time-- and/or I have good guesses. I've learned to raise my hand about every other time. Sometimes I DO feel like the sage sitting on the mountaintop, head tilted to the side as I hear the query addressed to me.
Other times, the subtlest of panics sets in, and I can't help but start screaming in my head for all of the fifteen minutes it takes for me to cast the worry aside like so much lukewarm water-- one of the few analogies that settled into me from the New Testament.
Cast away, cast away~
The class on Self and Identity that I'm taking this semester hasn't really been that much of a challenge thus far-- the only trickiness is remembering who used which arguments, why, when, and how. It's moved to the part where the professor desires to engage the class in a discussion on "what is self-knowledge and how is it useful if at all", which seems to be much more engaging to those seven or eight years my junior. They raise points with vigor, with confusion, offended and not entirely sure they believe what they're hearing or want to accept the logic.
It makes me smile that wicked little smile I reserve for those who are psyching themselves up to take a sword against a tsunami.
Front seat, left-hand side. I 'know' the answers, or the response the instructor is seeking, about three quarters of the time-- and/or I have good guesses. I've learned to raise my hand about every other time. Sometimes I DO feel like the sage sitting on the mountaintop, head tilted to the side as I hear the query addressed to me.
Other times, the subtlest of panics sets in, and I can't help but start screaming in my head for all of the fifteen minutes it takes for me to cast the worry aside like so much lukewarm water-- one of the few analogies that settled into me from the New Testament.
Cast away, cast away~