(no subject)
I'm drinking some Mexican hot chocolate from Hillary. Only Hillary knows how long I've had this hot chocolate (I'm guessing a year by now). I have this tendency to hoard things, even though rationally I know there is no reason. The problem with hoarding is that you forget exactly what you are hoarding (I understand this is how squirrels turn acorns into oak trees). So a year later (give or take a bit) you suddenly realize that perhaps it is time to actually drink that hot chocolate.
This hot chocolate would taste fabulous with a spot of brandy or some rum, but I am trying to avoid alcohol because I've come to realize that it makes my allergies worse. I also realized, last night in fact, that the cologne that Scott's aunt got him makes my allergies a lot worse, very quickly. A nalgene of water (at least) a day seems to help (not, tragically, a nalgene's worth of tea). I wish nose replacement surgery was an option. I feel like everything is about allergies, especially now that it's spring. As far as I can tell, I have both seasonal *and* year round allergies. I seriously need stock in Keenex (or really Puffs--Puffs with lotion).
There is nothing like physical ailments to heighten your awareness of your own mortality. In highschool I never worried about mortality. My general philosophy was that every minute spent worrying about death was taken out of time that one should be living. That and my angst was easily spend elsewhere; between questions about god and the purpose of life, etc. I was pretty much maxed out on angst. Then I more of less fixed the religious issues (some might debate that, but they're busy enough praying for my soul, so no complaint there) and the "what is the purpose of life" turned into "what kind of job will actually make me sort of fulfilled" (which is the cause of a lot of anxiety, but not true angst as it were), so I was sort of "happy". Or rather there wasn't too much of the "big picture" type stuff worrying me. I even managed to ignore politics for a while (something that is getting harder and harder to do, especially with the shape of our economy). Then, out of no where, death hit me.
Now I'm not talking about the religious sense of death--the "where will I go, if anywhere, when I die". In many ways I would prefer that, because it's something that can be debated and reasoned about. Rather I began to grieve that there was death. I remember realizing it when I was living in Santa Fe. I would feel fear when either Scott or I flew alone (though not when we flew together). The thought that one of us could die and leave the other living alone would at times literally bring tears to my eyes. (I've always said that love softens the brain!!!!) Then it spread. Now I'm to the point where I quiet often find myself feeling a real sense of loss when I see a dead animal. I know rationally that death is necessary and natural--there could be no "circle of life" without it. Maybe new life balances the old on a cosmic level, but how can it ever replace it. For example, the other day I notice that a seagull had died on the beach where I work, and there, carrying paperwork back and forth, I was overwhelmed with loss. Now seagulls are the pigeons on the coast--there are tons of them and they're scavengers.
I suppose in some ways I am revisiting highschool. For me the problem of evil really boils down to the problem of pain. Her name escapes me (Simone someone--I read her in Oregon), but she said something about how each of us have some part that says "I hurt". I forget if that was in relation to what makes us all human, or why we have to have an ethical system, or something about justice.... What I found so poignant was that image that somewhere, in the core of our being, we are raw and vulnerable and hurt by... By life I guess. By other people. By death. Death itself may be a release from all of that, but what about those still living. And what about those last moments, when you know it is all over and there is no hope. Ok, so maybe there is a little of the "what happens next" too. But even if you could prove to me that everything was paradise on the other side, I'm not sure if I wouldn't still be upset.
I'm starting to worry that if I keep this up I'll end up a vegetarian or an ascetic. I have serious doubts that I have the temperament for either (or rather I doubt I have the temperament for the latter and Scott for the former). Maybe this is a sign that I need to go back and get a doctorate in philosophy after all...
This hot chocolate would taste fabulous with a spot of brandy or some rum, but I am trying to avoid alcohol because I've come to realize that it makes my allergies worse. I also realized, last night in fact, that the cologne that Scott's aunt got him makes my allergies a lot worse, very quickly. A nalgene of water (at least) a day seems to help (not, tragically, a nalgene's worth of tea). I wish nose replacement surgery was an option. I feel like everything is about allergies, especially now that it's spring. As far as I can tell, I have both seasonal *and* year round allergies. I seriously need stock in Keenex (or really Puffs--Puffs with lotion).
There is nothing like physical ailments to heighten your awareness of your own mortality. In highschool I never worried about mortality. My general philosophy was that every minute spent worrying about death was taken out of time that one should be living. That and my angst was easily spend elsewhere; between questions about god and the purpose of life, etc. I was pretty much maxed out on angst. Then I more of less fixed the religious issues (some might debate that, but they're busy enough praying for my soul, so no complaint there) and the "what is the purpose of life" turned into "what kind of job will actually make me sort of fulfilled" (which is the cause of a lot of anxiety, but not true angst as it were), so I was sort of "happy". Or rather there wasn't too much of the "big picture" type stuff worrying me. I even managed to ignore politics for a while (something that is getting harder and harder to do, especially with the shape of our economy). Then, out of no where, death hit me.
Now I'm not talking about the religious sense of death--the "where will I go, if anywhere, when I die". In many ways I would prefer that, because it's something that can be debated and reasoned about. Rather I began to grieve that there was death. I remember realizing it when I was living in Santa Fe. I would feel fear when either Scott or I flew alone (though not when we flew together). The thought that one of us could die and leave the other living alone would at times literally bring tears to my eyes. (I've always said that love softens the brain!!!!) Then it spread. Now I'm to the point where I quiet often find myself feeling a real sense of loss when I see a dead animal. I know rationally that death is necessary and natural--there could be no "circle of life" without it. Maybe new life balances the old on a cosmic level, but how can it ever replace it. For example, the other day I notice that a seagull had died on the beach where I work, and there, carrying paperwork back and forth, I was overwhelmed with loss. Now seagulls are the pigeons on the coast--there are tons of them and they're scavengers.
I suppose in some ways I am revisiting highschool. For me the problem of evil really boils down to the problem of pain. Her name escapes me (Simone someone--I read her in Oregon), but she said something about how each of us have some part that says "I hurt". I forget if that was in relation to what makes us all human, or why we have to have an ethical system, or something about justice.... What I found so poignant was that image that somewhere, in the core of our being, we are raw and vulnerable and hurt by... By life I guess. By other people. By death. Death itself may be a release from all of that, but what about those still living. And what about those last moments, when you know it is all over and there is no hope. Ok, so maybe there is a little of the "what happens next" too. But even if you could prove to me that everything was paradise on the other side, I'm not sure if I wouldn't still be upset.
I'm starting to worry that if I keep this up I'll end up a vegetarian or an ascetic. I have serious doubts that I have the temperament for either (or rather I doubt I have the temperament for the latter and Scott for the former). Maybe this is a sign that I need to go back and get a doctorate in philosophy after all...