Friday, December 31, 2010

in 2010, I

ran ≈ 485 miles

completed my first marathon in 3 hours 38 minutes and 4 seconds

drove up to LA with friends just for chicken and waffles at roscoe's

spent a week in san francisco, seeing the sites, visiting friends, easter service in a cathedral, wine country tourin', chats in the parlor

took a photoshop class

was a boyfriend for 5 months

ate apple pie in Julian

ate a fried klondike bar at the del mar fair

got broken up with

got drunk and wandered/danced the streets at 2 a.m., blasting music thru my qc2s, fell asleep in my car

hiked 25 miles round-trip and made it to the top of the 11,500 ft peak of mt san gorgonio

saw scott pilgrim twice at the theater

took a 5 unit german class at a local community college

enjoyed some life-defining albums

saw Robyn in concert

swam with a wild dolphin in Hawaii

finally volunteered at church

soaked in the hot springs of two countries

rode a horse to a waterfall in Costa Rica

rappelled down a 220 ft waterfall

went white water rafting


got a picture with a monkey

embraced a label

decided to work on living for myself

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

christianity and the alientation from self

[ehhh, I can't write that blog, but I'd love to read it]

Friday, December 10, 2010

the consolation of...long quotes

There is a pleasure in philosophy, and a lure even in the mirages of metaphysics, which every student feels until the coarse necessities of physical existence drag him from the heights of thought into the mart of economic strife and gain. Most of us have known some golden days in the June of life when philosophy was in fact what Plato calls it, "that dear delight"; when the love of a modestly elusive Truth seemed more glorious, incomparably, than the lust for the ways of the flesh and the dross of the world. And there is always some wistful remnant in us of that early wooing of wisdom. "Life has meaning," we feel with Browning—"to find its meaning is my meat and drink." So much of our lives is meaningless, a self-canceling vacillation and futility; we strive with the chaos about us and within; but we would believe all the while that there is something vital and significant in us, could we but decipher our own souls. We want to understand; "life means for us constantly to transform into light and flame all that we are or meet with"; we are like Mitya in The Brothers Karamazov—"one of those who don't want millions, but an answer to their questions"; we want to seize the value and perspective of passing things, and so to pull ourselves up out of the maelstrom of daily circumstance. We want to know that the little things are little, and the big things big, before it is too late; we want to see things now as they will seem forever—"in the light of eternity." We want to learn to laugh in the face of the inevitable, to smile even at the looming of death. We want to be whole, to coordinate our energies by criticizing and harmonizing our desires; for coordinated energy is the last word in ethics and politics, and perhaps in logic and metaphysics too. "To be a philosopher," said Thoreau, "is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live, according to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust." We may be sure that if we can but find wisdom, all things else will be added unto us. "Seek ye first the good things of the mind," Bacon admonishes us, "and the rest will either be supplied or its loss will not be felt." Truth will not make us rich, but it will make us free.

-Will Durant