It seems I can only keep up with the
books I'm reading on this blog. I do have more to say, about life,
the universe, and everything, but getting it out of my head and onto
the page doesn't seem to be happening. I think it's because I've
been procrastinating on revising my writing sample (for the 3rd
time). If I turn on the computer and open up a word processor I feel
obliged to write a couple of hundred words about the raven paradox
and I'm a little sick of the raven paradox right now.
About three weeks ago I realized that
in my rush to apply to grad school (an open secret) I had given
someone else control of my happiness. Not one particular person, but
just handed it over to professors, grades, acceptance into grad
programs and so on. I don't do well (and I expect most of us don't)
when I'm not in charge of my own happiness. I've been there before.
I've handed happiness over to school before, to co-workers, to
relationships. It doesn't work and it makes me rebel. I think it's
a part of the reason that I didn't do well in school before. One of
the things that allowed me to go back to school has been that I am
doing it for my own reasons and not to please anyone else (you're
welcome to be pleased about it, but I'm not doing it for you).
So upon realizing that I had turned
those reasons, responsibility for my happiness, over to someone else
I stopped and reevaluated. I had to approach this like an ultra. In
the middle of a race you will lose your motivation and not want to
continue. It happens to everyone. The trick, for me, is to look
around and remind myself that this is where I want to be, I am doing what I want to do, and even if it isn't fun, be in awe of it
and what I can do. So that's what I'm doing now. I'm in awe of
all the learning I've done and the papers I've written. I know I'm
not done and maybe I'll change my mind about grad school, but for
right now it's easy enough to act as though I'm going to do it (that
includes revising that paper). This is where I want to be and what I
want to do right now.
Maybe I lied about not being able to
get this stuff typed up. Once again I haven't read as much as I
thought I would. I think that's in part for the reasons listed
above. But looking back I guess I have read a fair bit, most of it
classic sci-fi, the comfort food of books.
Infinite Possibilities, Robert
Heinlein.
This is a collection of three of
Heinlein's “juvenile fiction” novellas. Tunnel in the Sky
was so-so. Although it had a few good psychological elements towards
the end it seemed to be a stream of consciousness Boy's Life meets
Lord of the Flies. Time For the Stars was much better as it
had a good hard sci-fi grounding and explored the twins paradox of
special relativity with literal twins. Not his best, but fun.
Citizen of the Galaxy was the last and strongest. Not super
deep, but it brings up some good points about how blind we are to
what goes on in other places and cultures and different sorts of
freedom. Besides, any novella that subverts the happily-ever-after
trope by means of stifling bureaucracy is okay by me.
Tao Te Ching, Lao-Tzu/Stephen
Mitchell.
A good reminder that I don't know as
much as I think I do.
The Nine Billion Names of God,
Arthur C. Clarke.
A collection of Clarke's favorites of
his own short stories. Most of these follow the sci-fi short story
formula pretty closely. Find a curious scientific fact/theory, run
with it for a while, twist ending. Good stuff anyway. Clarke's dark
but goofy sense of humor along with a frontier aesthetic and humanist
ethic underpin these stories. It makes me wonder what is really
important: here and now, something greater, or nothing at all.
Apology, Plato.
A good reminder that I don't know as
much as I think I do.
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