Modern culture resists any connection between morality and happiness, and tends to equate happiness with bodily pleasures and psychological delights.To suggest that goodness, or virtuous living, leads to true happiness, is to suggest a return to the “dark ages” of medieval ignorance.While ancient man knew limits to the insatiable appetite of the senses, modern man, armed with science, technology, and material domination of the world, seems to have broken through such limits.It now seems possible to sate the senses 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, living in a virtual world of digital media and psychoactive chemicals.The senses, far feeling limited an unsatisfied, are now overwhelmed.Where is the value of virtuous living when goodness is relative, when justice is democratic, when emotions are synthesized, when problems are solved with a pill?The value comes from the fact that human nature really does have limits, that human happiness does reside in an objectively ordered good.The foundational (”cardinal”) virtues of prudence, justice, temperance, and fortitude provide the habitual disposition and unlimited capacity to know this true good of the human person and to passionately seek it.
Man is a creature of habit.What we do forms who we are.The cardinal virtues form us into excellent human beings.Just as Michael Jordan is an excellent basketball player (through practice) some men and women are excellent human beings through the practice of virtue, by which they become “virtuosos” of humanity.The four cardinal virtues perfect four different aspects of the human person:prudence perfects the judgments of evaluation (practical intellect), justice perfects the freedom of the will (rational appetite), temperance perfects the emotions that provoke (concupiscible passions), and fortitude perfects the emotions that sustain (irascible passions).Upon these virtues does the happiness of man ‘hinge’, “for a good life consists in good deeds” and “the entire structure of good works is built on four virtues” (Summa I-II, 57, 5 & I-II, 61, 1) Read the rest of this entry »
WEF7 made us pasta with a sauce that looked suspiciously meaty. Halfway through my meal I asked her if I was eating legitimate meat or some strange substitute. I was promptly informed that I was in fact eating corn, which is pronounced CoRn (I couldn’t tell the difference). I was rather surprised, but went back to my meal happily enough, every so often poking my meat-like sauce. After finishing my rather tasty meal (it would have been better with real meat, but it was surprisingly good considering its origins), I went off on a little rant about the miracles of a technology that could make corn taste and look more like meat than any kind of vegetable.
WEF7 was initially confused but soon pin-pointed my error. The meat-substitue wasn’t corn, but quorn. Quorn is a type of vegan/vegetarian meat-substitute created from a type of fungus. Yes, that’s right–a fungus. I still can’t decide if it’s more shocking for my ‘meat’ to be corn or to be a fungus, seeing as both are quite a few degrees away from animal flesh.
Perhaps more surprising than quorn’s origins is the fact that it took me so long to even question whether it was meat or not; if it wasn’t for the fact that WEF7 is a vegetarian and supposedly doesn’t eat meat, there’s a high probablity I never would have guessed it wasn’t meat! Either quorn is a truly awesome meat-substitute, my taste buds are fatally flawed, or hunger addled my brain. Either way, I can’t help but be reminded of the unfortunate horse eating experience, which is never particularly pleasant (Sorry WEF2!).
Dear Family, I am considering changing colleges. A St. John’s education always had questionable value, but its value has become more questionable as the years have progressed. I did not particularly care for freshmen year, I hated sophomore year, and I enjoyed junior year. Yet, ironically, I feel that freshmen and sophomore year were worthwhile, while the value of junior year is hard for me to quantify or even ‘feel’. More and more it seems as if I am participating in classes which are simply, forgive the expression, intellectual masturbation.
I want to learn to write well. I want to learn about foreign affairs and economics. I want to become fluent in french, spoken as well as written. None of these things are taught particularly well at SJC. So I’m investigating other options.
I don’t want to spend more than a year at another school. I just want the whole ’schooling’ process over and done with, hopefully with me having learnt something tangible and without me loaded down with another 20k in loans. This may not be possible, in which case I shall continue with the course I chose three years ago. Or, perhaps, tomorrow I shall feel differently about the entire matter. Or perhaps next week or next month. But today…today I feel done.
I am dying. Once again, alien factions have taken residence in my throat. They are green, but too small for me to make out their shape. There are many of them. They group together in a cohesive blob to escape attack and their ousting. I can’t tell whether their cohesion is due to alien mind togetherness or some alien cohesion chemicals, but these factions do have cohesion. That much I know for certain.
They have been accompanied by waxy ears, a miserable cold and (my favorite) major sinus headaches. But worry not, WEFers, I called the NHS and they think that I am at low risk for swine flu. Though they are the NHS, so I am uncertain as to how much faith I should place in their assessment.
This, of course, all started the day before my final exam.
So. Final count: One exam with crazy clock (which I now suspect was being controlled by aliens) and one exam under siege by alien forces. My luck astounds me.
I can’t help but wonder if this is actually the point of the British system. Perhaps they want to put students under the pressure they think they will feel in the real world. If so, I have failed miserably. When the clock went mad I entered a state of panic instead of just asking what time it was. Then my body failed me.
Regardless of my clear failure I don’t think that this type of pressure is at all prevalent in the real world. When do nine hours spaced out over three weeks ever determine the results of a year of hard work?
I am pretty disappointed in myself regardless. I didn’t fail, but it didn’t go particularly well either. I guess I just have to move on to the dissertation regardless and hope that my one good exam grade alongside a good thesis grade will dig me out of this academic hole. And that the aliens get bored and move elsewhere…
I arrived here in Scotland about three days ago. There were massive delays with Delta and at every stop along the way (I had two layovers) I was greeted by huge lines of disgruntled people who had missed their flights; thankfully, all my flights were prompt, except my last one into Edinburgh. I got in an hour late which threw off my train schedule, but WEF7, being the lovely individual she is, stayed at the train station until I showed up.
WEF7’s housemates are lovely and I’ve been quite comfortable. I think I’ve been spending a reasonable amount of money and not overdoing it, but only WEF2 can confirm that notion. I’m currently living on Pb&J, tuna, milk, and bagels + cream cheese. Oh, and these lovely little cookies. I’m going to buy cheese soon to add to my tuna toast creations, which I think will be a wise addition to my nutritional intake. All in all, I’m doing very well and am quite pleased with how this has all worked out.
OK wexforcers, WEX2 has vacation for the last three weeks of December, but cannot be in the US for tax reasons. We are trying to locate the same castle/keep that the Cullens (including Nathan and 3 month old Erin) stayed in 22 years ago. (eeks) We assume we will be there for Christmas week (your Dad and I are doing something alone for the first two weeks), when Jess and Morg can join us during their December breaks. When I fly back to Amman on the 29th, you all will fly to the US and then back to school when your breaks are over. I think everyone else is footloose and fancy free, so . . . (We know Nate, Angela and JP will need to be in St Louis and understand). So, it’s early, but if St Andrews and St Johns have calendars out for next year (they should) I need your break dates now to make this work. This will be very fun.
Birth Regulation vs. Birth Control:
The Subordination of Sex according to Natural Law
There are many sources for the horror of legalized abortion. The main culprits are often identified as politicians. Other culprits are cultural figures like Margaret Sanger along with their historical institutions (”Planned Parenthood”). Sometimes poverty is taken to task, or overpopulation, or many of the other social-ills. There remains, however, a deeper source and problem - the mass confusion regarding the meaning of human sexuality and the right regulation of human birth. According to the teaching of the Catholic Church as promulgated by Pope Paul VI’s encyclical Humanae Vitae, the regulation of birth must adhere to the natural meaning of the conjugal act as inseparably procreative and unitive, a meaning that excludes any means of sterilization or artificial insemination. While technology gives mankind the ability and power to control birth, it cannot reformulate the meaning of human sexuality. The modern world’s conception of autonomous freedom, and its understanding of the human body as “raw datum” (VS 48) or raw material for human activity, has led mankind to “extend the domination [of technology] to his own total being: to the body, to psychical life, to social life and even to the laws which regulate the transmission of life” (HV 2). This attempt to “control” birth rather than regulate it according to the mission of marriage and the law of nature, this attempt to “plan” birth without regard to the characteristics of conjugal love or of responsible parenthood, this very attempt to redefine the meaning of the conjugal act, is doomed to failure and unhappiness, “since man cannot find true happiness . . . other than in respect of the laws written by God in his very nature, laws which he must observe with intelligence and love” (HV 31).
So. Today I spent the day researching how to start a non-profit organziation. I now have my DC Articles of Incorporation all typed up and ready to be signed, notarized and sent to the DC Department of Consumer and Regulatory Affairs. The only problem being that in order to register I had to use a DC address and I am concerned that the paperwork will be sent there… oh well, I’m sure Daniel will be willing to send it along. I have decided to incorporate in DC so that I can start making charitable solicitations
The organization has a double purpose - documentaries that explore social issues to encourage social change and youth outreach. The first film/Outreach Program will be in Cameroon…
I also applied for a job at USAID… and learned that I can’t be an astronaut unless I go back to school for science… Oceanography anyone?… that degree would help me to become an aquanaut too… oh, tough choice… astronaut or aquanaut?…. hmmmm.
Was for my hardest class and was the one I had been mostly studying for this whole time - and I totally blew it. About half way through the exam the clock at the front of the room went nuts - spinning and spinning around. When I told the procter he didn’t do anything about it. (Now I realize that this was because at the end of its spinning it had gone back to the right time, but I had no way of knowing this.) So I figured it probably did something not too nutty - figured it had gone an hour back and rushed through my last essay question in order to make the time limit. Had been worried about the time through my first two exams, though not keeping too keen a watch on the clock as I was concentrating on what I was doing so I figured this was the right move. The time came and went. The exam continued. It was actually an hour left to go but I didn’t know this. I had done all three essays in two hours. Not good. I tried to make amends by adding stuff with stars and whatnot - in retrospect I should have just started the essay over but I still didn’t know what that damn clock had done so I was working under the assumption that the exam could end at any time. By the time they actually announced that there was half an hour left and I realized what had happened it was too late.
The essays were alright. I am in no danger of failing or anything like that. But the distinction that I really should have gotten in this class was ruined by a crazy clock. I am finding it really difficult to study for my other exams now with the knowledge that one I was totally prepared for could go so horribly wrong.
I retract every single positive statement I made about this experience. It hurts and I’m dying.
The stupid medication makes me tired and overly emotional, which results in me waking up, like now for example, at 4 in the morning in pain with a mouth full of spit-blood. Since the meds make me emotional this results in crying. Which hurts more. Which results in more crying.
It’s been three days…or is it two? And this is the first time I’ve cried. Isn’t it supposed to be getting better?
As per WEF4’s request, below was/is my death note.
To my family:
On the off chance that I die while having my wisdom teeth removed, an admittedly unlikely turn of events, I would like to say that I love you all, I have faith in God, and I am confident that I am in a pleasant place. So, don’t feel bad, don’t mourn for me (though, hopefully, you’ll miss me, so you’ll mourn at least a little bit for yourselves), and keep me in your prayers. I shall endeavor to make some sort of post-death contact with someone in the family, so look for me in your dreams (apparition style would be preferable, but who knows?).
An odd request is going to follow. I value my genes, as we all know, and would like if someone in the family would make sure my eggs were harvested. If one of my dear sisters, at some point, would be willing to carry my child, I would appreciate it greatly. I know right now isn’t the best time for either of them, so my request doesn’t really have a time limit. I’d just like a wee bit of me out there somewhere. A surrogate would also be fine to carry the wee one, but make sure the sperm donor is top-notch intelligent and handsome to boot. If no one wants to pick this duty up, I totally understand and there’s no hard feelings. But it would mean a lot to me.
Most likely no one will ever read this note, because I’m not going to die, but, just in case, here it is. I assume someone would take this awesome computer and rummage a bit around, so the title is sure to catch your attention (the title was ifIamDEAD.wps)—assuming I’m dead, of course.
I’m sure I miss you all; I definitely love you all.
I am injured. I just paid quite a bit of money, or, to be more precise, Mom and Dad just paid quite a bit of money, to have myself sliced, diced, bled, and stitched. I hate the taste of blood in my mouth. The pain I could deal with, it’s much less/easier than my monthly cramps, and I get pain medication of a higher order, but the blood in my mouth is just downright nasty. The swelling has almost completely gone down because I spent the first 10 hours in bed, asleep, with ice packs on each side of my mouth. My dreams were awesome, at least.
You know the worst part is that I’m a mouth fidgeter. I tend to bite my cheeks, rub my lips, run my tongue around my teeth (particularly on my blooming wisdom teeth), and now all of these activities, the majority of which I do unconsciously reveal pain and the acid, iron taste of blood.
I guess the doctor also said there was a slight infection (thank God we got it down now, I hadn’t even felt the infection yet!), so he gave me penicillan (sp?).
I was so worried last night over this procedure I wrote a note to the family in case I died…how thoughtful was that?
I am also currently completely hopped up on some sort of pain medication.
