New Year's Resolution

Working myself into shape was not my New Year's resolution this year. In fact, my resolution last year shifted mid-January from "go to the gym at least 4 times a week" into "never make a New Year's resolution ever again". This is for one simple reason: New Year kinda sucks for introverts, in a lot of ways. A pinnacle among them being the rush that occurs directly succeeding December 31st. If you haven't made a resolution for the year but plan to go to the gym during the month of January for any reason, just don't. Walk in circles around your living room if you have to, or go kayaking downhill in the snow, but avoid the gym for a quarter mile radius.

It's a cultural phenomenon that I like to narrate a la National Geographic. It's the prime season for the developing plumage of these lanky mammals, and they flock to the local calisthenics hole for a much needed "leg day". Ah, look, there's one female of the species now. She's roosted upon what looks to be an artifact of Medieval torture. If you listen closely, you can hear her dying inside...

But that usually gets me in trouble.

Okay, look, disregard that; the problem with these resolutions is that everyone tries to pick the same thing. My big issue with this whole New Year thing isn't in the essence of me celebrating with my cat and a party popper at 9pm ("It's 12 o'clock somewhere"), which, by the way, I actually didn't do this year so the joke's on you, Mom. No, this issue begins the following morning. And it has 99% to do with this glorious blessing that is introversion:

Gym resolutions would be so fun if I was the only one who made them! All of you, stop it. It's my thing now. Give up and go home.

Just once I'd like to ask someone what their goal for this year is to hear them say, "Oh, you know, a bowl of ice cream every other morning, the usual" or maybe "Gee, I hadn't really thought about it-- I think I might like to ride an ostrich this year." People could stand to be a whole lot more accepting of the things they genuinely enjoy, and that'd do it. Here's the thing: the shift to New Year isn't going to change you. You could make the choice to eat better, go to the gym, or get more sleep any other day. It's far better to start the year in a way you'll be glad to end it: Loving yourself.

If painting makes you happy, sign up for the class. Maybe you could challenge yourself to random acts of kindness. You could buy yourself some new mechanical pencils and fuzzy socks, or check Facebook less often, or go walk dogs at the local shelter-- while getting in shape may be a great objective, there are so many other experiences worth living. If your goal is to lose 15 pounds, add in a little bonus of "Visit that fresh market I love, once a week." If you love the concept of your goals but hate how you get to them, you'll run out of willpower along with your happiness. You have to love the journey or you'll turn back on the destination. (I know this because my dad always threatens to "turn this car around right now")

And what do I love to do? Well... read. So I custom-built a 52-week challenge, and it's just descriptive but also vague enough for you to do it with me, if you'd like! Then we can all talk about the books we read in one glorious online nerd haven. Basically, here are the specs: One book per week throughout the year. You can cram all you want, or you can read one each week, but you have to read all 52. In addition, while 13 are free-reads, a whopping 39 have prompts. You can take them in any order you like and push in your free book slots whenever you like. You can also, of course, read books outside of the challenge, or customize it for your own use. Or, you can apply multiple prompts to one book you read. (Though if you do that, you're kind of a party pooper, okay?) A lot of these prompts hail from this year's Popsugar reading challenge. I can't let myself completely decide the prompts, because the whole list would sound a bit like, "nonfiction about physics, nonfiction about birds, nonfiction about Vietnamese cooking..." But I digress. Here it is:

As I read along, I'll be updating my list of books read in the following. It'll offer recommended books for specific prompts, mini reviews, links to larger posts, and general asides:

• New York Times Bestseller: Life After Life (by Kate Atkinson). A while back I tried to read this book but only had the stamina to get halfway through-- it's not a good first book after a dry spell, I'll note that. It is, however, the most brilliant anti-war novel ever crafted. I hear y'all in the back screaming Slaughterhouse-Five, but I must politely disagree. I've read both, and here is the difference: Slaughterhouse-Five, while a masterpiece all on its own, merely convinces that war is brutal and irrational. Life After Life hits with force, spiraling through a tapestry of the destiny of one woman, Ursula, amor fati, into the pained realization that we cannot know every story. Friends become strangers. Family becomes the enemy. Time after time, new pathways are revealed, new insights, people who we think will live forever and then live short. Life After Life is unique because it looks to the sky. The whole world as a snake with a tail in its mouth. And it dies, comforted, in the hands of a stranger.
• Finish in a Day: The Crucible (by Arthur Miller). This is one of the three books I brought with me to this year's Winter Camp for my church-- and, due to a surprising amount of sociability, it was the only one I finished. To give warning, it is capable of messing you up psychologically and bringing you awash to your knees in emotion in a mere 143 pages. The very nature of humanity, in all its perilous vengeance, is examined under the light (or, shall we say, darkness) of the Salem witch trials. The deleted act is best read as an epilogue to a very cataclysmic preceding scene; and through it, in the entirety of these acts, you will begin to question what malignant nature resides inside of you, yourself, no matter how pious. The just are not safe, and the wicked are martyrs. Good show, Arthur Miller, good show. 10/10.
• Graphic Novel: Tina's Mouth: An Existential Comic Diary (by Keshni Kashyap). The following is addressed to those of you who think I can find no fault in literature (it is accurate, on most occasions): I had such high hopes for this one. In the very "prologue" of the diary, which is addressed to the existential philosopher Sarte, 'Tina' writes, "I'm not one of those girls who write in diaries about boys and popularity and that sort of thing, in case you were wondering". This happens to be excruciatingly ironic because it is the only thing this book deliberates on, besides some subtle nuances to do with caste systems and appropriation of religion; but its only worthwhile content consists of a few quotes from Camus and Sarte. Sadly, yet another work of fiction that portraits teenagers as hormonal drones incapable of grasping any measure of common sense, let alone meaningful philosophy. I could excuse this if it was well-written or slightly unpredictable whatsoever, like Why We Broke Up, but alas, this book has next to nothing to offer except for a certifiable reason to go out and prove it wrong. Yikes. I feel like I need to wash my mind out with another book.
• Book by a Comedian: Man Up!: Tales of my Delusional Self-Confidence (by Ross Mathews). To be honest, I'll be a bit biased about this one. That's because I am now, certifiably, one of Ross's best friends. In fact, the book's third sentence is a sharp, "So now that we're best friends (oh, by the way, we totally just became best friends)"-- And that's all you need to know in preview for what follows. If you're interested in a spunky, raunchy, cheeky take on everything from pajama pants to lap dogs to butternut squash, this one is for you. It's a great palate-cleanser from a long string of books, and there's never a dull moment (also, Ross is gayer than a rainbow lollipop in the hands of Neil Patrick Harris). Read it and gain a new best friend! It's witty and entertaining all the way through. And while you're at it, do yourself a favor and watch through all the Ross the Intern moments-- you won't be sorry. 
• Random From the Library: Finding Zero (by Amir D. Aczel). Aczel weaves, through poignant spirituality and captivating memoirs, a tapestry of numbers that span not only human experience and the meaning of its incorporeal void, but of an existence that transcends all that we are capable of perceiving. Not only does this striking account brilliantly explain Eastern philosophy and its relation to the origin of sets and infinite nothingness, it captures some of the most fundamental aspects of human psychology and its cognitive abstraction: the longing for beauty, the satisfaction of an endless journey, the quintessential soul of questions without answers, and of course, that pivotal hidden corner of the mind where the concept of Zero merged with the vastness of the Infinite to flourish and grow to fruition. 
• Translated: Why We Broke Up (by Daniel Handler, illustrated by Maira Kalman). This was once a Spanish series, but has since been compiled, translated, and turned into one of my favorite books. It was quite a shocking revelation to me that one of my favorite childhood authors was capable of stealing the limelight in my heart once again-- Daniel Handler, aka, Lemony Snicket. I'm thinking of making up a cheer about this. Something like "Lemony Snicket, he's the ticket" or "Go Handler, he's our man(dler)", but honestly, I'm begging you, just read this book. The illustrations are lovely and the man's a literary genius.
• Required for High School: Uncle Tom's Cabin (by Harriet Beecher Stowe)
• New York Times Bestseller: The Five People You Meet in Heaven (by Mitch Alborn)
• Set in Europe: A God in Ruins (by Kate Atkinson)
• The Mind-Body Problem (by Rebecca Goldstein)
• A Twist in the Tale (by Jeffrey Archer)
• What Alice Forgot (by Liane Moriarty)
• Blue Cover: The Soul of an Octopus (by Sy Montgomery)
• Recommended by a Family Member: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (by Douglas Adams)
• The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (by Douglas Adams)
• Frida's Bed (by Slavenka Drakulic)
• The Psychopath Test (by Jon Ronson) 
• Just Mercy (by Bryan Stevenson)
• Becoming a Movie this Year: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (by Ransom Riggs)
• First Book Seen at a Bookstore: Diary of an Oxygen Thief (Anonymous)
• A Field Guide to Awkward Silences (by Alexandra Petri)
• This Land is Their Land (by Barbara Ehrenreich)

Okay. This is my real resolution, and I implore you to consider it: Love yourself. While you fulfill your goals to get in better shape or advance in your career, be proud of the person you truly are. Take time to grow in your strengths and cherish what you enjoy, and spend time with those you love, because the year will go by fast-- and you won't want to waste a single moment by being anyone other than the amazing you. Trust me on this one. This year is full of possibilities set out just for you.

The Care and Keeping of Popular Culture

It's no secret that I practically stalk the mailbox like a mighty lioness lurking on the suburban savanna each mid-month until the fated issue of Popular Science arrives. After which, I seclude myself in my room for hours, because it seems that I invariably become frustrated that no one shares my ideals of proper magazine etiquette. It's really not their fault. I'm extremely and annoyingly picky.

My suggestion is this: if you're going to read any glossy-covered publication, pick something you genuinely enjoy so you won't be tempted to do something awful to it like marking up the articles to circle things for your wish list.

Or better yet, just make sure I'm not around to have a psychological breakdown over the state of your reading materials. (Actually, you can buy a BB-8. I think Cody deserves one for putting up with me all the time, though he protests that I'm not mean as I depict myself to be. Psshhh.)

There are many magazines that you'll want to avoid and others you'll more want to pursue. I've created this curative guide to some of my favorites: The Week, Sky & Telescope, Popular Mechanics, American Cinematographer, Car and Driver, The Atlantic, Bird Watching, SciFiNow, Book Page, etc. In the end, it's just important to pick based on articles rather than cover, and what you find to be interesting rather than what's on the popular rack. Popular Science is actually the only magazine I ever get through, on occasion at that, but it's nice to have a favorite that's your go-to in waiting rooms. Sometimes you don't have enough time to read a whole novel or non-fiction, and it's best then to just immerse yourself in an article or two for your free time. Whatever the case, it's great to stumble across gems such as "Inside the Mission to Pluto". 

That's the great thing about magazines: There's something for the interests of everyone. But there's something, a darker side, that I'd like to discuss. In the light of humor, of course, if I may. There are many publications out there that have extreme tendencies to inspire identity crises or influence a person against their true interests into something I like to call, "The Celebrity Black Hole", from which in time no thought escapes. It's not wrong to enjoy popular culture in music, TV shows, movies, literature, you name it-- Of course! It'd be hypocritical of me to say no when I was practically drooling over the trailer to the new Star Wars. However, I would much rather study what inspires and interests me than keep up with the Kardashians. This isn't because they're bad people, it's just because I'd rather know what's going on in Paris than, say, the lives of the Duggars.

With that in mind, here are some

New Taglines for Popular Magazines

Although it's definitely not my area of interest, I recognize that it can be enjoyable to cozy up to a gossip column every now and then. However, these types of magazines can be detrimental in a number of ways.

When I was in sixth grade, our drama group used the library as a green room during productions. Since we were anxiously awaiting our cues from the baby monitor positioned at the central table, we couldn't get too immersed in any particular book or conversation. It was for this reason that I picked up one of those gauzy teen gossip magazines sitting in the rack directly beside me.

For an eleven-year old girl with a bizarre mix of social anxiety and attention craving, this magazine couldn't have come at a better time. Or, if you're not in the marketing of such a company, you'd say it couldn't have come at a worse time. Within these articles you're slammed with a high-pressure string of contradictory advice and ideals. Some tell you that you have to be self-confident to be liked, others tell you you're nothing compared to the celebrities. Articles simultaneously convince you to enjoy gossip but never spread it, to be this cultural ideal of "sexy" that is impossible let alone disgusting to perpetuate onto preteens, to be pure but to know exactly how to give a killer make out session in the school locker-room. These magazines can only seem to agree on one thing: It all comes down to who others say you are. Apparently all that matters is if you buy the "in" clothes, date a popular guy, hang out with the cool kids, stay in the know; and no one seems to care about the real you.

Self-consciousness, sensitivity, and insecurity of identity were already prevalent in my sixth grade psyche, and these magazines were like a shot of steroids to those ugly manifests of my stumbling years between child and adult (which I'm still a part of, but thankfully the only issue now seems to be not finding any footie pajamas in my size). Tween magazines, on the whole, promote the idea that your body makes up who you are and "more importantly" how others perceive you. Sheesh. Isn't it great to tell little girls that right about the time they slam into an awkward growth spurt or start to develop pimples?  Additionally, masses of studies have shown that magazines, more than any other form of media, are directly related to the development of eating disorders.

I suppose that makes me a statistic, doesn't it? This is the part of the story where I confess that I struggled with anorexia and messed up my metabolism in a way that still impacts me today. I developed ulcers, too, because I ate so little that my stomach acid burnt through its lining. No, the influence of magazines definitely wasn't my whole reason. I was also seeking to stable my topsy-turvy life with the only thing I thought I could control: my body. Where did I get the tips that told me I could eat ice cubes to fool my body into curbing the pangs of hunger? The same media that told me I wasn't good enough until I was perfect on the outside. 

70 percent of normal weight girls in the US consider themselves to be overweight. 35 percent of American girls between the ages of 6 and 12 have been on at least one diet. 

Hollywood celebrities are presented infallibly as role models. Information on beauty maintenance is far more prevalent than that of health. There are titles of articles that couldn't not send up at least some minuscule red flag: "You Specifically, Yes You, The Girl Reading This Magazine. You Aren't Attractive." Such messages are plastered all over modern media, aimed directly at teenage girls (though teenage guys aren't exempt from the cultural scrutiny, either); but nowhere are they as prevalent as the magazines preying upon young children or teenagers with low self-esteem. If I have to read one more "21 Ways to Make His Thighs go up in Flames" targeted towards my age group, I'm going to flip a table.

Why? Because these magazines feed you information that guys only want perfect smoking hot virgin sacrifices (that sounds suspiciously like some cult, actually), but at the same time, they supply tips for kissing in hallways and having physical relationships that your parents don't find out about. I may be a prude, but hear me out. Even if you don't agree with abstinence, it's indisputable that these mixed messages and constant streams of such "sex tips" send one very strong message: Guys like girls who are sex objects. Picture yourself as fourteen again. Picture your parents picturing you as fourteen. Or whatever else works. And then picture yourself being perpetually bombarded with this message that you only exist to attract and pleasure the opposite gender. 

It's wrong. It's just plain horrifyingly wrong.

Let me send a message to the pretween and teenage girls out there: You don't exist to be arm candy. You are unique and beautiful, talented and inspired and don't you dare let anyone tell you that you are anything less than that. You have goals and purpose, a personality that's all your own, and meaning beyond what society confines you to. You're a princess. A FREAKING PRINCESS. Oh, and guys, don't think I'm letting you slink away. Culture also tells you some pretty fantastic lies. You don't have to be muscular or hyper-masculine. You can be afraid or sensitive, enjoy "feminine" things, need to lean on others-- it's not a girl thing, it's a human thing. Don't let anyone tell you that you don't deserve to be cherished for who you are, too. You're a gOSHDARN PRINCE. 

YOU'RE ALL ROYALTY. OR DRAGONS. BE A DRAGON.

This article is titled "The Care and Keeping of Popular Culture", but it should really be the care and keeping of you. It's so easy to get wrapped up in appearances when we become entrapped in the warped perspective of our society. It's far too great a burden to believe that you're not worth anything unless you look, talk, or act a certain way. When it comes to real people, it isn't a matter of getting their thighs burning (wouldn't that be horrifically uncomfortable??)  If you want to get someone's heart burning, just be yourself. The right person will be the one who appreciates you in the entirety of who you are. 

And who you are, well.... That's just absolutely incredible.

Crivens, More Rambling!

It was by the charity of the universe that my friend Anne introduced me to the author Terry Pratchett, through his book We Free Men. This guy is basically about as INFP as you can get, and it's amazing down to every last dripping morsel of sarcasm. The allegory is hidden well and some points and rather conspicuously at others, in the name of humor, but its rather poignant. I've gleaned quite a few quotes that hit me like a frying pan over the head. And of course, because I'm me, I went through the whole book Myers-Briggs typing all of the characters.

I've got four to present to you today, cognitive function theories and all: Tiffany, Granny Aching, the (general) Nac Mac Foogles, and the Queen of Dreams. But first, a little bit about my thoughts on the book as a whole.

My two main reasons for enjoying this book are as follows:

1. I have never found a character more relatable than Tiffany. Seriously, the whole book I was reading through thinking "I don't remember myself doing this, but hey, proof of samsara."
2. Frying pans were used as weapons, seven years before Tangled.

That should be more than enough basis for me to force you to read this book. If you're not running to the library right now (darn you), I'll talk for just a little bit about the metaphor of the book itself. The major theme of it all is that we, as humans, walk through our lives seeing only what we want to or think we should see; a comatose state in which we cannot truly comprehend the wondrous nature of experiences we might have if we only were to open our eyes and wake up for real. However, being mere mortals, we could not begin to comprehend or exist in such a state of consciousness. It's the paradox and malaise of humanity.

All this, from a book whose every other word is a curse in some pictsie language.

There are some doubtless profound quotes, though. They contemplate religion, alternate realities, susuristic silence, hyperawareness, and of course, hypnagogia. I won't say it's my favorite book, as I do tend to prefer texts that leave me questioning my existence in near psychological breakdown state, but as for things that may or may not leave you in existential crisis, it's pretty dang good. Thank you, Anne, I'd recommend it too.

Also, thanks to this book, I now have a halfway decent Scottish accent under my belt.

I went ahead and researched the painting it was loosely based on, The Fairy-Feller's Master-Stroke. Incidentally, the artist went insane and killed his father, whom he thought was the devil in disguise. His caretakers at the insane asylum encouraged him to keep painting, and thus, commissioned by one of the doctors, this was born. He also produced the Sketches to Illustrate the Passions, which are pretty cool. They're actually quite lovely, although some are a tad morbid. 

In my mini research project, I also discovered that Queen wrote a song about this, with the same title of The Fairy-Feller's Master-Stroke. It suddenly turns into Nevermore, and I think the lyricist was high as a kite. Anyways, here's a link to the song. Now, onto our main feature: Myers-Briggs typing!! :D

First up, Tiffany Aching. She's a pretty fun main character to tag along with, and though I initially saw her as INFP, I later questioned my prior judgement and came to the outcome of a solid INTP. Let me explain why, first with the original MBTI and followed with cognitive functions.

Tiffany is most definitely an introvert. She reveled in silence and thoroughly enjoyed her alone time, which was one main reason why that little jiggit was Granny's (unofficial) favorite.

Secondly, we know she's intuitive because of the many references to "First Sight and Second Thoughts", which are among other things a fancy way of stating that she doesn't rely on what's expected or normal. Half of the book takes place in her thoughts, and she's not one to rely on those of others.

In deciding T or F, it got a bit harder. I went with T, for the primary reason that while she's an emotional person, she's decidedly very calculated about it. She used her little brother as monster bait-- with definite Perceiver-style impulse-- and decided not to cry about her grandmother.

It was definitely a harrowing issue to come to the conclusion that Tiffany is not, in fact, an INFP. My tears stain the keyboard even as I type, ect. There could be a definite debate to this-- for one thing, I see a lot more Fi than Fe. It's entirely possible that she's a well-rounded INFP, and this is my fervent hope and prayer. I don't like to rely too much on cognitive function theory, since it usually muddles things, but it's useful for explaining a character's thought process.

Introverted Feeling (Fi): Tiffany relates the outside world back to her feelings, and uses her sense of morality to guide her actions. It's often controlled, as she decides through a set of inner values what is worth her emotions. She doesn't worry too much about what others think of her, but rather, what her actions will cause her to think of herself.  For example, saving her brother. She doesn't think, "I have to find him, or how will my family feel?!" but "I need to save him because he's my brother, and if I didn't love him, what kind of person am I?" In spite of this, I typed her as a Thinker and not a Feeler, mainly because of the scene in which she confronts the Queen. While the Queen is using classic Fe manipulation strategy, Tiffany logically insults her instead of playing on her emotions. However, she's able to read the Queen quite well based on war she knows about her, enough to know her crucial emotional weak points. That smells of a Fi vs Fe contest, and a pretty well-written one at that.

Extroverted Intuition (Ne): Tiffany is open-minded, abstract, idealistic, insightful, and flexible in thought. The majority of her emotional reasoning sources inside (Fi), but she bounces her ideas off of others in order to fully grasp them. She likes to be present where possibilities exist, readily grasps foreign concepts, and seeks out creative solutions-- such as marrying Rob Anybody once a bird grinds a mountain down to a grain of sand. By the hundreds of obscure connections she makes throughout the book, it's easy to type her as a solid user of Ne. 

Introverted Sensing (Si): While Tiffany often lives among her thoughts and is wrapped up in her own imagination, she's also quite the sensor. She notices when things are off in her environment-- the unreality of the Drome's creations, Jenny Greenteeth appearing subtly, the slight noises of the pictsies-- and reflects heavily on the past as a guide for current actions. She's quite sentimental over her memories and they comprise a good portion of the book. She's consistent, hard working, and uses her routines to find comfort in daily life (This is offset by her rampant Ne, which pushes her into exploring everything). 

Extroverted Thinking (Te): Logic is a driving weapon at Tiffany's disposal. Once she's reasoned through her emotions, ideas, and sense of morality, she steps right into doing whatever makes the most sense. This could be using her brother as monster bait or defying the Queen by coldly playing her deepest insecurities, but once she's decided what the right thing to do is, she'll go by whatever means are objectively necessary. She makes decisions quickly and decisively.

Granny Aching

What we know of Sarah Aching comes entirely from the dialogue of the Nac Mac Foogles and Tiffany's memory. This is ~~SPOILER~~ because she's already deceased, but nevertheless she remains crucial in the underlying plot, up to the climax, and is therefore deemed by me a major character. I'll try to keep this profile a lot shorter. Granny Aching is an ISTJ. She was undeniably an introvert, relied on a strong moral code of right and wrong, worked within the law, nurtured both her sheep and any person in need duly with a spirit of moral obligation, worked hard unceasingly, and did her best to fill the traditional role of a "grandmother". On top of this, she stubbornly refused to leave the Chalk and clung to her constant values.

Nac Mac Foogles

The  Nac Mac Foogles (pictsies) seemed to have one general, shared personality. There were, of course, deviants, but as a whole, they conformed to a broad cognitive structure. The Nac Mac Foogles are ESFPs. And they were so, so fun to type. We know, for starters, that they're extroverts-- you never see one alone, their idea of heaven is endless parties and beer (as well as rampaging), and they're quite loud and exuberant. As SPs, the Sensor-Percievers, they're full of hedonism and are lively, fast-paced, skilled in battle, and based on their interpretation of common sense. They also tend to cry "Waily waily" on everything, though they can be serious on some rare occasions, and have a strong compassion which drives them to be the Robin Hoods of the fae world. They're ready to rush into both danger and fun, have a strong instinct to protect and fight for others, lack long-range vision, and can never seem to take the logical path.

Queen of Dreams

Let me just say right off that I love this character. It's fantastic development, even though it seems superficial at the surface. Fi vs Fe clashes are some of my favorite moments in literature. This one comes across as Harry Potter meets Chronicles of Narnia, in the worst way, which is alright I guess, but not ideal. There's not a lot of of information to go off of, but I just had to type her. The Queen screams ENFJ to me. For one thing, she's definitely got extroverted feeling at a max, and it's been corrupted to villainry. Her back story involves being left by her King, following which, her happy summer kingdom descends into eternal winter. Writers just love characterizing xNFJs as the harbringers of winter-- Elsa, Ingrid, Queen of Dreams, etc. It's such a trope, but I love it. 

Anyways, when a Fe-Ni combo goes off the deep end, you have some of the most manipulative and fantastic, poignant, gray-area villains. By this I mean, it's oftentimes hard to not fall into sympathy for them. The Queen's warped NF typing is blatantly present from the moment we see her: One, kindap children because she just wants to care for them; Two, fall into the classic primary Feeling function of "your mistakes are not your fault, but that of your circumstances"; and Three, her response to losing who we can only assume was the love of her life.

She's an extrovert because she must always have company and doesn't withdraw into solitude (additionally, because of her primary Fe function), and the J/P difference comes from the cognitive function stack. Again, in order to have that extroverted feeling, she fits with the classic ENFJ villain. Other example of Fe is Hans, from Frozen, and another pseudo-villain of NFJ-ness is Elsa from the same movie. The ENFJ vs INFJ difference in supposed evil is obviously present.

An important point to remember: Functions display differently for every individual.

This concludes my massive text on Wee Free Men! I checked out the one copy, but it's soon to be at our local library :P If you'd like to follow up on more book recommendations, simply click on my tag #bookreviews. If you enjoyed this book, you'll probably like Simon Bloom: The Gravity Keeper by Michael Reisman.

It's humorous, action-packed, profoundly intuitive, and most certainly makes you go about the world looking for suspicious textbooks. A couple years back, this was the book that made me enjoy reading more than I could express with words. Simon Bloom was the novel that started it all, and I will forever be grateful.

If you'd like to purchase the book, it can be found on Amazon here.

You can thank me later ;)

Crivens, what a long post!

I conclude with one of my very favorite quotes:

"We sleepwalk through life, because how could we live if we were always this awake?"

(Okay okay I'm sorry, here's a link to the actual song.)

Of Speculation and Silence

"I seen it over and over-- a guy talkin' to another guy and it don't make no difference if he don't hear or understand. The thing is, they're talkin', or they're settin' and still not talkin'. It don't make no difference ... It's just the talking. It's just bein' with another guy. That's all."

Once you carve through John Steinbeck's blatant sexism, you may find in his words an illustrious meaning and allegorical symbols, perhaps a commentary on the essence of human existence. Despite the quite irksome flaw of inherent misogyny in all of his works-- if a female character is not the physical incarnate of evil or lust, then invariably she steps out of line at some point and is beaten back into her place with none of the other characters thinking ill of it-- ahem, despite this, Steinbeck is one of my favorite authors. If you've ever heard me speak of East of Eden, you know I have for it an unbridled enthusiasm and somewhat obsessive passion. It is not only the voice of his writing but the aquifer of poignant metaphor that flows through each and every one of his works.You won't find an author more dedicated to pronouncing the reality of the human condition (Except, side note, women actually do have souls. Just thought I'd mention.)

In the past two nights, I've been reading Of Mice and Men and The Pearl cover-to-cover in one sitting each. East of Eden is a walloping and formidable endeavor, possessing a great length of text- albeit undoubtedly worth it-- while these two books both have approximately 100 pages, give or take (in the editions I've been reading). I could write 10,000 words on only one facet of these books alone, but for the sake of your sanity, I shall not. I compile this post today to briefly delve into a shared concept that runs through the philosophy of Steinbeck and expound upon the consequences of its application.

The theme is: Silence.
For all the folks at home; what follows will contain some impressive spoilers.

As I was reading The Pearl, I realized in it a dual and contradictory philosophy to be present, contrasted in my mind by a significant ideology embedded in Of Mice and Men. In chapter four (OMAM), which, by the way, is actually closer to the end of the book than its beginning, we finally meet a character who shows that Steinbeck is not only extremely sexist, but racist! However. In works such as The Pearl, Steinbeck presents many well-rounded, heroic, insightful characters who are, in fact, people of color. His apparent racism in Of Mice and Men is to coerce the reader into considering what unjust treatment African-Americans have been forced to endure. If these are truly his motives, then I can forgive them. Anyways, on to this character.

Steinbeck has a habit of forcing incredibly detailed descriptions, in a single wall of impenetrable text, onto the reader out of nowhere. Just to provide a bit of background on these quotes, here's what we know about the speaker:

• Crooks:

• African-American man
• Stable buck
• Has to bunk in the harness room because he can't quarter with the whites
• Crippled back from being kicked by a horse
• Instinctively angry against white people, all of them, because of how he's been mistreated
• Reads books, unlike everyone else in the story
• Definitely a loner, but also lonely
• Scarred past
• Somewhat pragmatic and aloof

Two of his most profound quotes are at the very beginning of this post and directly below.
Context? He's rambling on and on, now that he finally has someone to listen to him. No matter that the other person doesn't comprehend and isn't listening anyways, because he probably couldn't care less.

"Books ain't no good. A guy needs somebody-- to be near him ...  A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody. Don't make no difference who the guy is, long as he's with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely and he gets sick."

Steinbeck, unfortunately, forms him as an "angry black man" stereotype, and that doesn't sit well with me. Nevertheless, Crooks serves as a metaphor for the desolation and depravity of loneliness, and the kind of desperate character it inspires. No matter what he does or how many books he reads, he can't seem to fill the gaping need for human acceptance and interaction, however superficial.

Well, I could contend with that. And thinking on that quote a couple nights ago, I began to mull over a concept (which I'll come to later).

Crooks makes some intense points, as the dialogue continues, about the need to reflect experiences-- with only one mind, I have one dimension of a viewpoint. With another mind, there is stretched from my experience another dimension, and the space in which I can process, interpret, and edify my understanding is exponentially increased. From a singular line there now comes a plane of thought.
This is the source of Crook's misery; that he cannot achieve the simplest, yet most complex, and most pleasurable of human experiences. It is intriguing, then, that he at first adamantly refuses to speak to anyone or let his space be violated-- perhaps it is because he anticipates that he himself will be made not to speak, just as in the scene where Curley's wife threatens to lynch him (She does three things in this book: attempts to seduce men, complains about her life, and threatens to execute someone because he told her t get out of his room.)

So it seems that John Steinbeck's philosophy is that there is a necessity to express to one another, any other, human being. This is understandable; we humans are social creatures, we thrive on connection. The error in this reasoning comes in that there is no true connection in simply speaking. It does, in fact, make a difference whether "he don't hear or understand". Communication, language itself, was invented in effort to make raw the soul. This is the true human need; to be bare and authentic, and loved in spite of or because of it.
Otherwise it is dull, shallow, and false.

Yet, in reading The Pearl, a contrasting philosophy emerges.Steinbeck, speaking of the close relationship between Kino and Juana, says this:

"She knew him and she knew she could help him best by being silent and being near ... She knew he would ask when he wanted it."

And, this:

"There is not need for speech if it is only a habit anyway." 

In Steinbeck's eyes, this must be the ideal relationship. They work together nigh-flawlessly, as one being, the only conflict coming when Kino's wife dares to defy him. Juana is obedient, quiet, supportive, and in Kino's own eyes, strong-- she never cries in pain, not in childbirth or even when Kino beats her half to death (In love, of course, because that's definitely what you do when you love someone.) This theme of beautiful, wordless communication is present throughout the entirety of the story, in which there is little dialogue whatsoever. So, if this is the "ideal relationship" to the author, what can we gather?

Abuse aside, which may be dismissed for the moment as a cultural thing, this couple harmonizes very well. Kino and Juana need no excess of words; knowing each other so openly, they must only exchange a touch or a glance to communicate with the same authentic vulnerability. When words are thought necessary, they are spoken with little inhibition. The rest is sung through actions, much like a delicate, interpretive dance comprised of gentle three-note songs and affectionate touches.

My compromise is this: Perhaps we speak too much or not enough, and either of these impedes the deepest desire of our soul to be felt and cherished as we truly are. When our words become necessary, we should let them come freely. But more meaningful than this, more intrinsic to connection, are the knowing exchanges and clement touches passed between two souls who are already exposed to true understanding of each other. The purpose is true, authentic connection, and verbal expression is but a sometimes necessary means.

Hey, Steinbeck fans!
Want an equally profound novel in which neither sexism nor racism prevail?
Look no further! I recommend Life After Life by Kate Atkinson, which you can purchase on Amazon here








When I first read Of Mice and Men, I was so rival to the philosophy of this superficial "connection" that I devised to test against it by taking a vow of silence, to any linguistic communication, for the duration of a week. Now I see that these two books harmonize with each other like the songs they are, ancient, of the family (openness) and the ocean (inner thought). Steinbeck's meaning is not evident in one work alone, and still, from any book we will derive our own meaning. Therefore let us traverse in intimate, infinite dimensions of reflection, gleaning from each other what we ourselves alone cannot.

People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening, people writing songs that voices never share, and no one dare disturb the Sound of Silence.

-William Shakespeare

On the Malaise of Monetary Gain

When I first began to read The Best Things in Life by Peter Kreeft, my parents could not have known that stuffing me full with Socratic dialogue was about the worst possible thing they could have allowed, for both themselves and anyone exposed to my shouting range. On the other hand, I can't and don't blame them for the intellectual chaos that ensured-- Nope, that was definitely all me.

The Best Things in Life is a piece of contemporary philosophical literature, written in the form of a script, that can be best described either by smashing together the concepts of "moral justification" and "conjecture of the truth of others to be fallible while determining the truth of oneself to be undoubtedly accurate" OR by a general outline of the topics discussed and conclusions reached. I find the latter to better depict the underlying message of the book.

1. An introduction to the the flaws in the educational and occupational systems, dispelling both hedonism and labor futile in meaning.
1. Introduction to Socratic philosophy
1. Assume no truth
2. Say what is
3. Ask the great question of "Why" -- obtaining all of the answers and none of the questions is a useless pursuit
4. There is no such thing as a last question. "The unexamined life is not worth living". When we sit in complacency, we forfeit our meaning. 
2. As a society, the vast majority go to college and study that duration of their lives away to get a degree, to get a good job, to earn respectable wages, to buy things and raise a family, to send children to college.
1. When a trajectory is circular without reason, it is devoid of meaning. Why waste our time on this useless pursuit? 
2. There is a general attitude of self-indulgence in our culture clashing violently with the concept of delayed gratification. People desire immediate leisure, but give up everything to misery in the present to obtain it in an uncertain future. 
1. The hope of pleasure is in and of itself no sufficient reason to deny gratification now
3. The most valuable lesson is that which inspires you to become your own teacher.
2. It is a better and more fulfilling practice to serve the true design and meaning in our lives than to comply with societal standards of what should and should not be done.
1. The world's most practical decision-maker is logic, though philosophy can often impede philosophizing. 
1. Questions are more important than their answers. "They are the road, and only those of us who use the road find their way home"
2. We choose everything as a means to happiness, the ultimate goal. Even enlightenment serves us to happiness. Our choices should depend on what best leads us to those ends, not just in the present, but in the future.
1. Philosophy is useful because it helps us to identify what is good and true. Without knowledge of these concepts, nothing can be discerned as true or untrue, good or bad (countless numbers of synonyms could have been supplemented, as these four words are at the cornerstones of our lexicographical language.)
3. Money is good for nothing unless it is assigned meaning. Take the dollar bill, for instance. Without the government to assert that it has economic value, it's just paper.
1. The value of money, then, is what we choose it to purchase; but none of these things-- houses, cars, yachts-- is an end in and of itself. This acquisitions do not guarantee us any amount of happiness.
4. Is there a common and universal end sought by everyone?
1. Happiness, pleasure, and joy
1. Preservation of life-- health, food, drink
2. Connection-- love, companionship, loss of loneliness
3. Self-actualization and meaning
5. Is the value of serving humanity in the pursuit of truth?
1. Our time doesn't often think of truth as a close means to the ends of happiness. We instead desire monetary gain or the acquisition of  power, but power is as futile a purpose as money.
2. Making the world a better place to live in should come second to the more intimate improving of the self, which directly concerns life, more so than the outside world. 
1. There are practical sciences and productive sciences. Practical improves practices, productive improves products. 
3. We should seek knowledge for its own sake. While we can improve our practice and the world around us, philosophy improves our self. Our true being.
1. No matter what our career or path in life, we are called first and foremost to be ourselves, as human beings, serving the pursuit of knowledge. 
1. Know thyself.

And these are just the first two sections of the book! In order to avoid strangling you, dear readers, with an overly gratuitous amount of points, I'll say this-- To learn more, check out this book at your local library.
When faced with this looming wall of text, it seems a daunting task to carve through and begin to delve into the real meaning-- the purpose and implementation of Socratic dialogue. This work of philosophy, and Socrates himself, are not purposed to teach us what to thing. Rather, how. That grand and bold teaching, the golden lesson, is this:

Ask an infinite number of questions.

Better yet, discard your concept of numbers and build it up again, for that is in itself an assumption. Socrates instructed us to think like children, brazenly open to the impossible, daring to explore every crevice of a question, pointing out flaws in theories as boldly as any objective statement. With this in mind, let's examine Peter Kreeft.

Though I much appreciate the deviation from the usual societal standard of learn to work, work to earn, die; I disagree with Kreeft on one solid point that he did not address: Sometimes there is value in serving humanity not only for the pursuit of truth, but to help others to obtain that same happiness, pleasure, and joy, whether by guiding them to the philosophy of pursuing truth or tending to the needs of connection and preservation of life. The same follows for his point against the practical and productive sciences, or the goal of serving humanity; I argue that self-actualization can be better served not by constant pursuit of introspection, but upon the reflection of those around us. As we serve others, place their needs before our own (by pure altruism, not by some concept of gain or duty), we gain more a wisdom of our psyche than we do by the refusal to sacrifice the self. The pursuit of knowledge, of self-actualization and the happiness it ensures, is still inherent in this philosophy. However, rather than gaining it by theory, it is gleaned through the shared experiences of others. Kreeft states that we are called first and foremost to be human beings. Perhaps a more crucial distinction of philosophy is that we are called to be human beings together.

The major flaw I find in the Socratic method is that it can be used, by the right, deliberate, and tangling misconstruction of words, to conclusively prove anything. The dialogue becomes circular, and in the right form, it invariably supports itself no matter the weight of evidence against its cause.

It is this very flaw that makes the Socratic method, warped, ideal for an angsty seventh grader. At the time, I gleaned the process but not the philosophy. I learned to question to an end, not as an end. It is more important, I realize now (after those past months of haggarding my parents with unwinnable, pre-scripted debates), to appreciate the wisdom of others while leaning not on our own assumed understanding. There is an endless wealth of questions to be explored within the universe and within ourselves-- perhaps they are the same.

Socrates asserted, Know Thyself, and only this can I know for certain-- For every question that I may answer, I will come upon a thousand more. And, for the sake of my soul, may I never cease to ask them.

Dust to Dust: Analysis of Out of the Silent Planet

CS Lewis shoves at us, time and time again, complex allegories that would rival even the most profound musings of Thales; even him, the supposed founder of Grecian sciences, might not level the heavens to the gentle reaches of the earth so, with such artistry of tact and grace. Rather than number the days in a year, he redefines time. Rather than predict the olive market, he would present an intricate understanding of mankind's interworking. And rather than measure an impossible shadow; he might capture light itself.

Out of the Silent Planet is no exception. It is all mirth but plenty matter, forcing readers to introspect until their minds collapse; to choke on harsh critiques of their own nature until they vomit, and then thrusts it down their throats again. CS Lewis may very well have succeeded in capturing the grim undertones of existence, in symbolically expounding his philosophy, but he has never succeeded in subtlety. Perhaps, though, if he had spoken less definitely, he might not have been heard. We have, then, his brazen tongue to thank for both the severity and the grace of his profoundly poetic dialogue and whimsical scopes.

The meat of this book, then, is to be fed upon ravenously. This is no five-star radish and sauce dish that presents itself as exquisite but is merely inedible; it is put before us as a supper of necessity. It was not meant to be sampled, but to be devoured in its entirety. Such passages as those he offers should not be picked at daintily. He cooks it as a dinner so hearty that it would make the thickest of men feel themselves empty after every meal following. But enough of this appraisal!


WARNING:: SPOILERS AHEAD!

What I find most intriguing about this book is, in fact, a sum of several points-- centering around Ransom's decision to leave Malacandra, and the tumultions of his mindset following the ascent from this foreign world. A brief assessment of CS Lewis's blatantly worn theologies will attest to his motives in writing most (if not all) of his novella-- therefore, it can very well be theorized that, in this system of Maledil over Oyarsa over eldil over hnau over beast; Maledil is an allegorical portrayal of God, and that this "bent" Oyarsa would be Satan in all his rich darkness. Eldils, the beings of light, would be heavenly attendants-- angels. And the ever questionable Thulcandra- Earth-- the Silent Planet-- may be bent down to the cracks in its soil, producing only withered virtues. The "Lord of this World" is a very charismatic one, persuasive in every tongue. He bends the soul but seldom shatters it beyond use or repair.

Oyarsa are set as the governs over the souls of a world, expressing their dominion only as justice would see fit, only as balance and the decrees of nature would dictate, only so far as it were rightly given them, chiefly out of respect for the sanctity of that which is not their own belonging. From this platform, CS Lewis launches us into the complex parable that is not laced with words faute de mieux, but weighed and weaved with throbbing force into a reader's conscious.

At the end there are gleaned some principle aspects of the hnau-- souls, one could call them. This word, hnau, is similar in structure to several other terms of the Hrossan language, comparing forms of landscapes; leading me to believe that it could quite literally derive from roots meaning "of the earth". In the Biblical book of Genesis, man is said to have risen from the dust of the Earth. Formed from the blood of our planet; "First were the darker, then the brighter. First were the worlds' blood, then the suns' blood…" Then comes the Oyarsa, plainly contrasting in its meaning: the intelligence, the spirit, of a heavenly sphere. Something quite transcending, then, of the earth itself. The soul of a planet. Etymology aside, one of the final, most poignant scenes of this book offers us a picture of the virtues cast aside in man's eternal quest to satisfy himself.

There may used to have been more consuming our minds than fear, death, and gluttonous desire; filling up instead with dulcet virtues such as pity, honesty, capacity for guilt, love of one's own kind, and so much beyond-- but under the weight of war, of slavery, of rape, of such things we dare not speak of out of shame for our own race; these virtues are crushed under man's heavy footstep. There are people starving who could very well be fed and given water if not for the steely walls of politics that triumph over human suffering. There are wars capable of giving way to peace and prosperity, if mercy chipped away the divides of pride and gave us back our humanity.

We are only contented by that which we do not have. A culture of hedonism leads us to believe that every pleasure is fruitful only in the now, and all the produce of the tree must be gobbled up before others have taken. There is no balance, no concern for the lives begotten after our own extents on this Earth; only a systematic moral decay declaring that all the world can go to fire and brimstone after we ourselves are gone from it. We cannot live for a future of pleasure, always crying for cravings of the next moment and never this one. We cannot truly revel in a memory if we beg it to return to the present. I urge you to believe, to realize that none of us now are truly content in our joy. So is the warped nature of man, always on climax, always aspiring to something greater, insomuch that we can never come to peace. All that man requires for happiness is to be "healthy in his body, easy in his circumstances, and well-instructed as to his mind". Instead we see the hungry and do not feed them, do not heal the sick, do not teach the unlearned, do not rescue the refugees, do not clothe the needy; are not moved within a speck of compassion to our fellow man. We must work ourselves into the ground until to dust we do return.

It is this knowledge, with these inescapably set virtues, that Ransom decides to risk the meeting of his mortality to return to the home he once though barren of anything to offer him. For, he says, "If I cannot live in Thulcandra, it is better for me not to live at all."

Oyarsa tells him he has chosen correctly.

There is the moment, then, when Malacandra ceases being an intimate thing of beauty and transforms, once again, into the reddened orb of Mars. With a broadened perspective, it is almost impossible to believe that such vitality, such wisdom could be so pursuant on a planet already named, already seen, already a component of such fanciful literature as no one could believe. We feel Ransom's paradigm shift and, almost, his inability to cope the global value, the shock of it-- Malacandra and Mars have become two separate entities in his mind, repelling each other like water to oil.

CS Lewis is, in fact, suggesting that Mars could have this life; however, it is not for scientific debate, but it is for this paradigm shift that he did not select some far away world on which to base this society. It is to make us consider the bearings of our universe, to dismay our philosophical presuppositions. The end is meant to merge fiction with fact; to convince the reader that anything he has gleaned as tokens of wisdom are just as real as if they had journeyed with Ransom himself. And in a way, through eloquent wit and prose of word, beauty printed on these pages..... they have.

Buy the book at its page on Amazon! 

What's coming up next?
So glad you asked! I've got my very own sketch of the inhabitants of the planet Xodus, and a bit of a narration on self help books. You'll also be seeing some crazy recipes that I'm inventing just for the heck of it; most of them terrifying to even the least squeamish of eaters.

xoxo
Julia

Jonathan, Fly Home!

Some Ramblings to do with Skepticism, Dogma, and Perfection in the Book by Richard Bach

Jonathan Livingston Seagull is arguably the most manifestly allegorical book ever published and certainly the most emblematic one involving seagulls. It focuses, first, on the importance of growth unabashed of dishonor; secondly, the impossible idea of achieving perfection through transcending our physical limitations of reality; in the third part, the worthlessness of knowledge when it is not transmitted, when those intellectuals who have acquired it refuse to convey their awareness to those considered more lowly; finally, the inability of the blindly obsequious to attain more than a mere feeling of safety in performed duty, and the need of skepticism to achieve true spiritual enlightenment.

Jonathan's teachings, attesting to the value of the unorthodox and immaterial, soon morph into something surprisingly cult-like; a medium that makes him more a god than a teacher and, therefore, his knowledge unable to be truly heard nor comprehended. He is lost to the worship of the masses and his perception is entirely forsaken.

As horrifyingly catastrophic as this decay is, it is the perfect allegory for the human condition in our constant vertigo of existence. We are torn between the faithful stability of dogma, tradition; and the brutally grueling, yet satisfying progress towards enlightenment. Reason must rise from the ashes of its own destruction; and as soon as the teachings of reason are revered, they are once for engulfed in flame. The perfect portrayal of reason, then, is a phoenix in seagull's clothing. And it must be painstakingly reborn in a cycle of generations. If we would only learn to live in curiosity, to journey through the ramblings of our own paths; instead of blindly submitting to a religious reverence of epiphanies past! We could learn a thousand lifetime's worth in one. Progress would not be so harrowingly stripped down, nor would it be limited to gradual, tipsy steps, nor would it be confined to perfection!

Now, wait, pause a second. Doesn't this book directly state, "Our purpose for living is to find that perfection and show it forth"? Doesn't it shout from its very pages, that perfection has no limits?! It does, and more. But through the paradoxical character Chiang are highlighted the imperfections of "perfection". The mere struggle towards perfection is arguably the most pretentious and futile goal of all. For one thing, the course towards perfection will be sabotaged by failures; riddled with these malfunctions all the way through. If we consider the arrival, not the journey, to perfection to be of the solitary importance; we have already failed. Any point in time or space could be considered an attempt at perfection. If we have failed even once, we are tarnished in our attempts. If we are tarnished, we are wholly unable to be perfect in and of ourselves. "Ex ficus ficum"-- figs from fig trees. We produce what we are. If we have at any point produced imperfection, we ourselves are imperfect.

One could argue, then, that perfection is subjective. However, that statement defeats the logic of its own intended purpose. If perfection is subjective, anyone may believe that I have already achieved it. Therefore, I have no need to strive towards its discovery.

Finally, let's take a look at the effects of this so-called perfection on Chiang himself, based on the description of his reaction to Jonathan's transcendence of the material-- "utterly unimpressed". He has lost his joy in perfection! What is, then, perfection's purpose? It does not satisfy curiosity, nor enable growth. It is the terminal velocity of existence, only surpassable once realized to be yet another limitation of the possible.

No, then, it is not perfection that we should seek out. It is the human desire, but not the human need. Our souls crave the possible-- which, more than perfection, is set with infinite limits. Whereas perfection is rooted in the arrival, possibility is joyous in the journey. This is why it enables us to achieve more; because we never succeed in defining the limits of it.

And so we conclude with a statement of our world today: We are "hemmed now with authority and ritual… strapped now to strangle freedom." I urge you, friends, teachers, fellow travelers on this cosmic journey; not to chain yourself to the worship of perfection, but to set yourself free to the torrents of possibility. And in doing so, you will achieve more than could ever be imagined.

Curious?

Order the book now at its page on AmazonSmile