Gravitas (Sorry guys!)

I apologize for the last two posts. I've been feeling really lazy, and it was hot, and I've been feeling really lazy.
I just finished reading The Confessions of Zeno, which is indirectly the inspiration for this post. Without getting into the story, it's an examination of identity. What exactly makes you "you", whether it's possible to change who you are or if character is destiny, and (my favorite) the quite possible futility of self-analysis are all ideas that this book examines. Again, without going into too much detail, because of certain things that have happened to me recently these ideas are having a more than usual appeal.
I'm beginning to wonder if it's possible to change who you are. If it means recognizing patterns of behavior and changing them, I don't see how that's possible. Even if you can recognize certain patterns, what if certain habits, under certain circumstances, are good things and getting rid of them would leave you worse off? I happen to believe that our vices are usually misplaced virtues. If that's the case, I don't even see how change would be desirable. It's even possible that analyzing, identifying and then failing to do anything about it is part of your character. There wouldn't be anyway to change that. Besides, being able to change our own behavior would imply a level a self-awareness that most of us don't have. I'm not sure I do. It's hard enough to be honest with others, I'm not sure how honest we ever are with ourselves.
What I'm getting at is that I'm growing skeptical about whether or not any kind of transcendence is possible. It'd be like a prison trying to escape itself. At best, I'd be willing to grant that recognizing certain habits might allow you to mitigate them, or a least sometimes avoid situations where they'd cause you or someone else harm. But then again, it's possible that that kind of withdrawing is just another part of your personality that you're unaware of. Or maybe just lack of energy. How often do we stop doing something because we simply don't have the energy to do it anymore? If that's the case, I don't think we can really credit ourselves with "becoming better". Entropy is hardly a virtue, right?
Ask me about this again next week and I might say the exact opposite. It's just that I've been noticing things about myself, and I'm starting to wonder whether it wouldn't be a better idea to simple admit and accept certain things rather than wasting energy try to fight my way out of myself.
Slaps on the back of the head and exhortations to snap out of it are warmly encouraged.

Dear World,

Why are you so hot right now? It makes smoking unbearable. Although it does make for a good day in the park with friends. So, I guess, carry on.

Sincerely,

Sam

For you, a little quote

It is easy to laugh at anyone for being wise after the event. But it is almost as useless to be wise before it.

-Italo Svevo, The Confessions of Zeno

Yeah, that sounds about right.

What outside world?

What a nice feeling it is to be able to rest. I really didn't realize how much the Potarini job took out of me until I finally stopped working there. My long weekend was only remarkable by how much of it I spent asleep. On Sunday night I went to bed at one in the morning, woke up briefly at seven the next morning, and then proceeded to sleep until three that afternoon. I suppose I'm not used to working that hard, physically. Wait, for physically, instead read "at all".
Outside of sleeping, I've been doing a lot of reading. Jane Austen, in particular. I'm surprised to be liking it, and I'm also surprised by how funny it is. At twenty-five, I know this is trite. I have tried reading her before, but I've never been able to sustain an interest past the hundredth page. Stamina issues. Also, she seemed to be a bit cruel. One passage that made an impression on me was from Pride and Prejudice, while describing a mother who talking about her no-good son who died at sea, mentions that "she cried more tears over him now, than she had at his funeral", or words to that effect. I think it helps that I'm reading Northanger Abbey, which is supposed to be a type of parody of gothic romances, particularly The Mysteries of Udolpho, which I also haven't read. What I'm finding interesting about this book is how Austen uses language in order to manifest a person's moral character. Like how she does with the odious John Thorpe, whose vulgarity is made manifest to the reader by his constant splitting of infinitives, as well as his repeating vile saying: "He's as rich as a Jew".
Speaking of horribly feeble segues, I'm also reading James Wood. With all due respect to the Pope, this is the only guy I consider infallible. At least when he's writing about books. I've been going through The Irresponsible Self, and I've been really trying not to run out and buy everything he recommends. My respect for Wood's critical ability borders on the slavish, hell,is slavish. Only a fellow Woodian(?) like my friend Jammy could understand. She claims that he's ruined her for other men, a claim to which I can only say, "Likewise". Jammy, working together we can split him up, and, I dunno, take turns serving him? I hear the English can be surprisingly opened minded about those kinds of arrangements. Good for them.

Hired! pt.2 Where our hero learns the dignity of honest labour, makes a new friend, and maybe, learns a few lessons along the way

Well, I'm still working.
I wasn't thrilled about a job that was the equivalent of helping a friend move for eight hours. Reason being, I have a (yet undocumented) medical condition where heavy labor induces sweating, severe bouts of laziness and spontaneous instances of profanity. This time, my attacks have been relatively mild. I've been speculating as to why I seem to be getting over this allergy, and this is what I've come up with.
1.Person I'm working with: When I found out that another person was assigned to work with me, I was a little wary, seeing as how the scientific term for my social skills is NON-EXISTENT. Greg has turned out to be a friendly, interesting guy. Turns out he used to be a vice president for Indiepool, Canada's largest distributor of Canadian indie music. Why is he helping me lift boxes? He quit his job because he wasn't sure it was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, then went on a trip through Europe and Asia. We've killed a lot of time talking about our favorite music and playing the movie game. I'm glad I get along with him, seeing as how we have to spend eight hours a day together. There are members of my family that I can't imagine spending a quarter of that time with.
2.The people I'm working for: I'm not sure some of my friends will believe me, but the people at the architectural firm that I'm working at are neither embittered sons of bitches or monstrously huge assholes of biblical proportions . They're all pleasant and well mannered, even when me and Greg ask intensely stupid questions. I know. I'm not sure what they've slipped in my water either.
3.What I'm learning: Having spent three years in a bookstore, I've managed to avoid developing any marketable skills. You might think that being able to fake my way through a discussion of the metaphysical implications of the Kantian categorical imperative, or pretending that Jonathan Safran Foer is anything more than a tiresome po-mo hack are marketable skills. You'd be mistaken. In the past three days I've learned how to unbolt and disassemble shelves, re-bolt and reassemble shelves, what a nut and bolt are, how to use an electric screwdriver, and how to hammer in a nail without breaking my thumb. Functionally useless human being no more!
So there you are, my spirit remains unbroken. This isn't anything I'd choose to do, but I'm surprised to be disliking it as little as I do. I would even admit to actually enjoying it a little bit, but given my recent history I'm trying not to tempt fate.

Hired! pt.1

Well, I have news. It seems that after judicious review of my resume, the good people at PD Bureau have found me a job suited to my singular talents. Tomorrow, at nine A.M sharp, I get to report to Hariri Pontarini Architects and...lift....heavy...boxes. I think the most suitable category to file this job under is "It's Better than Nothing". To be fair, Rita (my job agent) realizes this.
"I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind," she says,
"but I figured we could give you something to get you started."
"Thanks! That's, um, great news" I reply, out of a pathological desire to appear polite. All the while I'm thinking: Lifting boxes? Fucking lifting boxes?
Luckily, I've been well-trained since childhood to simulate enthusiasm and cheerfulness about tasks that I have absolutely no interest in, and as usual, my training stands me in good stead. I ask if it's okay to wear T-shirts (it is), and whether or not sneakers are allowed (they should be okay). Splendid. I thank her and hang up.
I'm not annoyed at Rita, I know she's doing her job, and I'm sure she had to go through a lot of effort to find even this. I'm just dismayed by the poverty of what's on offer. I don't think I'm a special case, this seems to be happening to quite a few people. The only jobs that seem to be on offer are those that require a warm body and the ability not to (completely) drool on your shoes. I'm relieved to have some money coming in, but it's a waste of my time to be doing a job that a Jr.High diploma, let alone a university degree, makes me overqualified for. For one, I could be spending that time looking for a better job. It also makes me question the wisdom of staying in a city where after spending four-odd years in university, this is the best I can do.
The obvious retort to all of this is Well, what do you want to do? Honestly, I'm not sure anymore. I've tried a few things already, but nothing seems to have bore any fruit. Of course, I recognize that this is undeniably a first-world problem, and that I should be counting my blessing that I have the luxury of complaining about the indignity of taking jobs that I'm overqualified for on my blog. I don't dispute that. It's just that knowing it could be worse doesn't make me feel any better.

This important message brought to you by the letter "J"

He wondered whether he were stupid and unskilled, and he was finally obliged to confess to himself that he was impractical.

Henry James-The Bostonians

Why Mr. James, however did you know?

Thoughts of a dry brain

Just finished watching the final season of Strangers with Candy that my pal Jessie lent me. Good times, good times. It's a brilliant parody of afterschool specials and a reminder of what a terrifying Darwinian nightmare highschool was. Thanks, Jessie!
It's a beautiful, chilly Saturday afternoon that I'm spending inside. I've been overtaken by that strange kind of lethargy that afflicts you when you haven't really been doing anything for awhile. The type that lends itself to the horror and neglect of the obvious. When you know there's constructive things you could be doing, but choose to do something non-productive, or as I like to think of it "alternatively productive". After all, becoming culturally literate counts as being productive, right? How else will I be able to make obscure pop culture references if I don't watch obscure pop culture? Right?
Right guys?
In other nerd news, I've been reading this fascinating book Evil In Modern Thought: An Alternative History of Philosophy. The author Susan Neiman argues that the modern era in philosophy was primarily concerned with moral, as opposed to epistemological, questions. It grew out of an attempt to defend a theological world-view after the Lisbon earthquake(a horrible disaster in 18th century Portugal). Thousands of people were killed, and quite a few thinkers of the time wondered why God would let such a horrible calamity befall his people. Everyone from Voltaire to Leibniz to Rousseau chimed in with their own reasons.
Neiman defines the modern era in philosophy as one that attempted to discover whether there was any link between natural evil (Natural disasters and the like) and moral evil (The usual stuff we humans do), and whether or not the human mind was even capable of discovering such links. In short, it was about whether or not God's behavior could be rationally understood and defended. She argues a tendentious point that the Enlightenment, as opposed to being an exaltation of human reason, was a radical attempt to rigorously limit and define what the human mind was capable of knowing. So there was an epistemological element, but it was motivated by moral concerns. Morality as Neiman understands it, is our attempt to mediate the gap between what is and what we believe ought to be.
For her the history of philosophy is divided between two types of philosophers. There are those who attempt to make sense of the world's evils, and as such reduce them to the level of half-understood goods. These philosophers have optimistic views about what reason can know and understand. The others are those who maintain the traumatic nature of Evil. For the latter, Evil is an existential violation that frustrates our attempts to make sense of the world. Evil is senseless. That's what makes it so horrible. They can be fairly pessimistic about reason, and the human condition generally. I think you can tell where my sympathies lie in this argument. I geekily sped through this book in two days, so now I'm re-reading a bit slower so that I can get a better sense of what she's going on about.
I'll try to have something a little more upbeat for next time, but evil makes for good reading. Really!