The Village.

In the opening chapter of Walden, Henry David Thoreau writes, not without irony: "Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed to poor students" (Houghton Mifflin annotated edition, page 2). I claim not to be on a level with Thoreau, by any means. But please, just this once, regard this blog as a guide for students who are poor in time, money or energy. Save all three, and don't go see The Village. Yes, it was that bad.

Blue moon.

Yes, tonight, we will have a blue moon.

Sorry, Mr. Cooper.

It seems that the executive editor of CNet is displeased with the performance of the bloggers admitted with credentials to the Democratic National Convention. I can't speak from any kind of experience, seeing as how I didn't actually read many of the blogs covering the convention. I don't know if Mr. Cooper is correct or not. But even if the blogs were not on par with the big media, and even if the big media is as bloated and agenda-ist as some critics claim, more view points and more voices probably all add up to a good thing, if you ask me.

Bad news for short-sleepers.

While I sometimes have my own sleep problems, I usually devote at least seven -- sometimes eight -- hours a night to sleeping. While geared primarily toward women, this article offers valuable information on why we should get enough sleep. I often have a bit of trouble getting to sleep, and I can never go back to sleep if I wake up, nor can I take naps (a result of ADD, I suppose.) A bad night of sleep makes me lazier than usual, simply stupid and constantly hungry. The article explains why most of this is so. Geez, I thought I was the only one who gets insatiably hungry from not sleeping sometimes. Usually, though, I have enough sleep in my bank that I can stay up as late as I have to, even going so far as to skip a night's sleep or two. My favorite way to get from Boston to Baltimore for holidays was to take the train (I don't like to fly anymore). By far, my favorite train was the old diesel line that started at about 10 p.m. in Boston and arrived in Baltimore around dawn. Having enough sleep has always been the key to being able to burn through the night while travelling, camping, driving or -- in painfully rare cases -- working. Of course, I'm lucky that I've been a full-time university student since 1997 and that I have the luxury of a flexible schedule.

Response to Silver Spartan, Re: Meat.

This is in response to Silver Spartan's thoughtful comment: I think my not eating meat or wearing leather is not a rational/moral imperative in the usual [Kantian] sense.  Basing morals/ethics on rationality, as Kant does, degrades the ethical, to be sure.  My vegetarianism is, rather, a single instance of not doing something I think/feel I should not be doing. I quit smoking about two months before I went veggie, and it was for the same reason. I felt like I shouldn't be doing it. It sounds inane, most likely to say that, but I suppose it's in line with sound Transcendentalist ideals, i.e., there is no higher voice than one's conscience, the voice of the "divine" (whatever name one chooses to give to such an entity) inside of us. Nevertheless, as Max Scheler is careful to point out, any sort of moral/ethical "ought" is necessarily an individual ought, specific to each person. What I ought to do is follow my conscience, and what another ought to do is follow his or hers. Our consciences may not all say the same things.  Most people's consciences might agree that killing another person is wrong and that lying is something to avoid.  One important thing to remember is that other people have different consciences, and berating people who feel that there is nothing wrong with eating meat is always unfair.  To expect someone to listen to another's conscience over their own defeats what a conscience is for.  I can imagine that some people feel like they should not watch television or drive a car, and I know some people who feel like they should go to church everyday or work for charity.  I might not feel these particular things (I love driving, in fact), but some people do.  Perhaps we could all be a little more understanding of one another and patient with one another if we were to remember that there are a lot of things that we all feel differently about and that we cannot always change this.* I like to believe that I am not one of those judgmental vegetarians; I don't even like to talk about what I eat much sometimes.  Unfortunately, there are enough veggie jerks to give us all a bad name.  "Oh, how can you eat that?"  I hate being in a restaurant or a cafe' and hearing someone say loudly, "I don't eat meat."  Nothing makes vegetarianism seem so negative as such statements.  I'm not entirely innocent: I recall once asking someone if he killed his steak himself, but that was only after he did a rabbit impression of me for having a plate full of veggies.  We were both joking, though, of course.  In the end, it's not always hard for me to not eat meat.  It smells good, but I can resist it pretty easily, since it would feel so bad to eat it.  The same goes for smoking.  Sometimes, over a beer or coffee with my friends in Maryland, I would love to light one up.  But I would not really be able to enjoy it.  Now, the trick is to make doing or not doing the other things I feel I should or should not be doing as easy as not eating meat or smoking.  If getting my research done and publishing papers were as easy for me as eating extra veggies, I would be in very good shape indeed. [* The ever-wise William James even goes so far as to claim that one's choice of philosophy will always be determined by one's temperament, and Scheler says that we are fated to certain orders of preferring in what we love and hate.  Both, however, are careful to reserve the freedom for us to choose within these frameworks.]

Walk, sucka.

From a walk to the lake a few weeks ago. As if the Heartland were pedestrian-friendly.

Here fishy fishy fishy.

We went to Giant City State Park on a very cloudy Saturday this weekend. I did a sketch of a creek and read some of Thoreau's biography and took some photos of the translucent and phosphorescent fish darting around in the muddy creek (click the photo to see a larger image). It was astounding how much more quiet it is when one is actually in the middle of a state park in the National Forest, rather than merely right outside of it as I am when at home. The only thing I ever really hear here in addition to the natural sounds is the road noise of Illinois Route 51, which is just beyond the woods behind my apartment and which winds through the National Forest. On a windless, humid, cloudy, cool day in July, the stillness next to a creek settled amidst the stone bluffs of Giant City State Park can be quite eerie. And even more refreshing. It was so peaceful that I did not want to go for any kind of hike and get sweaty, lest my placidity be disturbed. The silence was eventually disturbed, not at all unpleasantly, by about fifty motocycles in a single file moto-march. I got out my camera and set the shutter speed to a very low setting and held still enough (I had tea, rather than coffee that afternoon) to snap this photo of some bikers at the end of the throng.

Later, TypePad.

I just cancelled my TypePad account.  I am waiting for my confirmation email, and then it's official.  I am no longer paying SixApart, Ltd. for a weblog.  Oh, well.  I'm still paying BlogHosts, but I like them.  I have a domain and a server and I might move this blog there one day, but that would just be for the fun of having my own domain.  I'll still use Blogger.  For now, though, I'm very happy here where everything is free and unlimited, on BlogSpot. I'm sure I'll mess around my template continually, as I am wont to do, however.  My buddy Dan says that the green hurts his eyes, and I think I might re-upload all of the photos via Hello (changing the code doesn't work because of the way it uploads) so that they show up larger before you click on them.  We'll see.  It's a rainy, crappy day, so I might have some time to mess around. I lead a very exciting life.

The Bourne Supremacy.

Go see it.  It's awesome.  You heard it here first.

After the rain.

The balcony (really a raised deck not accessible from the ground) after the rain. Boy, we had some moderately violent storms last night. The subwoofer on our stereo had to compete with the frequent thunder last night as we watched The Bourne Identity, in preparation for going to the first showing of The Bourne Supremacy in Carbondale. That's right. I am taking off a day of research to go see a movie. I got a good bit finished this week, and I'm allowed to have a break today. Besides, the Mazda needs its first oil change today. The rain thoroughly soaked the wood outside. Even though it's already humid as hell, the wood is cool and smooth under my bare feet, almost polished from the pressure of heavy rain . Too bad the sun is making its way over the trees and will dry it out shortly. Oh, well. If the wood always felt that way, I wouldn't really notice, care or appreciate it, would it?