Wit

Perhaps it is because I just finished (re)watching the movie Wit (2001) that I felt compelled to think this through.

Else, it could be my seeing a thread asking about one's favorite class, referring not to scholarly classes, though I mistakenly thought so. In any regard, the movie did remind me that my favorite classes were, since the eighth grade, largely English classes, and, as I grew older, became specifically poetry and literature classes.

Perhaps it is due in part to the prolixity of most poems, and some literature, that causes my enjoyment of the classes, but that can only account for, at most, less than half of my love, as though it were quantifiable. Indeed, the source for the majority of my utter revelry in such classes is the professors themselves. Every single one, whether considered 'good' or 'bad', causes in me gaiety as such I can hardly feel except under extremely specific, and unrelated to this subject, circumstances.

To elaborate, it is sitting in front of a professor, as an unseen observer, unseen insofar as I am not being personally seen by him, or her, seeing as I would be in a crowd of, say, 300 other students. But it is sitting in front of a professor and hearing him go on about a poem, or novel, and detail various ideas and theories to the extent that it is obvious, to me at least, of the love these professors have for their subject.

For example, in this movie, the professor Vivian (I am terrible with names and, as such, have already forgotten her last name...), as well as her professor from some time ago, have a scene where Vivian is lectured on a particular poem of John Donne. Now, an English teacher of mine from a few years back told me this story of John Donne and this poem, and I will retell it to you, but I may have it wrong, and for that, I apologize beforehand.

From what I recall, this particular poem of John Donne was published, I believe, sometime in the 17th century. In that poem, which is very beautiful in its own right, the last line goes:

And Death shall be no more, Death, thou shalt die.

And then, some time later, another version, written by Donne, naturally, of the same poem was found. This time ending with:

And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!

 Note the difference. Not only is there an exclaimation mark at the end, but the comma has turned into a semicolon, thus, as Vivian's professor points out in the movie, turning what was a breath into some melodramatic line fit for Shakespeare (paraphrasing her words). Seeing as the two were dated quite close to each other, it is up to scholarly debate as to which rendition is the 'correct' rendition, hence Vivian's professor's poison toward the copy using the latter punctuation style.

Now, for all practical purposes, who cares, right? Nonetheless, it is in my seeing these professors, English, literature, poetry professors, all go on about a piece that sets my soul aflame. It does not matter if I care for the subject, either of the class or of the piece they're lecturing on, just hearing them talk about it, hearing the love in their voice, hearing all the hours they spent outside of class preparing for the lecture, researching, writing notes, discussing with their colleagues...

You have, of course, knowledge of people saying how they heard a wonderful piece of music, or how they saw a particularly beautiful field of flowers, and so were imbued with sheer love of life, yes? It is very much the same thing, though the cause of the feeling is different.

It is a bit odd, honestly, because, in the lectures, you are expected, both as student and simple observer, to not just hear them speak, but to understand their speech, to take notes, to absorb the knowledge they're putting forth. But...but it is just so much more enjoyable to hear them. To hear the tonations of their voice, the different pitches as they read aloud a particular passage, or emphasize a point in their lecture. I gather more joy from hearing them speak, even if, after their lecture is over, I retain nothing, than I do paying apt attention to the meaning of their words and forcing myself to understand what Locke means about material intercourse, or whatever the phrase was. Not very good for a student, hm?

It does not work the same way when, say, an electrical engineer, or nuclear physicist, or medical doctor drones on about their jargon. Indeed, in such cases, I automatically trigger the nod-and-smile mechanism and have my mind wander off to recite Henry V in my head, or thinking about how pretty the clouds are.

As I said, though, not only does listening to professors lecture give me joy, but hearing them read aloud, or even just myself reading silently, various pieces of poetry, or of literature with nice prose, grants me the same, if not greater, joy.

I think I want a book of poetry for Christmas.

"The more I love humanity in general, the less I love man in particular."

I always fashioned myself something after Dostoevsky's quote, but I must admit that, the longer and more frequent I keep myself knowledgeable in current events, and, in particular, public opinions of said current events (namely through eavesdropping, comments-section reading, and random googling), the more I find myself turning into a misanthrope.

A current case that caught my eye, which I will hold my tongue a bit out of paranoia from my watching a movie about the stasi earlier this morning, about that one book on Amazon's best seller list, which they defended against accusations and such, then took down in spite of that defense.

But that's not my problem. Indeed, Amazon is a private business and was acting in pure Capitalist desires. I've no qualms against such an action, though I'd prefer a defense of free speech, I am not so Idealistic to expect a big business to prioritize freedom of expression over money.

No, my problem is that newer story of the author being arrested in Colorado, to be extradited to Florida, and thus prosecuted under Florida Criminal Law, not for writing the book, deplorable though the book may be, but for distributing it across state lines.

To put it simply, people everywhere, in every corner of the country, in every news site, conservative or liberal, want this man to die the most gruesome of deaths for writing his book. And, while I do not condone the actions described in the book, I do not want him to die the most gruesome of deaths for writing it. If he broke the law in writing it, then by all means convict him.

That's the thing, though. He has essentially become the target of society's disgust for writing this book, but is going to be convicted under a criminal offense of distributing "obscene" material across state lines. Now, anyone who has had even the slightest interest in the US' policies concerning material deemed, shall I say, less-than-savory in the eyes of the majority of society should know this law very well. It is, unless I've slipped up on the names, the same law Chris Handley was convicted under. Indeed, while the 'normals' wanted him thrown in prison for his cartoon porn, he was only convicted for transporting "obscene" material across state lines.

Now, this is my problem. This law is obviously nonsensical. Why, nearly every single American in this country is in violation of it, if pornography crossing state lines via copper cables counts, and yet the law is not enforced against us. No, this law's purpose is to single out a minority and torture them, socially and legally, taking away all they have by publicizing their 'dirty little secrets' and throwing them in jail for good measure. It is in this way that, upon release, they will be hard pressed to find a job, their families will avoid them, friends will have mysteriously vanished or changed their phone numbers, and they will have their world flipped upside down. This is, in effect, the same qualms I have against Megan's Law, but never you mind that.

People across the world have an opinion over the American Legal System, mostly, if not wholly, negative. The reason, I believe, the justice system in this country is horrid is due, not to corrupt politicians, nor private jails, but for another matter.

It is not illegal for this man to write or sell this book. At all. Everyone who wants the author to burn in hell, to get violently raped in prison, to get shot in the forehead, to be tortured, to be flayed upon a stake, or whatever other graphic descriptions I've read good Christians and kindly Atheist neighbors demand of him, it is for an action that is not a crime. And thank god for it.

But because it is not illegal for him to write this book, the only way they can satisfy their vindictive desires for justice is by catching him on a nonsensical law that, as I have said, surely all of Americans are in violation of, but only those who go against the 'normal moral mindset' are convicted under.

It is in the minds of every American that its purpose is to extract vengeance from criminals. A sort of reparation to the victims, whoever they may be. Indeed, even people who are not the victims of a crime have become so self-centered that they demand revenge extracted from criminals and/or supposed criminals for 'crimes' not inflicted upon them.

This is why the US legal system is horrid. Not corruption of officials, but because the people themselves are selfish and corrupt.  And thus my slow descent into misanthropy, hating both man in particular and man in general, at least as defined by man in the particular.

----------------------------

My apologies, it seems I was a bit misinformed. I could type up my misinformation, but a screenshot with relevant links would be easier. And it would serve as an image for this post.

Link #1 | Link #2 | Link #3

Well, that being the case, I take back my remarks on the Federal law concerning obscenity. Not that it matters, but it's good to be honest about these things. My opinions about American citizens and using the justice system as a means to their sense of satisfying their 'revenge' I still stand by, however.

Mountain Halls Duskcraft

I don't know what happened to the last save, but mysteriously vanished from my save folder, so I had to start over. Thus, Tathrigoth (Duskcraft), settled in the dear temperate area near a brook and volcano, came to be. The brook, named by explorers as The Subordinate Artifices, was flowing with fresh water, but appeared to be very far away from the volcano. Indeed, it is 8 z-levels and and the entire opposite side of the map. Between setting up my fortress on the flatlands near the brook, or the obsidian-rich mountains near the volcano, I, naturally, opted for the volcanic land. Perhaps it was due to what the very same explorers named the volcano that influenced my decision: The Fire of Authority.

This volcano spanned over 50 z-levels before disappearing far beyond my dwarven echolocation devices' reach. For 45 of those 50 levels, its shape remains exactly the same. From the peak of the mountain it resides beside to deep inside, its rocky container did not change a centimeter, and so it was difficult for me, at first, to figure out how to tap the delicious magma. If I channeled down, it would spill over, and if I just carelessly ordered a dwarf to puncture the wall, it would consume him, and I did not want to lose a dear miner.

I eventually found a way, doing something so simple, I could curse myself for having trouble with it before, but never you mind. In any case, my figuring out how to access the magma right next to me is what spurned the creation of my magma furnaces.

A bit disorderly, perhaps, but it effectively encompasses most of the area dug out above for furnaces and such. My farms were not only not planted yet, but the area I was going to plant them had not even been dug out! Yes, I had prioritized magma smelters and furnaces before food. The fortress nearly starving to death aside, I think it was a completely dwarvenly thing to do, and so possess neither regret nor guilt for the incident(s).

It was around this time that my stonecrafter was taken by a fey mood, and so designed and made Zimthimshur Leganokab, "Crestpartner the Mirthful Breaker" which, regrettably, is not as interesting as the name.

Nonetheless, it allowed my stonecrafter to pump out hundreds of masterwork obsidian crowns, scepters, and other trinkets, ensuring the fortress would never look at expensive items of traders with envious eyes. Indeed, thanks to Shem Asuvar, we could most likely buy the entire stock of caravans and have trinkets left over! Which is good, as the mountain we took home to, while possessing a volcano and river, lacked much wood. In fact, when we first came, it had but 15 trees. That we deforested immediately.

In any event, after my farms were dug out (but not planted), and two smelters were up and running, with one furnace making rudimentary breastplates for my two hammerdwarves, my armorer had an epiphany, and immediately pushed everyone away from the furnace, yelling profanities and demanding all animals to be put to death. As soon as I had approached him, however, he, quite unceremoniously, threw two copper bars at the furnace, then ran away. But a few minutes later, though, he was running back, giggling madly and clutching tanned leather to his chest. Seemingly absorbed in his own work, everyone, myself included, simply left him alone, pretending that our furnace had mysteriously disappeared, rather than bother the madman.

A few days later (three, in fact), a shout was heard throughout the entirety of our dear home, and Ber Urdimaned held his new work high above his head in utter ecstasy before gently setting it on the ground for others to haul to the appropriate spot, and walking away for a long-deserved drink.

I have to say, I was, and am, quite pleased with it. Nothing is so great as a legendary piece of armor a great warrior can wear, except a legendary piece of armor that details our history. Every foe who this future warrior kills will have his blood sprayed upon the leather of our beginning.

Well, seeing as my dear mountain was filled with obsidian, and seeing as I possessed a legendary armorer and stonecrafter, I decided to set up mandatory basic military training for all my dwarves. I have both an armorer and stonecrafter who were given the gift of the fey not long after my fortress' beginning, so, I reason, it is as if the gods were saying that I should do this.

I had my armorer pump out iron shields, and he did that extremely quickly, making 50 shields in but a few days. My stonecrafter.... He makes obsidian swords very well, and very fast, but, as I have said, my site lacks very many trees.  Thankfully, the humans and elves bring us wood in great supply, but I always run out, even though I do nothing with it but make beds and swords. Bins and barrels are made out of lead (Hoho, who needs safety precautions?), by the by, and yet my sword production is still behind my shield supply. Though all my dwarves, and newly immigrated dwarves, have a shield almost immediately upon drafted, many must wait for seasons before a sword can be fashioned. This puts a damper on my basic training plan, and it is terribly difficult, bureaucratically, to tell dwarves to not go inside the danger room unless in possession of both a sword and shield. Some dwarves even lie, saying they have a sword, when they clearly do not upon inspection. I'm really uncertain as to why, but perhaps they are desirous of extra training. Those who lie about a sword often end up with being quite an expert with a shield, while all their comrades are dismissed when they become merely competent or slightly skilled with their sword and board.

Human merchants have just arrived, so this seems a good place to stop. I am having our miners search out iron veins, and have just enlisted recent migrants to a newly created "Melter" class. As the name says, their job is to do absolutely nothing but smelt the 100 or so mined iron ores into bars, while my armorer and (sadly not legendary) weaponsmith equip our army.

Rune Factory 3

I did go through and marry Sakuya after all. She's a really sweet girl, kind, strict, ruthless when it comes to money, and willing to swindle her own husband out of 800g whenever the opportunity arises. She's a bit impatient, thus ruining her abilities to cook, and I wish her favorite food was something other than sashimi, so I'd get a wider variety of things to cook for her, but that's fine. And her mother is so amazing~ Pia is nothing but annoying, though.

One thing I was curious about: Even though I did marry Sakuya, it seems Karina is slowly falling in love with me. I just did a few quests for her because it was interesting, and now she's all cute and blushy when I talk to her. It's refreshing, but also makes me feel sad, since I have no interest in her whatsoever. Her mother, on the other hand...

In any event, I ended up feeling really bad for Daria since, throughout my gameplay, I practically ignored her. When I had to introduce Kuruna to the village, it took me hours (in-game) to figure out why it wouldn't let me go forward with the quest before I remembered Daria was even in the game. I'd never talk to her, put off by her...eccentricities, and come my wedding day to Sakuya, while doing that quest, I, by chance, saw her waiting in front of my house and talked to her. Something about how she told me it was a long time since we last talked made me remember that I hadn't spoken a word to her in three seasons, and never realized.

...
So, I was planning on starting a new game, this time going after Carmen, and, more importantly, learning magic. My first character used a spear, as spears are as obsessive and awe-inspiring to me as what swords were to Shirou. God, I loved how they implemented them in this game. Can't tell you why, exactly. Just the movements, the attacks, how fluidly dashes worked with thrusts, and how absolutely beautiful the charge attack was... So wonderful.

Anyway, magic for this new character. Maybe dual-swords, if magic is too difficult/useless. I am put off by dual-swords since they seem to have x2Offence and x0Defense (multipliers completely made up, by the by), and, despite using a spear, I still got hit quite a bit by ranged guys in my first play through. I'll see, though.

Oh, and Carmen. I'm not fond of the beat-up-the-guy trope, as I was introduced to her with, but her genki attitude is refreshing, especially after having spent tons of time doing quests for Raven. I always liked Raven in a sort of familial way. Kind of like a sister, you know? But after being around that much silence, it's a bit taxing, hypocritical though it is for me to say. Anyway, my first play through saw me tempted to go for Carmen, but her brother was such a great guy, it made me feel really bad to take the sister away from such an obvious siscon. But I shall cast that guilt aside this new play through!

I really want to keep playing my first game until I get a kid with Sakuya, but it's gotten very boring, and taxing even. I keep my farm in use, planting 9 of each seasonal vegetable and flower, just because it would feel bad to abandon the farm entirely, but it's just gotten to be less fun and more work to keep everything watered, to cut the plants when they fruit, and to replant the seeds to get up to higher levels... If nothing else, I'll keep at playing for a while, but let my farm grow decrepit. I still have emery flowers that have yet to bloom, though, so I'll tend to them. Why can't the real world have flowers of solid gold? They'd be so pretty. I wonder what it would take to make them, even if they were just golden carnations.

Also, Monica won my heart yet again by calling me "Dear" in casual conversation. I felt my heart skip a beat and a goofy grin crawl on my face when she did. I replayed that conversation at least 10 times before going on with my jobs for the day. Even now, I can hear her saying it in her sweet little voice. She's so damn adorable. Why does the world hate lolicons? To tease me with such a treasure, and forbid me from holding it is too cruel. Inhumanly cruel!

To be the dog

Thinking of it some more, I realized that I still felt some inner conflict over my own nature and desires. Not brought about by a conflict with the world views of another, but by my own perception of the future. I cannot, though I say this with some trepidation, see for myself a 'future'. That is, if I were asked to imagine myself in the future, say, 20 years from now, I could not. Now, not knowing what will happen in the future is quite natural, I'm sure, but I cannot just see myself in any situation, student, worker, married, single, dog, or human, at all.

Now, my issue comes from this in accordance with my desire, as I have stated before, to be a 'dog', as was termed previously. Now, to divulge into fantasy, imagining that I was able to live such a life with such a person to support me in just the way I enjoy the most, in just the way to satisfy any and every desire and Ideal I have attached to the fantasy. This fantasy being imagined, then, to its fullest Ideal, I have trouble imagining a future to it.

To put it more succinctly, supposing I had everything go my way to the utmost perfection, how could it last? How would it last? For example, the average life is to go to a university, get a girlfriend, get a degree, get a job, get a house, get a wife, get a kid or two, get old, get retired, get grandkids, get a funeral for your wife, die.

Following that pattern, the fantasy I desire lacks any sort of goal.

Yes, that's it: It lacks any goal. It is, so to speak, a slice of life novel, with no climax, no rising action. What I fear, then, is, if there is no climax, will there be, then, a falling action?

That 'fear' is likely just a result of lack of life experience, though, and isn't so pressing. I just need to study some more slice-of-life pieces of literature and other media to see how they work.

More than that, is it even possible for a human to live day after day with 'respect' without possessing a goal whatsoever? Not that I, or, I suspect, those others who read this, NEETs and leeches the majority of you may be; not that I care for the respect or even opinion of society as a whole, mind, but, in regards to the fantasy (which I have not, nor will, define exactly, as it possesses many faces), if the one person whose opinion I do care for drops, it will be of my own fault.

Perhaps I am struggling with the image of the working person that I have grown up with, having it, for lack of a better term, forced down my throat and into my heart by, literally, every human being I'd come into contact with as a child, so that, now, some part of my brain has flags and red lights shooting up at the very thought of wanting anything other than hard worker, earning your meal and so on. I lack passion for such a life, yet feel as though I'm doing something wrong, a feeling that reverberates in the deepest parts of my being, for wanting anything other than that life.

Truly, having written and reread this, I see that my issue is that I, quite simply, cannot fathom an individual who would support this 'dog'; someone who lives day to day with no outreaching goal, no desire to own a bakery, or to become a doctor, or to become a better painter, or to learn how to swim. Indeed, if I had to imagine the future, the very most I could do is say that a goal of the dog's would simply be to help its owner achieve their goals. A leech, in other words. It is, to my mind, completely unthinkable, in the literal sense of the word, that an individual exists who would willingly allow such a leech on their flesh. No goal, no desire, no future prospects other than to live one day after the other.

Indeed, the first thing that comes to my mind imagining such a leech is the unshaven, unkempt hobo, living each day searching for food and resting. If I were to imagine the life and future of a stray dog, so to speak, then perhaps I can get answers to my own feelings. What is it that hobos do when not foraging and dumpster diving? Beside standing at street corners begging for money. Oh, and beside socializing, assuming this would be an asocial hobo.Thinking about where he failed in his life? But that feeling of failure would likely be more rooted in that he has to search for food in the trash of other, more well-to-do of his kind than that he had no future. I imagine, at least. Or is it? Could it be that his feeling of failure results in that he has no power to escape his situation? Regardless of whether he would want to or not, is it that he has no choice in the matter that causes him his feelings of self-pity and self-revulsion?

I find such an answer doubtful. Though the caged bird may look at the sky, it still sings with the other birds regardless. And if the cage is spacious enough for the bird to enjoy stretching its wings while still remaining inside it, and if the cage is more cozy than outside of it, is it not rational to want to stay encaged? To say that lack of freedom causes the hobo's sadness and regret just feels as a wrong answer to me, especially since many of my day-dreams of being a dog involve the loss of privacy of my very thoughts, in one way or another.

Going on a completely different route, then, what if the regret the hobo feels is due to an issue of responsibility and reward? That is, the hobo, pitiful as his lot is in life, is responsible for a multitude of things that require an excessive amount of work to accomplish, things that are taken for granted by more well-to-do members of society. It'd be pointless to go into details, but what if this stray dog's regret comes from having to do this excessive work just to survive, while receiving for it no praise or reward? That is, a doctor has the responsibility of a hobo (survival, getting food, etc), as well as the responsibility of a tax payer, and the responsibility of a doctor, and the responsibility, perhaps, of a father, etc. And for fulfilling some of those responsibilities, the doctor is praised, paid, rewarded, or what have you. Of course, no one would praise a doctor for having made money enough to afford a meal at a fast food place, and though such a task may be daunting for a hobo, no one would praise him either. Nor should they, really, but that's neither here nor there.

In this regard, is, then, the regret toward life that the hobo feels a result of the realization that he struggles with what the rest of society does as easily as breathing? The prideful belief that, "I should be able to do this easily. I shouldn't be struggling with so simple a task as this"?

Ah, whatever. I've not read very varied philosophy doctrines or pieces of literature, but I'm beginning to harbor a hatred toward it. Every question spawns a new question, and, now, I've rambled so far away from my original intention, I've no idea where I am. If nothing else, this can be an archive, of sorts, that I can look back to in case my thinking every pulls me back to this path of reasoning. Now, though, food and Rune Factory 3 call me.