It Has Been Too Long

Greetings,

I have been crushed by work as of late, as you might has guessed by my (present/haunting) absence. I love it. School is wearing me down, but I have finally found something that I enjoy and am recognized for my skill. That area perhaps is critical theory and perhaps is philosophy. I am taking a seminar on Heidegger's Being and Time and virtually set up a tutorial with one professor. Another tutorial with another professor that centers more on Derrida and that strain of teaching, if we may call it that. All great thinkers. It has taken me years to get to this point, but when it comes you just have to take it by the horns.

That and life is going well as well. Outside of all the drama, I have found someone that will do crosswords with me, will cook with me, with do Ken-Kens with me (A fabulous new math/logic puzzle in the NY Times), will watch my silly movies and come with me when I go on whims. It is most pleasant. And rare. I wish I had more time for it all, but you make time. That is the thing I don't think people get though. You have to make time for people, for the important things in life. I can learn equations and formulas, I can memorise with the best of them, but it is those moments of "ah ha" when you figured out some thought problem, or perhaps even more germane but still puissant--noticing the wrinkles around a mouth that smiles too much and the light freckles on the top of the cheeks. Those gazes, what Derrida and Nancy would say was the stroking gaze, not the striking one. Those moments of infinite closeness and separation in just looking someon in the eyes. They mean something. I do not know what. I don't want to know what. That is the one precious thing that Heidegger never let on to his readers--authentic being in the world, the moment when we make ontological decisions instead of following das Man--but it is what those decisions are that he never mentions. If he were to say them then Herr Heidegger would become das Man, the antithesis of his wishes.

I love it.

I love have pages of readings, each title a seminal work...the Agamben, the Nancy, the Heidegger, the Derrida, the Deleuze, the Spivak, Foucault, Butler, Austen, Zizek, Robespierre, Rousseau, Kant, Hardt, Schmitt, Lacan, Blanchot, Benjamin, Weber...I love it.

I love the paradox of my being. Whitman said that he was full of multitudes, he was a large man. Ethics bowl presenter and a reader of Heidegger. I love those parallax.

To conclude. Everything is well.