Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Dear Lowly Student,

What is your source? What is it? Is it the Fire Sermon? The Elephant Jataka or some other more obscure Buddhist sutra? How do I know that the information that you are presenting is true?

Well, Professor, I don't actually know what my source is. I have been studying far eastern asian religion, and it's philosophy for several years now. I have been reading and watching and listening to information on Buddhism and India for as long as I have been able to. In fact, I feel as though I have a fairly comprehensive understanding of the teachings and, honestly, the religious experience of Buddhism. You are not my only source.
So, when I write an essay I am not going to justify everything with source materials, I will simply summarize, to the best of my understanding, the best answer to the question.

BOT HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF YOU ARE RIGHT?

Perhaps you might draw on the fact that you are a PROFESSOR OF THIS STUFF. I think that you might have a good idea of whether or not I am right. So, instead of asking me what my sources are or picking at the sentence structure that I use, why not simply TELL ME THAT I'M WRONG? Thanks.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Write something, then

A combination of fine forces set out to work on me yesterday. The first was my Humanistic Psych class, a class which rarely has actual work, but often results in odd, insubstantial projects. For instance, this weekend I was supposed to have sex for world peace. I did not. This might be a shame, I'm not sure. But, the real point is that today he suggested that we "create something." I, after storming out of my room in a mostly unwarranted grumpy fit, decided to do that. I was going to create. But what?
I wrote a book.
Fine, I didn't write a book, but I did start one. It's no Ulysses, but I like it. I have no aspirations to greatness with this piece of work, it's a metamyth. It's a hero's journey, but I am thoroughly enjoying the process. Yesterday I wrote 2500 words. Guess how many words I wrote today? My great plans as I fell asleep about finding out how Elodie was going to find the temple in the woods and how the mother was going to remove herself from the narrative? Zero. I did not write a damn thing. And now, in bed, as I should be discovering exactly what Charles is going to say when he wakes up in the morning, I am writing a pointless, long over-due blog entry.
I guess it's better to write something.