We say it all the time do we not? We are so care-free about our words and phrases that we fail at times to stop, weigh the situation, measure our response, and then acknowledge the truth--there is a distinction between a friendship and an acquaintance.
What exactly is a friend? For that matter what is different in that terminology that is distinguishable from an acquaintance? To address these inquiries one may suggest that only time, chronos or tempus will tell them apart.
This is not the case. One can be an acquaintance for a long period of time and never enter within the very interstitial walls of friendship.
Friendship is not to be decided by time alone, but it is a reaffirming, quantifiable commodity that informs its tensile strength.
The acquaintance is always ever on the outskirts of friendship; i.e. its only position is toward friendship in the measure of forward progress. In regress, the acquaintance can become non-existent and warrant a different label altogether.
Friendship can also regress, but not back from whence it came; i.e. friendship cannot return to a position of acquaintance. Why is this exactly? If taken seriously--a friendship lost, destroyed, and otherwise irreparable makes its repair, its mending, its cohesion rather difficult to undertake.
I will add this caveat, however, that a true friendship will go through the "ups" and the "downs" and the "side-ways," but in the end remain as it was, albeit with some apprehension[s], sound, solid and conretized in something greater.
This is why a re-evaluation of ones society is the best "cleaning of house" I know. Evaluate those around you--and figure who is a friend and who is an acquaintance.
Remember--this is not a negative versus a positive, but a reality check. Who are you considering friends and who are, under serious consideration, acquaintances? You decide. You have heard it said--Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but I tell you--Know your friends, know your enemies and keep a very close eye on your acquaintences who are still on the fence.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Of or Concerning Invention and Discovery--Is there a difference?
One of the more celebrated points of discussion that I have come across in the last 4 years is the necessary distinction between invention and discovery.
What exactly are the distinctions? That is--how would we define such terms, and then appropriate them to a respective community in context? With any new examination of ideas examples must follow that support a concretized response.
When this response receives criticism, acceptance and more criticism, and is further accepted by a group or mass--it becomes an established position for further inquiry, for further examination and yes--for further discourse.
"Invention" is a term taken from the discipline of rhetorical studies. The term "discovery" is taken from the early philosophy of Anaximander and Pythagoras--if not earlier. The terms are not synonymous.
At the root level of such an exercise that otherwise may be viewed as a splitting of semantic hairs--the essence of creativity must be considered. That is, what can be created and what ex nihilo, or out of nothing can come into view.
Let us take for example the light bulb--that concentrated hardware that allows for our controlled illumination. Edison is credited with its "invention," or should it have been his "discovery" of the proper filament (tungsten) after over 400 failed, other metal wires, which thus led to the proper connection.
At Purdue University, and even at my alma mater Michigan State University--I recalled that both Institutions held spaces of investigation called discovery zones; the former is known as "Discovery Park"; the latter, is known for housing the largest particle accelerator (a cyclotron) in the country as it "discovers" new elements.
The point here is if there is nothing "new" under the sun, but it is unknown to us--then, when that which was not, becomes that which is--are we not on the brink of inventing a name for our discovery?
Yeah--I wonder how much of our everyday is "new," and moreover--how much of our "new" is simply an emergence of our unclouding into a point of illumination.
What exactly are the distinctions? That is--how would we define such terms, and then appropriate them to a respective community in context? With any new examination of ideas examples must follow that support a concretized response.
When this response receives criticism, acceptance and more criticism, and is further accepted by a group or mass--it becomes an established position for further inquiry, for further examination and yes--for further discourse.
"Invention" is a term taken from the discipline of rhetorical studies. The term "discovery" is taken from the early philosophy of Anaximander and Pythagoras--if not earlier. The terms are not synonymous.
At the root level of such an exercise that otherwise may be viewed as a splitting of semantic hairs--the essence of creativity must be considered. That is, what can be created and what ex nihilo, or out of nothing can come into view.
Let us take for example the light bulb--that concentrated hardware that allows for our controlled illumination. Edison is credited with its "invention," or should it have been his "discovery" of the proper filament (tungsten) after over 400 failed, other metal wires, which thus led to the proper connection.
At Purdue University, and even at my alma mater Michigan State University--I recalled that both Institutions held spaces of investigation called discovery zones; the former is known as "Discovery Park"; the latter, is known for housing the largest particle accelerator (a cyclotron) in the country as it "discovers" new elements.
The point here is if there is nothing "new" under the sun, but it is unknown to us--then, when that which was not, becomes that which is--are we not on the brink of inventing a name for our discovery?
Yeah--I wonder how much of our everyday is "new," and moreover--how much of our "new" is simply an emergence of our unclouding into a point of illumination.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Ah...but in my youth I would have...
Today at field__________ I found myself playing an "ageless" and competitive sport--football. I ran in for about 3 touchdowns, pulled my left hamstring, sprained both wrists, re-aggravated my bone spur, and tweaked my right Gastrocnemius muscle. You know--the calf muscle.
Still, the weather was perfect. At slightly windy conditions and a temperature of 42 degrees what could be better. Further, when my hoodie became a first down marker I knew right then and there it would be...brilliant.
The sad truth however, is that I am old, and though I played like I still had game (which of course I still do), I need the sportscreme and the pain pills afterward. I literally hobbled over to the computer to blog this entry and sit in pain even as this sentence terminates with a period.
One thing remains the same though--my competitive spirit! I still have that 18 year old killer instinct that rages to be seen, but with the afore stated after effects. In a sense then I was born to deteriorate, and ultimately die. As I or you get older we are reminded of this finiteness in a myriad of ways.
Since I have become a better candidate for the AARP I realize that I now groan for the simplest tasks. If I bend down to pick up a book from the bottom shelf I may tweak my lower back and be out of commission for a few minutes. If I walk up the stairwell to my arpartment onto the third floor--I am usually huffing and puffing by the time I hit that final stair.
Now before we become too pessimistic in our blog, just remember that you were born to die, but until then delay, delay, delay. In the process you may pull, sprain, tweak and God knows what else!
BP
Still, the weather was perfect. At slightly windy conditions and a temperature of 42 degrees what could be better. Further, when my hoodie became a first down marker I knew right then and there it would be...brilliant.
The sad truth however, is that I am old, and though I played like I still had game (which of course I still do), I need the sportscreme and the pain pills afterward. I literally hobbled over to the computer to blog this entry and sit in pain even as this sentence terminates with a period.
One thing remains the same though--my competitive spirit! I still have that 18 year old killer instinct that rages to be seen, but with the afore stated after effects. In a sense then I was born to deteriorate, and ultimately die. As I or you get older we are reminded of this finiteness in a myriad of ways.
Since I have become a better candidate for the AARP I realize that I now groan for the simplest tasks. If I bend down to pick up a book from the bottom shelf I may tweak my lower back and be out of commission for a few minutes. If I walk up the stairwell to my arpartment onto the third floor--I am usually huffing and puffing by the time I hit that final stair.
Now before we become too pessimistic in our blog, just remember that you were born to die, but until then delay, delay, delay. In the process you may pull, sprain, tweak and God knows what else!
BP
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Considered "g/Gifted," but not g/Genius
In a recent "Special Issue" of the "Smithsonian," a Fall 2007 issue to be exact, the subject of distinction is raised. On the cover, "37 under 36: America's Young Innovators in the Arts and Sciences." After reading several of the entries, I was puzzled as to how and why some may have made the list over others who did not make "the list."
Several years ago I took an I.Q. test and scored 140 points. Now, to place this score in context, Albert Einstein scored 165 points, or what is commonly now considered, albeit "systematically," a genius. What did my score consider me? I certainly, by these "measurements" could not be considered genius level.
Instead, I was weighed, measured and given the label, "gifted." As a 32 year old male--I thought, "Could I possibly make it in the 37 under 36" new edition-ever? Then I was reminded of last night's CSPAN episode featuring Dr. Ben Carson, Director of Pediatric Neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital. In my early pre-medical studies at Trinity College (TC) I corresponded briefly with Dr. Carson via snail mail. Here was a man from the inner city Detroit area, or "Edge City" district, now a famed physician, speaker, author and all-around well-liked individual.
By the way--he received the afore stated distinction at the age of 30, but he has never been considered a "genius" per se. Admittedly, I am sure that others have merited such a distinction of "genius" that have yet to receive it, and vice versa; i.e. there are those that have been labeled "genius" accordingly, but do not deserve its extended privileges.
The title of his first book, given to me by my father, was titled Gifted Hands. This small volume encouraged me then, during my arduous studies in Organic Chemistry and Biochemistry at TC, as it still does via my present and onerous, doctoral labors in the Medieval Studies program at Purdue University.
As I see it--the position of the "gifted" is one of necessity and value. At this past Purdue University Convocations our president, France A. Córdova emphatically stated that her present goal is singular, "Purdue University's sole focus is to attain distinction-period."
In the wake of several accreditations, we are reminded to be useful and valuable. I have felt on several occasions less than stellar, and I hope to be of present and future relevance, but in this hope my ultimate aim is to promote those who are at the "genius" level and to make them accessible. After all, I believe this will promote spaces of interaction and development of my "gifted[ness] as well as my relevance."
Finally, I am comforted in knowing that age and distinction is not as congruous as we think. For example, Moses was utilized in his old age as was Beethoven and Bach. My aging friends then--I think we are in good company--the former was declared a latent "genius" and the latter, a hard and "gifted" worker. After readng this--where will you be situated?
F.
Several years ago I took an I.Q. test and scored 140 points. Now, to place this score in context, Albert Einstein scored 165 points, or what is commonly now considered, albeit "systematically," a genius. What did my score consider me? I certainly, by these "measurements" could not be considered genius level.
Instead, I was weighed, measured and given the label, "gifted." As a 32 year old male--I thought, "Could I possibly make it in the 37 under 36" new edition-ever? Then I was reminded of last night's CSPAN episode featuring Dr. Ben Carson, Director of Pediatric Neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital. In my early pre-medical studies at Trinity College (TC) I corresponded briefly with Dr. Carson via snail mail. Here was a man from the inner city Detroit area, or "Edge City" district, now a famed physician, speaker, author and all-around well-liked individual.
By the way--he received the afore stated distinction at the age of 30, but he has never been considered a "genius" per se. Admittedly, I am sure that others have merited such a distinction of "genius" that have yet to receive it, and vice versa; i.e. there are those that have been labeled "genius" accordingly, but do not deserve its extended privileges.
The title of his first book, given to me by my father, was titled Gifted Hands. This small volume encouraged me then, during my arduous studies in Organic Chemistry and Biochemistry at TC, as it still does via my present and onerous, doctoral labors in the Medieval Studies program at Purdue University.
As I see it--the position of the "gifted" is one of necessity and value. At this past Purdue University Convocations our president, France A. Córdova emphatically stated that her present goal is singular, "Purdue University's sole focus is to attain distinction-period."
In the wake of several accreditations, we are reminded to be useful and valuable. I have felt on several occasions less than stellar, and I hope to be of present and future relevance, but in this hope my ultimate aim is to promote those who are at the "genius" level and to make them accessible. After all, I believe this will promote spaces of interaction and development of my "gifted[ness] as well as my relevance."
Finally, I am comforted in knowing that age and distinction is not as congruous as we think. For example, Moses was utilized in his old age as was Beethoven and Bach. My aging friends then--I think we are in good company--the former was declared a latent "genius" and the latter, a hard and "gifted" worker. After readng this--where will you be situated?
F.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
The Grief of my Father and the end my Grand, parental loss
As I lay there in my bed this morning--I was brought out of my R.E.M. sleep back into this world of the "living." My phone, playing the role of an alarm clock, had the picture of my mother on the front cover, and miffed at the interuption I decided to continue sleeping.
Earlier in the week my mother had asked that I investigate on her behalf for a new Dell tower because her tower from e-Machines had decided to crash. Anyway, when I finally woke up I realized I had several missed calls and that three voice-mails later I was calling my parents. My grandmother had passed away.
This beautiful woman was to my father both his father and mother in one. You see, my father had lost his dad when he was only 11 years old and it was my grandmother, whom I always called Mina (pronounced My-Nah), who raised 9 children on her own. I have seen the place where my father grew up, and though a luscious play ground on the French colonized island of St. Lucia, it has since held to the epitome of what is poor.
At the saddened news I knew not what to tell my father about his loss, and knew less of my now defunct claim that at least one Grand parent was still alive and well. It was a great loss indeed! My father has a weakened heart, and my concerns were about his welfare. He was close to his mother.
The subject of death has been examined by me in the annals and dark corridors of literature. The Bible, the greatest literary text in any language known to humankind has extensive knowledge on the subject. Further, the subject of death and dying has been found by me in Beowulf and in the The Battle of Maldon. These literary examples contribute to my mistrust in death. What is more, the death of a literary character and the rebirthing of its author takes place in the greatest novel ever written, namely Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quijote; specifically, the second volume of the two-part text.
By experience then, I lost my mother's father about 4 years ago, my grandmother in half that time, and most recently my father's mother. Recall, I never knew or met my father's dad, but from what I can picture he apparently lives on in the genetic make up of my brother and the work ethic of my father.
Death is no respecter of persons, but it does situate the living in the context of finality, and though I do not mean for this blog post to exist in a morbid parameter--you must be aware of it! I would challenge all of you who have lost and still have, to consider your state with your own respective families and perhaps answer the phone when they call a little quicker, perhaps stay on the line just a little longer, perhaps listen a little more and even say, "I love you," or its equivalent.
Make it happen--do not wait for it to happen, because death does not wait in the shadows as I thought, but comes in the early sunrise morning over the horizon of the French mountains in St. Lucia, and sends its rays of warm sunlight on the uneven, galvanized roof and stone-hewn deck of my grandmother's home. She lives on in mere memory and in familiar iconography. I...love her still.
F.
Earlier in the week my mother had asked that I investigate on her behalf for a new Dell tower because her tower from e-Machines had decided to crash. Anyway, when I finally woke up I realized I had several missed calls and that three voice-mails later I was calling my parents. My grandmother had passed away.
This beautiful woman was to my father both his father and mother in one. You see, my father had lost his dad when he was only 11 years old and it was my grandmother, whom I always called Mina (pronounced My-Nah), who raised 9 children on her own. I have seen the place where my father grew up, and though a luscious play ground on the French colonized island of St. Lucia, it has since held to the epitome of what is poor.
At the saddened news I knew not what to tell my father about his loss, and knew less of my now defunct claim that at least one Grand parent was still alive and well. It was a great loss indeed! My father has a weakened heart, and my concerns were about his welfare. He was close to his mother.
The subject of death has been examined by me in the annals and dark corridors of literature. The Bible, the greatest literary text in any language known to humankind has extensive knowledge on the subject. Further, the subject of death and dying has been found by me in Beowulf and in the The Battle of Maldon. These literary examples contribute to my mistrust in death. What is more, the death of a literary character and the rebirthing of its author takes place in the greatest novel ever written, namely Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quijote; specifically, the second volume of the two-part text.
By experience then, I lost my mother's father about 4 years ago, my grandmother in half that time, and most recently my father's mother. Recall, I never knew or met my father's dad, but from what I can picture he apparently lives on in the genetic make up of my brother and the work ethic of my father.
Death is no respecter of persons, but it does situate the living in the context of finality, and though I do not mean for this blog post to exist in a morbid parameter--you must be aware of it! I would challenge all of you who have lost and still have, to consider your state with your own respective families and perhaps answer the phone when they call a little quicker, perhaps stay on the line just a little longer, perhaps listen a little more and even say, "I love you," or its equivalent.
Make it happen--do not wait for it to happen, because death does not wait in the shadows as I thought, but comes in the early sunrise morning over the horizon of the French mountains in St. Lucia, and sends its rays of warm sunlight on the uneven, galvanized roof and stone-hewn deck of my grandmother's home. She lives on in mere memory and in familiar iconography. I...love her still.
F.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Is there anything new under the sun?
My inquisitive brethren I pose this question to you in its fullest hammer-like swing and thunderous thump on the temple of your existence. Namely, in the form of a confession:
I am an interpreter and perhaps translator of my time regardless of past appeal; as a Medievalist and Philosopher (as if both are A and -A of each other)--I am responsible; my "thought-trains," as Arendt before me has posited, are informed, and my response is...against indifference and appeals toward relevance. I am twice removed; I am a French Black and Spanish, Carib-Indian. By compound then--I am human, and my elemental stew is legion.
How will you approach one who is equipped with so much différence; how will you be aware of your privileged tongue; what will you refrain from saying; the problem is yours and mine, and collectively it can be said to be ours, but whose is it first?
Presented another way--which holds preeminence, the chicken or the egg? That's easy--the chicken. Why? Becuase in its simplest form--the questions addresses: Which came first that which creates, or that which is created? Obviously, that which can continue to give birth--must precede that which has been birthed. Put another way--which came first: the written or the thought?
No two people thoroughly agree on the afore stated matter, but what is at stake here? Are these mere exercises of the mind? No. We must find the point of relevance and then enter through such gates into the promised corral of interpreted discourse. But we must look for it and approach humbly, albeit some are more equipped than others to enter, but still all who are born from a woman are liable, culpable and must respond.
As in the words of Ayn Rand, "The explanation rests" and so do I--for now.
F.
I am an interpreter and perhaps translator of my time regardless of past appeal; as a Medievalist and Philosopher (as if both are A and -A of each other)--I am responsible; my "thought-trains," as Arendt before me has posited, are informed, and my response is...against indifference and appeals toward relevance. I am twice removed; I am a French Black and Spanish, Carib-Indian. By compound then--I am human, and my elemental stew is legion.
How will you approach one who is equipped with so much différence; how will you be aware of your privileged tongue; what will you refrain from saying; the problem is yours and mine, and collectively it can be said to be ours, but whose is it first?
Presented another way--which holds preeminence, the chicken or the egg? That's easy--the chicken. Why? Becuase in its simplest form--the questions addresses: Which came first that which creates, or that which is created? Obviously, that which can continue to give birth--must precede that which has been birthed. Put another way--which came first: the written or the thought?
No two people thoroughly agree on the afore stated matter, but what is at stake here? Are these mere exercises of the mind? No. We must find the point of relevance and then enter through such gates into the promised corral of interpreted discourse. But we must look for it and approach humbly, albeit some are more equipped than others to enter, but still all who are born from a woman are liable, culpable and must respond.
As in the words of Ayn Rand, "The explanation rests" and so do I--for now.
F.
The Dalai Lama @ Purdue University
I just came back from an interesting experience which concerned a meeting with "His Holiness," the 14th Dalai Lama at Purdue University's Elliot Hall of Music; the event was sponsored by Purdue University Convocations et al.
I though the "talk[s]" by the Lama were simple, memorable and equipped with his quirky laugh--a moment of basic reminder. It was not what I expected and though I differed on numerous points I applaud his resolve on two simple matters that have recently been guised as complex; first, compassion, love and of such a sentiment's appropriation disseminated throughout the land one human at a time; second, the Lama urged for more collaboration on matters of faith and/or religions via suspension of cultural biases through secularism.
When asked to address the current war in Iraq and our, rather this country's present executive branch's decision, he mentions a fondness for president Bush but a frown[ness] for an aggression that is fought on biased motives incongruous with the helping of our "enemy," whomever they may be. I wonder if at some point of intersection might the neighbor, those whom we come in contact with, might be construed or rather conflated to be that "enemy" of sorts?
I write this because we are involved in a world that desires for the melting pot of belief systems to work together in peaceful harmony. According to the Lama we are born with responsibility (Levinas anyone), but more so--we are urged to bring compassion to the masses of what Girard and Derrida before him call le différence. My inquiry is a simple one--if mimetic desire is in everyone and mimetic rivalry an inevitable construction of the self, selves, and the like--then how are we able to find peace exactly?
Who truly can deliver peace; i.e. define it and package it and then distribute it throughout the land and lands. How can this be possible when I am born to covet, and though the law educates me as to my condition--I am still culpable, no. No Dalai Lama nor peaceful resolve will work in a world where différence is privileged unless we harness what mimetic condition we do privilege.
Again, the afternoon proceedings with "His Holiness" was an interesting one, and one that fostered neurogenesis in the form of this blog.
F.
I though the "talk[s]" by the Lama were simple, memorable and equipped with his quirky laugh--a moment of basic reminder. It was not what I expected and though I differed on numerous points I applaud his resolve on two simple matters that have recently been guised as complex; first, compassion, love and of such a sentiment's appropriation disseminated throughout the land one human at a time; second, the Lama urged for more collaboration on matters of faith and/or religions via suspension of cultural biases through secularism.
When asked to address the current war in Iraq and our, rather this country's present executive branch's decision, he mentions a fondness for president Bush but a frown[ness] for an aggression that is fought on biased motives incongruous with the helping of our "enemy," whomever they may be. I wonder if at some point of intersection might the neighbor, those whom we come in contact with, might be construed or rather conflated to be that "enemy" of sorts?
I write this because we are involved in a world that desires for the melting pot of belief systems to work together in peaceful harmony. According to the Lama we are born with responsibility (Levinas anyone), but more so--we are urged to bring compassion to the masses of what Girard and Derrida before him call le différence. My inquiry is a simple one--if mimetic desire is in everyone and mimetic rivalry an inevitable construction of the self, selves, and the like--then how are we able to find peace exactly?
Who truly can deliver peace; i.e. define it and package it and then distribute it throughout the land and lands. How can this be possible when I am born to covet, and though the law educates me as to my condition--I am still culpable, no. No Dalai Lama nor peaceful resolve will work in a world where différence is privileged unless we harness what mimetic condition we do privilege.
Again, the afternoon proceedings with "His Holiness" was an interesting one, and one that fostered neurogenesis in the form of this blog.
F.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)
