Our Ephemeral Times

I was discussing with one of my colleagues the other day about the new pedagogical renewal occurring in our province these days. One of the great disadvantages of this reform is that as old textbooks become outdated, the need for new ones increases. However, new textbooks are not being approved as quickly as the old ones are being made obsolete. As a veteran teacher, my colleague has seen pedagogical reform before and tells me that as early as the 60s, the mentality was such that books themselves were becoming obsolete and that we did not need new textbooks. And this was before the age of the Internet.

There are several problems with this mentality, especially in this age of information. The first one is that if we are to use the Internet almost exclusively, we have to change our perception that everything we read is fact. The advantage of books is that not everyone can publish them (the expense of self-publishing aside) and therefore most things in print meet a certain standard of accuracy. With the Internet, where everyone and their cat has a blog, anyone can publish anything. There is no censoring and much debate as to whether censorship should be taking place on the Internet. Our students lack the ability and are not being taught the skills they need to evaluate critically everything they come across. In the past, this was not entirely necessary (although beneficial) but if books become obsolete it becomes absolutely crucial.

The second problem is there even if everything on the Internet had the same degree of accuracy as the hardcopy world. You can find something really great on the Internet and the next day you'll be surfing Highway 404 (Page Not Found). Have you ever tried visiting all your old bookmarks? So few of them actually work after a year. Even my own webpage, after updating it time and time again doesn't resemble what it does when I first created it. How can I see how I have grown and changed as a person if I can't look back and grimace over the early years (as I can with my hardcopy journal). The ephemeral nature of the Internet does not allow us to effectively study the past, and we have all heard the adage about those who do not learn their history being condemned to repeat it.

One of the great advantages with this digital age, however, is the ability to live in the moment. We know what is happening in our world at any given moment because as soon as it happens, it's on the Internet. People are more hesitant to do things that they think might get negative publicity (unless you believe all publicity is good publicity). This global village makes us feel like neighbours with people halfway around the world, which is fundamental to the peace process.

Regardless of what happens, I hope we learn the skills necessary and adapt to the difficulties that these problems present.

"Censorship, like Charity, should begin at home; but unlike Charity, it should end there."-Luce

The Road Less Traveled

Besides being a poem by Robert Frost, and a best-selling self-help book by one of my favourite authors, what is the road less traveled? We are encouraged to take it, whatever it ends up meaning for our lives.

We have but one life to live, at least, in our present incarnation or that we know about. And while we lead our lives to the best of our abilities, there is only so much we can accomplish. We cannot be suburban housewives and glamourous movie stars at the same time, although either wishes they could change places from time to time. They are simply incompatible. And yet, who has taken the road less traveled? The movie star, simply because there are less of them? These are the existential questions that haunt us every day and fill us with regret. How do we know we are living the life we should be, when there are so many lives we could be leading?

Furthermore, if everyone began taking the road less traveled, wouldn't it no longer be so? Our society, so fixated on uniqueness to the point where we are all rebellious and non-conformists in the same way. Doesn't that make the old road less traveled look like a well-worn path?

The answers, as with any philosophical question, are few. I think the only two cents I have to add is that perhaps we just have to have confidence as we head down any road, certain that regardless of the path we chose, it is the one we want to be living. It is only with this confidence that we can drown out the sounds of the existential angst that plagues us.

""Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."-Robert Frost

Time is of the Essence

Rereading my post on Existential Angst, I've realised that I've learned a little more about Existentialism and therefore have to change my explanation of what it really is. So I guess we'll all go to bed a little less stupid tonight. I've just finished reading Sartre's Nausee, although, regrettably, not in the original French (pretentious enough for you? Seriously though, translations are tricky and should be avoided whenever possible).

The protagonist of the story is a writer going about his daily business. The style of writing is much like Alan Lightman or Jeanette Winterson, a stream of consciousness where you often find yourself unsure if he's having a flashback, a dream or it's really happening. It is mostly incomprehensible as a message, except that the protagonist eventually realizes that everything he's doing is pointless. This is what I used to believe the sole nature of Existentialism was.

I have had several existential moments since reading this text, and now I understand it a lot better. First, I contemplate sitting in front of the TV all evening. Second, I sit at a bureaucratic meeting where motions are passed and we all sit like chimps and raise our hands when told. Everything has been decided in advance, and our "vote" doesn't even count (no really, it happened just yesterday). The existential thought is not that these things don't matter but "Am I really doing all that I should be with the time that I have?" This is what the protagonist was wondering, and to a certain extent it paralyzed him.

Life is short. We all know that. Meanings can easily be taken away, and there are no certain answers. So how do we know we are using our time to its full potential? That is the true essence of existentialism. I realised this weekend how attached I am to time. I could sit alone, I don't crave company as much as others. I don't need too much (I like to think of myself as a modern day Thoreau) but I couldn't stop checking the time. A beautiful long weekend, with nothing to do but sit and relax, and I care about if it is 10 or 11. Odd, isn't it?

"Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of." -Benjamin Franklin

Best. Book. Ever.

Ok, so maybe it was not THE best book ever. But it was certainly a damn good book and anyone who's in the know will know why I chose the title of the post to be what it is. The book, BTW, is called Planet Simpson, by Chris Turner, a fellow Gen-Xer whom I will describe as a fellow pretentious philosopher. Yes, the book is that good.

So let's get down to business and blog away. I mentioned that my peer was a Gen-Xer because that's the post today. This book (which I think is about our generation primarily and the Simpsons secondarily) speaks a lot about what it means to be Generation X. It sort of brought together a lot of ideas that I've been having about what it means to live in the time we live in and who we are. Who I am, given that I live in this time.

One thing that really spoke to me was our extreme individualism (see 1776 for my previous ranting on the subject). We think we are all so cool and new and not owing anything to wherever it is that we are descended from, as Chris says so adeptly in his book "[there is] an implicit argument that not only do we as citizens owe nothing to the institutions that gave us our comfortable and prosperous lives, but that we as individuals owe no debt to the people that gave us life." Yet Chris himself gives the perfect example of this in his book. He tells a story about a concert that he went to when he was reintroduced to rock'n'roll. It was dead to him, it had all been done before, and then, this concert came along and restored his faith in that particular institution. The part that really got to me though, was that the song the person happened to be singing (which was the person's own epiphany about creating something new when it's all been done before) was that the main lyrics were basically saying thanks for nothing. Chris, do you even realise the irony?

Chris gives many other examples of this extreme individualism in his book. The symptoms of this are people who don't give a shit for anything or anyone else because they are too busy caring about themselves. Are we really becoming that much of a self-centered society? The "I" began its existence in 1776 but we have reached the pinnacle where the only thing that exists is the I. Forget "I wandered lonely as a cloud." Who the fuck cares about the cloud? I'm lonely and the world owes it to me that I not be lonely.

We often forget that we were never promised a rose garden and that it was only the pursuit of happiness that was proposed. We may as well be chasing clouds for all the good it has done. So how does my generation deal with all of this? We watch The Simpsons and laugh our asses off. Why is it so funny? Because it shows us our folly right in our faces. It shows us the way the world is, and not the way the world should be. If only it could show us how to reconcile the two, it could win the Nobel prize.

Recommended Reading: Planet Simpson by Chris Turner
Recommended Viewing: For something else that strikes you right in the face, no-holds-barred, try watching Dead Like Me. It also proves that I am not the only freak out there obsessed with death.

"The answer to the great Question of...Life, the Universe and Everything...is Forty-Two." -Douglas Adams [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy]

Oh, The Humanity

I've been thinking a lot about human nature lately. When I say human nature, I guess I'm wondering about the destructive or evil inclinations we have. Graffiti (tags specifically) particularly bothers me because it is ugly and pointless. Pure destructiveness. The metro (subway) station near where I live (and consequently take everyday to work) is littered with graffiti on the tarp that covers up the escalator that's under repair. Furthermore, there is so much litter under the tarp that you have to wonder: wouldn't it just be easier to throw it in the garbage? It's not like there aren't any around. We often use expressions like, "to err is human" or "he's only human" or "that's just human nature." I think one of the things people say that really bothers me is when they try to excuse themselves by saying it's only natural. To paraphrase M. Scott Peck: shitting in your pants is only natural.

What does this imply? That human nature, like the Christians believe, is base? Are we truly burdened with Original Sin? M. Scott Peck wrote a fabulous book on human nature called People of the Lie, and talks about why evil exists in the world. His belief is that we should not be disappointed when we see evil, but we should expect it. We should be more surprised when we see good in the world, because people are not naturally inclined to do good. This is probably a very depressing idea to most people.

To say that we are "sinners" and leave it at that is a naive concept. I think what makes us human is not just that we are inclined to do evil but that we are capable of learning to do better. I think, to be bold, this is how we make our life meaningful: by striving to be better people and improve ourselves in all areas of our poor existence. This is what truly separates us from the animals. It is not just our freedom of choice, in which we can choose to follow our baser instincts, or rational thought (a higher level of consciousness, if you will), which we can avoid, but a combination of these with the ambition to better ourselves. A good example of this is freedom of speech. Truly, we can say what we want. We can think and say things that show how intelligent and self-aware we are. Or we can decide to follow our baser instincts and say things for the sake of being provocative, without any thought as to the consequences (the incident with the editorial cartoon of the prophet Mohammed comes to mind).

In the end, as M. Scott Peck points out, we give up shitting in our pants. We figure out that it is not the way things are done, and make an effort to do something completely unnatural: hold it in, sit on a funny receptacle and flush it away. My hope is that in the end, we will give up our other baser natural instincts and strive for something purer.

"The problem with this world is that people are all too aware of their rights and not aware enough of their responsibilities."