The Truth is Stranger Than it Used to Be

Today at church, during the ‘turn and greet your neighbor time’ I met someone.

His name, I think, is D. J.–or maybe it was L. J., or B. J.–it should be clear at this point that I’m not good with names. He was sitting alone, and I felt compelled to say ‘Hi’ and shake his hand because he seemed out of place. We didn’t talk for long, but I found out during the brief break that it was his first time at our church, so I wanted to make him feel as welcome as possible and made a mental note to plan to talk with him after the service. But, after the service, at precisely the moment I was thinking of starting a conversation with him, he leaned forward and asked me a question. “This is going to sound strange,” he said, “but do you have a girlfriend?”

I didn’t know what to say.

That’s a pretty forward question, and it’s not what you lead with with unless you’re a little awkward; I was taken back. In part, because I was expecting the conversation to only get more awkward, but mostly because this topic has been much on my mind. You see, my dating experience isn’t that comprehensive, and in the past five years has, with a brief interlude in the past two months, consisted of unmitigated pain. At some point I will write a blog about that experience; this won’t be it. The key point, though, is that the person I wanted to date kept hammering on the same thing over, and over, and over, and over, and over again (I think I counted those right). And, somewhere along the way I started to internalize the perpetual rejection. I came to believe that I was inadequate, that something was wrong with me for liking this person, and that I was really more of an inconvenience than a blessing. I was told, repeatedly, that this person didn’t value me–regardless of whether that was true or not–I was hurt a great deal by it. Hearing it too frequently has kept me from healing. The hammering didn’t drive the I-don’t-want-to-date-you point home, it created a need where none had existed previously. I now feel that one of the most important things I’m looking for is someone who wants me; I need to be desired.

It’s a strange place to be at 30, to be wanting someone who will want me. In some trivial sense we all want someone who wants us; what I mean is that I will need constant reassurance that I’m not about to be dumped, and that my partner is enjoying the relationship. In a strange way, I’ve connected with a long dead grandfather over the issue. One of my aunts once said that she thought her mother had never really appreciated her father; she could be difficult just to be difficult, and hadn’t valued him. I’m sure this broke his heart a little bit. I feel like I can empathize, since it breaks my heart a little bit for him. I will not repeat that mistake.

Dating has been much on my mind because I’ve been wondering if maybe my standards are too high. I’ve been thinking “Maybe you have a warped view of marriage. Maybe you’re to idealistic. Maybe you should just ‘settle’ because it’s better than being alone for the rest of your life.” These are, of course, dangerous ideas. You shouldn’t marry someone you aren’t into; part of being into someone is finding them attractive; both intellectually and physically. You can grow to love someone, you don’t normally try and change what you enjoy/find attractive. Another shaping experience I’ve had occurred when I was sixteen. One of the manager’s where I worked, if I remember correctly, was named Nadine. One morning we went to deliver the daily cash deposit to the bank. And, in the five minute drive she told me something that explained a great deal of herself. She told me she was afraid of growing old alone. She was eighteen at the time, and she was also dating/living with a thirty year old. Until just now, I’ve never though about what she needed to hear: she needed to be called beautiful; she needed to be desired.

“No, not really,” I said blushing and looking around. “Don’t worry about it. God has someone great planned for you,” he said making eye contact. My face went bright red; I became awkward and think I stammered “Thanks.” Then he left. For a moment I just stood stunned. It seemed as though he had read my mind. I turned to leave the isle, and started walking in the opposite direction he had. I thought, “I don’t want to run into this person in the lobby and have an even more awkward conversation there. I’ve no idea what to say to that.” But, as I moved to the back of the church, something changed. I wanted to confront him about it; I wanted to know why he said it, what prompted it, and on what basis he could make such a claim. So I intentionally hurried to the lobby, and began to look for him, but he was gone.

I don’t know that it was a ‘prophetic word.’ And, I get very easily annoyed by the Christian usage of such language. Why phrase something in Christianese when you can say the same thing in normal language–without sounding like you’re a nut-bar?

But, it was something I’ve needed to hear for a long time.
Funny, that coincidence.

drt.

In The Summer Time, When the Weather is Hot…

I’ll be reading these books:

Epistemic Justification-Swinburne
The Logic of Perfection-Hartshorne
Faith and Reason-Swinburne
The Structure of Scientific Revolutions-Kuhn
The One Possible Basis for a Demonstration of The Existence of God-Kant
Problems of Knowledge-Williams
Insight-Lonergan
The Nature of Necessity-Plantinga
Naming and Necessity-Kripke
On the Plurality of Worlds-Lewis
Beyond “Justification”-Alston
The Malaise of Modernity-Taylor

I’ll also plan to learn how to do game theory over the summer, and brushing up on my logic skills. I’m going to sail, write, travel, and play soccer.

And, I’m really looking forward to it; yesterday I got my first sunburn of the summer–and deep down, it felt good.

drt.

In My Father’s (and Mother’s) House

I think I’ve decided that I’d like to own, and live in, my parents’ house. To begin with, it is absolutely beautiful. It is a six (seven?) bedroom house in the country, nestled into 26 acres of forest, and looks over a ravine where two rivers intersect. The exterior of the house is stone, but the interior is an assortment of hardwoods–which are heated radiantly. On the coldest of days, the two gigantic granite fireplaces provide that extra blanket like toasty-ness. Physically, the house is ideal for entertaining. Informally, one can enjoy tea in the breakfast nook just off the kitchen, or a movie in the ‘cozy’ room. For larger parties, the dinning room, and ‘great’ room do nicely. Though, ‘larger parties’ do in fact need to be large–the cathedral ceiling of the great room makes even the biggest group seem manageable. The six burner gas stove, and dual ovens make preparing food for company that much simpler, as do the built in butcher/chopping block.

In the last few days, I’ve been wandering around thinking “what would I do to change this house?” The answer, comes in two parts. First, I would convert two of the upstairs bedrooms into a library and study. In the first room one could easily build in five, or six, bookcases and then still have room for a comfortable reading chair facing out of the south window. The thick floors (yes radiant heating upstairs, and in the basement, too!), as well as, the solid maple/cherry doors ensure that sound doesn’t travel–making it the ideal place for reading. In the bedroom converted to study, I envision a gas fireplace, flanked by deep leather chairs. The room’s bay window is perfectly placed, and sized, for a man sized desk. [In fact, it is this place that I am writing from. With my feet perched up on the window frame, I am enjoying the comfort of what I consider to be the perfect reading chair.] The second modification I would make, is installing a terraced stone ramp down to the rivers’ delta, where I would have my vegetable garden and orchard. It is true, spring floods might cause problems; I imagine building retaining walls around the fruit trees, to keep most of the dirt in-tacked, and to raise the trees up a little bit. I’d likely have to build a fence around the garden–to keep the deer and other critters away. But, the rivers would provide a natural source of water, and the soil is rich and sandy: perfect for an expansive, and successful, vegetable garden. In the fall, after harvest, I could even hang things to dry off the giant beams in the kitchen nook, or make cider in the (as of not yet built) garage.

It is, of course, unlikely that I ever will own this house. And, whatever meager chances I had, are made even more unlikely by the fact that I hope to be an academic. Unless I become an investment banker, a lawyer, or an actuary, I’ll never make as much as my father does. It is almost certain that the quality of life I enjoyed in my youth, is going to be higher than the one that my children are likely to enjoy. There is hope, though.

Perhaps I’ll marry an investment banker, a lawyer, or an actuary. Maybe, my strategy of playing the lottery ‘when it’s over 20 million and it’s a full moon’ will come through. Or, maybe, when I’m out sailing magical mermaids will lead me to a treasure chest full of gold bars. I might yet be wrongly convicted of a crime I don’t commit. These are all live options; heck, they’re not just live options, they’re probable future events. The future is open. I intend on making the most of it.

A Reckoning

I have never been an exceptional student. For all the time I’ve spent in school and university, I’ve never been “brilliant.” Much of my “success” has been due to persistence and hard work. But, at the same time, much hasn’t.

It is a shame that I never took philosophy as seriously as I should have. It many senses it was easy for me. I get the methodology. I get that certain things follow. I’m creative, and approach things from a different perspective than most people, and thinking outside the box is crucial in philosophy. Math, however, was a different story. It was all hard work, and all persistence. Theology, which is what I have studied for the last year or so, is something I’m not interested in. Not at all. Which is unfortunate, because I do a lot better when I’m interested in something.

So, my academic record isn’t stellar. Which would not be an issue if I was going to be say, a mechanic, or a ditch digger, or an investment banker, or any one of any number of careers. But the problem is I have hoped for a very long time to be a professor. Not only have I hoped for it, but I really believe that I’d be good at it. I’d even go so far as to say that I think I’d be very good at it.

But, my academic record doesn’t seem to say that I would. Or at least, thats what people in the know tell me. Part of the problem is that I’ve made bad choices. I choose courses based on what interests me, not what I’ll be good at. I take courses for credit when I should just audit them. I don’t buddy up to professors. Generally, it seems that academia can be seen as a sort of game. A game that I’m pretty bad at playing, and a game who’s rules I think are pretty stupid.

I mean, I love learning. Don’t get me wrong here. If I was given infinite resources, I would probably spend a great deal of my time studying and reading in a university library. In part because I’m an introvert, but in part because I like to know stuff to think about stuff. Ideas are important; the more history I learn, the more I see how ideas have shaped it. It would be foolish to think the ideas of tomorrow aren’t being shaped by the attitudes and beliefs of today.

So why am I concerned? Well, because I’ve come to the realization that I’m in dire straights. My marks currently aren’t good enough to get into a PhD program, and are unlikely to improve drastically. I am older than most of the applicants I will be competing against, I’ve taken a long time to complete my degrees, and I’m unpublished. None of these things guarantees that I can’t or won’t be a professor. But they aren’t good indicators, and mean that something needs to happen.

That something is that I need to publish. I need to publish a bunch of papers that show I have value to the academic establishment, and that I can excuse my marks, and my extra years in school. I find conciliation in that I’ve always thought that I’m better at original thought than at coursework. But, now that things are down to the wire, I’m less sure. Enough less sure that I’m seriously thinking about about what my “plan B” career path should be.

At this point, I’ve got nothing.

D.R.T.