Existentialism Part 2

My AP Literature teacher posed a question to the class today.  He said, “Now, if an 11th grade Honors English student came up to you and said that he read The Stranger, but didn’t know what it was all about, what would you say to him?  Why is The Stranger important?”  He gave us some time to think through our response, and then proceeded to call on Joel, a boy who will major in literature in college (he wants to be a writer).  He proceeded to explain the events in the book in correlation to Camus’ existentialism, and upon fading in and out of the classroom mentally, there was one point Joel made that had me confused.  He said that the protagonist had no meaning in the first part of the book, and in the second part, came to terms with his meaninglessness before his execution.  There was mentioned a “resolution” and somewhere in his lengthy explanation some sort of final “meaning.”  That, to me, didn’t add up.  Philosophy is one big geometry proof with ideas, so all puzzles must make a whole somewhere.

Then Joel was done talking, and his friend Drew started talking, and then my teacher became very excited with all the points they made and things they said, but I was still confused.  So I raised my hand and said, “I guess I still don’t understand.  What I’m hearing from you is that in finding that life was meaningless, the protagonist found meaning.”  I really wanted to understand what they all were saying about existentialism, but it really is so myopic and totally opposite of all I’ve ever known.  So I was happy to get the 10 minute explanation from my teacher, all of which almost made sense, but fell just short.  Through it all he became very excited but paused at the end when he said, “I’m getting the feeling that you still don’t get it.  Am I right?”  To which I said, “No…”  And he continued again.  This next part made perfect sense to me.  He drew a stick figure on the board and said, “Let’s say this is you,” drew a big circle around me, “and this is the universe.  According to previous thought, all these morals and ideals determine your decisions, whether they be by religion or spirituality or whatever.”  He drew some arrows pointing down on my head to represent the causes of my decisions.  “Now, in existentialism, there is none of that.  It’s just you, and your own free will determines the decisions you make.  There are no other people in this circle, see?  It’s just you, and your actions in the face of eternity don’t matter.”  He then proceeded to explain that The Stranger’s protagonist determined by himself, with no other factor influencing him, that killing the Arab was wrong.

I understood.  “So,” I said, “in his resolution, he did recognize a moral system in the end.”

That made my teacher pause a little.  He said, “You’re very good,” and tried to reexplain what he had already explained to me.  So I helped him see what I was seeing.  “I’m not saying that he recognized the murder of the Arab for religion’s sake, but that he did recognize a moral system.”  To which my teacher replied, “I’m not so sure about a moral system, but a moral, yeah.”  He then related his answer to a discussion we’d had earlier in the year in the difference of generosity of men: the man who is generous for generosity’s sake was more virtuous than the man who was generous to get a reward in heaven.  I remember that discussion.  It was between him, me, and a girl I used to sit next to.  That one left me a little uneasy.  His answer didn’t quite sit right with me, and I didn’t know why at the time, but now I do.  Christians do charitable work because of the fluidity of God’s Spirit in our hearts, not because we want a prize in heaven.  When God’s Spirit is able to move through our lives and hearts, all is transformed.  We don’t do things out of selfishness, but because the Spirit has so worked in us that love acts are done unconsciously.

This whole portion took the rest of the class time.  Towards the end, Drew seemed to pick up on what I was saying and took it a little further on his own track.  I don’t remember what he said, but my teacher did say that my point was where existentialism gets “a little murky.”

Now, I want to say that this teacher happens to be a particular favorite of mine this year.  I wouldn’t say that he’s trying to ram existentialism down our throats, but rather understand a philosophy.  He is totally open to discussion and debate all the time, and he respects our principles and beliefs as he expects us to respect his.  So I’m afraid, Babba, that I didn’t do a very good job giving him good representation in my last post.  I don’t know if he does or doesn’t doubt himself, but he is a great teacher, and I am very happy to have had him this year.

Albert Camus’ Existentialism

Is Albert Camus’ The Stranger really the most important book of the 20th century?  After talking a little about existentialism, my AP Literature teacher asked my class if we liked the book.  The whole class except me and one other girl loved the book.  He asked her why she didn’t like it, and then he came to me (we’ve had philosophical and basic point of view disagreements all year, so he likes to pick on me for my interpretation sometimes) and said, “Hannah, why didn’t you like the book, which, in my opinion, is the most important book of the 20th century?”

Why didn’t I like The Stranger?  Perhaps, on a basic level, because I found I couldn’t relate to the character.  I have a well developed system of values and morals that help me aspire for something greater; my life has purpose because God gives it purpose.  I may never understand life, but I can understand what God has enabled me to understand, and that is enough.  The protagonist of The Stranger, however, cares about nothing.  Everything is meaningless, himself included.  He did not grieve over his mother’s death, he did not want a chance to work in Paris as provided by his boss, he did not suffer despair after murdering an Arab.  The only seemingly resolution he ever makes (and I’m not even sure it was a resolution at that, because he doesn’t seem to have an ounce of conviction in his character) was of the strange satisfaction he would experience as the public shouted at him at his execution.

A character who cares about nothing, becomes nothing, and dies as something almost sounds good.  Is that why the book is considered great literature?  But then again, who am I to judge whether literature is great or not?  I let sentimentality ruin my writing.

Perhaps I can make a tentative stab at the author’s vehement philosophy: existentialism.  From what I gather from my teacher’s lectures on existentialism, life is meaningless.  We know we exist, we know we are alive, but human morality is meaningless, values are dead, and nothing really matters.  We also know life by itself is meaningless from a biblical standpoint (Ecclesiastes 1,2).  But why am I so against an apparent truth?  Because Ecclesiastes 3:9-14 says,

What does the worker gain from his toil?  I have seen the burden God has laid on men.  He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.  I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live.  That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil–this is the gift of God.  I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and noting taken from it.  God does it so that men will revere him.

This is an amazing section of Ecclesiastes.  After asking in chapter 1:3, “What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?”  the question is answered:  man gains rest.  Man may enjoy his food and drink and find satisfaction in his work.  Emptiness is filled, meaninglessness is given purpose and direction.  Ah!  So life is not meant to be a series of nothings?  We are not meant to carry the burden of our own empty existences?  No.  If we look to God, He will carry our burdens, give us rest and give us meaning.

Since that is true, then we are looking for a way up and out of the world as we know it and into a new perspective.  This sounds very familiar.  If you do not remember my post on Plato’s theory of the cave, then jog your memory by scrolling down a bit.  If we wanted out of this cave of shadows, then someone would have to tell us about light, and we would have to believe him.  He would then have to lead us into the sunshine, not all at once because our eyes need to adjust, but bit by bit, and here we are: no longer shadow people, but real people.  Here comes the connection: if God is the truth and the light, and we are the shadow people, then Jesus must be the messenger.  “No one comes to the Father except through me.”

So here’s why I don’t like Camus’ The Stranger.  It seems to me that the existentialist theme almost verges on the ridiculous: people searching for meaning in life discover there’s none, and then wallow in their own indifference.  But the thing is, the protagonist’s indifference comes off as a burden to everyone else he associates with: the mother misses her son and never sees him before she dies, the boss becomes frustrated and needs to find another person to take the protagonist’s place in France, and the protagonist’s defense lawyer loses the case, resulting in the execution of the protagonist himself, who, of course, doesn’t mind because he believes that life is meaningless.  The ridiculousness became apparent to me when I realized his indifference was really selfishness regarding other people.  Maybe nothing mattered to him, but everyone else seemed to care for something.

So now I wonder…is existentialism really a valid philosophy, or is it just an excuse not to go beyond the shadows?

Dresses Can Talk (and they’re pretty annoying, too)

There is a dress that hangs just outside my door.

I’ll never wear it, though

I was convinced I would.

But now it stares at me stonily, asking,

“When can I hug your curves again?”

To which I may reply,

“Not today, dress,

No, not today.”

“When can I hug your curves again?”

“Not now, dress, not ever.”

“Not ever?”

“There’s no need.  I can’t very well wear you to work

or the market for that matter.  You might be soiled,

and then what?”

“Well then, why don’t you just mail me back to my mistress?”

“I’m too lazy.”

“Too lazy?!”

“Oh, shut up.”

In other more logical news, I baked my friend’s birthday cake this past week.  Angel food cake with chocolate mousse filling and orange frosting.

It was the first time I ever made angel food cake, and I got the consistency all wrong.  I didn’t whip the egg whites long enough.  It came out fine, but I knew I could make it perfectly if I did it all over again.  So I dropped off the test cake at work, where it was completely eaten within a day and started all over again.  I got it just right, like I thought I would.  I shredded some chocolate over the top of my second cake, and viola!

The frosting took a pound of confectioner’s sugar.  A pound. Needless to say, I think many a sweet tooth were taken care of that night.

Need. Vacation. Now.

Wake up.

Devotional (highlight of the day).

Get ready for the day.

School.

*Boy tries to look through purse*

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for your water bottle.”

“Get out of my purse.  Now.”

Home.

Homework.

Work.

Home.

Homework.

Bed.

Wake up.  [Is it Friday, yet?...No.  It's Tuesday.]

Devotional (highlight of the day).

Get ready for the day.

School.

“Mom, where did you park the car?”

“You need it right now?”

“Yeah.  I have to go volunteer.”

“But I thought you had to leave at 1 and be back by 2.”

“Nooo…I have to leave now and be back by 1.  If I had to be back by 2, I wouldn’t come back at all.”

“I’m swinging around.  Hang on!”

Home.

Homework.

Bed.

Wake up. [I have to work today.]

Devotional (Highlight of the day).

Get ready for the day.

School. [Somehow I can't shake this guy off my tail.  Somebody please shut him up. 3rd period is not the time for talking at all.  Is my purse protected?...Yeah. Weirdo.]

Home.

Homework.

Work.

Homework.

Bed.

91 more days til graduation and counting.

Can I have the cooties, please?

Tell me the library is a boring place to work.

Yesterday I went to take my break with a new book I was kind of excited about.  I work in the morning to the early afternoon, so break is usually just one other page and me.  I sat down and started to read.  It was quiet.  And then…

“How far are you on your shelfreading?”

It took me a moment.  I was getting into my book.

“Uhhh…I don’t know.  I finished biographies and I’ve just started nonfiction.”

“Oh.”

I returned to my book and had to reread the same paragraph as before.  Not that rereading is a pet peeve or anything.

“So how many do you think you have done?”

What was with the shelfreading?  “Maybe 30?”

“Ah.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Do you want to play rock-paper-scissors?”

“Why?”

“If you win, I do half of your shelfreading.  If I win, you go on a date with me.”

“…!…”

“How about 3 out of 5?”

Stupid me.  Stuuuuuuupid.  IDIOT!  I was so shocked by this…it came completely out of the blue!  All I could think was “Ha ha!…No,” but I couldn’t figure out a nice way of putting it into words.  Later I could. And of course, I thought the whole thing was hilarious in the moment.  Rock-paper-scissors for a date?  It took me the 5 minutes I had left of break when he had left that I realized he was actually serious.  So what did I do?  I played.  We were tied and down to the 5th toss where I lost.  Yes, that’s right.  I played.  And I lost.  In case any of you are wondering, this post only is a free coupon to hurl some good zingers at me.

Idiot.  I am so stupid.  It was so the shock factor.  5 minutes later when I went back to work, I thought of all sorts of things I could have said.  Like “No.”  Or the possibility that I would just hurt him more by not telling him no.  I wish I could have showed you all my face.  It was total deer-in-the-headlights.  Or more like, “Why thank you, brain, for your vital assistance in thinking of a sympathetic statement that wouldn’t completely destroy this poor guy’s heart.”  Or maybe it was a mixture of that and the feeling of a bandaid brush past your foot when swimming in a public wave pool.  Lovely.

And just where did this boy want to take me for The Date?  Red Osier.  Am I going?  No.  I’ll be having a wonderfully awkward conversation with him again this week about that.  Awkward conversations are what I live for.

So here’s the directions for the comment box: (1) Zinger Contest: whoever thinks of the best one-liner for the above dating predicament will receive a free goofy picture of the Great Kahuna.  The contest will be over on March 8, one week from now. (2) Think Tank: create a polite line that I could have used to decline from the rock-paper-scissors game.

Hi-ho, back I go

School.  La escuela.  Hm.

It’s the task at hand.  I should stick to the plow and press forward.  With February Break over and done with, I am very close to the long haul for the end and to my sweet, sweet diploma.

In other news, I am trying to decide which AP tests I should muster up and take.  I’m absolutely ruling out AP Economics.  I am only taking it because it was a requirement (or pork barrel fine print) for my AP Government class, which, though I really enjoy it, I find myself hesitant to ascend to the AP chopping block.  Last year I got a 2 on my AP US History exam.  So embarrassing!  And the AP test was sheer torture!  Of all the things to write an essay on, the impacts of the Vietnam war is so not my forte.  It’s hard enough distinguishing one post-modern president from another, they were all alike enough, but all the conflicts with them?  It’s hard to keep up with the new names they have developed for the same agendas.  I suppose there is a reason why Congress was the leader of the democratic trio until the 1930s; we don’t have to remember the names of the back-scratchers that haunted its halls.  The White House, on the other hand…

Anyway, I digress.  I suppose AP Literature should be a shoe-in.  I like it enough, but not enough to finish one book the class has read together this year.  Keep your Vonnegut.  If I wanted to read an emotionally-detatched book, I would open my math text book and practice statistics.  And Their Eyes Were Watching God?  Anyone can be compassionate about their hair.  Human experience, my fannie.  Give me Plato, give me the Romantics!  Give me the supernatural, imagination, the reconciliation of opposites!  A bit dramatic?  Yes, but oh so enjoyable.  Reading for school is so different than reading on my own.  I’m distracted by the time, what page I’m on, how long I have left in the book.  On my own, I am completely oblivious of the world and exasperate my mom when she repeatedly asks a question while I’m absorbed in, for example, early 19th century England.  I’m truly not ignoring her, I swear.  I just can’t hear her in my head over the noise and narritive of the book.  Amazingly enough, voices from the real world can easily mix in with those in my imagination.  When I do emerge from reverie, I’m sorry to say that I’m terribly grouchy and impatient to get back to my book.  That is the real reading experience.  Unfortunatley, my grades from second quarter have reflected the former description. *sigh*

This is my predicament.  Advice?  Thoughts?  Book reviews?

Chili and Italian flatbread

As soon as I got home from work today I set about making dinner.  I decided on a flatbread recipe I discovered while flipping through my mom’s Betty Crocker cookbook.  I was getting pretty good at baking my bread and making chili at the same time.  The flatbread needed some serious spices.  I’ll have to experiment more next time because it was far too plain for my taste.

Domesticity

I seem to be on a homemaker’s rampage lately and I blame it all on my wonderful Little Women book.  I’ve been reading it for the past week (I’ll finish it tonight!) and it’s given me all sorts of little impulses: one night I felt like sewing, the next for knitting, last night for drawing (partly to blame was an art teacher I recently visited in my old middle school), and today for cooking.  I was actually supposed to make chili today, but I forgot to thaw the ground beef, and then I had to go to work.  Oh well.  I’ll make it tomorrow.  Laundry was joyfully done by yours truly, and the kitchen was spotless.  I didn’t touch my room.  Ha ha!

If I play my cards right tomorrow, I’ll have enough time on Sunday to try a new cake recipe that is actually low in Weight Watcher points (!!!).  I’ve been wanting to try a new baking venture lately, so when I found this recipe for Chinese steamed cake, I jumped on it.

The recipe itself is really easy, but the only part I’m going to have problems with is the steaming.  I don’t have an actual steamer, and our vegetable steamer is small.  Any cooking guru out there *cough* Marianne *cough* with a solution?  I know the cake in the picture looks pretty plain, but I plan to decorate mine with some peaches mom saved from the summer.  I saw this blog where someone made steamed cake, but somehow made it into individual cupcakes.  Once I get comfortable with the recipe, that will probably be my next venture.  She also used a different recipe than the one I’m using, so I’ll just have to experiment.

In the meantime, I’ve created my own recipe notebook.  Besides two very lovely, rather large recipe books in my bookcase, I figured having a random compilation of recipes would be a nice addition to my cooking section.  Feel free to send any recipe that comes to mind!  So far I have 2, count them, 2 recipes.  They’re terribly anti-social.  They need friends.

So the plan for tomorrow: go to work, come home and make chili, get AP Government done, AP Literature done, and study for an upcoming AP Economics exam.  Do something creative with tortillas for the chili?  Maybe toast them?  Maybe I’ll make some rolls.  Then I’m free to experiment making a substitute steamer.  Hmmm.

If American economics were a Nancy Drew game…

…we’d have unlimited second chances and be rich super-sleuths.

I had to take a break from homework to share this little bit of information I uncovered in a packet for AP Economics tonight.  I might have to jump back and forth to explain things, so just bear with me.

I was looking for a definition for economic “crowding out” to answer a question when I stumbled on this lovely little paragraph in my Economics packet. *ahem*

“What would happen if the government were to increase spending by $20 billion while simultaneously increasing taxes by $20 billion?  The increase in government spending of $20 billion would cause a $100 billion increase in real GDP, while the $20 billion increase in taxes would reduce real GDP by $80 billion.  The net effect is a $20 billion increase in real GDP.  If the government has a balanced budget so that spending equals tax revenues, it can maintain the balanced budget and still stimulate real GDP.  This is because if spending and tax revenues were both raised by some amount, say $20 billion, then real GDP would increase by $20 billion.”

So let’s put this into everyday English, shall we?  The best I can do that is by relating this to a Nancy Drew game.  Ok, so let’s make Nancy Drew the federal government, deficit spending the bad guy, and 3 rusty levers our economic policy.  Here’s the setting: Nancy Drew is running away for her life from a nasty criminal called Deficit Spending.  Let’s say he was busy stealing jewelry and redistributing it to people who didn’t deserve it.  So she’s being chased, and comes to this big locked door that is her only way out.  It is locked by 3 rather rusty levers, and a sign overhead indicate they are called “Fiscal Policy.”  To get away from the culprit safely, she must put all three at exactly the same level.  The first one is called  Real GDP (Gross Domestic Product adjusted for inflation), the second is Taxes, and the third is Government Spending.  Remembering that Real GDP is somewhat of a reflection to the nation’s economic health, Nancy leaves it alone.  It is very low.  Looking at Taxes, she sees that they are on the higher side of moderate. “Hm,” she thinks, “If they go any higher, GDP will be in big trouble.”  Government Spending is very high as well.  Nancy pushes Government Spending down.  Remembering that Real GDP is already very low, she quickly pushes down Taxes as well.  The two levers are now leveled with each other at a much healthier lower rate.  The time spent between lowering Government Spending and mistakenly keeping Taxes up has fortunately created a surplus of oil in the locked door, and it begins to lubricate its hinges.  Real GDP begins to rise, slowly, because it is directly related to the door, and the door itself has not been opened for quite some time.  The culprit is getting closer and closer, and Nancy is tempted to raise Government Spending to help stimulate Real GDP, but there!  The levers are equal now and the door has opened!  She runs through and closes it fast behind her.

The culprit, Deficit Spending, was not so smart.  When the door closed, the levers readjusted themselves for the same puzzle.  In a hurry, Deficit Spending raised Government Spending to quickly create more GDP.  He was impatient, and the GDP did rise, but it was short-lived, and fell right back down again.  He then fiddled around with Taxes, but his Government Spending was still too high, and GDP fell so low that the door suddenly created a strange croaking sound and the locks rusted over to the point that any help would have to come from outside.

Oh. OH. So that means balancing the budget is not only possible while stimulating an economy, but necessary?  Oh? Deficit spending will only hurt us in the future? GASP!  BALANCING THE GOVERNMENT’S CHECK BOOK HELPS AMERICANS?!  Holy crap.  I might just fall over on the spot.

Victory

“But tension is to be loved when it is like a passing note to a beautiful, beautiful chord.”  Sixpence None the Richer, “Tension is a Passing Note”

I’m done with it all.  The bitterness is gone, most of the anger has left.  And while I still seem to have little scars left, I am well aware of the Love that is my salve.  If you were praying for me, thank you.  I’m on the other side, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more at home than I do right now.  A couple days ago I was sitting on the school bus on my way home and I realized, suddenly, that I was tired.  I was tired of the darkness, the resentment, everything that kept grating against me spiritually and emotionally.  I realized then that while I was leaning on God to get through, head down, He had led me to this place where I could drop it all.  It’s all gone.  I’m new.

God Calling, January 14: “Glad indeed are the souls with whom I walk.  Walking with Me is security.  The coming of My Spirit into a life, and Its working are imperceptible, but the result is mighty…It is not life and its difficulties you have to conquer, only the self in you.  As I said to My disciples, “I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”  You could not understand them.  But as you go on obeying Me and walking with Me, and listening to Me, you will, and then you will see how glorious, how marvelous My revelations are, and My teachings.”

I want to encourage, to help those who are going through the same things I did.  While the feelings of shortcomings are overwhelming, they are absolutely nothing compared to the sensory-overload our hearts know when Christ speaks.  Our hearts know His voice.  Darkness is not the end, and it never will be.  There will always be a dawn breaking on the horizon, but we have to learn to wait.  It’s hard to do.  It’s a hard place to be, I know.  But I’ve come to recognize that the waiting periods of our lives are often the most valuable times we have.  So don’t despair, don’t become defeated, don’t give in to fear or doubt.  Like Pastor Bob said in one of his recent sermons, “God appreciates a good struggle.”  Focus on breathing.  Focus on what you have to do for the day.  Focus on God.  He never gives us more than what we can bear.