How lucky are we

To live in MA. She said sarcastically.

So I was reading in the paper the other day (Globe, Herald? I forget) that our state senate had passed through by an un-vetoable margin the bill to not only allow embryonic stem cell research from unwanted in vitro fertilization children, but also to allow human cloning, with the proviso that the scientists should "not make human babies." Read between the legalese: the scientists must kill any clones they make; they may not by law allow any clone they make to live.

What a f---ed up society we live in. And yes, that word is appropriate. Hurray for MA. (We screw all night and kill each day?)

*sigh*

No, that's particularly nasty. Look, the battle isn't over. This is one of the main fronts, is all. But thank God for time - time for a million visions and revisions. So, do I want to move? No, not particularly, not yet. "Just keep swimmin. Just keep swimmin!" And remembering good things.

Classes went really well today, thank God! I realized just a few minutes ago that this past week has felt like walking on water with Him re: classes. I'm about to start "Up Down" from King of Fools. There's a new Lost on tonight! I've got this really cool CD by this Quebequais (sp?) artist who plays the cello and sings smokey-clear. We have no meat in the house, but we gots plenty water and ice. I have so much - so much more than so many have, even though I'm "dirt poor" in America. I finished progress reports way in advance of the due date. Good stuff, good stuff.

Our Lady of Guadeloupe, we need your intercession for your country! Please, please pray for us! Please ask your Son to spare us! O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary, pray for us, O most holy mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ! Amen!

Mood: Throat feeling weirdish. I'm post-nap, though. Always weirdish.
Music: That cellist lady
Thought: Naps are good but they do leave on a bit disorientated about where/when one is. (Also, one wonders if the dream of a few days back was in any way related to the e-mail Mom got in about that commission....) Anywho...on to "Up Down"!

Please return your seats

To their full, upright position. (Now there's a 1984-ism, if ever there was one!)

I have not yet adjusted to the school schedule and my body will not go to sleep easily at a decent hour. Pick a bizarre hour, morning or really early morning or just after supper, and it's all good to nod off into slumberland - but the acceptable hour? Apparently not.

Fortunately, Dad's computer just finished printing out tomorrow's hand-outs and the laptop just finished making the file of "Everyone Arrives" for KOF. Which I will now go watch. And then go to sleep. Yup.

Mood: Ich habe eine haddock.
Music: Look into the mirror and see....
Arugh is: Only having one night where that particular bit was actually on, and not either a) muted miked or b) the wrong lyrics. Ah ca. Good close-up.
Pomf is: Bellechat!

Of Ontological Proofs and Onion Rings

Or, OK, just ontological proofs.

So, I'm browsing around for additional commentary on Anselm's proof of God, poking my head about the Summa, cracking my knuckles over the Descartes (IIIIIIIIIIIIImmanual Kant was a real ---- ant, who was very rarely sober! Yay for The Philosopher's Drinking Song! Oh, for singing loudly at the Munich trainstation! Right, back to the long neglected sentence) - and I realize that I've never really seen Anselm's "proof of God" to be necessarily a proof so much as a definition. The objections which St. Thomas and others have raised make sense to me - although pinning it down more as a definition and less of a proof I hope in no way takes away from its elegance.

Which makes one wonder if the whole idea of an ontological proof isn't something of an oxymoron - or at least an outright contradiction. Part of the difficulty appears to be in regards to what ontology is - some seem to define it as focussing more on the relationships of things, while other definitions appears to broaden (or return to the original?) definition of ontology as that branch of metaphysics which determines what is. Of course, one may determine what something is by its relationship to other things but....

OK, my thinking is getting ahead of anything else, and the question strikes me: can we definitively PROVE that *anything* exists? I'm not trying to deny existance - the Endarkenment has already gone down that route plenty and have subsequently been driven mad - but rather, I question whether we're treating existance too much as a material thing which is provable rather than as a meld of spiritual and material which is therefore somewhat outside the realm of "mere" material proofs?

How sad is this? Here is fodder for a great essay - and yet I'm going to let it flounder because I have too much pressing work to do. But, couldn't that in itself be an answer to all these philosophical and metaphysical questions about proving existance? It's not enough to think about being - rather we'd all be benefitted by first doing our job of being. Little wonder, again, that God's name is I AM! :)

Funny old world, iddn't it.

Mood: Tuna
Music: Flannel Collage, "I'd Stop the World"
Observation: I stuck on that CD because I needed to mellow...and then had to chuckle as I recalled some of my students pointing out to me that I put on this CD to mellow. Now there's an ontological proof in action!

Oh look! A tree!

I forgot the "Quintet" - hah! And now I remember and only lament that my five part singing isn't up to what it used to be. Hah hah hah! I hug my metaphorical tree! Alas, said arbor appears to be in the middle of the Amazon, what with the weather. Ah ca. In also also wik good news, I figured out the reverasal (act break) for Wallace's Will, which means that I have an idea of how Act I and II happen! Hurrah! But now, I will download onto my handy-dandy new memory (that still sounds so funny - one wonders if engineers didn't come up with that just to make us sound like idiots - which we are) the remainder of Act I of KOF. HA! (Which means, in the nonce, I'll do all the household chores that I've neglected during this holiday. Oh, laundry! I heed thy call! [A knight of the laundry round must be unrinsable? C'est moi!])

Mood: Don Juan Triumphant! Uber alles! (Ja ja ja ja.... Taffeta, darling.)
Justification: Yes, that is a mood.
Music: Buffy Musical again.
Balm for the Savaged Soul: singing. Siiiiiiiiiiiigh.
Thought re: Above: If music tames the savage beasts, can the savage beast sing?

Regard me, I expire

(Actually, I think I used that already. Hrm.)

I am at one hour and one minute and some odd seconds. Fred has just said, "And I am exceedingly clever" and stormed off. Lucy Herding is up next - on tomorrow's agenda. And my eyes are going crossed (seeing trees sans the forest). It's odd when one knows every single expression from five different angles over three different nights. Where are my reaction shots?

Had a thought re: post-wedding/honeymoon pre: second Brosche/Fred to cover scene change. What do you call it when only a month and a bit after a show one's already starting to rerevise it? "Special." (Forest for trees...forest for trees!)

Anywho. Good lessons today. More tomorrow. Return on Monday - how terribly odd and how surprisingly wonderful. Trip went well - thank God. Aunt Clarisse was very ill and paper-thin - distressing to see, although she still played the hostess! Read to her Sunday's gospel (although she fell asleep during it). I should amend, tried not to weep whilst reading Sunday's gospel to her - it was "in My Father's house are many rooms...I have prepared a place for you." Wuh.

Met a Sister Sylvia who has worked for several years with the AIDS patients in eastern African countries - fascinating woman. A convert from the Baptist church at the age of eleven! She said that the main reason for the spread of AIDS over there is that the culture is still dominated by voodoo and witchcraft - so if a man feels that he's unclean somehow (sin, illness, who knows), they believe that only having sex with a virgin will make him clean - so there's a LOT of rape, incest, etc. It's a cultural thing - ugh. It's something that our culture of death can't cure - but embracing the teachings of the Church would. It makes more sense, now, why the Catholic African countries have dramatically lower AIDS rates than non. Apparently, too, many of the children get AIDS from bad blood transfusions - nicht so gut. Dear God, bless them and Sr. Sylvia!

Went for a longish rambling drive around the backroads this evening with Jules. Discussed her impending road trip and - what else - theatre and sang some songs and enjoyed the wandering roads and hidden countryside of our little corner of MA. Am about to go to sleep (oh the shock!) at - for me, this week - a reasonable hour.

It's odd - I can see that I accomplished a lot this week, but I still feel as though there's some great lumbering, lingering thing hanging over me that I'm completely failing to see. God, what is it? Or is it a mere chimaera? The residual sensation of a long-lost limb. Not the elephant in the room, but the sudden pachydermal loss?

Anywho - I digress. (From what, one wonders? Well, if Herodotus can digress from a digression of a digression from a digression and call it seminal history, so can I. However, I should not overlook the possibility that a toga and a bath might lend me more credence.)

Off to sleep. There are no more miles to go, tonight. And I must find those woods between the trees - they say they're lovely, dark and deep - but I keep running into brambles!

Mood: Much desirious of two hours in a tub
Music: None at the moment.
Goodness is: Sean Forrest's "Father's Song" - It's all right.

Regarde cettes links

Pope Benedict XVI - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Fairly good article - of course it ends on all the "controversies" - but honestly, folks, look at your history. The position of the Church of God has never changed - why does anything it ever will? Even Socrates, Plato and Aristotle firmly believed that God, by His very nature and therefore by definition, does not change - so, His Church's teachings about Himself and what He desires will not, either. Our understanding of Him may increase, but that's just, as Chesterton, "the dog becom[ing] doggier."

Reflections on the Papal Progress - delightful blurb on Jimmy Akin's site from Michelle Arnold about a "newbie" convert regarding the events of these past weeks. :)

In other news: long HH chats are muchly needed; I'm up to the honeymoon scene in King of Fools; it's my parents' 31st today!; and I've a new 200GB external memory drive! Hoopla! Prayers for tomorrow are muchly needed - long drive down and back to Maryknoll. Prayers needed so that Grumpy Emily makes no appearance, whatsoever (we're leaving by 8 a.m.). Went for a walk with Pete tonight, at his insistance and thank God for his insistance! Utterly beautiful night - gorgeous - reminded me of the Cotswalds (sp?) in England - oh to be there tonight! Mazes and primroses and cravats and spensers were much needed! Lovely evening. Half-way through vacation already - how odd. Purchased roast whole chicken and stuff for ice cream sundaes for Mom and Dad's party.

Am obviously in sort of dreamy lacksidasical mode - James Joyce rears his literary head once more. Very watery night - like viewing life from beneath a sun-warmed stream. One could breathe bubbles. Oh, to be a Hydoema right now! To join Deirdre on the dolphin's back! (To meet Reid. ;) Or to be near the Palais Juste, to stroll those gardens and see the grand paintings on the ceiling of the Feststaahl. I should like to be in Lumaison. And wouldn't it be loverly, as I've thought before, to be granted the ability to see the places of one's imagination? It's not enough to think of them - that's where Aristotle went wrong, supposing God to be contented with thought. One must be there. It's like what - oh, what is her name? - well, what was written about being in Austria - asked about how it was, all one can reply was "It was good." There are no words to fully encompass every moment of living - and so we have to settle for, "It was good." Oh, I am George Emerson right now! Find me a tree to yell out, "Life! Beauty! Truth!" (before toppling out into a field of bluebells, true). Frolicking through a meadow seems particularly appealing. Or running through the surf beneath a cerulean sky. This is a night of beauty - beauty - beauty! And the world will look cockeyed at me now, and wonder what ailment I have to be so in love with life. But this is just a taste of life - just a taste - and there's so much more on the other side - and I can only hope I make it. Oh Lord, bring me home, bring me home, bring me home! I want loveliness in everything - Lord please instill loveliness in me. Amen.

Mood: What a redundant tag!
Music: Frou-frou
Thought: Geesh, I've been ending so many of these posts as prayers. A good thing, yes.
Thought Redux: My many pardons, my darling sisters, for the public nature of this blog. However, one can safely say that there's nothing more for me to add here or elsewhere, tonight! :D

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!

It's Ratzinger! I mean, Pope Benedict XVI!

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!

Mood: Gaudete!
Music: "Un bel di" a la The Opera Babes
Thought: YES! Kick some doctrinal rear!
Thought Redux: Ugh. These secular commentators.

OK, can it get

Too much cooler than this?!?!?!??!

WE HAVE A POPE!!!

Granted, we are (at the moment of this typage) still waiting to find out who, but I was choking up as I watched the bells go at long last (or at short last - phew! Quick conclave!). We have a pope! We have a pope! And one of the most wonderful things - a word which in this case means causing wonderment in your humble servant - is that a) the bells started ringing around 6 PM, the third hour for the Angelus, which made it b) 12 PM, the second hour for the Angelus, here, and just five minutes after I'd finished my rosary. This in itself is remarkable because it takes me a lot to say a rosary - sad, I know. But I've been under a rather violent, terrible attack the past thirty-six hours or so, and so I determined to pick up the best spiritual weapon this morning (thanks to the grace of God), and prayed a really, really good rosary. Praise God! Thank You! Alleluia!

Le sigh. And now we wait for the announcement. So in the nonce, I'll continue with my own job - I'm about to begin "If E'er a Maid" - worked on "Who is the Lord" until 3 AM yesterday/today. Curious that that five-minute scene took so very long to piece together, although some other scenes take almost no time at all. Ah ca. It's good though. Praise God!

Oh, tra la! To be there, right now. How magnificent would that be? Lord, bless our new Holy Father! Safeguard Your church! Amen!

Mood: Exuberent
Music: Opera Babes "Beyond Imagination"
Thought: Lord, Thy will. Amen.

Oh, sweet randominity of life

...at last I've found yooooooooou!

Went to a Sean Forrest thingy today - very good, very peaceful. Concluded with a wonderful Steubie-like mass that was also extremely worshipful and...yes, serene. Praise God. A much needed retreat - all His doing, too!

Then took Jules to Outback for dinner (slash-lunch). Am now muchly sated. Hurrah for Bloomin' Onions and cherries in one's Diet Coke!

Have just spent some time looking up the original story of "The Nutcracker" and am...hrm...yes, "hrm-y." Hoffman was a weirdo and the original tale is no better than the Dumas/Tchaikovsky version, it seems. So, it's due for a re-do. Yet....

Where have all the good plays gone? Long time passing! Tchah.

I keep thinking I have school tomorrow. Yet, I don't. Wow.

Just finished the Wedding Scene from King of Fools (editing). Yet am strangely laconic. Hrumph.

Perhaps I'll call it an early night and reread Going Postal and go to bed at a decent time and get up in time for 9 a.m. mass and then actually do something with my day. Tues. am going to visit Aunt Clarisse with Mom (104 - holy cow! - Aunt Clarisse, not Mom). Then the remainder of the week is free - to edit, to grade, to take long walks (to get up the energy to do so - silly fool, out of practice!).

Lord, d'you mind pointing me in the right direction of next year's play? But more than anything, thank You for today. You were right - I needed this.

Mood: More or less serene
Music: The mental Bollywood final track from Vanity Fair
Thought: The more I study the classic philosophers' thoughts on the nature of God, and then look at God incarnate as Jesus, the more I boggle at God.
Quelle heur est-il? My watch has stopped. Huh.
Et seulement pour l'amusement: Yeah!


You are a Folkie. Good for you.


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Ah, I think I've figured it out

I've been circling the issue, the problem, the central quandary and wondering why it felt like a really bad break-up or something (more than a failed test, or a 1984 forced untruth [2+2=5?!?!?])...and then it struck me:

This sorrow and frustration stems from the fact that the one person (or people) to whom good opinion matter...just don't like you.

And there's no good reason for it (in fact, there's every good reason against it)...

And there's nothing to be done.

So. Yup. Mark this as a milestone: I turned down my first role. He promises me something better, and I don't see it now and I have difficulty believing that it is He speaking and not just my fancy, but the weight of history and the unmerited grace of faith step in and I throw up my hands and say, "I really hope so." I know there's this whole storing up riches in Heaven thing, but y'know...some days you'd just really like a little pat on the back down here, too. As St. Catherine said, "If this is how You treat Your friends, no wonder You have so few!" Hrumph.

And yes, that hrumph clears up a lot - and someday soon I'll laugh that I was rejected because I was too good. After all, it happened to some One far greater than I.

Right. Praise God and Stay in Line.

Mood: Still a bit tetchy
Music: The Frou-Frou CD. Oddish but good but oddish.
Beauty is: "The Two Crowns" by Sir Frank Dicksee. Regard below.

The world conspires

To shape these past two days
Into a single hymn
To mediocrity.

Frustrated - offended - disgusted - greatness passed o'er in favor of plodding mundanity - giddyness for politics - taste for mindless groundling. Self-destructive oreos are our friends as rose-colored oblivion imbibed seems worse than a lingering chocolate death.

We shall see, we shall learn, as of tomorrow. (And we remember why we have been so long from the poor player who struts and frets his hour across the stage, and then is heard no more.... It's a wonder they don't all go mad. [Enough, it hath driven me mad! Hamlet for the ages.])

Mood: Regarde en haute
Music: Opera Babes, graciously lent me by my Father, who celebrated a bonne anniversaire, Vendredi.
Thought: Lord, I need Your Heart.

Wish me luck

Or rather, don't - may there much breakage of legs! I'm off to audition for The Matchmaker! Hoopla - and whoa.

Mood: Ah, the...erm...eruditeness of me.
Music: "Think of Me" from the most recent Phantom
Joy is: Being nearly completed with the "Insult Rag"!
Curiosity is: Attempting to figure out what to do with myself in the between-time of waiting for said audition. Sigh. The cosmos twiddles star-shot thumbs.

Simeon Says

The last two days of class, we've taken a look at Simeon's prophecy that Christ would be a "sign of contradiction" - that suffering is necessary for salvation, that our God humbled Himself in His incarnation, that to conquer sin, He who was sinless took on all sin, that death was defeated by the death of He who is Life and through that death, eternal life is offered.

I had looked at the verse mostly in the light of Terry Schiavo and the nature of redemptive suffering - but this morning, I am considering that verse in the light - not of the Holy Father's passing, but of the secular view of his passing. The Holy Father, the Church, the Cross, our God - are all in one combined, and all a sign of contradiction.

The secular media can only see John Paul II as a great historical figure - but when asked why, they flounder about with such words as, "He was modern; he was charismatic; but he never followed through on his promises to continue Vatican II." Essentially, we love him, we're drawn to him - but we don't understand him, because we don't understand Him.

What they were drawn to in John Paul II was Christ - but Christ is never convenient. We think that liberty equals libertine and then grow adolescent sulkish when our Father slaps us upside the head. We want modernism, we want the elusive will-o-wisp "progress" but have no idea where we're progressing to - then grow, again, adolescent sulkish when our Father guides us on the right path (aka, away from the gingerbread house).

Was John Paul II one of the greatest historical figures of this century? Yes, certainly. Was he charismatic, did he burst open the Church and remind her that she is truly Catholic (universal) - absolutely. Did he have a sense of humor, did he apologize for the sins of the people of the Church over the past two millenia - yup. But why? Because he was the vicar of Christ, because he united himself to Christ, so that if we loved John Paul II, it was because he so subsumed himself to Christ that we could love Him better and know Him better.

A good steward acts on behalf of the King and acts as mediator between the King and the people - John Paul II was a good steward. And a suffering steward. Because if you embrace the cross, you're bound to get a few splinters. I remember when I saw him from a very great distance in 1997 when I was in Rome with FUS-Austria, on a Wednesday audience (alas, within rather than in the square). All I could think, as I saw him progress painfully to his seat, was that I wished I could take on all his pains of body, mind and soul, and ease his burden for a time. But that I couldn't - nor should he have wished that for me. But I can pray for him, and pray for his soul, and for his intentions and thereby do some good in bearing his cross, and therefore the cross of Christ, and therefore the cross that Christ has given me.

Simeon prophesied that Christ would be a sign of contradiction; Simon the Cyrene helped Christ bear the cross; and the lineage of Simon Peter continues in a succession that the Holy Spirit Himself protects.

Lord, let this be a time of grace for our world. Praise You for once again defeating the culture of death, with death which is birth into true life. Lord, take the blindness from our eyes, the deafness from our ears, the darkness from our minds and the hardness from our hearts - and make our hearts anew, afire with love for You and You alone.

Mood: Bon, merci
Music: Oh, what is this? "Past the Point of No Return" from the original cast recording of Phantom of the Opera. Silliness.
Shallowness is: I am a blond now. Good grief.
Goodness is: DIVINE MERCY SUNDAY!!! YEEEEEEEE-HAW!