Tightrope Treading: An Existenial Crisis

Thousands of feet above the bottom of the Grand Canyon, I think, I need to stop drinking so much milk.

A week ago I notice that I have a tough, little bump inside my ear lobe. I run my fingers over it, pinch it until it throbbed. It aches like a pimple, but the inside is hard, like a little pebble or the coagulated phlegm chunks you get in your tonsils you get when you have a cold. I start wondering if its brain a tumor or a insect egg or something. I poke a thumb tack into it and it bleeds and the point comes out white and dusty. I squeeze and squeeze, yanking my ear lobe back and forth, half amused and half aggravated by the fact no matter how hard I try, my ear and my eyes cannot use the bathroom mirror at the same time. I finally I run my fingernail over the hole and hook out a minute calcium cyst spattered in oily ear blood.

I glance at my feet and the canyon is neatly bisected by the taut wire I'm balancing on. Yes, too much milk in my diet. I traipse along, a few more feet, wobbling for effect and stop for another rest. Your legs get tired from the tension of constant muscle readjustment after a few minutes. I'll sit down to rest them in a few hundred more feet.

I drink six gallons of two percent milk a week. I have a glass at break fast, with milk and cereal, two glasses at lunch, another before dinner, two during the meal, and another couple before bed. And I always take my coffee with cream.

I fell out of tree once when I was a kid. I was trying to build a pulley system for a tree fort that never got built. Thirty feet up. A neighbor said it looked like I just walked right out of the maple. Tumbled down and landed right on my arm. Didn't break a thing, but bruised the hell out of my hand. Milk: it does the body good.

In college, people told me that I should major in something reasonable like business or biology instead of throw my life away studying art history and philosophy. They sneered, "What are you gonna do with a BA in philosophy?"

I'm going the change the world, I always replied.

If my toes loose grip, I will plummet approximately five thousand, seven hundred feet at speed of 9.8 meters per second per second into the bottom of the Colorado River where I will die upon impact, likely caused by my hips being hurtled through my ribcage, into my skull. Apparently I will reach terminal velocity with plenty of time to contemplate why choosing to tightrope across the Grand Canyon was a poor decision. I glance down once more, smile bemusedly at death, and step a few feet more.

I didn't really plan to do this. I planned to go to grad school, save kids in AIDS villages in Africa, and convince people that Plato was right and start a revolution for Philosopher Kings. I planned to get married, make millions, die of old age. I planned to curl more than twenty pounds, to eat healthier, run a mile in less than five minutes. I planned to write a book and film a documentary and film a documentary about writing a book and write a book about filming a documentary and even film a documentary about filming documentaries. I really was going to do all those things. Then I realized that all of that could wait. I woke up on Monday, a week before the last set of finals in my undergraduate career, and decided I would tightrope the Grand Canyon.

What am I going to do with a BA in Philosophy? I'm going to balance across a pencil thin wire over the pit carved by a river five miles wide and a mile deep and I'm going to change the world.

Organic Learning

This last quarter was a quarter from hell. The classes were without a doubt the hardest classes I've ever taken, attested to by the 56 pages I wrote and some couple thousand read,(including Beowulf, poetry by John Donne, Kierkegaard, more philosophy of Mind than I care to admit, and the most challenging book I've read, ever).

I tried very hard to stay on top of my game this quarter and in many ways I succeeded and in some very important ways I failed. While I never truly felt like I was falling behind in classes, I let the stress of school interfere with my living. I spent hours of time isolated in my room, working on homework but often distractedly. My focus was intense for short bursts of time, but exhausting and disenchanting in the long run. This way of learning, which I saw emulated around me by my fellow students, is rigid, stoic, and dry.

I won't be doing things that way again. I know that I am heading into a quarter filled with philosophy papers and my first sociology class ever. It seems "natural" to expect me to follow through with a similar style of learning and studying as last quarter, but I just can't seem to bring myself to go through with that again. I have determined that I want to spend less time outside of class studying, and more time doing the things that I love. I have a 4 ideas which I will try to put to use for the sake my sanity and a more organic way of learning.

1) I am not really a kinesthetic learner when it comes to books, the basics of musical instruments, or thoughts. I learn best when listening and seeing. Only when I'm fairly sure of my thoughts and the ideas being conveyed do I tend to take notes or practice more. This would be considered a failure to some, but really I just don't need it. So, for the first two weeks of class, I won't be taking notes in class. I will be focused upon the lecture and intent upon the readings, my mind fully engaged versus trying to absorb as much information as possible. I have no intention of being terribly strict on this particular note. If I feel that taking notes in one of my classes will have improve my learning in class, thus limiting the work I need to do outside of class, then my long term goal will be successful. If after two weeks of this method, I feel that I am not learning as much, I will return to my normal note-taking strategy.

2) In relation to 1, I will be purchasing an audio recorder for recording class sessions. These audio files can be used for review while exercising, playing video games, or any such activity where I need not be listening attentively. These are not intended to replace class room learning, but supplement it.

3) Study-Rest method. One of the main problems of my current studying method is that I try to spend long hours studying huge amounts of information. My focus wanes and I either end up dragging myself through, often taking much longer than I need to, or procrastinating on my homework. This is ineffective and a waste of time that I could be spending doing things I love. This next quarter I will break up my homework into 20 minute to 30 minute sections, followed by short periods (5 to 10 minutes) of napping, walking, exercising, or socializing, or any other such restful and enjoyable activity. Not only will this boost my retention rate, but also, I believe, increase my enjoyment of living and allow me to focus more intently on the time I am spending on homework.

4) The final change I will be making is studying outside of my room. I spent much of this last quarter holed up in my room, trying to get homework finished but wanting to be out and socializing instead of isolated. This led to either slipshod studying or boredom. I am capable of studying in groups and tend to get much more accomplished over a shorter period of time. I like breaking up studying with short conversations and blips of craziness, (see 3), and I feel this will again improve my enjoyment of living.

Bonus! 5) I am currently trying to determine when I learn and study best. If I, say, discover that I am most effective early in the morning, I may break up my sleeping into two large chunks, so I can be more efficient with my time.

These are just a few ideas which are floating around. My goal is to find an organic way of learning, a way that suits my learning style best. I want to play to my strengths and minimize my weaknesses, but most importantly, have time that is spent doing more of the things I love and enjoy. If you have any thoughts or would like to share some of your own techniques, please leave a comment.

Sonnets Sung to Silent Specters

The wonder of the stage filled me. I stood calm before the audience of fallen leaves, December wind, and empty night air. The lights overhead cast me in partial shadow and I waited until the were ready before I spoke.

My monologue was honest and open, not one filled with sorrow but redulant with determination. I whispered softly the wearying struggles and shouted the triumphs. I scorned the ice dragon of winter for leaving autumns leaves like hair on the heads of the surrounding trees. I spoke to Katherine and wryly smiled at her, reminding her that she is not my girl and I am no longer a boy.

How wonderful it felt to feel my feet pressed against that wooden stage! I've missed you, dear. It's been far too long. Thank you for the brief tryst together tonight. I will whisper sweet sadness and bellow bright, boistrous ballads to you soon.