Ever since the Hover Chair, my life has turned around!

Do you ever feel like sometimes, as you go about your life, everything that happens to you starts to have this theme? And you wouldn't notice it unless you really payed attention?

For example, I realized a couple days ago that I would be turning twenty in two months. Twenty. That's half of forty. Meaning, all I have to do is live the exact amount of time that I've already lived all over again, and I will have a valid excuse to look at myself in the mirror and wonder where my life has gone. Where is it going? What does all of this mean, anyway? And holy hell do I have five o'clock shadow already? I hate shaving. That's a scary thought. Phewph. I made myself tense right there.

Shortly after this realization, we celebrated half of christmas a little bit earlier because my sister and brother-in-law were in. I was given a nicely-wrapped present from my sister Haley. It was a rice cooker. You know, the thing you cook rice in.

Don't get me wrong. I love the idea of a rice cooker, and of course I'll be using it in the future. I just never thought I would so quickly arrive to the point in my life where my Christmas presents suddenly consisted of home appliances. Where were the days where I could look forward to Legos and marbles and other boy things? Obviously long gone, especially when the next gift I open is two old-man ties.

What's funny is that I actually really like receiving rice cookers and old ties. It just strikes me as even funnier to admit that. I sound old. So very, very old.

I look down at my wardrobe right now. Tie. Button-down shirt. Khaki's. Calculator watch. It's not even Sunday.

I'm getting old.

I'm starting to think that I'll end up like one of those old guys you see in the commercials about the Hover chair. Have you seen those?

"I was having such a terrible time trying to get around my house in my wheel chair. I thought it was the end of the line for me. I thought I would have to go to a nursing home.....
But thank goodness I found the Hover Chair! Now I can hover around wherever I want and laugh with my grandchildren and try to play golf with my son-in-law. And don't they think of everything! Why, they have a pouch here on the side where I can keep all of my Home and Garden magazines, a glasses holder (I always loose those...) and a good ol' cup holder so that I can lug around with me my favorite beverage wherever I go! Gosh, Hover Chair, you're the bee's knees. Now I can stay old forever!"

I think I'll turn into one of those guys.

Not to make any of you old people feel bad about being old. I like you people; although, I'm altogether scared of your state. But I'm slowly and surely coming your way, whether I like it or not. We're all one and the same.

Getting old has a weird affect on Christmas. Some people say that Christmas looses its magic as you get older. I think that statement is a bit wrong. It assumes that Magic is something subjective--- that it's only real if someone believes that it's real. It's like saying "I"m getting old, so magic itself doesn't exist anymore." Whether I like it or not, the Deep Magic, will exist. (Insert a suggestion to read C.s. Lewis's Surprised By Joy here).
Don't get me wrong. I won't be waiting at my make-believe-Chimney for Santa to squeeze through and watch me sleep and give me presents, so that I could wake up and give him a big hug and ask him what the true meaning of Christmas is all about. No. But Magic is something that is so woven into this reality that it would be preposterous to say it doesn't exist. I know I'm being vague. I'm tired. And Old.

With age, the magic doesn't leave. But Understanding and Discernment arrives, so that we can tell the wonderful Fiction from the wonderful Facts.

I'll stop. Goodnight, and merry Christmas.

Risky

Conquer the world through Australia! The Aborigines shall prosper.

Good Day

Making this: 

With THIS Woman:

While Listening to This:

Turns out to be an irrefutably good day.

What Good Is A Whale?

I was sick.

I was very, very sick.

During finals week-- the very worst time, and most expected time in the Middleton family, to be sick.

So there I was, sick, shriveled in front of a lap top computer at two o'clock in the morning, intoxicated with about a quarter of a bottle of Nyquill (I didn't have any spoons, so I thought I'd take three swigs and call it good. I was unaware of the fact you could be influenced in any way possible by Nyquill. I was so wrong. So very, very wrong.)

You can imagine what a half a bottle of Nyquill and the inability to breath through your nose can do to a man's thought process when he has to write five pages on the nature of beauty. The assignment was to find something you thought was beautiful and write a paper defending its beauty and the nature of the beauty. I chose whales. I like whales. Whales are pretty.

It's impossible to write five pages about whales--- especially when you're sick and intoxicated.

As I wrote, I was convicted that my work was golden. I had mental images of my professor confronting me personally: "This is the best paper ever written. Would you mind if I submitted it to the United States President for him to read it aloud for his next speech?" "Sure," I would tell him.... "Sure..."

Looking at it now, I can't stop laughing. This is hilarious. I thought I would share:

Isaac Middleton

Professor Seidler

The Good And The Beautiful

December 16, 2011

What Good is a Whale?

Consider in the recesses of your mind the great Whale in all its glory, wandering the deep places of the world, a great mass inside the great void called the Sea. This mammal, being the largest living thing on the face of the earth, spanning up to 150 feet, with a weight of over 134 tons, is the victim of a war. This war is a debate over a simple issue: the beauty and the glory of this great mammal that must be preserved, versus the practical use of its meat and skin and the sport that it creates while being hunted. This war has cost whales across the globe their lives, so much to the extent that they are now endangered of extinction.  

The cause of this war is due to a misunderstanding: one group of people have asked the question: “What good is a whale?” and have come up with the answer “A whale is good because it is beautiful.” Yes, I understand that it is possible for an object to be beautiful without being good, and one must be careful in assuming the goodness of an object based on its beauty, as stated on page two of Beauty. However, this does not discredit the possibility that an object can be both good and beautiful, as might be the case for the whale. For this reason, I will go into reasons why the whale is beautiful, and thus, why the whale is good.

First, the whale is beautiful because it is alive. Obviously, this is not a water-tight argument, because very unattractive things are alive as well. Hitler drew breath, just as much as Jesus Christ did. The wretched beggar on the street is just as much alive as Zoe Deschanel. Both ugly and beautiful things are alive. However, with that idea set aside, when one considers the phenomena that is life itself, where order is created out of chaos, where thought process occurs and movement is a consequence, one must conclude that life itself is a beautiful phenomena. Life, being an irrefutable characteristic of a whale, goes to the credit of this animal.

The second aspect that makes a whale beautiful is the size of such a mammal. If, in your spare time you happen to find yourself on youtube, I suggest watching this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVtw94PJ8XA. When one looks at the enormity of a whale, one does not simply think; “Wow, that’s really big.” Instead, the greatness of this mammal evokes a certain mystery about it. The size of a whale creates a wonder in the human heart for the possibilities and potential that life itself contains. How big can a living thing really get? How old is it? The question that comes to my mind upon seeing such a whale is “I wonder what it thinks about itself?” The size of such a living thing has the effect of shrouding itself in a cloak of ageless mystery. This creates a certain longing in the human heart to, in a way, know something that one is fully aware that one simply cannot know. This sense of longing, of hopelessly wishing to know something that is unknowable, is the same emotion evoked by the mythological gods of the Greeks-- this love for the unattainable. In some weird way, it is satisfying. It is beautiful.

Another effect of a whale’s size is that it forces the human observer to turn one’s own eyes upon oneself. The vast hugeness of one thing causes the other to consider its own vast puniness. To examine our own small lives, the daily hubbub with which we busy ourselves, completely unmindful that such grand things as whales are timelessly wandering the deeps of the world, and to suddenly see such a magnificent thing before our eyes, is humbling. And humility, in a way, is peaceful-- beautiful. 

Perhaps I am committing the old philosophical flaw of defining the beauty of an object based on the emotions that the object evokes in the observer, rather than the features of the object itself. However, in this specific instance, the emotions of humility, peace, and awe evoked by such an object are themselves beautiful. I’m sure there is a contradiction to this rule, but in this case, for an object to evoke such beautiful emotions, it would be impossible for such an object to not be beautiful in and of itself. For how could an ugly object evoke beautiful emotions? Again, perhaps I am begging the question, and there might be an occasion when Ugly can evoke Beautiful emotions. 

The question has been raised on whether the fact that the whale is becoming extinct has any affect on people’s perception on whether a whale is beautiful or not. Does scarcity of a certain object affect the way people perceive an object? In other words, if whales were common, if every time someone went out into the ocean and they saw a whale, would whales be considered as beautiful as they are when they are in danger of becoming extinct? I think the answer lies in another question: does an object contain beauty in and of itself, as a universal standard, or do people attribute beauty to a certain object as they see fit. 

This point of this paper has become its breaking point because I have no idea where to continue. I figured I would be honest and come right out and say this. I’m deeply bothered-- bothered by the fact that I can’t defend in any way possible the idea that Beauty is an independent aspect of reality that exists outside of the minds of men. I want it so greatly to be that-- something outside of my control. And whether I exist or not, whether I have opinions or not, would never change the fact that beauty is what it is, whether I like it or not. I can’t explain why I want it to be this way. I feel like if beauty was independent of people’s ideas, if it just existed independently, then it would give the world some sort of greater purpose. And I don’t even know what that purpose would be. Maybe it would give me something to interact with. If beauty was something outside of myself, if it was something that I didn’t shape or control, then it would give me purpose to interact with the outside world, to get to know this beauty and try to understand what it is.

But everything points to the opposite. It seems so obvious that it is society that shapes the ideas of what is beautiful and what is ugly. Beauty is not independent of man’s thought, but a product of it. Without the minds of men, beauty would not exist. It is just an idea created by man, thus an aspect of reality that is in our control. Thus we control what is beautiful and what is not. We are god. If we deem child pornography as beautiful, and if we make our number one purpose in life to enjoy beauty, then nothing would stop us. Anything is beautiful as long as we say it is. There is no greater, overarching factor that decides what is good and bad, beautiful or ugly. There is only us with a remote control, manipulating and deciding upon values. This idea is cold and uncomfortable and gives me a feeling of hatred, almost. But I cannot refute it.

Why is a whale beautiful? I don’t know. I’m a college student with textbooks feeding me answers. I can’t tell you why a whale is beautiful, let alone whether or not I have a soul. I want there to be a reason outside of my own control that tells me why I want to think a whale is beautiful. The only solution that I think might solve this problem is the idea of there existing, outside of anyone’s control, some sort of entity. Not God, or god, or Allah, or Santa, or anything. Simply a deciding factor that determined beauty and goodness. Perhaps it created the world. Perhaps it is the world. Hopefully it exists, and is somehow a part of all of us, giving us an idea of what is beautiful and what is good and what is bad and ugly. I feel like this could be the only logical solution. If such a thing existed, I would be given peace.  I would know that there is a life outside of myself that I can interact with, that there’s a Beauty outside, penetrating various aspects of life that are only waiting to be discovered and appreciated by me. I would be given purpose.

If beauty is in my control, there is no purpose for my existence. If it is outside of my control, I would make a point to value my life and every other part of reality.