m-sciolist

[m-sciolist]

The kind of son I aspire to be.

these are KILLING me

[m-sciolist]

Guys what is happening in the reblogs?! This is not love at all! He (Torvald) says this to his wife (Nora) after they learn that their mutual friend Dr. Rank, suffering of chronic syphilis, is about to die, stating that “it is best so” since Rank’s “sufferings and loneliness” were “a cloudy background to [their] sunlit happiness” (i.e. he was harshing the vibes). He immediately goes on to say “[he has] often wished that [Nora] might be threatened by some great danger, so that [he] might risk [his] life’s blood, and everything, for [her] sake.”

Torvald is the classic narcissist in this scene alone, not to mention his constant infantilization and objectification of Nora he propagates throughout the play. This is not to say, of course, that Nora is faultless. As the play centres on her plight, the audience gains an even deeper insight into her self-centred tendencies. She is not the desperate heroine that uses her “ravishing appeal” to bend men to her will out of necessity, but instead exemplifies her selfishness through her callous treatment of all other characters as merely fixtures and means to different ends. In fact, she seems to fail to realize that there exists a sense of “personhood” outside of her immediate self.

Ibsen was very clearly not creating the ideal Romantic couple here. That was kind of against the entire point of his Realism …

Anyway.

Henrik Ibsen, from Six Plays by Henrik Ibsen; "A Doll's House," written in 1879

[m-sciolist]

help a girl out

hey everyone! You see, I have to interview people for a 1000 word essay I have to write. The tough part? I'm socially awkward and don't want to embarrass myself interviewing real people who don't give a fuck about my topic. I would really appreciate responses. The more the better. It'd do me a huge favour. Answer as many questions as you like:

"The Relevance of Renaissance Literature Today"

1. Have you ever read any Renaissance literature?(e.g., Shakespeare, Petrarch, Marlowe)If yes, which one and what stood out to you?

2. Do you think Renaissance literature is still relevant in today’s world? Why or why not?

3. What themes from Renaissance writing (e.g., love, power, betrayal, destiny) do you see in modern media (books, movies, shows)?

4. Do you think writers like Shakespeare shaped how we write or tell stories today? How?

5. What is one quote or scene from a Renaissance work that you find powerful or memorable?(If they don’t remember one, they can skip.)

6. Do you feel Renaissance literature should still be taught in schools? Why or why not?

7. If you could ask a Renaissance author one question, what would it be?

8. Do you find the language used in Renaissance works (like Shakespearean English) hard or interesting?

9. Do you prefer modern interpretations (like movies or translations) of Renaissance plays/poems over the original texts? Why?

10. How do you think Renaissance writers would react to today’s world and culture?

[m-sciolist]

Babe we talked about this before pick a better time to enact major life decisions! I have not time for such a word. Thou shouldst have died hereafter ...

hey, does anyone know if tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day, or if it's like. a bank holiday.

[m-sciolist]

Shakespeare is so great at criticizing societal institutions of his time (many of which are still in place today). Some of his heroines (especially the comedic ones) directly play the role of the man in his plays, acting in direct opposition of the Elizabethan ideal of female passivity. Although I have not quite finished studying all of his plays, I have noticed that his tragic heroines tend to suffer more, and often die, at the hands of their male counterparts, very much in line with patriarchal norms, while the comedic heroines (often, interestingly, in the guise of a man) enjoy greater freedoms and wit. Even in the case of Beatrice in Much Ado, who does not don the male cap, she expresses a desire to have the freedoms of a man (her "Oh God! I wish I were a man!" monologue), and acts in more assertive, stereotypically mannish ways. It is through this that she receives her "happy ending" of being wed to Benedick. Of course, also interesting to note that as all (most?) comedies end in marriages, these independent heroines are relegated to the role of wife. This begs the question: what next? Do they continue to enjoy this boyish liberty and independence, or are they now governed by the rigid institutions of marriage (thus relegating their breach of gender norms to the position of pathway to tradition)?

TLDR: I totally agree! Definitely recommend exploring more of Shakespeare's work.

I’m realizing that Hamlet and R&J are actually really good critiques on rigid gender roles…

[m-sciolist]

Thinking (but not nearly enough)

The Garden of Death, c. 1896 - Hugo Simberg

Life has been strange, lately. I fell ill immediately after exams, then was swept up in all the worldly pleasures of the pomp and circumstance that comes with graduation. My final set of exams is fast approaching, but after this I will truly be liberated from the shackles of high school. What a strange feeling this is: existing in the limbo between free youth and adulthood.

In the interim I have read Twelfth Night and found myself much entertained. I do indeed feel that “I am a great eater of beef and it does harm to my wit" (TN 1.3.80-83). I am in the process of memorizing all the monologues available on this website as I read through all of the Shakespearean plays. The manner in which I will manage this, as with most things, is a spreadsheet. I will probably post an update once I have finalized the system.

Since I have been putting it off far too long, I am also planning to study all the characters in the HSK curriculum, with the ultimate goal of being able to read and write them all with ease. I am currently halfway through the first stage, and, as above, once the spreadsheet is finalized I will post some sort of status update.

Of course, I have not forgotten my other academic pursuits. I managed to make good headway into that proof-writing book, but I have set that on hold while I finish studying for these final exams. While I have covered the material what feels like dozens of times, there is unfortunately still a degree of brute memorization required to score full marks.

Feeling strange, but I am not terribly surprised at this. This feeling of absurdity seems to arrive with every season of change.

[m-sciolist]

Onwards …

The Spirit of War, c. 1851 - Jasper Francis Cropsey

Exam season is practically concluded, now. I only have one examination tomorrow, and I feel confident enough in the language to leave the matter to intuition.

I had planned to begin studying mathematical biology, but upon beginning to do so I find that my knowledge of formal mathematics is not nearly sufficient enough to warrant a true understanding of its contents. Thus, I have decided to work through Velleman's How To Prove It, then Linear Algebra by Jim Hefferon before setting foot into the realm of applied mathematics.

It is at moments like this that I must remind myself that I am not, technically, a student of mathematics. Rather, the field of study into which I am formally entering is biochemistry, then neuroscience, circumstances (and volition) permitting. As such, it seems negligent to let my studies of the hard sciences lay in abandon as I pursue this interesting diversion. With the goal of equilibrium in mind, I will be studying David Klein's organic chemistry and continue to explore contemporary academic literature in the fields of neuroscience/biochemistry.

[m-sciolist]

Stupidity

Stańczyk during a ball at the court of Queen Bona in the face of the loss of Smolensk, c. 1862 - Jan Matejko

This is a personal vice of mine. Too long have I succumbed to the languid lethargy of submitting to the algorithms that have been drip-feeding my brain with short-form slop. And here I am! A shell of my former self. I am ashamed to admit that my attention span is nowhere near where it used to be, and my memory and joints have atrophied in tandem.

On the topic of memory. In my early youth (I am not terribly old, but there is certainly a significant degree of separation from the past and present, so this term feels sufficient), I was an avid mnemonist. Speed calculations, committing strings of digits to numbers to memory, practicing card-counting with the intent of re-creating the infamous MIT student casino heist—these were all pastimes I engaged myself with.

It is with much sorrow that I have found that I lost most of these abilities, and that I am locked out of most of my old memory palaces. In fact, the meditative techniques I employed to construct and enter these fixtures have been greatly eroded by my tendency to flee from the very possibility of being alone with my thoughts.

So, restoring my metaphorical temple of memory to some semblance of its former glory seems like a suitable starting point for this venture away from intellectual idleness. Rote memory is still important, and functional in my case, but I don't think I'd ever feel whole without my old systems in place. Having forgotten all but the silhouette of my old "memory cottage", I think I will reconstruct a new grounds for mental cavorting, and populate it with some poetry. Shakespeare's soliloquys may be good candidates for this. I have already memorized (MND 5.414-529) and (Mac 5.5.16-27), so I have some starting material at the very least.

[m-sciolist]

Botchan - Natsume Soseki (Trans. Joel Cohn; 1906/2005)

Men Sleeping at the Train Station, c. 1910 - Asaga Tairin

A refreshingly light and charming novel that follows the exploits of Botchan, a mischievous boy that grapples with the question of morality in a rough-and-tumble fashion as he grows up, often simultaneously too quick to judge others and oblivious to his own faults. Still, there is something honest in his naivete, and our Edoko finds himself somewhat lost in the provincial town no "bigger than a cat's forehead" where he finds himself stationed as a middle school mathematics teacher.

"Of course I'm inexperienced. I'm only twenty-two years and four months old, just like it says on my papers."

"No matter how much mischief I was involved in, I still had my honor. If you're just going to lie your way out of the punishment afterward, well, you shouldn't have done anything to begin with."

Many of the criticisms of his colleagues and students are still relatable today, if not moreso. The trope of students that keep favourite teachers "under surveillance like a pack of detectives" is very much intact, as are those that namedrop "Russian novelist[s]" to virtue signal their intelligence. As to the latter, I admit that I picked up on this habit in my early youth. (Thinking on it now, it probably signaled the exact opposite of what I had intended. Alas, Dostoevsky & co. make up a good portion of my to-read list. Perhaps such figures will come up naturally in conversations from now on.)

"How was a math teacher like me supposed to know the difference between Gorky and Porky?"

I used to take translations for granted, as most translated books that fell into my hands were translated quite well, and I lacked sufficient knowledge of the original language and source material to know if the translation communicated the intent of the author. Through this book, the true variance of translated editions has been elucidated to me. After switching from Yasotaro Mori's translation (available through Project Gutenberg) to Joel Cohn's edition (published with Penguin Books), I found the prose to flow much more pleasantly, and certain cultural and historical artefacts elucidated upon in a manner more digestible to the foreigner. The former humbly included the following in his foreword, and as such I hold no ill will towards his translation, which may in fact be suitable to an audience more acquainted with Japan and its customs.

"[These remarks] are made in the hope that whoever is good enough to go through the present translation will remember, before he may venture to make criticisms, the kind and extent of difficulties besetting him in his attempts so as not to judge the merit of the original by this translation. Nothing would afford the translator a greater pain than any unfavorable comment on the original based upon this translation." - Yasotaro Mori

I have not read any other translations, but it may be interesting to observe the manner in which a third party tackles Soseki's original prose (which I have been told is unique in both a literary and graphical sense).

Overall, an enjoyable experience that succeeds in provoking both chuckles and contemplation. Strongly recommend!

"Unless things are set out for me in clear black and white, it's hard for a simple type like me to figure out which side to take."

"Not being able to eat some dumplings when you wanted to felt pathetic."

"Really, there's nothing in the world as undependable as human beings."

Rating: 4/5  ⃰ 

 ⃰ A note on my rating habits. This probably seems low, given the immense praise I have lauded this book with. Perhaps this is a result of my sparse media consumption thus far, but I find that I rarely dislike things. Thus, my ratings tend to be quite left-skewed. To rectify this, I reserve the highest rating category for works that are otherwise inexpressible and/or life-changing. For example, Siddhartha by Herman Hesse was a 5/5 for me.

[m-sciolist]

I repurposed a crochet cylinder as a darning egg. The sock is now darned to the egg. Now I know why we don’t use fabric darning eggs. We learn something new everyday!

Truly I hate to do this to you all but; you can watch all the videos and read all the blogs in the world but you cannot learn to sew without at some point picking up a piece of fabric and fucking it up. No tutorial exists that will stop you at some point ruining this poor piece of cloth. The visceral act of holding a project and wondering where you went wrong is the only way to learn sewing; you cannot escape it. I’m sorry

[m-sciolist]

The Attributes of the Sciences c .1731 - Jean-Baptiste-Simeon Chardin

Exam season is plodding on by, slowly but surely. It really is such a drag, this cycle of brute-forcing my way through past problems and regurgitating elementary proofs and figures onto each paper. A Sisyphean ordeal with which I am far from enamoured.

In exchange for ephemeral (and some less so) pleasures I had forsaken the long-term review schedule for this set of examinations. Most of the material is sparse enough to be covered in an evening or two, and whatever cannot be rectified in time is but a minor numerical price to pay. This curriculum is, after all, a numbers game. I feel confident that I should score in the highest mark band for the subjects I require, and exceed the standard for the rest. I have little qualms with this arrangement, but slogging through problem sets at seven in the morning I submit I feel some regret. Seven or so days until liberation.

I am left, for now, with little time for reading and study of my own designs. Once this stretch has concluded I hope to return to the first volume of Mathematical Biology by J.D. Murray. This evening, I began to read Botchan by Soseki Natsume. The titular Botchan permits himself to be carried away by his “hereditary recklessness” and is quick to pass judgement on those around him: existing in opposition to those collectivist values especially associated with Japan at the time. While by no means a moral paragon, his character makes for an entertaining one. I will properly write up my thoughts once I have finished it, probably by tomorrow or the day after.

[m-sciolist]

Après un cadavre un choeur de vermisseaux ...

Midas und Bacchus, c. 1624–1629 - Nicolas Poussin

Introductions are always a bit strange, aren't they? As are names, and intentions, and most things, really. These will all be sorted out in due time. Probably.

After some time as an observer, I have decided to step out of the shroud of spectatorship and establish a page of my own. Anonymous, to some extent. But if someone from the physical realm manages to find me on here, who am I to impede their prying glances? I must admit I am not a terribly interesting person, anyways.

I find myself in a peculiar set of circumstances: wrapped up in the contrived image of profundity but really just being a sparsely educated sophist. While my personal method of stringing words together in vaguely pleasant ways has managed to pull the wool over many an essay-grader's eyes, my near-absolute nescience gnaws more and more incessantly at my soul. In truth, I can no longer rely on the rations of just-niche-enough-to-be-impressive knowledge that have furnished my musings thus far.

As such, I have set myself upon the path of seeking knowledge—un-stupiding myself, if you will.

Join me, Internet cosmonaut, in this voyage through literature, music, science, philosophy, and whatever else I stumble across in my studies. If you stick around long enough, you might even get to see me form a thought! (Unlikely, but one can dream.)

The DMs are wide open. Don’t be shy. Tell me a story. Send me a picture of a bird. I'm sure we'll enjoy getting to know each other.