Warning: This post is a report on my life. I don't do this very often, but if you nevertheless cannot stand the occasional inside reference, then go to sleep. Now.
On the summer internship front, I have unofficially failed to get into IRIS, and probably will not make NIH or the Geophysical Laboratory. Reluctantly playing the connections game has led me to another set of internship opportunities, which appear freakishly difficult to secure. However, I am encouraged by the fact that I have something to do next year: Professor Harman said that I can help out with CHEM 1810! (Insert hysterical outburst about the SIS here.) All that remains to be seen is if I will become a true TA...
After I gave up on my chemistry lab report discussion at around 0400 last Thursday night, I ran a YouTube search for "liberty". I came up with, among other things, the Philosophy of Liberty. It explains the concepts of self-ownership, the social contract, and the libertarian society, and is very elegantly written. Also, the animation is set to trippy music, which is stuck in my head due to Évariste playing it all weekend. It sounds like flying, and as Évariste commented, "progress".
I am attending the "Veritas" forum tomorrow (it is not Monday until I wake up!) and Tuesday in the capacity of an investigative reporter, where some famous deluded Christian will talk about the human condition and truth and other such things that religion is unfit to touch. Évariste and I saw a chalked ad that read: "Is there a person behind your performance? Veritas..." He said that he wished he had a piece of chalk so that he could write, "No, I own my own life," and proceeded to comment on the need for an organised, outspoken atheist group on Grounds. I consider Évariste's transformation from Christian to disillusioned Christian to shaky atheist to "militant" atheist to be a great triumph of reason and liberty.
Speaking of Évariste, things have generally been going well, especially after the instatement of the List system. The Plan is more than 90% finished, assuming I can count on promised donations. I am getting three pictures of myself painted, not to mention a new rose, after we lost the first one through "the initiation of force or fraud to take honestly acquired property".
UPDATE (23 Mar): We bought a Pink Promise, the official rose of the National Breast Cancer Foundation. It's a bush rose, however, not a miniature. Hehehe.
Did I mention that if I don't get up before 0900 tomorrow, I will miss my 14th BIOL 300 lecture? Good night, then!
P.S. I really hate this post. It is disorganised, ranting, and pointless. But I had way too much on my mind, and needed to get some of it down. So there.
23 March 2009
07 March 2009
Actually, I do eat babies.
The Baby-eater's Manifesto
We hold:
1) That from the moment of conception until the completion of birth, the zygote/embryo/foetus receives a conditional gift of residence from the woman within which it resides. It does not have the right to reside inside the woman any more than a houseguest, though invited, has the right to reside within the host's property.
2) That a woman's body is her property and that at any time during pregnancy, the woman has the absolute right to evict the zygote/embryo/foetus in the same manner that an individual may evict a guest (unprotected by contract) from his/her property.
3) That the right to abortion arises from the right to eviction in that the sustenance and protection (and therefore the potential of future viability) the zygote/embryo/foetus receives during its residence are also conditional gifts of the woman. Therefore, before a foetus is deemed independently viable, it does not have the right to life, and the woman has the absolute right to abortion.
4) That after a foetus is independently viable, it has the right to life. However, it still does not have the right to reside, and thus, a woman may still evict it for any reason. At this stage, the state may legislate restrictions on abortion (but not on eviction) with exceptions if the health (physical, psychological, emotional, or otherwise) of the woman is endangered by a non-abortive eviction procedure. This case is admittedly the most problematic, but it is also by far the least common.
Finally, we remind everyone that the support for a right does not entail the exercise of that right; that harsh language does not imply harsh intent; that the law does not prescribe morals; and that, of course, we do not really eat babies.
Mlles Galois, Grantaire, and Fine
We hold:
1) That from the moment of conception until the completion of birth, the zygote/embryo/foetus receives a conditional gift of residence from the woman within which it resides. It does not have the right to reside inside the woman any more than a houseguest, though invited, has the right to reside within the host's property.
2) That a woman's body is her property and that at any time during pregnancy, the woman has the absolute right to evict the zygote/embryo/foetus in the same manner that an individual may evict a guest (unprotected by contract) from his/her property.
3) That the right to abortion arises from the right to eviction in that the sustenance and protection (and therefore the potential of future viability) the zygote/embryo/foetus receives during its residence are also conditional gifts of the woman. Therefore, before a foetus is deemed independently viable, it does not have the right to life, and the woman has the absolute right to abortion.
4) That after a foetus is independently viable, it has the right to life. However, it still does not have the right to reside, and thus, a woman may still evict it for any reason. At this stage, the state may legislate restrictions on abortion (but not on eviction) with exceptions if the health (physical, psychological, emotional, or otherwise) of the woman is endangered by a non-abortive eviction procedure. This case is admittedly the most problematic, but it is also by far the least common.
Finally, we remind everyone that the support for a right does not entail the exercise of that right; that harsh language does not imply harsh intent; that the law does not prescribe morals; and that, of course, we do not really eat babies.
Mlles Galois, Grantaire, and Fine
03 March 2009
Vivere liberi aut mori
FIRST (and probably only) MAJOR SNOW OF THE SEASON!
I could just end the post there, but I have to give a meteorological rundown. Then for the fun stuff.
Location: Fairfax, Virginia
Duration: 1800 1st Mar 2009 - 1000 2 Mar 2009
Accumulation: 15 cm
Temperature: 2 to -6 degrees Celsius
Quality: Moderately fluffy. Not powdery enough for sledding, not sticky enough for *cough cough* sculpting. Damn.
So, I had decided ahead of time that if enough snow accumulated, I would make a representation of none other than Cato the Younger of Utica. Brief description: Cato was a Roman statesman and republican who fought against Caesar in the civil war and committed suicide rather than submitting to Caesar's rule.
Good thing he killed himself too, because unfortunately, the snow was just not wet enough for me to do the living version of him justice (or maybe I was just not patient enough). First, his sword-bearing arm fell off, then his right leg came off, and finally his whole body detached from the ground. So I simply lay him in his dead pose and proceeded to stab him with a fruit knife and write in pomegranate and blackberry juice the French and Latin words that read:
CATO OF UTICA
LIVE FREE OR DIE
Sorry, old fella. Well, I wasn't about to make you a slave to my sculpting skills.
My only implement for writing the letters was a teaspoon.
Since his features were so indistinct, I annotated him.
I could just end the post there, but I have to give a meteorological rundown. Then for the fun stuff.
Location: Fairfax, Virginia
Duration: 1800 1st Mar 2009 - 1000 2 Mar 2009
Accumulation: 15 cm
Temperature: 2 to -6 degrees Celsius
Quality: Moderately fluffy. Not powdery enough for sledding, not sticky enough for *cough cough* sculpting. Damn.
So, I had decided ahead of time that if enough snow accumulated, I would make a representation of none other than Cato the Younger of Utica. Brief description: Cato was a Roman statesman and republican who fought against Caesar in the civil war and committed suicide rather than submitting to Caesar's rule.
Good thing he killed himself too, because unfortunately, the snow was just not wet enough for me to do the living version of him justice (or maybe I was just not patient enough). First, his sword-bearing arm fell off, then his right leg came off, and finally his whole body detached from the ground. So I simply lay him in his dead pose and proceeded to stab him with a fruit knife and write in pomegranate and blackberry juice the French and Latin words that read:
CATO OF UTICA
LIVE FREE OR DIE
Sorry, old fella. Well, I wasn't about to make you a slave to my sculpting skills.
My only implement for writing the letters was a teaspoon.
Since his features were so indistinct, I annotated him.Enfin de retour! - "Anti-choice"
It is two hours to the conclusion 3 Mar 2009 and I am finally blogging again. I hope that I'll be a bit more regular from now on, but no promises.
The last six weeks have been quite a journey. I've had to deal with issues concerning Évariste, draw up a set of new approaches to the Plan, and come to terms with the reality that seemingly innocuous 1-credit EVSC 350L might as well account for 11 out of my 22 credits. However, these are all stories for another time or day. Right now, just to getting my hands wet, I'm going to write a tidbit about abortion.
The issue I want to address doesn't actually pertain to the whole abortion argument—it concerns semantics. Yes, I am going to describe why I like to use the term "anti-choice" to describe those opposed to a woman's right to an abortion. You might think that it's pointless, but I disagree. Naturally, for pro-choicers, "anti-choice" is a much more forceful appellation than "pro-life", but "anti-choice" is also a more accurate and meaningful description. Here's why.
It is a proven fact that you can be both pro-choice and pro-life. I am pro-choice (duh), but I certainly wouldn't lead a careless sex life just because I know that I have the right to an abortion anytime I might need it. I am not going to encourage the abortion of every zygote/embryo/fetus because I am "anti-life". Indeed, I will most likely never have an abortion. But if some woman out there needed an abortion, then I would fully support her right to have one. Even if that woman simply wanted an abortion, I would support her right to have one. Thomas Jefferson said that we should not be afraid "to tolerate any error so long as reason is left free to combat it." This principle works because the vast majority of people are "reasonable" and only a tiny fraction of people "err". (Do you think that most pro-choicers are like me or like Dracula?) It therefore follows that amid a reasonable society, the danger posed by these errors is much less than the danger of outlawing them, and anything that might lead to them, and anything that might lead to that, etc. This is one of the ideas of libertarianism. (Wow, I thought I was talking about semantics.)
There are many examples that parallel the statement that "just because I am pro-choice does not mean that I eat babies." Just because I support gay rights does not mean that I am lesbian. Just because I oppose gun control does not mean that I go around sniping my enemies (my aim would be horrible anyway). Just because I am anti-draft does not mean that I will not support my country's war efforts if I believe that it is fighting for a worthy cause. Along the same lines, just because I am atheist does not mean that I go out of my way to commit every possible "sin".
I digress. To summarise: I have just shown how you can be both pro-choice and pro-life. But, as far as I know, you cannot be both "pro-life" (in the anti-abortion sense) and support a woman's right to choose.
The term "pro-life" is therefore meaningless because the vast majority of humans, regardless of their stance on abortion rights, are pro-life. But "anti-choice" is meaningful because only pro-choicers are, well, pro-choice.
(Countless other people have probably had the same idea and followed the same line of reasoning. But if that is the case, then let me say that I came up with all of this independently. Convergent evolution FTW.)
The last six weeks have been quite a journey. I've had to deal with issues concerning Évariste, draw up a set of new approaches to the Plan, and come to terms with the reality that seemingly innocuous 1-credit EVSC 350L might as well account for 11 out of my 22 credits. However, these are all stories for another time or day. Right now, just to getting my hands wet, I'm going to write a tidbit about abortion.
The issue I want to address doesn't actually pertain to the whole abortion argument—it concerns semantics. Yes, I am going to describe why I like to use the term "anti-choice" to describe those opposed to a woman's right to an abortion. You might think that it's pointless, but I disagree. Naturally, for pro-choicers, "anti-choice" is a much more forceful appellation than "pro-life", but "anti-choice" is also a more accurate and meaningful description. Here's why.
It is a proven fact that you can be both pro-choice and pro-life. I am pro-choice (duh), but I certainly wouldn't lead a careless sex life just because I know that I have the right to an abortion anytime I might need it. I am not going to encourage the abortion of every zygote/embryo/fetus because I am "anti-life". Indeed, I will most likely never have an abortion. But if some woman out there needed an abortion, then I would fully support her right to have one. Even if that woman simply wanted an abortion, I would support her right to have one. Thomas Jefferson said that we should not be afraid "to tolerate any error so long as reason is left free to combat it." This principle works because the vast majority of people are "reasonable" and only a tiny fraction of people "err". (Do you think that most pro-choicers are like me or like Dracula?) It therefore follows that amid a reasonable society, the danger posed by these errors is much less than the danger of outlawing them, and anything that might lead to them, and anything that might lead to that, etc. This is one of the ideas of libertarianism. (Wow, I thought I was talking about semantics.)
There are many examples that parallel the statement that "just because I am pro-choice does not mean that I eat babies." Just because I support gay rights does not mean that I am lesbian. Just because I oppose gun control does not mean that I go around sniping my enemies (my aim would be horrible anyway). Just because I am anti-draft does not mean that I will not support my country's war efforts if I believe that it is fighting for a worthy cause. Along the same lines, just because I am atheist does not mean that I go out of my way to commit every possible "sin".
I digress. To summarise: I have just shown how you can be both pro-choice and pro-life. But, as far as I know, you cannot be both "pro-life" (in the anti-abortion sense) and support a woman's right to choose.
The term "pro-life" is therefore meaningless because the vast majority of humans, regardless of their stance on abortion rights, are pro-life. But "anti-choice" is meaningful because only pro-choicers are, well, pro-choice.
(Countless other people have probably had the same idea and followed the same line of reasoning. But if that is the case, then let me say that I came up with all of this independently. Convergent evolution FTW.)
20 January 2009
Intellectual hangover #1337
Hangovers are not fun. Even if they're intellectual as opposed to alcohol-related. Additionally, the night before the intellectual sort occurs, you can't sleep.
Therefore, when simply too much is running through my head for my brain to handle, I will simply list all my thoughts here. This won't prevent the hangover, although maybe it'll let me sleep a little easier.
#1337*
1.
ISSUE: The events of 17-18 Jan. A huge sub-list could follow.
THOUGHTS: Unpleasant, but perhaps necessary. Sorting out needed.
RESOLUTION: Évariste écrit. J'attends.
2.
ISSUE: How to deal with incidents such as those of 17-18 Jan.
THOUGHTS: It's working, but not "optimally". At least it's not like with Perscheux.
RESOLUTION: Explicit requests for help or specification; spontaneity exercises. The latter could also help with parly.
3.
ISSUE: Internship application essays.
THOUGHTS: I told my teachers I'd submit the IRIS application by the "end of this weekend". Shit.
RESOLUTION: I had better finish it in the next 24 hours.
4.
ISSUE: É = {2, 3, 4, ...} S = {1, 2}
THOUGHTS: There is one number at the intersection of the two sets. However, I only included 2 in my set to look slightly less extreme. Cue nervous laughter.
RESOLUTION: Maybe I am thinking way too far ahead, i.e. being pretentious.
And here follow some things that are running through my head but are not really issues to be resolved:
5. Spontaneity -> Ron Paul -> abortion -> anti-choice** libertarians -> definition of life -> certain accidents. Cue unrestrained laughter.
6. Redefining religion, theism, and atheism.
* The index begins at #1337 because this is obviously not the first intellectual hangover I have had, and because 1337 is, even more obviously, the coolest number ever.
** I have officially renounced the use of the term "pro-life". Who the hell is anti-life? On the other hand, who is anti-choice? Ah, now there we have a set whose members extend beyond the emo crowd.
And now since I'm on a bit of a rant...
Libre
de choisir sa vie
sans un anathème
sans un interdit
Libre
sans dieu ni patrie***
avec pour seul baptême
celui de l'eau de pluie
*** Sorry, O great lyric writers of Notre Dame de Paris. I've uncaplitalised these words. As is fitting.
**** 1337 bonus points for anyone besides Évariste who can understand what the hell I am talking about.
***** I am very well aware that "****" and "*****" were not referenced in the main text.
****** Yes, I will stop taking drugs and go to sleep now.
Therefore, when simply too much is running through my head for my brain to handle, I will simply list all my thoughts here. This won't prevent the hangover, although maybe it'll let me sleep a little easier.
#1337*
1.
ISSUE: The events of 17-18 Jan. A huge sub-list could follow.
THOUGHTS: Unpleasant, but perhaps necessary. Sorting out needed.
RESOLUTION: Évariste écrit. J'attends.
2.
ISSUE: How to deal with incidents such as those of 17-18 Jan.
THOUGHTS: It's working, but not "optimally". At least it's not like with Perscheux.
RESOLUTION: Explicit requests for help or specification; spontaneity exercises. The latter could also help with parly.
3.
ISSUE: Internship application essays.
THOUGHTS: I told my teachers I'd submit the IRIS application by the "end of this weekend". Shit.
RESOLUTION: I had better finish it in the next 24 hours.
4.
ISSUE: É = {2, 3, 4, ...} S = {1, 2}
THOUGHTS: There is one number at the intersection of the two sets. However, I only included 2 in my set to look slightly less extreme. Cue nervous laughter.
RESOLUTION: Maybe I am thinking way too far ahead, i.e. being pretentious.
And here follow some things that are running through my head but are not really issues to be resolved:
5. Spontaneity -> Ron Paul -> abortion -> anti-choice** libertarians -> definition of life -> certain accidents. Cue unrestrained laughter.
6. Redefining religion, theism, and atheism.
* The index begins at #1337 because this is obviously not the first intellectual hangover I have had, and because 1337 is, even more obviously, the coolest number ever.
** I have officially renounced the use of the term "pro-life". Who the hell is anti-life? On the other hand, who is anti-choice? Ah, now there we have a set whose members extend beyond the emo crowd.
And now since I'm on a bit of a rant...
Libre
de choisir sa vie
sans un anathème
sans un interdit
Libre
sans dieu ni patrie***
avec pour seul baptême
celui de l'eau de pluie
*** Sorry, O great lyric writers of Notre Dame de Paris. I've uncaplitalised these words. As is fitting.
**** 1337 bonus points for anyone besides Évariste who can understand what the hell I am talking about.
***** I am very well aware that "****" and "*****" were not referenced in the main text.
****** Yes, I will stop taking drugs and go to sleep now.
11 January 2009
projet
quand j'étais plus jeune,
il y avait un château
dans mon cerveau
que je voulais bâtir,
maintenant, c'est mon espérance
de le partager avec une fille
avec qui je peux entendre
le vent soupir la nuit
je sais que bâtir ne sera pas facile
car le bâtissement changera les bâtisseurs
et que l'ambition d'Évariste, a besoin
de l'adoucissement d'un réaliste
mais ce garcon qui cherche la vérité
et aime une fille qui l'aide à chercher
voudrait aussi garder son romanticiste.
il y avait un château
dans mon cerveau
que je voulais bâtir,
maintenant, c'est mon espérance
de le partager avec une fille
avec qui je peux entendre
le vent soupir la nuit
je sais que bâtir ne sera pas facile
car le bâtissement changera les bâtisseurs
et que l'ambition d'Évariste, a besoin
de l'adoucissement d'un réaliste
mais ce garcon qui cherche la vérité
et aime une fille qui l'aide à chercher
voudrait aussi garder son romanticiste.
06 January 2009
Notre chanson
This is the one-month anniversary poem I wrote on 17-19 Mar 2007. It's timeless and, according to Évariste, stylistically perfect. Perhaps this is the last time I will have to present this to someone...
Il y a un mois, un mois entier
que nous nous sommes épris ;
On partageait de nos secrets
et mélangeait nos vies.
Quand chaque journée approche sa fin
le ciel rougit dans l’ouest,
On se connaît mieux qu’au matin
mais ’y a un monde qui reste.
Le vent commence à s’adoucir
L’hiver est en retraite ;
Les fleurs se mettent à s’épanouir
mais elles ne sont pas faites.
Le grand soleil se lève demain
sur tel un beau printemps :
On n’a que monté le chemin
Le comble est si distant.
Tends-moi la main et accueillons
le temps qui va venir,
Ouvrons nos cœurs et regardons
au loin dans l’avenir.
Il y a un mois, un mois entier
que nous nous sommes épris ;
On partageait de nos secrets
et mélangeait nos vies.
Quand chaque journée approche sa fin
le ciel rougit dans l’ouest,
On se connaît mieux qu’au matin
mais ’y a un monde qui reste.
Le vent commence à s’adoucir
L’hiver est en retraite ;
Les fleurs se mettent à s’épanouir
mais elles ne sont pas faites.
Le grand soleil se lève demain
sur tel un beau printemps :
On n’a que monté le chemin
Le comble est si distant.
Tends-moi la main et accueillons
le temps qui va venir,
Ouvrons nos cœurs et regardons
au loin dans l’avenir.
Ai na vedui!
On the one-month anniversary of the beginning of my relationship with Évariste, I finally got the letter that was supposed to arrive "around Christmastime".
I am reminded of when, at the beginning of sixth grade, my class made time capsules. On the last week of school, when my teacher retrieved them from the closet, I exclaimed loudly, "Wow! I completely forgot about those!" The whole class looked at me as if to say, Duh! That's what's supposed to happen! Then a classmate revealed that on 7 Sept 2001, she had written, "I am concerned about the threat of international terrorism," and we all regarded her as one would regard a prophet.
I had not forgotten about this letter, however—far from it. On 2 Jan 2008, my English teacher had given us an assignment to write a letter to ourselves. Without reading them, she would stow them away for a year and send them to us "at the end of 2008, around Christmastime, when you are all home for winter break".
I took this assignment very seriously, since I love the idea of writing down memories to be preserved and read later (which is also why I am blogging). And ever since the beginning of winter holidays I have been waiting on the arrival of my letters. I say letters because I had also asked Perscheux to write a letter to me, which was sealed unread inside the envelope along with my own letter. Double the anticipation.
First, my own letter:
2 ianuarie 2008 1348 EST
Well, well, well. Who knew that the next time I'd put a journal header on a page, it wouldn't be in my journal? You know, I'm gonna remember exactly what I wrote a year from now, because I always do... Interdite has helped my memory quite a bit, and I am both happy and sad I terminated it. Happy, because I saved a lot of time during the college app season, and sad, because I really treasure written memories (which is why I like this assignment). Therefore, just as I promised myself, I began my new journal with the new year: titled in Romanian, un sfârşit şi un început. I really hope I maintain this journal for many years...
Anyway, since I was so melodramatic in the first usşuî entry, even though I didn't title it "Death", I'll leave off some of the melodrama here. Firstly I'll talk about college, since that is going to be the major change over the next year. In all honesty, I predict I'll get into UVA, UMD, UNC, Cornell, Duke, and either Princeton or Harvard. I really hope I'll get into either Princeton or Harvard because I want to go to one of those. Of course, Princeton is preferred because of the tiger mascot. Then again, Harvard is closer to MIT...
Which brings me to my second point: Perscheux. I believe that in December 2008, our relationship will still be as strong as ever, although I'm not saying that our separation for long periods of time won't be a strain. But coming home for winter break and seeing him again should make everything perfect... I hope we keep in touch through IM, and that my chat log contines to wildly eclipse André's. Also, I really hope to institute the letter-writing system (hehe, how ironic), and I wonder if I'll be using lines from Voltaj songs like such:
Azi a fost cald şi soare, dar nu-n inima mea
Şi dimineaţa mi s-a părut că aud vocea ta
Nu ştiu cum să fac să nu mai fi aşa de dor
Şi îţi scriu aceste rânduri sperând că timpul va trece mai uşor.
Then again, by that time, I'll probably find new Romanian songs to emo about. But Voltaj, O-Zone, and Deşteaptă-te, române! will always hold a special place in my heart, just like L'Internationale and Faudel. I also want to soot that Eu cu mine music video, although I don't think that'll happen this year... Okay, getting off-topic, what a surprise... Anyway, I hope Perscheux will continue to be the light in my life, for this year and forever...
[break between days]
As for my current state of mind and state of being: I have just resolved an issue involving Perscheux and grades and schoolwork. It was pretty painful last night and this morning, but it doesn't hurt anymore... And I can see that Perscheux really loves me and would do anything for me...
As for my random obsessions, the current major one is Romanian. Da, limba română. Este o limbă foarte frumoasă pe care o învăţ. Şi Perscheux m-ajută mult. I hope that in a year I'll be able to speak/write/read/understand Romanian as well as I can do the same with French right now. I also hope my French will contine to improve. As for other obsessions that might come along, who knows?... Only time will tell.
On a more national scale, the Iowa Caucuses are taking place as I write. I predict a narrow Clinton win, though nobody agrees with me. I also predict that Clinton will become president in 2009, though I would change that prediction to whichever Republican fool is nominated if it turns out that Obama, not Clinton, wins the Democratic primaries. I really don't think Obama can win; he's too liberal... Blah. I'm not a very political person anyway, so let's get away from these matters...
Let's see what I'm looking forward to this year...
Au revoir
La revedere
Auf Wiedersehen
再见
Goodbye—
Estelle Vera Romana Ingrid Raleigh de Laurent
1959 EST
3 ianuarie 2008
I was correct in that a year after the fact, I did remember a large part of what I had written. Even before receiving the letter, I knew I had been wrong about Princeton and Harvard, and I remembered that I had taken some lines from "Scrisoare". And it's a given that I wrote mushy stuff about Perscheux. The only real surprise was my political predictions, which were mistaken on as many counts as they could have been mistaken.
Therefore, I awaited Perscheux's letter with much more anticipation. I wondered what he would have written if he knew that I would not read it until a year later. I wondered if he had despaired of our relationship long before he revealed it to me. Most of all, I wondered if his words would provide some insight into his true character, that is, his closed-mindedness, apathy, immaturity, and instability that I had unearthed throughout the course of 2008, but which was mostly unknown to me as of the first week of the year.
Well, here's the letter.
Dear Stéphanie-Felice,
It is 0246 on the 4th of January 2007. After agonising for quite a period of time about what to write and coming up with no answer, I've decided to just write and see what happens. As you're not going to be reading this for a while, and certainly (hopefully?) after I'll somehow resolve thsi emotional and schoolwork crisis, I can tell you what I can't in te present.
It terrifies me to think about the emotional wounds I have inflicted upon you recently. I did not mean for any of this to happen and I certainly don't want it to happen again. However, there is a side of me that you're not seeing: I don't trust myself anymore. Why do I not "take more initiative"? Because I don't feel that any of the initiatives I could take are any good. As I'm writing this letter, I'm also contemplating ripping it up and writing it from scratch.
Yes, I have flaws. I procrastinate, I'm messy, I lose things, I get pushed around by my family. This night I was slow at taking hints, oblivious, and rather detached. Yet how can I fix any of this if I have lost hope in my being able to do so? That hope, that knowledge that I could do something right, vanished along with my misconceptions about my maths grade. It left as the fear of disappointing you appeared. Your trust in me became a temporary replacement for mine. When I inadvertently hurt you, and your trust in me was shaken, I was left with nothing. How can I organise my stuff and my life when I don't believe anything can come of it? How can I do better in school, no matter how much I want to, if I don't think myself capable?
This is why I need you! If it were not for you, I probably would have done something drastic (to my grades, especially). I would have given up long ago, maybe even on life, as it seems so ill-fitting to me.
Anyway, it's 0345 now. The night is too short. I have another letter to write to you, one not so open and unworried by immediate reading and judgement.
Here's to happier days and maybe a time when I respect myself for who I am.
And don't forget: no matter the difficulties we go through, there is one constant: I love you.
I hope you're having fun at Princeton!
Love,
Perscheux
So it appears that my musings on the content of his letter were almost clairvoyant. I recognise the despair, the apathy, the resignation, and the dangerously unstable je vis pour toi attitude. In fact, as I read and reread his letter, I begin to fully appreciate just how similar Ernest and Perscheux were, even though Perscheux had vowed above all never to be like Ernest. Ernest had said that he believed himself incapable of making an effort, of making a difference in himself. Do I hear an echo of those words here? More than an echo perhaps?
Perhaps Perscheux one day will learn to respect himself for who he is, without need for false devoutness, scapegoats, or self-righteousness. Perhaps one day he will live for the beautiful things in life, and not for false beliefs, false perceptions, and false love. Perhaps when he acquires true self-respect, this life will not seem so ill-fitting.
I think I can finally file Perscheux away into the deep archives of my memory. In the meantime, here's to my friends, to my family, to Évariste, and to all that is beautiful in life.
I am reminded of when, at the beginning of sixth grade, my class made time capsules. On the last week of school, when my teacher retrieved them from the closet, I exclaimed loudly, "Wow! I completely forgot about those!" The whole class looked at me as if to say, Duh! That's what's supposed to happen! Then a classmate revealed that on 7 Sept 2001, she had written, "I am concerned about the threat of international terrorism," and we all regarded her as one would regard a prophet.
I had not forgotten about this letter, however—far from it. On 2 Jan 2008, my English teacher had given us an assignment to write a letter to ourselves. Without reading them, she would stow them away for a year and send them to us "at the end of 2008, around Christmastime, when you are all home for winter break".
I took this assignment very seriously, since I love the idea of writing down memories to be preserved and read later (which is also why I am blogging). And ever since the beginning of winter holidays I have been waiting on the arrival of my letters. I say letters because I had also asked Perscheux to write a letter to me, which was sealed unread inside the envelope along with my own letter. Double the anticipation.
First, my own letter:
2 ianuarie 2008 1348 EST
Well, well, well. Who knew that the next time I'd put a journal header on a page, it wouldn't be in my journal? You know, I'm gonna remember exactly what I wrote a year from now, because I always do... Interdite has helped my memory quite a bit, and I am both happy and sad I terminated it. Happy, because I saved a lot of time during the college app season, and sad, because I really treasure written memories (which is why I like this assignment). Therefore, just as I promised myself, I began my new journal with the new year: titled in Romanian, un sfârşit şi un început. I really hope I maintain this journal for many years...
Anyway, since I was so melodramatic in the first usşuî entry, even though I didn't title it "Death", I'll leave off some of the melodrama here. Firstly I'll talk about college, since that is going to be the major change over the next year. In all honesty, I predict I'll get into UVA, UMD, UNC, Cornell, Duke, and either Princeton or Harvard. I really hope I'll get into either Princeton or Harvard because I want to go to one of those. Of course, Princeton is preferred because of the tiger mascot. Then again, Harvard is closer to MIT...
Which brings me to my second point: Perscheux. I believe that in December 2008, our relationship will still be as strong as ever, although I'm not saying that our separation for long periods of time won't be a strain. But coming home for winter break and seeing him again should make everything perfect... I hope we keep in touch through IM, and that my chat log contines to wildly eclipse André's. Also, I really hope to institute the letter-writing system (hehe, how ironic), and I wonder if I'll be using lines from Voltaj songs like such:
Azi a fost cald şi soare, dar nu-n inima mea
Şi dimineaţa mi s-a părut că aud vocea ta
Nu ştiu cum să fac să nu mai fi aşa de dor
Şi îţi scriu aceste rânduri sperând că timpul va trece mai uşor.
Then again, by that time, I'll probably find new Romanian songs to emo about. But Voltaj, O-Zone, and Deşteaptă-te, române! will always hold a special place in my heart, just like L'Internationale and Faudel. I also want to soot that Eu cu mine music video, although I don't think that'll happen this year... Okay, getting off-topic, what a surprise... Anyway, I hope Perscheux will continue to be the light in my life, for this year and forever...
[break between days]
As for my current state of mind and state of being: I have just resolved an issue involving Perscheux and grades and schoolwork. It was pretty painful last night and this morning, but it doesn't hurt anymore... And I can see that Perscheux really loves me and would do anything for me...
As for my random obsessions, the current major one is Romanian. Da, limba română. Este o limbă foarte frumoasă pe care o învăţ. Şi Perscheux m-ajută mult. I hope that in a year I'll be able to speak/write/read/understand Romanian as well as I can do the same with French right now. I also hope my French will contine to improve. As for other obsessions that might come along, who knows?... Only time will tell.
On a more national scale, the Iowa Caucuses are taking place as I write. I predict a narrow Clinton win, though nobody agrees with me. I also predict that Clinton will become president in 2009, though I would change that prediction to whichever Republican fool is nominated if it turns out that Obama, not Clinton, wins the Democratic primaries. I really don't think Obama can win; he's too liberal... Blah. I'm not a very political person anyway, so let's get away from these matters...
Let's see what I'm looking forward to this year...
- Going to France
- Getting college admission letters
- Seeing a Democrat get elected as president
- Going to China/Olympics 2008
- Going to college (see below)
- Hanging out with Perscheux
- Going back to my internship across from White Flint
- Schoolwork
- Duke interview/other interviews
- Going to college...
Au revoir
La revedere
Auf Wiedersehen
再见
Goodbye—
Estelle Vera Romana Ingrid Raleigh de Laurent
1959 EST
3 ianuarie 2008
I was correct in that a year after the fact, I did remember a large part of what I had written. Even before receiving the letter, I knew I had been wrong about Princeton and Harvard, and I remembered that I had taken some lines from "Scrisoare". And it's a given that I wrote mushy stuff about Perscheux. The only real surprise was my political predictions, which were mistaken on as many counts as they could have been mistaken.
Therefore, I awaited Perscheux's letter with much more anticipation. I wondered what he would have written if he knew that I would not read it until a year later. I wondered if he had despaired of our relationship long before he revealed it to me. Most of all, I wondered if his words would provide some insight into his true character, that is, his closed-mindedness, apathy, immaturity, and instability that I had unearthed throughout the course of 2008, but which was mostly unknown to me as of the first week of the year.
Well, here's the letter.
Dear Stéphanie-Felice,
It is 0246 on the 4th of January 2007. After agonising for quite a period of time about what to write and coming up with no answer, I've decided to just write and see what happens. As you're not going to be reading this for a while, and certainly (hopefully?) after I'll somehow resolve thsi emotional and schoolwork crisis, I can tell you what I can't in te present.
It terrifies me to think about the emotional wounds I have inflicted upon you recently. I did not mean for any of this to happen and I certainly don't want it to happen again. However, there is a side of me that you're not seeing: I don't trust myself anymore. Why do I not "take more initiative"? Because I don't feel that any of the initiatives I could take are any good. As I'm writing this letter, I'm also contemplating ripping it up and writing it from scratch.
Yes, I have flaws. I procrastinate, I'm messy, I lose things, I get pushed around by my family. This night I was slow at taking hints, oblivious, and rather detached. Yet how can I fix any of this if I have lost hope in my being able to do so? That hope, that knowledge that I could do something right, vanished along with my misconceptions about my maths grade. It left as the fear of disappointing you appeared. Your trust in me became a temporary replacement for mine. When I inadvertently hurt you, and your trust in me was shaken, I was left with nothing. How can I organise my stuff and my life when I don't believe anything can come of it? How can I do better in school, no matter how much I want to, if I don't think myself capable?
This is why I need you! If it were not for you, I probably would have done something drastic (to my grades, especially). I would have given up long ago, maybe even on life, as it seems so ill-fitting to me.
Anyway, it's 0345 now. The night is too short. I have another letter to write to you, one not so open and unworried by immediate reading and judgement.
Here's to happier days and maybe a time when I respect myself for who I am.
And don't forget: no matter the difficulties we go through, there is one constant: I love you.
I hope you're having fun at Princeton!
Love,
Perscheux
So it appears that my musings on the content of his letter were almost clairvoyant. I recognise the despair, the apathy, the resignation, and the dangerously unstable je vis pour toi attitude. In fact, as I read and reread his letter, I begin to fully appreciate just how similar Ernest and Perscheux were, even though Perscheux had vowed above all never to be like Ernest. Ernest had said that he believed himself incapable of making an effort, of making a difference in himself. Do I hear an echo of those words here? More than an echo perhaps?
Perhaps Perscheux one day will learn to respect himself for who he is, without need for false devoutness, scapegoats, or self-righteousness. Perhaps one day he will live for the beautiful things in life, and not for false beliefs, false perceptions, and false love. Perhaps when he acquires true self-respect, this life will not seem so ill-fitting.
I think I can finally file Perscheux away into the deep archives of my memory. In the meantime, here's to my friends, to my family, to Évariste, and to all that is beautiful in life.
Integrity test
On the last day of 2008, I decided to use the time between hourly countdowns to do some friendship bracelet marketing for the Plan around the neighbourhood. At the third house I tried, a girl answered the door and, after consulting her sister, purchased a bracelet.
When I returned home and was about to put the money in an envelope, I realised that instead of giving me five one-dollar bills, she had given me four ones and a twenty.
The decision about what to do was simple and straightforward. Of most interest, however, was how I reached it. I asked myself: In a few years, do I really want to tell someone about how I had cast integrity aside in doing something for Évariste, as I have been telling Évariste about how I had cast integrity aside in doing something for Perscheux?
I contemplated this question for a few seconds and concluded: Nah!
When I returned home and was about to put the money in an envelope, I realised that instead of giving me five one-dollar bills, she had given me four ones and a twenty.
The decision about what to do was simple and straightforward. Of most interest, however, was how I reached it. I asked myself: In a few years, do I really want to tell someone about how I had cast integrity aside in doing something for Évariste, as I have been telling Évariste about how I had cast integrity aside in doing something for Perscheux?
I contemplated this question for a few seconds and concluded: Nah!
05 January 2009
Of Perscheux and Évariste
I've been trying to write this post for ten days now, and I believe it's finally time, after having told Évariste the full story and having had a few minor problems involving Évariste himself, to finish it.
The Vow of Nienna
taken in the form of Elendil’s Oath
I, Telperiën Vardamir, hereby take the Vow of Nienna and the Oath of Elendil, and swear in the name of Narsil and the Vardamir and the Silmarils and Númenor the Downfallen that I shall remain thus alone until Yestarë S.A. 3423. If Nienna is not with me because I have thrice betrayed Her, then so is the doom I have wrought for myself, but if She be forgiving and has the mind to render aid, then I call upon Her to heal the hurts that Ániero and Parfdil have done. I understand that fealty will be rewarded with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance. So say I, Telperiën Vardamir, daughter of Elendë Duchess of Rómenna of the Númenóreans, on this twenty-ninth day of this eleventh month, in the year 3418 of this Second Age.
Beyond the Elvish and the flowery language, the resolution is clear: I will not be in a relationship until 2010. However, I believe that there is another statement beyond that one, at the very core of the Vow: I will uncompromisingly protect my liberty and individuality. Even then, before I truly became attached to any of my boyfriends, I feared that a relationship would threaten those things most dear to me.
Ernest was the first boyfriend I truly felt attached to. With him, I began to lose my individuality, my self-respect, and my perspective. At this point, my true self was still strong enough to identify the series of changes that was happening and to make occasional resistance attempts. However, I had lost a sufficient amount of self-respect such that I never would have taken the initiative to terminate the relationship. Ernest did that for me, and in retrospect, I must say that I am thankful.
I now recognise the days between the beginning of the incident that initiated the breakup and my finally letting go as a criticial period in my life. At the time, I called this period the Nine Days of Liberation. But now, I realise that there were only eight days of liberation. For I made a critical mistake: I did not take the time to rebuild my self-identity, my self-respect, my perspective. On the ninth day, with all these attributes still languishing, I entered into 17 more months of self-degradation.
My relationship with Perscheux commenced happily, as all relationships tend to do. Before long, however, I had discovered four traits that fundamentally characterised him: closed-mindedness, apathy, immaturity, and instability. His closed-mindedness was manifested in his philosophy that all that mattered was directly related to his future career in computer science, and everything else, including the whole concept of liberal arts, was tantamount to brainwashing. His apathy was manifested in his lack of concern for society, politics, economics, and, most importantly, self-improvement. His immaturity was manifested in his inability to deal with "the System" and his belief that he could go against "the System" without suffering the consequences. And his instability was manifested in his continuous rollercoaster of unsorted emotions, and not least in his frequent meditations on suicide and several attempts.
In reaction to these characteristics, I made several fatal mistakes. Refusing to be laissez-faire with regard to what I perceived as a crash course towards disaster, I assumed an authoritarian role, which I hated. I micromanaged his time and demanded full disclosure of his actions. For each of his mistakes I exacted uncompromising justice. And when he ceased to be emotionally and intellectually pleasing, I began demanding material tribute, including but not limited to expensive roses, amethyst jewelry, and blood.
I lost my integrity by practically doing Perscheux's homework for him. I lost my honesty by devising a grand lie in which Perscheux's parents unknowingly allowed him to go to the beach with me. I lost certain friendships by isolating and distancing myself from well near everyone except Perscheux. I lost my beliefs by allowing myself to be "converted" to "Christianity". I lost my perspective and my raison d'être by scorning liberty and individuality and embracing a world where Perscheux was the inspiration, the means, and the end to everything. I lost my respect for my teachers by casting loathing looks at those who gave Perscheux bad grades, cursing them in secret. I lost my respect for my parents by angrily retorting every time they said something negative about Perscheux. I lost my respect for myself by remaining in this relationship. Moreover, I bore these losses with pride, proclaiming, "See how much I would happily sacrifice for you? See how much you are worth to me?"
In effect, my relationship with Perscheux completely destroyed my true self. Stéphanie-Felice and all the ideas and principles she stood for were no more. In her place came Marie, a being who was completely dependent on Perscheux and veritably only existed because of Perscheux. What was more, Marie managed to convince herself that she was happy. Even in the greatest depths of despair, she avowed that she would have it no other way: "I would live as Marie and die a stranger rather than be without you."
Then I went to college.
At college, I established myself in a circle of unique and supportive friends. After a lull of well over a year, I developed new academic passions for chemistry, particle physics, and Les Misérables. My successes across the board in my classes nurtured in me a new sense of self-confidence. I acquired many types of liberty, and with these new liberties came a newly strong love of liberty. I actually found things that I would rather do than sitting around waiting for Perscheux to respond to my messages, and being free to do them, I did.
At college, I gained back much of what I had lost. Because Marie had no integrity, respect, individuality, or liberty, she had convinced herself that they were worthless. But as I slowly developed a sense of self again, these things began to assume more value, and gradually, the trade-off between the newly reborn Stéphanie-Felice and Perscheux appeared less and less favourable.
On 22 Nov 2008, the trade-off suddenly seemed far too disproportionate. I dumped Perscheux in a matter of three sentences and two minutes, conducted a 20-minute password-changing frenzy, and burst into the dining hall proclaiming to my friend: "I dumped Perscheux! I dumped Perscheux! La liberté me vaut plus!" We embraced each other, veritably jumping for joy, and I promptly proceeded to consume not one, but two slices of cheesecake at dinner.
The following day, I walked back from dinner with two close friends. The air was crisp and misty. We sang "Les Champs-Élysées" to the nightfall in perfect unison, warming up our voices for our talent show performance later that night, which included the "Large Hadron Rap". And finally we stayed up until 0500 at my suite, discoursing freely on everything from chemistry to national sovereignty. It was an amazing feeling.
Meanwhile, sometime in late September or early October, I had met Évariste. My impression of him changed frequently, from an annoying physics-obsessed student in the corner of the CHEM 181 lecture who asked too many questions to a brilliant classmate who seemed conversational on any topic to an individual with whom I felt a large degree of intellectual affinity but whom I disliked as a person. For the most part, however, he was nothing more or less than an interesting person to be around, and we soon found ourselves as members of the same chemistry study group and collaborators in an epic four-year Les Misérables project.
The situation was complicated slightly when my friend confirmed my suspicion that Évariste liked me. My first answer to the question "Would you go out with Évariste?" was a resounding no, based on my new condition that I would not allow any limitations on my liberties, and my conviction that Évariste would not be able to uphold this condition were he in a relationship with me. His denunciation of positive liberties and his noncompliance with a promise he had made to work on the project seemed to seal my opinion.
But in the early morning hours of 6 Dec 2008, with a non-operational voice and two days before the beginning of finals, I decided, for a reason still unclear to me, to give Évariste a chance—provided that he accept the conditions.
And since it would take many thousand more words to describe what I have learned about Évariste since then, I shall simply list a few examples. His framework is based upon the interaction of negative liberties to create positive liberties. He has the practicality of an adult and the idealism of a child. He has had to put up with quite a bit of crap, yet his principles and optimism don't seem compromised. He actually cares about his grades and plans to ace CHEM 182L.
Évariste, of course, is not perfect. However, he believes in self-improvement and constantly works towards it, sometimes grounded in theory, sometimes applying the scientific method. There is none of the childish "take me as I am or leave me" attitude as with Perscheux. No; instead, the attitude is, "I want to change for the better, and you can be my external pressure."
I am still not sure exactly why I trust Évariste. All I know is that I have suffered no loss of liberty, individuality, respect, integrity, or anything else that I cherish. In other words, I have become attached to Évariste without becoming detached in the slightest from my sense of self. I have effectively entered into a relationship while upholding the Vow of Nienna, if one reads from the Vow only its core meaning.
This is no more a problem of economics and opportunity cost. The question of What have I gained? What have I lost? is now invalid. I have lost nothing. And as for what I have gained, well...
Évariste once told me that he would die for love, republicanism, and maths. I interpret this statement very liberally. I think that love consists of not only his affection for me but also his search for Truth, Light, and Purpose, quite separate from the notion of religion. To me, republicanism means not only his resentment of the French monarchy but rather all of his principles and values, upon which he builds an upright and respectable character. And maths refers not only to group theory but also to his admirable intellect, his passion for just about all fields of knowledge, and his insatiable desire to learn.
Love, republicanism, and maths. What more could I possibly ask for in a man?
The original vow of Nienna, preserved intact after having been removed from my file folder.
My discussion of Perscheux and Évariste necessarily begins in late 2005, before I knew about the existence of either of these people. To make a long story short (I just deleted about 500 words of it), on 19 Nov 2005, after a series of relationship-related catastrophes that included two seemingly viable plans for Homecoming falling through, I made a landmark decision: I took the Vow of Nienna, reproduced below.
The Vow of Nienna
taken in the form of Elendil’s Oath
I, Telperiën Vardamir, hereby take the Vow of Nienna and the Oath of Elendil, and swear in the name of Narsil and the Vardamir and the Silmarils and Númenor the Downfallen that I shall remain thus alone until Yestarë S.A. 3423. If Nienna is not with me because I have thrice betrayed Her, then so is the doom I have wrought for myself, but if She be forgiving and has the mind to render aid, then I call upon Her to heal the hurts that Ániero and Parfdil have done. I understand that fealty will be rewarded with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance. So say I, Telperiën Vardamir, daughter of Elendë Duchess of Rómenna of the Númenóreans, on this twenty-ninth day of this eleventh month, in the year 3418 of this Second Age.
Beyond the Elvish and the flowery language, the resolution is clear: I will not be in a relationship until 2010. However, I believe that there is another statement beyond that one, at the very core of the Vow: I will uncompromisingly protect my liberty and individuality. Even then, before I truly became attached to any of my boyfriends, I feared that a relationship would threaten those things most dear to me.
I made three copies of the Vow. One I taped onto my desk, another I posted on my bulletin board, another I attached to my principal file folder. My original handwritten draft I stuck on my door mirror. I intended the Vow to be as omnipresent as possible, a constant reminder of the commitment I had made—a commitment to myself.
I kept the Vow for 15 months. I shaped my peculiarities, I discovered many passions, I embraced liberty. And then, on 20 Feb 2007, I broke the Vow. I wrote a letter to Ernest, as full of esoteric references and flowery language as the Vow, but which also concealed a simple message: I love you.
Thus began my relationship with Ernest. And from then on, with the Vow broken but by no means forgotten, it was always a question of: What have I gained? What have I lost?
Often, it seemed that whatever I had lost was greatly overshadowed by what I had gained, and thereby I justified my remaining in a relationship. But it was always apparent that I had lost something.
Ernest was the first boyfriend I truly felt attached to. With him, I began to lose my individuality, my self-respect, and my perspective. At this point, my true self was still strong enough to identify the series of changes that was happening and to make occasional resistance attempts. However, I had lost a sufficient amount of self-respect such that I never would have taken the initiative to terminate the relationship. Ernest did that for me, and in retrospect, I must say that I am thankful.
I now recognise the days between the beginning of the incident that initiated the breakup and my finally letting go as a criticial period in my life. At the time, I called this period the Nine Days of Liberation. But now, I realise that there were only eight days of liberation. For I made a critical mistake: I did not take the time to rebuild my self-identity, my self-respect, my perspective. On the ninth day, with all these attributes still languishing, I entered into 17 more months of self-degradation.
My relationship with Perscheux commenced happily, as all relationships tend to do. Before long, however, I had discovered four traits that fundamentally characterised him: closed-mindedness, apathy, immaturity, and instability. His closed-mindedness was manifested in his philosophy that all that mattered was directly related to his future career in computer science, and everything else, including the whole concept of liberal arts, was tantamount to brainwashing. His apathy was manifested in his lack of concern for society, politics, economics, and, most importantly, self-improvement. His immaturity was manifested in his inability to deal with "the System" and his belief that he could go against "the System" without suffering the consequences. And his instability was manifested in his continuous rollercoaster of unsorted emotions, and not least in his frequent meditations on suicide and several attempts.
In reaction to these characteristics, I made several fatal mistakes. Refusing to be laissez-faire with regard to what I perceived as a crash course towards disaster, I assumed an authoritarian role, which I hated. I micromanaged his time and demanded full disclosure of his actions. For each of his mistakes I exacted uncompromising justice. And when he ceased to be emotionally and intellectually pleasing, I began demanding material tribute, including but not limited to expensive roses, amethyst jewelry, and blood.
I lost my integrity by practically doing Perscheux's homework for him. I lost my honesty by devising a grand lie in which Perscheux's parents unknowingly allowed him to go to the beach with me. I lost certain friendships by isolating and distancing myself from well near everyone except Perscheux. I lost my beliefs by allowing myself to be "converted" to "Christianity". I lost my perspective and my raison d'être by scorning liberty and individuality and embracing a world where Perscheux was the inspiration, the means, and the end to everything. I lost my respect for my teachers by casting loathing looks at those who gave Perscheux bad grades, cursing them in secret. I lost my respect for my parents by angrily retorting every time they said something negative about Perscheux. I lost my respect for myself by remaining in this relationship. Moreover, I bore these losses with pride, proclaiming, "See how much I would happily sacrifice for you? See how much you are worth to me?"
In effect, my relationship with Perscheux completely destroyed my true self. Stéphanie-Felice and all the ideas and principles she stood for were no more. In her place came Marie, a being who was completely dependent on Perscheux and veritably only existed because of Perscheux. What was more, Marie managed to convince herself that she was happy. Even in the greatest depths of despair, she avowed that she would have it no other way: "I would live as Marie and die a stranger rather than be without you."
Then I went to college.
At college, I established myself in a circle of unique and supportive friends. After a lull of well over a year, I developed new academic passions for chemistry, particle physics, and Les Misérables. My successes across the board in my classes nurtured in me a new sense of self-confidence. I acquired many types of liberty, and with these new liberties came a newly strong love of liberty. I actually found things that I would rather do than sitting around waiting for Perscheux to respond to my messages, and being free to do them, I did.
At college, I gained back much of what I had lost. Because Marie had no integrity, respect, individuality, or liberty, she had convinced herself that they were worthless. But as I slowly developed a sense of self again, these things began to assume more value, and gradually, the trade-off between the newly reborn Stéphanie-Felice and Perscheux appeared less and less favourable.
On 22 Nov 2008, the trade-off suddenly seemed far too disproportionate. I dumped Perscheux in a matter of three sentences and two minutes, conducted a 20-minute password-changing frenzy, and burst into the dining hall proclaiming to my friend: "I dumped Perscheux! I dumped Perscheux! La liberté me vaut plus!" We embraced each other, veritably jumping for joy, and I promptly proceeded to consume not one, but two slices of cheesecake at dinner.
The following day, I walked back from dinner with two close friends. The air was crisp and misty. We sang "Les Champs-Élysées" to the nightfall in perfect unison, warming up our voices for our talent show performance later that night, which included the "Large Hadron Rap". And finally we stayed up until 0500 at my suite, discoursing freely on everything from chemistry to national sovereignty. It was an amazing feeling.
Meanwhile, sometime in late September or early October, I had met Évariste. My impression of him changed frequently, from an annoying physics-obsessed student in the corner of the CHEM 181 lecture who asked too many questions to a brilliant classmate who seemed conversational on any topic to an individual with whom I felt a large degree of intellectual affinity but whom I disliked as a person. For the most part, however, he was nothing more or less than an interesting person to be around, and we soon found ourselves as members of the same chemistry study group and collaborators in an epic four-year Les Misérables project.
The situation was complicated slightly when my friend confirmed my suspicion that Évariste liked me. My first answer to the question "Would you go out with Évariste?" was a resounding no, based on my new condition that I would not allow any limitations on my liberties, and my conviction that Évariste would not be able to uphold this condition were he in a relationship with me. His denunciation of positive liberties and his noncompliance with a promise he had made to work on the project seemed to seal my opinion.
But in the early morning hours of 6 Dec 2008, with a non-operational voice and two days before the beginning of finals, I decided, for a reason still unclear to me, to give Évariste a chance—provided that he accept the conditions.
And since it would take many thousand more words to describe what I have learned about Évariste since then, I shall simply list a few examples. His framework is based upon the interaction of negative liberties to create positive liberties. He has the practicality of an adult and the idealism of a child. He has had to put up with quite a bit of crap, yet his principles and optimism don't seem compromised. He actually cares about his grades and plans to ace CHEM 182L.
Évariste, of course, is not perfect. However, he believes in self-improvement and constantly works towards it, sometimes grounded in theory, sometimes applying the scientific method. There is none of the childish "take me as I am or leave me" attitude as with Perscheux. No; instead, the attitude is, "I want to change for the better, and you can be my external pressure."
I am still not sure exactly why I trust Évariste. All I know is that I have suffered no loss of liberty, individuality, respect, integrity, or anything else that I cherish. In other words, I have become attached to Évariste without becoming detached in the slightest from my sense of self. I have effectively entered into a relationship while upholding the Vow of Nienna, if one reads from the Vow only its core meaning.
This is no more a problem of economics and opportunity cost. The question of What have I gained? What have I lost? is now invalid. I have lost nothing. And as for what I have gained, well...
Évariste once told me that he would die for love, republicanism, and maths. I interpret this statement very liberally. I think that love consists of not only his affection for me but also his search for Truth, Light, and Purpose, quite separate from the notion of religion. To me, republicanism means not only his resentment of the French monarchy but rather all of his principles and values, upon which he builds an upright and respectable character. And maths refers not only to group theory but also to his admirable intellect, his passion for just about all fields of knowledge, and his insatiable desire to learn.
Love, republicanism, and maths. What more could I possibly ask for in a man?
The original vow of Nienna, preserved intact after having been removed from my file folder.For the record
Yes, I am about to list my favourites and least favourites. Yes, I do this at the beginning of every major journal-keeping undertaking. Yes, I know this is not particularly interesting. Which is why I will try to make it more so by expanding on what would normally be a simple list. And I'm cutting out the silly ones like "least favourite country". Alors...
LANGUAGE
Préférée: If that doesn't say it all... c'est bien ça, le français!
Least favourite: Spoken Korean annoys me immensely for some reason.
CITY
Favourite: Nice is absolutely charming. And the tram is 1337. And Nice-Étoile is elegant despite being damn expensive. Okay, I'll stop taunting all of you.
Least favourite: Out of the ones I've been to, Buffalo. Then again, I haven't seen South Portland yet...
NAME
Favourite: For females, we have a clear winner: Aurore. For males, we have Évariste and Émile.
Least favourite: I have issues with certain African-American names (Tanisha), certain concept names (Charity, Felicity, etc.; this may seem contradictory since I like Hope and Liberty), explicitly religions names (Christian), and overused names (especially Mary). Mimi does not fall into any of these categories but irritates me nevertheless.
WORD
Favourite: Liberté (what else?!). In second place is volonté.
Least favourite: Hmm... sanctity. These days, it seems to me that it's an empty word used as an emotion-grabber and connotation-inducer... as in "sanctity of life" (d'après Ron Paul et al). Also, you know I'm atheist.
FOOD: MEAT
Favourite: Chicken heart kabobs at that Changchun kabob restaurant. No contest. This also qualifies as my favourite food of all time, since meat generally trumps everything else, carnivore that I am.
Least favourite: Generally, my philosophy is: "If it's meat, it's good." But I suppose if it's absolutely bland and/or prepared in a style I don't like, I won't have much of a taste for it. Oh, and I don't eat anything less than well done.
FOOD: VEGETABLE
Favourite: "Fuzzy beans"—I read their actual name in a magazine once, but I have since forgotten. I think it starts with an E.
Least favourite: "Yellow flower vegetable"—once again, I don't know the real name. This used to be cabbage, but my mother has been unearthing more and more unpalatable vegetables...
FOOD: FRUIT
Favourite: This is a tough call. I love certain kinds of peaches and hate other kinds. I also like cherries, but only if they're big, sweet, at just the right ripeness, and flawless in terms of bumps and scratches. Fussy fussy.
Least favourite: Banana held this infamous position for the longest time until my potassium deficiency and my laziness (it's so easy to peel a banana, and your hands don't get messy and citrusy!) reversed that. So... persimmons are pretty yucky.
DRINK
Favourite: Another hard one, since it varies widely depending on mood. On some days it's green plum juice, on others it's sparkling apple cidre, and sometimes I get a craving for really good lemonade (like the kind at Panera).
Least favourite: I HATE milk. Any kind, really, but if I had to choose the worst kind, it would be unflavoured warm whole milk. Thank pattern algorithms for calcium supplements.
ANIMAL
Favourite: Shall it be cats or tigers? Toygers!
Least favourite: Anything small that crawls, creeps, or scuttles. Somehow the ones that fly aren't that bad... except the cicadas in 2004.
NUMBER
Favourite: 7. As Évariste would be prompt to point out, it's prime.
Least favourite: I don't really despise any numbers, but I suppose things with lots of 4's in them... DEATH!
COLOUR
Favourite: (In this order) red, blue, white, silver... the correlation between these colours and those of a French flag soaked in unicorn blood is not coincidental... well, except for the unicorn blood.
Least favourite: Most shades of green. Ask me about the 2006 World Cup. Prepare to die if you support the country who has replaced the liberty stripe with a green one. (Okay, I'm not that hardcore anymore. But I didn't like green to begin with, and the post-2006 World Cup reaction has made recoiling from green things quite instinctive. Sorry, plants.)
PLANT
Favourite: Roses, especially red, pink, and white. I'm such a romantic, I know.
Least favourite: For all practical purposes (considering the minuteness of my chance of consuming a strychnine tree), poison ivy. I'm still not fully convinced that I am in the lucky 15% who are not allergic...
HOLIDAY
Favourite: New Year's Eve/Day. Auld Lang Syne in its many renditions also happens to be one of my favourite songs of all time.
Least favourite: Overtly religious holidays aside, I suppose the prize goes to St Patrick's Day, because of the green and the pinching for refusing to wear aforementioned green.
FRIEND
Favourite (best friend): Ah, I call her Grantaire. Grantaire, present yourself!
Least favourite (worst enemy): Perscheux. Runner-up is the person who almost caused Perscheux to kill himself. Strange combination, isn't it?
YEAR
Least favourite (yes, this comes first for a reason that will presently become apparent): 2008. See my first post.
Favourite: 2009. This is audacious, I know. But while the Fates decide what to do with me for so prematurely making that statement... could we please decree that 2009 started on 22 Nov 2008? ^_^
LANGUAGE
Préférée: If that doesn't say it all... c'est bien ça, le français!
Least favourite: Spoken Korean annoys me immensely for some reason.
CITY
Favourite: Nice is absolutely charming. And the tram is 1337. And Nice-Étoile is elegant despite being damn expensive. Okay, I'll stop taunting all of you.
Least favourite: Out of the ones I've been to, Buffalo. Then again, I haven't seen South Portland yet...
NAME
Favourite: For females, we have a clear winner: Aurore. For males, we have Évariste and Émile.
Least favourite: I have issues with certain African-American names (Tanisha), certain concept names (Charity, Felicity, etc.; this may seem contradictory since I like Hope and Liberty), explicitly religions names (Christian), and overused names (especially Mary). Mimi does not fall into any of these categories but irritates me nevertheless.
WORD
Favourite: Liberté (what else?!). In second place is volonté.
Least favourite: Hmm... sanctity. These days, it seems to me that it's an empty word used as an emotion-grabber and connotation-inducer... as in "sanctity of life" (d'après Ron Paul et al). Also, you know I'm atheist.
FOOD: MEAT
Favourite: Chicken heart kabobs at that Changchun kabob restaurant. No contest. This also qualifies as my favourite food of all time, since meat generally trumps everything else, carnivore that I am.
Least favourite: Generally, my philosophy is: "If it's meat, it's good." But I suppose if it's absolutely bland and/or prepared in a style I don't like, I won't have much of a taste for it. Oh, and I don't eat anything less than well done.
FOOD: VEGETABLE
Favourite: "Fuzzy beans"—I read their actual name in a magazine once, but I have since forgotten. I think it starts with an E.
Least favourite: "Yellow flower vegetable"—once again, I don't know the real name. This used to be cabbage, but my mother has been unearthing more and more unpalatable vegetables...
FOOD: FRUIT
Favourite: This is a tough call. I love certain kinds of peaches and hate other kinds. I also like cherries, but only if they're big, sweet, at just the right ripeness, and flawless in terms of bumps and scratches. Fussy fussy.
Least favourite: Banana held this infamous position for the longest time until my potassium deficiency and my laziness (it's so easy to peel a banana, and your hands don't get messy and citrusy!) reversed that. So... persimmons are pretty yucky.
DRINK
Favourite: Another hard one, since it varies widely depending on mood. On some days it's green plum juice, on others it's sparkling apple cidre, and sometimes I get a craving for really good lemonade (like the kind at Panera).
Least favourite: I HATE milk. Any kind, really, but if I had to choose the worst kind, it would be unflavoured warm whole milk. Thank pattern algorithms for calcium supplements.
ANIMAL
Favourite: Shall it be cats or tigers? Toygers!
Least favourite: Anything small that crawls, creeps, or scuttles. Somehow the ones that fly aren't that bad... except the cicadas in 2004.
NUMBER
Favourite: 7. As Évariste would be prompt to point out, it's prime.
Least favourite: I don't really despise any numbers, but I suppose things with lots of 4's in them... DEATH!
COLOUR
Favourite: (In this order) red, blue, white, silver... the correlation between these colours and those of a French flag soaked in unicorn blood is not coincidental... well, except for the unicorn blood.
Least favourite: Most shades of green. Ask me about the 2006 World Cup. Prepare to die if you support the country who has replaced the liberty stripe with a green one. (Okay, I'm not that hardcore anymore. But I didn't like green to begin with, and the post-2006 World Cup reaction has made recoiling from green things quite instinctive. Sorry, plants.)
PLANT
Favourite: Roses, especially red, pink, and white. I'm such a romantic, I know.
Least favourite: For all practical purposes (considering the minuteness of my chance of consuming a strychnine tree), poison ivy. I'm still not fully convinced that I am in the lucky 15% who are not allergic...
HOLIDAY
Favourite: New Year's Eve/Day. Auld Lang Syne in its many renditions also happens to be one of my favourite songs of all time.
Least favourite: Overtly religious holidays aside, I suppose the prize goes to St Patrick's Day, because of the green and the pinching for refusing to wear aforementioned green.
FRIEND
Favourite (best friend): Ah, I call her Grantaire. Grantaire, present yourself!
Least favourite (worst enemy): Perscheux. Runner-up is the person who almost caused Perscheux to kill himself. Strange combination, isn't it?
YEAR
Least favourite (yes, this comes first for a reason that will presently become apparent): 2008. See my first post.
Favourite: 2009. This is audacious, I know. But while the Fates decide what to do with me for so prematurely making that statement... could we please decree that 2009 started on 22 Nov 2008? ^_^
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