καὶ ἡμᾶς ἂν σώσειεν

Every time, without fail, during finals I have this two weeks of total panic. It's not necessarily panic about projects and papers, at least not explicitly. In fact, it's obviously about that but that's not what I focus it on. Rather, I feel panicked that I'm totally wasting my life. I mean, learning about Hell is fun, for sure, but what does it really matter? That is, who does it help? It doesn't cure cancer. It's not building better cities. It doesn't even make lots of money.


So what I am doing? Enjoying myself, sure. Making myself feel less freakish and alone. And, eventually, maybe I'll be able to teach some of this to other people and make them love it. But that does seem minor, doesn't it?

Then, of course, Plato comes to my rescue. In my Greek class, we were reading a little selection adapted from the Republic. Socrates says, "And thus, my dear Glaucon, the story is saved and it will save us if we believe it."

And just there, I remembered why I care about these sorts of things. Stories save us. Whether you buy into eternal salvation or just a humanist approach, stories are at the core. The stories we read, the stories we hear, the stories we create. All of it is story. And there are people who hold onto these stories. And I want to be one of them.

Oh, no, please, go ahead.

I have this conversation at least once a day.


"So, what are you studying?"
"Religious studies."
"Oh, interesting. Like all religions or do you have a specific emphasis?"
"Not right now. But I'm hoping to do graduate school in religion and literature and probably drift towards popular culture and religion. Mostly newer forms of Christianity, too"

And then the person goes on to tell me about the axe they have to grind in regards to religion. Or a religion. Or God. It's like the mere mention of religion makes people feel like they can unload on me. I don't mind it, mostly because nothing is expected of me and, often, I can see they have some sort of point. But still.

I imagine this will only get worse as time goes on. Though, I guess it could be worse. I could be expected to give out free medical, legal or tax advice. So maybe nodding while someone tells me that organized religion is the worst idea man has ever come up with isn't too much to endure.

My secret shame

I'm not a foodie. Not even close. I like the taste of things like Cheetos and peanut M&Ms way too much and I sort of think it's ridiculous to tuck into a meal that looks more like an exaggerated Easter hat than food. Don't get me wrong. I like tasty things very much. It's just that I can't really seem to care that chocolate A is made from beans that only grow once every 4,000 years and were roasted with nothing more than the thought power of Buddhist monks. The effort put into listening to such descriptions almost makes me lose my appetite.

That said, I can't really just admit that I'll eat anything. Because I do need to keep my snob cred up. So, what it boils down to is that I make fancy-ish things when I have people over for dinner and when I'm alone, I eat a meal of plain, cheap spaghetti. Or, and here's really the point, an entire can of this:




That's right. I love Dinty Moore stew. I'm ashamed to admit this. I mean, even the can alone calls up images of flannel-wearing yokels who can't even be bothered to use a can-opener and so need a pop top instead. It's weird that this would be the limits of my shame. I'm fine telling people I love cheap tuna (instead of Albacore white), or that baking with margarine doesn't make *that* much difference in a lot of things. But, telling people I like cheap beef stew is, apparently, too much.

Until now. Now you all know. And I'm not going to be embarrassed by it any more. And I'm not even going to go on to defend myself by telling you the ingredients and how maybe it's not such a bad food item after all*. I'm just going to let you all know: I had Dinty Moore stew for dinner a couple of nights ago. And I loved it.

*Oh, some of you want to know, don't you? Well, here they are: Beef Gravy (Water, Beef, Tomatoes [Water, Tomato Paste], Corn Flour, Salt, Modified Cornstarch, Caramel Color, Sugar, Flavoring), Potatoes, Beef, Carrots.. See? Other than supicious "flavoring" and sugar, it's all real food! I had no idea.

Things I have a crush on


1. This:Thanks, Helvetica, you're the best.

2. Actually, her name's Marina. And she quotes Yoda.

3. The idea of anise-flavored seven minute frosting. But, I am still (sadly) seeking a vehicle for it.

4. Clytemnestra. Yeah, the woman who killed her husband, Agamemnon. I'm pretty sure she's a tragic hero. And c'mon, Aggie had it coming.

5. Ties. Wearing one every day is the Best. New. Years. Resolution. Ever.

6. Misquoting Lady Gaga's sketchily attributed quote that "Art is a lie. And I kill every day to make it true."

A caveat

If you're the kind of person who needs a consistent flow to your conversation, the kind of person who holds no truck with digressions, under no circumstances should you ever accept a group chat invitation involving me, ke, and Annie. It will drive you to the brink.