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Marianne Nay
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Well, if you say so, perhaps I shall reconsider (Resisting inserting smiley faced doo-da here..). Cyber-nonspace: To zero and beyond! God help us.
Toggle Commented Oct 1, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
I was shocked out of my morning coffee reverie by the sudden suspicion that I'd made a terrible typo in my Tuesday comments. As soon as I could I checked to confirm my idiocy. May a thousand fists strike my hollow head. Elicit, not illicit. Elicit, not illicit. Illicit is nonsensical. I know that. There are two reasons I've never commented on a blog until now: 1) It requires self-publishing without an editing function, a sure recipe for orthographical and grammatical silliness, and 2) One never quite knows how one's comments were taken, if they were read much at all anyway... And for good measure, I would also point to the awesome strangeness of all these disembodied personalities making unceasing ado over the vast sea of ado produced by millions more disembodied personalities. It's all a bit overwhelming. Talking to everyone, talking to no one. I'm considering terminating my incredibly brief career as a blog commenter. Probably it all boils down to Pride. I don't like the public-ish nature of it. Too easily humiliated. And email has the opposite flaw: it's creepily hyper-private. Oh, the modern world! At least we can listen to Bach's St. Matthew Passion over and over again on these charming sound-projecting devices. Technology's single incontestable victory. Again, apologies for taking up so much of your e-space, Father Jonathan. I feel like a little child with an attention complex.
Toggle Commented Oct 1, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
Ack! Sorry for posting these terribly long comments twice. I didn't notice the little page-turning arrow at the bottom, and assumed my post hadn't gone through. Apologies!
Toggle Commented Sep 28, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
...Continued. Trillions of dollars of debt, you say? Shrugs all around. It will never elicit more fear than a vicious fairy-tale ogre. In fact, don't be surprised if, when it is time for my peers to govern the nation, the debt is declared to be non-existent, a figment of our predecessors' money-obsessed imaginations. For, as you surely know, my generation cares naught for such evil things as money. We like music and art and love and friends and traveling and talking and cooking and sharing. Sure all of this stuff is now bought and sold with this thing called money, but that doesn't mean anything. I don't really know where I'm going with this except to say that things are bad and going to get more bad, and fie on those who deny it. I foresee an age spilling over with depression, vice and buffoonery of all kinds. Who will maintain the thin veneer of societal cohesion? Whoever the "bosses" of presidents and legislators are. A sort and set whose faces we will never know. For our part, my fiance and I plan to go primitive, inasmuch as we are able. Live in, on and off a snip of land that we can cherish and pass on, and so forth. If I weren't engaged, monasticism would appear to be the only other conceivable option. Outside a very solid home or monastery, the name of Jesus is parody-fodder. I need to be a place where pronouncing the name of God doesn't cause embarrassment, anger and confusion. I do not expect my peers to spend their lives establishing such havens. Such rambling! Forgive me!
Toggle Commented Sep 28, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
Thanks, Father, for the compliments! In all seriousness, though, I often wonder whether I so eagerly seek out these memorable little turns in order to feed my ever ravenous vanity. I mean, most people my age write with the sense and aplomb of a rutting animal (unnecessarily harsh probably, but it always seems to be getting worse), so for as long as I can remember it's been a chief source of pride to me that I somehow escaped the disease. In college I was particularly likely to cave to prideful compliment-mongering; every writing assignment equaled an opportunity to show off. It was dangerous. Continued involvement in academia would have seen me totally chewed up by vanity. In my current life as an administrative assistant (in the language of old, a secretary), however, I may be on a path to reform. Toiling in obscurity is the way to go, I think. And also to pray constantly that God preserve me from pride. You paint an ominous picture of the future, Father, and I am very much inclined to agree with it. I am only 23 years old, and my fiance is slightly younger. We fully expect the world to further embrace its darkest addictions and follies during our lifetime. Only a deep conviction that the Lord loves humanity and, especially, every individual human, keeps us from despairing at what we imagine is a taste, or foretaste, of the end of things. How can one even begin to identify the myriad traps set for my generation, caught as we collectively are in the merging of a soft and expanding adolescence with the farcical modern concept of adulthood. The paradigm for what it means to be grown-up today seems to be quite established in the millennial mind: it means one has passed from the age of being given what children are generally thought to need (food, shelter, education, affirmation and entertainment), into the age where one is at last permitted to decide all things for oneself, and to acquire or achieve said things....
Toggle Commented Sep 28, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
..Continued. I don't really know where I'm going with this except to say that things are bad and going to get more bad, and fie on those who deny it. I foresee an age spilling over with depression, vice and buffoonery of all kinds. Who will maintain the thin veneer of societal cohesion? Whoever the "bosses" of presidents and legislators are. A sort and set whose faces we will never know. For our part, my fiance and I plan to go primitive, inasmuch as we are able. Live in, on and off a snip of land that we can cherish and pass on, and so forth. If I weren't engaged, monasticism would appear to be the only other conceivable option. Outside a very solid home or monastery, the name of Jesus is parody-fodder. I need to be a place where pronouncing the name of God doesn't cause embarrassment, anger and confusion. I do not expect my peers to spend their lives establishing such havens. Such rambling! Forgive me!
Toggle Commented Sep 28, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
Thanks, Father, for the compliments! In all seriousness, though, I often wonder whether I so eagerly seek out these memorable little turns in order to feed my ever ravenous vanity. I mean, most people my age write with the sense and aplomb of a rutting animal (unnecessarily harsh probably, but it always seems to be getting worse), so for as long as I can remember it's been a chief source of pride to me that I somehow escaped the disease. In college I was particularly likely to cave to prideful compliment-mongering; every writing assignment equaled an opportunity to show off. It was dangerous. Continued involvement in academia would have seen me totally chewed up by vanity. In my current life as an administrative assistant (in the language of old, a secretary), however, I may be on a path to reform. Toiling in obscurity is the way to go, I think. And also to pray constantly that God preserve me from pride. You paint an ominous picture of the future, Father, and I am very much inclined to agree with it. I am only 23 years old, and my fiance is slightly younger. We fully expect the world to further embrace its darkest addictions and follies during our lifetime. Only a deep conviction that the Lord loves humanity and, especially, every individual human, keeps us from despairing at what we imagine is a taste, or foretaste, of the end of things. How can one even begin to identify the myriad traps set for my generation, caught as we collectively are in the merging of a soft and expanding adolescence with the farcical modern concept of adulthood. The paradigm for what it means to be grown-up today seems to be quite established in the millennial mind: it means one has passed from the age of being given what children are generally thought to need (food, shelter, education, affirmation and entertainment), into the age where one is at last permitted to decide all things for oneself, and to acquire or achieve said things. Trillions of dollars of debt, you say? Shrugs all around. It will never illicit more fear than a vicious fairy-tale ogre. In fact, don't be surprised if, when it is time for my peers to govern the nation, the debt is declared to be non-existent, a figment of our predecessors' money-obsessed imaginations. For, as you surely know, my generation cares naught for such evil things as money. We like music and art and love and friends and traveling and talking and cooking and sharing. Sure all of this stuff is now bought and sold with this thing called money, but that doesn't mean anything....
Toggle Commented Sep 28, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace
Dear Fr. Jonathan, I feel bound by fundamental etiquette to thank you for providing me with the phrase "Nanny Marketplace." I intend to use it as often as I find myself entangled in the aimless nation-wide pseudo-political pseudo-discussion that one cannot be assiduous enough in avoiding. It somehow perfectly encapsulates the fact that one might effect more Change and Hope by turning off one's gadgets than by signing up for every latest political revolution e-mail listing (and, more importantly, go some way to restoring Hope to its proper status as a virtue, i.e. an anti-slogan). I graduated to voting age during the height of the Kerry-Bush mudfest. From this great epoch in our nation's history I especially recall the desperate entreaties of a certain partisan of MTV: "Vote or Die!" To my millennial generation civic duty had never been so sexy and thrilling. So off to the slot machine/voting both we went. Gay marriage! (Pull) Cha-ching! War is bad! (Pull) Cha-ching! Impeach Bush! Cha-ching! For some, of course, the battle cries sounded different, but the intent was in all cases to participate with full glitz in fashioning America to resemble one's personal idea of Pleasure Island. It has been disheartening, to say the least, to realize that the great majority of political rhetoric today promotes this Civic Slot Machine view of voting. In a way we should be grateful, for now we have been thoroughly disabused of the notion that the world as we have it is going to be reconciled with the Truth. Our battles as Christians are not with our so-called enemies, but with the enemy of all, and our hero is not political figure X but Christ Himself. The rest is just diversion and fantasy. Keep up the writing, Father. It is a blessing to us.
Toggle Commented Sep 28, 2009 on Yet at Second Terrace