Playing the pregnant card? PERFECT.


Not me. Nancy Botwin. Who are YOU?!?

Bwahahaha.

No, seriously now. Things are much clearer now. <sing> I can see clearly now, the rain has gone... Someone is waiting cool as Sarah, easy and loving as Susan, Jenny... </sing>

Brought out the bicycle today to ride to Skylers and finish Season Four of Weeds... Now I have to wait another year for Season Five to come out on DVD so I can watch Weeds again. Were I not a poor college student, I would have Showtime. Would that I were rich.

Went to the Ampitheatre again last night with a different crowd. Adam, Daniel, and I got into a Shakespeare competition. That is, we did monologue after monologue for each other - just goofing around. I started my Hamlet, then stopped a line in, because I decided it was too personal for play. I am thinking about Hamlet auditions every day, and they are a semester away!

Another thing I think about everyday is Playwriting. I'm researching Grad Schools, studying the GRE (Well, not really - but the Baron's book is on my desk), and writing.

Mom gave me her minivan - the '91 toyota. She bought a prius.

Maybe I'll take a year off after graduating and travel around in the minivan... Put a matress in the back... tint the windows... All that jazz. Thoughts?

What are the laws against sleeping in minivans?

I walked into Main Street Coffee bar with a heavy weight on my shoulders; do a selfless act and write an essay about it. I ordered my coffee, a tall café Durant, and took a seat at the tall table near the main door to the dive bar. The Flobot’s “Handlebars” played softly over the sound system, and an old woman sitting two tables to my left complained about the ‘noise’.

“I hate this song,” she began. “Rap isn’t music.”

I shared a look of disgust with the barista. “Actually, rap is music,” I objected quietly to myself. The barista obliged the woman and changed the song for her to Kermit the Frog’s rendition of “The Rainbow Connection”.

I spread a plethora of works before me; the words of Neitzche, Kant, and Bentham and the wisdom from the Dalai Lama and Plato. Orange and blue highlighted lines jumped out of the page at me, but still no inspiration… Who knew that acting selflessly was so difficult? And then it came to me. There is no selfless act that I am capable of. If I am “acting selflessly” to fulfill a requirement for an essay, I am not acting selflessly. According to Kant, my act is not moral because I am thinking about consequences. If I don’t do a selfless act, I cannot write a paper for Philosophy, and if I don’t write a paper, my grade might suffer. To be moral, my categorical imperative must be pure. The deontological approach also argues my act is not moral, because my maxim only uses other people as a means to an end.

While pondering this approach, an old woman interrupted my thought process to ask me for a pen. Hurried to get back to my work, I held up my Uni-ball Vision Needle at her. She struggled to stand slowly and retrieve it. Exasperated and desperate to get back to my work, I quickly stood to bring it to her. I met her more than halfway across the floor and handed her my pen. She explained how she needed the exercise, but didn’t have her cane with her. She scribbled a name down on the back of a business card. Then she returned the pen to my hand, thanked me, and returned to her own table near the wall. As she hobbled to her table, I was surprised to notice my genuine happiness at aiding her. My compassion for this woman became sincere. On her way out the door she thanked me again for my pen. “Anytime,” I replied genuinely. She walked toward the door at a snail's pace. I stood without hesitation and opened the door for the woman.

“My name is Ethel,” she told me as she left.

“Rebecca.” I replied. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ethel.”

Moments later, I was writing with fervor about the experience. The Dalai Lama states “When our intentions toward others are good, we find that any feelings of shyness or insecurity we may have are greatly reduced.  To the extent that we are able to open this inner door, we experience a sense of liberation from our habitual preoccupation with self.  Paradoxically, we find this gives rise to strong feelings of confidence” (75). In my instance, my actions to Ethel cleared the fog for my mind to think clearly about my paper. I was insecure about what to write about, but after meeting Ethel, I regained confidence. I didn’t treat Ethel as a means to an end. I wasn’t helping her purely to write my essay, I was helping her because it was the right thing to do. My intention was pure, and my experience verifies the Dalai Lama's specific, as well as overall, philosophical message.

The struggle for me was to relate to Ethel. To overcome this, I began to notice that “If we can begin to relate to others on the basis of equanimity, our compassion will not depend of the fact that so-and-so is my husband, my wife, my relative, my friend. Rather, a feeling of closeness toward all others can be developed based on the simple recognition that, just like myself, all wish to be happy and avoid suffering”. We’re all connected on some level. Though Ethel and I had opposite views on music, we were both women trying to overcome a handicap. Her handicap may have been physical, while mine was psychological, but we were still connected by the concept of dependent origination as defined by the Dalai Lama. This is to say that “no thing or event can be construed as capable of coming into, or remaining in, existence by itself. […] all phenomena can be understood as dependently originated because, when we analyze them, we find that, ultimately, they lack independent identity”. I fought to be independent of Ethel, but could not succeed. My compassion for her was complex and intrinsically linked, even though we didn’t know each other. “We tend to reserve [loving-kindness] for those closest to us. We are biased toward our families and friends”. Yet when I opened the door for her, I didn’t expect anything in return. I will most likely never see her again.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I have found eternal happiness in this, but now I actively seek opportunities to help others. When I reach beyond my own self interest, I can find joy. Ultimately, every human being seeks happiness. So to those who say I’m being as unrealistic as Kermit the Frog singing “The Rainbow Connection”, the Dalai Lama and I both suggest that they do their own experiment. “They will discover that when we reach beyond the confines of narrow self-interest, our hearts become filled with strength. Peace and joy become our constant companion. […] But most important, where love of one’s neighbor, affection, kindness, and compassion live, we find that ethical conduct is automatic”. The completely selfless act comes out of compassion. With this in mind, humanity may be able to find the rainbow connection that Kermit sings about.