KevinD

Interesting question. I know there have been a number of discussions about the legal/ethical issues of naming businesses, bands, musical works, etc., after AR's characters. But naming yourself? That's a new one . . . My thought is this: If you don't like your name, and don't think it suits you, then by all means change it. But you need to have your own name. "Hugh Akston" is already taken. To the extent that you are an admirer of Ayn Rand, you're an individualist. You don't really want to be Hugh Akston, or John Galt, or Howard Roark, or anybody else. You want to be YOU.

What kind of advice are you seeking? Confirmation that being an obnoxious, insensitive brat is somehow in line with Objectivism? Based on what you wrote, either this guy has no idea what honesty actually means — or he's deliberately twisting it into a rationalization for some truly revolting, anti-social behavior. There's no "commandment" in Objectivism which says that a person must always speak his mind in any and every situation. The virtue of honesty doesn't mean announcing one's assessment of everything one encounters, regardless of other people's feelings or other negative consequences that may result. Honesty is a corollary of rationality: Rationality is the recognition of reality, and honesty is the refusal to fake reality. By "reality," I don't mean merely one narrow aspect or fact of reality, but all relevant facts pertaining to a given situation; the full context, as we Objectivists are fond of saying. To drop this context, and to act blindly, without cognizance or concern for the consequences of one's actions, is about as irrational — and dishonest — as you can get. Well he's been a monumental jerk toward you — what does that tell you? More importantly, though, is this kind of behavior OK with you? You said yourself that he's not going to change — while at the same time saying that you love him very much, and even want to move in with him. Again, what kind of advice are you looking for? Are you hoping to hear that the problem is not with him, but with you? Do you want someone to tell you that if you just keep reading Ayn Rand, eventually you'll come to see why attacking and insulting the values of one's romantic partner is perfectly wonderful? Do you want someone to say that you're just going through a minor rough patch, that everything will work out, and that the two of you will live happily ever after? Are you really seeking advice at all — or are you just trying to express and make sense of a lot of very mixed-up feelings right now? You say that you recently celebrated a one-year "anniversary" with this guy — yet he has only recently come to see you for the first time, and in fact lives on the other side of the continent. How much time have the two of you spent together, in each other's actual physical presence, over the last year? How many different, real-life activities have you engaged in together? Or has this been a relationship conducted primarily through Instant Messages, E-mail, and perhaps the occasional phone call? I have a sneaking feeling you know exactly what your problem is: You don't really know this guy, and you've recently had to face that fact in a very unpleasant way. Yet you feel like you're in love with him. You WANT to be in love with him. His behavior not only hurts and offends you, it shocks and worries you — he never acted this way in your fantasies. There's a conflict going on in your mind between who he is, and what you've imagined him to be. Be honest yourself: If your guy had exhibited this kind of behavior on a first date, would there have been a second?

Richard: A few things to keep in mind with Anime: 1. Anime scripts are translated from another language. Most translators are not very artful; translated lines are often awkward and very literal. Consequently, they tend to be difficult to act because they sound so unnatural. I've done sessions with translated scripts that were nearly incoherent, often with the director telling me (in broken English) to feel free to "change" anything that I don't think sounds right — much more easily said than done, not to mention not what I've been hired for! 2. Anime is dubbed, meaning that the actors in the studio are watching a screen and trying to match their words to the finished picture. This can be extremely tricky, especially when the character's mouths were animated for another language. (With most other animation, the voices are recorded first.) Anime recording sessions are primarily a technical endeavor, often long and grueling, with actors recording their parts individually, and each line a separate "take." 3. Last but not least: Despite the extra demands on the actor, most Anime voiceover jobs pay shockingly poorly. And in this business, you really do get what you pay for. Add it all up, and you have amateur voice artists struggling to match awkward, out-of-context lines to mouths that were once speaking Japanese. I've heard it said that Anime is a way for aspiring voiceover actors to break in to the field. I'm not sure I agree. If you're a hard-core fan of the genre, you might want to look into it. Otherwise, I'd advise sticking to less headache-inducing types of v.o., at least when you're just starting out.

I'll be teaching a Saturday-morning voiceover class in Los Angeles, April 9 - 30th. The focus will be on HUMOR! For the voiceover artist, a good sense of humor — and the ability to use it skillfully — is an invaluable asset. Most commercials on TV and radio are comedic, not to mention animated movies, TV shows and webtoons! We'll talk about what humor is, how to use humor to bring your performance to life, creating fun characters with your voice, and lots more. Please see my website for more info. Class size is very limited, so don't delay! www.captain-transistor.com

As Tommy Chong used to say: "FAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR out, man!"

Ayn Rand, The Virtue of Selfishness, New York: New American Library, 1964 (The essay originally appeared in The Objectivist Newsletter, Sept. 1963.)

Re: Tom L's post above It's generally my policy not to respond to this kind of objection (i.e., citing an actual relationship as a counterargument to something I've said), since it amounts to a challenge to comment on and refute the relationship — which I obviously can't, nor would I want to do. That said, I will say that in my view, romantic communication is much more than merely the exchange of ideas — and physical affection is far from the only reason why romantic partners (or potential partners) would want to be in each other's immediate proximity. Moreover, I would like to hear one single WOMAN on this forum agree that communicating with a romantic candidate — or anyone, for that matter — via fax or email is at all comparable to being with the person, and experiencing him or her in person. I recently spoke at length about my views on long-distance relationships in an audio interview, which I plan to make available on my website shortly.

I don't agree that that it necessarily means this at all. You could point to any number of uses of the term — I'm thinking in particular of AR's definition of rationality as "the recognition and acceptance of reason . . ." — to demonstrate that this is not so. "Accept" in this context is entirely . . . acceptable.

[i wrote this post yesterday, but didn't have a chance to proofread it until this morning. Jennifer Snow, in the meantime, has stolen much of my thunder (as usual), but here it is anyway . . .] I can't imagine worse advice — or a worse attitude toward romantic love — than this. Someday, should my heart turn cold and my bank account run dry, I'll write a book titled How to Change Him or Her: Transforming Your Significant Other Into the Person You Really Want Them to Be — in Five Easy Steps. It'll sell ten million copies. But until then, I have to tell the simpler and much less popular truth: To love a person means to accept them exactly as they are. In other words: You can't "change" your romantic partner. And you must never, ever try. And yes, guys, this even includes times when you're right and she's wrong. And yes, it's true even when you cloak what you're doing under such language as "teaching" or guiding or helping — or sweetly, innocently nudging her in the right direction. If it's not "accepting," then forget it; it has no place in romantic love. In fact, I would even say that if you can't actively respect and admire your partner for her choices and decisions, then at the very least you don't have a full, mature romantic relationship. And without that crucial element of acceptance, I guarantee you never will. You can't love a person with reservations. You can't love selected parts of a person, nor can you love a potential person. You can only love the entire person, as he or she is right now. Not to accept your partner in this way means that you don't view your partner fully as an equal. He or she is deficient in something; he or she isn't "good enough" — yet — and you, naturally, are the savior with the solution. To whatever extent you're "fixing" your partner, you're not relating to him or her as an equal. You're treating your partner like a child. At best, this breeds resentment. At worst, should your partner go along with it, you've got the makings of a dependency problem. Either way, you both lose. It's a very bitter pill to swallow for a lot of people, and people fight it in every way imaginable: Romantic love is between equals. And to be "equals" in this context means to be able relate to one another as equals. Not as teacher to student, or as parent to child, but as two complete, mature, independent adults. The #1 objection to this, and the hallmark of the person who doesn't "get it" is: "But . . . what if he/she really needs to be fixed?" To which I would say: OK, fine. Fix, teach, convert, rescue, change away — only make sure you're doing so with the other party's full knowledge and enthusiastic consent, and withdraw from further romantic involvement until your mission is complete.

This individual is taxing my benevolence, but for the benefit of the younger members of this forum, the fallacy of the "frozen abstraction" means substituting a particular concrete for the wider abstract class to which it belongs. To hold a frozen abstraction means, not failing to relate your abstractions to reality, but tying an abstraction to only ONE instance of it — and then treating the abstraction as if it were this particular concrete. Miss Rand gives the example of equating "morality" with altruism. (See "Collectivized Ethics," VOS) Of course altruism is a morality, but it's not "morality." The broader the abstraction, the wider the range of possibilities it subsumes. This is true for abstractions in general, and for abstract values as they relate to one's life. It's why, as I say, one needs to be flexible and open to possibilities in one's career — able to "roll with changes" — not mentally locked in to just one terribly specific option. Acapier doesn't like this, and seems to think that Ayn Rand advocated otherwise. He's apparently unaware that Miss Rand essentially switched careers herself — from that of a screenwriter and novelist, to that of an essayist and lecturer — upon completing Atlas Shrugged and deciding that the prospect of writing more fiction was no longer interesting to her. She didn't become a longshoreman, of course, but her career values were flexible enough to allow her find another line of work which was fulfilling to her, and which made sense given her talents and interests. Presumably, under the view that Acapier is espousing, if once upon a time a person decided that his career was to be that of "buggy manufacturer," he should have relentlessly pursued this line of work, even after it became clear that the automobile industry had rendered this particular occupation permanently obsolete. If that's not a case of failing to relate one's abstractions to concrete reality, I don't know what would be.

The key here is to remember that while values most certainly do exist in a hierarchy, they also exist in context. No value is ever a value out of context. While it's perfectly proper to say that one's career is one's highest value, that doesn't mean that one pursues it to the exclusion of everything else in one's life. To put it another way: one's career is one's top value — but it's not the only important value, and shouldn't be treated as such. It's fairly easy to talk about values such as career and romantic love in the abstract sense, and to rank their relative importance in human life. What's not so easy is to translate these values (and this hierarchy) into real-life choices and actions; to make decisions, while keeping the full context of one's life and other values in mind. It's a very common error to hold "frozen abstractions" — that is, to treat an abstraction as if it were a concrete — such as viewing productive work in terms of a specific career, or viewing one's "career" in terms of a specific job. The fact is that a career can often encompass a range of possibilities, if one is flexible and open to them. One of the hallmarks of a person with a good sense of values is that he doesn't get locked in to just one option. He's able to roll with changes. He isn't thrown into a tailspin when the company he's worked for for the last twenty years goes out of business — in fact, in this day and age, he's not even likely to be working for the same company (or even the same job) for that long. He's constantly looking to better himself; he's willing to consider the new, the untried, even the risky. But he can only do this to the degree that he's open to new possibilities; to the degree that he can "think outside the box," and recognize and seize opportunities as they come up. A person who is locked into that one option — a person who holds super-concrete values, and pursues super-concrete goals — is not a passionate valuer by a long shot. That's a person whose sense of values is really quite primitive, and whose values have likely long ago gone stale. I would say that if one were to move to an area where the only job one could get is flipping burgers (assuming one was qualified for much more) — with little or no chance of ever being able to obtain a better, more suitable job — and that one did this merely to be in the proximity of the person one loves — then yes, I would most definitely consider this to be a sacrifice. It's also an exceedingly suspicious scenario. In addition to the extreme implausibility of the projected employment situation, given everything I know about romantic relationships, both conceptually and statistically, I'd have very serious doubts about someone who said that he'd found "love" 3,000 miles away. With all due respect to those who claim to be carrying on passionate romances via telephone and Instant Messages, I don't see how it's possible for two people to reach the point of being able to say that they're truly in love — that they have an actual romantic relationship worth packing up and moving to another city to pursue — without regularly having been in each other's presence, and developing that relationship in person, over a fairly long period of time. It's not that people don't do this all the time — they do, and with varying degrees of disaster. Love may conquer a lot, but it hasn't yet mastered this one. But let's say that we're living in a science fiction novel, and that interplanetary love does indeed exist. In this case, I would say: Why must you move to be with her? Could she not find suitable employment in your area? (And if she made it clear that she wouldn't move to be with you, what would that tell you about her feelings and level of commitment?) Another option would be that you both move to another galaxy, where each of you could find meaningful work. The point is that negotiation and compromise of this kind is essential to a successful romantic relationship, to say nothing of life in general. Of course, it very rarely happens that two people who love each other are simply unable reach a solution — meaning that one or the other would have no choice but to sacrifice him- or herself — in which case the relationship regrettably cannot continue. Fortunately, much more often than not, an acceptable, non-self-sacrificial solution can be found. It just takes imagination and, again, flexibility.

Yes: You're assuming that the only alternative to something being "possible" is that it's "impossible." There is a third alternative: the statement is arbitrary. "Arbitrary" means that for which there is no evidence, either perceptual or conceptual. An arbitrary claim is one which is devoid of cognitive content. If a parrot squawks "two plus two equals four," he is not communicating knowledge. What comes out of his beak is, strictly speaking, neither true nor false — it's just a sound the bird has learned to mimic. Likewise, if 10,000 years ago someone uttered the words: "Water is composed of two hydrogen atoms to one oxygen atom," those around him would properly ask where he even got the concepts of "hydrogen," "oxygen" and "atom," considering that these have not yet been discovered. Lacking any coherent explanation, they would properly conclude that, although his words may one day resemble a legitimate scientific discovery or hypothesis, at the present moment they form an entirely baseless, meaningless, arbitrary assertion — and should be dismissed out of hand without further consideration. Of course, people who lived 10,000 years ago didn't think the H20 formula was either possible or impossible — they didn't think much of anything about it, busy as they were getting civilization started and whatnot. Do read OPAR. It's good for you.

I think you may be taking things a little too literally. In the realm of romantic relationships, people are very fond of asking if certain things are "possible." For example: "Is it possible for former lovers to become friends?" Or: "Could my ex-girlfriend, who ran off with my best buddy, ever come crawling back to me, and we'll live happily ever after?" I'm not a magic 8-ball; I can't predict the future. People have free will, and are known to act in all sorts of ways, rational and irrational. And sometimes — very occasionally — things which would seem to be extremely unlikely or stand an exceedingly small chance of succeeding actually end up working out quite well. And so, in response to such questions, I often begin by saying: "Well, just about anything is 'possible.'" I don't mean, of course, that perhaps tomorrow the sun will rise in the West, or that the ex-girlfriend under discussion might miraculously grow a second head. I'm assuming that the person I'm speaking to is keyed in to reality enough to understand at least generally — metaphysically— what is possible, and am saying that within that context neither I nor anyone else can make any definite statements about what will happen. One can cite statistics, and one can speak of degrees of likelihood. But it's very difficult, outside of the aforementioned metaphysical context, ever to say that something is truly impossible. This does not mean that every "possibility" one can dream up is on equal footing with all others; often far from it. If I asked you if it were possible for Bill Clinton to start telling the truth and become an Objectivist, you'd be hard pressed, strictly speaking, to say that it isn't. You'd also be well within your rights to question why I'm bringing this "possibility" up — and to demand to know what evidence I have to indicate that this is something even worth considering. In any kind of communication, what's most important is not that a person be absolutely, literally correct in every statement he makes, but that the meaning of his words is clear, and is understood by those he's speaking to. 99% of the time, when someone says "anything is possible," he means it in exactly the way I've described here. The only person who wouldn't understand that is someone who's deliberately looking to pick a fight.

I want to point out that when a person gets to the point of saying that "God is everything," he's just a stone's throw away from outright atheism. In the mind of a thinking person, this statement represents a final, desperate attempt to reconcile a belief in God with the Law of Identity; to assign Him some kind of metaphysical status — even a redundant one which only further demonstrates the untenability of the concept. Whether one intends it or not, to say that something is "everything" is to acknowledge that it's nothing. To be means to be something specific — something, as distinguished from the everything all around it. Only one thing is "everything," and that's the universe — or existence itself. Funny thing is that, in a very real way, God is the universe. More precisely, the universe (existence) is God: It's God in the sense that it's the ultimate, the supreme — as well as the starting point: the alpha and the omega — the uncreated, eternal axiom on which all things depend, and by which all things are made possible. (Just think: If existence didn't exist, none of us would be here!) Of course, once you explicitly grasp the axiom of existence, it becomes rather silly to call it "God." Other than the ways I mentioned, existence shares almost none of the attributes and actions commonly ascribed to God. Existence doesn't "create" anything (ex nihilo or otherwise), it doesn't defy logic or ask the irrational of anyone, it doesn't make you sing God-awful hymns on Sunday or spy on you when you're taking a shower, it's unimpressed with sacrifice and self-abnegation, and Lord knows it could give a rat's behind about anybody's prayers. About the only other thing that God and existence have in common is that both exact a toll on those who violate their laws — though one's laws require of man that he open his eyes and use his mind to the best of his ability, while the other demands that man blind himself, debase himself, and place his faith in the eternally unknowable. I know which one I'd rather believe in and worship . . .

You can start by not calling your feelings (and yourself) "stupid." I've heard this sentiment a lot lately, from people both in and out of Objectivism — this wanting to "get rid of" certain feelings, as if painful or inconvenient emotions were enemies to be annihilated and wiped out. The first thing I'd say is that it can't be done. The second is that you would never want to. Feelings are always a good thing. Certain emotions can be painful, or undesirable under certain circumstances, but the fact that one feels is always something to be appreciated and embraced. Our emotions are intimately tied to our values: Feelings indicate that a person is alive and conscious, and is able not just to know, but to experience what things mean to him. Only a living, thinking, valuing being can feel deeply. Of course, a given emotion may be unpleasant to feel, but to do so is infinitely preferably to the opposite problem: that of being numb — of being unable to feel — which unfortunately is a very real issue in the lives of too many people. Yet it's this very kind of emotional deadening that the policy of treating one's feelings as adversaries invariably leads to. Emotions can only be "wiped out" by means of repression — and one cannot spot-repress. One can only throttle one's emotional mechanism, and shut down one's capacity to feel. It's like the alcoholic who starts drinking in order to drown his sorrows, and who ends by drowning his very life itself. A person can change his feelings, but only through a process of acknowledging and examining them. What can be hard is to really experience a feeling while remaining objective and committed to understanding it. Yet you must experience an emotion if you are fully to uncover its meaning and move beyond it. Talking and writing aids immensely in this process; try, as much as possible, to express your thoughts and feelings in complete sentences. Focus not only on how you feel, but how you feel about how you feel: be aware of your responses, positive or negative, to everything you discover about yourself along the way. It's also a good idea to take The Tortured One's advice and stay active and focused on what's really important in your life. Objectivity is always key: Remember that there's a whole universe of opportunity that exists outside of your own momentary experience. Spend time connecting with your inner world, but always remember that you have to live in the outer world. Beyond that, I would just say that ideally what happens after a breakup is not that a person loses his feelings for the other, but that the feelings gradually diminish in intensity and move out of one's immediate awareness. To the extent that a relationship was honest and based on serious values, the thought of the former partner will always arouse some kind of loving/sexual feelings — though these feelings tend to reflect and be in line with reality, lacking the urgency and importance one would normally attach to feelings for a real (or potentially real) romantic partner.

Sheesh . . . after reading your post, now I know why you call yourself "The Tortured One"! Seriously, your story, while unpleasant to read, is also extremely common among men. The emotional trauma that the majority of males go through in romantic love defies description and belief — it's almost a wonder we're able to survive it all. As one guy put it: "It's incredible to think how much pain and devastation has been visited upon my life . . . all thanks my capacity to love people." He's only half-right, of course: It's that capacity, plus the total lack of understanding of what to do with it. I often say that a man takes his first important step on the road to romantic recovery the moment he begins to realize that every major problem he's ever had in love — every humiliating breakup, every infidelity, deception, or other "wronging" he's ever experienced — was, at root, in some very significant way, the result of his own bad choices and actions. Virtually every problem that leads to romantic disaster is foreseeable, usually far in advance, and often from the very beginning. When a man winds up in pain, he really has no one but himself to blame. This doesn't mean that a man deserves moral guilt for every romantic failure. Most men simply don't have a clue as to how to discern a quality romantic partner from one who'll make life a living hell; they have no concept of "red flags," let alone any ability to recognize them — not to mention the havoc that a man's overpowering, out-of-control sexual emotions can play with his ability to think clearly and act rationally. But it is to say that if a man intends to be successful in romantic love, he has to renounce totally, completely and forever the role of victim; it means that in order to be fully happy, a man has to take full responsibility for his life, his actions, and his relationships. A man may succeed in getting over his pain and moving beyond a particular experience, but without an attendant awareness of where his troubles truly lie, he's bound to make the same mistakes, and go through the same kind of pain, over and over again. This is essentially true, but it has perhaps less to do with psychology than simple statistics: the fact is that women are overwhelmingly the ones who initiate romantic breakups. The best figures indicate that approximately 2/3 of divorces are filed by the wife — in some states the rate tops 70%. (I'm not aware of any statistics for unmarried couples, though I suspect the rate is even higher.) Now before anyone starts to leap down my throat for saying this, I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. What is a terrible thing is that so many men are oblivious to what's really going on in their relationships, and only begin to become aware of problems until it's much too late. By that point, the woman is usually happy to get out, while the poor guy is left not knowing what hit him. (The most common statement from a man who's just been dumped? That the breakup came "out of the blue," and that he "didn't think things were that bad.") Add to that the fact that a man is much more apt to experience a romantic failure as a personal failing — as a blow to his masculinity — and add to that the fact that women are forever feeling sorry for us and trying to let us down easy, which causes us no end of confusion and false hope — and add to that the fact that men tend to be emotionally repressed in general; that we don't really "do" feelings the way women do — that we tend not to have the same level of emotional openness with our friends, and consequently don't have the same kind of social support system that women can rely on in times of crisis — and it's not terribly hard to understand why breakups often result in long periods of isolation and depression for men, while women seem to "bounce back" remarkably more quickly and easily.

Jennifer: Plagiarism means appropriating someone else's words or ideas as one's own. As long as you give the proper acknowledgement, and have something original to say, you should be on safe ground. Do please post your essay when you finish it!

Thought you all might appreciate this excerpt from a tribute to Arthur Miller by playwright David Mamet, posted to an email discussion list for a theater group I occasionally work with: P.S.: I don't know Miller's works well enough to have an opinion about them, or him.

Jennifer: The statement "God exists" is an arbitrary claim; i.e., it's not derived from any observation of any facts of reality. However, the concept "God" is not arbitrary — at least insofar as when someone uses it, one understands, at least in a general way, what's meant by it. Of course, those who assert the existence of God never offer any rationally intelligible definition of their concept. But still, when someone says he "believes in God," he's not talking total gibberish. If "God" were truly arbitrary in this sense, no one could have any meaningful discussion about or involving the concept at all. (It also, strictly speaking, could not be considered a "concept.") By the way, Jennifer, I've greatly enjoyed your posts. You've beat me to the punch on some really good stuff! [Edited to add the sentence in parentheses.]

If your friends think you're crazy and don't want to hear about it, there probably isn't a whole lot you can do to "explain" Objectivism to them. As a general rule of thumb, avoid proselytizing to people who don't care, or who are openly antagonistic to you and your views. You might also want to find some new friends while you're at it!

The first thing you're doing wrong is taking terribly seriously what's really a very silly question. Normal people don't think up questions such as this. At least in our modern age, questions of this kind typically are not the product of an honest person's quest for intellectual understanding — quite the opposite: they are concocted and presented to rational and intelligent people in order to undermine their self-confidence, and induce in them exactly the kind of uncertainty you're experiencing now. Note that although the question was given to you, apparently no attendant answer — not even a mistaken one — was provided. Such would almost certainly defeat the purpose: Tomorrow, all the tortured and sleepless young minds will file in to class and proceed to have a marvelously "intellectual" discussion about the metaphysical status of the toy house, with some students arguing in favor of positions they're not entirely sure of, and others merely watching uneasily (or bored) and saying nothing. The teacher in this instance will likely act as a facilitator and play devil's advocate against the arguments raised. By the time the schoolbell rings there will have been no clear, solid conclusion reached; everyone will leave even more hopelessly confused and tired, even more turned off to this moronic subject known as philosophy — and perhaps just a little less certain that they can make sense out of the universe, or that there's much use in trying. The solution to what's known in academic circles as the Romper Room Conundrum is really quite simple. In other words: don't plan on hearing about it class — unless you intend to stand up and present it. The answer is first to confess that you've reconstructed the house to the child who originally built it, and then ask him for his opinion on the matter. Assuming he's a reasonably bright kid above the age of 5, he'll probably say something along the lines of the following: "Gee, Pops, are you really that dumb? Have those crackpot philosophy profs finally obliterated your very last brain cell? Just what exactly are they teaching you in that big highfalutin university? Haven't you ever heard of the concept of respect? That is, that something can be true in one respect, but not true in another? "If you asked me whether or not the house that you've built is the same as my original, I'd have to ask you: What exactly are you referring to when you speak of 'the house'? If you mean my design and the actual blocks I used to execute it, then yes, it is the same. If, however, you mean 'the thing which was the work of my hand' — then no, clearly this is something different. The answer depends entirely on the respect one speaks of things being 'the same' — and more, the answer is virtually contained in this meaning, and becomes practically self-evident once such meaning is indicated. Should the person posing the question fail to make clear what he means, the question is quite impossible to answer — which makes it his problem, not yours. Now quit torturing yourself over such foolishness and move out of the way: you're blocking Sesame Street." I want to emphasize that, at least in today's world, no such question would ever come up in the mind of a normal, rational person in the course of his life (or at the very least he would never consider it to be anything terribly vexing or important) — without the influence of modern philosophy. Thousands of years ago, people got confused stepping into rivers and replacing boards on ships, and understandably so: such people were just beginning to learn how to think, and had not yet experienced the dawn of Aristotle's phenomenal epistemological influence. Sadly, that light has not yet reached many of our present culture's most illustrious educators, ensconced as they are in the lonely isolation of their ivory towers and inside their own heads. [P.S. — Statements here are intended as a general indictment of academia and modern philosophy, and are not a commentary on any particular individual or institution.]

"You live for the fight when that's all that you've got." — J. Bongiovi

That's a very big question, and it's asked in a somewhat strange way. The simple answer is that one is a man while the other is a woman — with everything that those facts entail. We're not bodies or minds; we're integrated beings of both. Now, what it means to be a man, versus being a woman, is something which has been discussed in this thread, and in others. Suffice it to say that basic virtues and qualities of character are not sexual characteristics, and apply equally to men and women.

Just a reminder that the class begins this Saturday . . . anyone interested in attending please contact me ASAP. [email protected]

Deedlebee, I sympathize with your confusion. I've read that statement a number of times on this forum, and I'm not sure I understand it either. Or perhaps I should say that I think I get the general sentiment behind it — which I more or less agree with — only it's expressed in so strange and misleading a way as to be rendered nearly invalid. I'm not at all sure that it's right to speak of "pursuing" anyone in the romantic/sexual realm. We can speak in a general way about pursuing values and goals, and we can to an extent talk about of pursuing a relationship with someone. But to pursue a person? I would at least want to know, concretely and specifically, what is meant by "pursuit" in this particular context. In a previous thread, I asked Betsy to explain what she meant by a man "pursuing" a woman. Though it took a bit before I could get her to nail down specifics, when she did, she named things such as a man going to where a woman is, listening to her, looking his best, talking about his work, and communicating that he values her. In that same thread, I said that I was concerned that men and women would hold vastly different ideas about what "pursuit" consists of, yet each would consider the issue to be virtually self-evident. Sure enough, while I didn't at all dislike the things Betsy named, I would have never even remotely considered any of them to be "pursuit." Interestingly, Deedlebee, you mentioned having "had the courage to pursue [your] current boyfriend," and now you express concern that your actions may have in some way hurt his masculinity. Yet for you, "pursuit" meant merely letting him know you were available. (I cannot possibly be the only guy on this forum who would say that, in my mind, this is approximately akin to referring to an elephant as a transistor radio.) I don't think of anyone as the "pursuer" in a romantic relationship: I say that the man is the initiator and prime mover — meaning that it's primarily the man's responsibility to set the overall tone and general direction of the relationship; that it's up to him to get the relationship off the ground, and to keep it maintained and sustained across time. A huge part of the man's responsibility in this respect is to be aware of and sensitive to the woman's feelings — especially her feelings for him. Far too many men will meet a woman they like, become overwhelmed by their attraction — and, knowing nothing about how a romantic relationship begins, proceed to expend a great deal of energy and ingenuity in their "pursuit" of her, all the while oblivious or indifferent to the fact that she feels no such attraction to him; that he represents no important romantic value, potential or actual, to her. Consequently, a lot men waste a lot of time, and go through a lot of agony when the object of their desire finally utters those dreaded words about what a great guy he is, and how badly she wants to be his friend. I much prefer to think of romantic love, not as a pursuit, but as a dance. A dance is something artful and elegant — it's esthetic and expressive — a mutual experience requiring the full and enthusiastic participation of both partners, yet one in which the man is unquestionably (and entirely appropriately) the lead. To the extent that a man is a skillful dancer, he is a skillful lead. Not a dictator or a dishrag, but a lead; one who understands, accepts and enjoys his uniquely masculine role and relationship to his female partner. A man who is insecure or unsure of himself makes a lousy lead — which makes for a lousy partner — which makes for a lousy dance and a very unpleasant time for everyone involved. Who asks whom to dance? Usually the man asks the woman, but it could happen the other way. That's not what's really important: So long as both want it and know what they're doing, by the time they're up on the dance floor everything will fall into place. (I mention this to indicate that there's nothing at all wrong with a woman starting a conversation or doing something to get the attention of a man she may otherwise never see again, such as Ayn Rand tripping Frank O'Connor. Any two people can talk and get acquainted: the "dance" only officially begins when the man takes the romantic lead by asking the woman for her phone number, and later calling her and asking her out on a date.) I have a great deal more to say about all of this, and soon will. Suffice it to say, I consider this to be one of the critical issues of our age: this dance, this process of love — what it is, what it means; how it begins and how it is sustained — and, most crucially, what is a man's role in this process. I hope that what I've written here will shed some light on your concerns. But speaking personally, and exclusively as a man for a moment, I want to say that what you're talking about is not only not a problem — that there's not only nothing wrong with expressing, in words and in action, how much you value, love and desire your boyfriend or husband — and that to do so is not unattractive, not unfeminine, and does not degrade or diminish or hurt or humiliate him in any way, shape, form, or manner whatsoever — I would say you have no idea, that you cannot even begin fathom what the expression of this kind of admiration means to a man. To be the hero in a genuine hero-worshipper's eyes . . . I'm usually pretty good with words, but I suddenly find myself at a loss.