Musings After Midnight - Easter 2005

And Man as a whole, Man pitted against the universe, have we seen him at all till we see that he is like a hero in a fairy tale?

Yes, that's C. S. Lewis above, writing about his friend's trilogy, the Lord of the Rings. He's writing about what in another age we might call heroic, qualities like passion, honor, goodness, and righteousness. The Easter series is mostly about fairy tales, and heroism, and wishes and dreams. There is an eventual end, with a concept of normative Christianity, "The Violence of Love". It starts with violence without love, and a serious true-life hero.

Medals and Goodness (May 2)

Friday night I went to a movie theatre for the first time since December 2003 and Return of the King. The film I saw was also about heroism, but more pressing than Peter Jackson's excellent work because it was based on reality. In this case, the hero was Paul Rusesabagina, who through connections, planning, and force of will saved over 1,200 people from genocide. The movie is Hotel Rwanda. I won't call it a great movie. It's a very good one, but the writing is too positivist in spots. A romantic scene was added. Positive Westerners get plenty of screen time, like the peacekeepers and Red Cross workers. And Sabena, the Belgian owners of the hotel, who did intervene (for which they deserve heroic credit). The negative Westerners that withdrew peacekeepers and didn't care and dallied, not least America, are pushed aside to radio reports. I felt compelled to think only about the success, perhaps ignoring the failures. Yes, the bitter humor of my describing a movie about genocide, that caused a great deal of tears in the theatre, as "too Disney" is not lost upon me.

Why do we not build castles to praise men like Paul? "The false heroes of barbarous man are those who can only boast of the destruction of their fellows. The true heroes of civilisation are those alone who save or greatly serve them," someone once wrote. If we believe in heroism, if we look for its ideals, we should reward those qualities. Sometimes we do, through medals. One fund distributes a medal to civilians who risk their own lives to extraordinary degrees while saving or attempting to save the life another person. The man who wrote the quote above donated 5 million dollars in 1904 to start the foundation. He was Andrew Carnegie, of US Steel, a man of questionable business morals like Bill Gates today. Yet like Sabena, and even Gates, who has given over $1 billion for disease vaccine research, and unlike many Economic Fundamentalists, Carnegie understood the notion of community responsibility. That fund is the Carnegie Hero Fund, which has honored almost 9,000 people with the Carnegie Medal for attempting to save a stranger's life at significant peril to one's self. About twenty percent of Carnegie Medals are awarded posthumously.

Not all medals are as pure as the Carnegie Medal. One almost as pure, and known by more people, is the US Military Medal of Honor. While one might disagree with the act of war, the acts within war that lead to this award are highly heroic. For nonmilitary service, the President awards the Medal of Freedom, and Congress the Congressional Gold Medal. Only a few people have received both. That list on this site includes people I expect, like Pope John Paul II, Blessed Mother Teresa, Elie Wiesel, Jonas Salk, Nelson Mandela, and Roberto Clemente, but also some entertainers and politicians. Though they created great beauty, I wouldn't call Irving Berlin or Frank Sinatra heroic. The qualifications for the Medal of Freedom and Gold Medal are less defined, more subject to politics and vagaries. This leads to abuse, the lack of heroism in the awards, gifts to those unheroic - or worse, Carnegie's false heroes. CBS News reports on some of them, CIA director Tenet who lied about weapons of mass destruction, and administrator Bremer who rebuilt Iraq so (in)adequately. Worse yet, evil men can give medals, like General Augusto Pinochet of Chile, who took power in a 1973 coup. During his 17 year regime, somewhere between 3000 and 5000 murders occurred for political reasons, along with much torture. But the Dean of the College of Cardinals, Angelo Sodano, took the Grand Cross of the Order of Merit for his diplomatic skill and brilliance. Hero of barbarous man, indeed.

I don't expect every man to be a hero. For a start, I'm not. Have I saved someone? Do I serve civilization? No. I look for a lesser goal; I could be a good man. Goodness is my standard, what I expect for myself and for my leaders. Goodness draws people. Why are we not surprised when I listed JP2, Mandela, Mother Teresa on the dual medal list? Their lives had courage, service, standing, and heroism. Those actions, from the fairy tale, still attract us, even when we profess modernity, beyond the childhood stories. We notice when our leaders lack that goodness (note the repetition about the goodness, if not heroism, of Josef Ratzinger). And when their medals come from evil men, it reduces the moral standing of their institutions. Perhaps, in the grand inquisition of truth, it might help leaders to remember why medals exist, why we make movies about men like Paul Rusesabagina. But hey, what do I know?

Happily Ever After (May 13)

I believe in happily ever after. I want happily ever after.

Is there any wonder why I'm still single? A while back, when I was smitten by a woman I had recently met, I was writing this letter to an old friend. And I described why I liked this girl, and that I hoped things would work out. The paragraph ended, "And they lived happily ever after. The End."

I've told this to a few people, and they've uniformly laughed at my naivete. One married man added "More like for better or for worse." Everyone is right, of course. There is no happily ever after. There is no "ever after". In the end, maybe 40 or 50 years will pass, but one of the partners will get sick, suffer, and die. Even if I believe in the afterlife, seeing her in the eternal paradise, there's still the pain, sadness, and loss of this life. Then, there's doubt, at 4 AM more doubt than other times, still a consequence of faith. And who knows how the New Jerusalem handles these things? Also, there's no happy forever. Any two people will disagree sometimes; all people are unhappy sometimes. Maybe he wants the toilet paper to unroll from the front, and she wants it from the back. She prefers red bedsheets, he likes blue. Sometimes she has a terrible day at work, or the children act up, or he has the stomach flu, all not happy events. More seriously, a couple might disagree on when to go to bed, or what mutual fund to buy, or how to order their lives. Maintaining love is difficult enough, at least bad enough for roughly half of all lifetime commitments to fall into divorce. Of the remaining half, we likely know marriages that are together for the sake of the children, or two good friends that share a bed, or two roommates that don't like each other much but remain bound by law and honor. Clearly, statistics are not on my side.

Still, I believe in happily ever after. I'm reminded of an answer from the New York Sun in 1897. The question wasn't about Happily Ever After, but the answer nevertheless makes perfect sense.

I investigated some truth and knowledge, like a good student, through a Google search on "Happily Ever After". There's a Philadelphia toy shop and multiracial fairy tales and academic fairy tale history and a French film and some romance resources and a lot of other stuff. Most importantly for a statistician like me, there's a happiness study from NBER which claims that among other things, unmarried people would need $100,000 in additional income each year to be happier than married people. It's an interesting question, since my income might make that jump next year. Would I be happier married as a grad student, or single as a corporate statistician? Very interesting. To go farther, there's a book on The Case for Marriage. It states that "the evidence is in, at least for the ways in which marriage is practiced today: Both men and women gain a great deal from marriage." Even farther, according to this article, I'm already too late.

Is it proper, then, to be "settling", getting married just to be married? I can't imagine that. One of my requirements of setting on the search for happily ever after is that I might not find what I'm looking for. I've accepted this possibility. I've been on my own for nine years now, mostly good. Sure, I want to be wanted, and my lack thereof is a depressing factor, and I fear failure. I have fretted over dying alone, my body decomposing for days or weeks until someone finally came around. The desire to have children is there, but slight, as is the desire to what Aquinas calls "the marital debt". None of these are overpowering, and they distract from the true call, a suitable partner.

Who is my suitable partner, my life-sharer, my happily ever after? That I can imagine. The characteristics of my dream I reveal through a literary crush, Clarisse McClellan. Intelligence, since the language and imagery I use is academic and complex. Wonder, since my vocation is ordering the mysteries of the world. Whimsy and laughter, since humor is a neglected form of beauty. Courtesy, since goodness demands respect for all souls. Righteousness, since I claim a portion of the values of the fairy tale. Sweetness, since there is no more powerful transformative weapon than love.

It's nice to make this list of traits. One might even look upon marriage as a market, where each girl has a list of qualities attached, on personality and attractiveness, and I would look down the list and select compatible people. At the same time, boys like me have our own lists; a woman looks for the qualities she desires, and those which I might meet. A good system could measure the validity of claimed truth, institute some sort of physical ranking system, and maybe even match people's lists automatically. Interestingly enough, this sort of brokered marraige market is available in much of this world, just not America, the land of Kapitalism. That seems a little backwards, even accounting for literal Puritanism. Perhaps the online services serve as modern marriage dealers, though without research or subtlety.

Yet even with efficiency, the traits are not enough. That's not happily ever after, either. I've talked about what type of woman attracts me, why I'm not willing to settle, the research, and what happily ever after is not. But what is Happily Ever After? I was asked that question, once, and the answer I gave was simple. Let me repeat it, slightly expanded, here. I think it's achievable.

That's Happily Ever After. And why would anyone want anything less?

Suffering and a Nation of Kings (May 15)

During the past month or so, two different people have made a statement so shocking that it caused me to doubt their sanity. It arose during discussions on Catholic instutional issues, including the papal conclave. They felt that American and western European people are too comfortable. I've heard this from other people, and disagree with this point, but I'll withhold that argument. The shocking statement goes farther, much farther. I'll make this a headline for emphasis:

There is not enough suffering in the world.

This is insane. At least, it's insane with the proper definition of suffering. I'm using that from Salvifici Doloris, which I've meditated upon previously. From section 7 of that apostolic letter, "man suffers whenever he experiences any kind of evil." Thus, to increase suffering means increasing evil. This is unthinkable.

The letter spends a great deal of time talking about the lessons from suffering, atonement and redemption and even completion. So much so, that I even noted that suffering sounds almost good. Thus, I can see how a person with an poorly formed conscience could leap from use to need. At least, I can see that until the consequences become apparent. To increase suffering is not just mortification. If we take suffering as good, we should exhibit that good - walk up and punch people, steal wallets, maybe even shoot a few folk. I pray, fervently, that once folks realize the implications of that statement, they will repent. To make it more obvious, I think if I ever hear that again I'm going to just slap the speaker to demonstrate the idiocy.

A speaker might qualify the statement, backing down from inflicting pain, instead talking about the wealth of the First World (Canada, western Europe, and the USA). If the comment was directed at poverty, I would agree; after all, there's the Gospel verse about camels, needles, and rich men, and the Gospels mention poverty a lot. That's not right, though; my opponents talk about comfort, particularly easy sexuality. Again, given their cellphones and tennis shoes and clean mixed fabric clothes and hot showers, I question their honesty, but there's something there. Compared to 1850, or even 1950, there has been a big shift in prosperity. Instead of worrying about starvation and the great depression, now we battle against obesity and stock bubbles. As I'm fond of reminding people, in 1850 slightly over half of all babies born in London did not reach 25 years of age. Now it might be 5 percent. The vast majority of us enjoy food, housing, and structure exceeding the upperclass of 100 years ago. I am not forgetting the underclass, or youth hunger (the only appropriate number of underfed kids is zero), but in general, America has become a nation of kings.

Our problems are different now. The basics of survival are satisfied. When I had a blood infection in college, an antibiotic kept me from losing my arm. Glasses let me read. Electricity led to the light and the plane and the computer. I consider these all wonderful testaments to the brains God gave us. However, they change the rules. Our capacity for evil has increased, not just through the ability to destroy humankind via nuclear device. The consequences of sexuality (pregnancy and disease) are more avoidable, and generally less deadly, though AIDS is a major exception. Television and the Internet spread lots of concupiscence and evil, though they do have good parts. On a more basic level, almost everyone can read, and thus we're not dependent on hearing the Word read to us. We have cheap Bibles, too. Some of us even read theological and pastoral works, making us more knowledgeable than the average priest of 300 years ago. We are not "simple lay people" anymore.

When the speakers talk about an excess of comfort, they feel that the lack of trial makes us more likely to ignore God. They spy lots more priests and religious in the Third World, where physical suffering is greater. The fact is true, but that doesn't mean we should abandon our advances. There have always been people with comfort, and some of those believed, and some even became Saints. The Church has preached to the Kings as well as the Peasants. Though the truth of the message remains, the specific emphases and tactics change from time to time and place to place. The reduction of physical suffering doesn't mean that we recreate it, for as I noted, suffering proceeds from evil. It means that we find new ways to talk about God, or adapt the old ways. There still are plenty of problems to serve as starting points. We might even use intelligence, and talk more about thought and theology. But I will never argue to create suffering. If anyone needs some, just ask and I'll share.

Elimidate and Confidence: An Interlude (June 4)

Television teaches me things about love. In a world with "Beauty and the Geek", a U of C undergrad will compete. You shouldn't need to click the link to discern beauty or geek. I have seen the show, but it's not the jumping off point. Instead, I'll start from a classic of dating advice, Elimidate. I see the show pretty often, since it's on late at night when I'm coding, nights like tonight. The show is popular with college students and males of my age group, due substantially to having lots of hot girls. The producers know their market, and make sure to have more male pickers, lots of female selectees, and plenty of bikinis. There are a few basic rules which one picks up. The least attractive female gets cut first, and in general one can identify the two finalists from the four starting pictures; just pick the prettiest. Also, typically the most aggressive female finishes second, no matter how much she grinds on the dance floor (and there are lots of dance floors on Elimidate). But I'm not bringing this up to comment on the women; instead, it's about what I as a single guy learn about dating. Who is the Elimidate man?

First, there's the physical aspect. The body is our first impression of another. Elimidate is a pretty shallow show, admittedly less intellectual than my life. Nevertheless, the physical impression matters; it gets people started. I try to look at the market, compare myself to the shirtless hunks on the screen, and not surprisingly fail. It's revealing to see impression in action. For instance, today I was at the department picnic. A pretty female roommate of a female statistician attended. Her reaction to me was decent and nonnegative, but to compare her body language around the extremely attractive male statistician was just remarkable. Even in a closed controlled environment of relative nerds, it shows the gap. In my optimistic times, I can compare myself to last year or the photos from my birthday four months ago. Improvement is a process that takes time. After all, it took me years to become a good analyst. In my pessimism, nevertheless, I still believe myself substantially below average, almost repulsive, eternally stuck, and there's the despair of inadequacy, of being lacking and thus doomed to loneliness. Ever notice how the fairy tale heroes are always handsome?

More damaging is my problem with another part of the Elimidate ethos: confidence, belief in self. When the first woman or man gets cut, he talks about his good qualities, or how the picker is missing out. This occurs even when she is a plain size 10 against three hot size fours. That strength, belief that oneself is attractive, I don't have. It's possible, in good times, to be confident about my objective strengths. I know how to read a dataset, program good graphs, and organize a dinner party for 40. Yes, in depression even this objective confidence disintegrates, but depression is disordered. Unfortunately, the depression state of worthlessness has insinuated my psyche, and I'm constantly looking for my flaws, the ones that others obviously perceive which I cannot find. I compare myself to markers, the men in my building and workplace; taller, stronger, funnier, better mathematicians, better liked, and so forth. I don't win the comparison often at all.

Maybe if I applied for Elimidate they would tell me where I fail; then, like the body, I could work. Or they might confirm that I stand low enough to fall into the small percentage of men that will never marry. Based on a friend's request, I recently read Chesterton's Orthodoxy. Although barely a side note, this sentence from the third page of "The Ethics of Elfland" startled me. "There is the great lesson of Beauty and the Beast; that a thing must be loved BEFORE it is loveable." Taken literally, that sentence is terrifying. Thus failure comes from outside myself, the lack of instances of confidence. Is it pre-ordained? Or punishment from God for my sins, my fundamental flaw?

Of course, more likely my handicap, my fundamental flaw, is that I think I have a fundamental flaw. It might seem a little strange to interrupt a series developing positive Christianity to talk about lack of self-confidence. It's the rule of the journal. It takes a little narcissism to write about oneself, hoping lots of people will read your public website. Part of the trade, the enticement, is that the journal, the musings, are more than intellectual exercises. I make no claim that my struggles are particularly newsworthy, or that I lead the suffering league. (The depression is pretty severe, but I have warm shelter and electricity and no physical abuse, for instance.) They're what I think about, and so what goes to the journal, good and bad. But now, I'm going to look at a source about love the Escrivites tend to appreciate more than Elimidate.

The Loss of the Song (June 7)

• Let him kiss me with kisses of his mouth!
• Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved, ah, you are beautiful! Your eyes are doves behind your veil.
• I have come to my garden, my sister, my bride; I gather my myrrh and my spices, I eat my honey and my sweetmeats, I drink my wine and my milk. Eat, friends; drink! Drink freely of love!
• His arms are rods of gold covered with chrysolites. His body is a work of ivory covered with sapphires. His legs are columns of marble resting on golden bases.
• Your rounded thighs are like jewels, the handiwork of an artist. Your navel is a round bowl that should never lack for mixed wine. Your body is a heap of wheat encircled with lilies. Your breasts are like twin fawns, the young of a gazelle.
• Come, my lover, let us go forth to the fields and spend the night among the villages. Let us go early to the vineyards, and see if the vines are in bloom; if the buds have opened, if the pomegranates have blossomed; there will I give you my love.

Where did I get such words? I wonder what the Parents Television Council would say about them. I have a suspicion that the sexual innuendo, with an outright offer of sex (even married), would make this not a green light show. Where, again? The Bible, silly! More specifically, The Song of Songs. (The exact passages are chapter 1: verse 2, 4:1, 5:1, 5:14-15, 7:2-4, and 7:12-13.)

In a world with great consternation about love and sexual acts, Christians have this entire book of Holy Scripture with a bride and bridesmaids and groom, thinking about male and female, and passages like the ones above. A logical person might conclude that the words would be part of the schedule of readings. I am generally a logical person, so I used this really good lectionary website to search for the Song of Songs in the lectionary. How many times does it appear in the Sunday schedule? NONE! Habakkuk is read once, on the 27th Sunday of year C. Paul's advice about submissive wives gets in there, but there's no room for the poem. Still, there are a lot of texts not on the Sunday schedule. What about the standard daily readings? As far as I can tell, NONE! Even the letter of Philemon gets one day, Thursday of Week 32 of year II. Yet there is no room in a two-year schedule, over 400 options, for one about Solomon's bride and groom. It is said that Martin Luther wanted to remove the book of James from the Bible. The Song of Songs appears to be Catholicism's James.

At least the Catholic church doesn't go as far as Joseph Smith, who expunged the poem from his Inspired Version, used by Mormons. But how does the commentary to the Catholic translation of the Bible, the New American, explain the book? From the introduction, "The author of the Song, using the same literary figure, paints a beautiful picture of the ideal Israel, the chosen people of the Old and New Testaments, whom the Lord led by degrees to an exalted spiritual union with himself in the bond of perfect love." Thus, the bridegroom is God and the bride is the Jewish people Israel. Another allegorical concept developed throughout the centuries, placing Christ as the groom, bringing the church as bride. A third approach developed with God and the Virgin Mary as the actors. Reading the text literally is also mentioned, but only as a secondary possibility: "While the Song is thus commonly understood by most Catholic scholars, it is also possible to see in it an inspired portrayal of ideal human love. Here we would have from God a description of the sacredness and the depth of married union."

The problem with all this allegory is found through Occam's Razor, named after the theory's populist, medieval Franciscan monk William of Ockham. (He was excommunicated, actually, which makes him an interesting choice for this series.) William's exact phrase was Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate; in English, Plurality should not be posited without necessity. We generally use it to summarize parsimony, that of two equivalent explanations, the simpler one is to be preferred. It's very Bayesian, like me. The complicated explanation for the appearance of this Canticle we've done, as allegory. What's the simpler choice? Romantic love was a subject important enough to include writings about. The Hebrew Scriptures include laws and rules, like most of Leviticus. They include historical notes. They include practical advice for living, the Proverbs. Why wouldn't there be a description of married love?

It took a while for Hebrew authorities to agree upon the books in their scriptures. Even in the 2nd century AD, there was some question about the Song of Songs. It is a little different; it doesn't mention the name of God explicitly, unlike pretty much everything else. Thus, it's not surprising that as the Christian churches developed, they struggled with the difference. It got harder, since strong Stoic influences infiltrated the church, with disdain of pleasure and joy. Then there were the Manicheans, who were taught to avoid the "evil" material, passionate, and emotional, to become fully "good", spiritual and rational. Obviously, sex and love were far too passionate. Manicheanism, popular in the third and fourth centuries, was condemned as a theology, based on an incorrect understanding of good and evil, which doesn't involve salvation through Christ. On the other hand, the negativity around sex, and promotion of celibacy, was very popular. While a little one-sided, this student page does a decent job of describing parts of fourth century male theologians John Chrysostom, Augustine, Athanasius, and Jerome. Extrapolating wildly from a short passage, in this case Pauline advice in 1 Corinthians, has happened, is happening, and will happen again. The problem is when it leads to messes. I've written before about the consequences, in the Benedict bit and elsewhere, including the jumping off point for this series. I'm not sure Manicheanism lost. The razor of Occam was defeated, as the purpose of the Song became increasingly complicated, stories and allegories proposed and advanced. It's not surprising, since most of the people in charge were celibate males, conditioned against the beauty and happiness of sex.

The last century has brought back to religion, partially and reluctantly, the idea of unity and sexuality. We need more. A positive Christianity must take God's world as not evil; it cannot be Manichean, or even approach those ranks. Recovering the lost meaning of the Song of Songs will help greatly. Placing more emphasis (or should I say any emphasis) on the book in the Lectionary would lead to more discussion, more instruction, and greater knowledge. Plus, there'd be more joy. Catholic christianity is currently a movement that has confused respect with emotionlessness. Even allegorically, the canticle reverses that sense, flowing with poetic emotional language. We learn about God through a means other than suffering. Taken properly, we see the inherent goodness of love, kisses and beautiful descriptions and hints of gifts and happy circumstance.

Benefits with Friends (June 15)

Although sexual love is an important part of Catholic thought, it's not the single overriding issue that some people make it to be. So it's time to shift to another happy circumstance, friendship. I've been reading C. S. Lewis, and The Four Loves, really for the first time. And it's a wonderful book, full of cheer and practicality, like the joy of the door marked with "Gentlemen", and it does not take God's world as evil. His chapter rehabilitating Friendship as love, philia in the Greek, correlates highly with a conversation I was having a few weeks ago, about what defines a Friend. For that person's benefit, and others, here's my list.

1. Shared Activity. Pretty much anything can be the common connection: school, work, gardening, walking the neighborhood, softball, church, dance, Mah-jongg. There needs to be something to bring people together. I've found friends through school, work, church, and cards myself. Of course, this isn't enough for philia. Lewis calls the people we interact with Companions, a fine term. I've used Acquaintance before to describe the same situation. Modern American society, like The Facebook, will often call these people Friends, but that's a little cavalier. The Australians use "mate", which works better. The majority of people we meet here remain separated from our small circle of Friends.
2. Values. Companions tend towards deeper relationships when they find that they share an outlook, a vision, something more than participating in the activity. Lewis states this well: "Do you see the same truth? Or at least, do you care about the same truth?" Sometimes this isn't a positive belief; I once bonded with someone over our shared dislike of a teacher. People that share our values, but nothing else, are political allies or, as Lewis notes, Fellow-Travellers. This might be the trickiest of the four qualities to find, because it comes from outside ourselves, and thus the scariest. I can take up all the activities I want, but unless someone else shares my view and communicates that, I won't find a friend. Fortunately for me, this has been not impossible.
3. Trust. The Counselor is Trust without activity or value. Trust is the respect to listen and provide advice, and to believe the inherent good intent of the other in those suggestions. It makes it easy to speak about the shared values. We of the Don't Talk to Strangers generation often have trouble here, as our upbringing makes trust challenging. We can spread emotions publicly like on TV, unlike the older generations, but intimate confession is difficult. We often wind up with lots of decent Mates.
4. Power Equality. Finally, friendship is shared between people of equal standing. Lewis wonders why Scripture doesn't represent the relationship between God and Man as Friendship, when it does use Affection (storge) and Eroticism (eros, like in some way the Song of Songs). He misses this point; since we should never consider ourselves equal to God, we cannot use the language of togetherness. The sharing, the belief, the trust of this type of love are extremely difficult when one person has responsibility or power over the other. The temptation is to distrust, to hold back, to consider how the information might become used. This is hard enough when of the same rank, and I think unfeasible with power. Instead, we can have a Mentor, or a trusted Boss, or a Student, or a TA. Although those relationships can convert once the power is removed, they're not Friend-love.

As you might suspect, the bar for full Friendship is pretty high. And this state can be lost as the relationship changes. In my transient school-based life, Friendship is generally lost because one party graduates and moves away, losing the common activity. Then I get another Old Friend, or Friend Emeritus. So I don't consider it unusual that I would call just four people Friends right now, and I don't think I've ever had more than six. (I also have two current relationships that may become Friendships.) My current active Emeritus count is five. Actually, I would suspect that this total is higher than most Americans', when they truly searched under the definition. And as such, I take this kind of love seriously. I'm still pained by my error sixteen months ago, when in the start of my latest severe depression, I confused the signs of friendship with romantic friendship and hurt someone. Pain is always a potential consequence of any type of love, it seems. But like all the loves, there are great benefits.

The Music of My Life (June 18)

I've been thinking about beauty as well recently, particularly on lovely days like this one. Music, at least the best songs, can be part of the beautiful. Plus it's almost a rite of Internet passage to write about one's favorite songs, and far be it from me to neglect the rites. Here are ten of my iTunes five star songs, ordered (roughly) chronologically.

• Enter Sandman, Metallica. I grew up with very little music, as neither of my parents listened to much, even during car trips. My father played violin as a child, up to the Pittsburgh Youth Symphony. He could have played with the Johnstown Symphony, back when the town was bigger and even small cities had public orchestras, but he put it away when he started teaching. Things were quiet in my house. Thus, the little music I heard came from my buddies, the 80s big hair metal bands. Of those songs, this is my favorite, though it's still very hard not to sing along to November Rain.
• Shiny Happy People, REM. Perhaps the first band I personally liked, very innovative to a rural Pennsylvanian. This was the theme song for the scholastic quiz team one year. Describing the malaise of 1970s and 80s western Pennsylvania back then is difficult, and I won't try; I'll just say this was a completely ironic-bitter and never hopeful song for us nerds.
• Crucify, Tori Amos. I had heard Silent All these Years on the radio one night my senior year of high school, and was intrigued enough to get the CD eventually, a big step given I only bought four or five CDs per year. I was not disappointed. As someone who still does a good job of punishing himself, it's a question I haven't yet answered.
• Mamma Said Knock You Out, LL Cool J. As an undergrad, I prepared for exams by listening to very aggressive speed metal type songs, assuming that getting the pulse racing and enraged would help me think and write faster. I'm not sure if it helped, but it did amuse my roommates. Anyway, this was one of the songs in the playlist, as I'd imagine myself getting into the ring with my pencils. As a tune, it's put together really well.
• One of Us, Joan Osborne. I used this as part of a retreat meditation in college, as it's an interesting question. The sensory part of my brain likes the emphasis on God (Jesus) as human, against the philosopher's divine. This is a good representative of whiny chick-folk; I might also put Paula Cole's Where Have all the Cowboys Gone as another question-song.
• Salvation, Cranberries. Sort of an impulse purchase right after college, when I had money for the first time, I really liked this song, with the upbeat music. I might instead put Switchblade 327 by the Brian Setzer Orchestra here as also representative of my taste for positive songs with limited angst.
• An Apple a Day, Aqua. Many people listen to music for relaxation, but I am not one of them; I listen for energy. I first heard Aqua's Barbie Girl through NPR, as they did a piece about Mattel's displeasure. Are they brilliant experimentalists? Likely not. They make cheery, slightly catchy tunes to keep my energy high, and I need pep sometimes.
• Opening Theme, Chrono Cross. A lot of people like the music from Chrono Trigger more, but I disagree; the sounds and string quality of the sequel are much better. I often use a mix of songs from the game at dinner parties, which gets a lot of positive comments. I've often called this my theme song; you have to see the video sequence to know exactly why, but a hint is that I use Lucca as an online avatar. I wonder if I ever get a stage entrance if the woodwinds would work?
• Hurt, Johnny Cash. This version trounces the original of Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails. Reznor was in his late twenties, enough to speak of despair (aided by the fact that he grew up in Western Pennsylvania), but not life longing. This was Cash's last single; the longing is obvious; it is the voice of a man going to die. Technically, Reznor pollutes the words with industrial electronica; Cash's acoustic recording does not distract. To quote from of all places a Pakistani fashion magazine, "Maybe this is what art is really supposed to be like, pure, unrestrained and distinctly moral." And the video, oh, the video! Honestly, I'm too young to fully appreciate the images, but it took me seven or eight tries to watch the four minutes without crying. One of the travesties of modernity was Hurt losing MTV Best Video to Missy Elliott and "Work It". It did win Country Music Video of the Year, and I guess I should just be amazed about the MTV nomination.
• Broken, Seether with Amy Lee. I could have chosen Tourniquet or My Immortal from Evanescence just as easily, but this song captures last year better than the others. The video puts this to the top, with angel wings on a desert wasteland. Like Hurt, it's a song of wishful longing, and I can't sing this song yet; it's a tune for the end of Happily Ever After, which I have yet to begin.