Let's continue the schedule rundown, shall we?

On Wednesdays I have a morning logic class. Predictably, I hate it like the devil. I'm required to take it (for real this time, not like Duquesne and U of T where I could limbo under the radar), and since I haven't had any logic up until this point I have to take the BA level course, which is fine, I don't feel the need to be excessively challenged in this area. But, like most things I hate like the devil (quitting smoking, taking multivitamins) I'm sure it's good for me. I value the opportunity to make some sense out of the arguments structures I've been hearing so much about, and there really isn't any excuse for my not having a clue about Aristotelian syllogistics at this point in my career. I do feel confirmed that now is the time to get this over with by the fact that a very nice logic professor from Mt. Allison (Dr. Matthews) gave me a Copi book when I met him this summer, which just happened to be one of the books I packed, and this is precisely the volume that my logic professor is teaching out of. I read that coincidence as a confirmation that it is just time to do this now, better in Europe than somewhere else I suppose. I still hate it though.

On Thursdays I have my other morning class, this one on Kant. I struggle with Kant, fundamental as he is, so this class does not give me joy either, but the subject is interesting and the professor is approachable, so I am learning a great deal. The topic of the course is related to Kant's underpinning his treatment of human freedom (morals) and his treatment of natural science (the world in concreto) with the metaphysics of his first two critiques, the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason. Like I said, I struggle with Kant, but the transition from transcendental metaphysics to the special applied metaphysics is interesting to me, so we'll see what I get out of it. The professor has this funny lecture style where he makes a lot of little hand gestures right in front of his face and repeats himself endlessly, so it's a bit of a bear to take notes, but once you get into the rhythm of the way he works, it's kind of hypnotic. Despite the subconscious suggestion, however, I think I will have trouble with this course. We'll see.

Then on Fridays I have my contemporary Philosophy seminar on Horkheimer and Adorno's Dialectic of Enlightenment. It's a very small class (5 people) taught by a very young professor named Dr. Geyskins, whom I like a lot even though we got into a tussle about whether the historical trope of faith that H & A are using in their geneology of enlightement can be considered in touch with Kierkegaard's conception. I mentioned it as a point of interest, and Dr. Geyskins thought I was trying to voice a critique, and it downward spiralled from there. I think I'm still right of course, given that Adorno's treatment of Kierkegaard is notoriously shallow and the Dialectic is not exactly an in-depth treatment of the history of philosophy, but rather a imaginary portraiture of certain trends in Western thought (a la Nietzsche's Geneology), but I wasn't going to take up class time with my arguments (undeveloped as they always are in those moments). Overall, I enjoy it very much. The discussion is good and the book is interesting, however much the flippancy and irony of the work annoys me at times. I'm not sure I'm altogether sympathetic with the Frankfurt School, but it's important to know something about.

So that's my schedule then. Alas, there will be no Husserl for me this year, despite the resources that Leuven has in that regard. I am taking a phenomenology class next semester, but we're doing something with Heidegger. What I'm really looking forward to is a class in the theology department on Biblical ethics, which will access one of Levinas' texts. In the meantime, I am trying to pull together the sources for my thesis, which is coming along.

I know I know I know... it's been a long time.

Two reasons: 1) My reluctance to move on blogwise from my Grandmother's death. There's something unsettling about the way time continues to pass after someone close to you dies. The idea of her memory being scrolled under by my everday happenings upsets me to a fair extent, but this is, after all, part of life. At any rate, I thought a hiatus was appropriate.

2) My life has been full to brimming. I'm starting to get into the meat and potatos of school work, and I am up to my neck. Not only for the things I have to do, but most especially for the things I want to do. So let's talk about school.

A rundown of my schedule in several parts:

Mondays I have an evening class on Malebranche's The Search After Truth. My professor, Dr. Breeur, is a modern French specialist who is able to connect Malebranche not only to Descartes and the moderns, but also to Bergson and Merleau-Ponty, among many others. I really like this class because I now have the background in Descartes (thanks to Dr. Selcer's seminar last spring), Malebranche is interesting and even fun to read and Breeur explains him well. Among the issues that interest me is this idea Malebranche takes from Augustine (huge Augustinian revival at the time, including some theologians at Louvain, where I go to school!) that the original sin of the first man in the garden weakened our connection with God and strengthened our connection with our body, while at the same time lessening our control over it. This leads to the concupiscence which is of course how we can be lead into error as creations of an absolutely truthful nature (God), which was also one of Descartes' problems. Before the original sin, Adam's only object of love was God and his attention to material things was strictly for the preservation of his body so as to go on loving God as God intended. Inheriting the sin, human beings can now be diverted from the love of God via an uncontrollable desire (concupiscence) for material goods, which is of course our downfall. Epistemologically, this leads us to believe that the effects that material objects have on our senses correspond to attributes of material objects, but really, Malebranche says, these are only modifications of the soul which can lead us to a better care of the body and be a means to our loving God, or they can lead us into the miseries of error and eventual damnation. The philosophical elaborations of original sin have become something of a preoccupation of mine, since I am about to study in depth Kierkegaard's Concept of Anxiety, not only for my thesis, but also so as to fill in a gap in the paper I "delivered" in New Brunswick. It's interesting stuff.

On Tuesdays I have my beloved Lacan class with Prof. Moyaert. I just love this class. As it turns out, I think we will probably only read the seminar on ethics, which precedes the seminar on transference, but I'm fine with that, it fits better with my thesis. Moyaert has been laying out the Freudian background to Lacan's discussion in terms of the pleasure principle and the reality principle, and this burgeoning desire that emerges from their double intersection. Yeah, it's really that simple. The idea is basically that if the p.p. wasn't held in check, it would simply hallucinate the object of satisfaction, and this is bad for the subject. So the r.p. steps in and is able to mentalize, to interstice words essentially, between the drive of the p.p. and the object of satisfaction, postponing desire indefinately. Basically we can talk about things or sublimate our drive for the pleasure of inertia through a kind of substitution, words and ideas for objects. The upshot of this mutual intersection between the two principles is this desire that goes beyond both, and which Lacan identifies as the desire for "Object a" which has emerged as an indefinite lack that can never be fulfilled. Essentially, desire and the anticipation of satisfaction become an autonomous force of the subject, which in some sense constitutes our relationship with the world. Moyaert takes great pains to emphasize that the reality principle is not an advocate for reality, but maybe something more like our sense of a lack, which opposes the pleasure principle. Anyway, it's a great deal more complicated than that, but I'll stop there. Needless to say, I'm all kinds of into it.

I'll continue this later, but for right now here is a picture of the path from the front door of the lecture hall down the path that leads to Tiensestraat. Beautiful no?

Requiescat in pacem, Babcia.

Genowefa Michniewicz (my Grandmother) passed away last night, unexpectedly. It's hard to think about, especially being so far away. I can't be with my family, except through this contraption, and all I have with which to express my grief and share in theirs is these words, which are wholly inadequate. My Babcia was a complex person, surviving the war and marrying my Dziadek, who loved her without reserve or qualification. She was boisterous and stylish, demanding and generous, always at the center of everything in my family. Now the Main House is empty, both my Mother's parents are gone, and I may never walk through those doors again. I will never hear her voice, or feel her weight on my arm, or smell that strange blend of perfumes... My grief washes over me in waves, I am at the mercy of however I feel, which is too complex to sort out, and all by myself. I wish more than anything that there wasn't an ocean between my family and me right now, I want to be there when she's laid next to my Dziadek at Our Lady of Czestochowa. My Babcia's grief after Dziadek died never dulled, she never accepted his death, and so now, almost exactly three years later, I want to believe they are together again, that is a comfort to me.

Before I left to come here, my Momma gave me Babcia's engagement ring, which I had remembered being on my Mother's hand for most of my life. Since I was thirteen, I have also been wearing my Dziadek's ring, which has his name and the date that they were married engraved on the inside. These are the only rings I wear, and now more than ever I feel the weight of what these symbols represent. They rest together on my finger, denoting my commitment to their memory and to my family, the continuity of love between my Grandparents, my Mother and me. Maybe there is no immortality but love--but love there is, and love there always will be.

Ja kocham cie, Babcia, Dziadek. Pogoda jest do kitu, ale ja jestem wasz wnuczka, na zawsze.

And here's the much longer video of the academic procession of September 25th, 2006. The professors proceed from University Hall on Naamsestraat to St. Peter's church for the opening mass. At first I was a little annoyed at the students who were dead center in my shot, but they were so adorably oblivious I think they really just enhance the video.

Okay I lied. I figured out the embedded video thing (thanks to YouTube.com) so here is a short but noisy clip of the party in the Oude Markt. I'm not a film maker, so please excuse the quality.



That's Viktor towards the end, I thought I got Phil and Marianne too, but I guess not. Isn't technology wonderful!

Alright, last post of the day. I have to run the numbers for last month and that always takes me a few hours. But I couldn't stop without telling you about Shane, Phil and Marianne's fabulous house party on Friday night. First of all, their apartment is something else. It's huge, on the fourth floor of a building just across from St. Michael's Jesuit church (I took a picture of that sometime before my birthday) and it's very... umm... let's say modern, maybe kind of Frank Lloyd Wright-y, whatever that genre of architecture is. The inside has glass walls, exposed brick and Parque floors. They have a balcony in the back and a sweet kitchen that even has a freezer!

We all gathered there Friday night to get to know each other, even though most of the 2nd year MA students seem to be pretty tight friends. I met a lot of people and had a lot of great conversations. I brought my Jim Beam, which was promptly drunk, and I feel pretty good about emptying my loneliness bottle at such a great gathering. Symbolism is important, don't ever let anyone tell you it's not. Phil also gave me a shot of this homemade pear liquor someone had gotten in the Czech republic. It smelled like battery acid, but it had a nice aftertaste and I was reminded of the Calvados days back at 84 (is anyone reading this that would remember that? woo boy). At any rate, at some point I look around and Shannon, Phil and my new friend Chris (a.k.a. Frenchy) are missing and Marianne tells me they went to the Nachtwinkel for more booze. Incredulous, I head out after them, feeling my customary craving for Asian noodle packs. We went, I paid an outrageous price for some noodles (though that didn't lessen my enjoyment at all) and came back to party yet some more. At some point Shane announced that it was quarter to five (!!) and I had no poopin' idea where the time had gone. Shortly after that I headed home, although my hosts were kind enough to offer me a space on one of their numerous couches. One of the other little things I love about Leuven is how close everything is. I only had to stumble two blocks home, and I feel pretty safe here, so I opted for my own bed. There were still people there when I left, God bless them.

I had to wake up at 9 this morning to catch a train to this place Vilvoorde before 10. This was all very hard in my rough condition, but there's this package that has been floating around in the Taxipost system for about a week now, and though they tried to deliver it twice, I ultimately had to just go get it. The trip was interesting. I had to go to Brussels Noord to catch another train to Vilvoorde, but the trains run like clockwork here so it was easy-peazy. When I finally got to Vilvoorde, which is a charming and beautiful place I wouldn't otherwise have thought of, I had to walk for about half an hour (asking directions from everyone but finally only getting them from a very nice Policeman) to get into this industrial zone (just passed a crematorium) where Taxipost has its station. The walk into the industrial park was long and scary, especially given my fragile state, but I finally got there and received my birthday card from my Mom, which was a really nice bonus.

I was so tired when I got there that I called a cab for the ride back, which cost me a fortune (I won't even tell you how much it's so offensive) but the cabby was French speaking so I got to practice ("Ici ca bien, monsieur, merci.") and he dropped me off in the Grote Markt of Vilvoorde. It was filled with the Saturday market, which consisted of a lot of food stands and clothes trailers, so I grabbed a hamburger and sat on a curb. Best damn hamburger of my life, let me tell you, with the carmelized onions and everything. It was altogether a very pleasant experience. After a brief look at the shops (much less pricey than in Leuven, I think I will be back to Vilvoorde) I caught two trains back home.

I barely make it back to my apartment, collapse into my bed, and Marianne calls me. The three of them are going to Ikea. Now, my clothes are all on the floor and draped over my closet doors, and I need a reading light like no one's business, so I reluctantly agree and off I go for more domestic travel. It was fun, honestly. The three of them are a great group. Shane is from Kentucky, and has inexplicable sympathies with the Anglo-analytical strain of philosophy. Phillip is from the Boston area and come to think of it I don't know his specialty, and Marianne is from Halifax, so it's really a fun North American group. We managed to get out of the Saturday Ikea crush in about an hour and a half, and Phil and I had some 50cent hot dogs which just made me feel worlds better. Altogether, it was a pretty good day, expensive but good. Marianne (poor thing) was meeting her boyfriend at the airport later in the evening and he wanted to go out again that night, which from my perspective was just crazy. Nonetheless, I probably would have gone if I hadn't been dead to the world by the time she called me. At any rate, I'm having some kind of fun here in Leuven. I think my lonely days are over.

Today, I am planning to finish my accounts, do laundry and just read, read, read. I think my body requires a tremendous amount of rest now, so I will sign off. I hope all is well with you all!

Cake

After the nighttime photography sesh, we went to meet Viktor (an awesome guy, fellow Kierkegaard scholar, and a friend of the famed David Hoinski) at the Blue Cat, pictured here. It's an awesome but tiny bar that apparently has some tight live music every once in a while. The entrance is a long ally off the Naamsestraat, which is packed with tables this time of year. We had all gone the night before with my new friends Shane, Marianne and Phillip, who all live together in this amazing apartment on Naamsestraat, of which I will have much more to say later. The three of them had SMSed (European for text message) me earlier saying they were at a place called Giraf in the Oude Markt, but I had arranged to meet Viktor earlier in the day, so we hung out and had a couple beers at the Blue Cat. But after the first round, Viktor suggested that we go to the other bar, just to see some different ones. Shannon and I were game, so we went down the little alley that links Naamsestraat to the Oude Markt and lo and behold, it was a GD mass event. The Oude Markt, as big as it is, was FILLED with students, and there was some kind of musical happening, not a live band but the typical remixes of old American music blasting from the direction of Taj Mahal, and man the place was bumping with lights and the smell of a certain smokable substance and the beer was most definately flowing in the streets.

We had to get across the whole square in order to get to Giraf, boy was that a challenge. When we finally did we found Phil and Marianne sitting at a table with some of their friends, whom it was too loud to meet. We had a few beers, I tried to take some video of the party, since it was far too massive to take a picture of, but I haven't figured out how to embed a player in my blog. I'll do some experimenting and maybe I'll get it up here (along with the academica parade, which I haven't forgot about). Then Phillip suggested that we all meet some of his Belgian friends at the Politics Fakbar. Now the Fakbars are the student bars, and every faculty has their own. The beer is a euro and it's really more like a house party than anything else. There's no frills or table service, but you can party hard until the not so wee hours of the morning. It was a great time, Phil and I did shots of Jameson and the beer just kept on coming. We talked about interesting stuff, and I think I staggered home around two.

We took a lot of pictures, let me tell you. Here I tried to grab a picture of the Stadhuis from just under it, but as you can see it was too steep to set up the tripod, so the focus is off. The next up is the pile (mountain pile) of bicycles that sits just off to the side of the Stadhuis on Naamsestraat. In Leuven, a Wednesday night is a pretty busy night, since on the weekends all the Belgian students go home, so Wednesday and Thursdays are stupid busy in the bars, so this pile is just pooping massive. There are piles like this all over Leuven, but you'll never catch me on one of those contraptions, because for every one in the pile, there are probably two or three on the street competing with the cars for a slice of the tiny roads. Not me, no sir. Shannon does it, but that just contributes to my admiration.

The upper two are of the area around the Economics faculty (see orientation days post) which is really awesome at night. It's all gated and secluded and dark, with statues and gardens, even if I don't believe they've lit the Economics building itself very well. Just in case you couldn't figure it out, that's Shannon taking a picture of the statue. It was a hard shot, because there's almost no light, but my Cannon has the uber-flash, so I managed to get at least a dark picture.

So this blog will be more of a social one, since at long last I have been very, very busy. These pictures are from a night when I was sitting alone in my room and my new friend Shannon (one of the Carleton students from Ottowa) calls me and makes the astonishingly awesome suggestion that we go out for some nighttime photography. I immediately dropped what I was doing and packed up my tiny little tripod. It was pretty awesome, we walked around and took a lot of pictures, chatting the whole time. Needless to say I think it's safe to assume that Shannon will be a staple of my social life here, she's pretty pooping awesome. So these pictures, from bottom to top are a) a picture of Saint Peter's from the bottom of Tiensestraat, b) the central library from the middle of the Ladeuzeplein, c) the stadhuis from the middle gardeny island that separates the traffic, and d) some random colorful building off the Ladeuzeplein.

And yet more.... This top one is of the little inlet to the Minnenwater, which is covered with those little water plants I love (like at the swan pond at the Plantations), they're like tiny little pixels of green.

Here's some more pictures of Brugge... A week later....