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A summary of my chess career thus far:
I became infatuated with the game as a young kid, likely because it was perhaps the only competitive endeavor at which a short, skinny, precocious seven-year-old could demonstrate that he was better than his peers. When I learned that there existed such things as chess tournaments that I could actually compete in, I got really excited, and played in my first tournament at age 10. Before too long, my excitement gave way to frustration as I found that I was no match for many of my opponents. My initial rating was in the 1300s*--perfectly respectable for a kid my age, but not particularly impressive. And, despite spending hours in solitude reading chess books and playing in many more tournaments, I never seemed to get better. I finally quit playing in tournaments at age 15, my rating still stuck at 1340.
*A rating above 2200 is "master" (and above 2400, "senior master"). From 2000-2199 is "expert," while anyone rated below 2000 is a "class player": Class A from 1800-1999, Class B from 1600-1799, Class C from 1400-1599, Class D from 1200-1399, etc.
Over the next several years I would occassionally play a casual game, often against my brother, who had also played in tournaments and was about my strength (well, okay--his rating was slightly higher). But the part of myself that competed in chess tournaments gradually faded to a distant memory until I rather suddenly caught the "chess bug" again about six years ago. It started when, browsing the internet, I realized that you could actually play live chess with people online now.* I won my first couple of games, and was immediately hooked.
*We're talking yahoo.com or even netscape.com--bad interfaces with lots of weak opponents. There are, of course, much better free options out there, such as chess.com or freechess.org.
Soon afterwards, I was browsing the local Barnes & Noble and my eye was drawn to a chessbook, which I bought and promptly devoured. I actually had no idea that the book I'd bought on a whim, Jeremy Silman's How to Reassess Your Chess, was already considered a classic for the aspiring class player. Soon I was eager to play "real chess" again, and so I renewed my long-dormant membership in the USCF (United States Chess Federation) and was off to play in tournaments.
While my first tournament as an adult was rather humbling, it was soon clear that my understanding of the game had actually grown quite significantly. What's more, I studiously went over my games, learned some new openings, and quickly amassed a small library of instructional chess books. I soon crossed the 1400-rating barrier, then the 1500, and less than a year after returning to tournament play, my rating actually passed 1700! Somewhere in this period of rapid improvement I set myself the ambitious goal of becoming a master before I turned 30.
Of course, I soon realized that there's a big difference between improving from, say, 1500 to 1700, and 1700 to 1900. My rating progress slowed to what seemed like a complete halt--but I persevered, continuing to learn more about the game and gradually improving my results.
I had something of a breakthrough in the second half of last year--in July, I took first place in the Under 2000 section of a fairly big tournament in Connecticut, winning 5 out of 5 games! Then in December, I won 5 out of 6 games at a weekend tournament in Albany, also enough for first place. In some ways that victory was all the sweeter in that I lost my first game, and then had to win the rest.
And so, while some time ago I realized that my goal of making master by the age of 30 would not be feasible, it appears I may have done the next best thing.
I'll turn 30 exactly three months from today. My most recent chess rating, according to the USCF website:
2003
2003. Expert! I feel I must hasten to add that ratings don't become official until a month or so after they're rated, and indeed this may be something of an anti-climactic announcement, since last Saturday I played in a local one-day tournament (which has yet to be rated) and didn't do well, and so my rating may well fall back below 2000 before my next "official rating" comes out.
But whatever. For the moment anyway, I can at least refer to myself as an "unofficial chess expert." And it's only a matter of time before it becomes official.
And then, who knows... perhaps I can still make master by age 35.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
"It is I, castlerook's first blogpost, come to gloat! Just as I predicted, castlerook has proved incapable of maintaining his blog! See, what a desolate wasteland is here. 'Tis been over five months since castlerook has visited this, his creation. He has abandoned thee! I hereby claim rule over this region of cyberspace!"
"Not so fast, vile one! It is I, castlerook! I have returned to reclaim that which is rightfully mine!"
"You're too late! This blog is my domain now. Look around. See anyone here? I didn't think so. Did you honestly expect you'd still have any readers if you came back? That anyone would still care about what you have to say?"
"It matters not. 'Tis true I have been away, and 'tis true there may be no one left to hear me speak. But I am here now, and again have voice. That alone matters. Begone with your purposeless cynicism."
"Ah, but you created me, castlerook. My purposeless cynicism is really your purposeless cynicism. Don't you know that?"
"Then I shall smite thee out of every corner of my own consciousness! Draw, and do battle!"
(A virtual swordfight ensues. A lot of epic stuff happens--blogpost's virtual blade cuts castlerook's virtual right shoulder, castlerook disarms blogpost but graciously allows blogpost to retrieve his blade--you know the drill. In the end, blogpost is about to deliver a fatal blow but castlerook's sword reaches its destination first.)
"Oh, I am slain! Farewell, castlerook, but know ye this: shouldst thou waver in thy care for this virtual land--shouldst thou once again be silenced by thy own self-doubt and cease thy work--should that day come, I will return, and stronger than ever!"
(Blogpost dies. Castlerook gives blogpost a sincere and proper burial, and then at last resumes his mercurial musing.)
"Not so fast, vile one! It is I, castlerook! I have returned to reclaim that which is rightfully mine!"
"You're too late! This blog is my domain now. Look around. See anyone here? I didn't think so. Did you honestly expect you'd still have any readers if you came back? That anyone would still care about what you have to say?"
"It matters not. 'Tis true I have been away, and 'tis true there may be no one left to hear me speak. But I am here now, and again have voice. That alone matters. Begone with your purposeless cynicism."
"Ah, but you created me, castlerook. My purposeless cynicism is really your purposeless cynicism. Don't you know that?"
"Then I shall smite thee out of every corner of my own consciousness! Draw, and do battle!"
(A virtual swordfight ensues. A lot of epic stuff happens--blogpost's virtual blade cuts castlerook's virtual right shoulder, castlerook disarms blogpost but graciously allows blogpost to retrieve his blade--you know the drill. In the end, blogpost is about to deliver a fatal blow but castlerook's sword reaches its destination first.)
"Oh, I am slain! Farewell, castlerook, but know ye this: shouldst thou waver in thy care for this virtual land--shouldst thou once again be silenced by thy own self-doubt and cease thy work--should that day come, I will return, and stronger than ever!"
(Blogpost dies. Castlerook gives blogpost a sincere and proper burial, and then at last resumes his mercurial musing.)
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Chess Therapy
One of the reasons I play competitive chess is that my results actually give me a sense of how I'm doing in the most general sense: success indicates that my life is progressing more or less as it should be, while failure suggests that something is out of balance--that I have some internal conflict in need of resolution.
If this sounds overly dramatic, it honestly isn't. Certainly there are exceptions: I may play good chess and still have less-than-great results. But if I lose due psychological factors that result in a concentration lapse or poor decision-making, I take it as a sign that I have some personal work to do.
About two months ago, I had my best chess tournament result ever. I won the Under 2000 section of a weekend-long tournament: 5 wins, 0 losses, 0 draws. For my efforts, I gained an $800 prize and a great deal of confidence in my chess abilities.
My next tournament took place three weeks ago, at a similar but slightly larger six-round event with a top section prize of $1200. I was one of the top-rated players in my section, and given my recent triumph, I had very high hopes.
It started well. The first game, I not only won but did so with a certain brutal efficiency, quickly punishing a couple of inaccurate moves from my opponent. It seemed clear that I was still in the same form with which I had ended my previous tournament.
The next game, played that same evening, also began well. I had a good position in the middlegame and while I missed an opportunity to obtain a decisive advantage, I managed to reach a rook endgame in which I was a pawn up and had some winning chances.
What transpired next is even now painful to think about. I played the endgame abominably and turned a possibly winning position first into a drawn position, and then ultimately into a loss. While any chess player has had his/her share of tough losses, I had never been as angry with myself after a game as I was then. I stormed back to my hotel room and flung my chess set against the wall. I was filled with an unusual and self-directed rage. My loss has little to do with a lack of chess knowledge but instead represented a psychological breakdown: my opponent had been a rather annoying kid who squirmed around a lot in his chair, and I had let his behavior get into my head and affect my concentration. Furthermore, once the win had slipped away I had been unable to adjust. Both the game and my psychological state then fell into a downward spiral.
Unable to come to terms with the loss, I attempted to wipe it away the following morning by re-entering into the 2-day section of the tournament. Unfortunately, I found that I was still rattled from the previous night's game, and began the day with a draw and a loss. I straightened myself out somewhat with a much-needed win the next game, and then managed another draw in the fourth and final game that night.
I was no longer in contention for any prize money, and the next day I discovered that my normally irrepressible competitive drive had been completely sapped. Round 5 was a rather lackadasical and joyless draw. Afterwards, while sitting off by myself in a corner of the hotel lobby, I realized that I had no desire to play in the last round. And so I did something that I have never done before: I withdrew from the tournament before the last round, and headed home.
Now, my results weren't exactly awful: all told I had 2 wins, 2 losses, and 3 draws. Granted, I was one of the pre-tournament favorites, and so I had a right to be disappointed. But what made this tournament so painful was that none of my failures were the result of being unfamiliar with a particular opening line or being outplayed by a superior opponent. My mistakes were all psychological; I would have a lapse in concentration and after one mistake, I was often unable to re-center myself. By the end of the tournament, sadly, I had simply stopped caring.
This brings me back to the assertion I made at the beginning of this post: psychological failure at the chessboard generally indicates that something else in my life is out of balance. The truth is that over the past month and a half or so, I have been struggling with some very real depression. There have been various factors contributing to this, the most obvious one being the return to a full-time job that I don't particularly enjoy. But it's become clear to me in the last few weeks that the roots of what I'm dealing with go much, much deeper.
The point I'm trying to make here is that this abysmal chess tournament actually served as a very effective wake-up call: it forced me to see that something has not been right with myself, and I have been able to come to terms with this knowledge. Simply accepting that I have not been emotionally healthy has helped a great deal, and while things are not all better yet, I am fairly optimistic.
And if I am correct that my level of play on the chessboard reflects my psychological state, then I have some very good news. Yesterday I went to a small one-day tournament, held an hour's drive away. I almost didn't go, as I was feeling exhausted from a tough week of work and not at all sure I was ready to confront my inner chess demons.
My results: 3 wins, 0 losses, 1 draw, and clear first prize.
Castlerook's back.
If this sounds overly dramatic, it honestly isn't. Certainly there are exceptions: I may play good chess and still have less-than-great results. But if I lose due psychological factors that result in a concentration lapse or poor decision-making, I take it as a sign that I have some personal work to do.
About two months ago, I had my best chess tournament result ever. I won the Under 2000 section of a weekend-long tournament: 5 wins, 0 losses, 0 draws. For my efforts, I gained an $800 prize and a great deal of confidence in my chess abilities.
My next tournament took place three weeks ago, at a similar but slightly larger six-round event with a top section prize of $1200. I was one of the top-rated players in my section, and given my recent triumph, I had very high hopes.
It started well. The first game, I not only won but did so with a certain brutal efficiency, quickly punishing a couple of inaccurate moves from my opponent. It seemed clear that I was still in the same form with which I had ended my previous tournament.
The next game, played that same evening, also began well. I had a good position in the middlegame and while I missed an opportunity to obtain a decisive advantage, I managed to reach a rook endgame in which I was a pawn up and had some winning chances.
What transpired next is even now painful to think about. I played the endgame abominably and turned a possibly winning position first into a drawn position, and then ultimately into a loss. While any chess player has had his/her share of tough losses, I had never been as angry with myself after a game as I was then. I stormed back to my hotel room and flung my chess set against the wall. I was filled with an unusual and self-directed rage. My loss has little to do with a lack of chess knowledge but instead represented a psychological breakdown: my opponent had been a rather annoying kid who squirmed around a lot in his chair, and I had let his behavior get into my head and affect my concentration. Furthermore, once the win had slipped away I had been unable to adjust. Both the game and my psychological state then fell into a downward spiral.
Unable to come to terms with the loss, I attempted to wipe it away the following morning by re-entering into the 2-day section of the tournament. Unfortunately, I found that I was still rattled from the previous night's game, and began the day with a draw and a loss. I straightened myself out somewhat with a much-needed win the next game, and then managed another draw in the fourth and final game that night.
I was no longer in contention for any prize money, and the next day I discovered that my normally irrepressible competitive drive had been completely sapped. Round 5 was a rather lackadasical and joyless draw. Afterwards, while sitting off by myself in a corner of the hotel lobby, I realized that I had no desire to play in the last round. And so I did something that I have never done before: I withdrew from the tournament before the last round, and headed home.
Now, my results weren't exactly awful: all told I had 2 wins, 2 losses, and 3 draws. Granted, I was one of the pre-tournament favorites, and so I had a right to be disappointed. But what made this tournament so painful was that none of my failures were the result of being unfamiliar with a particular opening line or being outplayed by a superior opponent. My mistakes were all psychological; I would have a lapse in concentration and after one mistake, I was often unable to re-center myself. By the end of the tournament, sadly, I had simply stopped caring.
This brings me back to the assertion I made at the beginning of this post: psychological failure at the chessboard generally indicates that something else in my life is out of balance. The truth is that over the past month and a half or so, I have been struggling with some very real depression. There have been various factors contributing to this, the most obvious one being the return to a full-time job that I don't particularly enjoy. But it's become clear to me in the last few weeks that the roots of what I'm dealing with go much, much deeper.
The point I'm trying to make here is that this abysmal chess tournament actually served as a very effective wake-up call: it forced me to see that something has not been right with myself, and I have been able to come to terms with this knowledge. Simply accepting that I have not been emotionally healthy has helped a great deal, and while things are not all better yet, I am fairly optimistic.
And if I am correct that my level of play on the chessboard reflects my psychological state, then I have some very good news. Yesterday I went to a small one-day tournament, held an hour's drive away. I almost didn't go, as I was feeling exhausted from a tough week of work and not at all sure I was ready to confront my inner chess demons.
My results: 3 wins, 0 losses, 1 draw, and clear first prize.
Castlerook's back.
Monday, August 24, 2009
In Pursuit of a Meta-Philosophy
Note: The ideas presented in this post are far from fully worked out. Comments are particularly encouraged.
"Live in such a way that will make the world a better place. Do good to others."
"Live an authentic life by following your heart's desire. Don't give up on your dreams."
The above is my rather crude attempt to summarize two very different approaches to the question of how best to live one's life. I think they are the two dominant approaches in our culture, and possibly other cultures as well, past and present. Certainly I can feel the presence of both within my own psyche. What's more, I believe in the Truth of both.
What follows is an attempt to reconcile them.
I said that these are two very different approaches, and they are, but they are not necessarily contradictory. I think they may illustrate two paths to the same destination: living a healthy, productive, and joy-filled life. Those who have arrived at that destination are both living out their heart's desire and doing good to others. Indeed, in a fully enlightened state, the two may be the same.
The hard part, of course, is getting there. If I live solely according to our first philosophy, I may easily neglect myself, or fail to discover and make best use of my unique gifts, so that I fail to do much good in the long run. If I live solely according to our second philosophy I may neglect those around me, fail to take responsibility for my actions, and as a result never find the bliss I was searching for.
Now, one following the first path might eventually realize that in order to really do good, he/she must also pay attention to him/herself. The converse holds for someone on the second path. In either case, it is at this moment of realization that spiritual growth occurs.
So I think that each path can work. Joseph Campbell spoke of a "right-hand path" and a "left-hand path," and I think he had a similar dichotomy in mind.
What I'm trying to figure out is whether it's possible to pursue both paths simultaneously.
And with that goal in mind, here’s my first attempt at a meta-philosophy:
Strive to place yourself in situations where you will want to do good.
Discuss.
"Live in such a way that will make the world a better place. Do good to others."
"Live an authentic life by following your heart's desire. Don't give up on your dreams."
The above is my rather crude attempt to summarize two very different approaches to the question of how best to live one's life. I think they are the two dominant approaches in our culture, and possibly other cultures as well, past and present. Certainly I can feel the presence of both within my own psyche. What's more, I believe in the Truth of both.
What follows is an attempt to reconcile them.
I said that these are two very different approaches, and they are, but they are not necessarily contradictory. I think they may illustrate two paths to the same destination: living a healthy, productive, and joy-filled life. Those who have arrived at that destination are both living out their heart's desire and doing good to others. Indeed, in a fully enlightened state, the two may be the same.
The hard part, of course, is getting there. If I live solely according to our first philosophy, I may easily neglect myself, or fail to discover and make best use of my unique gifts, so that I fail to do much good in the long run. If I live solely according to our second philosophy I may neglect those around me, fail to take responsibility for my actions, and as a result never find the bliss I was searching for.
Now, one following the first path might eventually realize that in order to really do good, he/she must also pay attention to him/herself. The converse holds for someone on the second path. In either case, it is at this moment of realization that spiritual growth occurs.
So I think that each path can work. Joseph Campbell spoke of a "right-hand path" and a "left-hand path," and I think he had a similar dichotomy in mind.
What I'm trying to figure out is whether it's possible to pursue both paths simultaneously.
And with that goal in mind, here’s my first attempt at a meta-philosophy:
Strive to place yourself in situations where you will want to do good.
Discuss.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Recent Dreams
Most mornings, I awake with no memory of what I dreamed the night before. When I do remember my dreams, they generally fall into one of three categories:
1. Wild, nonsensical dreams full of seemingly random surrealistic imagery. In these dreams, I am completely unaware of myself as a conscious entity.
2. Dreams in which I am a central character but the "I" of the dream is separated from the "I" of my consciousness. That is, my dreaming self watches as "I" live out various fantastical stories.
3. Realistic dreams in which I have the same sort of thought processes as when I am awake. These are the sorts of dreams from which one awakes and asks, "Was I dreaming?"
Sometimes the boundaries are fuzzy, particularly since dreams can have more then one "episode," and so a dream may begin with one level of consciousness and end with another.
Yesterday morning, I awoke with the feeling one has after a Type 3 dream, but soon felt rather silly asking the whole "was I dreaming" question, since the dream could not be called realistic. For starters, I was pregnant.
Pregnant, and a doctor was informing me that I would have to abort my baby. Apparently I had previously undergone a new, innovative procedure making it possible for men to carry babies, but something wasn't going well and for my own safety, the pregnancy would have to be terminated.
Now, up to this point I think I had been having a Type 2 dream. I cannot recall any conscious thoughts in any detail, just basic emotions and reactions (the doctor's news actually came as something of a relief). But then a new scene begins: I'm alone in a hospital room waiting for my operation. I'm wearing a hospital gown and feeling nervous about what's going to happen. Will the surgery go okay? How do I feel about losing my baby? The conscious thoughts are all there, and everything seems completely realistic. I seem to be fully myself, just in a highly unusual circumstance. So, it's a Type 3 dream now. I analyze my own complex feelings about losing my baby until I wake up.
Clearly this is a dream almost begging to be subjected to all sorts of interpretations.* My wife suggests that the baby could symbolize an aspect of my creative life, and I think there's something to this. Still, it's unclear to me whether the dream suggests that I need to abort some aspect of my life, or whether I'm feeling pressure to abort something and should resist.
*Castlerook's really a woman! Or, castlerook really wants to be a woman! He has uterus envy!!
While I'd be fascinated to read any theories my readers may come up with, I'm going to leave the subject of castlerook's pregnancy for now. Believe it or not, I had another dream the same night which I find even more interesting.
I'd been awake about an hour or so before I realized that I had another dream before the "I'm pregnant" dream.
The dream was very brief, and consisted of a single image and a series of thoughts about the image. In my dream, I was looking at a picture of the enneagram.
Necessary digression: the enneagram (or, more specifically, the Enneagram of Personality) is a tool used in personality analysis, sort of like the Myers-Briggs personality typology, but with something of a more mystical basis. In the enneagram, there are nine personality types which exist along a continuous circle. Everyone supposedly has one personality type, though this type may be influenced by a "wing," that is, by an adjacent point. Here's a good site if you're interested in reading more. Actually, go to that site now even if you're not particularly interested, since I'm about to refer to the image of the enneagram on that site.
Back now? Great. I have, for some time, identified myself as a 2 with a 3 wing. On the site you just visited, 2 is termed "The Helper" and 3, "The Achiever." So, one could say that my basic desire is to help people but I also have a strong desire to achieve things for myself.
Digression over. The sole visual content of my dream was a picture of the enneagram, but each number had a different descriptive word next to it. Next to 2 was the word "communication," and next to 3, the word "insight." There was a very clear realization that I was now too close to the 3-point, and needed to get back to the 2-point.
In remembering this image the following morning, I was momentarily unsure whether I was remembering a dream, or an actual event. Then I realized that the words "communication" and "insight" don't fit in with any enneagram theory that I've ever seen. Indeed, "The Achiever" is usually described as a success-oriented, go-getter type, and the "insight" description doesn't really apply. For me, though, I think it does. The areas in which I care most about achieving have always been mentally oriented (chess being the prime example, but only one). I am fiercely competitive when it comes to mental challenges. Furthermore, lately I've been engaged in a sort of existential effort to try and uncover "the meaning of it all" and this, too, may be deeply related to my need for achievement.
The message of the dream is both clear and accurate: I have become too focused on achieving great personal insight, to the neglect of communicating such insights with others (witness, for example, the dearth of recent entries on this blog).
Come to think of it, maybe my quest for personal enlightenment is also my unborn baby.
Or maybe all of this rambling is a sign that I need to get more sleep that doesn't involve carrying a fetus or floating nine-pointed geometrical figues.
1. Wild, nonsensical dreams full of seemingly random surrealistic imagery. In these dreams, I am completely unaware of myself as a conscious entity.
2. Dreams in which I am a central character but the "I" of the dream is separated from the "I" of my consciousness. That is, my dreaming self watches as "I" live out various fantastical stories.
3. Realistic dreams in which I have the same sort of thought processes as when I am awake. These are the sorts of dreams from which one awakes and asks, "Was I dreaming?"
Sometimes the boundaries are fuzzy, particularly since dreams can have more then one "episode," and so a dream may begin with one level of consciousness and end with another.
Yesterday morning, I awoke with the feeling one has after a Type 3 dream, but soon felt rather silly asking the whole "was I dreaming" question, since the dream could not be called realistic. For starters, I was pregnant.
Pregnant, and a doctor was informing me that I would have to abort my baby. Apparently I had previously undergone a new, innovative procedure making it possible for men to carry babies, but something wasn't going well and for my own safety, the pregnancy would have to be terminated.
Now, up to this point I think I had been having a Type 2 dream. I cannot recall any conscious thoughts in any detail, just basic emotions and reactions (the doctor's news actually came as something of a relief). But then a new scene begins: I'm alone in a hospital room waiting for my operation. I'm wearing a hospital gown and feeling nervous about what's going to happen. Will the surgery go okay? How do I feel about losing my baby? The conscious thoughts are all there, and everything seems completely realistic. I seem to be fully myself, just in a highly unusual circumstance. So, it's a Type 3 dream now. I analyze my own complex feelings about losing my baby until I wake up.
Clearly this is a dream almost begging to be subjected to all sorts of interpretations.* My wife suggests that the baby could symbolize an aspect of my creative life, and I think there's something to this. Still, it's unclear to me whether the dream suggests that I need to abort some aspect of my life, or whether I'm feeling pressure to abort something and should resist.
*Castlerook's really a woman! Or, castlerook really wants to be a woman! He has uterus envy!!
While I'd be fascinated to read any theories my readers may come up with, I'm going to leave the subject of castlerook's pregnancy for now. Believe it or not, I had another dream the same night which I find even more interesting.
I'd been awake about an hour or so before I realized that I had another dream before the "I'm pregnant" dream.
The dream was very brief, and consisted of a single image and a series of thoughts about the image. In my dream, I was looking at a picture of the enneagram.
Necessary digression: the enneagram (or, more specifically, the Enneagram of Personality) is a tool used in personality analysis, sort of like the Myers-Briggs personality typology, but with something of a more mystical basis. In the enneagram, there are nine personality types which exist along a continuous circle. Everyone supposedly has one personality type, though this type may be influenced by a "wing," that is, by an adjacent point. Here's a good site if you're interested in reading more. Actually, go to that site now even if you're not particularly interested, since I'm about to refer to the image of the enneagram on that site.
Back now? Great. I have, for some time, identified myself as a 2 with a 3 wing. On the site you just visited, 2 is termed "The Helper" and 3, "The Achiever." So, one could say that my basic desire is to help people but I also have a strong desire to achieve things for myself.
Digression over. The sole visual content of my dream was a picture of the enneagram, but each number had a different descriptive word next to it. Next to 2 was the word "communication," and next to 3, the word "insight." There was a very clear realization that I was now too close to the 3-point, and needed to get back to the 2-point.
In remembering this image the following morning, I was momentarily unsure whether I was remembering a dream, or an actual event. Then I realized that the words "communication" and "insight" don't fit in with any enneagram theory that I've ever seen. Indeed, "The Achiever" is usually described as a success-oriented, go-getter type, and the "insight" description doesn't really apply. For me, though, I think it does. The areas in which I care most about achieving have always been mentally oriented (chess being the prime example, but only one). I am fiercely competitive when it comes to mental challenges. Furthermore, lately I've been engaged in a sort of existential effort to try and uncover "the meaning of it all" and this, too, may be deeply related to my need for achievement.
The message of the dream is both clear and accurate: I have become too focused on achieving great personal insight, to the neglect of communicating such insights with others (witness, for example, the dearth of recent entries on this blog).
Come to think of it, maybe my quest for personal enlightenment is also my unborn baby.
Or maybe all of this rambling is a sign that I need to get more sleep that doesn't involve carrying a fetus or floating nine-pointed geometrical figues.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Getting the word out
It's been a busy month. The past three weeks have seen a German singing festival (in which I conducted a chorus of nearly 200 people), a chess tournament that didn't actually happen, a trip to Disney World, and a birthday (actually, those last two overlapped).
Blogworthy experiences all, but none is the subject of this entry. I'm actually writing here today for a simple reason: to advertise the blog of a friend of mine, Diary of an immigrant's wife.
Beth and her husband Khalid have, for some time now, been battling Homeland Security's efforts to deport Khalid. The latest developments, sadly, are not very promising.
For what it's worth, Khalid is one of the nicest people I've ever met.
So, click the link, read, and bookmark/follow to get further developments if you wish. And, if you're the sort of person who likes to "get involved," then, please, get involved.
Blogworthy experiences all, but none is the subject of this entry. I'm actually writing here today for a simple reason: to advertise the blog of a friend of mine, Diary of an immigrant's wife.
Beth and her husband Khalid have, for some time now, been battling Homeland Security's efforts to deport Khalid. The latest developments, sadly, are not very promising.
For what it's worth, Khalid is one of the nicest people I've ever met.
So, click the link, read, and bookmark/follow to get further developments if you wish. And, if you're the sort of person who likes to "get involved," then, please, get involved.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Okay Then
In my last blog entry, I wrote the following:
"...This is an effect I've noticed before: when I do a significant amount of teaching, my creative output plummets. Why? And, does this mean that I should simply avoid teaching, or does it meant that my challenge is to learn how to teach while still living creatively?"
The next day, I got a phone call offering me a full-time teaching job for next year (one-year term appointment).
In that moment, it became clear that the answer was the second option--partly because, well, financial concerns do matter.
So in my own words, then, "my challenge (for next year) is to learn how to teach while still living creatively." I suspect what I need to do is to "teach creatively," i.e., to bring my creative spirit to all that I do--even to seemingly dry topics such as solving mathematical equations.
And while I still don't conceive of teaching math as a long-term career*, meeting this challenge can give me the experience necessary to better accomplish whatever comes next.
*I've had some thoughts recently about this as well, but the direction of those thoughts is so terrifying that I can't quite bring myself to talk about them yet, even on a semi-anonymous blog.
I've spent the last two years without a full-time job, giving me the luxury of lots of time for reflection and searching--a luxury which, frankly, I haven't always made good use of. I think I'm leaving the woods for real this time, returning to the world and bringing all the benefits of my personal efforts along with me.
"...This is an effect I've noticed before: when I do a significant amount of teaching, my creative output plummets. Why? And, does this mean that I should simply avoid teaching, or does it meant that my challenge is to learn how to teach while still living creatively?"
The next day, I got a phone call offering me a full-time teaching job for next year (one-year term appointment).
In that moment, it became clear that the answer was the second option--partly because, well, financial concerns do matter.
So in my own words, then, "my challenge (for next year) is to learn how to teach while still living creatively." I suspect what I need to do is to "teach creatively," i.e., to bring my creative spirit to all that I do--even to seemingly dry topics such as solving mathematical equations.
And while I still don't conceive of teaching math as a long-term career*, meeting this challenge can give me the experience necessary to better accomplish whatever comes next.
*I've had some thoughts recently about this as well, but the direction of those thoughts is so terrifying that I can't quite bring myself to talk about them yet, even on a semi-anonymous blog.
I've spent the last two years without a full-time job, giving me the luxury of lots of time for reflection and searching--a luxury which, frankly, I haven't always made good use of. I think I'm leaving the woods for real this time, returning to the world and bringing all the benefits of my personal efforts along with me.
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