I've been rereading Discipline and Punish on the train to and from work these last few days. I know a lot of you are thinking, "Why the hell would anyone read Foucault when they didn't have to?" But I tend to get a lot more out of books when I read them of my own volition, rather than as part of an assignment. When some philosophy text is assigned I can sling all sorts of comments and questions back to the professor, but they're all just academic (no pun intended). I never really ask myself how I feel about what's being said. So now that I'm rereading this on my own time, I find myself slipping into the habit of detaching myself and coming up with various clinically interesting asides. But so far it's been impossible for me to discover my own feelings regarding these ideas. Does this mean that I've lost touch with myself? I have some pretty strong emotions about other things without even breaking a sweat, so why isn't a book discussing the takeover of the (for lack of a better word) soul by a society obsessed with power eliciting more of a response? Has my scientific education trapped me into holding anything intellectual at arms length for careful dissection and rebuttal?
Sadly, I've found myself doing this in conversations, as well. Someone will bring up Controversy A or Interesting Point B, and I'll find myself shuttling back and forth between various opposing viewpoints just to play Devil's Advocate. However, when someone says, "But do you really believe that?" I can't answer, because I don't really know.
Being almost exclusively left-brained has had its advantages, but lately I've been wishing more and more for an intuitive outlook on life. Plus, being artistic would be a nice change. But that's a frustration for another diary entry.
Posted on June 18, 2002 12:00 PM