Never let the Stoic buy the groceries.
That simple axiom can be applied in so many ways, in so many settings. Stoicism likely has its place in life, but Epicureans should always be entrusted to the things that make life worth living. I'm an Epicurean to the bone, without a doubt. I savor the pleasures of life, in all their forms. And it's true -- I think it's part of what lets me be a generally happy camper, even when things are rough: I find the fun, and I find the funny. I savor life -- even when life hurls a cream pie in my face, I'm one to take a lick and say "Hmm. Tasty." Not really. I HATE cream pies.
*shudder*
I feel that love is best understood by Romantics, and not by Classicists. I remember in high school, for sure by my junior year, realizing in an epiphany that I was a Romantic. I told a friend of mine (himself, a tried-and-true Classicist), in English class: "Tom, I'm a Romantic!" and he laughed, said he was a Classicist, and that he knew I was a Romantic, just from the stuff I'd say in class. That amused me.
Byron's works, Shelley's poems -- they really hit me hard, framed so much of my sense of self, and of the world. I remember reading Shelley's stuff out loud in my room and just loving the dance of his language. It was so clearly-defined to me, I can actually remember that conversation, can see it in my mind's eye so well. It's funny to me -- I think Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" is a bit of a sly answer to her own father's Romantic, revolutionary spirit, and, of course, to her husband's Romantic vision. But I'll talk about that some other time.
Epicurean. Romantic. Yup. Me. Okay, so, maybe idealistic, but so what? What's the opposite of idealism? Realism. In other words: ZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZzzzz
Anyway, if you know a Stoic, remember those words. Never let'em buy the groceries, buy the gifts, pick the music, or plan the parties. Just don't. Seriously. Don't.
