I re-read the last three pages of Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy (The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay) again and again. For some reason, that delicious ending gave me everything I needed and so I took more. I won't give it away, but let's say that while war harms us irrevocably, love is stronger than that. War kills and death surrounds us - deaths in vain, deaths of violence, deaths caused by our own negligence and disregard. Yet love is the reason for living. Love bring us to a better place. Love is maybe as close to God as I will ever get.
I'm not really a proper reviewer of books, as I tend to just give my emotional reaction to a story, but that's ok. I am a person led very much by my emotions and so if I love something, it is as high a recommendation as a carefully written rationale. The Hunger Games sometimes took a long time to engage me--the exposition of the second and third book's first halves was necessary but languid--but the best scenes were the action scenes. I tried to think of the hero, Katniss, and whether she was a strong young woman with hero merit or simply a heroine with a pretty face who carries a war forward because she is the sexual objective of men (like so many other contemporary heroines (coughBellaSwancough). But Katniss is strong, and not pretty nor particularly smart. She is plain, and full of fire and anger and does not forgive easily. I was pleased with this new addition to modern feminist characters.
In my own life I strive to let love show me the way. I am having some sort of a love/existential crisis, relationship-wise, but I am choosing to move forward through it and see what the other side holds. Maybe happiness. Maybe hunger. I want to know; I have to know.
Courage is just fear, plus walking.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Monsters We Meet
There once was a young boy who would not eat his vegetables.
“Eat your vegetables,” his father boomed from the head of the table.
The boy cowered in his seat near the end, and again touched the tip of the farthest-away fork tine to the tiny, green bundle of miniature cabbage on his plate.
Brusselsprout.
It wiggled from the contact and settled back into place, upright again just like a bop bag.
The young boy stared at his nemesis, whose flower opening seemed to be sneering at him. He raised an eyebrow—and his fork—and stabbed that Brusselsprout through it’s dead, lukewarm heart. Piercing it with fervor, and plugging his nose with his free hand, the young boy ingested that vegetable. Mastication. A gulp. A sense of victory.
“EAT YOUR VEGETABLES!” his father yelled louder this time, slamming his fist down onto the lacquered oak table.
The young boy grimaced and looked down at his plate. The fallen brusselsprout’s brothers were there, waiting. An army to overtake. A precipice to conquer.
It would be a long night.
“Eat your vegetables,” his father boomed from the head of the table.
The boy cowered in his seat near the end, and again touched the tip of the farthest-away fork tine to the tiny, green bundle of miniature cabbage on his plate.
Brusselsprout.
It wiggled from the contact and settled back into place, upright again just like a bop bag.
The young boy stared at his nemesis, whose flower opening seemed to be sneering at him. He raised an eyebrow—and his fork—and stabbed that Brusselsprout through it’s dead, lukewarm heart. Piercing it with fervor, and plugging his nose with his free hand, the young boy ingested that vegetable. Mastication. A gulp. A sense of victory.
“EAT YOUR VEGETABLES!” his father yelled louder this time, slamming his fist down onto the lacquered oak table.
The young boy grimaced and looked down at his plate. The fallen brusselsprout’s brothers were there, waiting. An army to overtake. A precipice to conquer.
It would be a long night.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Let's Talk About Socialism
Just 1% of Americans own 23.5% of our nation's wealth.
If you haven't read it, Slate has an amazing series of articles about the disappearance of the American middle class. It's called the Great Divergence. If you look at how far the gap between the super-wealthy and the just-getting-by is widening, it is truly scary. I read a couple of months ago that the middle class is so far behind in where it should be re: buying power, that no longer would Black Friday be indicative of the coming year's economy. What is the middle class anyway? To me, it is the ability to be comfortable, maybe have a kid or two. Own my car, go on vacations, and retire without the uncertainty of relying on Social Security/Medicare for my fixed income/healthcare needs. Whatever the middle class means today and 40 years from today (when I'll be retirement age), I don't want to be shut out of it - do you?
If you haven't read it, Slate has an amazing series of articles about the disappearance of the American middle class. It's called the Great Divergence. If you look at how far the gap between the super-wealthy and the just-getting-by is widening, it is truly scary. I read a couple of months ago that the middle class is so far behind in where it should be re: buying power, that no longer would Black Friday be indicative of the coming year's economy. What is the middle class anyway? To me, it is the ability to be comfortable, maybe have a kid or two. Own my car, go on vacations, and retire without the uncertainty of relying on Social Security/Medicare for my fixed income/healthcare needs. Whatever the middle class means today and 40 years from today (when I'll be retirement age), I don't want to be shut out of it - do you?
San Francisco days, Benadryl nights
Since entering adulthood, I've been prone to itchy eyes and skin, the sniffles, and the inability to sleep during an allergy attack. I can't remember who introduced me to Benadryl, but I am so glad they did. I just had the most blissful sleep of my life - delicious dreams, warm body next to me (Bailey's the best snuggler), and drool all over my pillow. Thank goodness its Sunday. Good sleep is hard to come by but harder to deal with on a school night.
Yesterday I participated in one of my most favorite activities in the world: rearranging the furniture. Whenever I feel slightly off, or down, or frustrated by the insurmountable task that is house-cleaning, I rearrange the furniture. This time I moved the bookshelves (the centerpiece of my house, naturally) clear across the room. My bookshelves are huge and heavy and I had to unload all of the books before I could move them. So I did and with that much dust flew but now I have beautiful shelves and my books are rearranged in my favorite order - from important to really good to pretty good to okay. My top shelf includes my Salinger collection, the dictionary, Tosltoy, Dostoevsky, greek mythology, the Decameron, Wally Lamb and John Irving. Read into that what you will.
So the house is rearranged, mostly clean, coffee's on, and it's a beautiful day. In one week, Scott and I will be on our way to Mexico for vacation. We're going to the Riu Palace in Cabo San Lucas. We will miss Bailey, of course (who will be enjoying his time at Pet Camp), but we will be well-entertained with booze, chilequiles, and swimming. So there is that to very much look forward to. I love November - the cool, crisp air, the impending end of the usually-difficult Fall Semester, the cute and fashionable layering of clothes. Here's to another wonderful one in San Francisco.
Yesterday I participated in one of my most favorite activities in the world: rearranging the furniture. Whenever I feel slightly off, or down, or frustrated by the insurmountable task that is house-cleaning, I rearrange the furniture. This time I moved the bookshelves (the centerpiece of my house, naturally) clear across the room. My bookshelves are huge and heavy and I had to unload all of the books before I could move them. So I did and with that much dust flew but now I have beautiful shelves and my books are rearranged in my favorite order - from important to really good to pretty good to okay. My top shelf includes my Salinger collection, the dictionary, Tosltoy, Dostoevsky, greek mythology, the Decameron, Wally Lamb and John Irving. Read into that what you will.
So the house is rearranged, mostly clean, coffee's on, and it's a beautiful day. In one week, Scott and I will be on our way to Mexico for vacation. We're going to the Riu Palace in Cabo San Lucas. We will miss Bailey, of course (who will be enjoying his time at Pet Camp), but we will be well-entertained with booze, chilequiles, and swimming. So there is that to very much look forward to. I love November - the cool, crisp air, the impending end of the usually-difficult Fall Semester, the cute and fashionable layering of clothes. Here's to another wonderful one in San Francisco.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Virginia Woolf
I asked my writing teacher how I might expedite the process of writing. I find myself languishing over every minutia in a scene - the subtle raising of an eyebrow, the grasping of opposite elbows in a reveal of self-consciousness. In short, it takes me forever to get to the dialogue and get the scene underway and finished.
I really liked his advice in that he gave none: "Well, someone once asked Virginia Woolf how she had done after hours and hours of writing and she answered, 'I did okay - I managed to get her from the bedroom into the drawing room.'"
And so I toil, but I do so love Virginia Woolf and therefore greatly appreciated his advice. Here is one of my favorite Woolf quotes, from A Room of One's Own:
I really liked his advice in that he gave none: "Well, someone once asked Virginia Woolf how she had done after hours and hours of writing and she answered, 'I did okay - I managed to get her from the bedroom into the drawing room.'"
And so I toil, but I do so love Virginia Woolf and therefore greatly appreciated his advice. Here is one of my favorite Woolf quotes, from A Room of One's Own:
The beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
Monday, November 8, 2010
I should be writing
I should be writing fiction right now, but instead I'd rather blog. It's much easier to write about myself than it is to project myself onto a character and then write from that voice. It's all so meta. Given my inextricable narcissism, you would think this would be an easy task for me. Alas, it's not: I'm horrifically self-conscious yet entirely self-involved. Epic levels or arrogance matched with self-deprecation. A leo lioness with a moon in Pisces, a little guppy fish with the heart of a shark.
This weekend I learned that I love art because of what it means to people, to movements, and to society as a forward-moving organism. The Van Gogh, Guaguin, Cezanne and Beyond exhibit was beautiful. It was intensely inspiring to be in a room with paintings that were life-changing for the artist, world-changing for art, and art-changing for society. To look at Van Gogh's broad and fierce brush strokes--the madness of pieces fitting together but with the seams showing, the manifestation of the hard and lonely life that is the choice to be an artist--is breathtaking.
Take the time to be yourselves, dear Readers. Listen to your heart and let it take you where it may. Make that difficult choice - you are the only one who can.
This weekend I learned that I love art because of what it means to people, to movements, and to society as a forward-moving organism. The Van Gogh, Guaguin, Cezanne and Beyond exhibit was beautiful. It was intensely inspiring to be in a room with paintings that were life-changing for the artist, world-changing for art, and art-changing for society. To look at Van Gogh's broad and fierce brush strokes--the madness of pieces fitting together but with the seams showing, the manifestation of the hard and lonely life that is the choice to be an artist--is breathtaking.
Take the time to be yourselves, dear Readers. Listen to your heart and let it take you where it may. Make that difficult choice - you are the only one who can.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The intensity of criticism
Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there. Neck on the line, balls to the wall, pedal to the metal, and not a backwards glance.
Offering myself up for criticism--true reflection in the harshest and brightest of lights--is often the hardest thing I ever have to do. Harder than eating no carbs for two weeks. Harder than breaking up with someone who is poisonous, but so addictive. Harder than saying goodbye to an addiction. Harder than really saying no to myself, putting down the keys when I'm too drunk to drive. Some of the aforementioned come with age (maybe) and some of it was learned through hard lessons. But what each has in common is that at the time I thought it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And each one's passing has resulted in my being a better person, a stronger person, a more truthful person.
If every scar is a battle wound, I am an evident warrior.
When I was a little girl, my teacher asked me if I knew what the strongest material on Earth was. I had just leaned this--diamonds are stronger than any other organic material--but instead of answering correctly I said, "Human flesh. Because it heals."
It hurts, but it heals.
Offering myself up for criticism--true reflection in the harshest and brightest of lights--is often the hardest thing I ever have to do. Harder than eating no carbs for two weeks. Harder than breaking up with someone who is poisonous, but so addictive. Harder than saying goodbye to an addiction. Harder than really saying no to myself, putting down the keys when I'm too drunk to drive. Some of the aforementioned come with age (maybe) and some of it was learned through hard lessons. But what each has in common is that at the time I thought it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And each one's passing has resulted in my being a better person, a stronger person, a more truthful person.
If every scar is a battle wound, I am an evident warrior.
When I was a little girl, my teacher asked me if I knew what the strongest material on Earth was. I had just leaned this--diamonds are stronger than any other organic material--but instead of answering correctly I said, "Human flesh. Because it heals."
It hurts, but it heals.
Monday, November 1, 2010
New Beginnings, Old Vices
I wrote to my mother today. This is momentous for me for a few reasons, not excluding the fact that I have not written or spoken to her in more than a year. It is funny - I see her in my mannerisms and movements more every day. I cringe when I think about how utterly similar we are. We run from that which is good for us or ties us down. We smile and woo entire rooms. Why are parent-child relationships so complicated? If it were easy, this would be a sitcom. But it's not, so it's more like the movie "Happiness" (I kid, I kid).
So I am going to Israel in March. I am also going on a diet so I am more comfortable for the damn 15-hour flight. We shall see. I may track my progress here, but I probably won't since I am loathe to blog about body issues. Instead I will blog about my life.
Tomorrow is election day. Though I share a name with her (phonetically, anyway) I am NOT voting for Carly Fiorina. I am, however, voting liberal across the board. I feel like even though midterm elections are a "referendum on the President," as I learned on NPR this weekend, the time is nigh to be liberal and stay liberal. Do not back down from the yes-we-can-fight-call. Tow the line that this country can be better and will be better if we take our heads out of our asses and put education, health, social prosperity before corporate bottom lines.
I love Roger Ebert. I follow his Twitter feed religiously. Here is a link to something everyone MUST read: the 8 major myths that GOP shoves down this uneducated populations' throat, CORRECTED: http://www.ourfuture.org/blog-entry/2010104222/false-things-public-knows-they-go-vote.
So I am going to Israel in March. I am also going on a diet so I am more comfortable for the damn 15-hour flight. We shall see. I may track my progress here, but I probably won't since I am loathe to blog about body issues. Instead I will blog about my life.
Tomorrow is election day. Though I share a name with her (phonetically, anyway) I am NOT voting for Carly Fiorina. I am, however, voting liberal across the board. I feel like even though midterm elections are a "referendum on the President," as I learned on NPR this weekend, the time is nigh to be liberal and stay liberal. Do not back down from the yes-we-can-fight-call. Tow the line that this country can be better and will be better if we take our heads out of our asses and put education, health, social prosperity before corporate bottom lines.
I love Roger Ebert. I follow his Twitter feed religiously. Here is a link to something everyone MUST read: the 8 major myths that GOP shoves down this uneducated populations' throat, CORRECTED: http://www.ourfuture.org/blog-entry/2010104222/false-things-public-knows-they-go-vote.
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