Monday, March 31, 2008

Potpourri


This reminds me of my now-obsolete green-dress problem: For reasons inexplicable to myself, I am possessed by the idea of pink patent shoes.

Who hasn't been through the "What do you like to read?" test? Heavens, I've given that test...But some people diagree: "It’s part of the romantic tragedy of our age that our partners must be seen as compatible on every level."

When I was little, I once prayed for a cat, and God sent me one. But really, I'm never sure why I asked in the first place: Dear cat maker, I like cats, but don't really trust them.

Oh my goodness--someone stole my pink car/blue car idea: "A fleet of pink taxis with female drivers spares the women here the callous flirtation of male cabbies."

Sunday, March 30, 2008

On Preservation

According to Wikipedia, a polyseme is "a word or phrase with multiple, related meanings." I recently heard a lecture in which the speaker argued that polysemy should be eliminated. This is perhaps, even above rudeness to one's friends, the cardinal sin in my eyes. This is applying an enlightenment scheme of the possibility of unbiased knowledge to language. Language, which offers, particularly through poetry, a mystical and mythical way to get at being. The layers of language and the etymology of words bring a richness to meaning and don't just clutter and confuse.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

If My Family Were a Movie

Stolen, from a blogger who I won't admit to reading, so unfortunately can't acknowledge, but who cast Megan Follows to play her. This made me want to cast myself. It is a close call between Megan Follows and Jeanne Crain; I'll choose the latter to mix it up and because she's fabulously spastic and dramatic and possibly our noses are similar (and I am quite vain about my nose).




Harrison Ford gets to be my father. Although Harrison Ford is aging a bit quickly and would be too old to play the role. He does have a great name, though. And white hair is important. It is also important to embrace one's white hair. I think we've gotten my father to this point.








Meredith Baxter would play my mama (I have to call her that so she knows it's me when I call. Mama, not Meredith. I find it very disconcerting to call home and not have my voice recognized.).











Stearns would be Scarlett Johansson. I'm not sure of the characters of any of these actors/actresses, but Scarlett Johansson strikes me as having some shy/uber-feminine attitude, which I think Stearns also cultivates.







The boy, who does, despite various claims to the contrary, exist, would be played by Michael Cera (From Juno. Don't worry--he won't read this.). Funny, tall, sort of quiet, athletic.










Aww! There are no sufficiently virtuous/angelic actresses to be Illana. But I think that Parminder Nagra is sufficiently pretty/fashionable and, in Bend It Like Beckham, anyway, sporty.






Coming next week: If My House Were a Movie...

Friday, March 28, 2008

Agrarians and Love Songs


Several weeks ago, one of my friends, known here as Whigwham, and I were discussing the Jordin Sparks song, "No Air," which includes the repeating lines, "Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air / Can't live, can't breathe with no air / That's how i feel whenever you ain't there." My friend posed a very interesting question--can agrarianism make sense of modernity as expressed in love songs? He writes,

What I was getting at more, though, was the specifically *modern* love song. I wouldn't deny that the agrarian world is capable of love songs -- on the contrary, I think bluegrass has some of the most moving love "poetry" in the musical world. What I'm getting at with the modern love song is the love song that is borne from the devastatingly lonely position the (post)modern finds him/herself in. Without the social structures in place, one is subject to the temptation to invest all of ones relational potential into romantic love. Moreover, given the truncation of being, and the corresponding lack of transcendence, not only does the modern invest all human attachment in romantic love, but he/she injects the divine pull into the mix. I think this might offer a partial account of the interesting love/worship song genre. Certainly, love songs have always imaged divine love (e.g., Song of Songs), but nowadays you seem to get love songs that actually make *more* sense as worship. This Chris Brown song might be an example -- one might think that in the past one would refer to God as that being which is analogous to such a basic need as breath.

So the desperate situation of the modern leads to the unique scope of the modern love song. And, then, because the modern expects too much from romantic love, the consequences of lost love become even more tragic. And this is what I think the agrarian view (or any view which attempts to transplant extinct social structures) has to be able to account for (but I don't think can). Can the existence (and appreciation?) of the modern love song be grounded on agrarian premises?

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Rant: In Which Men are Conspicuously Absent

Someone needs to fix Jstor! The search is impossible to manage. It needs to be like the Google toolbar where you click on one of your search terms and the computer hops around to each one in the document and shows it to you. This is not all that difficult. I'm sure someone can fix this. Perhaps it is too late and I'm hallucinating.

To Name is to Know and Remember


Words
By Dana Gioia

The world does not need words. It articulates itself
in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path
are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted.
The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being.
The kiss is still fully itself though no words were spoken.

And one word transforms it into something less or other—
illicit, chaste, perfunctory, conjugal, covert.
Even calling it a kiss betrays the fluster of hands
glancing the skin or gripping a shoulder, the slow
arching of neck or knee, the silent touching of tongues.

Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot
name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica.
To see a red stone is less than seeing it as jasper—
metamorphic quartz, cousin to the flint the Kiowa
carved as arrowheads. To name is to know and remember.

The sunlight needs no praise piercing the rainclouds,
painting the rocks and leaves with light, then dissolving
each lucent droplet back into the clouds that engendered it.
The daylight needs no praise, and so we praise it always—
greater than ourselves and all the airy words we summon.

In the first stanza, Gioia discusses language as not necessary to existence (in a way that Hannah Arendt would disagree with, since for her, language and thinking are connected to being). In the second stanza, Gioia moves to the dangers of language--hypostatization--the tendency for language to turn experiences into "ideas," disconnected from the reality that inspired them and made to be artificially cocooned inside of language. In spite of the dangers inherent in language, in the next stanza we see the way in which language and words are necessary to a deep understanding of the thing that the word refers to (and how words transmit those ideas over generations). In the final stanza, we see the Aristotelian distinction between praising and blessing (although he uses the word "praise," he is really talking about blessing here). This is the culmination of language--where it is unnecessary, but where we cannot keep ourselves from using it (and here is the vocation of the artist, as Gioia explains in his essay on art and passion).

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Crash

This is the movie I've seen that incarnates most fully Tocqueville's thought--particularly his answer of face-to-face communication for the problems of the individualistic democratic soul.



This film explores specific barriers to face-to-face communication. These barriers reinforce stereotypes that prove to be the cause of tragic actions in the film. One barrier is the language barrier itself (I feel the pain of the man who can't communicate in English here due to my language-learning problem). Another barrier is due to power relationships that silence one group--in this film the black man is silenced--he is prevented from speaking by the threat of jail as his wife is assaulted in front of him. A barrier that results from this silencing is his inability to communicate with his wife as he cannot convey to her his great grief and humiliation.

In spite of these barriers, the film is not entirely tragic: in the end, a policeman who once assaulted a woman heroically rescues her from a burning car--in this rescue (involving face-to-face interaction), we see that he is changed.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Easter Monday


In Slovakia on Easter Monday, the boys throw buckets of water on the girls and beat the girls with sticks. And the girls like it, or so we are told. Supposedly the water keeps the girls beautiful, purifies them and helps them grow; they are whipped gently with a branch to keep evil away. In return, the girls give the boys money, eggs and alcohol.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Plato on Publishing


Or, more accurately, Voegelin on Plato on publishing:

"Those who publish what they have learned, whether from direct instruction, or through other information, or through their own discovery, certainly have understood nothing."

--Order and History.3

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Easter: An Assortment

Bridal shower, church, grandparents, zucchini bread, hot chocolate, basketball and wrestling (and an interview with a wrestler who claims that he cooks and holds a sewing circle at his house).



Easter Communion

Pure fasted faces draw unto this feast:
God comes all sweetness to your Lenten lips.
You striped in secret with breath-taking whips,
Those crooked rough-scored chequers may be pieced
To crosses meant for Jesu's; you whom the East
With draught of thin and pursuant cold so nips
Breathe Easter now; you serged fellowships,
You vigil-keepers with low flames decreased,

God shall o'er-brim the measures you have spent
With oil of gladness, for sackcloth and frieze
And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment
Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease.
Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent:
Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.

Gerard Manley Hopkins



On the Superiority of European Greetings:

Dear Friends, Greetings to you all on this Easter morn. May the peace and joy of our Risen Lord reign in your hearts and those of your loved ones. That for which we longed, has now come to pass. Alleluia! I hope that I will see each of you soon to share in our Easter gladness.



“My dearest friends, standing with me in this holy light, join me in asking God for mercy, that he may give his unworthy minister grace to sing his Easter praises.” (from Exsultet)

Dragi prijatelji,to Veliko noč bom prvič praznoval velike skrivnosti naše vere kot duhovnik.Ob tem praznovanju mi misli hitijo k vsakemu od vas, ki ste mi na kakršen koli način stali ob strani na poti priprave k duhovništvu. Bogu se zahavljujem za vas in vas priporočam njegovi milosti.

As we will shortly sing “Easter praises” on this holy night,I wish you many blessings so that your ears would hear the Word of the Father and your hearts would celebrate his mysteries. I pray that you would look forward with hope to our own resurrection,since the Father made us his sons and daughters,and restored our joy. As I humbly ask you to pray for me, I promise my prayers.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Not the Most Common Nickname for the Washington Monument

[Three middle aged tourists on the Orange Line]

Tourist 1: Where should we get off to go to the White House?

Tourist 2: We should get off at the Smithsonian, and we can go to the big pointy thing too.

EvesdropDC (best site ever)

Thursday, March 20, 2008

On Kentucky


Due to my friendship with several Kentuckians, the first I've known, over the last couple of years, I can't help but have an admiration for the state. I've really never seen such an intense patriotism for any other state (with the exception of Oklahoma). One of my Kentucky friends is planning to put this poem to music and play it on his mandolin.


"In Kentucky" (1902) by James Mulligan

The moonlight falls the softest
In Kentucky;
The summer's days come oft'est
In Kentucky;
Friendship is the strongest,
Love's fires glow the longest;
Yet, a wrong is always wrongest
In Kentucky.

The sunshine's ever brightest
In Kentucky;
The breezes whisper lightest
In Kentucky;
Plain girls are the fewest,
Maidens' eyes the bluest,
Their little hearts are truest
In Kentucky.

Life's burdens bear the lightest
In Kentucky;
The home fires burn the brightest
In Kentucky;
While players are the keenest,
Cards come out the meanest,
The pocket empties cleanest
In Kentucky.

Orators are the grandest
In Kentucky;
Officials are the blandest
In Kentucky;
Boys are all the fliest,
Danger ever nighest,
Taxes are the highest
In Kentucky.

The bluegrass waves the bluest
In Kentucky;
Yet bluebloods are the fewest (?)
In Kentucky;
Moonshine is the clearest,
By no means the dearest,
And yet, it acts the queerest,
In Kentucky.

The dove's notes are the saddest
In Kentucky;
The streams dance on the gladdest
In Kentucky;
Hip pockets are the thickest,
Pistol hands the slickest,
The cylinder turns quickest
In Kentucky.

Song birds are the sweetest
In Kentucky;
The thoroughbreds the fleetest
In Kentucky;
Mountains tower proudest,
Thunder peals the loudest,
The landscape is the grandest - and
Politics - the damnedest
In Kentucky.


Notes: I love the use of "fly" as a positive descriptor; it reminds me of "She's so fly." The third stanza is about gambling (which I didn't pick up at first). Their "little hearts are truest"--I can tell you right now, the feminists would love this line.

So from the first stanza we see the point of the poem--the extremes that Kentucky holds. The good things there are best and the bad things there are worst. It is interesting that the bad extremes would be praised by the writer of the poem, but maybe it is precisely this inclusion of irony in localism or love for one's place that makes it palatable and even endearing. Or perhaps JBL would tell us that it is because the good is so pure in Kentucky that any deviation from it sticks out very strongly.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

On Work

I am not this bad: "'I want to be an eternal student,' he said. 'Just learning for learning's sake.'" But I do resent the article's insinuation that academics is not the real world (see the title, "French students shy of real world"--frankly, I hate any discussions of the real world; the only things that I don't think qualify are video games, and that is just because I don't like them). Although separating being a student from any use of the student's education is problematic (Frankincense can rant here about the problems that can arise from glorifying liberal education).



All that to say, when you're in a profession that offers only a few jobs, you begin to want one. I want a job. Badly. There. I want a job in Pennsylvania, too.

On Chocolate Souffles and Metaphors




Many people find the experience of making a soufflé difficult or nerve-wrecking. Some worry that their soufflé will never rise while others are distraught that the soufflé needs to be perfectly timed to be served on the table. This is fair enough: soufflés are whimsical and play tricks whenever they please. They often fall almost as quickly as they rise. They are the boss; I have had a few misadventures and frustrations with them too, trust me.

But how much fun they are to make and eat; we agree, don’t we?


The souffle I love is traditional; it has an egg base (utilizing both yolks and whites) and some sugar, Grand Marnier and vanilla added (although the last two can be left out if all you really want is chocolate). Souffles have an unfair reputation for being difficult to make, but once you've made one, you realize that it's not difficult; it's just timing that matters.


I now realize that she was right; souffles are temperamental, and each type of souffle requires a different approach. ... At its best, a souffle has a crusty exterior packed with flavor, a dramatic rise above the rim, an airy but substantial outer layer, and a rich, loose center that is not completely set. ... From the start, I knew it was going to take a lot of detective work to find the secrets of this delicate thoroughbred of a desert.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Fabulous Things I Heard on the Radio

"Get the fresh eyes you deserve."

(About a product that gets rid of dark circles under your eyes; I am anticipating the institution of a new human right--the "right to no dark circles under your eyes.")

Monday, March 17, 2008

On Sex

In this NYTimes article about "transmen" or "transmales" (women who decide to be men), we see this underlying idea that gender is chosen and that any person, including a child, can make a choice about his gender:

And some of these parents, under a doctor’s supervision, have even begun to administer hormone blockers to prevent the arrival of secondary sex characteristics until a “gender variant” child is old enough to make permanent choices. The Internet also offers greater access to information about transmale and gender-variant identities.
This reminds me of an Ursula LeGuin short story about a society in which peoples' sex can change from month to month. Not only is the enlightenment, individualistic aspect of this quotation distressing (in which the assumption is that we can transcend ourselves and make an informed decision about what we want to be), but possibly even more distressing is the fact that the Internet is the new community that informs our choices. This is like going to New York City to learn how to drive. And, once again, implicit here is the idea that information can be unbiased.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Atonement.2


I'm really sick of no one finding any semblance of atonement in the film of that name. For instance, Thomas Hibbs writes,

The film is not really about atonement, but about its impossibility. Thus, it too binds nihilism and art — or to be more precise, attempts to overcome nihilism through art in a way typical of contemporary film.

Okay, point taken--art can't solve all of our problems. But couldn't the film be a sort of penance? Couldn't she be using her work to make some reparation?

Obviously humans cannot actually make amends for their sins. This is why we need Christ, right? But we can do something, and it seems to me that this film portrays a brave and painful act of at least attempted penance.

Plus, Keira Knightley has a fabulous green dress.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Margie

An awkward girl (maybe this is why I identify with this film) whose bloomers always fall down ends up marrying the very handsome French teacher. While I've just spoiled the film for you, dear reader, this should not prevent you from watching this delightful film, preferrably with me. And the song in this clip, A Cup of Coffee, A Sandwhich and You, is also charming.

This brings up the question of spoilers--I don't think that there is any such thing. I'd much rather know what happens before it happens. Then it is like watching the film a second time through on the first viewing. Since I'm so slow at "getting" the meaning, it is necessary to enlighten me before hand.

Friday, March 14, 2008

“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.”




I wonder if this isn't where we need more and more faith as we get closer to Christ--you realize more and more the great miracle that it is that God heals us enough to receive Him and not die. When you have a glimpse of your inadaquacy, it makes you really wonder...

Surrogate Mothers

Goodness gracious--this is stressful on so many levels--the outsourcing of surrogate motherhood. I mean, we have the typical IVF concerns about divorcing sex from procreation, we have typical outsourcing concerns, not to mention concerns about these modern-day parents--I mean, what sort of mother would be okay with her child spending his first nine months in someone else's body, being treated who-knows-how (what sort of food is she eating, exercise is she taking, etc.?)? For crying out loud, first, we're shipping our children off for pre-school and day care and now we're shipping them off to go through pregnancy all by themselves.

On Navigation


I don't understand the internet and this frustrates me--I don't understand precisely what it is and I sure as hell don't know where it is. Goodness gracious, how could Al Gore have invented it? How could anyone have invented it? Where, in fact, did it come from?

Phrases like, "dark fiber, strung around the world" don't help at all. Precision of language, please! You can't report the news in poetry and metaphors (and I believe poetry helps almost every situation).

For my contribution to greater clarity on these issues, I'm posting a map of the internet (although it isn't clear to me where it will help you go).

Thursday, March 13, 2008

On Mailmen

I love letters. Finishing the letter I was typing this morning made me think of the great joy that postmen must have of carrying "real mail." Carrying letters between regular correspondents must be intriguing. If I were a mailman/mail person, I would make up stories about what they were communicating and probably as a result deliver the wrong mail to the wrong house (or serve plum pudding with a sauce in which a mouse drowned).


My family has a rich tradition of mail carrying. Okay, so it was only for two generations--my grandfather was a postman and two of my uncles are mail carriers. What an agrarian occupation! My grandfather, when he hears of an old friend or acquaintance, will often list off his address--"Oh, he lived at 222 Lynn Street." Mailmen intimately know their place and facilitate communication; as we know, place and communication are two of the greatest goods.



Here is an excerpt from a letter of E. (Elwyn!) B. White to his new wife: "Dear Katharine (very dear): I've had moments of despair during the last week which have added years to my life and put many new thoughts in my head. Always, however, I have ended on a cheerful note of hope, based on the realization that you are the person to whom I return and that you are the recurrent phrase in my life. I realized that so strongly one day a couple of weeks ago when, after being away among people I wasn't sure of and in circumstances I had doubts about, I came back and walked into your office and saw how real and incontrovertible you seemed. ... [B]eing with you is like walking on a very clear morning--definitely the sensation of belonging there."


This reminds me of the Lost a couple of weeks ago when it was the communication with the woman he loved that saved Desmond and helped him stabilize in a particular time and place.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Philadelphia's Outdoor Art Or In Praise of Pennsylvania

Philadelphia has one of the largest concentrations of outdoor art in the country. A sampling:








Outdoor art seems like the obvious way to reconnect art and everyday life, and halt the increasing separation between artists and their audience (evidenced in poetry, for instance, by Dana Gioia's essay, "Can Poetry Matter?").

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

On Docility

So I am taking a class this semester on prudence because I'm not very prudent. When studying the integral parts of prudence in the Summa, I realized that I am docile. Very docile. So the question is, can one be too docile? Do you correct the weaknesses of docility by strengthening the other parts of prudence (such as acumen)? Can you grow acumen or should you just settle with docility?

Thomas writes about the importance of docility: "[P]rudence deals with particular matters of action. Since these are infinite in their variety, one person alone cannot consider them all sufficiently; he would take ages, not a short space of time. ... Aristotle observes that the unproved assertions and opinions of experienced, old, and sagacious people deserve as much attention as those they support by proofs, for experience gives them an eye for principles. This is the bidding of Scripture, Lean not upon your own prudence; also, Stand with the multitude of the priests--that is, the seniors--that are wise, and join yourself from your heart to their wisdom."

This resonates with me and sums up some important motivations for my project (as yet, excessively vague) concerning tradition.

Monday, March 10, 2008

When You Were Cheatin' (As the Country Singers Say) Or On Buying Sex (As the Feminists Say)


This is a secondary quotation, which is/ought to be frowned on, but anyway, I'd rather link to the feminist blog:

When politicians are caught cheating, I'd wish they'd leave their wives in the green room while they address the press. You're in the dog house, and it should look that way. Those "stand by your man" visuals are tired and demeaning.
I couldn't agree more. It seems to me that you'd only be able to stand by your husband in that circumstance if you A) were a very, very strong woman; B) didn't love him; C) it wasn't a shock; or D) his career comes before your relationship. And most of those are just problems.

This reminds me of Aristotle's beautiful passage on faithfulness:

Now a virtuous wife is best honored when she sees that her husband is faithful to her, and has no preference for another woman; but before all others loves and trusts her and holds her as his own. And so much the more will the woman seek to be what he accounts her. If she perceives that her husband's affection for her is faithful and righteous, she too will be faithful and righteous towards him. Therefore it befits not a man of sound mind to bestow his person promiscuously, or have random intercourse with women; for otherwise the base-born will share in the rights of his lawful children, and his wife will be robbed of her honor due, and shame be attached to his sons.And it is fitting that he should approach his wife in honor, full of self-restraint and awe; and in his conversation with her, should use only the words of a right-minded man, suggesting only such acts as are themselves lawful and honorable.


Serendipity and the Internet

Still truck--This is not the ideal kind of truck. This is somewhat similar to my own "still car"--the one that sat unmoved in our apartment parking lot for months because the ignition module failed and DC has absurdly high prices for mechanics.

How do leopards move--By silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row. Was this really about the persecution of Catholics in England? I'm not sure I buy this.

I love my marine--I don't. I don't love your marine, and I don't love my own marine. Why? A) The word on the street is that the marines are not at all family-friendly. The air force is way more, evidently. But B) The military as a whole seems a horribly difficult way to live and raise a family, moving from town to town. As one of my professors advised me, You can't help who your heart loves, but I would add, you can certainly fuss at it for choosing ill.

old age insults--Despite being [frequently] accused of ageism, I'm really always the one explaining the biblical affirmation of white hair: "The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness." Proverbs 16:31

"cooking a cow"--It is important to call it a cow, rather than beef. In fact, if it home-raised and you've named it, it is best to call it by its given name. Really, one could even pretend he was cooking his cat by calling the beef "Bob."


Leopards in Christianity--The role of the leopard in Christianity is quite similar to that of the moose, really.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Inadverdant Guestblog: My Austen-Hating "Friend," Whigwham


In Tom Hibbs's "Shows about Nothing," he cites favorably the analysis of Mark Edmundson when he claims that contemporary popular culture is a conflict between the Gothic and the genre of "facile transcendence." Explaining, Hibbs writes, "Facile transcendence, found in films like Forest Gump, the self-help movement, and even the revival of Jane Austen, dismisses the Gothic as juvenile and embodies the hope of an easy way out of contemporary confusion." This facile nature of the Austen revival reminds me of the introductions to the playing of the movies on PBS recently. That actress (I forget her name, she plays Scully on X-files), charmingly yet almost smugly introduces the Austen movie to be viewed with a sort of satisfaction in the fittingness and delightfulness of it all. Anyway, perhaps this is another way of describing the problematic Romanticism of Austen, or at least of the attempt to resurrect and appropriate Austen as a feminine savior to our rotten, degenerate culture (Cf. our discussions about the problematic nature of trying to transplant extinct social structures into contemporary society).


Hale's Note: I sort of like the idea of Austen as a feminine savior of our rotten, degenerate culture.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

On Grief

Several points:

A) It seems to me we ought to feel it. It reminds me of the line, "A sword shall pierce thy own heart also," which is about Mary (evidently the Catholics call her BVM; I saw it in a hymnal). So if Mary hadn't been grieved and anguished, we would have wondered what was wrong, even though with Christ's death the possibility for redemption became real. Even though those who die in grace are with the Lord/in purgatory, it is right for us to grieve.

B) Grieving away from home is just another instance of the evil of being away from home. Trying to sort through your grief over someone with absolutely no one nearby who knew that person is a very difficult task (of course moderated by fabulous friends who listen well!).

C) The difference between communal grief and private grief is striking. William Buckley's death, for instance, was mourned many people I know (this gives away the political persuasion of my acquaintances), some of whom were seriously dismayed. I was with an acquaintance of mine when he heard of Buckley's death. He got noticeably upset and put his head down on his desk. But he didn't know Buckley. Does it even make sense to grieve, then?

Friday, March 7, 2008

Against Haircuts

I'm crazy about Amy Winehouse's hair. Okay, I like her tattoos, too. Frankly, my infatuation with Amy Winehouse started when a friend posted her Rehab song on my facebook wall. I think it wasn't supposed to be a recommendation.









Thursday, March 6, 2008

Toward Developing a Passionate Interest in American Politics



The Texas Two-Step--Who is surprised that the Texans would do something in their own unique, special, way and be very proud of that difference? Voting twice in one day? This doesn't even make any sense. This is part of the "We're such a large state; we have everything you need; why would you ever leave?" syndrome: "Some states have primaries. Some states have caucuses. We have both. Booyah."

Do over? Florida and Michigan don't count, so let's do it all again. Why not? But who pays?

Pennsylvania! The next high-profile state up for its primary. Its primary is so late that it typically isn't influential; since it will be this year, and since its primary is so significantly later than other primaries, it will receive a lot of attention from the candidates, which is only fitting, of course, for my dear state. So which way will it go? Possibly Obama. Although Pennsylvania doesn't strike me as the most open, forward-looking, change-interested state, it's also not hard-core Democrat, but rather a more moderate, non-ideological state.

Goodness gracious, I got such a guilt-tripping last night over American politics. My response: "In five years no one will have any interest in this." My guilt tripper: "Do you live all of your life like this?" Absolutely.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

I'm Every Woman

The song of Tocqueville's democratic man (or, in this case, woman; unless, of course, we pass Tocqueville and gender becomes irrelevant):

Whatever you want,
Whatever you need,
Anything you want done, baby,
I'll do it naturally
'Cause I'm every woman
It's all in me.
It's all in me.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

On Cats

I forgot how much I dislike cats when I agreed to house sit this week. I think it is because purring sounds like (and must be related to) growling. Also on the subject of cats (and other lovable animals), my father sent an email to my siblings and I this morning with the subject line, "You guys will like these/ Emily Hale it's a forward but don't get mad at it."


I approve of his use of the slash.


The email contained "cute," obviously photoshopped pictures of babies and animals, such as:









This brought to my sister's mind an Onion article. This brought to my mind a fabulous post by one of my favorite bloggers, Harry Hutton:
THAT'S PROGRESS

One of my old students just sent me some funny animal pictures. A single mouse click was all it took and this crap came beaming to me at the speed of light. Ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough, to keep a photo of a laughing dog from my inbox.

One is struck by the gulf between the technology in place to make the message possible, and the value of the message itself. I chose to interpret it as an ironic take on the communications revolution. Look, she is saying, here we are in the new millennium, able to send data across the oceans faster than a speeding whippet, yet we have nothing to say, so we send each other amusing pictures of kittens. Look at the kitten, Harry! It's in someone's pocket! Ha ha!

Or perhaps she felt that I am a simpleton who would welcome such kittens in his inbox, and that when I saw its dear little ears I would be happy. Though, in fact, I was unamused by the kitten.



[Note, Stearns, there is no moral to this post.]

Monday, March 3, 2008

Orthodontia

I have gone to the orthodontist every month for the past seven years. It's always the same—I sign in, brush my teeth, and read magazines. When I was lucky enough to get the seat by the boxes that held each patient's retainers and molds, with each person's name labeled on the front, I scanned each box, seeing how many friend's names I could find while I waited for the doctor.

Yesterday, I went to the orthodontist for the last time ever. I signed my name on the paper, brushed my teeth and waited. They called my name and instructed me to sit in the last chair. I stopped looking at the boxes after a while because I could not find any familiar names. After the doctor told me that I was a great patient, I shook his hand and walked through the winding hallway. As my mom left, she couldn't help but wave goodbye to the receptionists, who she knows by name.

My friend recently got her braces off. She counted down the days until their removal. She had another friend do her hair and make-up and take before and after glamour shots. She posted those pictures on facebook. (A comment on one of her pictures: you're teeth look spectacular! wow. hotness level just went up a wholeee bunch, and i don't even know how that's possible for you!)

I think finishing orthodontics is a rite of passage in my friend group. The reason she posted those pictures is because she is supposed to be "grown up" now and the reason I have trouble leaving the orthodontist is because I'm still attached to my childhood.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

When I Grow Up

I think I would like to be a professor married to a politician with 9 kids, reluctantly Catholic. This was what I wanted in college (sans the Catholic part). Okay, I actually don't want this anymore.

Alternate future: married to a professor.

Alternate future: married to a very famous poet/essayist (he must be born famous, because I don't have a lot of hope that anyone who is actually good will ever become famous).

Alternate future: roaming contemplative nun with no boss and no habit (I don't think that they let nuns do this, but I would wear a mantilla).

Alternate future: me, a professor in Williamsport; husband, a professor in the area. My mom: my nanny.

Alternate future: me, famous poet and world traveler, on occasion.

Saturday, March 1, 2008

We Can Always Wish

I would like a green dress for a May wedding.







I'm crazy about the last one. Preferably, I would like a green dress for cheap and without shopping. The best option that I can think of is for Stearns to make it for me or give me an old one of hers, but as we are fighting (?) at the moment, I'm not certain that that is really a viable option.

I would also like a purple coat.



This was much more satisfying than my shopping excursion today in which I discovered that there are no purple coats to be found. Moreover, I was deeply dissatisfied with the green dresses I found. Another option is for Myrrh to be on the lookout (hint, hint).