"You was a pretty thing." --with a mixture of awe and delight, my grandfather to my grandmother, on the occasion of looking through some old, old pictures that I'd dug out of the attic in order to steal.

(Ilana, don't tell the mother!)

A New Semester of TAing and Poems

O Captain! My Captain!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

I selected this poem to go with Aristotle's Politics to pick up on the theme of the relationship of the good ruler to the good laws. The kids brought up the different positions on slavery that Aristotle and Lincoln had, as well as considering Lincoln as Aristotle's virtuous man (I think that the Straussians had already thought of this...). They also pointed us to Aristotle's metaphor of a ship in the Politics, in which the preservation of the ship is the goal. Additionally, the children considered the relationship of the state to the household and the relationship of political rule to mastery (this question is raised in the poem when Whitman switches from "captain" to "father").

Send More Letters!

This is extraordinarily stressful to me.

I LOVE BLOGS!

Academics

Emily: "Would you be my chair? (I don't know how you ask that.)"

Professor Berry: "It's a marriage, you know--it's a serious thing. (You get down on one knee; I want a ring.)

"I would be honored."

Evidently that is how you ask someone to be your chair.

Also today:

Emily: "Do you have a chance to meet with me tomorrow?"

Professor Tocqueville: "Do you have my cell phone number? Could you send me a text message? I know that sounds odd after everything I've said about facebook."

Richmond From the Highway

The Richmond train station is beautiful, perhaps especially at night. It is the thing that I like best on 95 South from DC (except, really, this odd pole with Marlboro written on it--it is basically a giant monument that is reminiscent of a carton of cigarettes. Incidentally, although I've only very infrequently smoked in a car, I decided to use my last match on the way home. I was smoking when I reached that very strange Marlboro tower. Car smoking involves winding the windows down, which is invigorating in January. In addition, I was listening to a wonderful song that I don't know the name of, but the refrain is, "You're pretty good looking, for a girl." I turned it way up and set it on repeat for like an hour. It turns out that that song is a lot of fun to sing to.).

My First Acknowledgment! (Okay, So It Hasn't Yet Been Published)

"Special mention should be given to Emily Hale of Williamsport, PA who prepared the index for the Journal of ----------, which was of great help in this work of extensive plaugerization. Emily also provided comic material for the author during cocktail parties and hospitality, in addition to keeping him updated on the rumors surrounding his private life then circulating in our nation's capital."

On Spinsterhood

Robinson: okay, back to work

have a good evening ms. hale

Emily: Robinson, you too, and i'll talk to you soon!

(miss, please!)

R: miss? i always think of you as a divorcee

E: haha

me?

mean!

R: the smoking and such

E: !!!

R: you'd make a great spinster

E: !!!!

you are an evil evil evil person!

R: wait, does spinster have a sexual connotation?

E: no

it just means single forever

R: okay

okay, then i redact it

though i do think you could have been a charcter in housekeeping [the novel]

E: i don't know what to say to you

i'm a character, presumably there's something good about that

R: its a compliment

E: oh my

R: (kind of)

E: okay, thank you

(kind of)

R: hahaha

okay, for real, i'm out

On Ritual

I sort of like that they re-did the oath. It was probably something like a conditional baptism--a conditional swearing in, in case the first time didn't take. I like the idea that the ritual itself and the words that are said do some work.

On Bad Poetry

Emily: no! i want to!

Percy: Heh

E: now

P: ok

well

E: is it batman? OHH!!! Percy you just did a Warren!

Ok

well

P: huh?

E: that's what he does

P: you are nuts

heh

that's true

E: !!!

i'm not nuts!

P: what's funny about gchat is

how comments overlap each other like that!

So it's like reading a crazily interlaced conversation

E: oh yeah

P: that someone shook up

E: it is weird

hahaha

you are hilarious

P: I wonder what it does to your mind

E: unless you're a fast typer

in which case you can beat other people

P: the two typers have to be equally matched

E: and all of your comments make sense

P: or have to hold off

E: haha

P: hehe

this is funny

E: it's true

P: it's like a bad poem

Read our conversation and pretend it is a bad poem

Emily Dickinson on Letters

"And what is Ecstasy but Affection and what is Affection but the Germ of a little Note?

A Letter is a joy of Earth--
It is denied the Gods--

Emily,
with Love."

"A Letter always feels to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without the corporeal friend. ... Indebted in our talk to attitude and accent, there seems a spectral power in thought that walks alone--."

While Emily gets the love for the letter right (especially in the first bit), it seems a little dangerous to love the letter over being together with someone in person (which it seems she did in life). This parallels loving earth not as looking forward to heaven, but over heaven itself.

Art and Politics

This piece, commissioned by the Czech government, Graham tells me, is probably meant to see what sort of reaction it elicits. However, given that people always expect me to react, even to teasing (and I seldom fail to do so), I will keep up with my reputation: The sculpture seems to tease stereotypes of nations, purportedly to see if Europe is able to laugh at itself. But this isn't what we're meant to do--we aren't supposed to have a detached sense of irony about our countries (and patriotism is not my most virtuous virtue ever). It seems to me that in this case, irony is used to undercut the differences between nations as something light and funny rather than something real and deep. The piece is titled, "Entropa," which could refer to the future disintegration of national difference. The subtitle is "Stereotypes are barriers to be demolished." This raises the question of whether all barriers ought to be demolished.

Reflections on the Inaugural Address

Beginning his address with "Fellow citizens" was effective: It downplayed his appointment to president and called others to join with him in his work.

Goodness gracious, it seems to me that saying, "Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus, and unbelievers" was an important move: I haven't heard a rejection of religion combined with religion in this way in political rhetoric before. This is significant and problematic. Not that we should force people to believe something, but this doesn't mean that we should praise and esteem and normalize unbelief, either.

I was surprised that he appealed to the Founders. Maybe that is always done, but I think it's good.

The revelation of our common humanity and revelation of a new era of peace stuff was scary. Not that we don't share a common humanity, and not that we aren't more aware of that now than we were at time in our history (not only of the nation, but also of the world), but it isn't like that humanity progressively unfolds. Also, we should wish for and and seek and pray for peace, but I don't think that Obama nor anyone else can guarantee that to us.

Finally, goodness gracious, I don't think that he gets to talk about the slaughter of the innocents.

P.S. I was satisfied with the poem, although I do think that using some sort of verse form makes poetry more accessible to the public (which is, I think, a good thing).

On White Coats

Goodness gracious, I am now even more mad at my mother for discouraging me from getting a white coat and even more mad that I was born practical! White coats are beautiful; there are no too ways about it. And none of these coats even have silver-rimmed buttons like mine would have.

The man who does these New York Times slide shows is adorable! I love how he compares women to a rooster!

Inaugural Poetry.2

I'm not sure that having a poet compose a poem for the inauguration is such a bad idea (I actually think it's sort of a wonderful idea, with the potential to both encourage Americans toward patriotism and reintegrate poetry and the public [although, granted, it is risky and poems composed for particular events are not always good ones]). This Wall Street Journal article gives an interesting (although necessarily short) history of inaugural poets and some insight into Obama's choice, with a caution against narrowness in inaugural poetry (and presumably in this article he is talking about narrowness of race, class, and gender as opposed to national narrowness). But really, the author's discussion of narrowness as something to be avoided raises the question of whether or not patriotic political poetry is even possible in Tocqueville's democratic age of globalization. Poetry composed for a particular national event relies on national differences (rather than, for instance, just talking about our humanity). It seems that national distinctiveness as something worth preserving. Poetry may, in fact, be an important part of praising and preserving particularity over sameness.

On Pate

I hadn't realized about livers or I might not have attempted it. In retrospect, it was a daring plan. Livers are kept in blood! Who knew? This seems distinctively anti-Christian. Alas.

On Business Cards

Every time I have to write my number and email address on a scrap of paper at a party, I am pleased. No, I do not have business cards, because I'm a grad student. And I'm glad to be a grad student. Plus, I am happy not to have business cards. I think I would feel silly if I had business cards. Unless I had a cool old-fashioned business card holder. In which case, I would feel very cool.

Myrrh and My Regime

Regime is not that different from regimen, and, after using the former inadvertently in the place of the latter several times, I've decided to embrace "regime." I mean, they both basically mean the same thing, except that "regime" has more explicitly (delightfully explicitly) political associations. A regimen is evidently a "systematic plan," which makes me love that, too (Oakeshott would hate this about me). So, Myrrh and I have finally undertaken our regime, which has been intended since November. I would say we both feel invigorated. Plus, it gives me more rules to break...

I would say that our regime is a direct democracy--requiring and thriving on participation from all of the members.

Brother O.P.

"I bet this will end up on your blog tomorrow." --Bro. O.P.

Alas, I didn't make it by tomorrow, but I didn't take so long, either.

I hadn't realized that Brother O.P. is such an avid reader of the Three White Leopards (he claims that this is mostly to be sure that I don't steal from any more emails he sends me without him noticing it, but I know better: it's the brilliant wittiness that is Emily Hale [which would clearly be brilliant-er and wittier if he emailed me with greater frequency]).

I'm not going to lie, though: the fact that I've told all of the stories on my blog that I tell in person deflated much of the energy of my in-person stories. Ah well, there are always trade-offs.

My Favorite Thing in New Orleans Was the Beautiful Iron Balconies (Especially When Coupled with Greenery)

Best-Named Book Ever

A book with a name like this could technically go wrong, I guess, but I would have been surprised.

Marilynne Robinson captures not only the home/homeless tension, but also treats well the relationship between men and women (in a way, this book is a culmination of her female-perspective laden Housekeeping and her male-perspective laden Gilead). In Home, the complementarity of the relationship between men and women is present, and not in a romantic relationship, which is usually the case, and not in a friendship, which it is difficult to keep uncomplicated (although possible!), but in a brother/sister relationship (Robinson is clever in choosing this relationship).

Robinson does not shun typical ways of relating: the main character, Glory, serves her brother and father by cooking and hostessing. She also often plays a quiet role in smoothing things over. She has strong maternal impulses. Also, her father names his daughters after abstract qualities of God, but names his sons after friends. Here we gain an important insight into Glory's father and see a dramatic difference from Glory's actually concrete, connected character.

Jack, another main character, is portrayed as deeply flawed and is, still, a deeply sympathetic character. This is one of my favorite character types--the ones who see their own failings so clearly that they barely have hope. It is in this very sincere grief over their own shortcomings that is apparent that there is much hope for them. Jack sees himself as almost tragically flawed; it is clear to the reader, however, that there is much that is redemptive in his honesty and his sincere search for relationship.

And So I Enter the [Scary] World of Digital Photography Or New Orleans Has Cute Older Men

They were cute for, among other reasons, how flattered they were to be photographed, while acting shy. The man on the top (he worked at a very old family-owned jewelry shop) maintained that they should probably move the inauguration to New Orleans, since New Orleans knows how to deal with crowds ("We have Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest"). This is a wonderful idea. I'm all for it.

A Prayer

Let our work always find its origin in you and through you reach completion.

Coolest School Mascot

This beats the [tiny little] bulldog hands down. It is even better than the [two] Baylor bears.



This weekend, I visited Mike VI, the LSU tiger.

Away for the Weekend

I am Not a Blogger

This weekend, I was talking with a new acquaintance. He said, "So I hear you're a blogger." I was stunned and speechless.

The only equivalent I've had of this feeling was the time that I was at a meet and greet in DC and someone asked me where I worked. My mind went blank. I was thinking, "I'm fairly sure I don't work. I'm fairly sure I don't have a job. But I'm fairly sure I'm a well-adjusted adult. How is this possible? I don't live at home..." And it went on. I looked at Myrrh desperately for help. And then I smiled, relieved, and said, "I'm a student."

All that to say, I don't think of myself as a blogger, and I think that we should all come to terms with that.

Girlhood and Books

When I asked my father why I'm not very good at basketball (or really at any of the sports [I participate in every sporting activity slowly and deliberately rather than with any great natural instinct or coordination (you should see me bowl)]), he would always say, "because you spent your childhood indoors, reading a book" (most likely to his chagrin, at least partially).

And I do remember those times. I remember my mother taking a picture of my sister and I stretched out on opposite sides of the same couch, engrossed in books. I asked her why she took a picture of us just then and she said it was since that was all we'd spent our summer doing.

And I remember keeping a novel of some sort or another (mostly of really crappy quality because I just didn't know what was good) on the edge of my desk at school, looking for any opportunity to open it. Or for the bus ride home.

This article on girls reading captures something really wonderful about the way in which I read as a child, something that for me unfortunately, as for the article's author, has changed. I have stacks and stacks of things I haven't gotten to. Plus you just have more remove--you're more tangled up in the rest of life than you are as a child. (Pointed out by Maggie Perry, who has the best sensibilities of any woman I've ever met. Plus, her book recommendations are stellar.)

You Have to Love the Amish

...And you have to hate the modern world and what it is trying to do to the Amish. Just when I come to terms (or at least approximate terms) with the modern world, something like this happens. Who knows? I guess there's a possibility that they would make the transition to the modern world better than everyone else. Heavens knows, they probably will.

The Economist Obituary

I still like The Economist obituaries. I think that I like them best when they are about writers and when they present the writer's life in terms of his writing. And so I recommend to you, dear reader, Harold Pinter's.