I've Been Bitten

Ok, I finally broke down and purchased a copy of Meyer's Twilight.  First, I should say that I read it quickly over one weekend.  This illustrates that it is entertaining enough.  It's a quick read, and although there wasn't all that much suspense, I felt like I wanted to keep reading.  In spite of all that, I have to say that I don't get what all the hype is about.   A couple of my students informed me that it's really "deep" and "profound," unlike much YA fiction that simply deals with high school boy-girl relationships.  But that's just not the case.  I mean, Twilight seemed to me like more of the same--the melodramatic, angst filled, fraught 17-year-old relationship, with a vampire thrown into the mix.  But the vampire angle felt almost arbitrary (should I say "random"?).  But seriously, I found the book troubling in ways that have nothing to do with vampires.  What I think bothered me most is that the book, of course, is set up such that we, the readers, want Bella and Edward to be together.  And you know--this is fine, I guess.  Whatever.  I mean, it's like Harlequin for teens, but fine.  But Edward is so controlling of Bella.  And he really doesn't allow her to assert her opinions.  And when he wants something that she doesn't, he just kinda forces her.  I am NOT referring to sex (although the book was more sexually suggestive than I expected).  It's like Edward wants to go for a walk; Bella says no; he just throws her over his shoulder and carries her off.  And Bella, who is also our narrator, doesn't seem to see that this is a problem.  Nor does our author seem to see it.  And that's kinda what bothers me.  I don't expect Bella to be especially perceptive or mature.  She is, after all, 17.  But the writing seems to lack depth.  Meyer doesn't encourage us to perceive the world with more maturity than Bella does.  And this is troubling, in part, but it mostly marks the work as superficial and not terribly literary.  There's just not a lot of substance there.

I will spare you any sort of rant about the film.  I've not seen it and probably won't.  I have nothing against the film, per se.  I do, however, wonder about the mothers who allow their 10 year olds to mob the poor actor who plays Edward, as they scratch their necks in hopes of drawing blood.  Of course, this is no reflection on the film or the actor, but it's just kinda creepy.

Thankful Thirteen

In light of my recent insomnia / general feeling of malaise / horror over the state of humanity, a Thursday Thirteen seems in order, one that helps put things in perspective, or at least balance out the ickiness.  So, although Thanksgiving is a week away, I'm embarking on a Thankful 13, inspired by this list from my BFF's blog.

1.  The dogs.  Yes, I'm daily, even hourly thankful for Guinnie, Polly, and Fenway and even Gollum who is no longer with us.  I really feel like there's so much we can learn from our pets.  Fenway wakes up each morning, blinks his sleepy eyes at me, then accepts a kiss and expects to have a good day.  Each day, it's like he expects good things to happen in his life.  And he's happy because he has such a happy attitude.

2.  My kitchen.  It's not large, and it's not fancy, but it's mine.  And I love spending time in it.

3.  Family, especially brothers, neices, sister-in-law, and cousins.  Thanksgiving time makes me think of them all.

4.  Crafty projects.  I just had a brilliant refashion idea--watch for more in the coming weeks!

5.  Words, words, words.  Aren't they simply magical?  I am especially thankful for books, of course.  I'm tempted to order the entire Twilight saga, by the way, for holiday reading.  I feel like I can't resist for much longer!

6.  DVDs.  I really love Netflix.  I do!  I'm especially fond of all the TV series that are available, with british stuff being my very fav.

7.  Journals.  I love writing in my journals, and yes, I keep more than one.  I mean, I need several different notebooks for different parts of my life.  This makes sense, right?

8.  My vehicle.  I have a 1998 Ford Explorer.  I plan to drive it until it's a "death trap."  And then I plan to purchase another Explorer.

9.  Pie.  This time of year, my thoughts turn to pie.  *sigh*  I'm craving apple just now.

10.  Taco Bell.  Requires no explanation.

11.  My job.  First, I get to teach super fun stuff.  Second, I have super fab colleagues.

12.  Fabric, textiles, fibers!  What could be finer?

13.  Simply being alive!

Ah, this feels like a truly joyful T13--just what I needed!

I'm not sure how much more I can take.  I've had this serious bout of insomnia the last four or five nights.  Sleep deprivation seriously like demolishes me.  It's like any capacity for enjoyment or even concentration is just gone.  Monday evening, I decided I'd try to get to bed early, and as I was getting ready for bed, I realized that my alarm clock wasn't working properly.  I thought, "No problemo--I'll just use the alarm on my cell."  But I couldn't get that to work either.  I wanted to get up at 5:00 (ish) the next morning and couldn't figure out what to do.  When sleep deprived, I tend to blow things out of proportion.  Oh wait, I do that anyway.  Finally, I reconciled myself to coping with no alarm--this was only after a somewhat frantic phone call to my father.  Rationally, he suggested that I get in the car and go buy a clock.  Of course, I promptly disregarded this perfectly reasonable solution.  My mom talked me into it though.  My trip to Walgreen's ended in tears--the prospect of shopping for an alarm clock was just too overwhelming.  Anyhow, at the time this all seemed of monumental proportions.  This was, at least in part, a result of sleep deprivation; of that I'm certain.

But then, Tuesday morning, on the way to work, I found out that a coworker had been murdered several days before.  Kinda makes alarm-clock-gate seem pretty minor, right?  I mean, I don't know how one is supposed to respond to this kind of thing.  I'm shocked and horrified and saddened and angry and afraid.  And I didn't know her well at all.  But still.  Needless to say, I didn't sleep again last night.  It's all oddly surreal, you know?  FIY:  Her boyfriend has been charged with her murder and is scheduled to be arraigned today. 

All I Want for Christmas Is. . .

Ok, although it's Friday, I'm going to do a better-late-than-never Thursday Thirteen. I mean, I'm only one day late, right? So, yesterday, I was browsing Blu-Ray (spelling?) players online. And it got me thinking about Christmas gifts. If money were no object, what would I buy myself for Christmas? Here's a list of thirteen potential Christmas gifts I'd love to give myself.

1. A tattoo. I'd really like a Celtic trinity knot between my shoulder blades. It might look something like this.  Or maybe like this. 

2.  MAC eyeshadow.  Again, this is representative of my basic vanity, but I adore MAC eyeshadows lately.  However, much less expensive and of similar quality are the eyeshadow palettes from Coastal Scents. 

3.  This Judith Ripka bracelet.

4.  A Kitchen Aid stand mixer, preferably in pink!

5.  A LCD television.

6.  A Nintendo Wii.  Seriously.

7.  And while I'm at it, how about a Nintendo DS.  You know, I think I need to be working on the brain age and Zen "games" that they offer now.

8.  A nose stud.  As many of you know, I've had my nose pierced in the past.  And I really, really loved it.  In fact, I cannot remember why I got rid of it.  And I'm feeling so frumpy looking lately that a new piercing seems in order!

9.  A fresh coat (or two) of paint in my bedroom.  I've been meaning to do this since I moved two and one-half year ago.  Again, I think pink is in order here.

10.  "G" from the Harajuku Lovers line of perfume.  Isn't the packaging too cute?

11.  A serger machine.

12.  A trip to Kripalu for a Yoga retreat.

13.  A big shopping spree at J. Crew.


So OK, I realize that talking about gifts to myself really misses the entire point of Christmas--I get that. Still, it's fun to dream.  And this is like an "in my dreams" kind of wish list; with the possible exceptions of a tatoo, a nose stud, and new paint in the bedroom, I don't anticipate that any of these is likely to happen any time soon.  Still.  A girl can dream, right?

Morning Joe Drops the "F Bomb" on Live TV!

Did anyone else hear this this morning? Joe says the F-word and seems oblivious. When Mika calls him on it, he reverts to the "ambien and vodka" routine.

Ok, I know it's silly, but I really, really love this video

Fenway and the Stairs

Maybe if I can get my act together, technologically speaking, I can post a video.  When Fenway first came to live with me, he was only 8 weeks old and was too little to go up or down stairs.  The design of my house is such that going outside requires using the stairs--a whole flight of them, not just one or two.  Anyway, at first, he was tiny, and I didn't mind carrying him down and back up stairs when we needed to go out.  Mind you, we take several potty breaks a day, so that's several trips down and back up the stairs.  Initially, I was a little worried that baby Fenny might fall down the stairs and would feel anxious if he was too near the staircase.  However, I had little to worry about.  Fenway seems to have a phobia about the stairs.  Very quickly, he did learn to go up the stairs.  When we'd come back in from outside, he'd run right up, even when he was still pretty little.  Now, nearly 9 months and 20 pounds later, Fenway is still unable to go down stairs.  Seriously.  And maybe "unable" is the wrong word.  I mean, if I pick him up and put him down four or five steps from the bottom, he can go the rest of the way down.  But he thinks that he can't.  When it's time to go out, I still have to carry him down the stairs.  (Side note:  when it's time to go out, he thinks it's really fun to play keep away from mom.)  And it's kinda pathetic, really.  I mean, he clearly wants to go down the stairs sometimes but thinks that he can't.  And he'll stand at the top and cry if, say, his ball has rolled down the stairs.  I've tried everything I can think of.  I've even put a snack on each stair thinking that surely he'd be willing to give it a try for a snack!  But he wouldn't.  It's almost like a dog who has been abused and then avoids the object used to beat him; however, I seriously doubt that anyone pushed Fenny down the stairs when he was a baby.  When my parents were both here a month or so ago, all three of us stood on the stairs and the landing and called to Fenway, trying to coax him into at least trying it.  But he wouldn't.  He acted a little upset because he clearly wanted to be with the humans, but the stairs were too big an obstacle.  So he just stands at the top and looks crushed, like he's been abandoned and is just waiting for his Mama to return.  And it's not really that he can't do stairs; he just thinks he can't do stairs.  It was a little funny when he was little, but he's now close to 25 pounds.  And at 5:00am, carrying him down stairs is about the last thing I want to be doing.  On the bright side, it does provide an opportunity for hugs and "snorty kisses."

Joni and Joan

I've been listening to Joni Mitchell all weekend. And rule #1 is that one shouldn't listen to Joni if one is feeling depressed. However, I'm feeling pretty OK, even after Joni, so that's a good sign. But all weekend, I've felt like I should be reading Joan Didion while I listen to Joni. Apparently, my copy of The White Album, which is such a wonderful collection of essays, is in my office at work. This is sorta too bad, because I'm craving Joan. The opening to the first essay in The White Album is, "We tell ourselves stories in order to live." And this quote, this idea is something that I think about frequently. Didion (or can I call her by her first name?) seems to understand that narrative is a way to find meaning in the seeming-meaninglessness of our lives. And this is true on so many levels. I remember my mother saying, more than once, that when something really painful has happened, she maybe doesn't want to have to tell people, but that with each successive telling the telling becomes easier and the trauma, itself, becomes easier to cope with. But Didion also knows that when we create these narratives, we are forced to find patters and to select details and to create order. Narrative requires order, and maybe this is a way to create order in our lives. But even more importantly, it strikes me that salvation is to be found in story. We take comfort from the stories of others. Barack Obama is compelling, at least in part, because his story is interesting; it's a story of what it means to overcome. And even more importantly, the Gospel is story. It's a narrative. And Christ's teachings, say the Sermon on the Mount, is embedded in story. The story, the narrative creates a context for understanding. Some have called this narrative the greatest story ever told. C.S. Lewis speaks often of the strength of "story" as a particular genre. And while Didion may not see power and salvation in the story of the New Testament (or maybe she does), it seems that story, narrative matters. We create stories; we listen to the stories of others; we retell stories we already know. And these stories move us and change us and save us. I think that Joni Mitchell knows this too. And I wonder if Joni and Joan know one another. I'm certain that they know of one another, but that's not the same thing. And I wonder what they would say to one another over a cup of coffee. Joni tells us that "something's lost but something's gained in living every day," and this is both sad and hopeful, I think. And telling stories about the losses and gains gives us a way to understand them and ultimately a way to live.

A Dress to Die For. . .

Ok, this dress is on clearance at J Crew. And even on clearance, I can't afford it. And besides, I've taken the pledge, not to purchase new clothes. But I really, really LOVE this dress. The style is great, and the purple is super fab. So I'm thinking I could probably make something comparable, no?

Thursday Thirteen: Thirteen Movies I've Never Seen But Feel Like I Should

Ok, so on the way to work, I got thinking about all the classic or brilliant or wonderful films I've never seen. I'm embarrassed to admit some of these. But you have it: Movies I think I should know about but have never seen (or have only seen portions of). Let's see if I can make it to thirteen.

1. Thelma and Louise. I've seen parts of this one, notably the end. And I feel like I know why it's supposed to be significant or whatever (and I don't think it's Brad Pitt that makes it important), but I've never seen the whole thing.

2. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Now that I think about it, is Thelma and Louise a sort of reworking of this one? Again, I've seen the end but haven't see the movie in its entirity.

3. The Austin Powers movies. I've never seen any of them (are there three?), and in this case, I think I'm OK with not having seen them.

4. Close Encounters. Yeah, I've just never gotten around to this one.

5. Cool Hand Luke. This is supposed to be really great, right? I've never seen it. I guess I should.

6. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. So the other day, one of my colleagues was saying how he liked this one; I've never seen it that I can recall.

7. Deliverance. I'm actually interested but seem to have never had occasion to watch this one.

8. The Return of Spinal Tap. OK, I've seen This is Spinal Tap, but I've somehow missed The Return of.

9. Children of Men. I'm kinda interested, as it's based on a novel by P.D. James, but then again, it looks depressing. According to my brother, it's "pre post apocalyptic." I'm not sure what that even means.

10. Apocalypto: This is the Mel Gibson one about the fall of the Mayans. It think it sounds interesting, but then I hear that it's super gory, and I don't think I can deal with that.

11. The entire Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween franchise. Does this require comment?

12. Talladega Nights. Will Ferrell just kills me. Seriously. But I've not seen this one.

AND

13. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I really dislike Brad, and I don't like Angelina much better. And knowing that they're making this movie while committing adultery on the side really turns me off.

Fun Blog

One of my favorite blogs is "A Dress A Day." I love the blogger's style, and I often enjoy her writing. Recently I particularly enjoyed her post titled "I See London, I See France." I think it's lots of fun, if any of you are looking for a good, quick read.

Life is Soooooooooooooo Unfair

So, here's how I know life is ridiculously unfair.  I'm watching last night's episode of Dr. 90210, which I'd DVRd.  So there's this really attractive 33 year old woman, and she wants a "Brazilian butt augumentation."  And that's a little unfair, right, when so many of us are wanting to reduce our backsides, she's wanting to go under general anesthesia to get MORE junk in the trunk.  Anyway, the procedure involves sucking fat out of one part of the individual's body and injecting it into her butt.  And that right there seems a little unfair, that she gets to elect to reallocate her fat.  But here's the real kicker:  she goes in for a consultation, and the surgeon tells her she doesn't have enough body fat for him to harvest, so she has to gain at least 10 pounds before the procedure.  So the woman gets to totally eat all kinds of crap in order to gain fat in her abs so that the doctor then has something to work with.  This seems just wrong that she gets the fun of gaining a full 15 pounds just so that she can have the excess fat sucked out and moved to her behind.  Life is so unfair.

My "Refashioned" Lighting Fixture

This is my "new" light fixture.  Actually, it's not new at all, but it's been remade.  The fixture was really, really ugly and cheap looking.  My mother, however, refashioned it to look like this.  At first, I thought I was a bad idea, but when I saw the finished product, I totally loved it.  I mean, it's so "me," right?  with the shades of pink and a little green.  And I love that it's tea cups, because, really, I think I'd decorate my entire home in pink tea-themed stuff if I thought it were appropriate to do so.  But in my casual dining area, I think this works well, even if it is a little silly.  Plus, when I sit down to breakfast, I can just grab a tea cup off the light fixture.  Kidding.

She Wore Lemon

Didn't U2 have a song titled that?  I could be wrong, but I don't think so, as Mr. Monk might say.  So here's an apron that I made sorta recently.  It's reversible; after all, there are (or should be) two sides to every apron.  So I made this completely with fabric, trim, and a pattern I sort of had on hand.  Ok, to be fair, I "borrowed" the fabric from my mother's fabric stash.  I've modified the pattern in a couple of ways, mostly to make it reversible; this makes it more fun and adds a nice weight to the apron.  I think it's super cute!

P.D. James's Shroud for a Nightengale

I just finished this novel.  Wait.  I should back up.  As part of my reprioritizing project, I've decided I am going to try to post more mini-book reviews.  For a while, I was trying to create a post for everything I read; it got to be too much.  But for novels that either I'm teaching or that really speak to me, I find that posting a little something rather helps me to think through the work.  Currently, I'm working on reading through all of James's Dalgliesh novels in order, which has been lots of fun so far.  (Ditto for the Lord Peter novels from Sayers and the Morse novels from Dexter.  Morse has a special place in my heart, as some of you know!)  So one thing that I appreciate about Dalgliesh is that he's this complex, and therefore believable and sympathetic, character.  And he has all these seeming-contradictions about him.  He's this kick-ass, by the book police detective, but he also publishes poetry, critically acclaimed poetry.  Also, he seems to have this highly developed religious, moral, and ethical sense, but he finds, sometimes, that competing ethical claims somehow conflict.  This, again, strikes me as particularly true to life.  Dalgliesh, like so many of his detective brothers, seems to be unable to form meaningful, long-term attachments with the opposite sex.  I think that this relative lack of a personal life is probably, at least in part, what makes him a good detective.  And arguably, his committment to his job is a factor in his apparent inability to sustain relationships.  But I think that for Dalgliesh (and Morse) it's much deeper than just that their jobs get in the way of their relationships.  I mean, if it were that simple, they could remedy the situation if they wanted to.  Rather, it seems that loss and pain in their respective pasts keep these characters from forming loving, intimate attachments.  And there's something near universal about this; it's certainly something that I can relate to on some level.  Rejection and loss certainly lead at least some of us to be wary of personal attachments, right?  And I suppose, one way to do that is to be married to our jobs; it's certainly easy to justify being lonely when we say that our jobs just don't allow us the time or energy to pursue relationships.  So I realize this hasn't at all been a review of Shroud for a Nightengale, but it seems like something worth saying.  I mean, I keep asking myself why I'm finding these novels so compelling.  And for me, at least part of the attraction has to do with the central detective figures.  Maybe I need to reinstate my Sunday evening "dates" with Morse.  *sigh*

Refashionista Pledge

Hello guys and gals.  I've decided that I'm joining Wardrobe Refashion,  a blog / group specifically devoted to wardrobe refashioning.  For those of you who are not familiar with the term "refashioning" refers to cutting up, embellishing, altering, and otherwise revamping used clothing items, either second-hand items of items that one already possesses.  My idea, however, as much as anything is to try to use up some of the fabric I've accumulated (and really who among us hasn't?) in a fun, funky, functional way.  So part of this particular blog is that you take a pledge for either 2, 4, or 6 months, a pledge not to purchase any new clothing.  This, I suspect, may be the really tough part for me.  I do, however, reserve the right to purchase "unmentionables" if I need them.  (Ok, side note:  I really, really like all these euphemisms for underwear.  My favorites are "unmentionables," "foundational garments," and "drawers.")  So here's the pledge cut and pasted from the Wardrobe Refashion web site.

I ____Dr. Drennan (ha, ha!)______________ pledge that I shall abstain from the purchase of "new" manufactured items of clothing, for the period of 2 / 4 / 6 months. I pledge that i shall refashion, renovate, recycle preloved items for myself with my own hands in fabric, yarn or other medium for the term of my contract. I pledge that I will share the love and post a photo of my refashioned, renovoted, recycled, crafted or created item of clothing on the Wardrobe Refashion blog, so that others may share the joy that thy thriftiness brings! Signed__DCS________________.

Ok, so far so good.  I need to go over there and introduce myself.  Guess I should do that now.  Oh, but first, here are the "rules" of the game:

The Rules

• 1.
  No buying new! (handmade is excepted; So this allows for Etsy purchases etc!!) All clothing must be Recycled, Renovated, Preloved or Thrifted, or Handmade only for the term. Employment related and special needs clothing (ie sports, school), shoes and undies are excepted from the rules, although you are encouraged to have a go at making these.
• 2.
  In extreme circumstances, maybe a special event, or the worlds greatest and most amazing never to be repeated sale that you simply can not pass up, you may use the Get out of Refashionista Jail Free card. You are able to use this card once during the 2 month part of your contract; ie 1 for 2 months, 2 for 4 months etc. Of course you need to fess up on the blog and display the button!
• 3.
  You must post on the blog at least once a week to let the community know what you've been up to. This will not only give you brag points, but inspire and encorouge others! Of course you need to display the button on your blog and have copied the pledge in at least one post, and provide a link to your pledge under the button.
• 4.
  You need to be honest and admit when you've fallen off the Refashionista Wagon! Go directly to Refashionista Jail, do not pass GO and do not collect $200! Apply for parole once there.

Thoughts About "Stuff"

So it's Saturday morning, which is maybe my favorite part of the week.  It feels so indulgent to be able to sit around in my jammies, sipping tea, reading, writing in my journal.  And one of my goals for this weekend is to sit down and think about reprioritizing some things in my life.  This is something I try to do ever two or three months.  I like to look over my journal(s) and my lists of goals and simply think about what's working in my life and what isn't.  That seems healthy, right?  Well, healthy as long as I don't obsess about it, something I have a tendency to do.  And I guess that I'm posting this commitment to reprioritizing here, publically because I know that if I say it to others, I'm more likely to follow through.  Also, I'm feeling kinda anxious at the moment, and it seems that blogging, journaling, all that tends to help me settle down a bit and refocus. 

On a happy, happy note, I'm scheduled to teach an entire course devoted to Dante next semester!  And I'm so very excited.  I've been looking at different translations and reading reviews and analyses.  And all this reminds me exactly what I love about my job.  And when I say that, I don't just mean that I love that I am an English literature.  I mean, more specifically, I feel so grateful to have the particular position that I have at the specific liberal arts college at which I work.  There are so many, many wonderful things about my position and my department.  Not the least of these is that my colleagues are wonderful, and some of them have become close friends whom I really, really trust.  When I'm frustrated or discouraged about work, I know that I can walk down the hall to T.'s office, and he'll graciously listen and give me really helpful advice.  I so value having these kinds of relationships.  But the other wonderful thing about my job that I honestly wouldn't have at most other institutions is that I get to teach this interesting variety of time periods and genres and pieces of literature, and I get the opportunity to teach special topics kinds of courses in things that I simply just have an interest in.  And I've learned since coming here that the opportunity to just sort of teach what I want to teach is invaluable.  Sometimes I consider looking for ladder positions elsewhere, and I never do because, although VT is difficult, the actual job is this tremendous blessing.  I cannot imagine being happier in some other department. 

One final note:  I've been reading a collection of short stories by Ruth Rendell.  They are super.  And how have I missed Rendell all this time?

In Observance of Halloween. . .

Here's a pic from the Tim Burton film _Frankenweenie_.  I just love this pic.

It's a Big, Wide "Alt." World

So I've been thinking a lot lately about the terms "alternative" and "alt" and even about what "alt" could mean as a lifestyle choice.  And here's my big idea:  I want to start an online "alt" lifestyle 'zine.  I know, I know I have all these big ideas that I don't follow through with, and this is probably just one of those.  But here's where part of this comes from:  I have a student who is working towards his history senior thesis project.  One of the topics he's interested in is the way the word "alternative" changed in the 1980s and 90s and what sort of cultural effect this has had.  And I have this ongoing interest in "alt" crafting and in what "alt" might mean for the Christian, if we assume that the mainstream is secular.  And OK, I admit that I'm an avid reader of Lucky (the magazine devoted to shopping) and of Allure (a magazine that really deals with cosmetics as a part of fashion), and I'm interested in these things.  But I hope that my sense of style is informed by the mainstream but is "alt" in that it's my own take on current trends.  And maybe now's the place to come out and admit that I really, really love funky, colorful eye shadow.  I'm so not about the natural look.  And I've made my peace with all of this.  And there are so many so-called lifestyle publications out there--Martha Stewart immediately comes to mind.  And while I don't subscribe to Martha, I reall appreciate much of this kind of thing.  But what would an "alt" lifestyle look like?  I mean, I don't think it would look like one monolithic thing.  But why isn't there a space for more of us to say, "Look, here's my take on the mainstream.  And here's what I'm borrowing from pop culture.  And here's how I'm making it my own."  And can't the term "alt" mean a wide variety of things?  For whatever reason, I tend to associate the term with "alt porn."  And I'm so not wanting to support porn, but there's something important about the assertion that attractive does not have to mean that one looks like a Barbie doll.  Brunette can be attractive.  So can big hips and a small bust.  And maybe most importantly, being yourself and being at peace with yourself is maybe the most attractive thing of all.  This is empowering, right?  And isn't there a way to carry that sense over into other parts of our lives?  Isn't there a way to say, "Hey, I'm doing what I need to do.  And I'm using these facets of the power structure and of mainstream culture in ways that work for me.  But I'm also deviating when I need to, so that I'm dressing and decorating and reading and thinking and living in a way that's faithful to my values, values that don't always fit with mainstream cutlure and that sometimes question the status quo."  I feel like I grew up in a church and in other communitites in which the refusal to conform, often to superficial expectations, was seen as rebellion.  And so if you get a tattoo or dye your hair an unconventional color (and yes, I've done both), it was assumed that you were doing something wrong.  (side note:  I'm not meaning to say that my parents said this to me; it was larger and more nebulous forces that made me feel these pressures.)  But really, shouldn't Christians be living outside the mainstream?  I think that the New Testament suggests that if Christians are accepted by the world / mainstream culture maybe it means that they, the Christians, are sorta sell-outs.  I had a professor in college who said that John the Baptist was sort of the original radical; Willie Nelson sings a song about the "Troublemaker" who is criticized for his long hair and his unconventional lifestyle.  This, of course, turns out to be Jesus.  I don't know where I'm going with all of this other than to say this:  thinking about the terms "alternative" and especially "alt" has become a way for me to think about how I might integrate these parts of myself that too often feel desperate.  Is this what Forester means by "Only Connect?"  And in a more general sense, don't we need more "alt" lifestyle publications simply as a forum to think through these things?

The First Snowfall of the Season. . . .

It sounds much more cozy / romantic / wonderful / dreamy than it actually is.  This morning, I woke up and took the dogs out to a gentle snowfall. If I were still living in CA, I would think, "Wow!  the first snowfall sounds so lovely. . ."  Really, it was just kinda discouraging.  I mean, it was cold, and the dogs were wanting to just rush back inside rather than do their "business" in the yard.  And I just kept thinking that I had six months of this kind of weather to look forward to.  I'm trying to make the most of the change in the weather--I've been wearing boots and scarves this week.  Winter does afford fun, creative fashion possibilities.  But really, the cold is just a big inconvenience.  And knowing that it will drag on and on is really what brings me down.  The days are getting shorter--I've been leaving for work while it's still dark out.  And I've been having some conflict at work.  And for the last 10 days or so, I've just had a lot of work to do every day.   It's so hard not to get discouraged and overwhelmed.  This post is not turning out as I'd planned--I guess that's OK.  But I hadn't posted in ages, and it seems like I should say something profound or interesting about books or something.  But I'm just cold and tired and craving MAC eyeshadow, which I'm somehow rediscovering lately.  Maybe MAC eyeshadow deserves its own post.

Nixon, Toothpaste, and Sodomy

Many years ago (well, a couple years ago anyhow), I was with A. looking at a program for an academic conference.  And there was this panel with three papers that had no discernable connection.  So A. says, "It's like having a panel titled, I don't know, 'Nixon, Toothpaste, and Sodomy."  The point being, of course, that these three things just don't fit.  And so, in my mind, a miscellaneous, seemingly-random collection of thoughts has, ever since, been "Nixon, toothpaste, and sodomy."  And really, as a deconstructionist, A. should appreciate the suggestion that by placing these three together, maybe he's suggesting that they do somehow fit together.  And as a Freudian, A. might be able to give us insight into the possible, non-conscious connection between three seemingly- random nouns.  And now that I write this, I'm missing A. and realize that I should e-mail him.  I'll leave it to the rest of you, or at least to Cara, to deduce who A. is based on these clues.

And "clues" is my transition to the next thought in this series.  I may have posted about this before--I don't know.  I have decided that my all-time favorite etymology is that of the word "clue."  And as I've been reading and teaching all these great, quaint, classic, cozy murder mysteries, it's been particularly on my mind.  "Clue," originally spelled "clew" is the word for a ball of yarn:  think old ladies knitting while kittens bat around the yarn.  And when Theseus entered the labyrinth to battle the Minotaur, Ariadne gave him a clew of yarn to find his way back out.  You know, it's almost like Hansel and Gretel leaving crumbs in the wood.  Theseus is to leave the yarn at the beginning of the labyrinth and to thread it out as he moves along, so that once the minotaur is faced, he can follow the thread back to the beginning.  And, according to the OED, the universal source of all linguistic knowledge, this is the sense from which our use of "clue" develops.  The notion is that the detective, or anyone really, can pick up a single thread of a narrative and follow that thread through to the logical conclusion.  And as I read, I keep picturing the characters (this is especially appropriate for Miss Marple) following threads of conversations and incidents back to the murderer.  In The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, the narrator describes an encounter with Poirot: "He and I lunched together at an hotel.  I know now that the whole thing lay clearly unravelled before him.  He had got the last thread he needed to lead him to the truth."  And again, it's the image of unrolling that ball of yarn and following the thread out of the puzzle.  This image absolutely fascinates me.

And finally, third in my series of three seemingly-random things:  I have announcement to make.  In the near future, if all goes according to plan you will be able to find me here on the net.  More to come!

Just Found This on the Net!

Thursday Thirteen: Songs About Cities

Today's not Thrusday, and I haven't even done the TT in a while.  However, on the way to work this morning, I was listening to Creedence, and they have that great song "Lodi."  So I'm driving along, singing along, and I get to thinking:  Hey, there are lots of songs about particular cities.  And so here I offer, in no particular order, a list of thirteen songs about cities, some with commentary.

1.  CCR's "Lodi."  We'll start with this one, as it's the motivation for the list.  When I think Lodi, I think German sausage, which is maybe a little odd because I don't even remember the last time I ate German sausage, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't actually from Lodi.  But when I was a child, we'd sometimes have German sausage from Lodi at church functions.  Apparently, there's a butcher there who sells the "best" German sausage.  I think that my cousins J. and M. have a bakery or something they like in Lodi too.

2.  Glen Campbell's "Galveston."  I don't have too much to say about this one, other than this:  my father is, apparently, distantly related to Campbell.  I guess that means I'm related too.  As far as I'm concerned the most interesting thing about Glen Campbell is that he was once one of the Beach Boys.

3.  Otis Redding's "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay."  Although the city's name isn't the title here, this is still a song about a city, right?  And it's a good one.  And in my mind, it's somehow connected to "Midnight Train to Georgia," which is also pretty good and about a particular locale.

4.  Marty Robbins's "El Paso."  Ok, this may be the all time best song about a city.  I love this one.  For one, the lyrics are fun.  Interestingly, he also recorded "Feelena" and "El Paso City," which taken with "El Paso" make up a song cycle, to my way of thinking.

5.  Garth Brooks's "Callin' Baton Rouge."  I don't have much commentary for this one; it's just fun.

6.  "New York, New York," especially when sung by Frank Sinatra.  Although it makes no sense to do so, I like to sing this one to and about my dogs, especially Guinn, substituting the line "these vagabond paws."

7.  Marc Cohn's "Walkin' in Memphis."  I have always thought Memphis would be a fun place to live; I could totally get on board with the whole rockabilly thing, and I don't just mean the music, I also mean "rockabilly kulture."

8.  "Meet Me In St. Louis," especially when sung by Judy Garland.

9.  Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville."  Wait, does Margaritaville count as a city?  I love the line about "Blew out a flip-flop / Stepped on a pop top."  That's genius.

10.Elvis's "Viva, Las Vegas."  OK, first I love the movie with Elvis and Ann Margaret.  But I am positively horrified by the Viagra commercials on TV in which they sing "Viva, Viagra."  It just makes me uncomfortable, like watching a Will Farrell skit on Saturday Night Live, only it's funny when it's Will Farrell.  Plus the TV commercials for Viagra just seem kinda low class.

11.  What about the Arlo Gutherie song about "The City of New Orleans."  OK, so the song's about the train named after the city--I get that.  And as such, I guess it's not really a song about a city, but still, it's a goodie.

12.  "City of Angels," by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

13.  And last but certainly not least we have Dwight and Buck's "Streets of Bakersfield."

Honorary Mention, because they are not specifically about a single city:  Johnny Cash singing "I've Been Everywhere" and George Straight singing "All My Exes Live in Texas." 

Intertextual TV: Lost

So this weekend, I started watching the TV series Lost.  And although I've only seen the pilot and maybe the next three or four epoisodes, I LOVE it!  It seems interesting and smart, which in terms of TV viewing is rather a departure for me--I normally like mindless TV.  But I keep thinking about it in terms of all kinds of other texts.  And it seems that it's intended that way.  I mean, how can we not think about it in connection to Lord of the Flies?  But that's the obvious comparison, right?  So far, the series clearly references Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.  But I also noticed one of the characters reading Watership Down.  And so I'm thinking, "Oooo!  It's an epic about building a new society."  And that's pretty obvious, right?  So, we've got Lord of the Flies, Alice, and Watership Down.  Charlie's tattoo says "Living is Easy with Eyes Closed," which of course is from "Strawberry Fields," and we have a character named John Locke.  And yeah, this is all kinda obvious.  But mixed with the fantasy elements (dare I say "magical realism"), all I can think is Umberto Eco.  If Eco were to create a TV series, would it be like this?  I mean, really, I bet that Eco watches Lost, because it all feels like Eco's novels to me.  This is so like The Island of the Day Before or Baudolino.  In those novels we see characters who somehow end up in fantasy worlds that play with what they know about science and myth.  And so my thought process is something like this:  Lost, intertextuality, magical realism / fantasy, Umberto Eco.  So what do I make of it all?  Right now I don't know, other than I'm excited to see how the series progresses.  And I'm interested to see what other texts come up--I'm betting Dante is related to all of this somehow.  I'm really hoping that Eco publishes an essay on Lost, because that would be kick-ass.  I guess this is how English teachers watch TV.

Follow Up to Last Week's Post on Palin

Last week, although it somehow feels like it was an age ago, I know I posted a longish "thingy" about Palin.  And I continued to think about the topic and how I was feeling about it, and some of you had interesting things to say in response.  And so, it seems that a further exploration of the general topic seems to be in order.

So C. pointed out, and I think that she's right, that there's this weird, uncomfortable, and ultimately mislead double standard.  It's like some people think Hilary C. is not to be admired because she's been ambitious and has been open about it.  In contrast, Palin is presented as this "Hockey Mom" who has really been a stay-at-home mother at heart but has somehow fallen into this whole vice presidency thing (I almost said "farce"), and that we're supposed to find Palin inspiring and acceptable because she's been committed to her family before her career, because she hasn't shown the ambition that Hilary has.  And, really why is it acceptable, at least according to some segments in society, for the Hockey Mom to run for office and somehow offensive when the ambitious mom does?  Don't get me wrong--I don't see it this way.  And I don't want to suggest that I think Hilary has been anything other than a good mother--I certainly don't know anything about her as a mother other than to say that Chelsea seems to have turned out well.  But what really gets to me is this:  Palin must have been and must be ambitious and hard working.  OK, so I don't think she's particularly qualified for second in command, but she has been a mayor and even a governor, albeit for a short amount of time.  But one doesn't get to be a governor, even of Alaska, without hard work and ambition.  She's been personally ambitious; she's worked to advance her career.  I think this is fine.  But it bothers me when some want to act like she's admirable because she's been somehow non-ambitious, somehow antithetical to Hilary in this regard.

Secondly, as I am prone to do, I turned my analysis of Palin really into an analysis of women's position in society and an analysis of myself and my own position in a variety of social structures.  Hey, we all know the personal IS the political, right?  Or is it the political that's personal?  I forget which it is.  But I went on and on about not having children, not having a "partner."  And I do love that we can use the term "partner."  Anyhow, when I said that I feel somehow "broken" because I don't have a partner, I really meant that I feel like there must be something wrong with me or I wouldn't be alone.  I mean, I know this is not rational, but too often it simply feels like no one wants me.  And the reasoning goes like this:  "No one wants me.  This must mean that I am undesirable.  There must be something wrong with me, or someone would want me.  I must be broken beyond repair."  Again, I am saying clearly, this sort of thinking is not realistic or reasonable.  But still, it feels like no one wants me, therefore I must be un-want-able.  And to be fair, I think I've had more than my fair share of dramatic (shall we say melodramatic?), extreme, heart-breaking rejections from men I've really, truly loved.  I seriously think I may have PTSD from the whole Stamp thing.  But it always feels like if I'd been somehow better, maybe he would have wanted me, maybe he'd want me now.  I think that most people would have some insecurities in the wake of some of this, right?  (So I'm sparing you all a long, melodramatic narrative of how it went down with Stamp; I'm assuming that if you know me well at all, you know the situation.  And the truth is (I hate admiting this) that all this time later, I sill miss him and think about him and wish that things could have somehow been different.  Please don't e-mail me to say that's silly.  I know it's silly, but it's just part of it.)  Anyhow, that's really only tangentially (or maybe not at all) related to the Palin question.  But the topic is, clearly, bringing up all kinds of difficult "stuff" for me.

P.S.  In future posts, I'll try to cut down on the parentheticals.  Bad writing style!

Ursula Le Guin: Gifts

I just finished the YA novel, Gifts, by Ursula Le Guin, and it was one of the most lovely novels I've read in quite some time.  I haven't read tons of Le Guin, but there's something beautiful and fitting and perfect about her clear, succint, almost sparse style.  And Le Guin is particularly insightful and sensitive in the way that she deals with the whole coming-of-age motif.  This particular novel would, I suppose, be classified as fantasy.  It's the story of an adolescent boy living in some sort of alternate universe in which individuals have "gifts," or what we might call supernatural powers.  These gifts are hereditary, and the main character, Orrec, has the gift of "undoing" or destruction.  As he matures, Orrec must learn to use this gift, lest it control him.  But, of course, his coming to terms with his gift is his coming-of-age, his growing into an adult, and this growing is painful and frustrating and fill of loss, but how could it be anything else?  As I sit here typing, it occurs to me that the genre of fantasy seems to be especially suited to the coming-of-age story.  And maybe that's simply because fantasy is almost always about the main character's quest, and the quest is, I suppose, really just a metaphor for growing up and finding our place in this world.  I am, I have to admit, particularly fond of the YA novel, and this is one of the very best I've read in quite some time.

Nifty Netflix Feature

I think that Netflix is just about the greatest thing since ever!  And if you click here, you can become my Netflix friend (or fiend!).  See what I've been watching, make recommendations.  The fun never ends!

Edited (and Less Crazy) Pic of My Fenny-Love

K. was kind enough to edit the pic of Fenway that I posted yesterday.  Here's Fenway looking much more dignified.  Some might say that I'm biased, but I really do think he's just the handsome-est little thing in the world.  Here's a "joke" that A. made up:  What's the difference between Fenway and Sarah Palin?  The lipstick! 

Stop the Insanity! Or What I Really Think About Sarah Palin, Or Why I'm Not a Very Good Feminist

I don't know where to start.  Like many of us, I have had Sarah Palin on the brain for the last ten days ago.  And I've officially decided, much to the consternation of some, I know, that I'm not going to vote in Novemeber.  I've also officially decided to not engage in conversations and certainly not snide comments about the candidates, the parties, or the process.   One reason I've decided not to vote is that, really, with the electoral college working as it does, I sorta feel like my vote doesn't count.  I mean, Vermont is certainly going to the Democrats, regardless of how I do or don't vote.  I don't think that's cynical of me; I think it's realistic.

But here's what I really think about Sarah Palin.  (Ok, I know that I just decided not to engage in conversations about the candidates, but I consider my personal rant far from a conversation).  Regardless of ideology and politics and all that stuff, which I do consider to be really important, I don't think that Palin is qualified.  I don't think that she has the requisite experience that I'd like to see in someone who could potentially be the leader of the free world.  Just for the record, I think the same about Obama.  I do realize that for both of them, part of the attraction is the perception that they are not entrenched in the establishment.  I guess that I understand that as a kind of selling point, but in Palin's case, I'm not buying.

I do feel that, at least for me, one positive that's come about as a direct resuly of Palin's being chosen as McCain's running mate is that many of us are revisiting some pretty big questions about women with careers and especially working mothers.  This topic is one that I find myself coming back to over and over.  I know that I've said before that I always feel like I've somehow been betrayed by feminism, as a movement (yes, I know that I'm talking about white, privileged feminism here).  I feel like feminism (or maybe 2nd wave feminism) has told us that in order to be happy and successful we need to have rewarding careers and fabulous marriages while we are super moms too.  I, for one, don't think that I have it in me to do all three of these at once.  In fact, at 33, I have accepted that I'll probably never have a child.  And I'm totally OK with not having children.  In fact, I don't see how I could work the way that I want to and still have it in me to be a good mother.  I know that many women do it and that many of them do it gracefully.  I am not one of those women, and I'm sure it has more to do with my own emotional weaknesses than anything else.  For a long while, I felt like I was supposed to at least want children, like there was something defective about me if I didn't.  Now I realize that, at least for me, it's a choice:  career OR children.  Or maybe I could, in theory, have both, but I can't imagine doing a very good job of either.  And over the last week, Mika Brzezinski, who I really like as far as newsy personalities go, has been talking about this topic in her own way.  And I appreciate what she has to say about Palin and being a working mother.  And Mika (don't you love how suddenly I'm all palsy with her?) says that for herself working the way she does is a choice and that it does take time and energy away from her children.  I know she doesn't buy into Palin's politics, but Brzezinski says she can identify with the sacrifices that working mothers make.  But the thing is that Brzezinski and Palin and even I have a choice.  Many women, especially single mothers, don't have a choice.  And really, aren't the mothers working 50 and 60 hours a week at blue collar jobs to house and feed their children, aren't they the real heroes?  And aren't they the ones we should be concerned about?  I mean, all these pundits going on and on about Palin and if she gets the big job, who will take care of her children.  Palin has a choice to make--talk about ProChoice--too many mothers, especially single mothers, don't have the luxury of choice.  And we don't talk about this often enough, it seems to me.  (Ok, here's where I get all "meta:"  I realize this paragraph lacks a single focus.  And I'm OK with that--I'm just sorto of thinking out loud on paper, or on screen.  Well, you know what I mean.)

And I haven't even begun to address how marriage and relationships might fit into the mix.  I believe that, in general, being a single parent is much more demanding and much more difficult than having a partner with whom to raise children.  At 33, I have begun to accept that I may never, never get married and have that kind of partnership in my life.  This, for me, is much more difficult to accept than the prospect of not having children.  But it's a possibility (a probability????) that I think I need to face.  And I have to say that not being married, or more specifically feeling like I have more than my share of spectacularly failed relationships in my past makes me feel like a failure.  I can be OK with never being a mother, but the idea of never having a fulfilling, intimate relationship makes me feel so broken somehow.  And I do feel a lot of societal pressure--it's like there must be something wrong with me if I can't do something so normal as sustain a relationship.  I know that my perceptions and reality aren't the same thing here; this is just how I feel much of the time.

I guess that what I'm trying to say is this:  thinking about Palin has, for me, brought up questions about how I, as a woman and as a feminist and as a product of a particular historical and cultural moment and as a product of a particular set of religious beliefs, define success.  Too often, I find that the definitions of a successful woman offered by the various societal groups with which I identify are definitions of success that just don't work for me.  And I'm not sure where that leaves me.  Right now, it leaves me with a job that I enjoy and that I really believe in.  But sometimes, I feel like that's about all I'm left with, and I don't know what to think or feel about that.

Oh, and one more thing:  I cannot make myself believe that reproductive rights are the central issue for women in the way that some others seem to think they are.  Maybe I'll post more on this later, or maybe I'll continue to avoid the issue.

Pics of my yard

These pics are the flower beds in my front yard, as seen from my window.  I'm not sure that they really at all show what things are looking like, as we near the end of what's been a very wet summer.  But my yard is truly a source of joy.

Here's a new pic of Fenny.  I like this one because it looks like he's smiling.  Also, he looks kinda maniacial, which he kinda is.  If I were better with Photoshop, I could make his eyes look normal, black, not all reflect-y.  But maybe the glowing eyes add to the maniacial feel of the pic.  Doesn't he look like he wants to say something?  I think he wants to say, "I love my mama more than anyone!"

A Reading Update

As you can tell, I'm sure, from recent posts, I've been reading tons and tons o' murder mysteries lately. And something about it is very satisfying. I like feeling like I'm reading with a purpose, and I like feeling like my reading is centered on something--some theme, some goal. Over the last week, I've finished the first Sherlock Holmes novella A Study in Scarlet and P.D. James's A Mind for Murder. Oh, I've also read Edgar Allen Poe's three tales of "ratiocination:" "Murders in the Rue Morgue," "The Mystery of Marie Roget," and "The Purloined Letter." And I'm feeling in this state of synthesis where I'm living and breathing and thinking mystery, you know? When I get really into a writer or a genre or a class or whatever, I find myself going about my life, almost constantly mulling it all over in my mind. And I rather like that feeling--it seems to give me a sense of purpose. So two of the Poe stories I could do without, but "The Purloined Letter" is pretty smart. And in A Study in Scarlet, Watson and Holmes refer to Poe's Dupin. And, I don't know, it feels cool and smart and interesting to be tracing the development of something. And intertextual references always excite me anyway. So all this to say, I guess, that I'm just having a lot of fun with work, and that really seems like how it should be.

"We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live"

In "The White Album," Joan Didion opens by exploring why it is that we write.  And as I'm preparing for tomorrow's Freshman Comp class, I'm reminded of what Didion has to say:

We tell ourselves stories in order to live.  The princess is caged in the consulate.  The man with the candy will lead the children into the sea.  The naked woman on the ledge outside the window on the sixteenth floor is a victim of accidie, or the naked woman is an exhibitionist, and it would be “interesting” to know which.  We tell ourselves that it makes some difference whether the naked woman is about to commit a mortal sin or is about to register a political protest or is about to be, the Artistophanic view, snatched back to the human condition by the fireman in priest’s clothing just visible in the window behind her, the one smiling at the telephoto lens.  We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five.  We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices.  We live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.

Didion's is one of my favourite passages about writing, about why we write.  Maybe we don't write to live in a literal sense, and yet we write in the attempt to find meaning in a world that is meaningless.  Last night, I was watching Slings and Arrows a "dramedy" about a troup of Shakespearing actors who, in season 2, present MacBeth.  Some of them see a production of MacBeth at a local elementary school.  And as his wife goes mad, MacBeth thinks something like "I don't understand life.  It just goes on and on."  And as Didion points out, the attempt to find a narrative thread in our existence is the attempt to follow the thread or clue that could lead to some sort of meaning, we are searching for what MacBeth feels he's missing.  And "story" is a way to do so.  I always think this is so powerful and says so much not just about why we write but why we read and why the study of literature is important.  This seemed to be worth sharing.

Dorothy L. Sayers: Clouds of Witness

Last night, I finished the second Lord Peter Wimsey book, Clouds of Witness, and I very much enjoyed it.  Sayers is really quite a good writer, and although Lord Peter can get a little annoying at times, I basically like him as a character.  But here's what's interesting to me, at least at the moment:  Lord Peter is written as a modern, secular kind of guy, but Parker, the police inspector guy that Lord Peter runs around with, is all Christiany and traditional.  Inspector Parker reads commentaries on the New Testament as his bed time reading.  Now none of this is particularly interesting in and of itself, necessarily.  But here's the interesting piece:  Sayers herself was very vocal and "out" about her own Christianity.  She was certainly a scholar and an academic and a writer, and she made it clear that her beliefs and her faith motivated her work and informed her understanding of the world.  So, here's the thing:  in many ways, the middle-class, conservative, seemingly-Christian Parker would seem to be more like Sayers herself than is Lord Peter.  And I don't know what to make of this.  And I understand Peter's social class; after all, who doesn't want to read about a quirky member of the Peerage?  But why make Peter so markedly secular, especially in light of Parker's presence in the books.  I don't know where I'm going with the whole thing, but it seems somehow unexpected.

And So It Begins. . .

I've made it through the first two days of the semester.  And my sanity seems to be entirely intact.  I don't, however, expect this unaccustomed feeling of sanity to last much longer, as my allergies have been increasingly worse over the past week or so.  I'm good for the first eight hours or so after I wake up.  But then, suddenly my eyes are irritated, and all I really want to do is sleep, or maybe intermittently read and sleep.  Or maybe just zone out in front of the TV for a while.  But that's really not what I'd planned to say in this post.  What I really wanted to say is that I'm somehow both relieved and satisfied to be back to work.  It feels healthy and like working and teaching and reading and writing is what I somehow need to be doing.  But just now, I feel so completely exhausted that I think I could collapse.  I don't particularly enjoy the first day of class; I always end up going over my over-long, overly-detailed syllabus, and it's just not all that interesting, especially when I find myself doing it for the third or fourth time in two days.  Nonetheless, I do consider it important and worthwhile, but still boring as anything.  But I'm teaching such fun, fun stuff, and for the first time in a long time, my workload feels manageable.  For these things I am thankful.

Dorothy L. Sayers: Whose Body?

I'm just finishing Sayers's Whose Body? And yes, it really does have the question mark in the title, as you can see above.  Isn't this a really great, retro cover?  I have really enjoyed this book for a number of reasons.  I read one or two of Sayers's Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries some years ago, and I have seen two different actors portray Lord Peter, courtesy of the BBC.  But now, I've started at the beginning with Whose Body? and hope to read as much as I can of the series (in order, of course) over the next couple of weeks.  OK, so this book is set in England in the early 20s, I think--it was published in 1923.  And one thing that we discover about Lord Peter (a younger son, without land or a title) is that he suffers shell-shock.  I'm interested in how the World Wars affect English culture, and especially English cultural identity.  And--I don't know--I'm always interested in England between the wars, particularly.  But one really cool think about this novel is the ways in which the narrator keeps reminding us that it is, in fact, a novel, a work of fiction.  Over and over, Lord Peter makes remarks like, "well, if this were a Sherlock Holmes story, instead of real life. . . "  But of course, it's not real life and is much more akin to a Sherlock Holmes story.  Towards the end, the narrator tells us that Lord Peter, as an detective, albeit an amature one, has been affected by Holmes and other literary detectives.  And of course, Peter is, in a way, the literary offspring of Holmes.  Lord Peter himself is quite bookish and quotes poetry and that kind of thing a lot, which makes it all double fun!  I'm sure that Sayers's The Mind of the Maker would be instructive here, would allow one to make connections between literary creation and the real world, but I don't remember much about it all.  I'm sooooo enjoying Sayers, anyway.  She's a remarkable person; she was a scholar who, among other things, translated Dante's Divine Comedy, into verse, I think. (Lord Peter, by the way, purchases some rare edition of Dante and reads Dante in the novel.) And she's a really good writer--better, I'd say, than Agatha Christie, who writes during the same period and seems to be much more popular, at least now.  Anyway, I realize that this isn't so like super insightful  or super academic or anything.  But I'm just really enjoying this novel and am especially intrigued by the intertextual references and how they suggest we might read / interpret the work.  Oh, plus, the book opens with a man's finding a naked corpse, wearing only glasses, in his bathtub.  And it takes quite a while to decide whose body it is, hence Whose Body?  And really, that all by itself is great!

I just went upstairs to photocopy syllabi, but the photocopier jammed, which isn't unusual, and I'm waiting for the staff to fix it.  This means that I have a bit of free time.  I've realized last night and this morning that I'm super excited for the semester to start in some ways.  I'm teaching a course that I'm calling British Detective Fiction, and it's just feeling super fab and fun and interesting.  And maybe this is why I have the job I do, because where else would I be getting paid to reading and talk about Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Morse and Albert Campion and Inspector Dalgliesh and all the rest?  Really, what could be better than that?  And I'm looking forward to all the little things, like rereading The Hound of the Baskervilles and, even better, watching all the adaptations I can get ahold of.  The one with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee is the absolute worst / best.  It could qualify for MST3K, and if you are really interested, Netflix has a great trailer for it here, which gives a good sense of the tone and production quality of the whole thing.  And it just seems like there's so much to read and talk about and look forward to.  As I've been reading and thinking about this course, it's come to my attention that all these people I know, especially my colleagues, are sort of in the closet about reading murder mysteries, and it feels great to feel like there's actually this whole community of us indulging in this reading and that, I don't know, we don't have to keep being in the closet about it.  And I keep thinking about  mysteries and detectives and popular culture and official culture and medievalism.  And I keep watching more and more of the Midsommer Murders, which are grand, and plan to start at the beginning and watch all of the BBC's Inspector Morse, who is probably my favorite.  And it's nice--finally!--to feel interested in something again.

Ok, so I haven't posted much lately--here's a quickie update.  I'm feeling less depressed / anxious, which is good.  I've been busy with prepping for the new semester--classes start Monday.  I always kinda enjoy getting all organized and putting together syllabi and planning out my semester, but it's always a little maddening too.  For example, yesterday, I discovered that three novels I'd planned to teach this fall are out of print.  That really hadn't occurred to me as a possibililty (silly me!) and wasn't an eventuality that I'd considered.  And it was just somehow so frustrating.  I mean, it seems especially ridiculous (or something) that in a series of detective novels, all but one would be available, especially when it's the one that everyone seems to think the best.  And yes, they can be purchased used online for really very reasonable prices.  But that sort of isn't the point.  I guess it was an unexpected bump in the road, or whatever.  And I've been working a lot--mental work, not physical labour--and I've been tired but not able to get to sleep.  And the whole insomnia thingy is always maddening in its own way.  And then, I've been really craving a good cheese burger, which is unlike me, mostly because I don't normally eat dead cow.  So I guess I just don't really know what's going on with me other than to say that I've been working a lot and I'm tired but I'm somehow satisfied.

I don't know where to begin.  I've been back from CA for nine days now, and with each passing day, I've become increasingly blah feeling.  With the exception of yesterday, it's rained every day since I've been back.  And maybe that's part of my current listlessness.  About four days ago, I had several nights of wicked bad insomnia, and that affects my mood too.  And maybe it's just that I'm ready to go back to work; after all, it's been about three months since I've really worked.  The only other summer I've not taught was the summer I was working, nearly feverishly, to finish my dissertation.  And that counts as work, doesn't it?  I had grand plans, at one point, to get lots and lots of studying and prep and writing done over the summer, but somehow that didn't happen.  Until I left for CA, I did get lots of crafting and yoga and fun reading done, and it seems like that's really, really what I needed to do with my summer.  (And wow, when's the last time I wrote a "what I did with my summer vacation" essay?)  But now, on the other end of things, I feel icky, that whole I-haven't-accomplished-anything feeling, coupled with creeping anxiety, the paralyzing kind.  And apparently Netflix is having technical difficulties, so I don't have anything good to watch.  *sigh*  I'm just feeling kinda lonely and lost and purposeless.  Not good.  But starting next week, I'll just have to get a lot of work done, in anticipation of the new semester, and really, maybe that's good for me.  I'm looking forward to it.

Oi.  So I haven't posted in ages, and there are lots of good reasons for my silence.  But they really aren't that interesting, I suppose.  I was in California for nearly 2 weeks.  It was a good, if somewhat exhausting, trip.  But I think I'm glad to be home.  My semester starts in less than two weeks, and I'm feeling pretty anxious about it.  I don't know why I'm feeling anxious, but it's a really unpleasant (at best) kind of feeling.  And so it goes.  I'm at work today, attempting to pencil out syllabi and plan for the semester; classes require more advance planning than most people suspect.  It feels good to be getting organized and sorted and all that.  It seems that I only have really banal kinds of things to say.  Oh well.

T13: Things For Which I Feel Thankful Every Day

I've probably said this before, but I'm convinced that at least part of the key to contentment is truly appreciating the small, everyday kinds of things in our lives.  And lately, I've been very much aware of the things and happenings and people for which I feel truly thankful each day.  And so I offer this list, hoping that I can make it to thirteen.  Some are obvious, some mundane, but always counting our blessings seems like a healthy practics.

1.  Dishes.  Some of you know that I own more than one set of dishes.  And I enjoy them all.  I love having what I consider just the right bowl or plate for each occasion and each meal.  And I want different bowls for oatmeal and soup and ice cream and salad, and I enjoy them all.  The same with tea cups and mugs and tea pots.

2.  Dogs.  Quite literally, every day I am so thankful that each one of my dogs is a part of my life.  Each is different, and I have a different relationship with each.  But each provides so much love.  And my life is absolutely richer because of Guinnie, Polly, and Fenway.

3.  Books.  I read at least something each day.  And my life, again, is more full and rich and meaningful because of books and books and more books.

4.  My yard.  One thing I love about this time of year in Vermont is that every day there's something new and different to see in my yard.  Taking the dogs out each day is like a treasure hunt.

5.  Soup.  I really love soup.  There are so many variations, and regardless of the time of year, I find it to be such a satisfying meal.  Plus, it's a really good excuse for bread and butter!

6.  Creativity.  I like the sense of living creatively.  I like feeling like the mundane things I do, I can do creatively.  I mean, when I cook or get dressed or whatever, I'm always looking for opportunities to do these things creatively.

7.  Textiles and Fibers:  I've been sewing and crafting lately, and it's just so wonderful.  And although small things, I feel so blessed by fabric and paper and yarn and ribbon and all kinds of materials.  Just a small spool of grosgrain ribbon, purchased for less than a dollar, can afford so much sheer joy.  A skein of yarn can produce absolute bliss.

8.  Scented candles.  Again, candles aren't so important in the grand scheme of things, and yet the enjoyment they bring far outweighs their monetary value.

9.  Clean sheets.  I love the feeling of freshly laundered sheets.  There's nothing quite so perfect as getting into bed when the sheets are just right.

10.  Tea.  My doctor has suggested that maybe I should cut back on my tea consumption.  And in theory, I suppose it's not a bad idea.  But in practice, I just am not ready to cut back.  Tea, again, provides a satisfaction that is difficult to describe.

11.  A perfect turkey sandwich.  Lately, I'm in love with this sandwich that they sell at the deli of my local grocery store.  It's turkey with cranberry sauce and stuffing on a cibatta roll. And it is just delightful.

12.  Yoga practice.  Yoga practice provides a state of relaxation and well being that I've seldom found elsewhere.   Again, it's something that's difficult to describe yet, like tea, something I just don't want to live without.

13.  Friends.  Daily, I feel deeply, deeply thankful for my friends.

So maybe this list is sappy and predictable.  I mean, who doesn't care about friends?  It's just that at this single, precise moment, all these seem really important, and I feel so much deep gratitude for all thirteen.

A Perfect Meal

There's something exciting and wonderful and so satisfying about having an ideal meal, you know?  It's like sometimes the culinary planets are in perfect alignment, and the meal is just right for the situation.  And that makes me so totally happy.  I just had a late supper of a small bowl of lobster bisque and a glass of Riesling.  And it somehow seemed just right (call me Goldilocks) for this steamy summer evening.  And the soup wasn't homemade, just something I picked up from the grocery store take-out section.  And it doesn't seem like a cream soup would be so perfect for my sticky, hot state.  And yet, it all seemed just right.  It's getting close to 9:00.  I plan to get in bed early, finish my wine, and watch Bravo while reading Jasper Fforde until I'm ready to sleep.  It almost feels like all is right with the world.

I Heart CA

Lately, all I can think about is that I wish I were in California.  And I'll be visiting in a week, but that's not what I mean.  I want to be living someplace that feels like home, not like some different culture where I'll never quite find my place, because that's how New England feels to me.  It's been hot the past few days, but not that dry, desert heat that I associate with home.  It's been warm but wet and rainy and it feels like there's nowhere fun to go, nothing fun to do.  I take that back:  there's lots fun to do right at home, but nowhere to go.  I want to be where there are real malls and Targets and Gaps.  Is that just superficial?  Oh, let's not forget Trader Joe's and Mexican food.  Really, is that asking too much?  I''m tired, at least for now, of this sodden but oh-so-green summer.  I want the desert.  And I want to be with friends.  And I want to feel like I'm a part of something larger than myself.

A Crafting Update

I've almost finished this dress--I still need to hem it.  And although it's kinda boring in the picture, it's cute on.  It's Simplicity 2846.   It's made of a fairly light weight cambric.  And my idea is that I can wear it now as a summery dress and later with a turtleneck and tights as a jumper.  But what's really exciting is that I've been researching how to alter patterns for a fuller bust--apparently it's called a FBA or a full bust alteration.  And this dress is my first experiment with it; it turned out really well, and I'm quite pleased with the fit.

Also, I've been working on some hand embroidery.  This is a pink creamer motif on a tea towel.  It's from Aunt Martha's Hot Iron Transfers 3890.  I really love the vintage quality of this piece and plan to do a tea towel with a matching sugar bowl, although that may be a while in coming.



So, with one project and another, I've been a busy stitcher.  And it makes me very happy.  Such fun, and so practical too!

Success (For Real This Time)!

I'm so very pleased to say that my basement is just about in the shape I've always wanted it to be in.  I've spent several hours each of the last three or four days working away.  I'm just so excited--it's been just over two years since I've had "organize basement" on my list of things to do.  There are just a few more changes I think I want to make.  First, I think I want a second table to work at.  Right now, I have a 60x30 inch folding table for crafting, sewing, cutting out fabric, whatever.  But I think that purchasing a second, inexpensive folding table would be wonderful, so that I can have more than one project going at a time and still have space to spread out.  I figure if I position them in an L-shape, I can roll on my office chair from project to project.  Second, I think I want to paint the walls, although I'm not sure what color.  I think it would be super fun to do a wall or part of a wall in chalkboard paint.  I mean, wouldn't that be great to be able to write notes and such on the wall?  I'm also thinking about buying some of that primer filled with iron filings for a part of a wall; it's this great product that makes the surface such that magnets adhere to it.  Again, that seems both fun and practical.  But we'll see--there are other paint projects around the house that I may want to tackle first.  One of my goals in organizing the space was not to purchase anything--shelving, storage bins, whatever--but to only use what I already had on hand.  I'm pleased to say that I met this particular goal.  So things are good--this feels really great.

Success!

Well, maybe "success" is too strong a word.  But I feel like I'm approaching it.  Sometime last week, I know I wrote about how I feel so defeated by my basement.  But today, I'm pleased to say, I did spend some time down there organizing stuff and making it a more comfortable, usable space.  And it feels really good to feel like I'm making some progress.  Don't get me wrong--I still have a long way to go.  And it may never be perfect.  But at least I'm doing something and not just allowing anxiety to get the better of me.  I realize that part of the problem is that I really have more stuff than I have usable storage for.  And I suppose that part of the solution is to stop acquiring stuff that I can't really store and ultimately don't make use of.  I know this is pretty obvious, but I feel like it's something that I need to remind myself of.  (Oh dear, I ended the last three sentences with prepositions--bad, bad, bad!)  Anyhow, I do feel good about simply facing the situation and taking some sort of action.  I plan to reward myself by opening a bottle of my favorite everyday wine, Ravenswood Vintner's Blend Zinfandel.

Ian McEwan's Atonement

So last night, I started reading McEwan's novel Atonement.  When the movie came out (was it 6? 9? months ago), I had zero interest in the film.  This may be because of Kira Knightley's presence, or it may be because there were lots of war scenes in the TV commercials.  Either way, the movie wasn't appealing to me, but the novel sounded interesting.  So I started it last night.  I've read about 60 pages, and it's beautifully written.  And the same events are told from several different perspectives--I like that in a novel.  Something about it reminds me of V. Woolf, although it's not terribly stream-of-consciousy.  But it's interesting and well written.

Frustration

Ok, so I have a fairly large finished basement.  It's a really great space in a number of ways.  When I first moved it, my idea was to use it as a study.  And so I have my desktop computer and lots of books down there.  However, a little over a year ago, I started using one of my upstairs bedrooms as a place to work and read and write and all that.  And my idea was that the entire downstairs, or most of it anyway, could be used as a dedicated crafting space.  And it's a great space for that kind of thing.  And I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have a big table where I can leave out my sewing machine and fabric or paper and stamps or whatever else I'm working on.  This kind of space is, of course, any crafter's dream.  But here's the problem.  My basement is this total disorganized mess.  It's become this messy catch-all storage place.  I have bins of old clothes that I want to get rid of or refashion or just store.  I have stacks of paper and stickers and cards and paper crafting supplies.  I have bins and boxes of fabric and patterns.  I have ink and stamps and markers and dominoes everywhere.  And try as I might, it's like I can never get the space organized.  Part of the problem is that I don't have storage for some of the stuff that would allow it to be accessible.  The other part of the problem is that I simply have too much stuff, and that frustrates me, so I just tend to avoid having to deal with it.  And it's really bad.  Anyone who's seen it in recent months could verify that it's a mess, that there's too much stuff, and that it's probably hazardous, for some day I'm going to trip on something, I just know it.  And it's such a shame because I have this great space that I'm not using.  I'm convinced that if I could get organized and maybe get another table, I'd spend more time creating and that, consequently, I'd be happier.  It's so frustrating, and I don't even know where to begin.  Arrgh!

Ruminating on Feminism and the Third Wave and Marriage

Ok, I know this is a topic that I keep rehashing here, but it's because I keep rehashing it in my head.  I've been really trying to decide what it means for me when I say that I'm a feminist.  And really more to the point, can I be a feminist and really like crafting and glittery eye makeup?  Some might say no.  The third wavers might say yes.  I'm becoming increasingly frustrated over this topic, and I don't know why.  But I'm ready to throw up my hands, quit my job, and get pregnant.  Just kidding.  What I'm discovering more and more is that being single, living alone, not having the kind of support system that might come from a partnership is really difficult.  And I wonder if single men feel this way.  I mean, I certainly don't fool myself into thinking that all my problems would magically go away if I were married, but it does seem like some of my problems would be easier to face, you know?  And what does this mean about me in terms of feminism?  I mean, I think that marriage is a wonderful thing, and there are manifold reasons that marriage, as an institution, has stood the test of time.  But is there something wrong or somehow unfeminist of me to believe that at least some things would be easier if only I had the right kind of man in my life?  It all gets very discouraging in that as I get older it seems like there are fewer and fewer options out there; it's harder and harder to meet men whom might interest me.  Ok, so here's where someone is supposed to jump in and suggest eHarmony.  Ha, ha.  Seriously, something about their TV commercials kinda freaks me out, you know?  I mean, it feels too kinda system-ish or something, like they will assign you a quotient and then match you with compatible quotients, and suddenly we're all just numbers.  Actually, just out of curiosity, about six weeks ago, I went to the eHarmony web site and filled out their questionnaire thingy, just to see what they'd say.  And you want to know what they said?  They said that they couldn't help me--mind you, this was after I'd answered any number of crazy questions.  They couldn't help me.  So now I'm an eHarmony reject.  That's Ok, eHarmony, I didn't need you anyway--I feel like the woman scorned or something.  I keep telling myself that if it's meant to be, I'll meet the right man.  I also keep hearing the voice that says, "You just gotta put yourself out there."  I'm never quite sure what that means.  Is it so different from saying "You're really out there."  This digression, of course, is reminding me of Fox Mulder and "The Truth is Out There," which as a kind of zippy tag line, I find quite useful.  I'm going to stop now, as I've wandered away from the proposed topic.