Something I saw, and needed to share.
Because it is honestly and simply perfect.
Enjoy.
The Uses of Sorrow (Mary Oliver)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
" ... and honey, you know me, it's all or none ... "
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
… you make the rockin’ world go ‘round …
There I was, in Coffee Underground, typing on my prone-to-die laptop. I‘m drinking tea made in a teapot shaped like an elephant, on a red velvet antique sofa. It is five minutes after the race began, and I feel like a putz.
Why? Because, yet again, I set an ambitious goal and prevented myself from doing it. I tried really, really hard. And then I made myself hate running. Really loathe it. And do you do things you hate HATE hate doing? No. So could I do my 10K today? No. Physically unable to run the whole thing without stopping (my goal). And that, in that moment, it made me rather irritated at myself. I’m mad because I want to finish a race, I want to reach my goals and I want to do it fast. And I’m just not a person who gets things or achieves things quickly or easily.
And now - lesson learned, maybe for good this time. Slow and steady and … something. I’ll modify and adjust. And I will make myself love running again, because honestly I need to (what a functional relationship!).
I hit a wall with my reading goal – Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses was miserable going for me. Just plain horrid. I understand that some books are just difficult but I found very little enjoyment in 90% of this book. To be fair, it wasn’t chosen for enjoyment purposes – I chose it for the controversy and drama. Murders, bombings, and protests happened because of this book (links about the real life drama, in detail, are at the end). That made it somewhat attractive. How could this NOT be a good book? Answer is – it is a very interesting work. It has nice pieces to it, and has some charming short stories near the end. The rest is confusing and like a vivid, crazy, waking dream. Which was likely the point, as one – arguably both – of the main characters are quite insane. The biggest ‘take-away’ was the argument that people mold the concepts of ‘God’ and ‘religion’ into forms that allow them to harm others and excuse their own actions. And I can’t wholeheartedly disagree. I’ve seen it happen. And what’s worse – it shows the people who decide to do this as crazy, amoral, monstrous. And I still can’t wholeheartedly disagree. Honestly, I’ve never finished a book and been happier to put it down, but it did lead to some related philosophizing, which isn’t a bad thing. If you’re interested in further discussion, mention it in the comments.
But, to round things out, I’ve had a lot of new experiences since my last post, learned a lot, I’m waiting on more contact from folks with an exciting employment opportunity or two, and overall I’m making healthy choices mentally and physically. At least, trying to. I’ve been caffeine free for 6 days. Niffer challenged me on my sweetener usage – and that’s gone too. None for 6 days. And I haven’t been missing it so far. So really, I don’t lack dedication for things, just for my running shoes. Which will get fixed. Today.
C and I have been watching The Italian Job today, which brings me to the definition of ‘fine’. Freaked out. Insecure. Neurotic. Emotional. It’s a good joke, and makes people giggle because it’s true. When have you been ‘fine’ because that’s what people needed to hear? Is that really the best use of yourself, your energy, your unique self? Is there a better way to be then proclaiming that you’re ‘fine’ when you aren’t? I generally avoid the word ‘fine’ because of this movie. But I still cover up a lot. How much of that is learned, and how much is really OK?
Less giddy joy and information, more rambling about my little, silly life.
Information on The Satanic Verses - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Satanic_Verses_controversy
Doesn’t this look fun? EtB videos – http://www.youtube.com/user/shaugran?feature=watch
Song I’ve had on repeat this week - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_4utiBscIE
Friday, February 10, 2012
... Sit and think, down and drink - sing this sad, sad song. You can bring me flowers, baby, when I’m dead and gone ...
I have been lax in posting lately. This is partially due to my laptop journeying to I-refuse-to-turn-on-without-complex-rituals-being-performed-in-my-honor-ville, and partially due to the fact that, as always, my life gets busy. As lives typically do.
This week I buried a friend. I didn’t know her too well, or even for too long. But Amanda and her dog Louie had a major impact on my life. Her suicide took many of her friends by surprise, even if she had come upon hard times. She was compassionate, stubborn, knowledgeable, friendly, giving, and intelligent. She had high standards for herself and others, and never compromised on things that she felt mattered the most. Her service was simple, with bells, biographical notes, and a bible passage. The service was held in a church that embraces tenets of many faiths and welcomes people regardless of their sexual orientation, martial or socioeconomic status, and history. Amanda would’ve liked that. One thing that made the service different from any I’ve experienced was that it also included a surprisingly frank discussion of suicide, which was both welcome and unsettling.
The speaker addressed the elephant in the room, and used the M*A*S*H theme song to start his reflections. He painted Amanda’s choice to take her own life as her final act of courage – her pain was creeping up on her slowly and she saw no solution except to end the pain by ‘pushing the sword in fully’. She apparently saw herself as a burden and didn’t believe in public assistance and saw this as the only way. We were encouraged to respect her choice and to hope for the best for her soul. She had been a good person, so her life would come to a place of wholeness. I found all this very hard to sit through, as did Auntie Joyce. We were told to let our feelings of guilt and anger go, and to remember only the moments of joy in Amanda’s life, instead of the ones where she was troubled, tired, and in pain. He told us to let go. He rang a bell and told us to leave in peace.
I don’t let go easily. It’s a major flaw of mine. I gather my friends around me and sing and gamble and dance and try, for a minute, to forget how fragile things really are.
But I tried. We tried. I kidnapped Joyce to make us both feel better, and drove off to Greenville. We bought books, holed up in my favorite coffee shop, and alternated between happy stories (Auntie apparently smuggled a phone into Columbia once), reading, and people-watching. She left her coffee order up to me, and she got a latte with half a pack of brown sugar. So did I. I read Rushdie and tried to figure out if I had an opinion other then ‘meh’. She read murder mystery short stories. She came to Tuesday swing and watched me dance (“You just sparkle, Sara!”), after I had my house bourbon and she let me order her beer (Purple Haze). She made friends, and fell over trying to dance with a younger (“He was so handsome! Go dance with him!”) man. She also giggled like a schoolgirl when she saw the young couples cuddled close, slow dancing. Somehow, the physical activity coupled with Auntie’s joy at being somewhere new helped the tightness in my heart ease, just a tiny bit. I got her home by Bert’s curfew, and huddled in my bed under layers and layers of blankets. I felt cold and small.
My life also has its effervescent moments of joy – a perfect swing-out, the burn after my bourbon, laughing at Joyce’s crazily perfect stories, perfect advertisements on Craigslist (link below), meeting the most oddly perfect new friends, Sherlock and popcorn and puppies, FarScape and crazy cats, advocacy, dinosaurs and hordes of four-year-olds, Matt Nathanson’s dirty mouth, masquerade balls, and banned books.
My latest taboo joy – The Hunger Games. This gem of YA literature has been on the most challenged list for age appropriateness, violence, and for being sexually explicit.
I’m going to come right out and state that I don’t begin to understand the complaint about the book being sexually explicit. Did I, as a grown-ass woman, miss the sexy-times in the book? I mean, there was some making out, and nudity was mentioned, and teenagers were left alone and unchaperoned… while they were trying to kill each other. So yeah, no real chances of sexy-time. Please tell me if I just missed it somehow. Now, the charges of violence – I agree the book is violent - very violent for a children’s book. You hear a characters screams as they are ripped apart, slowly, by creatures in the woods. A main character murders someone and watches a very tragic death of someone she cares about. The book is bloody – and made me, an adult, cringe a little. I feel that while sad and at times scary, the discussion of killing and murder in YA literature is not inappropriate, and the deaths were dealt with – the seriousness and sadness made evident – this was not some psychopath murdering for the joy of it. The major issue still remains – is this book age appropriate? I say yes. Going by the definition of 14 – 22 (what librarians and publishers generally consider the YA demographic); I can say this book is appropriate and valuable in the stacks.
Valuable? Yes, I call The Hunger Games a valuable book. First off, let’s look at is as a lesson in civil disobedience. Peeta’s family, as well as families in the land of Panem, do what they can to survive – including bending and breaking the laws of the land, without causing death and pain to others. The importance of personal decision and using your mind to help you escape problematic circumstances are highlighted. The need (hard to see, but there nonetheless) to examine where society is headed and asking if we are going back to the bread-and-circuses with our iPods in hand is clear. The need to question, verify, challenge, and act with as much integrity as one can are not values in every YA book. I’d hate to see this one banned.
Personally, I could barely put this book down. It was all I could do to not go buy the other two and devour them. A pleasant distraction, a good read, and not some mushy sparkly vampire book for teenagers to moon over. This afternoon I have a coffee date, a book to read, a friend's dog to walk, a bathroom to clean, and Sherlock to watch. Tomorrow I have a dessert to make, a house to tidy, and a party to attend.
And I sparkle.
Friday, January 27, 2012
... No one can find the rewind button now - sing it if you understand ...
DISCLAIMER – This is a banned book post. A report of sorts. On a book that is either frequently challenged or is/has been banned. Some content may not suit you. So, consider if you want to continue reading, or if you’d rather wait for a ‘normal’ post.
Very few things in my life have perfect timing. A precious, precious few. My art class study-abroad came at a perfect time, as did my travel to the UK. My first summer working at camp. Meeting my longtime tenant and friend, K. My independence rearing its head in the summer of ‘09. The events that all culminated on my birthday week in ’11 (what a week). Meeting my new Greenville friends.
My latest banned book had freakishly perfect timing because it dovetailed with timing of events in my life in a strange, mysterious way that I can’t wrap my brain around. It’s even weirder when you consider the book is Beloved by Toni Morrison. To begin – the book. At the end – the way it fit into my life, at a very odd juncture.
Very few things in my life have perfect timing. A precious, precious few. My art class study-abroad came at a perfect time, as did my travel to the UK. My first summer working at camp. Meeting my longtime tenant and friend, K. My independence rearing its head in the summer of ‘09. The events that all culminated on my birthday week in ’11 (what a week). Meeting my new Greenville friends.
My latest banned book had freakishly perfect timing because it dovetailed with timing of events in my life in a strange, mysterious way that I can’t wrap my brain around. It’s even weirder when you consider the book is Beloved by Toni Morrison. To begin – the book. At the end – the way it fit into my life, at a very odd juncture.
Beloved has been challenged in schools in Florida, Texas, and Maine (at least, these stats are the results of only light research). The reasons varied – violent images, language, sexual material (incest, rape, pedophilia, graphic sex, sexual abuse, bestiality) physical/emotional abuse, infanticide, and profanity. And yes, this is a dark book. A heavy book. A book that repeats itself time and again in the final chapter as a story you aren’t meant to share. Why does it keep popping up? Why does it keep offending people? If it isn’t a worthwhile book, why doesn’t it just go out of print? The reason is that Beloved is a book that confronts. It makes people confront their past, confront their sins, and realize their present. And people don’t handle these ideas well at all. I don’t handle these ideas well at all.
Sethe is a former slave (she escaped to Cincinnati) who lives in a house haunted by a baby – her child. She has given birth to several children, but only one still lives with her – the others have fled or died. She and her daughter, Denver, do not mix with the community. In the beginning you assume it has to do with the house – and you are partially right. But as the story moves on and you learn the daily struggles of Sethe and Denver’s lives, you begin to realize that it is much more then the house that keeps them isolated. In the opening of the novel, a slave named Paul D. visits Sethe and becomes her lover. They worked on the same plantation years ago before Sethe escaped. While Paul D. provides her with joy and companionship, he begins to bring back memories that haunt Sethe. Paul D. (briefly) exorcises their resident ghost. Denver is upset, because she believes the ghost to be her baby sister. The ghost is also Denver’s only companion. She partly forgives Paul D. when he takes both ladies to a carnival. Sadly, this joy is short lived. Upon returning, a strange being appears at Sethe’s house. It is a well-dressed young woman who calls herself Beloved. She looks strangely like Sethe and behaves oddly – exercising a surprising amount of control over Paul D. (to the point of impelling him to have sex with her and moving him bodily around the house) and Sethe (using emotional manipulation and fear to cripple her). Eventually you discover Beloved is a sort of revenant/ghost/demon of Sethe’s dead child – and is back to be with Sethe. Sethe begins telling the women about (and while telling, begins to relive) her horrific past. Paul D. finds out why the community shuns Sethe and why her baby is dead. He cannot stay with Sethe after he discovers her secret, and leaves. For a time, Denver is alone with the demon and her mother – providing for them and trying to protect her mother from the overbearing, overwhelming presence of Beloved. Beloved physically harms Denver and Sethe when she does not get her way, causes them to starve, and keeps Sethe from working. Finally, Paul D. and the community overcome their distaste for Sethe’s past actions and exorcise her house. While free of Beloved’s presence, Sethe continues to suffer and is burdened with guilt. She has to come to grips with her past and see it for what it is before she can move into the present and dream of the future along with Paul D. and Denver.
Still from the movie with Oprah Winfrey and Thandie Newton -
Wow – this book is violent. There are descriptions of bloody deaths, rape, whippings, difficult childbirths, and slow decent into madness. The descriptions of what some slaves could have gone through (just bodily) to escape to freedom in the north made my stomach turn. The emotional strain and heartache Sethe and Paul D. endured and boxed away was enough for several lifetimes. However, the fact that they boxed all of these emotions up and did not confront them lead to the very physical oppression of alcoholism (for Paul D.) and the crippling presence of Beloved (for Sethe).
The things that made this book worth the struggle were the characters of Baby Suggs and the realizations the community, Paul D., Denver and Sethe have in the final chapters. Baby Suggs is Sethe’s mother-in-law and the spiritual leader of the community. She calls the people in the community to laugh, cry, love, dance, embrace life and heal. When Sethe does the unthinkable and begins to justify her actions to others, Baby Suggs is overwhelmed and succumbs to illness. The community draws on her memory and the memory of her strength to save Sethe – realizing the hatred and fear they feel for her should be tempered with love. Sethe and Paul D.’s story closes on his realization that they both have had enough yesterdays and they need more tomorrows. They embrace themselves and each other, deal with the past, and leave Beloved behind.
I had to confront my past this week. Actions I took. Actions I did not take. The ways the actions and inaction hurt others. My mindset. My opinions. My desires against what my desires should be. Truth against lies. Past versus present versus future. I looked into the eyes of someone who was standing where I stood almost a year ago and realized I was being haunted. It wasn’t until that instant I was able to dispel the complete feeling of worthlessness and futility I’ve been carrying, In that instant I exorcised the demon – pregnant with hate and rancor – from my mind. I realized I was my own ‘best thing’.
Today, I choose to love myself. – all of me. I choose to trust, yet verify. I choose to remember without reliving. I choose to forgive myself and others. Today, I choose tomorrow.
Extra Credit - some of my workweek soundtrack.
Monday, January 23, 2012
...in the mountains the sun sets up in ribbons so high, it's like I don't never wanna get old, don't ever wanna die...
Banned Book Blurb -
Heard about this on NPR this morning - The Satanic Verses is on my booklist! Thought I'd share it, along with additional information from another news source.
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/01/17/145366081/indian-lit-festival-invitation-to-author-salman-rushdie-stirs-controversy
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/indiahome/indianews/article-2090348/Salman-Rushdie-Novelists-absence-weighs-Jaipur-Literature-Festival.html?ito=feeds-newsxml
Cheers!
Heard about this on NPR this morning - The Satanic Verses is on my booklist! Thought I'd share it, along with additional information from another news source.
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/01/17/145366081/indian-lit-festival-invitation-to-author-salman-rushdie-stirs-controversy
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/indiahome/indianews/article-2090348/Salman-Rushdie-Novelists-absence-weighs-Jaipur-Literature-Festival.html?ito=feeds-newsxml
Cheers!
Thursday, January 19, 2012
"... ain't no rest for the wicked, money don't grow on trees ..."
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Thursday, January 12, 2012
... your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine ...
I have been very remiss in blogging, running, and almost every aspect of being a normal responsible adult lately. I have been to work, naturally. I’ve seen friends. I’ve even embarked on a timeshare adventure with a husky puppy (I get to walk her and coax her into being a sweet obedient puppy, but no costs are incurred other then gas to go pet her). Other then discovering The Civil Wars (late on that one) and being very angry with Santorum for … breathing …
NO, SERIOUSLY. I LOATHE THAT MAN. I will be going to vote in the primary SIMPLY to vote for SOMEONE ELSE, so I can contribute to his demise.
He says nasty things about pretty much everyone, racist comments, his extremely holier-than-thou, and don’t even get me STARTED on the ‘the only moral abortion is my WIFE’S abortion and NO ONE ELSE can have one EVER’.
Let more informed and (possibly?) less biased minds inform you of the specifics -
Thank goodness for his ‘little Google problem’.
In less … ummm … political and emotionally charged news …
Rain makes me want to lounge in bed all day next to someone, drinking tea, reading books, and giggling. This week’s weather has put me off kilter, as I haven’t had the luxury of being able to do any of those things.
I also got to pick someone up at the airport (Nick now owes me something pretty, as his flight was DELAYED and I sat there forever). I love airports. They are magical, transformative places. Places you get to pass through and embark on an adventure – turn into a new person with a specific goal. No one knows who you are, and a few know where you’re headed. But NOBODY knows why other then the person who asks the obligatory ‘business or pleasure’ question. You could be a spy, or a housewife, or someone having a torrid affair. A CEO or a down on your luck person who just got fired – running home to momma. The sense of freedom from the massive amount of stories, personal drama, anonymity, and separation from the known is intoxicating. I was bodily sitting in a car, but mentally in Italy – on a piazza in Venice drinking a blood orange and champagne and eating the most delicious pizza ever while people-watching Italians. I was in heaven there, with my moleskine, food, and pencils – writing, sketching, and reading in complete bliss. No one cared that my sketches looked like shit. No one cared that I got sunburned from sunbathing in my underwear in a vineyard. No one cared that I was alternately blunt, crabby, wide-eyed, in love, and homesick. I was entirely within my own skin and I have never felt more powerful or more vulnerable. It was a perfect moment in time.
More extreme than, but similar to the first sip of my tea today, the kid who waved to me in the hall, the bit of sun peeking through the clouds, finding out about the child whose test scores increased by 33 points ... seconds of bliss.
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