spinster

Spinster

Now this particular girl
During a ceremonious april walk
With her latest suitor
Found herself, of a sudden, intolerably struck
By the birds' irregular babel
And the leaves' litter.

By this tumult afflicted, she
Observed her lover's gestures unbalance the air,
His gait stray uneven
Through a rank wilderness of fern and flower;
She judged petals in disarray,
The whole season, sloven.

How she longed for winter then! --
Scrupulously austere in its order
Of white and black
Ice and rock; each sentiment within border,
And heart's frosty discipline
Exact as a snowflake.

But here -- a burgeoning
Unruly enough to pitch her five queenly wits
Into vulgar motley --
A treason not to be borne; let idiots
Reel giddy in bedlam spring:
She withdrew neatly.

And round her house she set
Such a barricade of barb and check
Against mutinous weather
As no mere insurgent man could hope to break
With curse, fist, threat
Or love, either.

- Sylvia Plath 

This poem by the lovely and tragic Sylvia is one of my new favorites. As some of you know, I'm officially and indefinitely single for the first time in a long time. I was with the same guy on-and-off (overwhelmingly on) for nearly six years. But hey - I taught myself to knit. I taught myself to make pitch-perfect Cajun maque choux. I taught myself to get by on roughly four hours of sleep a night. Now I'm teaching myself the art of solitude.

I like knowing that I can live or work wherever I may choose. I like not having to explain myself or check in with anyone. I like going on a date and not having a care in the world about where it may "be going." I like coming home to a quiet, empty house. Maybe I'm a spinster in the making?

There are worse things.

team tinkerbell

Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver

So I was listening to this amazing program from Wisconsin Public Radio called To The Best of Our Knowledge the other day and had an epiphany. One of their podcasts, entitled "The Uses of Enchantment," explores the concepts of fairy tales, magic, and imagination. Authors such as Neil Gaiman (one of my faves!) and A.S. Byatt were interviewed. It was very very fascinating and enjoyable...here's the link - Listen!

Anyway, a few of the interviews (especially the one with Byatt) and all of that talk about enchantment got me thinking. And here was what I realized: Our society needs a revival of classic "children's literature." I don't mean picture-books. I mean fantastic fairy-tale-adventures. Something to pique our imaginations and transport us to the good old days of fairy-princess costumes and rock forts in the back yard. We (adults) need battles on the high seas, true love, fairies & goblins, magic carpets, sea monsters, swashbuckling, and similarly wonderful things. (Admit it: You loved playing with today's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea-inspired Google doodle.) More importantly, actual children need them, too. Especially the kind of children who don't realize that they need those things anymore: Teenagers.

I have seen far too many kids in high school English classes made miserable by the old-fashioned prose and veiled social/political commentary often found in their assigned reading. But I don't think teachers should only assign the likes of Harry Potter and Twilight either. Students do need to read from the canon of Western literature, at least some of the time. But why not seek some middle ground? Have them read classic "children's literature," which I keep referring to in quotations because it qualifies as just really fabulous grownup literature nowadays. Peter Pan, The Jungle Book, Ivanhoe, and Treasure Island, immediately come to mind.  Have students read classic literature purely for the sake of a good story, rather than for the sake of digging out some obscure theme about the human condition. (And, if you want to get serious about it, you can find serious themes and references in children's lit, too. But why? It's just as wonderful when taken at face value.) Kids are carrying too much baggage as it is. And I don't care how old and cool someone thinks they are, there is no one who doesn't love stories about knights in shining armor, pirates, princesses, and animals that can talk.



If I had my way, teachers would toss The Scarlet Letter, Great Expectations, and Hamlet in favor of this "children's literature." It can be used to teach the same valuable lessons on plot, character, diction, syntax, and all that good stuff, while also being much more enjoyable. Students need language arts skills and exposure to classic literature, which doesn't need to entail torturing them with Dickens's literary musings on industrialized Victorian society. That only makes them tune out and teaches them, literally, to hate and fear the classics. Just sayin'. (By the way, Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors. But I'm a little too in touch with reality to think that the average high schooler would agree, no matter how hard I try to show them that his stories are actually really exciting and relevant.)

Let me know what you think. And all of us remember being beat over the head with a classic novel in high school. Sometimes it really works, sometimes it really doesn't. I want to hear about some of your own experiences.

project 2011.

Prepare for an exercise in self-absorption. Feel free not to read; I ain't mad at ya.

I just watched an episode of The Office about New Years' resolutions, and it reminded me that I haven't been doing too well with mine. I began 2011 as I'm sure most people did - slightly hungover yet optimistic - but can feel myself slumping. I think I need to put my goals out in the universe for everyone to see so that I feel accountable in some way. So here they are.

• Learn to cook for one. (And yes, I realize that this was also Andy Bernard's resolution. This is a very scary coincidence.) Cooking for one is actually not nearly as simple as it would seem. Adjusting measurements, buying the minimal amount of groceries, storing leftovers, making maximum use of produce, all without spending a disproportionate amount of money and throwing a ton of food away, is actually pretty complicated. And I have no interest in living with anyone other than Sammy (a dog) and Frank (a fish) any time in the foreseeable future, so it's a skill I must master. I ordered several cookbooks to this effect, but the farthest I ever got was sitting down with a glass of wine to pick out a recipe for that evening, then opting for another glass of wine and some Thai leftovers instead. So, no, things aren't going well on that front. Needs improvement. 
• Exercise. (Just a little.) I happen to be very lucky in that fact that I live a basically sedentary lifestyle and still manage to look all right in a swimsuit. I eat an ungodly amount of fast food and drink about a gallon of soda a day, I haven't voluntarily gone jogging in months now, and there's a weight machine in the spare room that has become the official drying rack for my delicate laundry. I'm not proud of myself; I see this as a huge problem. My current metabolic luck will eventually run out (I can't stay twenty-three forever, alas), and I won't have a single shred of self-control or self-discipline to my name. So I need to get in the habit of exercising! Fortunately,  I do love being outdoors and spend quite a bit of time there - I just happen to be usually sitting or walking leisurely. Maybe I can channel this into some dorky, healthy hobby. Like Frisbee golf. Needs improvement.
• Read 80-100 of the London Times' Top 100 Books of the Decade. Number 100 is The Position by Meg Wolitzer, which I haven't started yet. On the bright side, I've already read Twilight (no. 90), Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (no. 17), Reading Lolita in Tehran (no. 14), and Atonement (no. 9). Then again, those are only four books of a hundred, and only one of them is among the twenty I've resolved to get through this year. Eh. Satisfactory.
• Cut back on the soda. As a mentioned before, I am a fiend for soda. Pepsi, Coca Cola, Dr. Pepper, and, yes, even Fanta, Sunkist, Big Red. And the only diet soda I can really stomach is Diet Root Beer, so I am getting disgusting amounts of sugar every day (which may or may not be worse than creepy artificial sweetener, but who knows). I have a serious problem. So I decided to cut it back to ONE a day, which isn't difficult for most people but is pretty hard for me. So far, I've managed to cut back to two most days and drink Perrier with lemon the rest of the time. Satisfactory.
• Curse less. Yes, I curse like a sailor. Like a drunk sailor. There's actually something perversely graceful about it. I don't just curse; I weave a "tapestry of obscenity," as Ralphie would say. Strangely enough, this is not a marketable skill. Fortunately, I've spent a lot of time around family over the past few weeks and have had to majorly hold myself back. I've slipped a few times (which my mother just loved, let me tell you), but I'm getting it under control. Of course, the true test will come when I inevitably walk into an inanimate object (as I have a tendency to do) and break my little toe or something. My inner she-pirate might just rear her ugly head. Until then, I will report on myself as: Excellent.

I have some bad habits that I have no interest in breaking because I enjoy them too much, and everyone needs a vice or two. But, by God, by the end of this year, I will be able to report "Excellent" on all of these things! Or there's always 2012. Just kidding. Maybe.

(one more unofficial resolution: don't turn into amy winehouse)

theology lite

I haven't readily associated myself with any religion for years now. I've never felt entirely comfortable with the concept of Heaven and Hell, to be honest. It always broke my heart a little bit. After spending much of my young adult life in an existential panic, I've arrived at a conclusion or two. I don't think I can fully grasp these conclusions myself until I articulate them to someone else, so bear with me here.

I might as well cut to the chase: I think everyone is right about everything. Cop out? Nah. I just don't buy into the whole "You're wrong, I'm right" attitude that pervades many religious communities, notably those of the Abrahamic tradition (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam). I'm inclined to say that just because someone doesn't agree with your spiritual convictions doesn't mean they're blind to the truth. It means they're seeing something different, and they really do see it. Who are you to contradict them? Let me elaborate.

Common sense will tell you that people don't gamble their souls lightly; their religious beliefs are based on what is true to them. They're willing to stake their eternal fates on those beliefs. That is precisely why we've always been so willing to kill each other over this stuff; no one can bear to consider the possibility that they might be wrong. And why should they? They have as good a reason for their convictions as you do. We've all read holy books, each which purports to be the inspired word of our respective higher powers; many of us feel a communion or personal relationship with whatever divinity we've chosen to worship; most of us have grown up in communities with like-minded people who validate and encourage our religious beliefs. So what qualifies one religion as truer than another? Faith. The blind hope and deep-seated conviction that your path is the only one. Here's the rub: Everyone's got it.

I'm going to pick on the Christian and Islamic traditions, since they seem to be the most culturally relevant today. Both are equally convinced that they are correct, both sides can provide "evidence" for their convictions, and both sides have proven in the past that they willing are to stake their very souls on the chance that they're right. You can't argue with that type of reasoning. When anyone tries, they end up running in circles and providing different variations of the same evidence: holy texts, miracles, personal revelation, etc., tailored to fit both viewpoints. Obviously no one would choose to worship Allah or pray to Jesus Christ unless they were convinced that it was the right thing to do. And of course they are equally unreceptive to conversion. If you're a devout Christian, for instance, imagine how you would respond if a Muslim missionary approached you in a shopping mall. Why would you expect a devout Muslim to react any differently?

So how can anyone possibly hope to win the spiritual conflict? Simply put, you can't. You just have to wait until you die to find out you were wrong, and by then it's too late.

Let's say you're on your deathbed, and you're at peace. You have lived your life in the way that all religious traditions essentially demand: You were good to your fellow man, you were generous with your time and money, you expressed gratitude for your blessings, you were honest and kind, you prayed/meditated/worshiped faithfully. Surely a peaceful afterlife awaits you. But then you make your way to the pearly gates, and you realize you've made a horrible mistake: They (whoever they may be) really were right, and you really were wrong. But surely there's some leeway! After all, you'd done your best, and there was no indication at any point in your earthly life that you might have placed your bet on the wrong team. Ironically enough, you had always been told that eternal damnation awaited you if you didn't disregard opposing viewpoints. So how were you to know? And yet this divine figure, who is supposed to be the supreme embodiment of love, hope, and grace, can muster no forgiveness. Off you go to Hell. The joke's on you. 

Anyone else find this scenario, which is tacitly accepted by adherents to Abrahamic religions, intensely disturbing? Your doubts have earned you, too, an eternity in a fiery pit. But why not assume that everyone is right? Why not let your spiritual truth be that all roads lead to the same destination? The divine power I believe in is one that tells us to be kind to one another and find wisdom where we can.

I understand that my extremely liberal view of spirituality may be enough to condemn me according to some belief systems, and I accept it. I find no comfort in the prospect of Heaven if it means that millions of otherwise good people must burn for all eternity because they happened to choose wrong and I happened to choose correctly in the great game of religion. All I can do is learn as much as I can about everyone and everything, and look at life (and the afterlife) as the strange and wonderful mystery that it is. There are some religious traditions that also follow this train of thought, and those are the ones with which I may eventually reconcile. At the end of the road, perhaps I can achieve some sort of truce with the universe.

Whatever your opinion on the things I've said, I have one response to you: You're right.

I'm sure that these musings will engender a variety of personal responses and opinions, but I know that most people can't leave comments here. So call or privately message me if you want to pat me on the back or tell me off. I'm cool with either one.