It's been a while.
Mostly, I blame grad school--there really isn't time to do much outside of schoolwork. And summer is always much crazier than I expect it to be, and any writing I did was working on my novel (which I have since decided I need to shelve and ponder for a while because of reasons).
But the time away has given me a chance to think about the point of having a blog in the first place. I can certainly tell you what I do with it: sometimes I vent, occasionally I post an article I find interesting, and once in a great while I just like to update the virtual community about the goings-on in my life. But somewhere under all of that I know what this is really for--and I try to pretend I'm not avoiding it.
When I created this blog in 2011, it was because I was sick of not saying what I thought, sick of hiding from the things that I think and believe and care about. I was fresh out of college and everything was new and different and I decided: this is it. This is my space to think out loud. I'm going to create a blog that people have to choose to read, and it's not my fault if they don't agree, and if they don't care enough to hear me out and respect my perspective then that says more about them and the true nature of our relationship than it does about me.
That determination lasted for about three posts, and then I moved on to "I loved this book" and "ooh look at this interesting article I read." And now, years later, I'm still hiding.
Some of you may know, or have guessed, but it's not really a secret: I deal with a lot of anxiety. I've been told by a professional (but just one, so take that as you will), that I rank in the 93rd percentile for the amount of anxiety I have. (That means, she explained to a mathematically-challenged Piera, that only 7 percent of the population has more anxiety than I do.) That's... well, that's a lot of anxiety. I've lived with it for long enough that I don't always notice it, and teaching myself TO notice it has been the real challenge, but it's been getting better. Mostly. But it doesn't help me much when it comes to being honest with people about what I think. It's to the point now that a lot of the time I try to figure out how to say as much of what I mean in as little words as possible, because I can't believe that anyone would want to hear me talk long enough for me to get to what I'm actually trying to say. Mostly, that belief just shuts me up--I can't think fast enough, can't get to my main point fast enough, so it's probably better just to say nothing at all.
You might be wondering what I'm talking about. If you've made it this far (see my disbelief, above), then rest assured that I'll get to the point. Eventually. Probably.
It's hard, I have discovered, to exist as a practicing Christian in largely non-Christian environments. So hard, in fact, that a few people have been surprised to discover that I am a Christian. Someone told me once that they appreciated the way that I went about being one, because I didn't shove it in people's faces. In a certain sense, I was quite pleased to hear this, because I have little patience for people (Christians and non-Christians alike) who aggressively shove their beliefs in the faces of others. Underneath that initial pleasure, however, was the sinking feeling of failure, of being lukewarm. What does it say about my faith if I hold it so close to my heart that it surprises people to discover it there? And (more importantly) what does it say about God and what it means to have this faith--especially one that, as too few of you know, I hold at the very core of every way that I understand the world?
People (Christians and non-Christians alike) have an increasing tendency to make declarative statements about their beliefs, without considering (a) whether that statement truly aligns with and represents their "worldview" or theology, or (b) how they sound while making these broad, generalized comments. I have tried for my entire life to avoid doing either of these things. When non-Christians do them, I feel a vague sense of "that's not fair," because if I were to voice my beliefs about a particular topic, it would be generally written off as being preachy and obnoxious (and ain't nobody got time for that). But the thing is, when Christians make ignorant or abrasive comments, it makes me annoyed, nearly to the point of angry. Sometimes it's a matter of theology, and by theology I mean that what they are saying is not what the Bible actually says or means. Sometimes, even if their theology is correct, said Christian comes across as just generally being a loudmouthed jerk. Either way, Christianity, Christ, and the faith are all sorely misrepresented.
Before half of you who are reading this explode into a kind of frenzied alarm about my theological values, let me add this: I am not saying that Christians shouldn't advocate for their beliefs when those beliefs are fully grounded in what God has told us through his Word. I'm also not saying that those beliefs will be welcomed by the world, or that we should amend our beliefs so that they will be accepted by everyone. I'm not saying this at all. Both Jesus and Paul, among others (okay, like everyone in the Bible), make it perfectly clear that what we have to say is not going to be popular, and that is part of the challenge we face while we are still on earth. But there is a difference between holding firm to what you believe and being belligerent or rude about those beliefs.
In Paul's letter to the Colossians, he writes: "Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." [1]
Paul's not telling the Colossians (or us) to "say things that people want to hear." But he is explaining that as children of God, it's our job to live in a way that demonstrates the love and peace of Christ Jesus.
But, because this post is really about me and my issues (hashtag selfie...!), Paul also doesn't say "hide the truth, defend your pride, keep your mouth shut so you don't cause any conflict." And this is my daily struggle. This is the battle I continue to lose.
I'm so jealous of the people who seem to find it easy to state their beliefs on any given topic. Many of them even do it gracefully, in a way that people listen and accept that while they may have a different view, that person is entitled to those beliefs. Some of them have told me that I just need to "care less about what people think," which might have some value, but then again, might not be a value that I can fit into who I am. And besides I've spent too many years being told, by different people and in different ways, that what I have to say is only valid so long as it doesn't run contrary to what the other person is saying. Most of the time, in my effort to be humble, I give up on expressing myself in order to validate the other person (which, I should add, is more out of cowardice than actual humility). And now, here I am, trying to exist as an adult (ha!) with many people who don't share my beliefs or my faith, and with whom I am trying to maintain various types of relationships.
The problem, I have realized, is that there are so few people that I actually trust to hear me out, to let me hold the shrew-stone [2] long enough to make sense of my "divided mind" [3] and get to some kind of point. It's hard for me to accept that I take a while to process my thoughts. I like to think I have a quick wit, generally speaking, but when it comes to things I care about, things that matter, things that have to come from the very protected core of who I am--it might take hours, or days, or years. I might never say it, no matter how much I need to, no matter how much I want you to hear it. Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid of losing you, afraid of inviting an argument, afraid of damaging your feelings, afraid that I might have any kind of effect on you at all, and that you might resent me for it.
But even in those moments when I get over myself, when I truly believe that the things I have to say might be more important than either of our feelings, I am faced with the paralyzing fear that I will say the wrong thing. At the core of it all, I'm a writer. Words matter. And if I haven't had the time to draft and reflect and revise, then I'm not ready to tell you. And conversations move so fast, and you're almost done with your beer, or I have to get to class, and my ideas are exploding like fireworks and I can't pull the shells together fast enough to even hand you a piece of shrapnel as we walk away from each other. And anyway, even if I was a little faster, I might hand you the wrong piece, something out of context that doesn't really say what it's supposed to mean.
It's better to stay quiet. It's safer. I can't fuck anything up that way.
I've been writing this post in my head for years. I've started it twice and walked away from it. Right now I'm working on my third version of this draft, and I'm still fighting the urge to tuck it away somewhere, to not say anything at all and certainly not share this post on any kind of social media. This is my problem, my particular dramatic emotional issue. No one really needs to know about it.
Why do we blog, anyway? Why do we tweet, or repost, or share pictures about our lives? Do we really think our mostly-unregulated circles of kind-of-but-not-actually-"friends" care about what we have to say? Do we really think we'll make some kind of impression on anyone? Do we want to? Do we care?
I care. I care too much. I care about the person who's upset that I used the word "fuck" just now (and in a post about Jesus, too!). I care about the person who's caught up on my having a faith that's not even supposed to be widely accepted. I care about the people who are going to leave a comment to be supportive, to tell me that they care, that they think I have worthwhile things to say. I care too much, but I don't think any of that matters. I don't think I'm doing this for you. I think I'm writing because I have to, because it's eating at me from inside and if I don't start writing, don't start sharing in some capacity, don't take my rants out from behind my shower curtain and make them in some way public, I'm going to drive myself mad.
Peter tells us to "live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as servants of God." [4] That's why I started writing: because I am a free servant of God, and because's he's given me a capacity to write. He planted all these fireworks, and he's going to keep setting them off. I don't know if I'll ever know whether I'm affecting you. I don't think that's the point. I have to trust in the freedom I'm given, and trust that he wouldn't set me loose on the world if he didn't think it was a good idea. I have been saved by grace, through faith, [5] and that faith sets me free--free from fear and from the constant pressure I put on myself to be perfect.
Living without apology is the single most difficult thing I have ever tried to do. And it might never get any easier. But since I have the hope of Christ "as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul" [6] --what have I got to lose?
---
[1] Colossians 3:12-17
[2] it's a Redwall reference. basically everyone has to shut up while the person with the stone says what they have to say.
[3] in Greek, the word "anxious" translates most literally as "drawn in opposite directions" or "divided into parts." See here for more details.
[4] 1 Peter 2:16
[5] Ephesians 2:8
[6] Hebrews 6:19a
Showing posts with label piera's brain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label piera's brain. Show all posts
Sunday, September 20
Thursday, July 31
countdown
I think it finally hit me that my life is changing again, and I'm sort of in backpedal mode. No, I'm not pregnant. But I am starting grad school in September, and I am instructing two sections of English 101 in addition to taking my actual graduate courses (and still barista-ing on the side!) and basically, two weeks from now I will be trading in life as I know it so I can start all over again.
This was always part of my 'plan' [1], but it's hard to accept that I am, in fact, actually going back to school and actually getting hands-on, with-guidance practice/experience for the thing that I want to do as my career. I don't know how to be excited about that, because it's not even really ... real. It's like this pretend on-paper thing that's happening and it's all sort of still vague and overwhelming. Plus, the thought of actually teaching and being responsible for not one but two entire classes is just ... I mean, it's terrifying. Exciting, but terrifying. And I know in the back of my head that I really just have to--you know, show up, and go through the motions, and try not to stress out about how it's not going at all how I planned, and we'll all get through it together, but for the right-now, while I have the time to be thinking about it, it's sort of looming overhead as this big, all-consuming unknown thing.
And the weirdest part is that right now, I'm looking at the time I have before the four (count 'em, four) orientations before school starts, and I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't have done this in the first place. I feel like I just started to figure my shit out. I somehow magically jumped the hurdle of "getting my ass in gear" and I have been faithfully writing, working out, and reading the Bible. Like, pretty much every day, or in a comfortably-alternating pattern. [2] I am creating, rather than finding, a balance of work/social life/Piera time. I've stopped stressing out quite so much about the times when I decide to do something relaxing, because it's occurred to me that it's actually good for me to let myself chill out for a while (who knew). In some ways I feel that I have a lot more on my mental/emotional plate than I have in a while, but in other ways, I feel a lot more at peace with myself in general. And I'm excited about it, and about being generally positive and happy, and I'm not ready to give it up yet! I just freakin got here!
Two weeks. Two weeks and three weekends of actually being the way I've been trying to be for the last three years: content. And that's already slipping away because the list of "things I have GOT to do before school starts" is growing--things like my proofreading gig, and having to actually research and decide on (and pay for....) my own health insurance, and cleaning/organizing my study (and finding a desk to put in it, which is really the most important part), and changing my facebook settings so that students can't see my stuff, and making sure I have some quality time with the sibs before they leave for school again, and buying things like nice pants and shoes maybe? and I already have upcoming weekend plans, and ... suddenly I don't even have my two weeks anymore, and I'm careening down the slippery slope into the future.
Don't get me wrong: I absolutely would not take it back. I can't wait to be back in school. I like me the best when I am in school--I love constantly learning, constantly writing, constantly being presented with new ideas and new ways of thinking. I love the schedule and the routine and the whiteboards and all of it. It just seems that I have been working so hard to get here that I have wasted the last three years, and it's almost ... not fair? to suddenly have figured out how to live a life that I enjoy. That I want. I finally hit my stride, and haven't I been looking for it my entire life?
In a way, it's probably taken these last three years of work and discontent and disappointment and hope in order for me to be "ready" [3] for this. A friend of mine pointed out that I needed to go through all of the challenges of the last few years in order to to learn how to face Life and find some kind of balance. I have to stop thinking of it as a waste and start trying to see it as the learning process--but that's hard to do when I am finally here, and I can't remember what was so hard about it in the first place. Then again, I will have had a few months of this before I get started... maybe I needed it all to happen right now in order for me to be excited enough to carry it with me into the upcoming semester.
What I'm saying is, I just want to BE at the start of Orientation #1. Once I hit the ground running I won't have the time to look back, even if I wanted to--and I definitely don't want to.
---
[1] don't worry, I never actually counted on said plan, but it was, you know, there
[2] side effects may include: not knowing who you are anymore; wondering how long it's going to last before you fizzle out; random bouts of ridiculous excitement over the amount of productive I feel in a given day
[3] I'll probably be referencing this post from now until the day I die...
This was always part of my 'plan' [1], but it's hard to accept that I am, in fact, actually going back to school and actually getting hands-on, with-guidance practice/experience for the thing that I want to do as my career. I don't know how to be excited about that, because it's not even really ... real. It's like this pretend on-paper thing that's happening and it's all sort of still vague and overwhelming. Plus, the thought of actually teaching and being responsible for not one but two entire classes is just ... I mean, it's terrifying. Exciting, but terrifying. And I know in the back of my head that I really just have to--you know, show up, and go through the motions, and try not to stress out about how it's not going at all how I planned, and we'll all get through it together, but for the right-now, while I have the time to be thinking about it, it's sort of looming overhead as this big, all-consuming unknown thing.
And the weirdest part is that right now, I'm looking at the time I have before the four (count 'em, four) orientations before school starts, and I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't have done this in the first place. I feel like I just started to figure my shit out. I somehow magically jumped the hurdle of "getting my ass in gear" and I have been faithfully writing, working out, and reading the Bible. Like, pretty much every day, or in a comfortably-alternating pattern. [2] I am creating, rather than finding, a balance of work/social life/Piera time. I've stopped stressing out quite so much about the times when I decide to do something relaxing, because it's occurred to me that it's actually good for me to let myself chill out for a while (who knew). In some ways I feel that I have a lot more on my mental/emotional plate than I have in a while, but in other ways, I feel a lot more at peace with myself in general. And I'm excited about it, and about being generally positive and happy, and I'm not ready to give it up yet! I just freakin got here!
Two weeks. Two weeks and three weekends of actually being the way I've been trying to be for the last three years: content. And that's already slipping away because the list of "things I have GOT to do before school starts" is growing--things like my proofreading gig, and having to actually research and decide on (and pay for....) my own health insurance, and cleaning/organizing my study (and finding a desk to put in it, which is really the most important part), and changing my facebook settings so that students can't see my stuff, and making sure I have some quality time with the sibs before they leave for school again, and buying things like nice pants and shoes maybe? and I already have upcoming weekend plans, and ... suddenly I don't even have my two weeks anymore, and I'm careening down the slippery slope into the future.
Don't get me wrong: I absolutely would not take it back. I can't wait to be back in school. I like me the best when I am in school--I love constantly learning, constantly writing, constantly being presented with new ideas and new ways of thinking. I love the schedule and the routine and the whiteboards and all of it. It just seems that I have been working so hard to get here that I have wasted the last three years, and it's almost ... not fair? to suddenly have figured out how to live a life that I enjoy. That I want. I finally hit my stride, and haven't I been looking for it my entire life?
In a way, it's probably taken these last three years of work and discontent and disappointment and hope in order for me to be "ready" [3] for this. A friend of mine pointed out that I needed to go through all of the challenges of the last few years in order to to learn how to face Life and find some kind of balance. I have to stop thinking of it as a waste and start trying to see it as the learning process--but that's hard to do when I am finally here, and I can't remember what was so hard about it in the first place. Then again, I will have had a few months of this before I get started... maybe I needed it all to happen right now in order for me to be excited enough to carry it with me into the upcoming semester.
What I'm saying is, I just want to BE at the start of Orientation #1. Once I hit the ground running I won't have the time to look back, even if I wanted to--and I definitely don't want to.
---
[1] don't worry, I never actually counted on said plan, but it was, you know, there
[2] side effects may include: not knowing who you are anymore; wondering how long it's going to last before you fizzle out; random bouts of ridiculous excitement over the amount of productive I feel in a given day
[3] I'll probably be referencing this post from now until the day I die...
Wednesday, March 19
how i became a writer
For my entire life, I have wanted to be a Writer.
Naturally this means getting published, and even, maybe, (although I would never admit to such a wishful hope) producing a bestseller one day. I've been journaling and daydreaming and telling stories for as long as I can remember, and with nothing really to show for it, except a box of diaries, a computer folder dedicated to notes and story ideas, and one novella that I "completed" in high school and can't bear to re-read.
This week, I decided to take a page out of Castle's book, and take myself seriously. [1]
...anyway. In college, for my senior honors project, I decided I was going to start writing a book. At the end of the semester, I presented on it, I graduated, and under the pretense of "stepping away from it to let it develop in the back of my mind," I haven't opened the file since. [2] I had 41 pages, a lot of notes, and most importantly: inklings of an idea about what it means to Be A Writer.
In the last week of trying to Write More, these ideas have begun to resurface in the practical, hands-on kind of way, and I am eager to share [3] what I believe to be a decent foundational approach to the insurmountable task of Getting Started. [4]
1: the muse is a tease
Basically every creative person I know waits to write or draw or whatever until "the muse descends." Because when you've got some down time and you're just feeling really inspired and passionate, it's a great time to bust out the old moleskine and be clever. Except the problem is that we then tend do nothing until we get those surges of creative energy, and let's face it, the most common time to get them is either right as you're falling asleep, or when you're in the shower. [5] If you only wait for the muse, the number of times you are actually productive dwindles significantly, until you all but forget that you like to write in the first place. So don't wait. [6] You can't rely on the muse (that fickle minx) and you shouldn't. When I'm feeling inspired I'm also at the height of my perfectionism, and I hardly ever get anything done, because I'm too worried about losing the Perfect Moment to horrible writing. On the flip side, however, if you condition yourself to write every day, or every other day, for some concentrated amount of time, you are at least producing something. One and a half pages of crap is still better than nothing. Which brings me right to my next point, which is this:
2: editing and writing are not the same thing
I like to edit. In fact, I could spend all of my Designated Writing Time reviewing the last four pages, making them the best four pages you have ever read, and at the end of this time period (which really is never long enough, but it's what I have), I haven't actually written anything. This ... well, this defeats the purpose. Four pages of really brilliant writing is still only four pages, and doesn't get me a publishing deal. And yeah, it's awful to skim yesterday's work and not do anything about the fact that you hate it, and is that even what you want to say? And does this ramble? And is that a good character-driven bit of dialogue? But the thing is, it still doesn't get me another page. I'm training myself to leave it alone, to look forward to the time that I can red-pen the hell out of my ~*finished manuscript*~ and until then, I'm going to focus on actually producing said manuscript. Which means no editing.
3: there's nothing permanent about your decisions
is very closely related to #2, but I make it a separate heading because it has two main points I want to address. The first is for perfectionist, anxious creatives like me: it's okay to pick a direction for the sake of getting some writing done. Nothing is final until probably like, the final publishing date [7], and if you spend your whole 47 minutes of writing time dithering over character names or period settings, you still don't have more than four pages. Pick one, and go for it. If you hit a problem somewhere in the future, reassess as necessary. Names? Use one so ridiculous you won't become attached to it, and wait until it presents itself. Or better yer, spend some time outside of said designated writing time in order to brainstorm ideas and make notes for yourself.
The other side of this section is for perfectionist, anxious creatives like me: it's okay to change your mind about a past decision. Even one you were in love with. It's hard to let go of the things you loved (especially when they were just so good!) but more often than not, it's necessary. Mostly in terms of editing (because let's be honest, that's when you basically destroy everything you wrote and start over), but also in terms of just writing something down. You have to let the writing go in the direction it wants to go, and not get caught up in "but I was going to do it this way!" I only half believe in the writers' myth that your characters and story run away from you, but that half of me is pretty darn convinced. [8]
I'm pretty sure that Stephen King said something about "killing your darlings," [9] and that's ironic, because it brings me to my next thought:
4: there really is nothing new under the sun
I have a friend who doesn't even like to use the term "creative" because she believes that if God created the world and everything in it, all we are doing is copying it in a variety of ways. I think there's some truth to that. There are limitless scenarios and nuances, but the core ideas about humanity, relationships, and emotions are never going to change. Someone is always going to say "wow, way to rip off ___." Obviously there's a fine line here, and I'm not suggesting that 50 Pairs of Shoes is going to be a successful romance novel, but when it comes down to it, you can't spend all of your energy trying to create something completely new. Because it won't be. And anyway, the Greeks probably did it first.
5: writing is writing is writing
People keep telling me that the menial journaling and blogging that I do still counts as writing. I have a really hard time accepting this, because as previously stated I am an anxious perfectionist. But in the end, every little bit still counts toward the final goal. Everything you produce is proof that you can produce something, even that page of terrible poetry or the sketch of the family on the back of a napkin. Not everything you produce in the course of your life will be worthy of publishing or selling--but that doesn't make it meaningless. Do you write for the recognition of having written something, or do you write because writing is just...fun? Goodness knows I have to remind myself this. And goodness knows--writing isn't always fun. It's almost like a relationship: you have to dedicate the time and energy, even when your heart isn't in it, even when you wish it could be better. Writing isn't just an isolated magical Thing--it's a process, a habit, a way of life. It doesn't get better unless you do it, and you can't do it if all you care about is the end result.
Am I a writer? You know what, I think I am. I might not be a good one, I might be a little rusty--but I write, and I do it because I adore it. And I think that even for anxious perfectionists like me, that is enough.
---
[1] I use "decide" as a very loose term here, but that's a story for a different post. Also, look at all the clever jokes. ahaha.
[2] except for just now, to see how many pages it was. Sorry, Andy. It's lost but not forgotten.
[3] primarily with other struggling creatives out there, because I feel your pain, but with everyone too because what the heck
[4] I mean, for whatever that's worth, since I have approximately four pages of Brilliant New Story and have never been remotely published
[5] that last bit might just be me.
[6] I think this is essentially what Stephen King is saying in his infamous "butt glue" quote (you know, about making yourself sit down to write and then staying there until it happens). I quite enjoyed On Writing, but I also appreciate Peter M Ball's objections to it, because--well, because he gets me.
[7] clearly, I don't know the first thing about this process
[8] see also [4] because I will be the first to admit I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm guessing Being A Writer is sort of like Being In Love ... you just know.
[9] or he was quoting Faulkner? It doesn't matter enough to research this right now
Saturday, December 21
why i've been going crazy for the last few months
I can't decide if posting this is cheating, since I didn't write it for my blog in particular, but I guess it's no worse than posting a link to someone else's blog? So here it is: my grad school application essay. It feels a teeny bit pretentious to show it off, but I'm kind of proud of it, so...whatever.
Oh, and while I'm being self-conscious, I thought about taking out the school-specific details at the bottom, but then I didn't.
Anyway, enjoy.
---
When I assign the first paper in my future English 101 class, it will be on a current and controversial topic sure to elicit strong opinions from my students. This will encourage them to share their perspectives while giving me a snapshot of their writing abilities. But my favorite part of this assignment will come at the end of the semester, when I ask them to write a second paper on the same topic—except this time, they have to write it from the opposite point of view.
I can’t wait for the uproar when they learn that this is their final.
This assignment epitomizes what I find so glorious about writing. On a practical level, it requires a structured outline, thorough research, and the ability to present information in a logical progression. But this assignment is about more than just composing The Perfectly-Written Essay. It forces students to build an argument from scratch, and to learn how to use language to support an idea—even an idea they disagree with. In committing to the writing instead of only to the position, students learn the value of each and every word used to present a perspective. In using their writing to communicate to the world, students learn the power those words have, and the importance of having reasonable support for their ideas.
There comes a time in our lives when we have to figure out what we love and what we stand for. We have to account for ourselves, but in order to do so, we first have to understand ourselves. In college—right when we need it the most—we learn a beautifully structured method for thinking through an idea and supporting an opinion: expository writing. The classic essay format provides a way to identify the questions we are asking, and gives us the medium with which to answer them. But most of all, the essay calls for order in the form of a thesis. And when students are inspired to create and deliver a personal opinion by means of that thesis, they not only learn to write effectively, but also they also come to a better understanding of their own beliefs.
The unfortunate reality, however, is that college writing assignments are often a wasted effort. Working in the Concordia Writing Center for four years revealed to me that even the most diligent of students do not take their English Composition classes seriously simply because they are boring. The essay is established only as an arbitrary format for future homework assignments, and students walk away uninspired. And what a shame that is, because learning to write is the perfect platform for learning how to think critically. English Composition must not become obsolete, and I intend to be a part of its regeneration.
To do so, my idealism needs to be met with the reality of experience and the structure of a strong education. My attraction to the English department at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee lies in the department’s dedication to writers, evident in its cross-cultural, interdisciplinary studies as well as in the active support and involvement of the writing center. I look forward to the guidance of scholars with such diverse backgrounds and research interests, particularly Alice Gillam and her course “Teaching Writing as Process,” and Dennis Lynch’s experience as Director of Composition. I am also eager for the opportunity to hold a teaching assistantship, which is the ideal method of a hands-on education for my intended career as a professor of English. I hope to use my experience at UWM to reshape the way we write, and consequently, the way we think, one thesis at a time.
Today, the essay. Tomorrow, the world.
Oh, and while I'm being self-conscious, I thought about taking out the school-specific details at the bottom, but then I didn't.
Anyway, enjoy.
---
When I assign the first paper in my future English 101 class, it will be on a current and controversial topic sure to elicit strong opinions from my students. This will encourage them to share their perspectives while giving me a snapshot of their writing abilities. But my favorite part of this assignment will come at the end of the semester, when I ask them to write a second paper on the same topic—except this time, they have to write it from the opposite point of view.
I can’t wait for the uproar when they learn that this is their final.
This assignment epitomizes what I find so glorious about writing. On a practical level, it requires a structured outline, thorough research, and the ability to present information in a logical progression. But this assignment is about more than just composing The Perfectly-Written Essay. It forces students to build an argument from scratch, and to learn how to use language to support an idea—even an idea they disagree with. In committing to the writing instead of only to the position, students learn the value of each and every word used to present a perspective. In using their writing to communicate to the world, students learn the power those words have, and the importance of having reasonable support for their ideas.
There comes a time in our lives when we have to figure out what we love and what we stand for. We have to account for ourselves, but in order to do so, we first have to understand ourselves. In college—right when we need it the most—we learn a beautifully structured method for thinking through an idea and supporting an opinion: expository writing. The classic essay format provides a way to identify the questions we are asking, and gives us the medium with which to answer them. But most of all, the essay calls for order in the form of a thesis. And when students are inspired to create and deliver a personal opinion by means of that thesis, they not only learn to write effectively, but also they also come to a better understanding of their own beliefs.
The unfortunate reality, however, is that college writing assignments are often a wasted effort. Working in the Concordia Writing Center for four years revealed to me that even the most diligent of students do not take their English Composition classes seriously simply because they are boring. The essay is established only as an arbitrary format for future homework assignments, and students walk away uninspired. And what a shame that is, because learning to write is the perfect platform for learning how to think critically. English Composition must not become obsolete, and I intend to be a part of its regeneration.
To do so, my idealism needs to be met with the reality of experience and the structure of a strong education. My attraction to the English department at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee lies in the department’s dedication to writers, evident in its cross-cultural, interdisciplinary studies as well as in the active support and involvement of the writing center. I look forward to the guidance of scholars with such diverse backgrounds and research interests, particularly Alice Gillam and her course “Teaching Writing as Process,” and Dennis Lynch’s experience as Director of Composition. I am also eager for the opportunity to hold a teaching assistantship, which is the ideal method of a hands-on education for my intended career as a professor of English. I hope to use my experience at UWM to reshape the way we write, and consequently, the way we think, one thesis at a time.
Today, the essay. Tomorrow, the world.
Tuesday, December 3
the perils of a persuasive thesis
I'm good at selling myself.
Not like that. Shame on you.
As an English major, you practice over and over again picking an idea/conclusion and then finding ways to prove yourself right. That's the whole idea behind writing an essay: come up with a thesis, and use literature and/or various sources to support it. Demonstrate why you are arguing your point, and why other people should agree with you. Essentially, you're selling an idea. The more textual support your paper has, the better that idea sounds, and the more people will buy into it. You learn to see literature through certain lenses and to pick out quotes from other people in order to prove that you're not the only one with said idea.
And let's be realistic here: eventually, because this skill is practiced in terms of homework and grades, you learn to sell the idea long after you have stopped caring about it. I might have lost interest in Hamlet's hubris, but I have three more pages to write by tomorrow morning, so I'm going to keep at it. [1] There's a certain amount of shmoozing that goes on at this point, and you get really good at making broad connections and tying in loosely-relevant quotes. [2] It becomes part of what you do and how you think. I'm the kind of person now who hesitates to share an opinion without also giving at least two good reasons for having it, because I believe in writing strong and convincing theses. [3]
And sometimes I am really pleased about having this mentality. I am of the opinion that more people should have reasonable support for their perspectives, and that society would benefit from a little bit of research now and again. But the problem, I have found, is that I am too good at supporting an idea. So good, in fact, that I buy into my own arguments, simply because they are well-supported.
There's this recurring theme in my life: discovering a new and different job (that pays better, or has a "better" schedule). I pursue that thing by doing what I know, which is pitching myself as perfect for it because of XY&Z previous experiences or skills. [4] Resumes are more or less just a weird-looking works cited page. And while I'm trying to get there, I manage to convince myself that all the selling points about me are why I will love this job, and then one of two things happens:
And after all of this real-world adult nonsense, I'm asking myself the same question that keeps coming back to me: why aren't I doing this already?
I keep looking for ways to change my situation, and I keep trying to grab hold of options simply because they are there. I keep running away from what is right in front of me, because it's not "good enough." The conditions aren't perfect, and I have to make them perfect before I can go on. My mom calls this "if/then" thinking, and it's not really a productive way to live, because you spend your whole life waiting for something to work the way you think it should in order to do something that you want.
I don't love working for The Corporation. It's made me (more) cynical, if nothing else, and it's humbling to go to work every day and not have ways to express my intellect, my passion for thinking and relationships, my faith. And while it's not a terrible paycheck, it's not a good one, and we have bills to pay.
But for the present, it actually is offering me what I want: The freedom to come home and pursue my own goals. I have a flexible schedule, no homework, no problems to take home. My job even has benefits and vacation hours. So, I ask myself yet again, what's the problem? There's no glory, no intellectual high? Does there have to be? Is it not meaningful in the sense that I have a job at all? Am I in danger of wandering from my career path?
It's not that I can't pursue bigger or better options. But Real Jobs tend to want you for the semi-long term, and if I want to go to grad school, which starts in less than a year, the timing doesn't look so great. And until I know if/where I get accepted, I can't really make any plans. Once applications are submitted, I can stop stressing about grad school and start using my free time to--you guessed it--write more.
So new game plan? Keep on keepin' on. Reassess when I have an answer about school. Stop worrying and start making the most of what I actually have. And most of all, stop looking for answers in the wrong places, [7] starting with not buying in to my own sales pitch about me.
"I know he can get the job, Harry, but can he do the job?" [8]
And more importantly, should I?
--
[1] You also learn, eventually, to sell the idea by skimming the material for quotes instead of actually reading it. Not, of course, that I would ever have done this.
[2] I always wondered if professors just couldn't see through my bullshit, because I would get good grades on these papers. I'm beginning to think, however, that maybe they were grading my ability to bullshit in the first place.
[3] When it comes to serious stuff, anyway. In regular life I don't usually think about the things that come out of my mouth O_o
[4] I'm especially a fan of tying in stage management as great life experience for everything, which is ironic because I've never even done it in an actual professional capacity.
[5] Granted, the person asking was using a marketing tactic herself, but that's neither here nor there.
[6] See [3]
[7] If this were a different blog post, I would go on to explain that the answer is trust in God's design and knowing that I am loved and forgiven. And all of these things are true, but this wasn't the angle I was taking, because all of these things are already assumed and in place. At least,they are in my head.
[8] from Joe Versus the Volcano
Not like that. Shame on you.
As an English major, you practice over and over again picking an idea/conclusion and then finding ways to prove yourself right. That's the whole idea behind writing an essay: come up with a thesis, and use literature and/or various sources to support it. Demonstrate why you are arguing your point, and why other people should agree with you. Essentially, you're selling an idea. The more textual support your paper has, the better that idea sounds, and the more people will buy into it. You learn to see literature through certain lenses and to pick out quotes from other people in order to prove that you're not the only one with said idea.
And let's be realistic here: eventually, because this skill is practiced in terms of homework and grades, you learn to sell the idea long after you have stopped caring about it. I might have lost interest in Hamlet's hubris, but I have three more pages to write by tomorrow morning, so I'm going to keep at it. [1] There's a certain amount of shmoozing that goes on at this point, and you get really good at making broad connections and tying in loosely-relevant quotes. [2] It becomes part of what you do and how you think. I'm the kind of person now who hesitates to share an opinion without also giving at least two good reasons for having it, because I believe in writing strong and convincing theses. [3]
And sometimes I am really pleased about having this mentality. I am of the opinion that more people should have reasonable support for their perspectives, and that society would benefit from a little bit of research now and again. But the problem, I have found, is that I am too good at supporting an idea. So good, in fact, that I buy into my own arguments, simply because they are well-supported.
There's this recurring theme in my life: discovering a new and different job (that pays better, or has a "better" schedule). I pursue that thing by doing what I know, which is pitching myself as perfect for it because of XY&Z previous experiences or skills. [4] Resumes are more or less just a weird-looking works cited page. And while I'm trying to get there, I manage to convince myself that all the selling points about me are why I will love this job, and then one of two things happens:
- I don't get the job, and I feel all the feelings of rejection, dejection, depression, existentialism, frustration, etc, OR
- I do get the job, and I charge into it headlong, and at some point a few months down the road I realize that while I am completely capable of doing it, I don't love it like I thought I would. It doesn't change me or edify me in the ways that I had hoped. Plus, so far, these instances have involved work in addition to The Corporation, so while I (sometimes) make a little more money I also have less time to be Piera-y, which ends up making me crazier than ever.
And after all of this real-world adult nonsense, I'm asking myself the same question that keeps coming back to me: why aren't I doing this already?
I keep looking for ways to change my situation, and I keep trying to grab hold of options simply because they are there. I keep running away from what is right in front of me, because it's not "good enough." The conditions aren't perfect, and I have to make them perfect before I can go on. My mom calls this "if/then" thinking, and it's not really a productive way to live, because you spend your whole life waiting for something to work the way you think it should in order to do something that you want.
I don't love working for The Corporation. It's made me (more) cynical, if nothing else, and it's humbling to go to work every day and not have ways to express my intellect, my passion for thinking and relationships, my faith. And while it's not a terrible paycheck, it's not a good one, and we have bills to pay.
But for the present, it actually is offering me what I want: The freedom to come home and pursue my own goals. I have a flexible schedule, no homework, no problems to take home. My job even has benefits and vacation hours. So, I ask myself yet again, what's the problem? There's no glory, no intellectual high? Does there have to be? Is it not meaningful in the sense that I have a job at all? Am I in danger of wandering from my career path?
It's not that I can't pursue bigger or better options. But Real Jobs tend to want you for the semi-long term, and if I want to go to grad school, which starts in less than a year, the timing doesn't look so great. And until I know if/where I get accepted, I can't really make any plans. Once applications are submitted, I can stop stressing about grad school and start using my free time to--you guessed it--write more.
So new game plan? Keep on keepin' on. Reassess when I have an answer about school. Stop worrying and start making the most of what I actually have. And most of all, stop looking for answers in the wrong places, [7] starting with not buying in to my own sales pitch about me.
"I know he can get the job, Harry, but can he do the job?" [8]
And more importantly, should I?
--
[1] You also learn, eventually, to sell the idea by skimming the material for quotes instead of actually reading it. Not, of course, that I would ever have done this.
[2] I always wondered if professors just couldn't see through my bullshit, because I would get good grades on these papers. I'm beginning to think, however, that maybe they were grading my ability to bullshit in the first place.
[3] When it comes to serious stuff, anyway. In regular life I don't usually think about the things that come out of my mouth O_o
[4] I'm especially a fan of tying in stage management as great life experience for everything, which is ironic because I've never even done it in an actual professional capacity.
[5] Granted, the person asking was using a marketing tactic herself, but that's neither here nor there.
[6] See [3]
[7] If this were a different blog post, I would go on to explain that the answer is trust in God's design and knowing that I am loved and forgiven. And all of these things are true, but this wasn't the angle I was taking, because all of these things are already assumed and in place. At least,they are in my head.
[8] from Joe Versus the Volcano
Sunday, November 17
teleios and the time vortex: how Doctor Who shaped my faith
Part One: The Time Vortex
"People don't understand time. It's not what you think it is." --the DoctorWhen I fell in love with this man, I didn't expect it to shape so much of the way that I thought about life, and certainly not the way I thought about God or His presence in my life.
When you start traveling with the Doctor, you spend a lot of time being thoroughly confused. You experience it episode by episode, and for a lot of it, you really aren't sure what is going on. Who is this guy, and what is that telephone box thing (and why does it say "police"?) and why is he telling that blonde girl to run!, or saying "I'm so so sorry" to those aliens? [1] And once you kind of get the premise, you then have to wrap your mind around the concept of Time Travel, and how you can be in the past-but-actually-the-present, and watch the world exploding in the very-distant-future but still call your mom in 2005, and the whole thing is more than a little complicated. But slowly, the more you watch and the less you try to understand, the easier it becomes not only to follow the story, but also to comprehend the concepts and theories behind it. Time travel--at least in Doctor Who lore--doesn't confuse me as much as it did, because I sat back, shut up, and let it happen. And surprisingly, my brain eventually caught up with the rest of me. [2]
I am sure you're wondering what any of this has to do with God. So let me put Doctor Who on hold and catch you up to where I am.
Growing up, I was taught that God, who is omnipotent (all-powerful) and omniscient (all-knowing), has a plan for my life. He knows how many hairs I have on my head [3] and what I will be when I grow up (if that ever, you know, happens). Verses like Jeremiah 29:11 [4] are ingrained in my understanding of God: He has a plan for me, and that means He's taking care of me no matter what.
Alongside accepting that God Has A Plan, however, I also had the ingrained knowledge that we were given free will, and the ability to choose between good and evil. The fact that he gave us options [5] proves that we are allowed to think for ourselves. Being Lutheran meant that my salvation was not dependent on my choices [6], but mostly, in the practical sense, it just meant that that I had the freedom to make my own decisions.
But then high school happened, and the topic of free will vs predestination came into play. This was the first time I noticed the disparity between the two concepts: if God has a plan for me, does that mean I don't get a choice in what I do? Am I just following the script and having delusions of decision-making? But if I have free will, then how does it make sense that God has a plan for me? Unless God knows what I am going to decide (because omniscience) and then creates his plan around my decisions... but that would imply that it's not God's plan but rather my own. And most of all: if I do have free will, and God does have a plan, then what happens if I make the free-will decision to do something that's NOT in the plan? Won't that screw me over? Do I just keep muddling through, hoping that all my following decisions are the right ones, until I can get back on track? ...what happens if I don't ever get back on track?
It's all very confusing. And really stressful if you already have a hard time making decisions in the first place.
What college do I go to. What do I major in. Should I break up with my boyfriend. Should I go out with this other guy. What classes do I take next semester, and what classes do I give up in order to take them. The questions are endless, and it was through many lengthy discussions with my friend Kim that I (we) finally arrived at the conclusion/philosophy "you can't lose." It was based primarily on Romans 8:37-39 [7], and the idea that no matter what happens in life--which would logically include the decisions we make--God will still love us. We can't screw up past what He can fix. Obviously we shouldn't be going off and doing whatever we want, because that's dangerous and stupid, but in the end, even if we make mistakes, He's still got our back, and we still win (ie, have eternal salvation), no matter what.
How incredibly comforting. Trusting in this got me through most of college, because I was more than a conqueror, and God was looking out for me. The reassurance of God's unconditional love gave me a certain amount of peace--but it didn't answer my questions about His Plan. Even if my life happens according to God's will (which is good), I am still a puppet, and I don't want that. Even if I have the freedom to make my own decisions (which seems to be the case), I am at risk of screwing something up, and I don't want that either. Even if I am never going to "lose," none of this explains to me how it is possible. [8]
The thing is, predestination and free will have conflicting agendas. When one side says "you live your life according to God's will" and the other says "you have the freedom to make your own choices," there's basically no way for them to be resolved. In the timeline of our lives, there simply isn't room for both to be possible. We simultaneously want and reject both perspectives, but either way, we can't comprehend a way for the two theories to exist side by side. From where I am standing, I can only see the path of where I have been, and not the unknown of the future, and therefore, neither option seems plausible. Or even very desirable.
Enter the Doctor. [9] Specifically into the life of Sally Sparrow, who has no idea what's going on, and is thoroughly confused about how all the bizarre stuff that keeps happening to her is somehow connected. And while Sally is working out the complicated concept of Time Travel, Piera is flipping out because the Doctor just answered all of her questions in about 15 seconds.
"People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly... timey-wimey... stuff." [10]We--people, humans, non Time Lords--can only see the "strict progression of cause to effect." But what if, for example, we could step outside of our timeline and look at everything as a whole: the past, the present, and the future? Rose Tyler looked into the time vortex, and saw all of time and space--she took the words "bad wolf" and put them along her own timeline, leading herself to the very moment in which she looked into the time vortex and saw all of time and space. In that moment, she sees "everything. All that is, all that was, all that ever could be." She even knows that "everything must come to dust." [11]
… this … sounds familiar. Like someone else has said it before, maybe, you know, in Genesis? [12] Or Revelation? [13]
The human thought process can't fully comprehend that freedom of will can exist alongside an intelligent, active design--but that's because we're not GOD. Rose looked into the time vortex, and it nearly killed her. But the Doctor sees everything, all the time. He can step into it, and He can see it from the outside. [14] Our freedom to make decisions can exist alongside God's Plan, because we are on the inside, making decisions for the here and now. Those decisions are based on only what we know, which is basically comprised of what we have experienced in the past and what we can attempt to predict of the near future. And because those decisions are still within our own timeline, and we are not in control of it. But we don't have to be, because God is. And God is outside of time.
Take a minute to actually think about that.
God
is outside
of time.
God can have a Plan because He exists outside of our comprehension of how The Plan should work out. We may be trapped within the "time vortex" of cause-to-effect, but he sees the entire journey, start to finish, from outside of it. He also has the power (because omnipotence, plus being its Creator) to add to it, to allow or prevent obstacles, to shape our paths in the direction He wants us to go. We can't change the past and we can't predict the future, so we just hold on to the right now and hope it will all work out.
And the thing is--it will. Because God has a Plan, remember? A Plan for our welfare and not for evil; a Plan for hope and a future. A Plan that comes out of creating us, knowing us, loving us. At some point (and somewhat reluctantly, I might add), I became the obnoxious friend who always tells you that "everything happens for a reason." And at some later point (probably after watching "Blink"), I realized that I completely believe that to be true. Everything, both the good and the bad, has a place in The Big Picture of Things, and somehow, whether we realize it or not, it's all connected. God has created it, and is actively involved in it. He took the time to scatter "bad wolf" here and there in my life, in order to lead me to where I am right now, and in order to direct me toward my future. And I am looking forward to that future, because I am positive that it will be fanTAStic. [15]
---
[1] ...and how does he manage to be so attractive while he does it??
[2] Proof, by the way, that I am actually capable of doing this. Just not so great at doing it naturally.
[3] Luke 12:7 -- Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.
[4] For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.
[5] Genesis 2:15-17 -- The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.
[6] Ephesians 2:8-9 -- For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
[7] No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
[8] Does it really matter if I understand it? Okay, no. Not really. But I like having answers, and I don't like going along with a concept if I don't really get it. Hence, this entire post.
[9] And I am here issuing a massive spoiler alert -- although to be honest, if you haven't seen any of Doctor Who I'm not sure how much of this will make sense anyway.
[10] Doctor Who - "Blink" (series 3, episode 10) - btw that's also where the quote at the top is from. It just made for a better intro without the footnote ;)
[11] Doctor Who - "The Parting of the Ways" (series 1, episode 13)
[12] Genesis 3:19c -- ...for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
[13] Revelation 1:8 -- "I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, "who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty."
[14] For the record, I am NOT trying to paint the Doctor as a representation of the one true God. There are parallels in the time vortex aspect, but the entities themselves are absolutely not the same. Just so we're clear.
[15] It's a 9th-Doctor-ism, in case you didn't read it in a Christopher Eccleston voice.
Wednesday, August 7
I'm writing a book called "How to Make Enemies" ... let me know if you want an autographed copy
But therein, kids, lies the problem. The pursuit of Justice and Equality is never actually a reasonable one. It's always skewed by someone's agenda, someone's pride, or someone's real or imagined (but mostly imagined) suffering. It's far nobler to fight for a cause than to just look out for ourselves, but when we fight for a generalized cause, we tend to lose sight of ... well, reason. Intelligent, semi-objective, philosophical thought. All of it, out the window, because it's the idea that counts (right?), and not the specifics. [1]
So what got me so riled up that I decided to step out of my cave and make some enemies? Two things that will always provoke in me some ~~feelings: Doctor Who and Feminism.
I've been sitting on this rant since I read this article. Today, I read this one. And I'm already mad at my boss, so it's easy to sort of channel that anger into an I-don't-care-I'm-gonna-say-it-anyway-this-is-my-gorram-blog kind of post. You have been warned. It's not too late to turn back.
[Also, I have issued a Spoiler Alert for the rest of the post.]
Ladies and gentlemen (have you ever noticed that this very common phrase begins with "ladies"? Interesting.), I find this whole "the Doctor should be a woman!" rant to be quite disheartening. Maybe if the arguments were, I don't know, solid, I could get behind them. But when the premise of the argument is made with unsupported claims, they effectively make the people arguing them (and thus, the cause as a whole) look idiotic. (please see [1] again because it applies here too)
Kissell and Helmuth are opposed to having "yet another white British dude" [*] playing the Doctor for, as far as I can tell, two reasons:
a) the Doctor has thus far always played by British white guys, and clearly that's the sexist choice to portray men superior to women, and
b) because the show/Moffat portrays women as "sad and broken." [**]
...wait, what? Sad and broken? Have you even watched the show before, Elizabeth Lopatto?! Let's examine her argument for just a minute: "I'm fine with the next Doctor being a dude, as long as we get more interesting women and a more emotionally competent writer." [**]
I see two glaring problems with this sentence alone. The first is "more interesting women," and the second is "a more emotionally competent writer."
Lady, do you realize that the reason this show is so popular is the overwhelming amount of emotional connection viewers have with the characters and the story? "The Girl in the Fireplace" was the reason many of us fell in love with the Doctor in the first place, because of how much he cared about Reinette and how devastated he was that she died before he came back for her, even though he barely knew her. "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead," once you understand why, have one of the more tragic plot elements I've ever seen, and the kicker is that you don't even realize how tragic until well into season 6 (I'm not telling you if you don't know). "Amy's Choice" presents the question everyone is asking--Rory or the Doctor?--in a way that makes you sit on the edge of your seat and wonder which Amy will choose, because you sure as hell can't decide for yourself. I don't think the problem is that he isn't "emotionally competent." If it's just that you don't like the way he plays with your emotion, then don't watch the show.
And then--more interesting women? Because Clara, who jumped into the Doctor's entire timeline and rescued him without him even realizing it, and Rose, who absorbed the time vortex to defeat the Daleks, and Martha, who traveled the world to save the Doctor, while being hunted by tiny childlike weapon-aliens, aren't interesting enough? And how could I forget "abuse victim River Song, whose lives are stolen from her by the man she loves, for whom she later goes to jail for a crime she didn't commit; although placeholder/perfume model Amy Pond should get special mention for blandness." Yep, that's right, abuse victim River Song, who is so wounded and broken, except for the part where she stares down a Dalek until it cries for mercy, and how she has the Doctor wrapped around her finger and he doesn't even realize it. Because Amy Pond is a bland placeholder--bland?! really?? you couldn't find any other word? What about Donna, who saved the Doctor and the world and created the Doctor-Donna, and can't even remember it? If that's not "interesting" then I can't help you, Elizabeth. And if you don't like your characters to be "sad and broken" then stick to picture books, because I can think of no great work of literature that doesn't feature someone who isn't sad or broken in some way.
Honestly, it's not the cry for a female Doctor that bothers me. In fact, I think that would be quite the road to go down. From a literary perspective, or a philosophical one, or even from a "hey let's just mix things up!" perspective, it would be very cool if the Doctor was a woman. I'm just honestly so offended at the weak and ridiculous arguments being made for it to happen. It's evident that Laura Helmuth [**] isn't overly familiar with the show, based on the fact that she slips up and says "an actor playing Doctor Who" instead of "an actor playing the Doctor."
Of course, she also refers to Tim Minchin as a "dreamboat." [**] Do you see how her credibility might be plummeting?
Then again, why would Moffat make it clear that there could be a woman Doctor if he wasn't going to create one? [7] And what if the Doctor WAS played by a woman? I mean, "having a woman as the smartest, bravest person in the universe, being able to fix any problem, save the world with her wits, a magical vehicle, and boundless courage--who wouldn't want to watch that show?" [*] Sure, I would love to watch that show. It would be awesome. [8] But both Kissell and Helmuth make the observation that Moffat would obviously screw up the female Doctor, since "during the regeneration of Mels into River Song, after all, we were treated to such Moffaty gems as her 'focusing on a dress size,' weighing herself, and going shopping." [*] Because women don't do that? Ever? Wouldn't you, if you weren't a member of the insidious Patriarchy [9] and you transformed into a different body? I think (surprisingly!) Helmuth actually gets closer with her observation that "if Moffat writes us a female Twelve, I imagine she'll be just as sad and broken as the other women he's written." [**] That I actually agree with. And then inevitably, someone would complain that the Doctor was under too much pressure, and she never got the thanks she deserved. Someone else would argue that she was portrayed as too giving, too self-sacrificing, and her goodwill was being abused. Her maternal instinct would be subject to question--why does the fact that she's female mean that she has to take care of everyone? Is that like her role, just because she's a woman? Yet another indignant viewer would be upset that the Doctor's hard decisions made her look like the badguy, and how come she can't be better at saving everyone? Unless the argument is that a female Doctor would find a way to save the world without any casualties. In which case, I don't want to watch that show, because part of the beauty of it is the raw, realistic (well, sorta) element of "you can't win all the battles all the time." The Doctor has to make the hard decisions, and I don't think that should ever change.
I just ... I can't figure out what you want, Feminist Cause. I think it's power for all women, and to ensure that women are not portrayed in pop culture as inferior to men, but it doesn't seem like you're actually evaluating the story, or the characters' relationships, or the philosophy of the Doctor himself. The arguments you are making are sort of trickling through to sound like "I want a woman Doctor because there aren't enough women who do badass things in this show" (false) "and how come it's always weird rando British guys that no one has actually heard of until they were Doctors?" [10] In fact, you're so busy being upset about the fact that the title character is a man, that you're completely missing all the fantastic stuff women in this show are doing. And yeah, the characters are broken. Yeah, people get hurt, and the Doctor is a little bit of an island. But the Doctor doesn't change, not at his core, and we're used to him. It's the women of the show who keep it running, keep it interesting. It sounds like you want someone incapable of being wounded, someone with no sense of fashion, someone who is fearless and flawless and independent and perfect. But I think you would hate her twice as much as you hate that Twelve is a male Doctor.
But then again, I'm on my soapbox. Maybe I'm just not seeing reason.
---
[*] from "The Depressing, Disappointing Maleness of Doctor Who's New Time Lord" (The Atlantic)
[**] from "The Next Doctor Should Be a Woman. You Should Care Even if You Don't Watch Doctor Who" (Slate.com)
[1] This applies to everything, including, mind you, a lot of Christian theology, which will sacrifice actual doctrine in order to support a cause like "evangelism" or "youth ministry." This is an entirely different rant but it was worth noting.
[2] Never mind that basically every woman I know wants to be a mystery ...
[3] Why do both of these authors refer to men as "dudes"? Are they trying to be insensitive to men in order to dole out some justice? Or something?
[4] He took that quote from some other blog, but if you read the article you can find it for yourself. This ain't no research paper, deal with it.
[5] Or that his "favorite doctor, Tennant," is also "another white guy." Just sayin.
[6] Merriam-Webster's first definition is "one that accompanies another: comrade, associate; also: one that keeps company with another."
[7] Maybe because it's an interesting fact for the Doctor Who trivia bank, like the fact that he has children. Or maybe because Moffat is going to change the Doctor into a woman or something, and wouldn't that cause an uproar (and make a lot of people feel really stupid).
[8] Arguably, I watch it every time I sit down to watch Doctor Who. But I think I must be watching a different show than everyone else ...
[9] That's HIS capitalization, by the way, and he didn't capitalize any of the terms he uses to refer to women. Someone explain this to me.
[10] Really, I just wanted to use the word "rando" because it makes me giggle.
So what got me so riled up that I decided to step out of my cave and make some enemies? Two things that will always provoke in me some ~~feelings: Doctor Who and Feminism.
I've been sitting on this rant since I read this article. Today, I read this one. And I'm already mad at my boss, so it's easy to sort of channel that anger into an I-don't-care-I'm-gonna-say-it-anyway-this-is-my-gorram-blog kind of post. You have been warned. It's not too late to turn back.
[Also, I have issued a Spoiler Alert for the rest of the post.]
Ladies and gentlemen (have you ever noticed that this very common phrase begins with "ladies"? Interesting.), I find this whole "the Doctor should be a woman!" rant to be quite disheartening. Maybe if the arguments were, I don't know, solid, I could get behind them. But when the premise of the argument is made with unsupported claims, they effectively make the people arguing them (and thus, the cause as a whole) look idiotic. (please see [1] again because it applies here too)
Kissell and Helmuth are opposed to having "yet another white British dude" [*] playing the Doctor for, as far as I can tell, two reasons:
a) the Doctor has thus far always played by British white guys, and clearly that's the sexist choice to portray men superior to women, and
b) because the show/Moffat portrays women as "sad and broken." [**]
...wait, what? Sad and broken? Have you even watched the show before, Elizabeth Lopatto?! Let's examine her argument for just a minute: "I'm fine with the next Doctor being a dude, as long as we get more interesting women and a more emotionally competent writer." [**]
I see two glaring problems with this sentence alone. The first is "more interesting women," and the second is "a more emotionally competent writer."
And then--more interesting women? Because Clara, who jumped into the Doctor's entire timeline and rescued him without him even realizing it, and Rose, who absorbed the time vortex to defeat the Daleks, and Martha, who traveled the world to save the Doctor, while being hunted by tiny childlike weapon-aliens, aren't interesting enough? And how could I forget "abuse victim River Song, whose lives are stolen from her by the man she loves, for whom she later goes to jail for a crime she didn't commit; although placeholder/perfume model Amy Pond should get special mention for blandness." Yep, that's right, abuse victim River Song, who is so wounded and broken, except for the part where she stares down a Dalek until it cries for mercy, and how she has the Doctor wrapped around her finger and he doesn't even realize it. Because Amy Pond is a bland placeholder--bland?! really?? you couldn't find any other word? What about Donna, who saved the Doctor and the world and created the Doctor-Donna, and can't even remember it? If that's not "interesting" then I can't help you, Elizabeth. And if you don't like your characters to be "sad and broken" then stick to picture books, because I can think of no great work of literature that doesn't feature someone who isn't sad or broken in some way.
Honestly, it's not the cry for a female Doctor that bothers me. In fact, I think that would be quite the road to go down. From a literary perspective, or a philosophical one, or even from a "hey let's just mix things up!" perspective, it would be very cool if the Doctor was a woman. I'm just honestly so offended at the weak and ridiculous arguments being made for it to happen. It's evident that Laura Helmuth [**] isn't overly familiar with the show, based on the fact that she slips up and says "an actor playing Doctor Who" instead of "an actor playing the Doctor."
Of course, she also refers to Tim Minchin as a "dreamboat." [**] Do you see how her credibility might be plummeting?
Ted B. Kissell [*] actually started to form an argument that might have made sense; one of the most compelling statements I've heard on the subject is his comment on "Moffat's handling of his female leads," which was that "River Song, Amy Pond, Clara Oswald--all of them were mysteries for the Doctor to solve, instead of simply people."
You know what, that's a fair point. [2] This one makes me think a little: does the Doctor just view his companions as mysteries to solve? I can see the argument about those three companions. But then, the Doctor also sort of treats everything as a mystery to solve--and what about Craig in "The Lodger"? He's a "dude" [3], plus, the only reason the Doctor moved in with him was the mystery on the second floor. So if we're arguing that the Doctor doesn't treat people as people, then we have to include...everyone. And that's an entirely different topic than the one at hand.
The other big point Kissell argues is the "structurally sexist" [4] element: "i.e., the power imbalance inherent in the relationship between the male Doctor and his usually female companion." Let us keep in mind that Ted Kissell is upset about the fact that "the insidious cultural marinade known as The Patriarchy has penetrated your brain," so no one let on to him that he's a part of it. [5] Seriously though--the superiority argument is confusing to me. The fact that the Doctor has companions doesn't really seem establish a hierarchy. The term "companion" is an accurate description, and I fail to see how it's insulting. [6] The "inherent" distinction is between Time Lords and humans, but that seems appropriate, doesn't it? Besides, the Doctor needs a companion. He goes a little crazy (and a little miserable) without one. And haven't we just gone over the part where various companions save the Doctor, the world, the universe, reality, etc? These are the kinds of arguments that strike me as really trying to create a problem. Companions are only "inferior" if you choose to perceive them as such, but I don't think that perception is necessarily supported by the actual plotlines, given the textual (episodial?) evidence that the companions are friends, traveling partners, and often heroes.You know what, that's a fair point. [2] This one makes me think a little: does the Doctor just view his companions as mysteries to solve? I can see the argument about those three companions. But then, the Doctor also sort of treats everything as a mystery to solve--and what about Craig in "The Lodger"? He's a "dude" [3], plus, the only reason the Doctor moved in with him was the mystery on the second floor. So if we're arguing that the Doctor doesn't treat people as people, then we have to include...everyone. And that's an entirely different topic than the one at hand.
Then again, why would Moffat make it clear that there could be a woman Doctor if he wasn't going to create one? [7] And what if the Doctor WAS played by a woman? I mean, "having a woman as the smartest, bravest person in the universe, being able to fix any problem, save the world with her wits, a magical vehicle, and boundless courage--who wouldn't want to watch that show?" [*] Sure, I would love to watch that show. It would be awesome. [8] But both Kissell and Helmuth make the observation that Moffat would obviously screw up the female Doctor, since "during the regeneration of Mels into River Song, after all, we were treated to such Moffaty gems as her 'focusing on a dress size,' weighing herself, and going shopping." [*] Because women don't do that? Ever? Wouldn't you, if you weren't a member of the insidious Patriarchy [9] and you transformed into a different body? I think (surprisingly!) Helmuth actually gets closer with her observation that "if Moffat writes us a female Twelve, I imagine she'll be just as sad and broken as the other women he's written." [**] That I actually agree with. And then inevitably, someone would complain that the Doctor was under too much pressure, and she never got the thanks she deserved. Someone else would argue that she was portrayed as too giving, too self-sacrificing, and her goodwill was being abused. Her maternal instinct would be subject to question--why does the fact that she's female mean that she has to take care of everyone? Is that like her role, just because she's a woman? Yet another indignant viewer would be upset that the Doctor's hard decisions made her look like the badguy, and how come she can't be better at saving everyone? Unless the argument is that a female Doctor would find a way to save the world without any casualties. In which case, I don't want to watch that show, because part of the beauty of it is the raw, realistic (well, sorta) element of "you can't win all the battles all the time." The Doctor has to make the hard decisions, and I don't think that should ever change.
I just ... I can't figure out what you want, Feminist Cause. I think it's power for all women, and to ensure that women are not portrayed in pop culture as inferior to men, but it doesn't seem like you're actually evaluating the story, or the characters' relationships, or the philosophy of the Doctor himself. The arguments you are making are sort of trickling through to sound like "I want a woman Doctor because there aren't enough women who do badass things in this show" (false) "and how come it's always weird rando British guys that no one has actually heard of until they were Doctors?" [10] In fact, you're so busy being upset about the fact that the title character is a man, that you're completely missing all the fantastic stuff women in this show are doing. And yeah, the characters are broken. Yeah, people get hurt, and the Doctor is a little bit of an island. But the Doctor doesn't change, not at his core, and we're used to him. It's the women of the show who keep it running, keep it interesting. It sounds like you want someone incapable of being wounded, someone with no sense of fashion, someone who is fearless and flawless and independent and perfect. But I think you would hate her twice as much as you hate that Twelve is a male Doctor.
But then again, I'm on my soapbox. Maybe I'm just not seeing reason.
---
[*] from "The Depressing, Disappointing Maleness of Doctor Who's New Time Lord" (The Atlantic)
[**] from "The Next Doctor Should Be a Woman. You Should Care Even if You Don't Watch Doctor Who" (Slate.com)
[1] This applies to everything, including, mind you, a lot of Christian theology, which will sacrifice actual doctrine in order to support a cause like "evangelism" or "youth ministry." This is an entirely different rant but it was worth noting.
[2] Never mind that basically every woman I know wants to be a mystery ...
[3] Why do both of these authors refer to men as "dudes"? Are they trying to be insensitive to men in order to dole out some justice? Or something?
[4] He took that quote from some other blog, but if you read the article you can find it for yourself. This ain't no research paper, deal with it.
[5] Or that his "favorite doctor, Tennant," is also "another white guy." Just sayin.
[6] Merriam-Webster's first definition is "one that accompanies another: comrade, associate; also: one that keeps company with another."
[7] Maybe because it's an interesting fact for the Doctor Who trivia bank, like the fact that he has children. Or maybe because Moffat is going to change the Doctor into a woman or something, and wouldn't that cause an uproar (and make a lot of people feel really stupid).
[8] Arguably, I watch it every time I sit down to watch Doctor Who. But I think I must be watching a different show than everyone else ...
[9] That's HIS capitalization, by the way, and he didn't capitalize any of the terms he uses to refer to women. Someone explain this to me.
[10] Really, I just wanted to use the word "rando" because it makes me giggle.
Tuesday, May 28
get a grip
I am, for the most part, of the opinion that people grow in little spurts, which occur as a result of an external cause (which is usually a "bad" experience, but I find that I learn the most through these in particular). I myself can look back and identify large changes and how they correlate to my chronological life: parents' divorce, starting college, breakup, breakup, etc. To be honest, while I usually dislike the event itself, in periods of stasis I find myself looking forward to these occurrences. That's why I enjoy school so much -- I am constantly finding things to think about, and these thoughts act as little catalysts for development. And I crave this development. Only when I am actively learning, academically or otherwise, do I feel that I am exercising the truest and best parts of my brain and my personality. The thrill of processing new ideas and information carries me through until I get the next hit, and I can sail through life high on inspiration and creativity.
Which is why, ultimately, I was so very upset about not getting into grad school. My reaction probably came across as pretty overdramatic, since it's not unusual not to be accepted the first time you apply places, and it's not like I can't apply again. But for me, it was more than just a delay in reaching my career. Grad school was going to give me another few years of intellectual high, and probably/hopefully give me that one last boost into "adulthood" that I've been waiting for. I couldn't tell you what it is that I'm going to learn or do that will make that happen, but I was (am?) pretty positive that a step or two remains between current Piera and useful-member-of-society-Piera. And grad school felt like my opportunity to reach that change, because it was moving on from barista-ing. I enjoy my job, but once the new-job thrill died down, Starbucks was just ... Starbucks. In some ways I'm jealous of the people who have found their calling in, as we say, "the industry." There's something to be said for contributing in tasty little ways to people's lives, and going home at the end of the day feeling fulfilled. But what I know is that it isn't MY calling, and it'll always make me restless and hungry for something more. Working there has given me plenty of time to observe society, but no way to respond to it. I have learned a lot of useful skills, but now I am just ... re-using those skills, and I don't know where or how to find new ones. I even put off getting promoted because I was positive that I would be moving on, and I didn't want to waste anyone's time by training me.
Anyway, as we all know, God usually has something in mind that is very different from what we expect. This time around, it was not going to grad school in the fall of 2013. And I could not for the life of me figure out WHY--what else was there to learn about this job? How else can I change, besides becoming a shift supervisor (which will only provide a quick intellectual buzz and then fade back into the status quo)? How am I supposed to go to this job every damn day and not worry that this is all I am good for?
Gradually, I figured it out. It took getting a second job, working on two shows (in two capacities), and going basically nonstop with barely enough time to sleep and/or shower for a couple of months before I did, but here I am. Realizing (again.) that some of the stuff my mom used to tell me is actually, in fact, great wisdom.
In high school, and when I was home from college, I would have this problem where I would over-commit. I had friends in different circles, and I hated to tell someone I couldn't do anything because I already had plans with someone else, because it felt like I was picking a favorite. So I would agree to all of it, and drive all over everywhere so I could make it work. [1] And every so often, it would really get to me, and I would be sick of everyone and just want some time for myself--which of course I realized too late, since I was supposed to be going somewhere and I didn't want to let anyone down by backing out. In these moments, my mom would tell me that I needed to stop letting everyone else dictate the course of my life. I, of course, would be furious that she thought I was such a pushover.
Well kids, here I am, nearly 25 years old and realizing how much of a pushover I am. Less so by people, I guess, although I still cave pretty quickly (especially depending on who it is). Mostly, however, it's like Deirdre also used to say: I am so good at adapting to my surroundings that I forget to be myself.
I've spent ...well, at the very least, the last 12 years or so letting life have its way with me. Occasionally I would put my foot down and Make A Change, but pretty much only for the glaringly-big things. In daily life, in the course of weeks and months and (apparently) the last year and a half, I just kind of go along with things, because that's how it goes and I can deal.
But the thing is, I can't deal. I've been going crazy and I have been waiting and waiting for something to change so I will be happy and -- just ... what?
It occurred to me--during tech week, I think, or shortly after--that it's my goram life, and maybe there are things I can't change right now, but there are definitely things that I can. I can't just sit around and wait for conditions to be perfect. [2] If I want things to be different, I need to change them. I got lucky--I got so lucky [3]--that I spent the last several years being literally presented with problems to deal with, and ideas to work on, and people to interact with. I got so comfortable with it that I never really learned how to ... well, self-motivate, I guess, although that phrase seems sort of trite and cliche. I was always jealous of the friends who just Get Shit Done because I never seem to have the time or the inclination to Do those things. And what I realized is ... why not? When people say "you have to make the time" I always respond with "I literally don't have any."
...but Piera. Why not.
Because I spend all of my energy waiting for something to cause me to move. And when nothing does, I find the closest most appealing activity that I can get my hands on, because clearly the magic of discovering a new thing signifies that it will change me. Obviously, this isn't working for me. I have so many things to write, so many books to read. I have let my intellect sort of wither and fade, because nothing external is pushing me to use it. And then I had the audacity to complain that I was losing myself -- because I kept looking for external forces to give me a reason to use them. I was bored, and I forgot to use the one resource I have always had: my own mind. [4]
I will not just be carried downstream anymore; I'm building a raft and I'm learning to steer. This is why I didn't get accepted to grad school: because I can't keep waiting for life to flow in the direction I want it to go. Some parts are necessary and unchangeable--I have a good job, and full-time hours, and I don't love it all the time but it's what I have and that's how it goes right now.But that job doesn't define me. But that job won't define me unless I let it. And I am very done letting it.
So this is my plan. I quit my second job. I turned down a stage managing offer. I claimed the desk in the new apartment and I will assign myself Office Hours, and I will Get Shit Done. Grad school apps, round two. Blogging. Reading. Catching up on my Greek. I even completed day one of my couch-to-5k program this afternoon. [5]
Sometimes, we have no control over life. I believe firmly that we are incapable of controlling it as a whole, because we are broken and human. We are, however, able to control how we react to it, learn from it, change because of it. It's easy for me to look at Big Scary Life Events and say well, we can't control what happens, we just have to learn how to deal. I'm good at that. But what I learned recently is that we also have no control over the fact that sometimes life is mundane. The Big Stuff, I accept as a challenge. I welcome challenge. The little stuff, however, I let take over. And I'm going to... stop letting it. It's going to take more self-discipline than I am used to exercising, because let's face it, the only reason I was so motivated in college was because grades were involved. Real life doesn't have grades. It just has me, being supremely disappointed in myself, which honestly has never been enough of a reason for change. [6] And I have a sneaking suspicion that starting to change this part of my life will create the groundwork for my alleged final level-up into "adulthood" (if not shove me into it altogether, but let's not get too excited).
So this is my plan, because it never gets easier. Hell, it never gets anywhere if you don't start trying.
---
[1] Well technically, I would make my mom drive me everywhere. Which is probably why she started telling me to cut it the hell out.
[2] My last post, but the body is weak, talks a lot about this already, but with less ... I don't know, revelation. That post was a recognition of the situation; this one is ... A Plan Of Sorts.
[3] Except I don't believe in luck, I believe in design, but it sounds sort of poetic here so I'll stick with it
[4] I get bonus points for saying Very Dramatic Things, right?
[5] It was pathetic. Just sayin.
[6] As aside here about stewardship, and how not using my talents for the glory of God is like burying them to "keep them safe," and I'm feeling very passionate in this post so it's coming out from a "I have to be good enough for myself" perspective when there's a whole lot of Jesus and grace and things actually involved. I'm just stating for the record that all of this falls under the category of "Already Assuming XY and Z"
Which is why, ultimately, I was so very upset about not getting into grad school. My reaction probably came across as pretty overdramatic, since it's not unusual not to be accepted the first time you apply places, and it's not like I can't apply again. But for me, it was more than just a delay in reaching my career. Grad school was going to give me another few years of intellectual high, and probably/hopefully give me that one last boost into "adulthood" that I've been waiting for. I couldn't tell you what it is that I'm going to learn or do that will make that happen, but I was (am?) pretty positive that a step or two remains between current Piera and useful-member-of-society-Piera. And grad school felt like my opportunity to reach that change, because it was moving on from barista-ing. I enjoy my job, but once the new-job thrill died down, Starbucks was just ... Starbucks. In some ways I'm jealous of the people who have found their calling in, as we say, "the industry." There's something to be said for contributing in tasty little ways to people's lives, and going home at the end of the day feeling fulfilled. But what I know is that it isn't MY calling, and it'll always make me restless and hungry for something more. Working there has given me plenty of time to observe society, but no way to respond to it. I have learned a lot of useful skills, but now I am just ... re-using those skills, and I don't know where or how to find new ones. I even put off getting promoted because I was positive that I would be moving on, and I didn't want to waste anyone's time by training me.
Anyway, as we all know, God usually has something in mind that is very different from what we expect. This time around, it was not going to grad school in the fall of 2013. And I could not for the life of me figure out WHY--what else was there to learn about this job? How else can I change, besides becoming a shift supervisor (which will only provide a quick intellectual buzz and then fade back into the status quo)? How am I supposed to go to this job every damn day and not worry that this is all I am good for?
Gradually, I figured it out. It took getting a second job, working on two shows (in two capacities), and going basically nonstop with barely enough time to sleep and/or shower for a couple of months before I did, but here I am. Realizing (again.) that some of the stuff my mom used to tell me is actually, in fact, great wisdom.
In high school, and when I was home from college, I would have this problem where I would over-commit. I had friends in different circles, and I hated to tell someone I couldn't do anything because I already had plans with someone else, because it felt like I was picking a favorite. So I would agree to all of it, and drive all over everywhere so I could make it work. [1] And every so often, it would really get to me, and I would be sick of everyone and just want some time for myself--which of course I realized too late, since I was supposed to be going somewhere and I didn't want to let anyone down by backing out. In these moments, my mom would tell me that I needed to stop letting everyone else dictate the course of my life. I, of course, would be furious that she thought I was such a pushover.
Well kids, here I am, nearly 25 years old and realizing how much of a pushover I am. Less so by people, I guess, although I still cave pretty quickly (especially depending on who it is). Mostly, however, it's like Deirdre also used to say: I am so good at adapting to my surroundings that I forget to be myself.
I've spent ...well, at the very least, the last 12 years or so letting life have its way with me. Occasionally I would put my foot down and Make A Change, but pretty much only for the glaringly-big things. In daily life, in the course of weeks and months and (apparently) the last year and a half, I just kind of go along with things, because that's how it goes and I can deal.
But the thing is, I can't deal. I've been going crazy and I have been waiting and waiting for something to change so I will be happy and -- just ... what?
It occurred to me--during tech week, I think, or shortly after--that it's my goram life, and maybe there are things I can't change right now, but there are definitely things that I can. I can't just sit around and wait for conditions to be perfect. [2] If I want things to be different, I need to change them. I got lucky--I got so lucky [3]--that I spent the last several years being literally presented with problems to deal with, and ideas to work on, and people to interact with. I got so comfortable with it that I never really learned how to ... well, self-motivate, I guess, although that phrase seems sort of trite and cliche. I was always jealous of the friends who just Get Shit Done because I never seem to have the time or the inclination to Do those things. And what I realized is ... why not? When people say "you have to make the time" I always respond with "I literally don't have any."
...but Piera. Why not.
Because I spend all of my energy waiting for something to cause me to move. And when nothing does, I find the closest most appealing activity that I can get my hands on, because clearly the magic of discovering a new thing signifies that it will change me. Obviously, this isn't working for me. I have so many things to write, so many books to read. I have let my intellect sort of wither and fade, because nothing external is pushing me to use it. And then I had the audacity to complain that I was losing myself -- because I kept looking for external forces to give me a reason to use them. I was bored, and I forgot to use the one resource I have always had: my own mind. [4]
I will not just be carried downstream anymore; I'm building a raft and I'm learning to steer. This is why I didn't get accepted to grad school: because I can't keep waiting for life to flow in the direction I want it to go. Some parts are necessary and unchangeable--I have a good job, and full-time hours, and I don't love it all the time but it's what I have and that's how it goes right now.
Sometimes, we have no control over life. I believe firmly that we are incapable of controlling it as a whole, because we are broken and human. We are, however, able to control how we react to it, learn from it, change because of it. It's easy for me to look at Big Scary Life Events and say well, we can't control what happens, we just have to learn how to deal. I'm good at that. But what I learned recently is that we also have no control over the fact that sometimes life is mundane. The Big Stuff, I accept as a challenge. I welcome challenge. The little stuff, however, I let take over. And I'm going to... stop letting it. It's going to take more self-discipline than I am used to exercising, because let's face it, the only reason I was so motivated in college was because grades were involved. Real life doesn't have grades. It just has me, being supremely disappointed in myself, which honestly has never been enough of a reason for change. [6] And I have a sneaking suspicion that starting to change this part of my life will create the groundwork for my alleged final level-up into "adulthood" (if not shove me into it altogether, but let's not get too excited).
So this is my plan, because it never gets easier. Hell, it never gets anywhere if you don't start trying.
---
[1] Well technically, I would make my mom drive me everywhere. Which is probably why she started telling me to cut it the hell out.
[2] My last post, but the body is weak, talks a lot about this already, but with less ... I don't know, revelation. That post was a recognition of the situation; this one is ... A Plan Of Sorts.
[3] Except I don't believe in luck, I believe in design, but it sounds sort of poetic here so I'll stick with it
[4] I get bonus points for saying Very Dramatic Things, right?
[5] It was pathetic. Just sayin.
[6] As aside here about stewardship, and how not using my talents for the glory of God is like burying them to "keep them safe," and I'm feeling very passionate in this post so it's coming out from a "I have to be good enough for myself" perspective when there's a whole lot of Jesus and grace and things actually involved. I'm just stating for the record that all of this falls under the category of "Already Assuming XY and Z"
Tuesday, April 16
rainsong
I found this gem posted in my facebook "notes" of all places (does anyone even use those anymore?!). I'm posting it because...well, because why not, but also because this is the only poem I have ever written that I don't loathe. Oh, and also because I want summer.
raw beauty
painted across the weeping sky
sunset: red and gold and orange
pretty standard.
but tonight—
tonight the rain sang her quiet selfless song
as the sky yawned pale yellow and distant dreams behind the trees and telephone lines
until the glowing cavern of fire and light splashed through the clouds
the air ablaze with radiance
and the sky poured out her soul on my feet and my face and my heart.
the breeze is in my hair
and every breath is summer showers
and every footprint fades
and even the perfect unreachable unnameable sky
cries herself back to the comfort of evening blues and greys
back to where she belongs
back to how she is remembered
but even though this night is now no different than any other
the quiet rainsong lingers
her melody remembered in the grass under my feet
and the breeze brushing my face in a gentle passing caress
and my heart is still beating—
still glowing with an unfading image
a brilliant raw passion
an unfathomable tenderness
filling all the spaces of my heart
all laughter and sorrow and hope
and painted fiercely across the weeping sky
raw beauty
painted across the weeping sky
sunset: red and gold and orange
pretty standard.
but tonight—
tonight the rain sang her quiet selfless song
as the sky yawned pale yellow and distant dreams behind the trees and telephone lines
until the glowing cavern of fire and light splashed through the clouds
the air ablaze with radiance
and the sky poured out her soul on my feet and my face and my heart.
the breeze is in my hair
and every breath is summer showers
and every footprint fades
and even the perfect unreachable unnameable sky
cries herself back to the comfort of evening blues and greys
back to where she belongs
back to how she is remembered
but even though this night is now no different than any other
the quiet rainsong lingers
her melody remembered in the grass under my feet
and the breeze brushing my face in a gentle passing caress
and my heart is still beating—
still glowing with an unfading image
a brilliant raw passion
an unfathomable tenderness
filling all the spaces of my heart
all laughter and sorrow and hope
and painted fiercely across the weeping sky
lately.
This isn't quite as cool as my idea of a Tim-Burtony-pop-up-storybook-werewolf video, but since it's actually by the band, I guess it's okay.
Anyway, I'm hoping to return from my accidental hiatus sooner vs later.
---
Edit: I guess you can't really have a hiatus, accidental or otherwise, if you don't really post on a regular basis. I guess what I mean is that I actually have some things I want to blog about and I keep putting those things off.
Friday, January 4
in case you were wondering
Sometimes I have these moments in which it occurs to me that I am a grown-up.
I mean... what?!
I was at the grocery store today and realized... here I am, choosing what food to buy with the money I have earned, and driving home in my leased car to my apartment, where I live with my husband and we sleep in the same bed and I don't have to hide this fact from my mother. We're paying bills and furnishing our home and planning for the future and working full time jobs and ... it's just kind of crazy, you know?
...that is all.
I mean... what?!
I was at the grocery store today and realized... here I am, choosing what food to buy with the money I have earned, and driving home in my leased car to my apartment, where I live with my husband and we sleep in the same bed and I don't have to hide this fact from my mother. We're paying bills and furnishing our home and planning for the future and working full time jobs and ... it's just kind of crazy, you know?
...that is all.
Monday, December 10
thanks, i like my glasses too
My one professor, who said he would be happy to recommend me for graduate school, hasn't turned in his letter. It was due on Saturday. The popular consensus is that I have to call him and speak to him directly about it. I mean, most likely he forgot (he's busy! and also a poet), and probably once I mention it he'll immediately feel terrible and send it in. But ... I don't want to call him. It feels so horribly confrontational. I don't want to make him feel bad, and I don't want to be in his face about a huge favor he is doing for me. I know, I know, he said he would, and it would just be being assertive--I get all of this. But it doesn't change the fact that presenting the problem to him (and in an actual conversation, not behind the safety of email) is terrifying.
Confrontation is one of those cliche things to be afraid of, and therefore, it really annoys me that I am so afraid of it. Especially because I also know exactly which childhood event made me hate it so much, and which other past events fueled that fear, and it's all so textbook that I feel like I really just need to get over it. And to make matters worse, the few times I do choose to be confrontational are usually influenced by adrenaline (or sometimes alcohol, but I never said that) and I go a little overboard and cause problems rather than actually being helpful. I have approximately one friend (you know who you are) with whom I am blatantly, confrontationally honest, but that's because our relationship started off that way. I was at a time in my life when I didn't have a lot to lose, and I was sick of not saying what I thought. That time, unfortunately, has passed.
What I hate most about this situation is the fact that it's not just about confrontation in the "let me tell you something you may or may not want to hear" sense. It's about how I live my life, and how I present myself to other people. It's about being afraid to be a person who makes a statement. It's about having people in my life who I really like, and want desperately to like me, but I spend so much time trying not to be a certain way that I forget to have a personality at all. And then when I let go and act like myself, I over-analyze other people's reactions and try to adapt my personality to fit what I think they want. Problem A: I'm really bad at reading people. Problem B: seriously, Piera? how old are you again? Apparently I never grew up past sophomore year. (actually, ironically, I was more outgoing in tenth grade than I am now. I try not to think about that.)
For example, I like the way I look without glasses. But aside from the fact that my eyes are totally messed up and it's hard for me to focus on things--it's scary not to wear them. I have big plastic colorful frames and I like them because they make a statement, and because people notice my glasses and not my face. It's not even that I don't like my face. I just feel exposed without something bold between me and the other person.
And then there's all this second-guessing before I even start a thing. I can't just let it be what it is, and deal with things as they come--I have to analyze it all and troubleshoot all the possible outcomes and then I end up not getting started in the first place. I downloaded the Couch-to-5K app on my phone, because I really do want to have some kind of workout routine. Partially it's to be healthy, partially it's to see if I'm less tired all the time, partially it's because I want to feel better about my body, partially (mostly?) it's because I want to still look good after I have babies, and I guess I should probably start that now. And I've heard good things about the Couch to 5K program, and it sounds kind of excellent because I have NO exercise in my life right now... but then there are all these factors to think about. Do I pay $1.99 for the actual app or just use the free knockoff version? Which three days of the week will I work out? Should I get a gym membership so I don't have to run in the icky cold snow? Should I go by distance or by time? Should I start doing yoga on my non-running days? Can I just get a yoga dvd and hope that I'm doing it right, or should I join a class? When will I have time for all of this?
...see problem B, above.
It's not like it's even that hard. The whole idea is you just ... start doing it, and see how it works out, and take it slow, and ease yourself into it. But apparently that's not good enough for me. I have to know what I'm doing and how it will work and I have to have a Plan before I can start doing anything. And then, you guessed it, nothing ever changes. Because I don't have the answers and I'm mostly just afraid to find out on my own.
It gets to me because I know better. I have a foundation that is stronger than my emotions, and more important than whether people like me. I am saved by grace through faith; I am living as a person who is free; God's grace toward me was not in vain. I know all of this. I think somewhere at my core I really do believe all of it--I just don't know how to make it relevant. There is a disconnect somewhere between eternal salvation and my everyday life. Because salvation matters on the grand, life-and-death-and-hope-and-a-future scale, and my personal interaction ... doesn't. Because I can't see how it matters whether I feel comfortable in my skin, whether people like me, whether I feel confident and useful and worthy. I believe so much in design and in the grand construction of time and the world, and I believe so strongly in καιρός (the Greek term for "the perfect moment" or "suitable/favorable occasion"), that I've taught myself not to worry about each individual moment. Time is fleeting, and what matters now won't matter in the end, so why bother worrying?
This belief is both a huge relief and a huge hindrance. On the one hand--if it doesn't matter, and if time is fleeting, why be anxious about asking my professor about his letter? The moment will pass. Be bold, be confident, live your life because you only have right now to do it. But it also makes it harder to get anything done, because if the moment will pass then why bother doing anything in the first place? My self-consciousness, my personality, my whole existence is just a moment in time in the grand scheme of things, so why should it be relevant? Does God's grace extend even to my feeling confident in everyday conversation, to my ability to speak clearly and boldly and without fear?
I know it does. I know it does, and that asking these questions is ridiculous. I was in Sunday school, I know all the stories about Jesus' love for his people. He turned water into wine at a wedding--how relevant was that on the grand scale, compared to feeding 5000 people or, you know, coming back to life? He hung out with the outcasts, and taught them, sure, but also probably just ... chilled, had conversation over dinner, that sort of thing. I know that God's love for the world doesn't just pertain to our salvation, but also to our lives--he knows how many hairs we have, he created our faces and our abilities and our preferences, he wants us to be happy. How many times have I said this to people or written about this or fallen back on it to shake off anxiety or depression? Like I said, I know better.
It's just ... hard. It's hard to remember that the little things matter. It's hard to remember that I matter, that people do like talking to me, that my professor will probably appreciate me calling him up to remind him about his letter because he really does want me to succeed. It's hard to look at the past and know where all these problems started, and then say "well, that sucked, but it's time to move on," but it's even harder to actually do it. It's hard to get off my ass and get stuff done, because it's so much easier and safer to stay here in my living room watching Bones than it is to take up new projects.
I'm going to call my professor, because it's more important for me to try to get into grad school than it is for me to be angsty about it. I'm (hopefully) going for a run (well, a walk) today because I want to start being healthier, but check back in a few weeks to see if I've made any progress. I went in and auditioned for a play because I miss acting, and it was kind of intimidating not to be around Concordia people who are supportive and fun, but I did it, and I feel pretty good about how it went down.
So there's all that. I need to hold on to my baptized, spiritual nature, and I need to remember that every moment, however temporary, counts for something. It doesn't count for everything, but that doesn't mean it isn't important.
And I need to remember that that same principle applies to me.
Confrontation is one of those cliche things to be afraid of, and therefore, it really annoys me that I am so afraid of it. Especially because I also know exactly which childhood event made me hate it so much, and which other past events fueled that fear, and it's all so textbook that I feel like I really just need to get over it. And to make matters worse, the few times I do choose to be confrontational are usually influenced by adrenaline (or sometimes alcohol, but I never said that) and I go a little overboard and cause problems rather than actually being helpful. I have approximately one friend (you know who you are) with whom I am blatantly, confrontationally honest, but that's because our relationship started off that way. I was at a time in my life when I didn't have a lot to lose, and I was sick of not saying what I thought. That time, unfortunately, has passed.
What I hate most about this situation is the fact that it's not just about confrontation in the "let me tell you something you may or may not want to hear" sense. It's about how I live my life, and how I present myself to other people. It's about being afraid to be a person who makes a statement. It's about having people in my life who I really like, and want desperately to like me, but I spend so much time trying not to be a certain way that I forget to have a personality at all. And then when I let go and act like myself, I over-analyze other people's reactions and try to adapt my personality to fit what I think they want. Problem A: I'm really bad at reading people. Problem B: seriously, Piera? how old are you again? Apparently I never grew up past sophomore year. (actually, ironically, I was more outgoing in tenth grade than I am now. I try not to think about that.)
For example, I like the way I look without glasses. But aside from the fact that my eyes are totally messed up and it's hard for me to focus on things--it's scary not to wear them. I have big plastic colorful frames and I like them because they make a statement, and because people notice my glasses and not my face. It's not even that I don't like my face. I just feel exposed without something bold between me and the other person.
And then there's all this second-guessing before I even start a thing. I can't just let it be what it is, and deal with things as they come--I have to analyze it all and troubleshoot all the possible outcomes and then I end up not getting started in the first place. I downloaded the Couch-to-5K app on my phone, because I really do want to have some kind of workout routine. Partially it's to be healthy, partially it's to see if I'm less tired all the time, partially it's because I want to feel better about my body, partially (mostly?) it's because I want to still look good after I have babies, and I guess I should probably start that now. And I've heard good things about the Couch to 5K program, and it sounds kind of excellent because I have NO exercise in my life right now... but then there are all these factors to think about. Do I pay $1.99 for the actual app or just use the free knockoff version? Which three days of the week will I work out? Should I get a gym membership so I don't have to run in the icky cold snow? Should I go by distance or by time? Should I start doing yoga on my non-running days? Can I just get a yoga dvd and hope that I'm doing it right, or should I join a class? When will I have time for all of this?
...see problem B, above.
It's not like it's even that hard. The whole idea is you just ... start doing it, and see how it works out, and take it slow, and ease yourself into it. But apparently that's not good enough for me. I have to know what I'm doing and how it will work and I have to have a Plan before I can start doing anything. And then, you guessed it, nothing ever changes. Because I don't have the answers and I'm mostly just afraid to find out on my own.
It gets to me because I know better. I have a foundation that is stronger than my emotions, and more important than whether people like me. I am saved by grace through faith; I am living as a person who is free; God's grace toward me was not in vain. I know all of this. I think somewhere at my core I really do believe all of it--I just don't know how to make it relevant. There is a disconnect somewhere between eternal salvation and my everyday life. Because salvation matters on the grand, life-and-death-and-hope-and-a-future scale, and my personal interaction ... doesn't. Because I can't see how it matters whether I feel comfortable in my skin, whether people like me, whether I feel confident and useful and worthy. I believe so much in design and in the grand construction of time and the world, and I believe so strongly in καιρός (the Greek term for "the perfect moment" or "suitable/favorable occasion"), that I've taught myself not to worry about each individual moment. Time is fleeting, and what matters now won't matter in the end, so why bother worrying?
This belief is both a huge relief and a huge hindrance. On the one hand--if it doesn't matter, and if time is fleeting, why be anxious about asking my professor about his letter? The moment will pass. Be bold, be confident, live your life because you only have right now to do it. But it also makes it harder to get anything done, because if the moment will pass then why bother doing anything in the first place? My self-consciousness, my personality, my whole existence is just a moment in time in the grand scheme of things, so why should it be relevant? Does God's grace extend even to my feeling confident in everyday conversation, to my ability to speak clearly and boldly and without fear?
I know it does. I know it does, and that asking these questions is ridiculous. I was in Sunday school, I know all the stories about Jesus' love for his people. He turned water into wine at a wedding--how relevant was that on the grand scale, compared to feeding 5000 people or, you know, coming back to life? He hung out with the outcasts, and taught them, sure, but also probably just ... chilled, had conversation over dinner, that sort of thing. I know that God's love for the world doesn't just pertain to our salvation, but also to our lives--he knows how many hairs we have, he created our faces and our abilities and our preferences, he wants us to be happy. How many times have I said this to people or written about this or fallen back on it to shake off anxiety or depression? Like I said, I know better.
It's just ... hard. It's hard to remember that the little things matter. It's hard to remember that I matter, that people do like talking to me, that my professor will probably appreciate me calling him up to remind him about his letter because he really does want me to succeed. It's hard to look at the past and know where all these problems started, and then say "well, that sucked, but it's time to move on," but it's even harder to actually do it. It's hard to get off my ass and get stuff done, because it's so much easier and safer to stay here in my living room watching Bones than it is to take up new projects.
I'm going to call my professor, because it's more important for me to try to get into grad school than it is for me to be angsty about it. I'm (hopefully) going for a run (well, a walk) today because I want to start being healthier, but check back in a few weeks to see if I've made any progress. I went in and auditioned for a play because I miss acting, and it was kind of intimidating not to be around Concordia people who are supportive and fun, but I did it, and I feel pretty good about how it went down.
So there's all that. I need to hold on to my baptized, spiritual nature, and I need to remember that every moment, however temporary, counts for something. It doesn't count for everything, but that doesn't mean it isn't important.
And I need to remember that that same principle applies to me.
Sunday, September 9
being a grown-up is hard (that's why they invented procrastination)
On the agenda for this week: applying for grad school (now that the stupid GRE is over with, thank goodness) and looking/applying for jobs (if you work with me now, you can keep that tidbit of information to yourself for the time being...).
Annnd surprise, I'm procrastiblogging! Why? Because like all homework, I like to do everything else before I hunker down to do the real thing I have to do (if you're considering me for a job, please erase that from the record) (it's different when it's for a job) (anyway I have almost never handed in anything late, even if I stayed up until 4am doing it. That's dedication).
The real point of this post, however, is my frustration with present circumstances. Let me explain. My car is leaking gas and generally falling apart, and we would like to get a new car in order to not be worrying about mine collapsing. But in order to do this, I need a second job. Second-job hunting has transformed into job hunting, because a new, better-paying full-time job would not be so awful (I'm very steadily losing the optimism I once had about humanity). So I head tra-la down Obnoxious Job Search Lane and wind up in the Neighborhood of Education-Related Job Opportunities, because I somehow always gravitate toward those. And, surprisingly enough, I have found a couple of leads and I am at present avoiding writing cover letters and so on for applications.
So, you're thinking, what is the problem here?
The problem is my brain. I want to go to grad school next fall (I'm happily assuming here that I will get into any/all of my options, just let me have my delusions thank you very much and yes I know this is a run-on sentence). And that school could be here in Madison, or maybe in Chicago, or heck maybe even in Iowa (?!). And if I step into a job that's more than just an $8/hr service industry gig, I'll only be able to do it for about a year if I move anywhere other than here, and even if I stay here, I don't know if I can juggle a full time job and full time grad school at the same time (no, now is not a good time to remind me that I'll probably have to do that). Plus, I won't know about school until probably December at the very earliest, but if I waited until then to look for new jobs (because one more year at the 'bux when the end is in sight... that's not SO bad...) means that I'd only be at the new job for less than a year if I move. SO naturally because I am me, I worry about whether I will be letting people down by quitting after how many months of learning a job and learning how to do it well--and then again, what if I don't do it well? What if I actually really suck at secretarial things even though I somehow always end up looking for those kinds of jobs? What if I just stay at my job now until I go to school (which will take a lot of patience and prayers because I am frustrated now after only a year) and then discover that I don't want to teach English Comp and/or I'm a bad English Comp teacher and I should have studied graphic design all along? What if I do all this work to apply to jobs and to school and at the end of it, I have no new job options and I don't get into the schools I applied to and... and...
...and this is about where my thought-train kind of sputters and dies, because... so, I'm thinking, what's the problem here?
I have a job right now--a full time, with benefits, steady job. I'm making money, even if it's not a lot, or not enough for the lifestyle I want. I have a bachelors degree, even if I don't go back to school, and I have a lot of various experience, and I already know it's not my calling to work at the 'bux for the rest of my life. I already know I want to do more, and I already know that God will guide me to where he wants me to be. If that's not the places I'm looking, then he'll put it directly in my face so I can't miss it. Goodness knows he's done that before.
Piera. Do you believe all that stuff you say about design, and about everything working out when and how it's supposed to? Then what is the problem here?
The problem is my brain. I think too much. And if I stopped thinking about it and just starting applying and whatnot, I probably would have avoided a lot of this drama.
But then, dear 4.7 readers, I would not have written this post about patience and design and the uselessness of angst. And if that isn't dramatic irony for you then I should have failed all of my theatre classes.
Annnd surprise, I'm procrastiblogging! Why? Because like all homework, I like to do everything else before I hunker down to do the real thing I have to do (if you're considering me for a job, please erase that from the record) (it's different when it's for a job) (anyway I have almost never handed in anything late, even if I stayed up until 4am doing it. That's dedication).
The real point of this post, however, is my frustration with present circumstances. Let me explain. My car is leaking gas and generally falling apart, and we would like to get a new car in order to not be worrying about mine collapsing. But in order to do this, I need a second job. Second-job hunting has transformed into job hunting, because a new, better-paying full-time job would not be so awful (I'm very steadily losing the optimism I once had about humanity). So I head tra-la down Obnoxious Job Search Lane and wind up in the Neighborhood of Education-Related Job Opportunities, because I somehow always gravitate toward those. And, surprisingly enough, I have found a couple of leads and I am at present avoiding writing cover letters and so on for applications.
So, you're thinking, what is the problem here?
The problem is my brain. I want to go to grad school next fall (I'm happily assuming here that I will get into any/all of my options, just let me have my delusions thank you very much and yes I know this is a run-on sentence). And that school could be here in Madison, or maybe in Chicago, or heck maybe even in Iowa (?!). And if I step into a job that's more than just an $8/hr service industry gig, I'll only be able to do it for about a year if I move anywhere other than here, and even if I stay here, I don't know if I can juggle a full time job and full time grad school at the same time (no, now is not a good time to remind me that I'll probably have to do that). Plus, I won't know about school until probably December at the very earliest, but if I waited until then to look for new jobs (because one more year at the 'bux when the end is in sight... that's not SO bad...) means that I'd only be at the new job for less than a year if I move. SO naturally because I am me, I worry about whether I will be letting people down by quitting after how many months of learning a job and learning how to do it well--and then again, what if I don't do it well? What if I actually really suck at secretarial things even though I somehow always end up looking for those kinds of jobs? What if I just stay at my job now until I go to school (which will take a lot of patience and prayers because I am frustrated now after only a year) and then discover that I don't want to teach English Comp and/or I'm a bad English Comp teacher and I should have studied graphic design all along? What if I do all this work to apply to jobs and to school and at the end of it, I have no new job options and I don't get into the schools I applied to and... and...
...and this is about where my thought-train kind of sputters and dies, because... so, I'm thinking, what's the problem here?
I have a job right now--a full time, with benefits, steady job. I'm making money, even if it's not a lot, or not enough for the lifestyle I want. I have a bachelors degree, even if I don't go back to school, and I have a lot of various experience, and I already know it's not my calling to work at the 'bux for the rest of my life. I already know I want to do more, and I already know that God will guide me to where he wants me to be. If that's not the places I'm looking, then he'll put it directly in my face so I can't miss it. Goodness knows he's done that before.
Piera. Do you believe all that stuff you say about design, and about everything working out when and how it's supposed to? Then what is the problem here?
The problem is my brain. I think too much. And if I stopped thinking about it and just starting applying and whatnot, I probably would have avoided a lot of this drama.
But then, dear 4.7 readers, I would not have written this post about patience and design and the uselessness of angst. And if that isn't dramatic irony for you then I should have failed all of my theatre classes.
Wednesday, August 22
in which many various pieces of my brain suddenly made sense
My mom is from New Orleans. And by from, I mean she was born there, and then moved around a bunch (pastor's kid and all) and then returned to NO for high school.
She frequently laments that she raised "a bunch of damn yanks," but don't tell her I told you.
And I knew my mom was a big fan of southern hospitality, and that she still wants to move back there, but I never realized how much her love of the city was a part of me until Brett Will Taylor wrote this article. Mom sent me the link (surprise) and I click it to peruse, as usual, and suddenly I'm reading it thinking ... yep... me too... wow, weird.
I have a lot of fragmented thoughts in my head, but it usually takes some kind of external stimulus for those thoughts to present themselves as a coherent, concrete idea. This was one of those times. I was raised in New Orleans ... I just had the misfortune to be living in other places.
Caveat: I don't know about #7. But then, I've never actually met a pit bull.
She frequently laments that she raised "a bunch of damn yanks," but don't tell her I told you.
And I knew my mom was a big fan of southern hospitality, and that she still wants to move back there, but I never realized how much her love of the city was a part of me until Brett Will Taylor wrote this article. Mom sent me the link (surprise) and I click it to peruse, as usual, and suddenly I'm reading it thinking ... yep... me too... wow, weird.
I have a lot of fragmented thoughts in my head, but it usually takes some kind of external stimulus for those thoughts to present themselves as a coherent, concrete idea. This was one of those times. I was raised in New Orleans ... I just had the misfortune to be living in other places.
Caveat: I don't know about #7. But then, I've never actually met a pit bull.
Thursday, July 12
getting there
Kaylee: how come you don't care where you're going?I have a 45 minute commute to work in the morning. At 4am I pretty much sail through the countryside, since I'm only sharing the road with the occasional semi truck or raccoon. But on the way home, there's a decent amount of traffic, and on a two-lane highway with a lot of curves, it's hard to pass the people who are afraid to even go 55mph (which is the actual speed limit). Because it's a country road and it's generally acceptable to be going somewhere between 60-65, getting stuck behind these drivers is incredibly frustrating. And most of the time, there's really nothing to be done. You're stuck going 50 mph behind a line of seven cars, and that's just how it's going to be.
Book: 'cos how you get there is the worthier part. [1]
On the bright side, a lot of driving time also equals a lot of thinking time. It occurs to me, while I'm hot and tired and impatient with people, that I'm still moving forward, one way or another, and there's more to the journey than just getting to your destination. I think about this in three-lane traffic too, when there's a mass of cars all moving the same speed, and merging around each other into different lanes. Aside from the fact that it's pretty fascinating that all those tons of metal are moving at high speeds as one general forward-moving group of people, there's also only so much that a person can do to get from Point A to Point B. Traffic might be going at 65 mph, and you might get up to 70 dodging around a car or two, but you're still going to get stuck behind more cars all going 65. You have three different lane options, but you still have to be aware of the people and the world around you. You can't just skip ahead to the place you're headed for--you have to pay attention to what's right in front of you. And in the end, it might take a little longer than you'd like to get where you're going, but you're still going to get there.
Am I the only crazy person finding some profundity in this?
The thing about life is... you just have to keep living it. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it's awesome. Sometimes you don't know how you're going to making through the day and sometimes you never want the day to end. But the world is still turning and eventually your body will make you sleep and if you want to keep taking care of yourself (let alone anyone else in your life) you'll have to wake up, and eat, and go to work, and so on.
And some days, I hate it. Some days I'm bored and I'm frustrated with my surroundings, and I just want to pass the car in front of me and move on to the next part of my life.
When I discovered Ecclesiastes 3 a couple of years ago, I was shocked at how directly it applied to my thought process. It's not that the rest of the Bible doesn't apply to me, but the first 13 verses of Ecclesiastes speak to my heart in a way that few passages do.
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. (Ecc 3:1)
There is a time for everything. I believe in a God whose design for our lives is greater than our emotions. I believe in a God whose love is greater than my sadness. Or my boredom, for that matter. I believe we're all in the neverending process of learning and of growing, and as such, we're in the neverending process of moving forward. Because things still change. They have to. We have birthdays, go to school, get jobs--heck, we wake up and do stuff and go to sleep, just because it's what we're made to do. We create relationships with people who are also moving forward, and then we learn and grow from them, and sometimes they stay with us and sometimes they don't. Summer will turn into fall eventually, and then to winter, and then next year will be here and I will be remarking on how quickly the last year seemed to pass by. Life is more or less a string of moments, one after another, cause-and-effect, and every moment (whether it's made up of seconds or weeks or years) is affected by the past and changes the future. (see here for some nerdiness in regards to the Greek word for "season").
The point is, if I spent my whole life skipping from one momentous event to the next, I would miss all the life in between. And the thing about life is that it's not always fun or beautiful. Sometimes it's stupid or stressful or miserable. Sometimes it's just plain boring. Plus, by the way, it's impossible for me to actually skip the "boring" parts of my life. But fortunately I'm still moving forward, by necessity of the laws of nature, and everything changes. And what's more, everything changes in its own time (which is to say, everything changes on God's time, and not mine). My destination never changes--I know where I'll end up, and every day I'm another step closer--but for the present, I have to pay attention to my surroundings. And chances are good that something can be learned from those surroundings, even if it's as simple a thing as patience.
---
[1] from Serenity, the pilot episode of Firefly
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)