Francie in the Land of Hippies and Lumberjacks

how we fared on the wedding budget

2010-05-21T13:29:00.001-04:00

Since I mentioned wedding budgets some time ago, I wanted to report back on how we did.

total cost: $4,500.61, making us (drum roll, please), exactly $499.39 under budget. This cost includes everything wedding related except for our rings and another small personal gift from yours truly to the groom, a shawl (pashmina, to be more accurate) that my mom bought for me in case I got cold, and the rehearsal dinner, which was paid for by Jake's parents and hosted by his mom. Also Starbucks and lunch on the day of -- and I have no idea who even paid for that.

breakdown:

reception costs: $1893 ($800 for dinner, wine and cake; $760 for rental of the venue; $285 for rental items (stemware, etc.), tablecloths, napkins and decorations; $48 party favors). = 42%
clothing, make-up, hair, alterations, etc.: $1,014 = 22.5%
photographer: $500 = 11%
ceremony costs: $320 ($250 musicians; $52 bouquets, boutonnieres and corsages; $18 programs) = 7%
car rental for the week: $300 = 6.7%
pre-marital counseling: $210 = 4.7%
invitations and thank you cards: $115 = 2.6%
gifts for the wedding party: $95 = 2.1%
marriage license: $60 = 1.3%

2010-05-04T13:25:00.000-04:00

In the interest of giving credit where credit is due: All but the first of these was taken by Caryl of In the Lens Photography. Many thanks to Caryl. (The first photo was taken by my mom).

Columbia River Gorge

2010-05-04T13:18:00.000-04:00

thanks a lot, economy

2010-04-09T21:46:00.000-04:00

number of people invited to the wedding: 96

number of people coming to the wedding: 29-31
11 of Francie's friends
1 mutual friend of Francie and Jake's
5 of Francie's family members
10-12 of Jake's family members
2 of Jake's friends

12 principles I learned from wedding planning (that are applicable to personal finance in general)

2010-03-29T19:55:00.002-04:00

1. details matter -- $6.00 saved on candle holders may not seem like such a big deal when compared with a $5,000 budget, but a dollar here and there quickly adds up to a whole lot of money.

2. cheapest is not always best -- Some things really are worth the extra money. Skimp where it doesn't make a difference, so that you can splurge where it does.

3. bulk is not always best -- Don't buy ten pounds of potatoes for $7.50 if you only need the five pounds of potatoes that you can buy for $5.00.
   Also, CostCo is good for some things, but we actually got a much better deal on wine by finding a local wine shop. The owner was knowledgeable; thanks to his advice and assistance, we were able to buy good local wines that fit our budget and complimented our menu, and he gave us a bulk discount, since we bought a total of 24 bottles. In the process, we supported a local business and two good regional wineries (not to mention the Cava). lesson: Sometimes it's better to skip the national warehouse club and go to the small locally-owned shop.

4. Be willing to borrow. (I don't mean borrow money; I mean things like corkscrews and clothes steamers).

5. Be willing to rent. -- We thought we would have to invest in plastic champagne and wine glasses, but it turned out to be more cost effective to rent, given the number of glasses we needed. Plus, real glasses look better and are better for the environment, since they don't get pitched after the wedding. Bonus lesson: Sometimes greener is also cheaper.

6. Be willing to ask for help. -- Your friends and family are resources that want to be used. Not only do the people you love love to help you, but allowing them to share expertise and/or embark on a project with you is a great way to have fun and bond with them. Just be sensitive to what your friends' talents and interests actually are: ask them to do something they can't do well, and they're liable to feel frustrated, and you're liable to end up dissatisfied with the results.

7. Be willing to splurge. -- If you really want it and will regret it later if you do not do or have it, then by all means do it, assuming you can afford it without going into debt or making it impossible to do something more important later. Do it as cost effectively as possible, but by all means do it.

8. Be willing to compromise -- I came across a very useful book called Emotionally Engaged (by Allison Moir-Smith), on the subject of preparing mentally and emotionally for marriage. While not all of it applied to me personally, I really appreciated what the author said about the role wedding planning plays in setting the stage for marriage.
     Her point is that many couples have never had the experience of planning anything together that's more complicated than an evening on the town, and suddenly they are planning this major event that involves both their families, all their friends and an expenditure of several thousand dollars. There will be disagreements in the process; attempt to make the most of them by viewing this as an opportunity to learn how to communicate with each other and how to deal with conflict (better now, in a fairly safe environment, then later when major issues are at stake -- like how to care for aging parents, whether to have kids, etc.). Don't just give in to all the other person's wishes, and don't fail to consult the other party and choose to do it all your own way. If you can't manage to make your wedding a reflection of the two of you as a couple, then when will you learn to work together and to develop your identity as a couple?
     Reconcile yourself to the fact that having your wedding be an expression of the two you together may involve spending money on some things you wouldn't choose to spend money on if you were doing this on your own. -- Also note, however, that you may have to compromise by not spending money on some things you would splurge on if you were doing this on your own.

9. Craigslist and e-bay are your friends. Buy it used if you can, and pass it on when you're finished with it, unless you have a good reason for keeping it.

10. Avoid going into debt at all costs (unless it's absolutely necessary, but I can't think why it would ever be absolutely necessary to go into debt for a wedding).

11. Put your money where your priorities are. -- We added a budget line to help friends with funds, so that they could afford to attend the wedding, and as a result we had to give up wine with dinner. In the end, our friends couldn't come anyway, so we're back to having wine with dinner. But the sentiment is still valid. No one can do everything, so when making a choice about how to spend your money, ask yourself why you're spending it. What value or cause does this purchase support? We wanted our friends, who are traveling a long distance to come to the wedding, to have a nice dinner (thus, wine), but it's way more important to give them the opportunity to be with us in the first place, so that we can share the day with them.
      Similarly, if wedding spending is stopping you from spending funds on something more important, either now or in the future (be it buying a house or helping a sick friend), you might want to rethink your wedding spending. If you can't think of a good reason why you're buying it, you probably don't need it.

12. Just because you save money in one place, is no reason to spend it in another -- This is the area where I most need work: Spent $6.98 on jewelry but budgeted $20 or $25? Great (thanks, e-bay)! That doesn't mean you need to add that amount of money somewhere else in your budget. It isn't free, found money that you're somehow obligated to spend. If the best way to use that extra money is to buy flowers, fine, but don't just spend it on something simply because you budgeted to spend a certain amount overall. There's no crime in coming in under-budget.

money

2010-01-12T17:16:00.001-05:00

On Sunday afternoon my mom and Amy and I went to David's Bridal so that Amy could get her bridesmaid's dress, my mom could try on dresses and I could get a couple accessory items.

The dress looked even better in person than it had on ye olde internet and very nice on Amy too, I might add, but the place itself was a zoo, thanks to the fact that they were having a sale on all their wedding gowns.

There were bridesmaids in hideously colored strapless dresses with their bra straps hanging over the top, a flower girl dressed in a bridal white princess dress parading around, refusing to take said dress off, and a pretty girl with glasses who probably could have been my daughter (age-wise that is; she looked nothing like me), who was trying on ball gown style dresses, each skirt being bigger and poofier than the last.

Needless to say, it was not your humble narrator's idea of a good time.

All of which leads to muse on the deep-seated evils of the American bridal industry. Did you know that the average cost for an American wedding is $27,000? Of course, most people don't pay that much; that's the mean, which is raised up by $500,000 celebrity weddings and the like. But still -- it seems to me there's a problem here.

The other day I happened to look at a "Christian Wedding Planner," and I was saddened to see that other than a few biblical quotes and the exhortation to pray with your fiance and be sure to put God first in both the relationship and the planning, it didn't differ from any other cookie cutter wedding planning book. There was no chapter on how to cut down the cost of the wedding and spend the money you would have spent to feed the poor. In fact, there was no discussion of financial stewardship whatsoever.

I wonder how many weddings would be less intricate if the bride and groom decided to tithe the cost of the wedding.

Yes, I do believe in the importance of weddings, both ceremonies and receptions, as celebrations and rites of passage. The wedding ceremony has religious significance not only for the couple, but for their community as well, as the community are asked to covenant together to encourage and challenge the couple as needed, as witnesses of a not merely passive nature. The celebration also has symbolic religious significance. When we think about the marriage of Christ and the church, we should also think of the wedding feast of the Lamb.

Weddings are meant to be celebrations...

.... But not if they cause you to be so broke that you can't pay rent. And not if you are spending recklessly on flowers and wedding favors that the guests will discard tomorrow, when you could be doing something useful with those funds.

Jake and I are broke, and we're both worried about money, and I find myself wishing that we could relax a bit and not worry about money all the time -- it would definitely cut the stress of wedding planning down, probably by about 80%. But it also occurs to me that there is a certain blessing in being broke. It does force me to evaluate how we spend our money and to be more responsible about it. We're trying to keep our budget to $5,000 for a wedding of 60-80 people and still fix an actual meal for our guests. If we actually had money, I'd be willing to go a bit higher, but I'm glad that our lack of funds prohibits us from giving into the temptation to spend more than is necessary. Spending money is easy; having a nice wedding without overspending takes planning, creativity, and work.

Stay tuned, and I'll let you know how we do on that front.

this is not a wedding blog

2010-01-06T15:23:00.001-05:00

I got engaged on Christmas Eve.

Now, you might have thought I would've been prepared for this, given that I basically knew it would happen sometime while Jake and I were in the same place between 12/23 and 12/31. After all, I had my great-grandmother's diamond in hand, and we had ordered a setting and made plans to go look at it and probably purchase it (which we did) on the 23rd. Not only that, but I had my wonderful e-bay special wedding dress fitted in mid-December, and it was back in Niki's closet, patiently waiting.

There it is, sitting on the hanger in the store, complete with a new corset back.

I even bought high-heeled silver shoes and thoroughly researched wedding venues and photographers.

Nonetheless, it's still an adjustment, being engaged. I keep looking at this shiny object on my left ring finger in a vague state of wonder. I am starting to try out new titles on Jake, titles like "future husband," a title that, needless to say, I very much enjoy addressing him with.

I am so in love with this boy.

Wedding planning, on the other hand, is much less fun when it involves spending actual money than it is when it involves just thinking about what you would spend money on, if you had the money to spend and a reason to spend it. I do believe it is a good and valid thing to have a celebration as well as a religious ceremony, but besides the fact that we don't have much money, I simply want to be a good steward of the money we do have. Not only do we not want to go into debt in order to have a wedding, but I also don't want to be extravagant, spending money that could go to more important things like rent, Anya's tuition, feeding the poor...

In any case, for those who don't yet know, Jake and I are getting married on April 24th. The reception will be here, the photographer will be this person, and if anyone wants to view other details, they may do so here, at the information site we set up for our wedding guests (of which there would be more, if only we could afford it -- so if you don't get an invite, please don't feel insulted; I had to cut a lot of people off my list that I really wanted to invite).

New Year's Resolutions

2010-01-02T15:57:00.004-05:00

1. Read the Bible more often and consistently.
2. Pray more with Jake.
3. Go back to yoga in March -- at least 3 times per week on average.

my dad's backyard

2009-12-21T08:41:00.000-05:00

The view from the kitchen window when I came down for breakfast this morning:

weight loss

2009-12-16T19:09:00.002-05:00

During the first half of December 2009 your humble narrator ate an average of 1509.25 calories per day and lost a total of one pound.

distress and eustress

2009-12-01T09:28:00.003-05:00

I promised my former advisor that I'd have an article for him by the end of the year for inclusion in a themed issue of the American Catholic Philosophical Quarterly on Bonaventure. Meanwhile, I haven't finished the dissertation chapter I insisted I'd have finished by the beginning of November. It is not only not finished; it is, in fact, nowhere near finished, as it keeps growing and growing and growing. I will lose my mind and will not finish my dissertation in time (how Hermionesque is that, to consider the second of those as worse than the first) if I do not cut something from this increasingly mammoth work. I realize the topic is too large, but I also feel constrained by the need to keep the project within the official constraints of the grant, while still keeping it a) philosophically interesting, b) interesting to me (otherwise, I just won't have the stamina to complete it), and c) workable within the timeframe. At the moment, it is b), maybe a), but definitely not c), and I am so stressed that I feel paralyzed when I sit down to work, which, needless to say, does not help.

Meanwhile, Jake arrives three weeks from tomorrow, and after the whirlwind tour of Christmas celebrations and meeting members of my extended family (poor Jake) we head off to NYC for APA (that's the American Philosophical Association annual Eastern division conference, for those of you who are not up on that acronym). On the day he arrives, my dad and I will go to meet him at airport, we will go out to breakfast with my dad (who Jake has not yet met), and then my dad will drive us to the jeweler's, where we will look at rings. My mom will pick us up from there, and we will go to Longwood Gardens to look at poinsettas and Christmas lights and sing Christmas songs.

In February I go back to Belgium for ten days; there's a small conference in Leuven associated with the project I am working under for my dissertation, and I have to give a paper, as well as be available to help with the conference. Jake and I have talked about my moving to Portland in March, but that could be complicated by the fact that as of right now Jake doesn't have a job after December. The place where he's currently adjuncting can't give him any classes next term. Then too, we don't yet know where (and if) Jake will get a permanent teaching job and/or post-doc for next year.

Anya (whose name I can now say, since she now knows about me) graduates from high school and turns 18 at the end of June. We plan to bring her to the states for a visit, and then she will stay with us, and we will sponsor her for school beginning in the fall, first to study English and then to attend a regular university or art school. In order for her to get a student visa, we will have to have all of her tuition for the year upfront and be able to prove that we have adequate means to support her housing, food and related costs.

My dissertation must be submitted no later than the first half of October 2010, to be defended by the end of the calendar year.

So basically, my stress level is high, though not for any particularly unpleasant reasons, and this appears to be my year for radical change.

to recap: between September 2009 and December 2010 I have done, am doing or tentatively will do the following:

1) move to the states from Belgium
2) attend two academic conferences
3) write one journal article and one paper to give at a conference
4) finish my dissertation
5) defend my dissertation, thus completing my 27 years (if I counted right) of formal schooling
6) ride on a total of at least eighteen planes, probably more
7) get engaged
8) get married
9) live with my father for the first time since I was five
10) move from my father's to an undisclosed location (probably Portland) and then possibly to another undisclosed location after that.
11) sponsor a Ukrainian teenager to come to the states and study
12) live with a Ukrainian teenager (basically as part of my immediate family, even though it's not an official adoption and any family link, or lack of it, is her choice, not mine)
13) maybe once things have calmed down a bit, Jake and I can get a second cat -- he always says he wants two.

It's not that I don't want any of these things to happen (except for the part about being behind and overwhelmed in my work); it's just that I don't enjoy the fact that they are all happening at the same time. I would have preferred the opportunity to experience them one at a time. The stress from each one compounds the stress of the others, making it a good deal more difficult to concentrate on work, which is by far my greatest stress. It's not that I'm not thankful, or that I'm at all unhappy; I'm just incredibly overwhelmed.

So, that's what's up with me and why you haven't heard from me in awhile.

love,
yhn

to end with

2009-11-28T14:45:00.002-05:00

What are you now doing and what are you planning to do in the near future, you ask? -- I promise I'll tell you all about that later.

to middle with

2009-11-28T14:34:00.003-05:00

What have I been doing, you wonder? (or if you don't, I'll just pretend you do)

April (Easter, actually) -- My friend Jake and I finally manage to deal with that blurry line between "just friends" and "more than just friends" by more or less leaping solidly over it.
May -- Jake defends his dissertation, and we go to Paris for a few days (I also turn 38 and give a paper at a workshop).
July -- Jake leaves Leuven for Portland.
September -- I pack up all my stuff, clean out and vacate my apartment, and go to visit Jake and his family in the Portland area for three weeks.
October -- I come back to Belgium for a few days, retrieve a couple suitcases and my cat, and get on a Baltimore-bound plane with all of the above. Cat, suitcases and I temporarily move in with my father and stepmother.
November -- back to Portland for a week, thanks to cheap tickets, to spend the week of Jake's birthday with him, then back to Baltimore.

to begin with

2009-11-28T14:24:00.002-05:00

I was mildly and lovingly chastised recently for not posting anything on my blog for so long. I have two ready excuses for this: 1) So much is going on in my life and in my head that I don't know where to start. And 2) The longer I go without writing the more strange it is that I haven't written in so long and the more I feel that if I do write, I need to say something extraordinary. And so I end up saying nothing at all.

Where to go?

2009-06-22T04:43:00.001-04:00

Hello blog fans,

I am considering staying in the states after my visit to Portland (OR) from late September - mid-October. If I come, I will need a place where:

1. I can have my cat with me.
2. I won't have to sign a lease but will be able to leave with two months notice.
3. I have access to public transportation, places to study and drink coffee, and a library with a decent collection of books on Medieval philosophy and theology (particularly primary texts in Latin). Some of this last could be taken care of with interlibrary loan access.

I would prefer if this place were:
1. located near a church I'm excited about
2. located within a reasonable distance of a (preferably bikram) yoga studio
3. in Baltimore, Chicago, Milwaukee, or possibly Portland.

If anyone has any suggestions that meet the first three conditions and as many of the second as possible, please let me know. I would be looking for a place beginning 10/15, but I have to let my landlord here know as soon as possible whether or not I am renewing my lease.

Any suggestions would be much appreciated. Post a comment or send me an e-mail.

Thanks,
yhn

the long and long overdue life update

2009-06-18T07:27:00.003-04:00

Dear blog fans,

I apologize for the long near-silence. I shall now commence with the long overdue life-update:

1) work -- Last week I finished writing the second chapter of my dissertation. It looks promising in context of the whole; apparently, I actually have something coherent to say about our boy, Bonaventure. If I have time, I'll write a second post later today on the subject of my dissertation. I suspect it would be useful to write out a picture of the whole before I fully move on to the third chapter.

In other academic news, my first article should be out by the end of this calendar year. It's on William of Ockham's understanding of what a concept is and will appear in one of the [very few] main journals of Medieval philosophy. I may also have an opportunity to write an article on Bonaventure and am thinking of revising a paper I wrote on Bonaventure's Life of St. Francis and submitting it to Franciscan Studies (a journal I love, despite the fact that they can't seem to copy-edit to save their lives).

This brings us to 2) ---- -- Some time ago I did some research to see whether or not it was possible to bring ---- to Belgium for the 2009/2010 academic year (her senior year). It turns out this would be possible if I sponsored her under an official student exchange program. The paperwork would be long, bureaucratic and complicated (one wouldn't expect less from the Belgians), and I would have to pay a fee of 200-300EUR to the exchange program, in addition to any paperwork and travel fees. All of that would have been fine except for the following: 1) In order to send ---- to an English-language school, I would have to shell out at least 7,000EUR tuition for the academic year and 2) if ---- wanted to go to the states the following year, it would mean starting a whole new round of paperwork. Since they are two different countries, having done the paperwork to come to Belgium would be no help toward doing the paperwork to come to the States.

After much thought and prayer (mostly prayer) I decided I wasn't supposed to move forward with the student exchange plan. It seems to me if ---- wants to go to university in the States, it makes more sense to save the 7000+ EUR and put that towards her college education. Since I can't adopt her legally, she won't be eligible for any federal financial aid, including loans. So apart from any scholarships she may receive, all the money will need to come out of my pocket, along with any private loans I may have to take out. I'm prepared to do that, but I want to make sure I have the funds to finish what I started. That 7,000EUR is likely to come in handy (I currently, interestedly enough, have just a little less than that saved in the "---- fund")

I felt like I was supposed to wait for awhile, that some piece of the puzzle was missing and I needed to wait, so that's what I've been doing. But at some point I also came to the conclusion that I should get in touch with all my contacts who know and care about ---- as soon as I had completed my second chapter. And I completed my second chapter last week. So, today is the day I send out e-mails. I want to let everyone know what I have been thinking and praying about and to ask for their opinions and advice. I hope we can all be on the same page about this. I am trying to think only one step at a time and that seems to me like the next step. Eventually, my hope is that I'll be able to bring ---- to the states to study, and that I'll be her sponsor. Beyond that, it will be her choice how much I am involved in her life. If she just wants me to be a financial sponsor, fine. If she wants me to be a mentor and/or friend, even better, but this is not a precondition of me funding her education. If she wants me to be her family, even better, but it must be her decision. If she wants to live with me while she attends university, okay; if she wants to live elsewhere but visit during vacations, okay; if none of the above (provided she has somewhere else to go for vacations), also okay.

So, that is how things stand at the moment. If those of you who pray would pray for us, I'd very much appreciate it.

And for the moment, I'll leave it at that.
love and good will,
yhn

breakfast in Paris

2009-06-02T15:37:00.003-04:00

Chartres

2009-06-02T06:28:00.002-04:00

Hannah guards her mommy's purse

2009-04-19T13:14:00.002-04:00

Don't I just have the cutest watchcat ever?

You must watch this!

2009-04-14T13:44:00.001-04:00

I don't want to tell you what it is. But please just watch it!

Bruges

2009-03-23T13:48:00.001-04:00

Antwerp

2009-03-23T13:43:00.001-04:00

Climbing Notre Dame -- Part II

2009-03-23T13:35:00.002-04:00

Climbing Notre Dame -- Part I

2009-03-23T13:27:00.002-04:00

more from the Louvre

2009-03-23T13:23:00.001-04:00

Ghost sculptures of the Louvre

2009-03-23T13:13:00.001-04:00

La Defense

2009-03-23T13:07:00.003-04:00

The Tango Lesson

2009-03-23T12:56:00.001-04:00

Thanks to youtube. I found the scene from The Tango Lesson mentioned above, -- but unfortunately dubbed into Italian -- as well as this scene, which is one of my favorites in the film, because it epitomizes for me the relationship between Pablo and Sally -- not dubbed into Italian.

Saint Suplice

2009-03-23T12:20:00.005-04:00

Saint Suplice is known for its organ. After 10:30am mass each Sunday, the organist plays a free 25 minute concert. Following that a small side door is opened up to the left of the organ, and you can walk upstairs, see some of the pipes and pedals and gaze down on the sanctuary. This, then, is how I spent my Sunday morning.

The above (Jacob wrestling the "angel"), from the left wall of one of the side chapels at Saint Suplice, was painted by Eugene Delacroix and is featured in The Tango Lesson, which is a wonderful film about love, friendship, dancing, filmmaking, art and desire, written by, directed by and starring Sally Potter. Check out the trailer on the website.

"I learned that pleasure--taken to its extremity--becomes work. And work--taken to its extremity--becomes love. This is why The Tango Lesson, which started as a desire to make a film about the joy of dance, became a story about the complexity of love." -- Sally Potter

Here are the pipes for the organ.

Barbed Wired Kisses

2009-03-06T17:38:00.007-05:00

I believe I've mentioned before that possibly my favorite album of all time is The Jesus and Mary Chain's Barbed Wired Kisses, which is brilliant, way too sexy and, alas, out of print. My vinyl copy sits alone in my mother's apartment. How I miss it.

Some blessed souls have posted some of the tracks on youtube recently.

1. Who Do you Love?
2. Everything's Alright When you're Down
3. Happy Place
4. On the Wall
5. Don't Ever Change

I love all these songs.

Happy Valentine's Day -- a Vocabulary of Love

2009-02-20T07:32:00.006-05:00

I've written before of my strong suspicion that each "love" is its own genus and thus the word love, in and of itself, doesn't really convey all that much. But I admit that's a cop out if taken as an excuse for a) never using the term (given that there's no other term in sight to replace it) and/or b) for using it indiscriminately. I therefore propose to make an attempt to define my terms a bit better, so that at least we can have some sort of working vocabulary with which to attempt to communicate with each other our finer and more complicated to explain feelings. And thus I present to you, oh astute reader mine, yhn's belated Valentine's Day dictionary o' love, a work in progress. Comments are welcome, as always.

Let's start by attempting to define some common terms:

1. love -- I waxed poetical on this one at some point in the past. The most diverse things get described by this one term. How is it possible that I love my cat, my mom, my best friend, God, sushi and Social Distortion's cover of "Ring of Fire" all with the same term? I thought to say that "love" in this sense means extreme, out of the ordinary affection. So, of all the persons in the world, there are some for whom we have extreme, out of the ordinary affection and those we say that we love. Of all the foods, pieces of music, etc... You get the idea.

Potential difficulty with this definition: I do love some people with an extreme and out of the ordinary affection, but I also just love people in general. And, in point of fact, the same can probably be said for food. There are some foods (and even a few people) I do not particularly like, but I have been known to report in the past that "I love people" and "I love food."

If I were going to reply to this objection (being the good Medieval philosopher-theologian that I am), I suppose I would say that you can have extreme and out of the ordinary affection for a genus, as compared to other genera, and this accounts for loving food or people in general. And this doesn't mean you love every individual contained under the genus. You could also have exceptional affection for a species or an individual within a genus as compared to other members of that genus or species, say loving vegetables or people who can juggle or loving broccoli or your next door neighbor who may or may not happen to be able to juggle.

For the moment let's keep this as a working definition.

2. in love -- This must be the stickiest of all "love" terms. It's the one term you think you would want to understand and convey most accurately, and yet it's the one that tends to get used most indiscriminately. I have friends who "fall in love" with bizarrely disturbing frequency, and then there are people like me, who are prone to lie awake at night wondering if they've ever really been "in love," and if so, how would you know? The former tend to say "in love" when they really mean "infatuated," which I regard as extremely disturbing for a number of reasons, principal among them being 1) infatuation is a good English word that does not suffer under the ambiguity that the phrase "in love" does. So if infatuation is what you mean, why don't you just use that word? 2) Infatuation, I suppose, does count as a type of extreme and out of the ordinary affection. If it weren't that I suppose it would be merely equivalent to lust. Lust is a biological reaction that doesn't take the object of lust's individuality into account. Infatuation is attraction that stems not merely from a person's physical self but also, at least at its better moments, from an appreciation of who the objet d'infatuation actually is. Maybe a working definition for infatuation would be "early stage romantic attraction." It's the bubbly feeling you get when you can't stop staring at that person you're just getting to know and appreciate (which, by the way, can be really distracting when you're trying to have a serious conversation with said person). This too is complicated, because there is also "late stage/mature romantic attraction," and it feels very much like "early stage romantic attraction," only it occurs simultaneously with actually loving that person in a way that is not really accounted for under the first definition of "love." It is not really separable from that deeper kind of love, and, I should note, it is improved greatly by it. Difficulty arises, then, when someone falls for the completely fallacious idea that "early stage romantic attraction"/infatuation and "late stage/mature romantic attraction" are actually the same thing. So, they thing they are in love when really they are just infatuated.

It now appears that "in love" ought to be more properly defined as "late stage/mature romantic attraction" combined with mature love (as opposed to love as defined in 1) ). This means I need to define "mature love." (NB: You might reasonably ask why I don't just say that "in love" in its true definition is simply equivalent to late stage/mature romantic attraction, since I said you can't have mature romantic attraction without mature love. So, by saying it's mature romantic attraction plus mature love, aren't I just being redundant? I don't think so, though. I'm attempting to make a distinction. It is quite possible to have a mature love for someone you aren't "in love" with (parents and children would be the obvious and prime example), and it is also possible to be in love with someone without actively feeling attracted to them all the time. Thus, I wanted to put the focus on the necessity for mature love without discounting the role of attraction or the enhanced quality that mature love adds to that attraction.)

3. mature love -- If there's a formula for this type of love it must be love, as defined in 1), plus growth/deepening over time, plus commitment. I am pretty sure it is impossible to love food with a mature love, if for no other reason than because of the kind of commitment that mature love requires. I suspect that a human person can only experience this sort of love for another person or for God. I was trying to figure out whether I love my cat with a mature love. We certainly have time and mutual experience in our favor, and I am very much committed to her. I consider myself responsible for her welfare and would do anything in my power to secure and promote her welfare. But somehow even that doesn't seem like enough.

What's lacking? I don't think it's reciprocity, not wholly that anyway. I have friends who I love deeply, to whom I am fully committed and have been for a long time, although they, for whatever reason, are not able to reciprocate in kind. And from a theological point of view, I wouldn't want to say that God does not love individuals with a mature love, even though any number of them completely fail to reciprocate. What then is required? Communication and the possibility of reciprocity, perhaps. I communicate with my cat, and she loves me back insofar as she as is able, but she is not capable of the sort of commitment or reciprocity that seems required. Let's call the way I love my cat, and possibly the way God loves most (some might argue all) creatures, and possibly the way that a human being could love another who is severely developmently disabled, "simple love." This is closely related to mature love, but it is of an unconditional variety, because it knows that mutuality (equality?) of love is impossible under the circumstances.

I then call mature love - simple love plus the possibility of and actively working towards true communication and reciprocity -- which I view as an essential attribute of growth over time.

Addendum: I do think it is possible to be truly "in love" with someone (that's "truly" as opposed to in the comparatively superficial infatuation-related sense) without that person fully reciprocating. But as soon as a point is reached where one or both parties are unable to grow together, to communicate, and/or to commit any further, at exactly that point and in that aspect the love will stagnate or stall. I suppose this is why people are always saying real love takes work. Note also that such a love may stall, for weeks or months or years, without it necessarily ceasing to be mature love, particularly where at least one party remains as committed to the relationship as ever (it is possible to be committed to a relationship overall even if you are unable to communicate and/or unable to commit in one or more specific areas). Can you have a mature love for someone who does not love you with a mature love? I think so; yes.

vote now

2009-02-10T07:59:00.000-05:00

funny ha ha as opposed to funny

a) strange
b) weird
c) peculiar

Alternative Careers for Medieval Philosophers Named Francie

2009-02-07T06:45:00.004-05:00

1. children's book author
2. critically acclaimed impoverished poet and translator of Baudelaire
3. acupuncturist
4. bookseller
5. children's librarian
6. therapist
7. film critic
8. Eliot scholar
9. barista
10. sarcastic waitstaff
11. one-hit wonder
12. go-go dancer
13. professional lady in waiting
14. conversation piece

P. S.

2009-01-11T14:24:00.002-05:00

If any of you bothered to watch the clip from "Bela Lugosi's Dead" and are curious about the entire song and/or the point of the video, here is the opening sequence from The Hunger, from which that video was taken in modified form. WARNING: Please, please, please do not watch the clip if you have a problem with graphic displays of sex and/or violence (the monkeys, by the way, figure prominently in the film as a whole. Don't get confused by their presence in this scene; it makes sense in context of the film as a whole).

The Hunger, by the way, has the dubious honor of being the only vampire film that I have been unable to finish watching. To this day I have not seen the end, and that, by the way, had more to do with the scenes with the monkeys than with the vampirism -- and with other things about the film that I won't mention for fear of giving it away.

Here's a live performance of the song.

Someday I'm going to post a great big confessional post about my vampire fetish and the love/hate relationship I have with said fetish.

random songs I liked in high school -- aka fun with youtube

2009-01-11T12:44:00.007-05:00

random songs I enjoyed in high school

1. Christine
2. Or how about a little Bauhaus? That was the short version, by the way.
3. or in a slightly more wholesome vain... (The fact that I still love this song so much just proves what a great big cheeseball I truly am).
4. Remember this? It was ninth grade for me.
5. Or here's another cheeseball slightly embarrassing one. I don't know why, but this song used to make me really happy.
6. but to prove that I do have better taste than that... This is from Sinead O'Connor's first album. the first track on an album that I used to play over and over.
7. Here's the last (and my favorite) track from another album I used to play over and over (I don't like this version as much as the album version though).

Okay, I'm almost done, but I have to end with a couple more songs from albums I used to play over and over:

8. the song I played most often from an album I played over and over again in eighth grade. (It's about God). Check out Bono's hair.
9. And yes, this was my favorite song in ninth grade. So sue me.
10. Then in tenth grade: I discovered The Smiths. This is the first Smiths song I fell in love with. But this was my favorite. Wow; it's been a long time since I really listened to the Smiths. Makes me want to listen to Hatful of Hollow: "Fifteen minutes with you/ Well, I wouldn't say no."

brief note on the efficiency of the postal service

2009-01-08T10:56:00.003-05:00

This is just one of those minor occurrences that keeps life amusing for me:

Today I had a "not deliverable as addressed/return to sender" letter returned to me, the sender, via the post.

Said letter was originally post-marked in March of 2008.

It would be much too easy to make a witty/snide comment about this situation, so I shall just leave it as is. Feel free to come up with a witty/snide comment of your own -- and to post it here, should you feel so inclined.

Happy pensive New Year post #2: resolutions

2009-01-03T03:23:00.002-05:00

My friend, the irrepressible Niki, is the power-mistress of New Year's resolutions. She resolves early, records promptly, manages not to lose the record before the end of the year, and reports her progress from the previous year. (If I weren't so lazy, I'd link to her recent resolutions post).

Your humble narrator, on the other hand, is not so gifted in this area. I seem always to be resolving to do the same three things that I ought to be doing already. I have no shortage of will power and a dearth of self-control. And I can whole-heartedly inform you that this is not a good combination. It's not so nice to have an excess of will when your will refuses to be guided by your brain (see Plato's Phaedrus and/or a certain post I wrote somewhere around this time last year).

Recently, I've been musing about my general lack of self-confidence and what a barrier it is to my ever managing to get anything done. Many (the majority, I would imagine) of the things I would most like to change about myself are things that hinge on exactly this issue. Since I don't know how to fix the problem, I usually deal with it by trying to impose structure on my life, but I then proceed to sabotage myself from within, thanks to my own lack of self-confidence, fear of failure and aforementioned dearth of self-control. But I don't know that there's anything I can do to fix these three things; I suspect I'll always struggle with just these three issues.

The best I can do is to try and accomplish something that might stand to build my self-confidence and to strengthen my self-control by forcing me to be self-controlled along the way. The problem, of course, is that the attempt to do this usually ends up looking very much like trying to impose external structure. And, as I just noted, that hasn't worked so well in the past.

Nonetheless, try, try and try again, right? In the name of perseverance, I hereby resolve...

1. start exercising on a regular basis (something I enjoy doing that I have gotten out of the habit of)
2. go on a diet beginning Monday, January 5
3. make a major decision in January
4. work at least 40 hours per week
5. put bi-weekly progress reports on my blog, at least until I have accomplished #3 and gotten into a good routine with 1, 2 and 4. After that, monthly or bi-monthly reports should be sufficient.

I tried something like this once before and it didn't go well. Let us hope for greater things in the new year.

yours in 2009,
yhn

Happy pensive New Year's -- post 1: 5 best things about 2008

2009-01-03T03:09:00.004-05:00

(in no particular order and limited to things that were new to yhn in 2008)

1. walking to St. James/Santiago de Compostela
2. Jake
3. Freya
4. figuring out what was wrong with me all this time (God bless self-diagnosis)
5. that I managed to survive December 2007-January 2008 (actually, it was late November to early February, but we needn't be so nitpicky about it)

Camille Claudel

2008-12-29T16:55:00.003-05:00

passions
born of fingers blind as earth,
endless dreams of clay;
subtle fingers that,
soiled in the morning,
learn their holy art
on the sacred easel
of your forehead,
your eyes, nose,
the bones at your cheeks.

These palms,
forever stained
by muddy lovemaking,
have known the tone of your palms,
your caressing palms
that mold the bone at my shoulder.

Let the valley
that curves along my waiting spine
become your willing palette
once more.

Know me; I am your pocket;
touch me; I am your future and your past,
believed for an instant
and held for a time,
with palms and hip bones and tresses,
sweep of the neck,
hollow of the thigh.

How my haunted memory
sculpts the scruff of your well-worn face,
these unclothed moments
that chip away like plaster.

“I sleep naked as if you were here,
but when I wake up it isn’t the same.”

why I never ask questions (sequel to the five love languages)

2008-12-17T03:05:00.004-05:00

If I both care about someone and trust them, I want to know them. The more they tell me about themselves, particularly if I feel comfortable and safe enough to reciprocate in kind, the happier I am and the closer I feel to them. Of course, I don't just want to know what they happened to eat for breakfast yesterday; I want to know what they think about late at night, what (and who) matters most to them, what they are afraid of, how their personal history has shaped them, what they feel and think about all manner of important subjects, etc., etc. If they also want to talk about their breakfast habits, that's fine too. It's also part of who they are, so why not?

But I am not generally an asker of questions. I just listen. I will sit there and want to know more about this person, this situation, this idea or that feeling, but most of the time it won't even occur to me to ask (unless I'm in helpful, let's analyze your problem mode -- that's another matter entirely and one of my default positions in conversations with friends. Then I ask questions of a more clinical nature -- not in order to know the other person, but in order to help them understand themselves). I just sit there and hope they keep talking. Somewhat rarely, I will actually frame a question in my mind, but more often than not I won't ask it.

Why?:

I don't want to intrude. I want to know but only if they want to share it with me. I want to hear it spontaneously and out of their own free will, rather than coerced out of them by yours truly. I'm very private with my own emotions and personal reminiscences (the things that matter most are the things I am least likely to discuss (outside of written form, anyway)), and I don't like to be asked personal questions (or for that matter, almost any questions) by individuals who haven't earned the right to ask.

Simply put, I regard being asked a question -- anything from "Why did you do that?" to "Where are you going?" to "What are your greatest hopes and fears?" -- as an invasion of my personal space if it isn't asked in the right way by the right person and under the right circumstances.

I think a sign of true trust and intimacy for me would be the ability to ask questions without censoring myself. When I think about it, I realize that I'm even more guarded with questions than I am with sharing myself. That's because I know my own reactions, motivations and inhibitions when it comes to self-sharing. I don't know what the other person will consider in or out of bounds or what they really do or do not want to share with me. I also don't enjoy coming up against other people's walls, the parts they won't share with anyone, not even themselves.

Maybe this ought to be my New Year's resolution. Become a person who is able to ask questions of the people she loves and trusts most, not just clinical questions designed to help them, informational questions designed to know them better.

This will not come to me easily.

more on the five love languages

2008-12-16T13:19:00.005-05:00

Thanks to Quixotic Healer (see comment section of previous post), I was intrigued enough to actually look up some information on the five love languages. I found two quizzes on the internet. Both asked you to answer questions with your spouse in mind, but since I have no spouse, I substituted other people who I happen to care about, liberally mixed in with my own general preference.

My score for each quiz (possible score for the first quiz = 0-12; possible score for the second = 5-25):

1) physical touch -- 12; 23
2) quality time -- 9; 21
3) words of affirmation -- 4; 10
4) acts of service -- 3; 12
5) receiving gifts -- 2; 9

And this is from the official five love languages website (again -- it's geared to a marriage relationship -- alas):

"Quality Time
Quality time is more than mere proximity. It’s about focusing all your energy on your mate. A husband watching sports while talking to his wife is NOT quality time. Unless all of your attention is focused on your mate, even an intimate dinner for two can come and go without a minute of quality time being shared.

Quality conversation is very important in a healthy relationship. It involves sharing experiences, thoughts, feelings and desires in a friendly, uninterrupted context. A good mate will not only listen, but offer advice and respond to assure their mate they are truly listening. Many mates don’t expect you to solve their problems. They need a sympathetic listener.

An important aspect of quality conversation is self-revelation. In order for you to communicate with your mate, you must also be in tune with your inner emotions. Only when you understand your emotions and inner feelings will you then be able to share quality conversation, and quality time with your mate.

Quality activities are a very important part of quality time. Many mates feel most loved when they spend physical time together, doing activities that they love to do. Spending time together will bring a couple closer, and, in the years to come, will fill up a memory bank that you can reminisce about in the future.
Whether it’s sitting on the couch and having a brief conversation or playing together in a tennis league, quality time is a love language that is shared by many. Setting aside focused time with your mate will ensure a happy marriage."

Kind of cheesily written, I know, but it does clearly explain why I would get a 9 out of 12/ 21 out of 25 on this one. It's true that I feel close to someone if they tell me about themselves and share with me the things that matter to them most (whether stories, activities, or even people (It means a lot to me when the people I care about want me to meet the people they care about; it means they want to share with me what/who matters to them)). I also feel closer to someone after I've shared myself in this way. The focus here is on "quality" more than on "time." This, then, also explains my immense frustration when I spend time with someone and we don't do or say anything meaningful. In fact, it appears similar to my frustration with forms of touch that are purely social-cultural. I have this deep subconscious feeling that I should feel loved by someone when I spend one-on-one time with them and I should be able to express myself with them, and then I don't feel that we communicate at all. This is so, so frustrating and is actually a good explanation of a huge chunk of my frustration with my family, from childhood all the way up to the present. It's like a language that ought to communicate deeply and instead you just get a bunch of pointless babbling. It's the same reason I don't like to be touched in pointless ways (like using a profound language to do nothing but talk about the weather).

I also find it interesting that gift giving is fifth on the list for me, given that I'm pretty sure this is my mother's primary love language.

And finally, on another note: this from the blurb on physical touch: "All marriages will experience crisis. In these cases, physical touch is very important. In a crisis situation, a hug can communicate an immense amount of love for that person. A person whose primary love language is physical touch would much rather have you hold them and be silent than offer any advice." -- I find this interesting, because although I'm not usually one to gender-stereotype, I've always thought of this as a gender thing. You know, guys always think you want advice when really you ("you" being female in this scenario) just want to state your feelings and then sit there in silence and be held (come to think of it, if it's something really bad, I would probably want to skip the part where I talk about it and go right to the sitting in silence).

five love languages

2008-12-15T14:14:00.004-05:00

Disclaimer: yhn has never read The Five Love Languages book, or any of the other books that have followed in its footsteps, and she should in no way be deemed an expert on this topic.

The premise behind The Five Love Languages, I am told, is that different people experience and express love in different ways. Knowing your own love language and that of your partner, spouse, child, friend, etc. can serve to foster communication by helping you to express your love in a way that the other person will perceive as loving and by enabling you to understand what actions and/or words the other person intends as an indicator of their own love for you.

The five love languages are: 1) service, 2) words of affirmation, 3) gift giving, 4) physical touch, and 5) spending time together.

two brief observations:

1) "Spending time together" is the love language I grew up with. It is not necessarily the primary love language of any my family members (though perhaps it is my dad's; I think "gift giving" is my mom's primary love language), but it is somehow the one we ended up with as most common ground. I used to think this was my secondary love language. It probably is. But I don't like spending time with someone just for the sake of spending time. Actually, I hate it. Long conversations are great if we can discuss something important, trade stories or make each other laugh. But small talk I hate, and sitting in front of the television watching junk just for the sake of sitting in front of the television, is something I loathe. Nor do I particularly like sitting in the same room with someone simply for the sake of sitting in the same room.

2) My primary language is, 100% without a doubt, physical touch. This may sound strange to some (while others are thinking, "well, duh"), as I'm often told I'm unusually reserved physically. But that's wholly because touch is my primary love language. I hate all purely cultural forms of it. That's why I'll never be one to hug and kiss everyone in a room hello or goodbye. Even as a kid, I hated all those songs that came with requisite hand and body motions; I always refused to do the hand motions when we sang those songs at camp. And yet I've always loved to dance; it's just the proscribed motions I hate. The spontaneous and natural ones are another matter entirely.

Related topic (related in my brain that is -- I doubt anyone else would immediately consider it related) to be discussed later.

2008-12-14T12:54:00.003-05:00

so many anciently papered billboards
layered on layer on layer
are these words I've wished to whisper,
these dreams I'd yet strive to remember
if first I might hope
to forget

your heartbeat

more regular-rhythmic than some jazzman's metronome,
more subversive,
more eloquent,
more insistent,
ephemeral,
sublime
and

my fearful innocent shoulder
unashamedly pulsing your pulse,
this stubborn obedient heart
betraying me in an instant.

I'll look any way but this.

I'll pretend not to notice, I will.

(Thwarted glances fight to subvert,
but words alone write the lies).

Fine.
Just go ahead, then.
Don't worry;
don't think to be so shy.

Claw and peel away, if you dare to;
strip into jagged paper shreds
this poem beneath a poem,
an ad for some florid-smelling detergent,
stupid public service announcement touting virginity,
promo for some damn chick flick date movie --
sad places I'd never admit.

Go ahead and start, why don't you?

Strip and peel away
like fingernails
kindly furrowed into freshly borrowed skin,
layer beyond layer beyond layer

till the meaning beyond the meaning beneath the words
lies uncovered.

At the last,
my love,
when I'm naked
beneath the confetti of an uncertain past,

nothing may remain for us except

embrace.

hands

2008-12-01T09:14:00.004-05:00

I have an assignment for you, oh readers mine. My casual web search has proved fruitless, so I've settled on plan B, which is surveying you, the readership.

So, here's what I want to know: the role of the hands in fostering sexual attraction.

Being the strange Psychology Today type of girl that I am, I have, of course, read up on the relationship between pheromones and sexual attraction. Research suggests that women subconsciously identify genetic similarity or dissimilarity via scent and are inevitably attracted to men who have a genetic make-up as dissimilar to their own as possible (interestingly enough, women on the pill lose this ability and tend to prefer guys who smell familiar). Yours truly has an unusually poor sense of smell, but perhaps because of that very reason, I have noticed that when I'm sexually aroused my sense of smell is more acute.

But I experience something similar with hands. I'm not some sort of hand fetishist; I don't go around staring at guys' hands. It might, on some rare occasion, occur to me that some guy has nice hands, but not nearly so often as I would notice someone's eyes, their nose, or even their legs. But if I am strongly attracted to someone, I seem to be unreasonably drawn to their hands. And I can't explain why.

There are a couple potential biological explanations. The first corresponds to the issue of pheromones. Apparently, the hands have a higher concentration of scent glands than almost anyplace else on the human body.

The second also corresponds to the pheromone discussion, insofar as scent is taken to be a subconscious indicator of biological properties that indicate potential health and survival rate of offspring. In recent years, there's been a good deal of research on finger ratios as indicators of prenatal testosterone levels. Finger ratios have been linked to everything from musical and mathematical abilities to aggressiveness to likelihood of autism and hyperactivity. Apparently, women who have longer ring fingers are much more likely to be lesbians. Men who have longer index fingers are more emotional and sensitive than average. So, perhaps the hand thing is another one of those subconscious ways of analyzing a potential mate. Or not.

There is a third alternative explanation I came up with, but it has more to do with my own psyche and less to do with biology, so I'll refrain from discussing it here.

So, the question is, "Is this one of those weird Francie things or does anyone else have a similar experience?" Any thoughts on the matter?

mood music

2008-11-16T12:12:00.002-05:00

Do you ever get a song stuck in your head and then suddenly realize that it perfectly explains your mood? Sometimes I don't even exactly know what mood I am in, until suddenly I find myself singing it. Here it is.

P. S. -- That would be the second song on the video, by the way.

Francie's dating advice 101

2008-11-08T09:54:00.009-05:00

So, sometimes, owing to some strange combination of detached amusement and morbid curiosity, I read random relationship how-to articles on the internet (I don't seek them out, mind you; they just announce themselves to me when I go on yahoo to check my e-mail). Today I noticed one that intrigued me, because it was addressed to the male of the species rather than the female.

Therefore, oh reader mine, I propose, for your entertainment and enlightenment, to give a line by line commentary of said article.

DISCLAIMER: The management of this blog admits that she does not particularly like dating all that much, a fact which may or may not skew her views on the subject

The first date can be a disaster if you do it wrong. From the predate to the follow-up, keep in mind this six-step dating guide on how to do it right.
1. The Predate

* Dress for the occasion, but more important, dress to show respect. Reminder: It's still better to overdress. Here's the first mistake. The truth is that all guys look much more attractive in jeans and a t-shirt than they do in a suit. Avoid suits at all costs, especially pinstripes. And ties, I would like to remind you, were invented as convenient napkins, so that slovenly turkey leg gnawing nobles would have something to wipe the meat juice out of their beards. Don't wear a tie unless you happen to be going someplace that requires you to wear a tux. (Tuxes, by the way, are the one type of suit in which men look attractive -- but not a white tux, and please, on point of death, avoid ruffles and matching cumberbunds). If you must dress up a bit, may I suggest a black turtleneck sweater, possibly with a jacket. This works well if you happen to have dark hair and a goatee (but please not a soul patch) and/or if you are planning to recite French symbolist poetry to your lady love during the course of the evening (and if so, God bless you, my boy).
* Easy on the cologne. Avoid novelty ties. -- Skip the cologne entirely. Men's cologne is gross. Also avoid strong smelling soap and that deodorant that smells all mentholy. For ties, see above.

2. The Pickup

* Be on time. -- I would say be between 10 minutes early and 10 minutes late, but adjust it to the girl as well. If she's one of those people who's always late, you should know that she spent the last hour (if she likes you) trying on the same two or three dresses over and over again. If you show up too early, she won't be ready. If she's like me, she tried to pace herself to make sure she wasn't ready too early, but if you're late she'll be sitting there vaguely wondering if maybe you stood her up (again, that's assuming she likes you)
* Go to the door.
* Do not bring flowers -- it's outdated. You may, however, bring a small, thoughtful gift that you did not purchase from Wicks 'n' Sticks or B. Dalton Bookseller. Actually, we only pretend not to like flowers. Even though it's cheesy, we're secretly endeared when you show up with them. But not a dozen long-stemmed roses in a box. Things you definitely shouldn't bring: a novelty teddy bear, a heart-shaped box of chocolates, a photo of yourself. Lingerie would probably also be in poor taste. An engagement ring would probably also be ill-advised for a first date.

3. The Drive

* If you're taking a cab, you should open the door for her, give the directions, and pay. Don't take a cab. Buses and trains go pretty much everywhere cabs go. And don't open the door for her either. She can open her own door.
* While amusing, avoid that bit where you go and then stop and pretend to drive away without her. But pretending to slam your finger in the door -- that one's always funny.
* No music -- try talking.
* If you find the ensuing silence unbearable, you may put on music, but avoid the following: a) talk radio; b) anything in which R. Kelly describes something overtly about intimacy; c) playlists consisting entirely of songs that feature her name. Talking is okay if it's a program on NPR.

4. The Restaurant

* Open the door for her. In case of revolving doors, you go first. -- Stop opening doors already.
* Wait until she's seated to take your seat. At fancier joints, it's the waiter's job to help her with her chair, not yours. -- Please. Get over yourself. These are just the kind of gestures that make a potentially awkward social situation much more awkward. Just treat her like a normal human being who's capable of pulling out her own chair. And for that matter, avoid restaurants where the waiter pulls the chair out for you. Your humble narrator really hates that.
* Never order for her. And never present a coupon to the waiter while saying, "And the lady will have something of equal or lesser value."
* Sharing food: If she suggests it, you're doing it. No; no; and decidedly no. Have a spine and your own set of opinions, please. If she asks if you want to share something, and you don't want to, say you don't want to. Insincerity of any kind -- which includes pretending to want what she wants when you don't is just about the biggest turn off ever, and the death knell for any potential relationship.
* Pay. If she offers to help, say something sincere like, "It's my pleasure," not something you think is witty, like, "I'll consider this a down payment for later, if you know what I mean!" Personally, I have to really like a guy to be completely okay with him paying. If he really, really wants to, I'll let him, but it makes me feel uncomfortable, especially if I don't know him well. If she seems very sincere about wanting to pay, maybe you could offer to let her pay the tip. Or let her take you out for coffee after dinner. Or tell her this time you're taking her out; she can pay next time.

5. The Walk

* Walk at her pace. Just walk however seems natural, just like you would walk down the street with any of your friends.
* Tradition dictates that you should walk on the outside of her to avoid puddle splashes and runaway carriages, but feel free to disregard this unless your date takes place in Colonial Williamsburg (not advised). What's wrong with Colonial Williamsburg? I think that would actually make a nice first date.
* Offer her your arm. It's chivalrous and also a good way to initiate contact. Yuck, yuck, and double yuck. Holding hands is pleasant (where there's mutual affection, of course); taking the arm, not so much.
* Be a man. Make your move. May God be with you.
* You're not going inside. Unless she suggests it.

6. Following Up

* No texting. Call the next day. Two days, tops. Even if I had a phone, I think I'd prefer an e-mail.
* If she answers the phone, thank her for a great night and schedule a second date.
* If you get voice mail, thank her and ask her to call you back.
* If she answers the phone "Sam's Pizza" and pretends you've got the wrong number, all bets are off. Either that or she's flirting with you. You'll be able to tell the difference when she says, "But hey, sailor, you have a nice voice. What are you doing later this evening?" or something equally witty.

Things I have and haven't done -- Part II: things I have done

2008-10-27T08:52:00.002-04:00

things I did in my childhood and youth (= pre-college):

1. slow danced
2. walked in the rain with a stranger (who gave me a lesson in the fine art of long distance spitting)
3. written an anonymous love poem and stuck it in a boy's desk
4. kissed a boy good night
5. hyperventilated after I hugged someone
6. climbed a tree
7. recited the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet while leaning out a window
8. held hands with someone I was supposedly trying to set up with somebody else
9. listened to the same person's heartbeat, while the rain fell on the cobblestone street outside
10. been unable to stop laughing in the middle of class
11. spent all of class reading an unrelated book (and had a book confiscated for the same reason)
12. been somebody else's cover-up alibi
13. danced in a public hallway to music that played only in the heads of myself and the person I was dancing with
14. fell off the back of a slow-moving vehicle
15. decorated a dorm room with garbage
16. pierced my own ear
17. built an ice cave with a friend
18. burned pages of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar as a protest against the state of the universe
19. cut myself with a razor
20. rolled down a hill
21. won a dance contest
22. received an amorous handmade Valentine card from a lesbian (I didn't know she was a lesbian at the time. We were in the same psychology class, and I just thought it was nice of her to give me a card (with her phone number in it). After that, we hung out a couple times and she confessed to have feelings for me -- which just goes to show that I'm completely clueless, I guess...)

Things I have and haven't done -- Part I: Things I haven't done

2008-10-27T08:28:00.004-04:00

Here's a list of a lot of things that are generally considered to be rites of passage of one sort or another, none of which I have ever done:

I have never:

1. been drunk
2. had a Milwaukee's Best or a Nattie Boh (the cheap beer of Maryland back in the old days, before it became a microbrewery)
3. smoked a cigarette
4. done any illegal drug
5. skipped school (though I did once play hooky from a pep rally)
6. been to a prom
7. been on a date with a high school student
8. stolen anything -- I forgot that this isn't technically true. We used to amuse ourselves by inventing clever ways to steal popsicles from the dining hall.
9. cheated on an exam
10. played quarters
11. been to a high school sporting event
12. played spin the bottle
13. played kissing tag (though we did once play bite tag at the creative writing program I went to in high school)
14. mooned anyone, or toilet papered anyone's yard, or done any number of other things that bored teenagers sometimes do
15. been on a blind date
16. been in a physical fight with anyone other than my sister (and then I was just the recipient -- I never actually fought back)
17. been to a party at someone's parents' house without the knowledge of said parents
18. given anyone the finger
19. done anything stupid on a dare
20. used a legal object as a mind-altering substance (i. e. I've never misused over the counter or prescription medicine, done whip-its, sucked helium, etc.)
21. snuck out of the house
22. made a crank phone call

a girly post about underwear

2008-10-23T12:42:00.006-04:00

So, today I indulged in my favorite guilty material pleasure.

I bought matching underwear.

Now, I firmly believe every girl ought to own matching underwear. As a matter of fact, I still remember my first set. My mom bought it for me when I was fourteen, a brightish medium blue lace (not the color I would have chosen, but I still liked it) with a bow in the middle front. I spent a long time standing in front of the mirror, examining myself in those.

Once upon a time, when I lived in Chicago, that wonderland of worthwhile and affordable thrift stores, I almost never wore a shirt that cost more than $2.00, and I almost always wore a $40 brassiere underneath. That's one of the great things about expensive underwear; it's like having your own little private joke. There's just something satisfying about wearing your rattiest thrift store clothing with your best pair of underwear. I don't know why exactly that's so, but it is.

But the thing I hate about buying underwear in Belgium, is how the sizes differ. Of course the band size is different, because they have the metric system here (like most of the civilized world, thank you). 36 = 80. Okay; not so bad. I can get used to that. But, sigh... the cup sizes are also somewhat smaller. That's just plain not fair. So, now instead of being a 36D, I'm suddenly an 80E? E? That's just plain not fair.

I want a second opinion...

Obama and the plumber, some thoughts

2008-10-17T03:14:00.002-04:00

Not that I ought to be spending my time blogging this morning, but I thought this was important enough to share.

A friend of mine posted this video on facebook. I realize I'm a little slow on the uptake, so many of you may have seen it already. Obama discusses his tax plan with a plumber. Here's what I have to say about his video and the reasons why I think Obama is a better candidate than McCain.

observations:
1. Obama spends over 5.5 minutes answering this guy's question.
2. He has no script or advisor; it is all him speaking.
3. He is articulate.
4. He is respectful.
5. He clearly makes an effort to take into account this guy's situation and not to disparage it.
6. He treats the guy as an equal, who is capable of understanding what he is saying, rather than talking down to him.

analysis:
What do we need in the White House at this moment? A communicator. Yes, the economy is a mess, and domestic policy is a major issue. As for myself, I consider health care to be of seminal importance. But it's also the case that under the present administration, our diplomatic standing in the world has not fared well (to say the least), and -- and here I'll just be flat out honest -- interpret things as you may, but I can't shake the conviction that the Bush administration has not deigned to communicate with anyone on the level of human being to human being. With the rest of the world, they have spoken "Superpower" to "lesser nation," not a good attitude when attempting diplomacy. Within the US, I see the president speaking to his constituency as if they possessed a substandard IQ. Frankly, I have little patience with being talked down to, and so, I think, does the rest of the world. Do I agree with all Obama's policies? No; certainly not. We are certainly not in agreement on the subject of abortion, and I'm rather vehemently pro-life, so that's an important sticking point for me, even though I don't consider it a crucial voting issue (simply because I don't think the laws on it will change, regardless of who wins the election).

But I think we need a president who knows how to talk to people and to respect them as human beings. The whole Obama qua elitist card really bothers me not only because it is a wrongheaded immature campaign tactic, but also because the very reasons that Obama has been labeled as an elitist are some of the very reasons why he ought to be in the White House. He is intelligent, he is articulate, and he is ably to communicate clearly and explain policy in a pressured situation. The flip side of that, ignored by the "elitist" label, is that he does all this without speaking down to anyone. He wouldn't have gotten far as a community organizer on the south side of Chicago if that weren't the case.

And that is all I will say on that matter.
And now I will rest my case and go write a dissertation or something.

economics

2008-10-10T12:29:00.001-04:00

Here's what I have to say about the current economic crisis.

Happy Feast of St. Francis

2008-10-04T13:57:00.000-04:00

I just couldn't let the whole day pass without saying that.

why I love my job

2008-10-01T06:40:00.002-04:00

“From [God’s creation and the manner in which it has been ordered] we may gather that the universe is like a book reflecting, representing, and describing its Maker, the Trinity, at three different levels of expression: as a trace, an image, and a likeness. The aspect of trace is found in every creature; the aspect of image, in the intellectual creatures or rational spirits; the aspect of likeness, only in those who are God-conformed. Through these successive levels, comparable to the rungs of a ladder, the human mind is designed to ascend gradually to the supreme Principle who is God.” – Bonaventure Bagnoregio, Breviloquium, Part II, ch. 12, n. 1, as translated by José le Vinck. (The Works of Bonaventure, Vol. II (Paterson, N. J.: St. Anthony Guild Press, 1963), 104).

O si talem librum invenire possem,
Cuius origo aeterna
Cuius incorruptibilis essentia,
Cuius cognitio vita,
Cuius scriptura indelebilis,
Cuius inspectus desiderabilis,
Cuius doctrina facilis,
Cuius scientia dulcis,
Cuius profunditas imperscrutabilis
Cuius verba inerrabilia
Cuius unum tamen verbum omnia!
Vere, qui hunc invenit librum
inveniet vitam et hauriet salutem a Domino.

- Lignum Vitae n. 46 (VIII, 85a).

Oh, if I could find such a book
the origin of which is eternal,
the essence of which is incorruptible,
the knowledge of which is life,
of which the writing is indelible
and its examination desirable,
of which the teaching is easy
and the knowledge sweet,
the profound depths of which are inscrutable,
with words inerrant,
and within which there is nevertheless, one Word for all.
Truly, he who finds this book
will find life
and will drink in salvation from the Lord.

what makes good art -- part 4

2008-09-26T08:16:00.002-04:00

4. repeat, repeat, and then repeat in a different circumstance

“The spiritual autobiographer struggles with words in an attempt to discover and express God’s truth. The undertaking involves an ‘intolerable wrestle/ With words and meanings,’ [1] and each moment, each new line, becomes another ‘raid on the inarticulate’ [2] as he attempts to discover and convey the meaning behind and beyond words, behind moments encountered in time. Previously assigned meanings, structure, form, juxtaposition of opposites, repetition of words and phrases, and symbolism are all used to try and force language to stretch beyond the common limitations of language, in order to grasp at and articulate truth.” – yhn’s master thesis, 30-31.

“Successive repetition of words and images instills new and more nuanced meanings. Thus, in the Four Quartets, recapitulation of various phrases and motifs creates an ever-developing and transfiguring understanding. In his use of rose-garden imagery, Eliot relies on previous meanings assigned to the image to inform his readers’ understanding of its meanings in his own work; he then develops and transforms its meaning within the context of his own writings. The rose and garden work together as symbol, aiding Eliot in his attempt to use language to get beyond the ordinary sense-defined and reason-bound meanings assigned to language.” – Ibid., 45-46.

[1] T. S. Eliot, East Coker II, 3b-4a.
[2] Ibid., V, 8b.

A word, a phrase, an image, a facial expression, or a tone of voice is repeated in a new context, and the entire corpus of meaning is transformed. Gestures take on new significance; words stretched beyond their ordinary limits break the surface of meaning and pull us with them to a deeper level. Each new word or image or sound becomes incorporated into a new whole that is continually re-evaluated, that is continually reshaping itself.

“When a poet’s mind is perfectly equipped for its work, it is constantly amalgamating disparate experience; the ordinary man’s experience is chaotic, irregular, fragmentary. The latter falls in love, or reads Spinoza, and these two experiences have nothing to do with each other, or with the noise of the typewriter or the smell of cooking; in the mind of the poet these experiences are always forming new wholes.” – T. S. Eliot, “The Metaphysical Poets,” in Selected Essays, 247.

As a poetic technique, T. S. Eliot stole this from Walt Whitman, but in Whitman it was just that, a technique, a way to develop rhythm. In Eliot it becomes a solemn mode of inquiry. Sadly, I haven’t time to develop this theme fully in the here and now (if you’re really interested you can read the section from my thesis that’s posted under the “language” keyword; if you’re really, really interested, I’d be happy to send you an electronic copy of my thesis in toto).

But I am firmly convinced that repetition is powerful stuff. It solidifies memory and triggers memory. It struck me when I was writing down those examples of moments when we’re most aware of the experience of love that many of those moments hinge upon repetition. The story of the woman who brushes away her hair for her lover is pleasant if the event occurs once, but it becomes dyed through with meaning only when it becomes a habitually repeated action, a motif. The fleeting experience defines a moment in time; the motif defines a relationship and invokes the personality/character of its participants for us, the readers of the story. The lover may have his evening, but that isn’t love. Love wants familiarity; love wants repetition. Love is knowing what it means when, without even being conscious of her action, she strokes the back of her earlobe with her index finger and looks at you out of the corner of her eye, while she’s sitting across the table from you at your cousin’s birthday party. And you know what she’s thinking, because you’ve seen her do this so many times in the privacy of your own room.

I am a great fan of the repeated gesture (I suppose that’s why I find that image in the Julian Barnes story so effective). Imagine a film that scans the years of a relationship between two people. Now imagine that at moments of seminal importance portrayed over the course of the film, a concomitant gesture occurs. The friends meet in the park, and a number of important events in the life of their friendship occur in the same park. On their first date, he buys a ring from a dime store vending machine, and she wears it throughout the rest of the film, fingering it at significant moments when she is thinking of him. Now, what’s the last scene of the film? One of the friends has died of cancer, has been killed in the war, has dropped off the face of the earth... or fill in the blank with your own negative melodramatic ending... final shot of the film: the remaining friend sits alone on a bench in that park. He’s died; he’s lied; he’s cheated on her and left her for another women... or fill in the blank with your own melodramatic ending... final scene of the film: She’s leaving on the train, sitting quietly with her hands clasped over a bag in her lap. final shot: a close-up shot of her hands. And maybe she’s still wearing the ring. And maybe she isn’t. If she is, you know she still loves him and has not let go. If she isn’t, you know that she has vowed to forget him (though maybe you believe she will, and maybe you don’t). The thing is that you know all this from a simple close-up shot of her hands. Why? Because repetition of a simple gesture has imbued it with significance, such that you have become able to read the entire situation based on that one simple gesture.

In poetry, we do this by repeating the same word or the same image again and again and then in a different circumstance. In music, it is done with notes. The main theme returns again in the third movement, but now, in a different context, surrounded by a different set of notes and preceded by the second movement, it conveys a markedly different mood. It has been transformed into a different thing entirely.

Repetition, my friends.
It's all about repetition.

personality by US state?

2008-09-23T12:44:00.002-04:00

Check this out. These researchers tabulated over 600,000 personality inventories, and grouped them by U. S. state. The study was based on the Big Five inventory, which compares levels of the following five traits with those of the population at large (at least those members of it who have also taken the test): 1) openness; 2) agreeableness; 3) conscientiousness; 4) extroversion and 5) neuroticism.

Now, it just so happens that I have taken this personality inventory before. So... watch this.

My personal score was:

1) Openness = 98%
This trait refers to the extent to which you prefer novelty versus convention. Approximately 97.7% of respondents have a lower openness raw percentage than yours. From the way you answered the questions, you seem to describe yourself as someone who is far more intellectually curious and sensitive to beauty than most. You might say that your beliefs are individualistic and frequently drift towards the unconventional, and that you enjoy your imagination and the exciting places it takes you!

2) Conscientiousness -- 46%
This trait refers to the extent to which you prefer an organised, or a flexible, approach in life. Approximately 16% of respondents have a lower conscientiousness raw percentage than yours. From the way you answered the questions, you seem to describe yourself as someone who is impulsive and whimsical, and fine with it! From your responses it appears that you would say that sometimes decisions need to be made quickly, and that you make them quicker than most! You would say you are zany, colourful, and just generally great fun to be with... as long as someone isn't relying on you to get some work done.

3) Extraversion -- 38%
This trait refers to the extent to which you enjoy company, and seek excitement and stimulation. Approximately 11.5% of respondents have a lower extraversion raw percentage than yours. From the way you answered the questions, you seem to describe yourself as someone who is quiet and somewhat withdrawn. Your answers describe you as someone who doesn't need lots of other people around to have fun, and can sometimes find that people are tiring.

4) Agreeableness -- 84%
This trait refers to the way you express your opinions and manage relationships. Approximately 91.9% of respondents have a lower agreeableness raw percentage than yours. From the way you answered the questions, you seem to describe yourself as someone who is extremely easy to get along with. Your responses suggest that you would say you are considerate, friendly, generous and helpful and you consider most other people to be thoroughly decent and trustworthy.

5) Neuroticism (Emotional stability) -- 29%
This trait refers to the way you cope with, and respond to, life's demands. Approximately 21% of respondents have a lower neuroticism raw percentage than yours. From the way you answered the questions, you seem to describe yourself as someone who is calm and emotionally stable. Based on your responses, you come across as someone who is rarely bothered by things, and when they do get you down the feeling does not persist for very long.

Now, theoretically that means if I wanted to move to a state that matches my personality, I should pick a state with an openness score within the top 5, a very high agreeableness score and low extroversion, conscientiousness and neuroticism scores. And I should avoid states with openness scores in the bottom 5, low agreeableness scores and high extroversion, conscientiousness and neuroticism scores.

So, that means (drum roll, please...)... I should apparently move to Oregon, and I should avoid spending long periods of time in Alabama.

Who knew?

(Okay; I know this whole thing is not all that scientific... But that doesn't make it any less amusing for yours truly...)

more about love

2008-09-20T03:22:00.004-04:00

So, it occurs to me that although I can in no way define what love is, I can at least give examples of those moments when one is most poignantly aware of it. NB: I do use the word "feel" below, but I don't mean it in the way it's normally used. I don't mean mere fleeting emotion.

1. There's a short story by Julian Barnes that's told from the perspective of a husband who usually goes to bed later than his wife. Each night when he gets into bed, he kisses his wife on the neck, and she will push her hair away from her neck, so that he can do this. The thing is that he's never sure whether she's actually awake when she does this... Until one day she gets her hair cut short. The next night he crawls into bed and leans forward to kiss his wife good night, and with a gesture of her hand she attempts to brush aside her hair where it isn't. It's quite a lovely image. To kiss someone good night while they're sleeping, feeling that swell of emotion because of a habitual gesture that seems to you imbued with meaning. That is a sort of love. And that sort of comfortable and affectionate familiarity that causes that simple gesture to occur somewhere in the land between wakefulness and sleep... That too seems a sort of love.

2. that feeling I get when I walk into my bedroom and gaze at my cat, who is curled up on the bed, sleeping in the sunshine -- or when I happen to look in the mirror while I'm getting ready to go in the morning, and I catch her just sitting there watching me.

3. the feeling you get every time you look at a sleeping baby cradled in your arms

4. when you catch someone you care for giving you that soft "I really like you" look across the table in the middle of an otherwise completely unromantic dinner

5. when my best friend travels halfway across the country and searches the beach to find the perfect rock to bring me back as a souvenir.

6. sitting close to someone in complete silence, while feeling perfectly content with the state of the world

7. being able to laugh with someone without second guessing yourself -- feeling that comfortable with someone, I mean

8. when the weather is just a certain way or some forgotten smell comes wafting on the air, causing you to remember some small moment, some gesture that occurred long ago, and suddenly you find yourself filled to overflowing with the beauty of a moment that occurred long ago, the beauty of a person who may or may not be among your current acquaintances

9. simple domestic moments or seemingly meaningless gestures that become full of beauty and significance -- that moment when watching him brush his teeth becomes the most beautiful thing in the world

10. private jokes and knowing someone's personal history

11. knowing someone else's habits and emotions better even than they know them themselves

love

2008-09-17T09:29:00.003-04:00

Many years ago (just about half my lifetime ago, come to think of it), I took to asking friends and acquaintances if they'd ever been in love, and if they said, "Yes," I would say, "What's it like, and how did you know you were in it?"

I become more and more convinced that each love is truly its own species. Just as each pair of people are unique, so is each love. I used to like to wax poetical on the advantages of Ancient Greek over English, in that the former has several words for "love" where the English has only one. I am revising my opinion on that. I begin to think that the Greek words may get us farther from the truth rather than closer, if we begin to think that we can classify loves into some finite set of categories. I don't believe it. The terms are not wholly without use, but they fall so far short of the reality as to potentially be quite dangerously misleading.

And "in love" is the worse term yet. Some use it to mean "infatuated" in a general sense, as in, "I am so in love with X," where X may or may not be a person. Others use it to signify intense infatuation of a romantic/sexual kind only. And for others, the term is reserved only for interpersonal relationships that partake in the highest level of intimacy. And so one person is "so in love" with a new hobby, a book, an idea or the food he just cleared off his plate, another with the neighbor boy she watches from afar and says hello to in the hall, another with his spouse, and yet another claims to be "so in love with Jesus." How are we ever to express anything when we cast the net so broadly?

But I propose to you, oh gentle readers, mine, that this isn't necessarily the fault of the English language. I believe it's the fault of love itself.

Each love differs from every other, and no one love is constant in itself. It remains the same and yet augments; one day it slaps you in the face, and the next it recedes quietly into the fabric of the furniture, hidden but present, sitting at your back while you're seated on the sofa.

I've said before that one of the few things I'm good at is loving people, but that is and isn't true. I'm good at loving people at a distance. It's much more difficult when you have to do it up close. I'm good at being selfless with a part of myself, if a part of myself can remain relatively uninvolved emotionally. I'm not so good at letting completely go of the reins, or of trusting with no safety net below (yeah I know; it's a mixed metaphor...).

what makes good art -- part 3

2008-09-13T07:27:00.007-04:00

3. exploit the genre and subvert the genre

There’s nothing wrong with genres, really. I used to be an anti-genre snob. You know the type; I believed everything worth reading was located in the literature section of my local bookstore (I mean everything fiction-wise, of course), and if I had to go to one of the genre sections for something I wanted to read, I was embarrassed. If a book I really liked was located in one of the genre sections, I grew indignant (Dracula in the horror section? What are they thinking?).

However, my life as a film nut reconciled me to the idea of genres once and for all. They have their uses, an immediate set of vocabulary that an audience educated in the genre will immediately (if subconsciously – and even better, if subconcsiously) understand.

Now once you have a set vocabulary in any given subject, you can take it one of two directions. You can accept it as is and use it as has been used, and it will become an official jargon. This can be useful if you happen to be, say, a philosopher writing for philosophers and don’t want to have to explain every single term in order to be able to proceed with your argument. If a term is set with a certain definition in a certain context, and you’re writing for people who live and work in that context, there are plenty of circumstances in which you should by all means feel free to simplify your life and just use the term that way.

But much more fun, and certainly more artistically satisfying, is the second option. Take that set vocabulary and play with it; undercut it and play with it just enough that your audience thinks its operating in the same jargoned world that it’s used to, when in fact you’re subtly twisting it and turning it and building on it until they find themselves, quite in spite of themselves, in a wholly different place.

How about a mystery novel where it turns out the detective did it? Maybe in the end it’s the butler who solves the crime; who knows... That's a mundane and cheesy example, I realize. But the point here is that if you subvert the genre well, you'll end up completely surprising and maybe (if you're lucky) even shocking your audience. No one reads a standard detective novel and expects the detective to be guilty. Do it well and there's no way your audience will see it coming; they're so conditioned otherwise. My favorite detective novel genre subversion, by the way, is the one where all the witnesses turn out to be pathological liars, but that sort of thing has been done so much now that it’s almost become trite. That’s the problem with subverting the genre. Sometimes the subversion gets so incorporated into the genre that it becomes an integral part of it to the point of becoming jargoned itself. (This reminds me of Fritz Lang’s masterful film M, an early sound film that makes deliberate and poignant use of sound and silence like no other film I know. An acquaintance of mine told me she didn’t like the film, because the Peter Lorre character was “so stereotypical.” Stereotypical? Only insofar as Peter Lorre’s performance was so perfect and so thorough that others imitated it until it became a stereotype. It’s really a shame that we’re so unable to divorce ourselves from the imitations long enough to be able to see the original with fresh eyes, to tear ourselves from the thoughtlessly jargoned version long enough to appreciate the beauty of its origins. But enough of that soap box...).

My favorite example of genre used to its greatest advantage: film noir, that splendid film genre so serendipitously created by the Hays Code.

The Hays Code, for those of you who are less obsessive students of film history than is your humble narrator, was created in 1930 and enforced beginning 1934, as a reaction to the corruption of Hollywood and the violence and general naughtiness of those early talking pictures, primarily gangster films, but think also some of those great low budget films of bare-breasted sexuality. The censors stomped their big fat fun-killing feet down and the main production companies and theater chains effectively banned all films that were overly explicit in the portrayal of violence, sexuality, drug and/or alcohol use and, perhaps most interestingly, crimes were not allowed to go unsolved and evil was never to be rewarded (the married couples sleeping in separate bed thing was a British censorship rule).

The film noir of the 40s and 50s circumvented the Hays code in the most marvelous ways. Drugs, liquour, sex and violence abound, but it's all portrayed in veiled ways, and I don't just mean that obvious bit where the couple kisses and then the train goes through the tunnel. The best of the film noirs are sensual to the core, much more so than so many of the unimaginatively explicit films we've been bombarded with since. Lighting reveals character in ways that sometimes deny the face value of the script. The girl in the back room keeps lazily putting her hand to her nose while the detective questions her. She's down on her luck and has run out of money, but no one ever uses the word "cocaine." Lo and behold, you sometimes actually have to think to get the subtext of the plot; it's not all spelled out for you as if you had no brain or imagination of your own.

One more example because I love it: The Big Combo. A late noir (1956) and most definitely my favorite

The lighting is superb, plot twists are admirable and it features the best death scene of any movie ever.

There's a great scene where the gangster is standing behind his girlfriend and kisses her on the back of the neck. She's leaning her neck to the side when the gangster himself disappears out of frame. The director fought the censors on the scene and won on the grounds that "it's just a head shot. Nothing's going on. What do you imagine's going on?" A brilliant move -- portray the censor as the naughty-minded one.

Anyway, that's just a general justification for the existence of genres. Where do exploit and subvert come in on that one? Well, "exploit" is clear in the film noir example. That head shot is several times more effective as a scene than a more sexually explicit portrayal would have been. "Subvert"? The Big Combo is noteworthy on this one mainly because the girl is an innocent (usually the heroines of film noir are on-screen vixens who turn out to be criminal to the core -- and they also usually end badly -- that's the no crime unpunished part of the Hays Code). In The Big Combo the girl becomes a central figure because she's basically innocent, and you actually care about her more than you do about the men who surround her. She's not just innocent; she's actually nice -- not jaded at all -- and not clueless either (in the way that the Frances McDormand character is in Blood Simple, for example -- but then that's a neo-noir, and pretty much everyone in that film is clueless).

One more comment on the subject of subverting the genre and the place of such subversion in the creation of good art.

This is The Last Pancake Breakfast, by Dick Detzner. I seem to recall that two artists did similar paintings on this theme, but I don't remember who came first. Now, last supper paintings do seem to have become a sub-genre of religious paintings, and this is clearly an example of subverting the genre. I also confess that I like it. I think it's funny. But is it good art? Hmmm... I think I shall decline to comment and shall let the readers chime in with their no doubt well-formed opinions. Readers?

great moments in geekdom

2008-09-03T02:24:00.002-04:00

things that make me not a geek

1. I never got into Star Trek the Next Generation, or even once watched Deep Space Nine or Battlestar Galactica
2. I don't play video/computer games (except, okay, some years ago I used to play Civilization). But at least I've never played World of Warcraft...
3. My laptop is the only electronic gadget I own. And I've never operated it in DOS.
4. I've never played D&D.
5. I never cared for Doctor Demento, or Weird Al, or...

but why I am a geek anyway

1. I can quote great chunks of Monty Python routines and random lines from Princess Bride and occasional random lines from Star Wars episode IV (or whatever the first released one was). And I have memorized the words to several They Might be Giants songs.
2. Not only do I still have a fondness for Doctor Who, the other day I actually joined an Adric fan group on facebook. I think that alone qualifies me for major geekdom.
3. I am firmly convinced that John Hodgman is a genius.
4. I like bad puns and clever spoonerisms -- a lot.
5. I find this clip to be inspiring. And if you understand why, then you're a geek too.***

*** -- I confess I'm rather impressed that the whole audience is singing along. The song is not one of my favorites, and, needless to say, I know nothing about the game it was written for. That entire audience has completely out-geeked me and then some.

the long life, work and adoption update

2008-08-29T02:29:00.007-04:00

So, when I tell you what I am about to tell you, you will understand why you haven't heard from me in awhile.

First of all, I am in the process of drastically changing my dissertation topic. The text I was working on was not taking me where I needed it to go in order to able to justify working on it within the constraints of the project under which I am being funded. And besides, it was interesting but not particularly inspiring. And inspiring is not the altogether most important thing, but it begins to gain in importance when you've spent the last 19 months of your life working very slowly on a project that hasn't particularly inspired you, and that amongst health concerns and various and sundry disappointments of a personal nature (most of which you long-time blog readers are familiar with), and in the end you have nothing (well, not nothing -- but not a chapter of a dissertation) to show for it. Now I am under a time constraint, because I absolutely must finish in the Fall of 2010, when the project wraps up. And I knew there was no way I could pull myself out of this hole and actually manage to finish in two year's time if I didn't work on something I truly cared about. I recall the month when I wrote my senior essay and the months I spent working on my master's thesis as two of the most enjoyable time periods in my life. But then I cared about what I was writing. It mattered, and I had something to say about it. After 19 months of work, I had not reached anywhere near that point in my dissertation. Every now and then I found something interesting and true, but I never found anything inspiring.

So, I thought and I thought and I thought, and eventually I realized that if I were going to complete this thing, it would have to be Bonaventure. I realized after months and months of effort spent spinning my proverbial wheels and beating myself over the head over what I thought I ought to do, what I thought others wanted me to do, what I thought would be the best use of my skills for posterity's sake -- blah, blah, blah. And then one day I lay down on my sofa in the early afternoon, and I knew without a doubt what it was that I wanted (but had been obstinately ignoring) all along, and, much to my surprise, I started to cry. It's shocking that something can be so fully in front of your face, so obviously right and so obviously what you have really wanted all along, and yet you can miss it completely. My energy was so spent in trying to fulfill my obligations, to do what I thought I ought to do, and to try and please everyone else but myself, that I completely missed out on the one thing that in the long run would be best for everyone involved. Now, after all this time, I see that clearly. It just took me 19 months to get there.

And now, finally, I am in love again with what I do, thanks to the one person who I have truly loved all along (leave it to yours truly to couch it in such terms -- but, hey, it's my blog, and that's the way my mind works). This morning I was reading over some old notes and came across the following quote:

"Scripture first, appealing to faith alone, convinces us that the history of the world is integrally one, and that it is working out from beginning to end like a poem of parts marvellously co-ordinated: and just as a man can see the beauty of a poem only if he can embrace it in its totality in one mental act, so can he see the beauty of the universal order only on the same condition. Scripture makes up for the brief span of our life, which of itself would cut us off from all that is past and all that is to come, by setting before us the whole picture shown in the perfection of its unity.
What holds for the narration of historic facts holds likewise for the understanding of the truths revealed. Every science deals with things or the symbols of things. But if we consider the mass of our knowledge of things and their symbols absolutely and in themselves, it breaks up into a multiplicity of particular and diverse sciences: and this is how pure philosophy sees it. But if we consider the mass of our knowledge from the point of view of faith and theology, all these diverse departments of knowledge receive a unity which of themselves they had not and find their place in the one single Knowledge. Just as all beings are ranged under one single Being and we have one knowledge in one single book, so likewise we have one single science of all the signs of things and all the things signified inasmuch as they are related to God, alpha and omega; and that science is Theology."

-- Etienne Gilson The Philosophy of St. Bonaventure (original -- Le philosophie de saint Bonaventure, 1965) trans. Dom Illtyd Trethowan and Frank J. Sheed (Paterson, N. J.: St. Anthony Guild Press, 1965), 104-105; referencing Bonaventure, Breviloquium Prol., 4; ed. min. 17-18 and I Sent., prooem., I, ad 3-4, t. I, 8.

Eliot would have understood this well, and in fact, this could easily be a section out of the first chapter of my master's thesis (The Moment in the Garden: Spiritual Autobiography and T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets: you can look it up on WorldCat -- available on microfiche, if you dare...). I read this quote this morning, and I actually started to cry. I can't remember the last time something was so beautiful to me that I cried -- actually, I do, come to think of it: I was in Spain. I was walking through the mountains, looking at the scenery and praying. But it's been a very long time since something work-related made me cry like that.

So, Bonaventure. Stay tuned. It is not an official done deal until I turn in a full prospectus with an attendant bibliography, etc. I'm on the way to that but not there yet, and I anticipate one busy week. (Then I need to convince my promoter that this is what I ought to do, and he, in turn, needs to convince my co-promoter -- but that I don't think will be so much of a problem. The real concern is, "Please, God, let there be enough material in Bonaventure to justify my doing this." I think there is enough, but basically have one week to prove that there is).

And that was just the "First of All"...

Secondly...

On September first everyone who hasn't yet received their adoption referral from Viet Nam will be officially babyless, with all their money lost and needless to say, with their hearts battered and hopes dashed. If things had gone well with all my paperwork, I would have been among the 40 or so families working with my (former) agency, who submitted their dossiers to Viet Nam prior to December 1st but who still did not receive a referral. Not a shining day in the history of international adoption. It will be a day of mourning for the whole community.

On my own end, I find myself at a sort of confused impasse. I've been put in contact with a wonderful lady who has been able to instruct me on how to bring ---- home to the states under a student visa. We are extremely hopeful that this would work. Including herself, she knows of four families who have done this successfully, and she was able to advise me in detail. I should be leaping for joy. I should be jumping ahead. By now I should have contacted my contacts in the Ukraine and should even be in one-to-one communication with ----.

But I am not leaping for joy. And I am not jumping ahead. And I have yet to give the okay for my contacts to even speak to ---- and let her know what has been going on all along.

Something is missing. All along I have been guided by my intuition on this one, and all along I have known, despite the outer circumstances, that I have been proceeding as I ought. Two failed adoption attempts and a loss of $7,000 later, I still have the conviction that I have been headed down the right path all along. But I feel very, very strongly that some important piece of the puzzle is yet missing in all this. I am waiting to find out what it is.

An acquaintance of mine, a lawyer who works in Brussels, has been researching whether it is possible to bring ---- to Belgium. She still has some inquiries to make -- some of the people she needs to talk to have been on vacation, so she is in waiting mode (and I am really grateful to her for all the work she is putting into this, purely out of the kindness of her own heart). But things just don't, in any way shape or form, look hopeful for bringing ---- to Belgium under a student visa or the equivalent.

And if it turns out that I can't bring her home to Belgium, this only leaves me with the option of going back to the states and bringing her there. I would have to leave in June or early July of 2009 and then bring her there to be with me.

But I don't want to do this. And I don't feel comfortable to do this. And I don't feel I'm supposed to pick up and leave like this. You see, what I mean. I feel very strongly that this will all work out for the best. And yet, it looks, at the moment, as if the only option is to bring ---- to the states. And I don't feel the least bit released to go to the states.

So, I am feeling confused and more than a bit paralyzed by the situation. And something else that is ever-present in my head but that I can't discuss with you now, in this public forum (believe me, if I could, I would), so you'll just have to settle for all but that one piece of the story/update.

the plagiarism just goes on and on

2008-08-26T14:13:00.003-04:00

Those of you who have been visitors to ye olde blogge for some time now are undoubtedly aware of your humble narrator's noble status as the president and founding member of the Society to Promote Francie's Mating with the Clone of John Hodgman. You may also know that I read John Hodgman's blog (not the clone's blog -- sadly he has no blog, because there is, as yet, no clone. The society, alas, lacks Hodgman cloning powers -- just a small glitch in the works).

In any case, our bespectacled hero has referenced the following blog on his blog. See the posts of August 12th, 13th and 25th, where the astute writer posts love poetry but replaces the word love with "Boston Red Sox Hall of Fame Catcher Carlton Fisk" in one case and "MTV" in another. You get the idea.

Read it for the good for your soul.

love (or possibly Carlton Fisk),
yhn

P. S. -- I haven't forgotten about the "what makes good art" posts. I promise to return with those soon -- and to post an adoption-related update soon. I have been work busy as of late, but fear not; I shall not neglect you, my dear sweet reader, oh sweet lecteur mine.

more shameful plagiarism for your viewing pleasure

2008-08-20T12:56:00.002-04:00

I've gotten out of the habit of watching The Daily Show every day, but just went to their site to see if there were any recent John Hodgman clips. Enjoy (with guest star Jonathan Coulton):

Some flat out plagiarism for your consumption

2008-08-19T15:26:00.003-04:00

I'm housesitting this week in the delightful house of the downstairs dog and the upstairs cat (and the outside chickens, but I try not to think about them), and between visits home to feed and snuggle my own cat, I have been working away to try and meet a deadline on the morrow (more people ought to say that: on the morrow).

During the bus rides between here and town, I started reading The Phantom Tollbooth, a book (by Norman Juster), which should be required reading for all.

Anyway, I just finished commenting on a very lovely paper written by a student/acquaintance of mine and thought I'd read a chapter or two before bed. But the following is so lovely, I just had to share with you, my favorite audience:

"We're having a special treat today," said the king as the delicious smells of homemade pastry filled the banquet hall. "By royal command the pastry chefs have worked all night in the half bakery to make sure that--"

"The half bakery?" questioned Milo.

"Of course, the half bakery," snapped the king. "Where do you think half-baked ideas come from? Now, please don't interrupt. By royal command the pastry chefs have worked all night to --"

"What's a half-baked idea?" asked Milo again.

"Will you be quiet?" growled Azaz angrily; but, before he could begin again, three large serving carts were wheeled into the hall and everyone jumped up to help himself.

"They're very tasty," explained the Humbug, "but they don't always agree with you. Here's one that's very good." He handed it to Milo, and, through the icing and nuts, Milo saw that it said, "THE EARTH IS FLAT."

"People swallowed that one for years," commented the Spelling Bee, "but it's not very popular these days -- d-a-y-s." He picked up a long one that stated "THE MOON IS MADE OF GREEN CHEESE," and hungrily bit off the part that said "CHEESE." Now there's a half-baked idea," he said, smiling.

Milo looked at the great assortment of cakes, which were being eaten almost as quickly as anyone could read them. The count was munching, contentedly on "IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS" and the king was busy slicing one that stated "NIGHT AIR IS BAD AIR."

"I wouldn't eat too many of those if I were you," advised Tock. "They may look good, but you can get terribly sick of them."

"Don't worry," Milo replied. "I'll just wrap one up for later," and he folded his napkin around "EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR THE BEST."

Norman Juster, The Phanton Tollbooth, chapter 7, "The Royal Banquet," (in Dictionopolis, of course), pp. 90-91

what makes good art -- chapter 2

2008-08-13T07:26:00.013-04:00

2. highlight the surreal in the ordinary and the ordinary in the surreal

There’s a lovely photograph by Man Ray that I used to stare at every Tuesday afternoon at the Art Institute of Chicago. It’s a simple black and white photo taken through a shop window (presumably a hair stylist of some sort), rows of stylishly-quaffed mannequin heads. The photo’s taken from an angle, so that they seem to be on just a bit of a slope, and you get a bit of glare from the window. Completely surreal. Completely realistic. How many people walked past that shop window every day without realizing how truly strange of a visage it was?

The most mundane moments of our existence are imbued with the strangest magic, if only we had the eyes to see it – geometrical patterns of staircases, subtle facial expressions that convey thoughts and feelings that seem, on the surface of things, to be completely out of keeping with the setting. The objects we use every day in the most unthinking way are, in fact, imbued with a surreal life all their own.

Another example, also found in the Art Institute of Chicago: the box sets of Joseph Cornell. These are small sculptures that Cornell made, mostly for his sister. The boxes are made of wood sometimes painted black. The contents are ordinary household objects reinvented, a clay bubble pipe, a broken wine glass filled with yellow sand, newspaper clippings placed in a different context. Each new juxtaposition highlights the surreal magic of these small forgotten objects.

Our lives are just like this, it seems to me. The smallest gesture is imbued with the deepest meaning, if only we have eyes to see it. And the most mundane and commonplace experiences of our lives are some of the strangest, if only we stopped to think about it for a moment. An extraordinary photograph, or poem, or film, can bring out this truth for us. Just look at any Diane Arbus photo,

and I think you will know exactly what I mean. Just read any James Thurber story; people are quirky, and their ways and habits are strange.

On the other hand, even amidst the seemingly strangest circumstances, people are very much themselves, and there is an element of the most common, the most ordinary, amidst the most surreal. See, for example, J. K. Rowling. The wizarding world is so different from our own, but in it the people are still just people. This is not only why the world seems believable to us, why we’re able to suspend disbelief; it’s also what makes it so beautiful. Harry is not a machine who has to defeat Voldemort; he’s a kid who worries about exam results and who he will take to the yule ball, especially given that girls always seem to travel in packs, and you can never get one alone to ask (and God forbid he should have to dance), etc., etc.

A girl placed before a firing squad who stoops to tie her shoe or stops to brush her hair from her face in just the last minute of her life is pathos, especially if we know from a previous scene that she habitually does this when she gazes at her lover. Citizen Kane, after all his fame and politicking and money, longs for his childhood sled on his deathbed.

What I mean to say is this: the most ordinary moments and objects are not ordinary or mundane at all. And the most seemingly surreal and extraordinary circumstances are as real and truly human, as ordinary, as brushing your teeth.

P. S. -- The management regrets her lack of expertise in the stealing of images from other websites, and apologizes for any inconvenience her readership may have suffered as a result of the smallness of the Arbus photos and Thurber cartoons. The captions of the Thurber cartoons read as follows: 1) Get down. You look human. 2) I don't know. George got it somewhere. 3)Well, I'm disenchanted too. We're all disenchanted. 4) no caption

2008-08-12T09:46:00.003-04:00

the day moves slowly

I think of you
and brush a teacup brim
side to side along my bottom lip.

the clouds move fast

I think of dilated pupils,
fingers that handle only teacup handles,
eyes that shine for no one,
for everyone,
just not for me alone.

My thoughts race past in slow motion;
every minute
is a mystery.

tonight perhaps I’ll dream
of fingers intertwined,
eyes that shine
without ceasing.

in the morning I will not remember.

how to make good art -- chapter 1

2008-08-06T11:42:00.012-04:00

Welcome to a new segment here on ye olde blogge. I've made a list of nine elements, in no particular order, that contribute to the making of good art. So, this will be a new theme for us during the month of August. I propose to dedicate one post to each of the nine...

The following remarks are the opinion of the management -- and quite possibly... absolutely no one else:

1. use the space and the silence -- It seems we live in a society that hates silence. We go about our lives constantly surrounded by noise -- and not just background noise that's inevitable; I mean noise that's specifically constructed for us, so that we will be able to avoid having to suffer even the smallest shard of silence. Muzak and pop radio in stores and cafes, piano playing softly in the background during prayer time in the church... And why? Why are we so afraid of silence? What do silence and darkness (the visual equivalent of silence) have to teach us? Perhaps silence causes us to be confronted with ourselves. It encourages retrospection, and we live in a society that much prefers flitting from one thing to another to sitting in silence and pondering the state of our own souls. So we pummel everything with noise, give everything a fast-moving soundtrack.

But one of the things good art does is invite retrospection. It hits us in the face with silence. Is it music? Exploit the pause. Is it a painting? Don't splash every space with color. Is it a film? Hold the camera on that spot just a little too long for the comfort of your TV-commercial-trained audience. There's a great scene in Down by Law where the camera lingers just a bit too long on the three inmates (John Lurie, Tom Waits and Roberto Benigni) as they stand with their hands wrapped around the bars of the cell. You expect the scene to cut 5-10 seconds before it actually does, but just those few extra seconds somehow cause the absurdity of the whole situation to be suddenly amplified, and as it begins to sink in, the whole thing just becomes really absurdly funny, uncomfortable and funny at the same time. (I should note that Jarmusch sometimes overdoes the pause trick in his early films, but that doesn't lessen the fact that he sometimes uses it in the most masterful way imaginable).

As someone who's always been somewhat fixated on man's inability to communicate with man and the limitations of human language to describe anything that's truly worth describing, I tend to use silence as a motif to highlight the distance (especially emotional distance) and lack of communication between one person and another. My characters often only say the tip of what they really mean, and you often see them sitting across the table or the room from each other, and you have to read between the silence and the spatial distance to expose what they really feel.

The following is an obvious example:

Come in After the Pause

I

shadow puppets on the ceiling,
with you and me and you
saying nothing of significance
but speaking much too much.

II

Wasn't it raining a moment ago?
Won't you go have a look?

III

Alone together in the living room
gazing out the windowpane,
using half-whispered song lyrics
to describe our wavering emotions,
as if either one of us were fooled
even for a moment.

IV
I sit on the floor
and drink a pint
of my own half-spent nostalgia.

In this piece the division into four separate segments highlights the distance between the narrator and the person she is addressing. In I the narrator implies that they are behaving just as I've complained above: using noise to avoid the retrospection that comes with silence, and this without really saying anything of meaning. In II the narrator addresses the other with a reference to the weather, how much more talking about nothing can you get? But in my poems (I guess because in my psyche) rain always has a romantic, sometimes even sexual, meaning. So the narrator is implying that there is some sort of unspoken romantic/sexual tie between the two, but phrasing it as a question, asking the other to verify this, but only asking it in a very veiled way, as if she were completely emotionally removed from the scene -- though if you read beneath the text, she clearly isn't. She is clearly lamenting the distance that she seems unable to bridge.

This is reinforced in the third stanza, where the two are described as both "together" and "alone," sitting in the same room, and yet looking out the window instead of looking at each other, using song lyrics as a veiled way to talk about their feelings, rather than just discussing, or better yet, acting on, their feelings. And yet the narrator implies that both parties are aware of the subtext, aware of the emotional link between them: "as if either one of us were fooled."

In the fourth stanza the narrator suddenly seems to be alone. It is unclear whether she is just alone in her own thoughts, while the other party is physically present, or if she is physically alone. The reference to nostalgia implies that she is either thinking of the past, or possibly, the entire first three stanzas are a product of nostalgic memory, either a memory of an actual past event, or a description of a relationship, described in general terms (the mood of the entire relationship), rather than in terms of a specific past event. Sitting on the floor and drinking a pint seems to apply some sort of self-pity. It's the opposite of drinking to forget , since what she is drinking a pint of is her own memory.

Anyway, the mood of the whole piece hinges on the use of silence and physical space.

And for the moment, I better leave it at that, as I have other things to do this evening besides this.

Stay tuned for more to come...

ever yours,
yhn

Dr. Horrible Karaoke

2008-08-05T07:02:00.003-04:00

Some enterprising soul (who sadly can't quite spell properly) has placed the following Dr. Horrible-karaokefied videos over yonder on youtube.

Laundry Day
Bad Horse Letter
On the Rise

Sing along and enjoy.
love,
yh "I will not throw poison in the water main" n

and on the subject of yahoo headlines

2008-07-24T07:13:00.003-04:00

"After 3 decades of trying, rare tortoise mates with companion"

further proof that women and men really do operate on completely different schedules? (as if we needed anymore proof...)

There are just oh so, and I mean, oh so, many jokes I could make right now. But I have astute, creative and amusing readers so I'll just let you make up your own. Feel free to post some of them as comments, if you like.

I didn't bother to read the article, by the way.

and the adoption update

2008-07-24T05:17:00.003-04:00

Here's the latest:

1. waiting to hear back from Ukrainian-American and Ukrainian lawyers with advice on what me might feasibly do to bring ---- to the states, on a student visa or otherwise.
2. waiting to hear back from a Belgian lawyer if there's any avenue I can pursue to bring ---- to Belgium and then later to the states, on a student visa or otherwise.
3. found out last week that I was awarded a $4,000 grant from Shaohannah's Hope, which I am now, of course, not allowed to use. That would have been the last $4,000 I needed to pay for all adoption-related expenses.
4. not including the money from Shaohannah's Hope, I have lost about $7,000. I still have $5,500 in the adoption account and have pledges equivalent to some $3,000 more, should I have occasion to use them.
5. a friend has put me in contact with a woman who was able to bring a 16 year old Ukrainian boy to the states on a student visa. I have communicated with her via e-mail already and hope to speak with her on the phone tonight. She is confident she can help me bring ---- to the states on a student visa. The only thing is, I really feel like I'm not supposed to leave Belgium yet, and not just because my promoter would not like it, and I would feel guilty... Stay tuned on this one.
6. This woman reiterated what the lawyer I have spoken with also mentioned and which I had already thought of myself prior to that. The best option would probably be to get someone else to legally adopt ----, and then I could parent her. Apparently, there is a perfectly legal way to do this in such a way that I could later adopt her myself within the US system. Also, apparently, as long as the adoption process is begun before she turns 16, we apparently have until she turns 17 to complete the proceedings.

the way things are today

2008-07-24T05:13:00.002-04:00

Life is good, such a joy to be well, to have energy. There was a small setback earlier this week (I’ve been testing to see what foods and combinations of foods I can and cannot get away with, and we had a bit of mishap, owing to some combination of white bread, sun-dried tomato and tortilla chips over the course of a couple days), but this only served to remind me how well I’ve been in contrast to the weeks and months that preceded. All that time when no one could find anything physically wrong with me, I kept asking myself why everything was so bad when I knew deep down that I was a happier, more emotionally stable person than I had ever been in my life. After years of being told there’s no physical explanation for why you feel constantly exhausted, bleary-headed and unable to concentrate on anything, you begin to wonder if maybe there isn’t something psychologically wrong with you after all, even if your deepest intuitions tell you otherwise.

Now I see that I managed to soldier on uncommonly well, now that I’m fully aware of the difference between how I did feel most of the time over the last five years (really, since before that, but I think it started getting worse around the time I moved to Baltimore) and what being well is actually like. I was working with quite a handicap against me. And now finally I am able to fully experience the happy and emotionally stable person that I truly am, deep down. I dance around my apartment with wild abandon (well, more like mild abandon, because the floors are thin, and I don’t want to bother the neighbors). I’ve been getting working done and actually enjoying it. I’ve started reading P. G. Wodehouse in the evenings (Psmith novels). This morning I was up early, shaving my legs. Yesterday I went out and bought a dress for my friend’s wedding, and when I looked at myself in the store mirror, I actually had some color in my face. I looked healthy.

At the same time, I’m finding I need to retrain myself. Old habits die hard, as they say. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to get my diet/health under control and trying to pick up the pace workwise. I’m not fully there yet in either camp. Next week I plan to enter phase two: start exercising on a regular basis again (now that I have more energy, I’ve really been missing yoga) and start trying to lose some weight (it’s supposed to help with the hypoglycemia – though losing weight is not easy when you have to eat something every three hours). Phase three will be trying to do more things I enjoy instead of spending all my spare time sitting around my apartment doing nothing in particular: go dancing every now and then, go for long exploring walks, go to the movies more than once every few months. Reading Wodehouse is already a step in this direction (and guess who will be going to see the X-Files movie at the end of the month, when it comes out in Belgium. It’s embarrassing how excited I am about the prospect of watching Mulder and Scully make out on screen. And I hope we get to see and learn more about Cancer Man. Oh what a complete geek am I...).

That is all, oh friends of mine.

P. S. – I hope many of you were able to watch Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog. I heard it’s still available on i-tunes, for those of you who missed it on the web-site.

love,
yh “with my freeze ray I will stop the world” n

2008-07-22T02:07:00.003-04:00

if I ever wrote a love song,
if I ever thought in rhyme,
it must have been a long time ago;
it must have been in that other life,
the one where you looked at me in the afternoon
out of the corner of your eye,
the one I'm taught to forget.

WATCH THIS NOW

2008-07-19T12:03:00.004-04:00

Really. I'm not given over to shouting, but this is important. Tell everyone you know to watch Dr. Horrible's Singalong blog now.

Thanks to Niki for letting me know about this. According to the nikiverse, we only have till the end of the day tomorrow to watch this.

So, please watch it now.

Just trust me on this.
love,
yhn

Happy feast of St. Bonaventure

2008-07-15T11:34:00.004-04:00

In honor of the day, I suggest we all get out our copies of the Itinerarium and start reading. If you don't have a copy of your own, you can read it online at Franciscan archives (Latin on the left, English on the right). The translation on that website, however, is horrid.

And here for your reading pleasure is the very end of that work (unpolished English translation provided by yours truly):

Journey of the Mind into God, ch. 7

But if you seek to know how these things come about, ask grace, not learning; desire not understanding; the sighs of prayer, not the pursuit of letters; the Spouse, not the scholar; God, not man; darkness, not the brightness of day; not light, but the fire that completely inflames and carries us over to God through excessive unctions and burning affections. For God, indeed, is a fire, and his forge is in Jerusalem, and Christ kindles this in his fervor, by the burning love of his passion, which he alone truly understood, who said, “My soul has chosen to be hung on a tree; my bones have chosen death." But he who delights in this death is able to see God, because this is undoubtedly true, “No man will see me and live.” – Therefore, let us die, and let us enter into the darkness, let us impose silence upon our anxieties, our lustful desires and our imaginings. Let us cross over, with Christ crucified, from this world to the Father, so that as He shows to us the Father, we may say with Philip, “This suffices for us;” we may hear with Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you;” we may exult with David, saying, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is my heart, and God is my portion unto eternity.” Blessed is the Lord unto eternity, and all people will say, “Let it be done; let it be done.” Amen.

Itinerarium Mentis in Deum, ch. 7

Si autem quaeras, quomodo haec fiant, interroga gratiam, non doctrinam; desiderium, non intellectum; gemitum orationis, non studium lectionis; sponsum, non magistrum; Deum, non hominem, caliginem, non claritatem; non lucem, sed ignem totaliter inflammantem et in Deum excessivis unctionibus et ardentissimis affectionibus transferentem. Qui quidem ignis Deus est, et huius caminus est in Ierusalem,4 et Christus hunc accendit in fervore, suae ardentissimae passionis, quam solus ille vere percipit, qui dicit: Suspendium elegit anima mea, et mortem ossa mea. Quam mortem qui diligit videre potest Deum, quia indubitanter verum est: Non videbit me homo et vivet. — Moriamur igitur et ingrediamur in caliginem, imponamus silentium sollicitudinibus, concupiscentiis et phantasmatibus; transeamus cum Christo crucifixo ex hoc mundo ad Patrem,5 ut, ostendo nobis Patre, dicamus cum Philippo: Sufficit nobis; audiamus cum Paulo: Sufficit tibi gratia mea; Exultemus cum David6 dicentes: Defecit caro mea et cor meum, Deus cordis mei et pars mea Deus in aeternum. Benedictus Dominus in aeternum, et dicet omnis populus: Fiat, fiat. Amen.

photo credit

2008-07-14T12:00:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I generally loathe and avoid all pictures of yours truly. But the lovely Ms. Jennine, unbeknownst to me, managed to get a photo of me in my native habitat, so credit is due to Jennine, and I've added the photo to ye olde blogge.

The locale, if anyone's interested (and also, if you're not), is the philosophy section of Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris.

but I have no Plan C

2008-07-13T13:21:00.005-04:00

My grandparents would have liked a large family, but my grandmother had severe endometriosis, so in the end, the two children they did have, six years apart, were a complete gift from God.

In between my uncle's birth and my mother's they fostered a toddler who they wanted to adopt, but after living with them some six months, they were told she was being returned to the custody of her biological mother. The social worker took her away, and they never saw or heard from her again. After that, my grandfather refused to take in another foster child and try again.

Every day it seems I come just a little bit closer to understanding how he must have felt.

It's strange, isn't it, how our lives play out... all the losses and the joys are never what we would have imagined them to be.

For years I used to talk about my life in terms of "Plan A" and "Plan B." Plan A involved getting married, having two or three biological children and hopefully adopting one or two as well. Plan B entailed doing whatever was necessary to adopt as a single, if I were still single when I turned 35. I envisioned myself living on the edge somewhere in Turkey, then giving all that up, moving back to the states and getting a steady, stable job, even a desk job if necessary. I used to say, "Plan A is Plan A, but I try not to think about it too much, since it's out of my control. Plan B, at least, I can actually do something about."

Deep down I don't think I ever really thought I would wind up being 35 and single, but it didn't occur to me for even a fleeting moment that Plan B would turn out to be just as precarious and just as out of my control as Plan A.

Sometimes I feel this immense sense of loss for something I've never yet been given the chance to live. To have fallen in love with someone who's out there in the world and you haven't even been allowed to contact, who you love wholeheartedly and yet have never met. And then to be waiting and waiting to see what will happen next. And it's all out of your hands. How very strange indeed.

And sometimes I feel I've been given this extraordinary gift, this almost boundless ability to love other people. And there are a few people in my life who I've been privileged to be called to love over the long haul. But sometimes you just want a family that's your family in a different sort of a way, not the way your mom is your mom, not the way that God has made Munu and I as sisters, or the way Elizabeth feels like family to me... something akin to that, yes, in a way -- but something that differs from that in a way that transcends human language (not that it's hard to transcend the ability of human language to express anything that's all that worthwhile)...

It's hard to be a person who loves other people. But, on the other hand, I much prefer that to the alternative. The thing is, though, that I never formulated a plan C. Right now I'm waiting for a bunch of lawyers to discuss my situation amongst themselves and then get back to me with their opinions on whether or not they can help me. But I begin to realize that for the past 16 years my entire life has been couched in terms of "Plan A" and "Plan B." I never thought to formulate a Plan C. What would I do if, after all this time, Plan A and Plan B both turned out to fail?

Spend a year or two in mourning and then try Plan B -- round 2 (round 3, if you count Viet Nam separately)? Probably.

I understand why my grandfather gave up when he did, but no matter how hard my heart is bashed I don't ever want to stop trying. Not that I've given up on ----, mind you. It's just that I've never been this close to having everything I ever desired fall flat on its face. I'm just trying to figure out my orientation in the universe, faced with the stunning fact that it's entirely possible neither Plan A nor Plan B will ever come to fruition.

And I don't have any Plan C.

Taste of Cindy -- acoustic version

2008-07-12T13:04:00.004-04:00

I found my favorite version of my favorite Jesus and Mary Chain song, and here it is for your listening pleasure.

Happy, happy, happy am I.

This is one of my favorite albums ever, and it is currently out of print. I have a cassette I made off the vinyl copy I owned in high school, but alas, no working cassette player.

But now, through the joys of youtube, it is mine, mine, mine.

And, just think; now, dear audience, it can be yours as well.

for the beautiful lady Amna -- Hannah the scholar

2008-07-10T11:02:00.004-04:00

Amna requests more pictures of Hannah, and Amna's wish is my command.

Enjoy,
yhn

Why?

2008-07-08T07:14:00.003-04:00

Yet another headline on yahoo: "Poll: Pet owners favor McCain over Obama"

Why, oh why, is this important? Is the CCC employing pollsters to boost the economy? If so, fair enough. If not, why does this merit an article on the internet, much less a poll? Presumably, there is something happening somewhere in the world that's more newsworthy than this. Oooh, ooh... I know... How about an article on say, the healthcare policies of various candidates with an analysis of the feasibility of each? Too much work? Not interesting enough for your internet savvy readers? Think your readers are too stupid? too apathetic?

You know, if you didn't dumb down the so-called news, we might actually rise to the occasion. Or is that exhibiting just a bit too much faith in the American populace?

I surely hope not.

hypoglycemia update

2008-07-07T06:19:00.001-04:00

Thanks to Tiffany, Mona and any and everyone else who has expressed concern over my physical state.

I just wanted to give you all a quick update on the hypoglycemia project, both because some of you will probably want to know and because somewhere down the line this information may prove helpful to someone I know and/or someone who happens along via keyword search.

I’ve been living off of vegetables, chick peas and quinoa but have also managed to eat an egg, some canned salmon, peanuts and spelt pasta, all without incident. A potato, tortilla chips, caffeinated coffee and a pumpernickel bagel were less successful experiments. One of the websites I looked at suggested I have a small spoonful of olive oil with every meal for the first couple weeks, which may or may not be helping all that much, but it certainly doesn’t seem to hurt.

In general I can report as follows: My energy level has increased greatly. I feel more clear-headed than I have in ages, and my vision is much clearer. I also feel more emotionally stable; I don’t have that thing I sometimes get when I’m sick where I feel like my emotions are fluctuating in a way that’s completely out of keeping with what I actually think and feel. On the other hand, I had severe headaches for three afternoons in a row and a milder headache yesterday. I am thirsty all the time and have been drinking several glasses of water per day. I hope this just means all the toxins are fighting to get out of my system. My sinuses appear to be draining themselves, and we’ll just neglect to discuss the other way toxins have chosen to escape from my person over the last couple days.

The only other thing is that it seems I need to eat every 2-3 hours. If I don’t, I start to get a headache. And I feel sleepy after I eat.

Supposedly, it can take a full week or so to get a simple sugar out of your system, so I’m hoping things begin to level out soon. We shall see.

Stay tuned...

hypoglycemia

2008-07-04T05:52:00.003-04:00

Here’s proof that having a couple of master’s degrees and an IQ of 145 or so doesn’t really make you all that smart...

For years I’ve been saying I’m borderline hypoglycemic. I’ve known for about seven years that I sometimes had blood sugar problems, because about seven years ago I decided to go on a diet and suddenly began having these episodes where I would get dizzy, ravenously hungry and disoriented, and if I didn’t eat something immediately, I would start physically shaking, sometimes sweating and blacking out for a moment.

But when I had all those blood tests a few years ago, my blood sugar levels came up normal – twice. Of course, I always made sure I had plenty to eat and drink an hour or two before I had any blood test, since I have a history of passing out after giving blood...

So, I assumed my problems were more likely due to my blood pressure (it runs low, which can make you feel spacey, and my father and his siblings have problems with fluctuating blood pressure: thus, my self-diagnosis of orthostatic hypotension) or hypothyroidism (the test came up negative, but my mother has a fairly severe thyroid problem that doesn’t show up on the standard test).

But I couldn’t figure out why my health seemed to be so much worse after I moved to Baltimore, then better for awhile and then worse again. And when I moved to Belgium, I did fairly well at first, and then it got worse again. I thought it’s being worse when I moved to Baltimore might be due to my allergies; Baltimore’s not a great city for someone who suffers environmental allergies. But I wasn’t sure how to tie all this together.

Clearly, however, blood sugar was the main factor in my feeling so incredibly miserable directly after going on this detox diet. I had all the usual symptoms in full, undiluted force.

Then, finally, I did some hardcore internet research on hypoglycemia, whereupon I found:

1) People who have environmental allergies are more prone to be hypoglycemic, and there seems to be some sort of interaction between the two.
2) Stress can make hypoglycemia worse. I theorized that this might be indirectly the case, since when I’m stressed I tend not to be so careful about what I eat. However, according to what I read, there’s a much more direct connection. Apparently, there’s a link between adrenaline and blood sugar. When you’re stressed you’re adrenaline can shoot up in a way that affects your blood sugar and can bring on a hypoglycemic attack, if you’re prone to that. Hypoglycemia, in turn, can bring on symptoms of acute stress and anxiety, because it affects the flow of adrenaline.

These two facts go far in explaining why I suddenly had more problems when I moved to Baltimore, and I can definitely link all the times when my symptoms were worse to periods of unusual stress.

I took an online quiz on this hypoglycemia website. The instructions on the quiz said that a score of less than 20 put you in the normal range; if you scored 20 or more, you ought to consult a doctor and get tested for hypoglycemia. Francie’s score?: 78.

symptoms of hypoglycemia that I have (some of which I didn’t even know were symptoms of hypoglycemia): craving sweets; getting ravenously hungry all of a sudden; feeling like I’m going to start shaking if I don’t eat; actually shaking when I eat; dizziness; lightheadedness/foggy-headedness; blurry vision; malaise; exhaustion; difficulty falling asleep or waking up in the middle of the night and having difficulty returning to sleep; mood swings; general emotionalism; blacking out or losing consciousness briefly, particularly when I first stand up; difficulty concentrating, forgetfulness; irritability

symptoms I don’t have now but have had before: heart palpitations; breathing difficulties

symptoms I don’t have: depression; acute anxiety; fainting spells; coma

On day four of the detox diet experiment, I am still feeling dizzy and unfocused. My energy level has improved but not so much as I would like. On the other hand, I inadvertently made some not so great dietary choices yesterday: potatoes and caffeine -- both of which, it turns out, are officially verboten.

I continue to hang in there, barely, and to look to the Little Engine that Could as my inspiration.

But I'm telling you now: if this doesn't improve, I'm pretty sure I can't take another two years of this and actually come up with a workable dissertation two years from this September.

Stay tuned...

exhibitionism

2008-07-03T07:39:00.009-04:00

Exhibit A

“Only last night in the winter dark
I dreamed of how you loved, in all your innocence
And I've never known a softer warmer feeling since, or a truer heart.
But maybe these dreams are leading me
Maybe love is not as gentle as my memory
Maybe time and wishful half-remembered fantasy are the greatest part”
– Cheryl Wheeler, “Arrow”

Exhibit B

On Sunday evening I talked to Richard for the first time in many months. It felt strangely therapeutic. Among other things, I was able to talk with him about the whole noxious episode that was my mid-November – January and about ----. It’s so nice to know someone who knows you, to be able to talk with someone who knows your backstory and whose backstory you know, to hear that familiar tone in someone’s voice when they say, “I love you,” knowing that they mean this wholeheartedly despite having seen you fully at your worst. I miss him.

There’s a lot of who I am that’s directly because of Richard, and I suppose there’s a lot of who Richard is that’s directly because of me. From the catch phrases and games we used to play (R: “Last night I dreamt I was being chased by a giant salami. What do you suppose it means?” – F: “What did you have to eat before you went to bed?” – R: “Lemon meringue pie.” – F: “It was a dream about slapstick comedy.”/ R: “You can’t hit me, because I have a force field, and there’s no known way to disarm it.” – F: “I’m not hitting you; I’m pummeling you with my fists.”); piggyback rides, my fondness (and lack of fondness) for any number of bands and for the Sugarcubes’ version of “Motorcycle Mama,” the Dead Milkmen singing “Punk Rock Girl,” or that great 70s cheesoid classic, “I Love you More Today than Yesterday.” The Shaggs. Movies, books, ways of speaking... And it was Richard who taught me how to be angry, Richard, who hurt me like no one else ever has, and Richard who was able to hurt me that deeply, because I cared that much, let him in that much...

Every now and then, in one of my more cynical moments, I wonder if Richard wasn’t my only chance. There hasn’t been anyone since (I don’t count sitting in the movie theater next to Chris E. with his fingers in my mouth – it counts for something, but not that). Maybe that’s all I get. Somehow it seems so much easier when you’re nineteen years old. You don’t necessarily realize how rare the person is who you have in front of you until you’ve lived another twelve or fifteen years.

At the same time I haven’t forgotten the negatives. I remember those moments too.

Exhibit C

Recently, I’ve been having sugar problems again (at least, I suspect that’s the cause). It’s been much worse than usual, and I’ve had a really difficult time weaning myself from it. I’m tired all the time and have difficulty concentrating on anything. I do half the dishes and then have to sit down for awhile. So, I decided to do this detox diet thing, where you do liquids only for a couple days and then start adding food categories slowly, one at a time.

I started this on Tuesday, and by 2:00 in the afternoon, I was absolutely miserable. I basically had to pull myself up by the railing just to make it up the stairs to my apartment. By Tuesday evening, I was ready to give up entirely. The phrase “run away from home” actually occurred to me, quickly followed by the realization that I don’t actually have a home to run from, and I don’t have a home to run to either. Recently, “Don’t give up” has become my mantra-like reminder to myself.

I started feeling better yesterday afternoon, but I’ve still been very dizzy. I feel like my vision is blurry, as if I were looking at the world through a cloud.

Exhibit D

This morning, since I finally had a bit more energy (more than I have had in a couple weeks, really) and since I was about to go down to the shower when my neighbor dodged in just ahead of me, and I couldn’t think what else to do while waiting for him to finish, I finally packed away most of the clothes from the second wardrobe – i. e. baby clothes. When I went to the states last I was still planning on adopting from Vietnam, so I bought a couple things (because they’re way cheaper there), and a few friends who are done with the baby thing gave me their old baby clothes.

Surprisingly, I didn’t cry while I was doing this. But somehow the fact that I didn’t cry made it seem even worse, as if I knew I should’ve cried but somehow didn’t quite have the energy to.

The other day, while I was engaging in my project of putting labels on my old blog posts, I came across a post from several months ago, where I talked about how I thought it would break my heart if the adoption didn’t go through for some reason.

It might still break my heart; we will see. But I am increasingly of the opinion that I have a non-breakable heart. You can toss it and squash it and throw it against the wall, and somehow it always manages to remold itself. Paradoxically, the more pain it’s put through, the larger it becomes.

Right now the thing that scares me the most is the fact that I don’t even feel like fighting anymore. I don’t feel like I have any fight left.

Still, if and when I need to fight, I know that I will. I think that’s part of the mysterious talent one develops when one becomes a parent. For myself, I can’t fight or even muster the energy to feel like I care, but for ---- I could take on both the American and Ukrainian governments in full, if necessary. Just watch me.

Hey Ma (and everyone else), look what I did...

2008-06-30T17:14:00.002-04:00

I have cleverly placed topical labels on all my past posts. It took a long time, but I enjoyed it, as it brought out the cataloging librarian in me. And now, oh readers mine, you can easily browse every post I've written on any (or all) of such varied topics as: adoption, boys, felines, philosophy, poetry, sex, songs, theology...

Enjoy it as my gift to you, my beloved audience,

archivally yours,
yhn

2008-06-29T15:05:00.003-04:00

bath time
black light
feedback
afterglow
taste tattoo
strobe on skin
nailed to the floor
pinned to the wall
blood to the head,
forgot to buy the groceries.
slammed to the floor
pinned to the wall
blood to the head,
write myself a lullaby
till the pen runs dry.
neck tie?
vampire kiss.
sedative or strange delight?
strange scarlet.
floor to the floor
to the wall.
neck
tie.

ten things to make me here and now happy

2008-06-29T13:43:00.004-04:00

It's no secret that I'm under a lot of stress just about now. I've been thinking and writing and brainstorming and writing, but for now, I prefer to take a de-stress moment by presenting the following list of ten things that make me marvelously happy and that I can and do have this very day: for your reading (and listening) pleasure, oh audience mine -

1. taking a rose-scented bubble bath by candlelight while listening to Bach. (I did get to take a rose-scented bubble bath this morning, because I was catsitting, but I nonetheless, kind of cheated on this one, since I didn't have Bach and candles).
2. Jack White doing a guitar solo. (and the song that made me fall in love with the White Stripes in the first place)
3. a) Papageno; b) Papageno; c) Papageno (mit seinem Papagena (am endlich))
4. coffee
5. the thought of buying HP6 in German while in the Aachen train station tomorrow
6. friends
7. Hannah's soft furry self cuddled between my left shoulder and cheek
8. having an audience (what can I say -- it's the confessional poet in me)
9. the bizarre and fascinating intricacies of human language.
10. clean laundry (which I now have free of charge, because I was catsitting for someone who owns a washer and dryer)

my eventful life

2008-06-27T05:33:00.005-04:00

In less than two weeks time it will be exactly eighteen months since I first arrived in Belgium.

This has led me to sit and ponder, this week, everything that has happened in my life from the time I first applied to come here. In the last two years:

Academically: I've had two promoter/advisors, two dissertation topics, have taught four classes at three different schools, delivered a paper at a conference in Palermo, attended a workshop in Bonn, made copies of manuscripts in Copenhagen, finished work on two publications (only one of which is actually published so far) and spent a lot of time wondering what I was doing here and why. Spent almost two months last Spring, sleeping a lot and fantasizing about giving up and moving home to Chicago. Wrote 0 chapters of my dissertation.

Morrissey the cat died.

Moved to Belgium and traveled to Amsterdam (twice), Haarlem, London (three times, including going for Harry Potter 7), Aachen, Koeln, Bonn, Dusseldorf, Palermo, Mt. Etna, Bruges (four times), Ghent (four times), Baltimore, Chicago, Milwaukee, Copenhagen, Paris, northwestern Spain and a small town in Luxembourg.

Suffered one major existential crisis and three romantic disappointments of varying magnitude.

Made two or three friends and suffered through the following with various friends and family: illness and hospitalizations, emotional and relational upheavals, thoughts of suicide, death and/or major illness of close relatives, divorce of siblings, a sister's abortion, financial difficulties, therapy, romantic disappointment and discouragement, and a daughter born with a rare genetic disorder. On the up side, four friends had babies, including two who had been trying for a very long time, a friend finally fulfilled her dream of moving to Turkey, another gets married in September...

And of course, the one thing that is foremost on my mind: the complete emotional roller coaster that is international adoption.

Sometimes I wish I could just be a person who goes to work and comes home. Well, I wouldn't like to live like that all that time, but I'd be willing to try it for a month or two.

linguistically irresponsible journalism?

2008-06-25T07:48:00.002-04:00

So, I confess... Recently, I have been thinking about changing my e-mail address, just because I'm so annoyed by the news headlines on yahoo. It's partly because of what yahoo shamefully passes off as newsworthy (today I'm informed that Britney Spears has been awarded overnight visits with her two sons), but it's also largely about the at least equally annoying fact that I could produce better journalistic writing in my sleep.

So, this afternoon I go onto yahoo, and the main headline boldly informs me that: "Voters are conflicted." I'm sorry, but no. No; they are not. They may have conflicting thoughts and feelings about various matters that pertain to the campaign, but they are not "conflicted," because "conflicted" is not a legitimate English word. I'm completely okay with the fact that language shifts and meanings change, but not if we're to allow it to do so as a result of other people's inability to use the language correctly. I don't care whether these butcherers of language are writing on the internet or campaigning for the presidency (Woodrow Wilson, wasn't it?, who introduced the term "normalcy" to the English language via a campaign misspeak. He meant to say "normality," of course, since that's an actual word, and "normalcy" is not).

Didn't the internet journalists of our day ever have high school English teachers? If one of my students wrote "conflicted" in an assignment, I'd certainly mark it as wrong and comment on it. Don't the internet journalists of our day have editors? Or did the editors also play hooky from high school English?

And now I shall step quietly down from the soap box and proceed to back away slowly.

vigilantly guarding our linguistic heritage,
yhn

oh so very tired

2008-06-24T04:36:00.002-04:00

I’ve been going through the stages of the grieving process over ----. Last week I was so emotionally exhausted that I couldn’t actively feel anything. The human being is an astoundingly resilient creature. I kept waiting for the moment when I would have a complete temporary emotional breakdown, but it never came. I felt I had no strength whatsoever to go on, and yet I kept walking forward, but walking forward as if I were a zombie, as if through the mist of an emotionally unconnected dream.

Sunday afternoon I finally began to feel things. Fear. A strange emotion for me, because I’m not a fearful person at all. I generally have no problem trusting God at all, so no matter how bad it gets, I’m always at least content in some core part of myself, knowing that God is in control and has my best interest at heart.

I don’t cease to believe that now. I wholeheartedly believe that God “works all things together for good” for those who are in him. But the good that matters now is not my own; it’s ----‘s. So, what if God renders me nothing but a catalyst? What if God has privileged me to be involved in her life in some extraordinary way, but I’m only intended to love her from a distance? I’ve laid myself open to make that sacrifice; I’ve fully committed myself; I’ll do whatever it takes to do whatever’s best for her, but what will become of my own poor, soft heart?

I’ve been in touch with a couple from the states, who met ---- seven years while in the Ukraine for a short-term ministry. At the time they considered adopting her but found it wasn’t feasible (they didn’t explain to me why it wasn’t). Then, sometime within the last year they felt God was really putting ---- on their hearts. They have been able to reconnect with her and have told her they want to be a family to her. They don’t seem to be completely clear as to what that means for them. Apparently, they were really confused when they learned about me from mutual acquaintances. It seems they didn’t even know ---- was legally available for adoption – or at least, they didn’t know her name was on any list that I might have found out about her. It appears they hadn’t considered pursuing a legal adoption at all.

At first I thought perhaps they were meant to adopt ----, and I’m just supposed to be the catalyst that makes that happen. If so, I would do whatever was necessary to help them. I would give them all the money I have in my adoption account; maybe the agency would even be willing to transfer to them what I already paid, etc. But then I realized they can’t legally adopt her either. The same law that makes it illegal for foreign singles to adopt from the Ukraine also makes it illegal for couples to adopt if one or both of them are more than 45 years older than the child. At least one of them is too old.

So, I suppose the solution is to find some way that we can both be involved in her life. I don’t know what that would be or how that would work, and neither do they. And here I sit waiting, waiting, waiting. I have a phone consultation with a lawyer (who I have a very good sense about and am very happy to have found), but not until late in the first week of July, after she returns from vacation.

Oh so painful. Like trying to walk forward in a straight line while you’re being continually bludgeoned in the stomach by some unseen force.

On Sunday afternoon I was sitting on the edge of my bed, turned and looked at Hannah, and the thought that came immediately to my mind was, “What are you going to take from me next? Is Hannah going to drop dead tomorrow? Or will it be Elizabeth, or my mom? What else do I have left to take?”

I feel like a poor man’s Job.

corn flakes

2008-06-23T10:20:00.001-04:00

Here's an amusing factoid I learned today. But don't tell anyone it was me who told you.

Alan Davies

2008-06-17T14:52:00.005-04:00

So, while we were in Paris, I introduced Gail and Jennine to my new favorite time waster: QI. And, as we watched an episode, I could not help but wax poetical on the cuteness that is Alan Davies. Did I mention that he is the cutest? And also that he is the cutest? So, he's not as hot as Charlie Cox qua Tristan in Stardust, but nonetheless, he is the cutest.

Anyway, Gail introduced me to my other new favorite time waster: Jonathan Creek. So, far I have only seen the pilot, but yes, it is a British detective show starring Alan Davies. Ah, what would Francie do without youtube? probably write a dissertation or something dumb like that.

here is Alan Davies being cute
and here he is again being cute, while talking about his cats.

But P. S. -- John Hodgman is still the hottest, as we all know.
But P. P. S. -- You don't have to agree with my cuteness assessment of Alan Davies to agree that Jonathan Creek is a good show.

Francie on safari

2008-06-17T05:02:00.003-04:00

I shall tell you the following principally by means of a list of facts, because up until this moment I still haven't managed to find the time or energy to absorb it or emotionally process it in anything more than a cursory manner:

A week ago last Friday morning, I was sitting in front of my computer, combing my hair, clad in a tank top and flannel pajama bottoms with little spritely monkeys skiing and snowboarding all over them, talking to Gail H., who was sitting behind me on the spare bed. I opened an e-mail from the adoption agency, which informed me in the most casual terms ("Hello Francie, I haven't heard from you in awhile. Did you know?...") that the Ukrainian president had signed a law, effective immediately, making it illegal for singles to adopt from the Ukraine. Did I want to have my case file switched to Russia? They have a good contact there.

Needless to say, I did not want my case file switched to Russia. Why can't people seem to understand that this ceased long ago to be about adopting some kid, and it is now fully and wholeheartedly about ---- and ---- alone?

I did some internet research to find out about the law. Apparently the Ukrainian legislature has tried to pass this law multiple times, but the president has always vetoed it. This time, however, the legislature had enough votes to override the president's veto, and all foreign singles and all couples over a certain age who were absolutely anywhere in the adoption process were immediately shut out.

And what of ----? She is not two years old. Extraordinary as she is, there are no long lines of people waiting to adopt her. One year of time and anticipation and $7,000 down the drain on my end, but that I can live with; no problem. What of ----?

And will I give up? Ha; if you think so, you don't know me. 1) I e-mailed my contact from the adoption agency and declined the offer to transfer my file to Russia. I asked if there was anything I could do for ---- without doing an official legal adoption: for example, could I bring her here or to the states for a visit? My contact said she would find out for me and let me know in a few days. That was a week ago yesterday. 2) I have been in contact with my acquaintances who know ---- and have put them all on the case, as it were. 3) I have been working on finding a US immigration lawyer and a Ukrainian lawyer (or a US lawyer who also knows the Ukrainian law). I found a Ukrainian American immigration lawyer, who does not know Ukrainian law (although she does speak Ukrainian and Russian, which is a plus), but she has a cousin who does know Ukrainian law. She's Ukrainian Catholic and works for a non-profit immigration clinic affiliated with a Hispanic Baptist Church in New Jersey. I hope to have a phone consultation with her late this week to see what my options are. I have a really good feeling about her based on my e-mail conversation with her and everything I found out about her on the internet.

I am hoping that I can have ---- come to visit and/or go there to visit, and when she turns seventeen and is considered an adult under the Ukrainian system, I hope to be able to bring her to the states under a student visa. Of course, I would be more than happy if I can do more than that, but I want to remain as realistic as possible about my potential options. (For example, in the words of one of my friends: "Could you find a real or pretend husband?" -- a nice idea but not very feasible or likely -- plus, who wants a pretend husband? Not I.).

But just between you and me, my humble lecteur, I'm just tired. I feel as though all my energy had been sapped, and I have no fight left. I don't doubt that it will all turn out for the best in the end, but in the meantime, I can't help but feeling as though I'd been let loose for a journey across the desert without the proper equipment. "Okay; on the count of three, walk that way. One; two... Oh wait, take this small canteen of water with you... three." And she's off.

Stay tuned, my friends. Because only God knows what will happen next

the secret identity of cars

2008-06-15T02:52:00.004-04:00

It's not every day you see an upside down vintage car on the sidewalk that's lit from within by tasteful white Christmas lights.
However, I can pretty well guarantee that this is the only car that sits upside down on the sidewalk just next door to a cafe where Sartre used to hang out with de Beauvoir.
Unless, of course, that car is moment by moment recreated and replaced by cars that appear identical to the untrained eye but which are really merely replicas of one another.

Who's to say?

I wonder if Les Deux Magots serves Sartre's recipe for tuna casserole.

St. Germain de Pres

2008-06-15T02:50:00.000-04:00

body image, blood sugar and two self portraits by the author

2008-06-13T12:31:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I was at the Camille Claudel exhibit in the Rodin Museum (for those of you who don't know who Camille Claudel was, she was a rather remarkable sculptor, who began her artistic career as a student of Rodin and a worker in his studio). Jennine and Gail opted not to pay the extra money to see the exhibit, but, as a longtime fan of her work, I just had to go anyway. And I'm glad that I did, because it was absolutely amazing (unfortunately, there was no photography allowed, so you'll have to take my word on that).

Camille Claudel has the most marvelous sense of the female body. Sometimes her compositions have this sort of upsweep of action that verges on overkill for me, but her women are absolutely wonderful. Their bodies look like real female bodies and yet always beautiful at the same time; somehow she manages to capture the ideal in the normal. Women with hips and thighs and bellies and beautiful faces smoothed in bronze, whose breasts hang the way actual breasts hang, not as if they were mysteriously held in perky place by an invisible Miracle Bra. Her men, unfortunately, are not so realistic as her women. They're still a little bit uberbuff in the Greek vein, with over-sized hands a la Rodin. Even her women, mind you, are somewhat idealized, just not as much as in most of the art one sees.

But the Claudel exhibit, combined with the book I just bought (THIS BOOK) had me thinking about bodies and body image more than usual yesterday and today.

Not unlike what seems to me the majority of my slightly more than one half of the species, I have a not so great self-image when it comes to my own body. I do like the bottom half of my legs pretty well, and I think I have a nice enough face -- though my jaw's too square. And I used to think my eyes were my best feature, but they're not as dark as they used to be.

Whenever I'm tried and cranky and/or having a bad day for pretty much any reason whatsoever, I resort to berating myself for being fat. I'm pretty sure this is just one of those things that most women do. I read some article once that said only about 20% of adult American females surveyed claimed to be happy with their bodies. The majority said they were too fat, and about 15% said they were too skinny (actually, I don't remember the exact percentages). The double whammy for me is that I'm also borderline hypoglycemic and have a tendency to eat when I'm stressed, because, let's face it, food is yummy, and eating is fun.

The thing is that women's bodies differ greatly in natural height, shape, size, etc. I used to think I was fat, because all my stepsisters had smaller feet than I did even though I was the youngest. At the age of twelve I wore a larger size than any of them, owing to my impossibly large ribcage (this is not a euphemism -- I really do mean ribcage, not breasts, though those were also bigger than theirs from the time I was twelve or thirteen). And at the time, I weighed pretty much exactly what I should have weighed for my height, age and body frame.

Yet, thanks to the fashion industry, we've been called to believe that we are all supposed to be 5'10 with no hips, breasts or thighs to speak of, so that we can wear the expensive clothing of the month, designed for us by gay men, who apparently want us all to look like tall skinny boys, because in the words of Marilyn Monroe qua Sugar Kovalchik (to Jack Lemmon qua Jerry qua Daphne), "There's one thing I envy, though; you're so flat-chested. Clothes hang much better on you than they do on me."

When I look at other people, I appreciate the varieties in their bodies. The extremes do frighten me a bit, I admit -- men with great rolls of fat hanging over their belts and women with bone-thin arms and thighs the same size as their calves, but in between there's a wonderful variety.

But, alas, if only we could all accept ourselves as ourselves. It's not such an easy thing to do. One can't completely escape one's culture, I suppose.

Sainte Chapelle

2008-06-13T11:50:00.017-04:00

action cat

2008-06-13T03:00:00.010-04:00

and just for good measure, the Eiffel Tower at night

2008-06-13T02:59:00.000-04:00

and some other stuff in the way of sculpture

2008-06-13T02:56:00.006-04:00

The Burghers of Calais

2008-06-13T02:52:00.007-04:00

self-potrait with a Rodin

2008-06-13T02:52:00.001-04:00

The Kiss

2008-06-13T02:49:00.002-04:00