...to start, once again, where it all began:
"Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...."
And no, I have not forgotten about my blog, or tired of it. I will return. Soon.
5.31.2007
5.19.2007
Jerry Falwell
I didn't know too much about the man, to be honest, though my heart goes out to his family right now.
But after seeing the way his death has been handled in the media spotlight, I'm inclined to cheer at the remarks of Ann Coulter and Kathy Shaidle. At the very least, I found their comments refreshing. The Bellingham Herald article was so ghastly that even a coworker of mine not known around the office for his conservativism said laughingly that maybe someone who liked Falwell should have written out his life-timeline.
Ahh, I do love a little right sarcasm, though. It lifts the spirit, and besides, it made me laugh out loud. These articles are worth reading the whole way through, but here are a couple of highlights:
Ann Coulter:
"From the news coverage of Falwell's death, I began to suspect his first name was "Whether You Agree With Him or Not"...
Let me be the first to say: I ALWAYS agreed with the Rev. Falwell.
Actually, there was one small item I think Falwell got wrong regarding his statement after 9-11 that "the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians – who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle – the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped this happen.'"
First of all, I disagreed with that statement because Falwell neglected to specifically include Teddy Kennedy and "the Reverend" Barry Lynn."
Kathy Shaidle:
"Lastly: everyone is replaying Falwell's post-9/11 remarks. Had I been Falwell, I'd have said instead: "For once, let's give homosexuals, abortionists, radical feminists, the ACLU and the People for the American Way a hand, everybody. After all, this is the first major tragedy in the last 50 years that they had absolutely nothing to do with..."
Funny thing is, Falwell turned out to be absolutely correct in his own weird way: leftists are falling all over each other to side with radical Muslims now. The Left had nothing to do with September 11, 2001 -- but from September 12/01 to today, they've been trying to make up for THAT ball drop, big time."
But after seeing the way his death has been handled in the media spotlight, I'm inclined to cheer at the remarks of Ann Coulter and Kathy Shaidle. At the very least, I found their comments refreshing. The Bellingham Herald article was so ghastly that even a coworker of mine not known around the office for his conservativism said laughingly that maybe someone who liked Falwell should have written out his life-timeline.
Ahh, I do love a little right sarcasm, though. It lifts the spirit, and besides, it made me laugh out loud. These articles are worth reading the whole way through, but here are a couple of highlights:
Ann Coulter:
"From the news coverage of Falwell's death, I began to suspect his first name was "Whether You Agree With Him or Not"...
Let me be the first to say: I ALWAYS agreed with the Rev. Falwell.
Actually, there was one small item I think Falwell got wrong regarding his statement after 9-11 that "the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians – who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle – the ACLU, People for the American Way, all of them who have tried to secularize America. I point the finger in their face and say, 'You helped this happen.'"
First of all, I disagreed with that statement because Falwell neglected to specifically include Teddy Kennedy and "the Reverend" Barry Lynn."
Kathy Shaidle:
"Lastly: everyone is replaying Falwell's post-9/11 remarks. Had I been Falwell, I'd have said instead: "For once, let's give homosexuals, abortionists, radical feminists, the ACLU and the People for the American Way a hand, everybody. After all, this is the first major tragedy in the last 50 years that they had absolutely nothing to do with..."
Funny thing is, Falwell turned out to be absolutely correct in his own weird way: leftists are falling all over each other to side with radical Muslims now. The Left had nothing to do with September 11, 2001 -- but from September 12/01 to today, they've been trying to make up for THAT ball drop, big time."
5.15.2007
Montana Miscellany
To anyone who wonders why I've failed to post much in the past two weeks, I can explain in part at least by saying that last week was spent in Montana, where computer access never quite made the priority list.
Congratulations to my 'best friend' Briana, newly-graduated photography major, for whose celebrations of achievement I made the trip! If you've never checked out her work, you can view some of it by clicking here.
Montana owed me after its cold--literally, 15 below zero--welcome last time. The Big Sky State made up for its less-than-affectionate treatment of a former resident by treating me to sunshine, highs in the 70s at least, and a couple of spectacular thunderstorms. Briana and I took refuge in the library during Thursday's storm, watched the rain and lightning out the windows, and fell asleep in chairs in one of the reading corners.
It's hard to believe, now, that I've lived in Washington as long as I lived in Montana. Maybe childhood always seems longer in looking back than other dispensations of life. Be that as it may, Briana and her family are of the kindred-spirit sort that with them, the conversation and habits of friendship fall into their natural, relaxed ways with little regard for the passage of time.
Even after a fair amount of experience, it still amazes me that only a couple of hours took me from my sister's goodbye to my friend's hello, hundreds of miles away; that the same brief amount of time took me from my friend's hug on sunlit Montana tarmac to my boyfriend's kiss under slate-gray Seattle skies.
Flying back--maybe because of the extra 5,000-foot-drop in elevation--always turns my hearing inside out so things sound louder inside my head than entering my ears from outside. This is a royal annoyance when, upon getting off the plane, one goes straight to church service in a cathedral with an real (not synthesized) pipe organ. That beautiful instrument still sounded good, though.
On my last night in Montana, a bunch of us stayed up way too late watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Mr. Bell and I punctuated the movie with regular interjections like these: "Nothing like the book", "Not in the book", and "Funny, but not in the book." I'd forgotten how far the movies' scenes deviated from the events in the books. Order of the Phoenix is probably going to make me angry, but I plan to watch it anyway.
I did notice one thing, though, from that re-watch of movie #3: the scene where Lupin points out that Harry has his mother's eyes. Somewhere I seem to recall hearing that J. K. Rowling commented on that little conversation as basically prophetic. Here's the quote, thanks to www.imdb.com:
"You know the very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They're your mother, Lily's. Yes, oh yes. I knew her. Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others ... Most especially when that person couldn't see it in themselves.... You are more like [your parents] than you know, Harry. In time you'll come to see just how much. "
That made me think. I've been considering the importance of Harry's inheritance of "Lily's eyes" as having to do with others looking in, not Harry looking out. Hmmm...
Sixty-seven days and counting!
Congratulations to my 'best friend' Briana, newly-graduated photography major, for whose celebrations of achievement I made the trip! If you've never checked out her work, you can view some of it by clicking here.
Montana owed me after its cold--literally, 15 below zero--welcome last time. The Big Sky State made up for its less-than-affectionate treatment of a former resident by treating me to sunshine, highs in the 70s at least, and a couple of spectacular thunderstorms. Briana and I took refuge in the library during Thursday's storm, watched the rain and lightning out the windows, and fell asleep in chairs in one of the reading corners.
It's hard to believe, now, that I've lived in Washington as long as I lived in Montana. Maybe childhood always seems longer in looking back than other dispensations of life. Be that as it may, Briana and her family are of the kindred-spirit sort that with them, the conversation and habits of friendship fall into their natural, relaxed ways with little regard for the passage of time.
Even after a fair amount of experience, it still amazes me that only a couple of hours took me from my sister's goodbye to my friend's hello, hundreds of miles away; that the same brief amount of time took me from my friend's hug on sunlit Montana tarmac to my boyfriend's kiss under slate-gray Seattle skies.
Flying back--maybe because of the extra 5,000-foot-drop in elevation--always turns my hearing inside out so things sound louder inside my head than entering my ears from outside. This is a royal annoyance when, upon getting off the plane, one goes straight to church service in a cathedral with an real (not synthesized) pipe organ. That beautiful instrument still sounded good, though.
On my last night in Montana, a bunch of us stayed up way too late watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Mr. Bell and I punctuated the movie with regular interjections like these: "Nothing like the book", "Not in the book", and "Funny, but not in the book." I'd forgotten how far the movies' scenes deviated from the events in the books. Order of the Phoenix is probably going to make me angry, but I plan to watch it anyway.
I did notice one thing, though, from that re-watch of movie #3: the scene where Lupin points out that Harry has his mother's eyes. Somewhere I seem to recall hearing that J. K. Rowling commented on that little conversation as basically prophetic. Here's the quote, thanks to www.imdb.com:
"You know the very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They're your mother, Lily's. Yes, oh yes. I knew her. Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others ... Most especially when that person couldn't see it in themselves.... You are more like [your parents] than you know, Harry. In time you'll come to see just how much. "
That made me think. I've been considering the importance of Harry's inheritance of "Lily's eyes" as having to do with others looking in, not Harry looking out. Hmmm...
Sixty-seven days and counting!
5.13.2007
Happy Mothers' Day
...to the woman who taught me darn near everything I know
and whose love for me has held unwavering for well over 29 years.
Love you, Mom.
and whose love for me has held unwavering for well over 29 years.
Love you, Mom.
5.03.2007
New Post
There is a new post of mine over at Silhouette, in case you want to see it. This post, however, has more to do with my shame at having not posted last weekend (or any time since the weekend before.)
Silhouette has me really excited, though. There's some good writing among these bloggers, most of whose work I'm just getting to know. We've got quite an eclectic group, both in style and perspective, and it's well worth checking out.
On a totally unrelated topic, I need to figure out when to start my compulsory chronological re-read of the first six Harry Potter books in honor of the upcoming finale. The reading needs to conclude near the release date for book 7, but not go past it. It took me one month, the first time, to read all six books at least once (three of them might as well have been twice) but that needs cushioning nowadays in consideration of other demands upon my time and the fact that I know how all of those end now.
What can I say? I finally found something to be good and nerdy about. My boyfriend finally picked one up for the first time tonight. He's only just made it past Hagrid's first revelation to Harry, but I'm all curious to hear what he thinks ;-D
Silhouette has me really excited, though. There's some good writing among these bloggers, most of whose work I'm just getting to know. We've got quite an eclectic group, both in style and perspective, and it's well worth checking out.
On a totally unrelated topic, I need to figure out when to start my compulsory chronological re-read of the first six Harry Potter books in honor of the upcoming finale. The reading needs to conclude near the release date for book 7, but not go past it. It took me one month, the first time, to read all six books at least once (three of them might as well have been twice) but that needs cushioning nowadays in consideration of other demands upon my time and the fact that I know how all of those end now.
What can I say? I finally found something to be good and nerdy about. My boyfriend finally picked one up for the first time tonight. He's only just made it past Hagrid's first revelation to Harry, but I'm all curious to hear what he thinks ;-D
4.21.2007
Heroes and the Stories Worth Reading
"In order to preserve the vigor of the moral faculty, it is of the utmost consequence to keep young people as ignorant as possible of the crimes that are generally thought most disgraceful to human nature. Suicide, I believe, is often propagated by means of newspapers. For this reason, I should be glad to see the proceedings of our courts kept from the public eye when they expose or punish monstrous vices." --Benjamin Rush*
We've all heard far more than necessary about Cho Seung-Hui; frankly, I think a brief mention of his name in the bottom corner of some newspaper article would have been enough. "Murderer identified as Cho S. &c; senior at VA Tech" covered all the information anyone other than his poor parents needed to hear. Heaven knows, keeping the information to that sentence might have offered them some much-needed mercy.
The current journalistic culture of "too much information", which has so willingly provided us with the ability to peruse the internal workings of a diseased mind, only arouses morbid curiosity. "But it raises awareness", someone will say. Sure it does--especially in those most likely to repeat such a crime by imitation. If anybody wants awareness, a simple list of warning signs of such mental disorder will suffice. Awareness itself is no cure, anyway, but that's a subject for another time.
Here are the real stories of the Virginia Tech shooting, the ones worth telling and re-telling. You've heard them, I'm sure, but here they are again:
Professor Liviu Librescu, survivor of the Nazi Holocaust, barricaded a classrom door with his own body and told his students to flee. His intervention allowed several young people to escape through the windows before he was gunned down. He died on Holocaust Remembrance Day, giving his life to save others.
Ryan Clark, resident adviser in the dorm where the shooting began, in the words of one friend "would do anything to help [his friends]..." He died coming to the aid of another student.
Zach Petkewicz is still alive, as are all the other members of his class--because upon hearing the shots come closer, he came out from behind the teacher's podium, where he'd initially hidden, and got his fellow students to help him push a table against the door. The gunman managed to crack the door just enough to empty a clip of bullets into the room, but Zach and the others continued to push against him. After reloading, Cho went looking for easier prey, leaving Zach's class unharmed.
Those are the people we should hear most about; theirs are the minds that should be brought to public attention and revealed for awareness' sake. They--like Columbine student Cassie Bernall, who admitted her faith in God despite the gun held to her head, and who died at the hands of Cho's idea of a martyr and hero--are the people we should remember.
Just one more thing: The most insightful piece I've seen on the Virginia Tech shooting yet is this little post on grieving by Kathy Shaidle, a conservative Christian commentator from Toronto. Though she doesn't write gently, she put down some real truth in this article. Give me "Amazing Grace" over "My Heart Will Go On" any day.
* from "An Inquiry into the Influence of Physical Causes upon the Moral Faculty", 1786; quoted from Benjamin Rush: Signer of the Declaration of Independence by David Barton, 1999 WallBuilders Press, p. 122
We've all heard far more than necessary about Cho Seung-Hui; frankly, I think a brief mention of his name in the bottom corner of some newspaper article would have been enough. "Murderer identified as Cho S. &c; senior at VA Tech" covered all the information anyone other than his poor parents needed to hear. Heaven knows, keeping the information to that sentence might have offered them some much-needed mercy.
The current journalistic culture of "too much information", which has so willingly provided us with the ability to peruse the internal workings of a diseased mind, only arouses morbid curiosity. "But it raises awareness", someone will say. Sure it does--especially in those most likely to repeat such a crime by imitation. If anybody wants awareness, a simple list of warning signs of such mental disorder will suffice. Awareness itself is no cure, anyway, but that's a subject for another time.
Here are the real stories of the Virginia Tech shooting, the ones worth telling and re-telling. You've heard them, I'm sure, but here they are again:
Professor Liviu Librescu, survivor of the Nazi Holocaust, barricaded a classrom door with his own body and told his students to flee. His intervention allowed several young people to escape through the windows before he was gunned down. He died on Holocaust Remembrance Day, giving his life to save others.
Ryan Clark, resident adviser in the dorm where the shooting began, in the words of one friend "would do anything to help [his friends]..." He died coming to the aid of another student.
Zach Petkewicz is still alive, as are all the other members of his class--because upon hearing the shots come closer, he came out from behind the teacher's podium, where he'd initially hidden, and got his fellow students to help him push a table against the door. The gunman managed to crack the door just enough to empty a clip of bullets into the room, but Zach and the others continued to push against him. After reloading, Cho went looking for easier prey, leaving Zach's class unharmed.
Those are the people we should hear most about; theirs are the minds that should be brought to public attention and revealed for awareness' sake. They--like Columbine student Cassie Bernall, who admitted her faith in God despite the gun held to her head, and who died at the hands of Cho's idea of a martyr and hero--are the people we should remember.
Just one more thing: The most insightful piece I've seen on the Virginia Tech shooting yet is this little post on grieving by Kathy Shaidle, a conservative Christian commentator from Toronto. Though she doesn't write gently, she put down some real truth in this article. Give me "Amazing Grace" over "My Heart Will Go On" any day.
* from "An Inquiry into the Influence of Physical Causes upon the Moral Faculty", 1786; quoted from Benjamin Rush: Signer of the Declaration of Independence by David Barton, 1999 WallBuilders Press, p. 122
4.14.2007
Silhouette
"I enjoy the medium of writing," my friend Justin wrote in a recent email; a sentiment that has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. Justin was writing to invite me as well as several other literary- and/or journalistic-minded friends to join a new group blogazine, a place to share our thoughts by way of the pen (or keyboard, in this case.)
I would like to invite all of you to drop by and read it; visit regularly, if you're so inclined. This has me totally excited, not only because I get to participate but because of the caliber of young writers in on it. There should be articles going up at least weekly, as all of us signed on for an article-per-month commitment.
Without further ado, then: Welcome to Silhouette. Hopefully you all find something to inspire, ponder, or at least enjoy.
Oh, and for anyone who doesn't recognize the name difference, I'm posting there under my nickname, "Jenna". For a direct link to my first article, Finding My Religion, click here.
I would like to invite all of you to drop by and read it; visit regularly, if you're so inclined. This has me totally excited, not only because I get to participate but because of the caliber of young writers in on it. There should be articles going up at least weekly, as all of us signed on for an article-per-month commitment.
Without further ado, then: Welcome to Silhouette. Hopefully you all find something to inspire, ponder, or at least enjoy.
Oh, and for anyone who doesn't recognize the name difference, I'm posting there under my nickname, "Jenna". For a direct link to my first article, Finding My Religion, click here.
4.10.2007
Lent Ends, Easter Begins
There's nothing quite like forty days of sacrifice to drive home the significance of Easter.
I've got to admit, it feels great to be able to read and talk about Harry Potter again. It feels so great that I've already re-set my IM and xanga pics to Hermione, spent some time reading Harry-related articles on Wikipedia, and have again watched the trailer for movie # 5. Maybe I'll even put a couple of lines from "Weasley is our King" (Gryffindor version) or some random Luna Lovegood line up as my IM quote tomorrow.
Before I get accused of blasphemy, though, let me hasten to explain that while Harry has certainly brightened up my work week, Easter itself meant so much to me this year that I can hardly find words to express it. I've always liked the holiday anyway--belting out the good old hymns like a proper Baptist in a packed-out church, spending time with family in the afternoon.
This year, I attended the Easter Triduum service--split into three parts over Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil (Saturday). All three sessions carry so much symbolism as to make themselves extremely powerful; so much so that I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't attended one and might someday. I'll just say that I was deeply moved; moved to tears several times on Easter Vigil night. That service began at 9 PM, well after dark, and my favorite part was when the music began to brighten and swell, the lights came on in the church, and the church bells--silent since Thursday--rang out in the fullness of Easter joy.
The rest of Saturday and Sunday were so well filled with happy time among my family and Lou's (that's the Saint's real name) that I never managed to blog. All in all, I had a truly blessed weekend. I hope the same for all of you.
P.S. ...Can anyone top this record? I finally took my Christmas nativity scene down... today. I've heard of Christmas trees on Valentine's day, but crèche on Easter is a new low for me.
I've got to admit, it feels great to be able to read and talk about Harry Potter again. It feels so great that I've already re-set my IM and xanga pics to Hermione, spent some time reading Harry-related articles on Wikipedia, and have again watched the trailer for movie # 5. Maybe I'll even put a couple of lines from "Weasley is our King" (Gryffindor version) or some random Luna Lovegood line up as my IM quote tomorrow.
Before I get accused of blasphemy, though, let me hasten to explain that while Harry has certainly brightened up my work week, Easter itself meant so much to me this year that I can hardly find words to express it. I've always liked the holiday anyway--belting out the good old hymns like a proper Baptist in a packed-out church, spending time with family in the afternoon.
This year, I attended the Easter Triduum service--split into three parts over Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil (Saturday). All three sessions carry so much symbolism as to make themselves extremely powerful; so much so that I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't attended one and might someday. I'll just say that I was deeply moved; moved to tears several times on Easter Vigil night. That service began at 9 PM, well after dark, and my favorite part was when the music began to brighten and swell, the lights came on in the church, and the church bells--silent since Thursday--rang out in the fullness of Easter joy.
The rest of Saturday and Sunday were so well filled with happy time among my family and Lou's (that's the Saint's real name) that I never managed to blog. All in all, I had a truly blessed weekend. I hope the same for all of you.
P.S. ...Can anyone top this record? I finally took my Christmas nativity scene down... today. I've heard of Christmas trees on Valentine's day, but crèche on Easter is a new low for me.
4.01.2007
Gotta Say This...
Brief explanation: The Lenten fast does not apply to Sundays. It's not cheating, I promise... ask your local priest :-)
Anyway, I'm taking a Sunday break from my Lenten fast not to tell you that the new Harry Potter cover has been announced--everybody knows that--but just to say that this looks great:
Anyway, I'm taking a Sunday break from my Lenten fast not to tell you that the new Harry Potter cover has been announced--everybody knows that--but just to say that this looks great:
3.26.2007
Well Worth Reading
The Saint posted this article yesterday, and I am still pondering through the ideas. He put forth a very clear picture of what real Christianity is up against in America (or anywhere in Western society, really), and he did it from a perspective I don't often hear.
Here's a sample:
"Liberal democracy allows you a great deal of freedom to practice your religion according to the dictates of your conscience, but, in the end, you must do so alone. You can have a family and a church, but they must remain collections of autonomous individuals. The right of an individual to practice his religion has seldom been under question, but the right of a family or church to educate its children, to define acceptable moral behavior for its members and choose its clergy often seems to be only grudgingly granted."
In a world where individual satisfaction is valued over morality and virtue, where suffering of any sort is considered the single greatest evil, and where the passions of youth are glorified and gratified in utter disregard of the wisdom of the aged: this is a radical concept.
I doubt even a large part of Christianity would be willing to agree fully with the ideas in this article.
Anyway, the post comes highly recommended from this direction! Enjoy the reading.
Here's a sample:
"Liberal democracy allows you a great deal of freedom to practice your religion according to the dictates of your conscience, but, in the end, you must do so alone. You can have a family and a church, but they must remain collections of autonomous individuals. The right of an individual to practice his religion has seldom been under question, but the right of a family or church to educate its children, to define acceptable moral behavior for its members and choose its clergy often seems to be only grudgingly granted."
In a world where individual satisfaction is valued over morality and virtue, where suffering of any sort is considered the single greatest evil, and where the passions of youth are glorified and gratified in utter disregard of the wisdom of the aged: this is a radical concept.
I doubt even a large part of Christianity would be willing to agree fully with the ideas in this article.
Anyway, the post comes highly recommended from this direction! Enjoy the reading.
3.25.2007
It was Good Enough for Aretha…
While goofing off on my computer the other day, I ran across this article by Martha Brockenbrough. As it referred to movie princesses, I could hardly resist reading it… there’s still a lot of little girl in me :-D
Normally Martha Brockenbrough’s work makes me laugh, and I got some chuckles out of this piece. So I won’t criticize it thoroughly, although it’s clear she’s either never seen The Princess Diaries (first or second) all the way through or she’s mixed it up with another storyline.
But, while the probably-innocent-but-rather-drastic misinterpretation of one of my favorite movies annoyed me mildly, the question that has haunted me ever since is one that, if spoken too loudly, could easily draw a fair share of feminist ire. I’m not normally fond of being intentionally and overtly controversial, but this one just bugs me.
Here’s the question: What’s so bad about a girl wanting to be rescued?
The obvious answer given, of course, is that a woman should be capable of taking care of herself and confidently in control of her own destiny. The problem is that reality limits the practicability of such things.
No, I’m not advocating ignorance, stupidity or inanity for women. I happen to like being sensible and educated. Part of any decent education for girls, however, is an understanding of vulnerability: feminine, as well as human, vulnerability. Every daughter should be taught keen character judgment and an eye for what sort of man is worth investing herself in, as well as which girls make good friends. She should also learn of the danger of going certain places alone; that it’s a good idea for a girl to keep her head up, her eyes open and a can of mace at close command when walking from house to car in the dark, and that it’s even better in certain situations for her to have a man walking with her.
That, however, just begins the issue of feminine vulnerability. Women are, and always have been, susceptible to attack in ways men are either not or are less so. Not simply physically, but emotionally as well: with the strength of a fine-tuned sensitivity to feeling comes the dangers of too-natural tendencies toward overdependency or tolerance of abuse.
The feminists and I agree that abuse and chronic neediness should not exist. But the feminists go wrong in propagating the idea that a woman can become whole by entirely throwing off the ‘shackles’ of patriarchy. While a woman can (and should be able to) live unshattered without the presence of husband or father or brother in some immediate form of protective role, women who choose this or do it too well usually lose something of the feminine softness and sensitivity that portrays grace to the world.
Centrally, that softness has nothing to do with the stereotypical doormat-submission or wilting-flower mentality, nor any reference to the clichéd comparison between the tree-climbing tomboy and the parlor-dweller. It is, however, an indispensable part of woman’s beauty. And real possession of that female grace depends on a girl’s acceptance of her own vulnerability.
With few exceptions, the single women I’ve known either hold out the hope for a man to come through for them (with varying degrees of realistic expectations) or bitch with the other gals about how men have let them down.
The idea that a girl should kick down every door in her path and save herself by herself is standard Hollywood idealism nowadays, marketed generally to girls old enough to have tasted some bitterness in relating to men. While most women want to show off some toughness and independence—along with stunning beauty—the whole girl-to-her-own-lonely-rescue ideal just doesn’t fit fully with the girl heart, and it doesn’t replace what a girl loses in refusing to accept the strength of masculinity that offers her protection.
Like it or not, a woman’s heart contains the desire to be fought for and rescued by a man. And without that, a woman is—quite simply—missing out.
“…Unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor!
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads…”
–Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew
Normally Martha Brockenbrough’s work makes me laugh, and I got some chuckles out of this piece. So I won’t criticize it thoroughly, although it’s clear she’s either never seen The Princess Diaries (first or second) all the way through or she’s mixed it up with another storyline.
But, while the probably-innocent-but-rather-drastic misinterpretation of one of my favorite movies annoyed me mildly, the question that has haunted me ever since is one that, if spoken too loudly, could easily draw a fair share of feminist ire. I’m not normally fond of being intentionally and overtly controversial, but this one just bugs me.
Here’s the question: What’s so bad about a girl wanting to be rescued?
The obvious answer given, of course, is that a woman should be capable of taking care of herself and confidently in control of her own destiny. The problem is that reality limits the practicability of such things.
No, I’m not advocating ignorance, stupidity or inanity for women. I happen to like being sensible and educated. Part of any decent education for girls, however, is an understanding of vulnerability: feminine, as well as human, vulnerability. Every daughter should be taught keen character judgment and an eye for what sort of man is worth investing herself in, as well as which girls make good friends. She should also learn of the danger of going certain places alone; that it’s a good idea for a girl to keep her head up, her eyes open and a can of mace at close command when walking from house to car in the dark, and that it’s even better in certain situations for her to have a man walking with her.
That, however, just begins the issue of feminine vulnerability. Women are, and always have been, susceptible to attack in ways men are either not or are less so. Not simply physically, but emotionally as well: with the strength of a fine-tuned sensitivity to feeling comes the dangers of too-natural tendencies toward overdependency or tolerance of abuse.
The feminists and I agree that abuse and chronic neediness should not exist. But the feminists go wrong in propagating the idea that a woman can become whole by entirely throwing off the ‘shackles’ of patriarchy. While a woman can (and should be able to) live unshattered without the presence of husband or father or brother in some immediate form of protective role, women who choose this or do it too well usually lose something of the feminine softness and sensitivity that portrays grace to the world.
Centrally, that softness has nothing to do with the stereotypical doormat-submission or wilting-flower mentality, nor any reference to the clichéd comparison between the tree-climbing tomboy and the parlor-dweller. It is, however, an indispensable part of woman’s beauty. And real possession of that female grace depends on a girl’s acceptance of her own vulnerability.
With few exceptions, the single women I’ve known either hold out the hope for a man to come through for them (with varying degrees of realistic expectations) or bitch with the other gals about how men have let them down.
The idea that a girl should kick down every door in her path and save herself by herself is standard Hollywood idealism nowadays, marketed generally to girls old enough to have tasted some bitterness in relating to men. While most women want to show off some toughness and independence—along with stunning beauty—the whole girl-to-her-own-lonely-rescue ideal just doesn’t fit fully with the girl heart, and it doesn’t replace what a girl loses in refusing to accept the strength of masculinity that offers her protection.
Like it or not, a woman’s heart contains the desire to be fought for and rescued by a man. And without that, a woman is—quite simply—missing out.
“…Unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor!
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads…”
–Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew
3.18.2007
Ramblings of the Week
Today, having forgotten some of the blogging-inspiration that hit me often during the week but never near available time, I asked my sister Beth what I should blog about. She reeled off quite a list, including experiencing writer's block, the coming of spring, my favorite-song-of-the-week, and her own sense of losing her mind due to the impending arrival of finals week. "Or you could write," she said, "about how you've always wanted to get onto a rowing team, and how you didn't know how to get onto a rowing team because you couldn't swim." I had opened my mouth to protest that I actually do have some rudimentary swimming ability when she added "And by you, I mean me."
She can swim as well as I can. And rowing could be fun. You get to be in a boat, much like raft guiding (which I have done) but you don't have to worry about what moving water does when it hits rocks, submerged train cars and low-head dams. Not being much of a thrill-seeker, I like the sound of that.
Beth is right about spring coming, and it makes me happy. The early-blooming pink and white trees, which people tell me are cherry trees, are blossoming extravagantly right now. Other signs of returning warmth have appeared as well. The Saint and I took a walk up into the forest today, and I found leaf-buds poking their way out of the end of branches. A robin hopped along the side of the path and watched us, too. Robins mean spring generally, although the Saint says they never really go away around here. I like that about Washington.
Beth is also right about me and writer's block. One song has me stuck now, trying to arrange my ideas; other emotions have so far totally refused to submit to the form of words and melody. I'll corner them yet.
As for a favorite song of the week, I'll just say that after ten years of reigning as my favorite female vocalist, LeAnn Rimes has to make some room at the top for Hayley Westenra. Hayley deserves congratulations for being the first artist to make me buy two CDs at once. I particularly love the "Prayer" off of Odyssey and... well, most of the Pure CD. When she got around to singing "Heaven" on Pure, I have to admit it brought tears to my eyes. Right there at my desk at work.
Speaking of music, we sang Amazing Grace in church today. Five verses. Though twenty-nine years of being a Baptist had taught me to belt out four verses with my eyes closed, I hadn't heard this one since childhood:
The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
I liked it. And I liked singing it with the Saint, on our knees. Or maybe we'd just stood up out of kneeling... anyway, it was good.
As to whether anyone can lose their mind, over finals or anything else, and still find the wit to make me laugh out loud... I leave it to yourselves to determine.
She can swim as well as I can. And rowing could be fun. You get to be in a boat, much like raft guiding (which I have done) but you don't have to worry about what moving water does when it hits rocks, submerged train cars and low-head dams. Not being much of a thrill-seeker, I like the sound of that.
Beth is right about spring coming, and it makes me happy. The early-blooming pink and white trees, which people tell me are cherry trees, are blossoming extravagantly right now. Other signs of returning warmth have appeared as well. The Saint and I took a walk up into the forest today, and I found leaf-buds poking their way out of the end of branches. A robin hopped along the side of the path and watched us, too. Robins mean spring generally, although the Saint says they never really go away around here. I like that about Washington.
Beth is also right about me and writer's block. One song has me stuck now, trying to arrange my ideas; other emotions have so far totally refused to submit to the form of words and melody. I'll corner them yet.
As for a favorite song of the week, I'll just say that after ten years of reigning as my favorite female vocalist, LeAnn Rimes has to make some room at the top for Hayley Westenra. Hayley deserves congratulations for being the first artist to make me buy two CDs at once. I particularly love the "Prayer" off of Odyssey and... well, most of the Pure CD. When she got around to singing "Heaven" on Pure, I have to admit it brought tears to my eyes. Right there at my desk at work.
Speaking of music, we sang Amazing Grace in church today. Five verses. Though twenty-nine years of being a Baptist had taught me to belt out four verses with my eyes closed, I hadn't heard this one since childhood:
The Lord has promised good to me,
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.
I liked it. And I liked singing it with the Saint, on our knees. Or maybe we'd just stood up out of kneeling... anyway, it was good.
As to whether anyone can lose their mind, over finals or anything else, and still find the wit to make me laugh out loud... I leave it to yourselves to determine.
3.11.2007
Another Good Chesterton Quote
...not from Orthodoxy this time, although there's about half a chapter of that I'd like to put in here, if only I had the time and space...
I came across this, rather randomly, in a book by John Stott the other day, and liked it too much not to share it.
"You say grace before meals.
All right.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."
Quoted in Dudley Barker, G. K. Chesterton, A Biography (Constable, 1973), p. 65, from unpublished notebook jottings.
Stott, J. (1996; 2007). The Message of 1 Timothy and Titus (115). Inter-Varsity Press.
I came across this, rather randomly, in a book by John Stott the other day, and liked it too much not to share it.
"You say grace before meals.
All right.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink."
Quoted in Dudley Barker, G. K. Chesterton, A Biography (Constable, 1973), p. 65, from unpublished notebook jottings.
Stott, J. (1996; 2007). The Message of 1 Timothy and Titus (115). Inter-Varsity Press.
Of course, Chesterton, a Catholic, said grace before meals too... just in case anybody wondered :-)
3.04.2007
This Week 3/4/07
Numerous times this week I have found myself thinking "Oh, I should post that..." Posting, however, or even catching up with the internet, has not made it from the "want to do" list to the "have to do" list (about half of which has not been done, either.) Here, though, are the things I have thought of posting, in chronological order:
Tuesday: A pound of butter fell out of my freezer and landed on my foot. As to why that amused me enough to want to tell everybody, however, I have no idea.
Thursday: My inner child and I are in close touch. I can tell, because this, which I found in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha*, makes me snicker:
"25 [Ben Bag-Bag said: Turn it, and turn it again, for the whole is in it, and the whole of thee is in it; and from it swerve not, for there is to thee no greater good than it.]
26 [Ben He-He said: According to the toil is the pay.]"
Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2004 (R. H. Charles, Ed.) (2:710). Logos Research Systems, Inc.
* pseud•epig•ra•phon noun plural pseud•epig•ra•pha 2. any of various pseudonymous or anonymous Jewish religious writings of the period 200 b.c. to 200 a.d.; especially : one of such writings (as the Psalms of Solomon) not included in any canon of biblical Scripture — usually used in plural
Merriam-Webster, I. (1996, c1993). Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary. Includes index. (10th ed.). Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.: Merriam-Webster.
Friday: Spent an hour in silent prayer at one of the most beautiful old churches in town. The importance of beauty in church design is a topic for another post; about this evening, however, I will simply say that on my knees before Christ I felt more strongly than I have in three years like I stood on solid rock in my faith. Feeling (by itself), of course, while it guarantees neither reality nor future perseverance, does matter and does help. God forbid that I underrate the power of a sense of confidence in Him when, since the close of 2003, faith has too often been a matter of desperate and almost hopeless clinging. Friday night I felt like that lackluster determination had finally been reinforced by the brilliancy of sincere and unclouded hope and trust. All I can say is Thank God.
Saturday: Beth and I watched Stranger than Fiction, and I couldn't tell you how long it's been since I saw a new romantic comedy that good. Maybe not since Return to Me. Be forewarned, ye who would watch: there's about thirty seconds of time dedicated to achieving its PG-13 rating. Get past that and you've got a great story: artistically and mentally interesting, hilarious, and poignant--I don't often catch myself caring so deeply about what happens to a character. You'll love Harold Crick too; you don't have to be a Will Ferrell fan to do so.
Sunday: Celebrated the birthday, though a few days late, of one of the greatest and humblest men on earth; a man who has lived and worked quietly, selflessly, faithfully for God and his family through the course of many years; a pastor at heart, a fireman and EMT, a wealth of skill towards house and home, body and soul--my father. Happy Birthday, Dad.
Tuesday: A pound of butter fell out of my freezer and landed on my foot. As to why that amused me enough to want to tell everybody, however, I have no idea.
Thursday: My inner child and I are in close touch. I can tell, because this, which I found in the Old Testament Pseudepigrapha*, makes me snicker:
"25 [Ben Bag-Bag said: Turn it, and turn it again, for the whole is in it, and the whole of thee is in it; and from it swerve not, for there is to thee no greater good than it.]
26 [Ben He-He said: According to the toil is the pay.]"
Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. 2004 (R. H. Charles, Ed.) (2:710). Logos Research Systems, Inc.
* pseud•epig•ra•phon noun plural pseud•epig•ra•pha 2. any of various pseudonymous or anonymous Jewish religious writings of the period 200 b.c. to 200 a.d.; especially : one of such writings (as the Psalms of Solomon) not included in any canon of biblical Scripture — usually used in plural
Merriam-Webster, I. (1996, c1993). Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary. Includes index. (10th ed.). Springfield, Mass., U.S.A.: Merriam-Webster.
Friday: Spent an hour in silent prayer at one of the most beautiful old churches in town. The importance of beauty in church design is a topic for another post; about this evening, however, I will simply say that on my knees before Christ I felt more strongly than I have in three years like I stood on solid rock in my faith. Feeling (by itself), of course, while it guarantees neither reality nor future perseverance, does matter and does help. God forbid that I underrate the power of a sense of confidence in Him when, since the close of 2003, faith has too often been a matter of desperate and almost hopeless clinging. Friday night I felt like that lackluster determination had finally been reinforced by the brilliancy of sincere and unclouded hope and trust. All I can say is Thank God.
Saturday: Beth and I watched Stranger than Fiction, and I couldn't tell you how long it's been since I saw a new romantic comedy that good. Maybe not since Return to Me. Be forewarned, ye who would watch: there's about thirty seconds of time dedicated to achieving its PG-13 rating. Get past that and you've got a great story: artistically and mentally interesting, hilarious, and poignant--I don't often catch myself caring so deeply about what happens to a character. You'll love Harold Crick too; you don't have to be a Will Ferrell fan to do so.
Sunday: Celebrated the birthday, though a few days late, of one of the greatest and humblest men on earth; a man who has lived and worked quietly, selflessly, faithfully for God and his family through the course of many years; a pastor at heart, a fireman and EMT, a wealth of skill towards house and home, body and soul--my father. Happy Birthday, Dad.
2.23.2007
One Year
This blog is one year old today!
By-the-bye, I wonder how many of my posts, percentage-wise, have talked about milestones... probably a pretty high number there. Ah well.
One year with this little online journal, and today I enjoy it just as much as at the beginning. It keeps me in perspective, somehow; forcing myself to write and think through things keeps my mind from getting caught in analytical whirlpools :-)
At any rate, it's a good thing for me, and now and again someone tells me there's something good about it for them as well. Here's to many more years of blogging!
By-the-bye, I wonder how many of my posts, percentage-wise, have talked about milestones... probably a pretty high number there. Ah well.
One year with this little online journal, and today I enjoy it just as much as at the beginning. It keeps me in perspective, somehow; forcing myself to write and think through things keeps my mind from getting caught in analytical whirlpools :-)
At any rate, it's a good thing for me, and now and again someone tells me there's something good about it for them as well. Here's to many more years of blogging!
2.22.2007
My Sister Blogs
...shocking, for those of you who know Beth :-P
Anyways, she posted a blog on her Myspace tonight and it made me laugh, so I decided to share it. Click here for Beth's thoughts on listening to music.
Love y'all!
Anyways, she posted a blog on her Myspace tonight and it made me laugh, so I decided to share it. Click here for Beth's thoughts on listening to music.
Love y'all!
2.20.2007
First Lent
Having grown up Baptist, I understand Christmas and Easter and know a little bit about Palm Sunday and Advent. Lent, however, as the acknowledged territory mainly of liturgically-driven churches such as Catholics, Anglicans, and Lutherans, has always been a bit of a mystery.
This year, therefore, I’m celebrating my first Lent, which starts tomorrow with Ash Wednesday. I'm pretty excited about it; there's an incredible awe and joy in taking a physical step intended to express and nourish spiritual devotion. I've fasted before, of course, so I'm at least familiar with that concept.
For my first Lenten season, I am giving up… dun duh dah… Harry Potter. Hopefully that doesn't sound blasphemous to anyone! I can understand concern about how Harry Potter takes a position in my life strong enough merit fasting from, though, so let me explain my rationale here :-)
I am choosing to go forty days without Harry Potter (except Sundays, which are free from fasting) because reading the Harry Potter books, as well as talking and thinking and reading about Harry and company, is for me a mode of relaxation and enjoyment. Some people play computer games, some people watch this or that TV show, some people eat chocolate. I thought about giving up chocolate, actually, but every girl does that; besides, chocolate for me ranks not in the category of mere wants, but basic needs :-P The point is, anyway, that I read Harry Potter for uplifting and an antidote to stress when my brain won’t handle much else. I go get a laugh at the exploits of Harry and friends or borrow some inspiration from their courage. I have also read the books quite a bit in the year and a quarter since I first brought home The Sorcerer's Stone, so a break seemed like a good idea.
While I could have chosen fiction in general as my sacrifice, that seemed more likely to accentuate stress rather than spur on devotion for me. Since I rarely watch movies or television, reading fiction is almost my only means of complete relaxation. And probably if this were not such a big year for Harry—with the release of movie #5 and the final book coming in July—the series’ effect on my life wouldn’t really qualify for sacrifice over such a limited time.
As it is, however, from Ash Wednesday to Easter I am not reading any of the books, following news (anything big that comes up can be reviewed on Sundays only), looking Harry up on Wikipedia or fan sites, or initiating conversations about the series. I will also remove Hermione from my IM pictures and should probably take her off my Xanga, too, come to think of it. If all this proves ‘too easy’ for me, I’ll add to the sacrifice for holy week.
Anyway, here’s to my first Lent. God grant that I find more of Christ through it…
This year, therefore, I’m celebrating my first Lent, which starts tomorrow with Ash Wednesday. I'm pretty excited about it; there's an incredible awe and joy in taking a physical step intended to express and nourish spiritual devotion. I've fasted before, of course, so I'm at least familiar with that concept.
For my first Lenten season, I am giving up… dun duh dah… Harry Potter. Hopefully that doesn't sound blasphemous to anyone! I can understand concern about how Harry Potter takes a position in my life strong enough merit fasting from, though, so let me explain my rationale here :-)
I am choosing to go forty days without Harry Potter (except Sundays, which are free from fasting) because reading the Harry Potter books, as well as talking and thinking and reading about Harry and company, is for me a mode of relaxation and enjoyment. Some people play computer games, some people watch this or that TV show, some people eat chocolate. I thought about giving up chocolate, actually, but every girl does that; besides, chocolate for me ranks not in the category of mere wants, but basic needs :-P The point is, anyway, that I read Harry Potter for uplifting and an antidote to stress when my brain won’t handle much else. I go get a laugh at the exploits of Harry and friends or borrow some inspiration from their courage. I have also read the books quite a bit in the year and a quarter since I first brought home The Sorcerer's Stone, so a break seemed like a good idea.
While I could have chosen fiction in general as my sacrifice, that seemed more likely to accentuate stress rather than spur on devotion for me. Since I rarely watch movies or television, reading fiction is almost my only means of complete relaxation. And probably if this were not such a big year for Harry—with the release of movie #5 and the final book coming in July—the series’ effect on my life wouldn’t really qualify for sacrifice over such a limited time.
As it is, however, from Ash Wednesday to Easter I am not reading any of the books, following news (anything big that comes up can be reviewed on Sundays only), looking Harry up on Wikipedia or fan sites, or initiating conversations about the series. I will also remove Hermione from my IM pictures and should probably take her off my Xanga, too, come to think of it. If all this proves ‘too easy’ for me, I’ll add to the sacrifice for holy week.
Anyway, here’s to my first Lent. God grant that I find more of Christ through it…
2.17.2007
Schrödinger's Bedroom
Calling all AI fans! Even if you're not a regular American Idol watcher, though, keep reading--I've still got something for you.
FOX Network welcomes its new show, On the Lot, in the spring. Formatted just like American Idol--I wonder, by-the-bye, who they'll get to make offbeat analogies and harsh "realistic" comments, since presumably Simon Cowell won't be one of the judges--this talent competition will be for movie directors.
Which brings me to my friend Chris Knight, whose movie-making credentials include a hilarious 50-minute Star Wars fan film called "Forcery" and several school-board campaign commercials, one of which included a scene of a Death Star blowing up a schoolhouse and which got him in the New York Times for creativity.
Chris is auditioning with a five-minute short by the title of "Schrödinger's Bedroom" --a piece which he wrote, casted, shot, edited, and submitted in only a month. If you want a laugh, go over and check it out. If you're an AI fan (or movie fan, for that matter) and you think On the Lot might be interesting too--since I don't mind shamelessly plugging for friends with talent, I'll suggest you watch for Chris there, too :-)
And just in case you don't feel I've given you enough reasons to see this little movie yet: for those of you who tell me you read this blog, at least, I can guarantee that someone you know made a cameo appearance :-D
FOX Network welcomes its new show, On the Lot, in the spring. Formatted just like American Idol--I wonder, by-the-bye, who they'll get to make offbeat analogies and harsh "realistic" comments, since presumably Simon Cowell won't be one of the judges--this talent competition will be for movie directors.
Which brings me to my friend Chris Knight, whose movie-making credentials include a hilarious 50-minute Star Wars fan film called "Forcery" and several school-board campaign commercials, one of which included a scene of a Death Star blowing up a schoolhouse and which got him in the New York Times for creativity.
Chris is auditioning with a five-minute short by the title of "Schrödinger's Bedroom" --a piece which he wrote, casted, shot, edited, and submitted in only a month. If you want a laugh, go over and check it out. If you're an AI fan (or movie fan, for that matter) and you think On the Lot might be interesting too--since I don't mind shamelessly plugging for friends with talent, I'll suggest you watch for Chris there, too :-)
And just in case you don't feel I've given you enough reasons to see this little movie yet: for those of you who tell me you read this blog, at least, I can guarantee that someone you know made a cameo appearance :-D
2.12.2007
Not Posting about Not Posting
Standard operating procedure for bloggers who don't post faithfully is to put up a post about not posting faithfully, so I'm going to be a bit of a rebel, and post about something else.
For tonight, considering the current proximity to midnight, I don't have much to offer beyond the weather; so I'll just say that after ten Washington winters, I would not have expected pleasure at the sight of rain. This year's two full weeks of snow, however, binding me to the (albeit generous) WTA schedule for work, confining the Saint and I in different parts of town, and forcing me to get creative with canned chicken and tomato sauce, have given me a new appreciation for the normal 'rainy season.' I can drive my car without fear for either its or my own safety in the rain. And I have to admit that this beautiful little corner of the country even looks good in gray--gray with a green cast along the lawns and among the conifers, and occasional cream-colored scoring in the clouds.
I'm still holding out for summer, though. We had a glorious weekend--so warm that I took a walk in the sunshine without a coat. Spring is coming! 36 days and counting...
For tonight, considering the current proximity to midnight, I don't have much to offer beyond the weather; so I'll just say that after ten Washington winters, I would not have expected pleasure at the sight of rain. This year's two full weeks of snow, however, binding me to the (albeit generous) WTA schedule for work, confining the Saint and I in different parts of town, and forcing me to get creative with canned chicken and tomato sauce, have given me a new appreciation for the normal 'rainy season.' I can drive my car without fear for either its or my own safety in the rain. And I have to admit that this beautiful little corner of the country even looks good in gray--gray with a green cast along the lawns and among the conifers, and occasional cream-colored scoring in the clouds.
I'm still holding out for summer, though. We had a glorious weekend--so warm that I took a walk in the sunshine without a coat. Spring is coming! 36 days and counting...
2.04.2007
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