Watts Up With Rhonda

You Were Here

2011-12-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

(a poem for Christmas)

You were here
You were visible, the image
of the invisible God
You were a baby
a human child, the Son of Man
the Living God with a tiny heartbeat
and tiny hands and feet
that would be pierced for our transgressions
the soft downy head of a baby
that would one day wear a crown of thorns
the little chubby arms
that would one day spread wide on a cross
to save the world

You were here
on earth, physical and tangible
the breath of the world in Your human lungs
and the breath of God in Your infant's cry
You were the vastness of the universe
cradled in a mother's arms
You were, and are, the song of angels
the quiet hope of longing hearts
the long-awaited culmination
of all of history
until the moment You were born

You were here
You came
and even if the stars shone brighter
or the roses smelled sweeter
or the bright air was thicker and more humming with life
on the night You came
the world held no beauty but this:

You were here

Help a Girl, Change the World.

2011-10-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

The world is broken. We know that. We also know that God has called us to bring His Kingdom on Earth, to help the poor and the needy and the lost, to "speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves" (Proverbs 31:8).

But the problems in this world are so many and so daunting and huge, where do we even start? The answer: girls. Take a look at these stats, courtesy of The Girl Effect:

When a girl in the developing world receives seven or more years of education, she marries four years later and has 2.2 fewer children.

(United Nations Population Fund, State of World Population 1990.)

An extra year of primary school boosts girls’ eventual wages by 10 to 20 percent. An extra year of secondary school, 15 to 25 percent.

(George Psacharopoulos and Harry Anthony Patrinos, “Returns to Investment in Education: A Further Update,” Policy Research Working Paper 2881[Washington, D.C.: World Bank, 2002].)

Research in developing countries has shown a consistent relationship between better infant and child health and higher levels of schooling among mothers.

(George T. Bicego and J. Ties Boerma, “Maternal Education and Child Survival: A Comparative Study of Survey Data from 17 Countries,” Social Science and Medicine 36 (9) [May 1993]:1207–27.)

When women and girls earn income, they reinvest 90 percent of it into their families, as compared to only 30 to 40 percent for a man.

(Chris Fortson, “Women’s Rights Vital for Developing World,” Yale News Daily 2003.)

Think about it: girls are future mothers, as well as future community leaders, all over the world. Invest in a girl, provide healthy food and a safe place for her to live and send her to school, and she will grow up educated and strong and healthy, capable of raising healthy children, when she is ready to have them, and able to earn her own money and lead her community wisely.

This is true in the developing world, and also in our own country. We think abortion rates are a problem, but they are only a symptom of an even worse problem: the lack of a safe, nurturing environment and quality education for far too many children. Girls who grow up in poverty, social or domestic turmoil, and in a less-than-quality school are far more likely to drop out of school and get pregnant too young, and then to abort their pregnancies. If we want to see abortion rates drop, legislation prohibiting abortion is not going to help very much; we have start at the source.

Abortion is just one issue that can be positively affected by investing in girls. Just think: if every girl in the world between the ages of five and 10 right now were living in a safe and loving home, getting healthy meals and medical care and attending school, and it was guaranteed that they would all stay that way, the world would start to look a little different in a few years. Teen pregnancy and child marriage would drop dramatically, as well as human trafficking and slavery. In 10, 15, 20 years, virtually every child born would be a wanted child, a healthy child, a loved child. Communities all over the world would be safer, stronger, healthier. The world would be better.

Sounds great, doesn't it?

But it's not that easy. There are more than 600 million girls in the developing world alone. This is a Big Job. We can't change the world all at once, but as we serve God through serving the poor, together, we can change the world one girl at a time.

The Problem

2011-09-26T12:41:00.000-07:00

I find religions fascinating, and I have a sort of hobby of studying different religions. In studying any religion, my main question is always the same: since we recognize that there is this problem of evil in the world, what does this religion say is the solution to that problem? We know that there is something wrong with the world and with humanity, so how does this religion propose to repair that damage?

We all have to realize that there is something wrong with the world, that it is not as it was meant to be; we have to know this because we see crime and disease and poverty, we see people suffering and it makes us angry, it makes us want to fix it. Why would we have doctors if sickness was supposed to exist? Why would we have laws and a justice system if it was OK for people to steal and cheat and take advantage of one another? Why would we crave justice, or even be able comprehend the ideal of justice, if there wasn't something that told us it could exist, even though we don't often see it in the world?

And we have to realize that there is something wrong with us as humans, not just criminals, but all of us; we have to know this because we've noticed that sometimes even when we know what the right thing to do is, we don't do it, and sometimes even when we know something is wrong, we still do it. So we have to realize that there is something wrong with us. And we may even realize that if we could fix what's wrong with us, maybe that would get us closer to fixing the world.

I've found that the mistake many religions make is in trying to fix the problem with actions, doing good things to make up for the bad things we've done. But there is a fatal flaw in this thinking: the root of the problem is not in our actions. The bad things we do are not the real problem; they are a symptom of the real problem: our selfish nature. So, since the problem doesn't come from our actions, it can't be solved by our actions, either. Since the problem is in our internal nature, it has to be solved by changing our internal nature.

So how do we do that?

The Girl Effect

2011-08-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

The Human Story: a Review of "Havah" by Tosca Lee

2011-07-13T17:08:00.000-07:00

This re-imagining of a biblical tale is, at its heart, the story of God's relentless love for humanity.

When an author novelizes an already well-known story, especially one as ingrained in both secular and Church culture as that of the world's first woman, she takes a huge risk. Virtually every reader who picks up the book will have preconceived ideas about Adam and Eve, the Garden of Eden, original sin, and primeval history that they'll, consciously or sub-, be expecting to see verified. This is the risk that Tosca Lee has taken withher novel Havah: the Story of Eve.

In her author's note, Lee acknowledges the familiarity most readers already have with the story and explains her choice to use the characters' Hebrew names in an effort to distance her retelling from our expectations. Eve becomes Havah, though Adam's name stays the same, and their sons become Kayin (Cain), Hevel (Abel), and Shet (Seth).

The beginning of the novel introduces a problem: how do you describe a place that only two people in the history of the world have ever seen? Lee's solution is rather simple: there isn't a whole lot of description, and I think that was the right choice. Describing the Garden of Eden would be like trying to describe Heaven, though to a lesser degree: too prone to cliché and abstract to be really satisfying. It is enough to know that it is a perfect place, where the relationships between God and human, man and woman, are pure and untainted, honest and beautiful. Just enough of this state of perfection is shown to make us feel the loss of it.

The point at which the story changes from that of two people and their Creator in Paradise tothat of the world as we know it is, of course, the Fall. This is really the climax of the novel, though it is only 60 pages in. Up until now, we have only been given glimpses of the woman's desire for knowledge and understanding of God and snatches of her conversations with the mysterious serpent, who seems to be the only other creature who has the same curiosity that she does; it is this curiosity and desire for knowledge that in the end motivate her to eat of the tree.

But I couldn't understand, solely based on the content of the novel, why two people who have a literally perfect life would so easily go against the wishes and warnings of the One who gave them life. Of course I know that Adam and Eve did sin, but if I hadn't known the story before reading the book, the book wouldn't have convinced me.

If the build-up was slightly lacking, though, Lee makes up for it in the riveting moment itself. In the novel, as in the Genesis account, the man is present the whole time for that fateful scene—he witnesses the woman's conversation with the serpent and sees her grapple with the decision to eat the fruit. He even almost encourages her to sin in the fictional account, putting the decision for both of them into her hands and saying, “We are one flesh. We live or die the death together.”

That's probably not exactly how it went down, but it is effective in showing that the blame for the first sin is shared equally between the two genders. Gender equality is something that Lee acknowledges in her author's note was important for her to show in the novel, an equality “designed by God, recorded by the Genesis author and influenced—for good or ill—by the world.”

The man and woman's equality is marred by the Fall—though still equal, they can never understand each other the way they used to. This state of misunderstanding unfolds with gradual heartbreaking realization, their separation from each other almost as devastating as their exile from the Garden and the continual, tangible presence of their beloved Creator. The lightning storm and earthquake that accompany their flight from the Garden are the violent physical manifestation of the breaking heart of God.

The remaining three quarters of the novel in a way function as a fictionalized account of the first thousand years of human history. It's fascinating to watch the development of human invention, to see the advancement of ideas and technology in agriculture, in writing, in metal working and city-building. But through it all there is woven a thread of darkness, the shadow of the Fall. This darkness is witnessed in Kayin's murder of his brother Hevel and in the barriers it places between Kayin and his family. The darkness is also seen much later when people begin to corrupt the worship of the One true God, and even to worship false gods.

Havah never forgets that the world is not as it should be, and that it was her decision that made it that way. But she also never gives up hope that the world will be restored. In a dream near the end of the novel she has a glimpse of how that restoration is to come about: she watches as an animal sacrifice burns on the altar, then changes into a man, “Adam made new. As I stare, he plucks from the shrub the small fruit,” the fruit of the tree that gives eternal life.

Reappropriation of the Third Reich

2011-06-08T17:40:00.000-07:00

Hitler and Eva Braun in 1942
(Photo courtesy of the German Federal Archive)

If you have ever watched anything on YouTube, you probably at least know about the Hitler videos. You know, those videos where Hitler finds out that Santa isn't real, or gets banned from Xbox Live, or is disappointed with his new iPad--and then rants and raves about his misfortune. Those parody videos that have taken a scene from a film that is conveniently in German, so the parodists can write whatever they want in English subtitles.

The film is 2004's Downfall (Der Untergang in German), and it depicts the last days of Hitler's Third Reich in a bunker in Berlin:

The scene that most of the parody videos use is one in which Hitler finds out that a key piece of his battle plan has not fallen into place, and at this point he is a fair way into realizing that he will ultimately fail. What's interesting about the parodies is that most of them have retained that sense of failure. This one is one of my favorites, because it's kind of meta:

These parodies are pretty funny, I think, but why are they so funny, and so popular? What is so compelling about this idea of taking one of the most hated men in history and putting ridiculous and petty words in his mouth? Is it the ridiculousness itself?

After a bit of research and thinking, I've synthesized that comedy often springs from the juxtaposition of two vastly different ideas or concepts, with the implication that the two ideas are related somehow. So, you take Adolf Hitler, universal symbol of fascism and genocide, and make him throw a tantrum over, not losing his long and bloody war fueled by racism and the ignorance and fear he deliberately fostered in his people, but over his iPad. Boom! Comedy.

In the nearly 70 years since the fall of the Third Reich, the world has become somewhat desensitized to the horrors of that time. Many of those now living who were alive back then were likely too young to grasp the full magnitude of the evilness of this idea, that an entire race of people should be brutally murdered solely because of their heritage, and the desolation and violence that that idea wrought as it spread.

We are far enough removed from that time that we can make jokes about it; we can make Hitler a buffoon and a cult figure, make him yell at Kanye West and Lady Gaga and his mother for lying to him about Santa Claus. We are even far enough removed that people have begun to use Hitler's name and the terms "fascist" and "Nazi" as ill-fitting insults, as (a re-subtitled) Hitler finds out:

In his review of Downfall, Roger Ebert commented, "As we regard this broken and pathetic Hitler, we realize that he did not alone create the Third Reich, but was the focus for a spontaneous uprising by many of the German people, fueled by racism, xenophobia, grandiosity and fear. He was skilled in the ways he exploited that feeling, and surrounded himself by gifted strategists and propagandists, but he was not a great man, simply one armed by fate to unleash unimaginable evil."

The power of evil lies in fear. As time has passed and the world has changed and we have begun to laugh, the memory of that particular fear has faded, stripping that evil of its power. Hitler parodies are not evidence, then, of a desensitization, or not only that, but evidence that the world, in some small way, has healed.

The film's director, Oliver Hirschbiegel, responded positively to the parody videos being made of that famous bunker scene, saying, "The point of the film was to kick these terrible people off the throne that made them demons, making them real and their actions into reality. I think it's only fair if now it's taken as part of our history, and used for whatever purposes people like."

Hitler will always be a part of history, like Napoleon and Alexander the Great. And like those other two would-be world conquerors, there may come a day, albeit probably very far in the future, mind you, when people forget to hate him. For now, we have a way of humorously expressing common problems in life and our opinions on society and culture.

As a commenter on one of the videos on YouTube, under the name FortitudeOfHeaven, so aptly put it, "Hitler has now become our internet social/political commentator on current events for years to come. His episodes frame the frustrations we face from the setbacks of our time."

And yes, I would kill Hitler for a hot dog.

Bear Witness*

2011-05-13T23:03:00.000-07:00

A tree is a banner,
each leaf a flag,
a standard borne
with bud upon root
and grace upon grace,
the Spirit that seeps into the ground
to make things grow: the light, the heat
that makes you new
makes every breath a love song and
the stars cry glory and
a baby's laughter echo across the universe,
thunder in a bluebell,
soul in the dark,
a grave in the sky;
tells your eyes what your heart's been missing.

*The title of this poem was inspired by a prayer from Saint Augustine called "The Beauty of Creation Bears Witness to God." This is the prayer:

Question the beauty of the earth, the beauty of the sea, the beauty of the wide air around you, the beauty of the sky; question the order of the stars, the sun whose brightness lights the days, the moon whose splendor softens the gloom of night; question the living creatures that move in the waters, that roam upon the earth, that fly through the air; the spirit that lies hidden, the matter that is manifest; the visible things that are ruled, the invisible things that rule them; question all these. They will answer you: "Behold and see, we are beautiful." Their beauty is their confession to God. Who made these beautiful changing things, if not one who is beautiful and changeth not?

The poem itself was inspired by Psalm 19:1 ("The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands."), Romans 1:20 ("For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities--His eternal power and divine nature--have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."), and a really, really big tree that I saw the other day.

Handmade Blogging

2011-05-03T21:45:00.000-07:00

I was feeling crafty the other day, so I pulled out my mom's scrapbooking supplies and an unused composition book and made this:

I thought this verse was perfect for a writing notebook: "You are a letter from Christ, written not with ink, but with the spirit of the living God." (2nd Corinthians 3:3)

I made a pocket inside the back cover...

And a ribbon bookmark.

The interwebs are OK, but right now I'm really excited to write in this notebook by hand!

It's a Nice Day for a Royal Wedding

2011-04-29T04:34:00.000-07:00

The alarm goes off at 3:30 a.m. I roll over, feeling as if I've just fallen asleep a moment before. I stumble out from under the covers, eyes barely open, and pull on my slippers and tiara. I love weddings, I'm slightly obsessed with royalty, and I'm more than a bit of an Anglophile; for me, today is like the Superbowl, the World Series and the Twilight premiere all rolled in to one.

I didn't wake up early enough to see the beginning of the wedding (1:30 a.m.? No thank you), so everyone is already in the church. That archbishop is kind of long-winded, but check out Westminster Abbey! Why would anyone want to be married anywhere else?

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were married in the chapel at St. James' Palace in London, which is OK, I guess. In their time there hadn't been a wedding at the Abbey in over 400 years, since Richard II in 1382. The tradition was revived in the 1920s, and almost every major British royal wedding has taken place there since. Every coronation since the Abbey's construction has taken place there, too.

I shuffle into the kitchen and try to make some tea (keeping with the British theme, of course) with my fancy new French press tea pot (birthday gift--in fact, I've decided that the royals planned the wedding on this date as their celebration of my birthday, which is only two days away). My sleep-addled brain can't figure out how the tea pot works, though, so, frustrated, I pour some of yesterday's coffee into a mug and shove it into the microwave for two minutes, then settle on the couch with my blankie.

The boys' choir is singing now. There's something so magical about a boys' choir. Like, it must have taken an enchantment to get those boys to sing. I also love the trees down the aisle. Whose idea was that?

I think the best part really is the dress. I love the lace and the silhouette and mostly I love the fact that it has sleeves! Finally! Maybe now brides will stop wearing skanky, ill-fitting strapless dresses that have become ubiquitous even in winter and wear something that actually looks good! Thank you, Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge, for bringing classy back.

Diana's dress was very different indeed. Puffy sleeves, sparkles, ruffles, a mile-long train. That was a lot of dress. She pulled it off, but not many girls could have.

I've finished my cup of coffee now and decided to give the tea another try. Abandoning the fancy tea pot, I just heat water in the microwave, add the tea leaves to brew for a little bit, then strain the tea into my cup with a spoon. A pinch of brown sugar and a drop of cream and it's perfect. I think I'll enjoy it with an apple oat muffin.

The bride and groom are exiting the church now. It's a looooong walk. I hope they have comfortable shoes. I think everyone should get to ride in an open-air horse-drawn carriage at least once in life. I personally would like one for everyday use. As the carriage heads toward Buckingham Palace, I'm told by an American entertainment news anchor who is proud of her research that it is now time for the "Countdown to the Kiss."

What she refers to is a tradition for British royal weddings for most of the past century: the newly married couple greets the people from the balcony of Buckingham Palace. The Queen kept this tradition herself during her wedding to the Duke of Edinburgh, when she was still Princess Elizabeth, back in 1947. And the current Prince of Wales and Diana expanded on it with the addition of a kiss, a real crowdpleaser.

The new Duke and Duchess don't disappoint the crowd, and after a few more minutes of waving and smiling, it appears that it's all over now. That's just as well. I've just witnessed a once-in-a-generation event, and even though it'll take me a week to get back on a normal sleeping schedule, I wouldn't have missed it for a kingdom.

Snow and Churches and Chocolate Milk

2011-02-23T12:46:00.000-08:00

1. Currently, there are bucket loads of snow falling out of the sky, coating the grass and even the pavement in a thickening blanket of stark white. When I was younger (OK, like a year younger) snow was reason for jubilation. Today, I'm just wondering if I'll be able to drive up the hill to get home.

2. Last night, a friend and I went to Calvary Community Church in Sumner for their young adult service. It was our first time there, and we already decided we're going back. We sang an old hymn, and it's been going through my head today. This is my favorite part:

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart:
His wounds have paid my ransom

It sounds really awesome accompanied by bass and drums and electric guitar.

3. Chocolate milk is delicious, especially with chocolate chip cookies.

Revelations in the Choir Room

2011-01-06T21:31:00.000-08:00

To celebrate my 75th blog post, here is an advance sneak peak at the project I'm working on now. Enjoy!

Many defining moments of my high school years happened in the choir room.

“What are you reading?” I asked my friend Jamie one day (in the choir room). I feel pretty confident, and not at all over dramatic, in saying that that question changed my life.

Now, when I say that my defining moments happened in the choir room, I mean that I was a choir kid. Yes, a choir kid. I was one of those kids who walked through the halls singing Broadway tunes and Schubert art songs alike at the top of my lungs with the other choir kids. One of those kids you probably told to can it, or pushed into a locker, or politely ignored, or even secretly admired, when you were in high school. We weren't trying to be annoying, honestly. In my case, at least, the joys of high school life were just so overwhelming that they often manifested themselves in effusive bursts of song. I couldn't help it.

Something wonderful happens when you sing with a choir, when all the parts come together into one voice, and you can feel the notes and rhythms sliding and swirling around you, and the music fills the room until your breath is vibrating with it. And then, just after the song has ended, it still hangs in the air for a split second, reverberates through the vast space of the universe and back to the closeness of your beating heart, before fading to silence. It's that fraction of a second, that echo that makes it all worth it. There is no thought, no movement, just the lingering remnant of an enchantment just ended.

It is that remnant, I think, that made the choir room such a magical place. And maybe it was because of that magic that I was fated to ask that life-changing question.

Rhonda Watts Christmas Gift Guide: 2010 Edition

2010-11-07T18:03:00.000-08:00

I love buying gifts for other people. At Christmas, I'm usually more excited about the gifts I'm giving than the ones I'm receiving. I love going to a store and finding the perfect present--something that I know that person will love, but that they probably wouldn't think to ask for. And then I love wrapping the gifts in paper and finding ribbon or a bow to coordinate, maybe with a gift tag that matches.

And I love watching people open their presents. I can always tell by someone's reaction whether he or she really likes what I got or not. And when I can see that they really love what I gave them, that is the best feeling for me, because it shows that I know them well enough and care about them enough to pick something out for them that they would have picked themselves.

I know that not everyone shares this feeling about gifts with me, and that's OK. But for anyone who's planning to get me a gift this Christmas and is at a loss on what to get, here are a few things that I really want this year, followed by a list of some other ideas. What's on your Christmas list?

This is what I want...

...to watch:

Bright Star
The title comes from a poem John Keats wrote to Fanny Brawne, and it is their relationship that this movie follows. I guess you could call it a biopic, but it's actually Brawne, not Keats, who is the real protagonist. She starts out like an Austen heroine, in a good family that has fallen on hard times, but she has the misfortune of falling in love with a man of great poetic genius, but no fortune. Brawne was also a fashion designer, creating all her own clothing, and the film highlights that well in the costuming.

The Unusuals: The Complete Series
A tragically short-lived police drama that lives up to its title in every way, starring Amber "Joan of Arcadia" Tamblyn, or Ambie Tambie as I affectionately call her (or would if we were actually friends). Tamblyn plays a trust fund baby who dropped out of Harvard to go to the police academy and join the NYPD. Jeremy "Hurt Locker" Renner plays her slightly more seasoned partner, whose old partner met an untimely and violent death under mysterious circumstances. The show has great characters, snappy dialogue, and inventive storytelling. Why ABC canceled The Unusuals but kept Grey's Anatomy is one of the mysteries of the universe.

...to read:

Half the Sky (Kristof & WuDunn)
Former New York Times writers Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn subtitled their book "Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide." The phrase "half the sky" comes from a Chinese proverb: "Women hold up half the sky." Kristof and WuDunn's argument centers on the idea that the most effective way to improve life in the third world, and all over the world, is to value and educate young women and girls. The book lays out an agenda for the world's women and three major abuses: sex trafficking and forced prostitution; gender-based violence including honor killings and mass rape; and maternal mortality, which needlessly claims one woman a minute. Half the Sky is both a strategic plan and a call to action that I can't wait to read.

Zombies vs. Unicorns (Black & Larbalestier)
This anthology contains 12 stories, each of which argues the case for either zombies or unicorns. I'm a little vague on which criteria zombies and unicorns are being judged on. Which is better? Which is more awesome? Which one would win in a fair fight? Which one would win in a prison fight? Maybe it's all of those things. That would be great, actually, because it might help me make up my mind. I mean, unicorns are awesome and they go great with rainbows and glitter, at least on Lisa Frank notebooks. But if you look at some of the old legends about unicorns, they're not always friendly, benevolent creatures. They're kind of shady and mysterious. At least you know where you stand with zombies. And as for who would win in a fight? I don't think we'll know until we see it.

...to use:

Sephora Gift Card
Have you ever been to Sephora? I know it's been around for quite awhile but I've just discovered it. It's like a Wonderland of Makeup! It's quite intimidating when you first walk in, but after you pass the displays for Dior and Givenchy and get into the more affordable brands, it's pretty fun. You can give yourself a makeover or have a professional give you one. They have everything you could ever need in your makeup bag. And, their gift cards come in these cute little mirror compacts.

Old Navy Sweater-Knit boot slippers
These come in lots of cute patterns and colors, but my favorites are these Cat in the Hat/candy cane/elf stocking-inspired red-and-white stripes. You just tuck your jammie pants into the tops for warm and cozy feet all the way down! They make me want to curl up with some cocoa and watch A Christmas Story...

Amazon Kindle 2 skins from DecalGirl.com
Decal Girl makes great protective skins for any device you can think of. I had one on my old iPod, I have one on my laptop and one on my Kindle right now that's getting pretty scratched up. But the cool thing is you can peel them off and put another one on. I like the designs "Spring Flower," "Quest," "Library," "Crest" (pictured), and "Orange Flowers."

Here are some more ideas--

Books:

Nonfiction

An Education (Barber)
Things That Make Us [Sic] (Brockenbrough)
The Age of Wonder (Holmes)
Where Men Win Glory (Krakauer)
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks (Skloot)
The Elements of Style (Strunk & White; any edition)
Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M. (Wasson)
A Room of One's Own (Woolf; any edition)

Fiction

Alice I Have Been (Benjamin)
Ragtime (Doctorow)
Shades of Grey (Fforde)
My Brilliant Career (Franklin)
The Summer We Read Gatsby (Ganek)
A Total Waste of Makeup (Gruenenfelder)
Never Let Me Go (Ishiguro)
The Pursuit of Love & Love in a Cold Climate: Two Novels (Mitford)
Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (Watson)

DVDs:

30 Rock Seasons 3 & 4
Beauty & the Beast
Dollhouse: The Complete Second Season
Gattaca
Glee: The Complete First Season
In Bruges
Into the Wild
The IT Crowd: Seasons 1, 2 & 3
The Proposal
Sherlock Holmes (2009)
State of Play
The Sound of Music
The Twilight Saga: Eclipse
Where the Wild Things Are
Zombieland

Apparel:

Knit hats
Scarves
Gloves

Gift Cards/Certificates:

Amazon.com
Barnes & Noble
Borders
Old Navy
Kohl's
The Body Shop
Kelly Latte's

Charity:

I would also appreciate donations made in my name to the Somaly Mam Foundation, a nonprofit public charity committed to ending modern day slavery around the world. The foundation supports rescue, shelter and rehabilitation programs across Southeast Asia, where sex trafficking of women and girls, some as young as five, is a widespread practice. www.somaly.org/donate

We all like stuff. Stuff is fun. And I really do think there is some value and significance in the stuff that we choose to give each other, not in the things themselves, but in the thought and care behind the choosing of those things. I always hope that things I give to people will show how much I care. And of course, we can never forget the real reason that we give each other Christmas gifts in the first place: the Gift of Christ.

Upon Re-reading "Twilight"

2010-10-31T12:39:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, I wrote this. If you don't want to follow the link, don't worry. I'll explain--no, wait, there's too much--I'll sum up. The link was to a previous post on this blog in which I expressed my thoughts on first reading Twilight, including a fun anecdote in which the moment I read the last word on the last page, I immediately sprang up, grabbed my car keys, and booked it to the nearest store to buy a copy of New Moon, the sequel to Twilight. In the post I also express a half-awareness of the book's "guilty pleasure" status, yet I remain shameless (mostly).

And now, two years later, I've had time to read the book a couple more times, to see the movie (could have been better, could have been worse), and to distance myself for awhile from the entire phenomenon (as long as I wasn't within 50 feet of a preteen girl, or the mother of a preteen girl). And I would have to say that my opinion of the novel has not altered fundamentally, though time has given it cultivation and nuance.

You know how there are some books that could be page-turners because they're such great stories, but you don't want to read them that fast? They're so good that you just want to take your time, to soak in the prose and study every detail of the characters. For me, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is such a novel (so far), but Twilight was not.

Stephenie Meyer has stated on several occasions something to the effect of, she does not consider herself a writer, but a storyteller. I wholeheartedly agree with her. Keeping in mind that Twilight was her first novel (and I would imagine speedily written, having rather famously appeared to her in a dream a la Mary Shelley's Frankenstein), her prose and her characterization do leave something to be desired. But where she is not lacking is in her ability to tell a compelling story--just try to not stay up far later than your intended bed time while reading this book--and to set a mood.

Twilight is probably one of the moodiest books I've ever read. I was entirely captivated by the setting, a gloomy, romantic, fairy-tale-enchanted-forest kind of setting. Every tree in the town of Forks is dripping with angst and mystery. (Forks is a real town, by the way, to which I've been, both before and after it became a mecca for Twilight fans--I live about four hours away by car. The real Forks isn't nearly as interesting as the fictional one.)

Meyer could not have picked a better location to set her tale, though. Forks is right in the middle of Washington state's Olympic National Forest, one of the only remaining old-growth forests in North America. It's the kind of forest where you would expect to find a cottage full of dwarves, or maybe a vampire.

There was an article in the March 2010 issue of Discover Magazine that was actually about Dutch scientist Frans Vera's concept called "rewilding," but there was a lot about old-growth forests in it: "Today thick, dense forests are considered synonymous with unspoiled nature," but old-growth is "a human artifact: an unnatural, unbalanced outcome created when people...corralled wild horses and cattle. Without free-roaming herds of grazing animals to hold them back, closed-canopy forests took over the land wherever humans did not intervene."

It's an intriguing concept, though one that takes away a little of the romance of all those Grimm tales, and maybe some of the enchanting mystery of Twilight. In the Grimms' tales and in Meyer's tale, the woods are dangerous, haunted by wolves or witches or other unknown terrors. But, if Vera's theory is to be believed, the dark and dangerous woods were created by human activity; we gave the monsters a place to hide.

What a poignant metaphor that is! Twilight doesn't spend a lot of time delving into any kind of psychological exploration, and it barely scratches the surface of the primordial roots of vampire tales throughout human history, but who wants that kind of boring stuff in a fantasy novel?

And Twilight is that: pure fantasy. It's the kind of novel that's a lot of fun if you don't think about it very much, and maybe even more fun if you do.

Disparity

2010-10-25T12:17:00.000-07:00

I once heard the author Mary Clearman Blew say something to the effect of, most people don't have the humility to write about their childhoods until they are at least middle-aged. I don't know that it requires humility, though. Blew's point was, I think, that until someone has lived a certain amount of time, she does not have the wisdom or clarity of sight to look at the experience of childhood, with all its joys and desperate heartbreaks so uneventful to the grown-up mind, as honest narrative, rather than the confusion of half-true facts and guarded memories we see in young adulthood. In other words, it takes time to take our childhoods seriously.

There is too slight a disparity between ten and twenty for a young adult to completely detach herself from the wildness, adventure, and wonder of being a child, and the danger that is no less real for being imaginary. And there is too great a disparity for her believe in that world still.

My childhood is full of stories. My earliest adventures were with the likes of Madeleine and little girls in lines, the Poky Little Puppy and Ferdinand the bull. I explored a split-level tree with the Berenstein Bears, and I sailed through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year with Max and the Wild Things, time and again. A few years later I made fast friends with Laura Ingalls and Sara Crewe and Anne Shirley. And I discovered Narnia rather by accident, just as Lucy did. These were the stories that mattered to me. These are the memories that are most vivid in my mind's eye.

I've lived my life through books. When I was child, the imaginary worlds of orphans and talking animals (for an orphan was to me as strange and mystical a creature as a talking animal), of gloom and brightness and magic, were far more exciting, and far more bearable, than the real world.

In the real world there was school, which had by turns its delights and its atrocities. There were trips to the lake, to the park, to the library, to any other number of interesting places. There were slumber parties and marathon games of make-believe (that wasn't what we called it, but that's what it was). But most of all, in the real world there was the seemingly endless drudgery of living. I was a child for a hundred years.

I couldn't wait to grow up.

When I imagined myself grown up, I pictured an impossibly beautiful and sophisticated woman. At five, I didn't know the word "sophisticated," but that didn't stop me from idolizing the concept. And, inevitably, I suppose, the adult me of my mind's eye often resembled some variation of a Disney princess, a heroine from a book, or a Hollywood actress.

(To be continued...)

New Job, Old House

2010-10-05T16:47:00.000-07:00

So as much of my innermost circle of readership knows, I received and accepted a job offer today. I'll be hanging out at the Kent Historical Museum, doing a little bit of several things. Needless to say, I am beyond excited. I mean, I finally have a reason besides caffeine withdrawal to leave the house every day! And I'll be able to put my blogging skills to more prestigious use, it seems.

I am so thankful, and God is so faithful. I was on the brink of giving up on finding a job that I could really get excited about, and that I could even use my degree in. But here it is, my first real, permanent job right out of college and it's doing something really cool. This is definitely a blessing!

Creepy was Will's Forte

2010-10-04T12:03:00.000-07:00

Two weeks into the 36^th season of Saturday Night Live, I'm sure many viewers are wondering, “Where's Forte?” At least, if you don't follow entertainment news very closely and you actually noticed that Will Forte's cache of creeper/weirdo characters were absent from those two episodes. He left the show after eight seasons to “pursue new opportunities,” according to a representative for Forte, as quoted in The New York Times about a month ago.

By opportunities, does he mean a MacGruber sequel, by chance? I hope not. There are only so many SNL sketches-turned-movies that the wonderful world of film can contain, and I think we reached the limit right after Wayne's World 2, or maybe somewhere in the middle of it.

But, if Forte is looking to reprise one of his former roles for the big screen, here's a look back at some of his best/creepiest SNL characters, any of which would be just as suitable as MacGruber for a movie franchise:

The Falconer Businessman Ken Mortimer left his career and his home to live in the wilderness with his best friend Donald the falcon, and so became... The Falconer! The most cringe-worthy edition was the Jason Lee episode's Indecent Proposal parody. Yes, Earl Hickey making out with a bird puppet. I had nightmares for weeks.

Tim Calhoun The awkward, camera-shy politician with little to no public speaking ability ran for president in 2008 as the Write-in Party candidate. He appeared on Weekend Update to talk about his stance on issues like the economy—“Put a bag over its face, shotgun a few beers, and then just get it over with”—and the oil crisis—“Drill, baby, drill? Not on my teeth! I hate baby dentists.”

Jon Bovi They are NOT a Bon Jovi cover band! Jon Bovi is the world's first Bon Jovi opposite band. All of their songs are exact opposites of Bon Jovi songs, like “Not Wanted, Alive and Dead,” “Dyin' on a Prayer” and “(Your Hatred is Like) Good Medicine.” For some reason, probably the economy, Jon Bovi hasn't yet been able to sign a gig.

Mr. Dillon (From the “Gilly” sketches) The “Gilly” sketches, starring Kristen Wiig as a school-aged, afro-ed troublemaker, seem like something from Mad TV. They're extremely weird, not actually funny unless you're really sleepy (or high), and yet you can't stop watching them. Forte played the creepy (of course) mustachioed teacher who failed to discipline Gilly for her destructive and violent behavior. Wow, this sounds more like a TV M-rated drama on HBO than a comedy sketch...

I, for one, would gladly pay full price to see a 90 minute version of one of these sketches. Of course, Entertainment Weekly reported back in June that Forte will guest-star on Amy Poehler's sitcom Parks and Recreation this upcoming season, starting in January. But there's still time for a full-length Tim Calhoun feature. Calhoun 2012!

What Second Novel Slump?

2010-09-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

Lost in a Good Book
By Jasper Fforde, 2002
Preceded by The Eyre Affair

Something Blue
By Emily Giffin, 2005
Preceded by Something Borrowed

Speaker for the Dead
By Orson Scott Card, 1986
Preceded by Ender's Game

The Likeness
By Tana French, 2008
Preceded by In the Woods

Pride and Prejudice
By Jane Austen, 1813
Preceded by Sense and Sensibility

Hey, I just realized that all of these are at least semi-sequels except for P&P. Interesting...

A Little Cross-Promotion Never Hurt Anyone

2010-09-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

Exciting news: I started another blog!

Yes, it seems the supply is greater than the demand, but I don't care. I have been noticing how many of my posts on Watts Up With Rhonda are in some way related to Jane Austen, so I decided to start a separate blog for my Jane Austen stuff and keep this one for everything else. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to dig through all my posts here and transfer the Austen ones over to the new blog, or just start fresh.

Anyway, you should check it out. It's called Austentatious, and there's only one post right now, but plenty more material for discussion!

So Prejudiced it Becomes Prideful

2010-08-25T22:57:00.000-07:00

A review of "First Impressions: A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice" by Alexa Adams

While I found this book entirely readable, let me just say right off the bat that the Kindle edition at least has major punctuation issues and even some spelling errors. At one point "Darcy" was spelled with an e between the c and the y! Are the shades of Pemberley to be so polluted? (Sorry, I couldn't resist!) I also found myself exclaiming out loud, a la Mrs. Elton, "There is a shocking lack of commas in this narrative!" It seriously drove me nuts.

Anyway, issues of grammar aside, as I said, the story is very readable. It also explores a question that I'm sure a lot of P&P lovers have asked themselves: What if Mr. Darcy had manned up and danced with Elizabeth when they first met at Meryton, instead of waiting until the Netherfield ball, when her prejudice had already been solidified by the evil manipulations of Mr. Wickham? Everyone's been wondering that, right?

Well, I actually have before. There are a lot of things in P&P that leave room for what ifs. Like, what if Bingley had gone against Darcy's initial advice and proposed to Jane anyway? Or what if Elizabeth and Lydia and Kitty and I can't remember exactly who else was there had not met Mr. Wickham in town that day? What if, when Lizzy and the Gardiners were in Lambton, Jane's letter had arrived a day later?

I love the idea of changing the course of an entire story by just adding or changing one element. I thought this was done rather well in "Lost in Austen", which had a modern 20-something woman change places with Elizabeth Bennet. This threw off the entire plot, and the main character's attempts to "fix" it only made things worse. In this case, the changed element made the story more complicated, added more conflict, thus making it more interesting.

But the opposite is true for "First Impressions." Its subtitle really tells it all: "A Tale of Less Pride and Prejudice." But, you see, the pride and the prejudice are what make it "Pride and Prejudice." The Mr. Darcy in this version of the story does indeed have less pride. There is much less conflict, none at all, in fact, between Darcy and Elizabeth because they communicate perfectly with each other from the beginning. (I mean, what kind of person says exactly what they mean? What kind of game is that?) It's all very pleasant, but in fiction pleasant is boring.

I was pleased enough with the pleasantness to finish the book, because I love the characters, and for the most part, the author stays true to them. But I doubt I'll give it a second read. From now on I prefer to keep my what if speculations off the page (or Kindle screen). Except for, what if Caroline Bingley is a Terminator, a cyborg sent back in time to terminate Elizabeth Bennet, the future leader in the defense against zombie uprising...

The CIA is Still a Runway

2010-08-20T16:25:00.000-07:00

“Covert Affairs” has never had pretensions of greatness. This rather frothy CIA drama from a girl's POV is usually good for a few laughs and some spy-lite fun. This week's episode, though, was a bit of a snooze. A side story line features CIA newbie Annie's suspicions of her brother-in-law's infidelity. This whole element of the show, with the sister and the nieces, doesn't really work for me, especially the nieces. It's like they're not even real kids.

Now that that's out of the way, I think there has to be a great drinking game somewhere in this show. Like, every time Annie is shocked when she learns a secret about her new mission? Shot! Or whenever she uses her exceptional language skills to befriend a foreign blue collar worker? Shot! Or how about every time Auggie uses his blindness to charm a woman? Shot! (Remember Jamie Foxx in “Ray”? Christopher Gorham does!)

Yes, the show is a bit rife with cliché, but it usually does a better job of hiding it than this episode did. This week Annie again went undercover as an employee of the Smithsonian, this time to gain access to a senator's office that's been leaking state secrets. To get in good with the senator's (young, female) chief of staff, Annie compliments her sweater and takes her out for margaritas and some girl talk. Turns out the way to a woman's trust is through her wardrobe. And margaritas.

It's becoming more and more clear to me that this is a chick show. Not just a show for a female audience, but a chick show. Comparisons to “Alias” are inevitable, I suppose, and the similarities are deeper than one might think. Yes, women loved “Alias” partly because it didn't talk down to them; it didn't water down the action with lots of extra heartwarming drama. Plus there were all those crazy clothes and fun wigs. The most exciting wardrobe choice Annie ever makes is her Leboutins. Fabulous, but predictable.

But both “Affairs” and “Alias” happen to feature complex women. There is a strange combination of strength and naivete, intelligence and vulnerability in the female characters, just like real women, I suppose. Is “Covert Affairs” a feminist manifesto? Gertrude Stein certainly wouldn't think so. But what woman doesn't love Leboutins?

Hang the Jury

2010-08-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

I had jury duty last week.

(I think I need something right in here.)

In a trial by jury, the jury is a representation of the general public. The prosecution must prove to the representatives of the population served by the court beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty. That is the burden of truth. It's the closest we can get to democracy without polling an entire city, county or state for every court case.

In theory, the sovereignty of the government, and, by extension, the court, lies in the power of the people. By placing the burden of the discernment of truth on the sovereignty of the people, our judicial system attempts to imitate Divine justice, but our understanding of justice is flawed. This is a fatal flaw for those whom the law fails to judge justly.

I've heard it said that the law does not exist for the just, but for the unjust; the just carry the law in their hearts and do not need to call it from afar. "And we also know that the law is not for the righteous but for lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful" (1st Timothy 1:9). But in this impure world, no one is purely just; no one is righteous apart from the Law. The Law, therefore, is for us all.

Rhonda in the City

2010-07-21T19:47:00.000-07:00

There is a time-honored tradition, articulated through such vessels as Mary Tyler Moore, "Working Girl," and "The Devil Wears Prada," that young, single women who long for adventure, and perhaps a more glamorous life than their hometowns can give them, will set their sights on the big city. Restless college graduates from the suburbs or ambitious farm girls or women from low-income areas stuck in dead-end jobs will put on their new stylish, elegant, "professional" clothes, pack their new briefcases or handbags, and get downtown any way they can for that first, real-life, grown-up job. The possibilities seem endless, and the limitless sky is full of promise.

I have now joined the ranks of these girls. I've got a job in the big city. It may not be my dream job, and it may only be temporary, but in my continuing search for someone who will pay me to write, the adventure is worth it. The other day, I even wore a beret to work just so that I could stand in the middle of 2nd Avenue and throw my hat in the air. But, a seagull swooped in and grabbed it before it could fall back down. I really liked that hat... I'm thinking next I might try wearing running shoes until I get up to the office and then changing into high heels, except that I'm not sure it would have quite the desired effect, since the office I work in is so casual that running shoes would go without notice (hey, it's the Pacific Northwest).

To document my experience, I decided to create a photo journal, a step-by-step guide to my new glamorous (ha!) life. We begin, as always, at the beginning...

An artful rendering of the bus stop in my neighborhood, where I catch a ride on the snazziest Metro bus this side of the Mississippi.

My bus fare, two shiny dollar coins, featuring the visage of former U.S. President Franklin Pierce.

My current bus book, rather appropriately, "The Best of Everything" by Rona Jaffe. First printed in 1958, this novel follows the lives of four young women who move to New York City in search of work, love and adventure...

The view from 3rd Avenue
Look at the big buildings!

Seattle's Best Coffee on 2nd and Cherry
Half a block from where the bus drops me off and across the street from my office building. I buy coffee here every morning, then sit and read for a few minutes until it's time to go to work.

A grande white chocolate Americano
I order it with room and then add nonfat milk. So much cheaper than a mocha, but it tastes almost the same!

Worm's-eye view of the Dexter Horton Building from 3rd and Cherry
Built in 1922 and named after one of Seattle's first tycoons, this historic building is home to the office where I work!

The front entrance of the Dexter Horton Building, 710 2nd Avenue
Fancy, huh?

Elevator up! This one goes to 11!
(Seriously, the office is on the 11th floor.)

View from the top
The world looks different from 11 stories up.

All these things are great, but I think the best part about working in the city is the people I've met. Like my bus driver, Patti. Or the ladies who work at SBC who, for some reason, think my name is Monica. (I don't know why I haven't bothered to correct them. Does it really matter?) Or the homeless man who likes to hit garbage cans and newspaper dispensers with a giant stick. The city is a magical place, dear reader, a magical, magical place...

"Covert Affairs": Full of Surprises

2010-07-14T23:20:00.000-07:00

It's not a new premise, really, a brand new CIA field agent at the start of his or her career. I watched the pilot episode of "Covert Affairs" with a bit of reservation, but even though the idea isn't groundbreaking, I was pleasantly surprised by this spy action-drama that seems to be aimed a bit more at a female audience than previous incarnations of the genre.

The surprise started with the appearance of Christopher Gorham ("Ugly Betty," "Popular" and the incomparable "Jake 2.0," which was really kind of a "Chuck" 1.0) as blind CIA analyst Auggie Anderson. One of his opening lines hits the nail on the head: "A blind guy showing you around the CIA..."

Then another thick eyebrow-ed actor (Peter Gallagher; actually, he and Gorham look a bit alike. I wonder what that could mean for future developments...) appeared as Arthur Campbell, some kind of CIA supervisor whose wife Joan (Kari Matchett) has a similarly vague but important job.

Actually, Joan probably had the best line in the whole episode. When Piper Perabo's CIA newbie Annie Walker is preparing to go undercover as a call girl (why is it that whenever a woman in a movie or TV show has to be in disguise it's always as a hooker or a stripper or some other female-objectifying archetype?), she asks, "Do I need a costume or something?" and Joan deadpans, "Hookers in D.C. are pretty conservative. What you're wearing now is fine."

The rest of the surprises can best be expressed in the following manner:

1. Ooh! Leboutins!
Annie wears the iconic red-soled shoes, a pair of sleek and simple black pumps, for her undercover assignment, a transfer of information with a Russian contact. The contact is shot and killed by a sniper, and Annie loses her shoes in a mad-dash escape from the sniper fire. Don't worry, she gets them back, meeting a cute FBI agent in the process.

2. Ooh! Sexual Tension!
With the cute FBI agent, and maybe with the blind analyst? It's hard to tell at this point. Gorham is not what I would call "leading man handsome," but he has a certain appeal, and his character and Annie seem to get along famously. Of course, that could put them in the friend zone. After all, there are plenty of TV male-female duos that always stayed completely platonic: Mulder and Scully, Tony and Angela, Dr. Quinn and Sully...

3. Ooh! Witty Banter!
While bonding over a beer after a hard day of spyin', Annie tells Auggie her story in a self-reflective, insightful sound byte of a personal history. He then tells her that she fits the "profile" of the typical CIA recruit, in a very charming and witty way, of course.

4. Ooh! Car Chase!
'Nuff said.

5. Ooh! A Wise and Perceptive Older African American Character!
Annie goes to one of her former language professors at Georgetown for help with her case, but she can't tell him what she's really doing, of course. It turns out that something the "Russian" contact said to her during their brief meeting wasn't really in Russian; he was speaking Estonian. Hm, suspicious... So, of course the rookie agent knows more than her supervisor; I wouldn't expect any different. So, Annie has to strike out on her own with only the help of her trusty sidekick and her MacGyver-like wits to prove her theory.

6. Ooh! Intrigue!
And then, of course, it turns out that the cute Spanish guy she met at the very beginning is the real Russian agent (never waste a meet cute!) and he tries to kill her. She is saved, though, in the nick of time by her long-lost lover whom she met in Sri Lanka, though she can't be sure it was him because it happened so fast and then he disappeared again.

Back at the CIA, the all-knowing Joan and Arthur privately discuss young Annie's progress and potential, revealing that they have been watching her for far longer than we thought. And then, in a total "Say Anything" moment, except without the boom box, we see Annie's long-lost love sitting in his car and gazing longingly at her bedroom window. ("It IS him! It IS!")

All in all, a solid start. There were enough twists to keep me guessing and laughs to keep it light, but not frothy. Of course, my knowledge of "Alias" has me wondering if Annie is really working for the CIA, or if it's actually some shady assassins' operation. As long as there are no dead fiances in bathtubs of blood, I'm good.

Emmy Love for Conan

2010-07-08T22:30:00.000-07:00

The ill-fated “Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien” received two Primetime Emmy nominations, for Outstanding Variety, Music or Comedy series and Outstanding Writing for a Variety, Music or Comedy series, as announced Thursday by the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.

Conan's run as host of the iconic “Tonight Show” lasted only seven months (before the time slot was reclaimed by former host Jay Leno), but it was enough to get the academy's attention.

The nominations also caused a bit of controversy, some questioning if they were only sympathy noms, or a statement of protest directed toward NBC. Many Hollywood insiders seem to think that the Emmys are taking sides in a Leno/O'Brien debate, the most heated rivalry I've seen since Team Edward/Team Jacob.

An exec from a rival network was quoted in The Hollywood Reporter as saying that the nomination “seems like a political statement rather than a vote about the quality of the program itself... I don't think even Conan would say that the show yet represented what he wanted it to be in terms of an Emmy-winning performance."

As a long-time fan of “Late Night with Conan O'Brien,” I was excited when O'Brien took over for Jay Leno, whose bland, run-of-the-mill humor never failed to put me to sleep. Sure, Conan's “Tonight Show” had a rocky start, but what new show doesn't? A couple more months and I'm sure the show would have found its stride.

Meanwhile, Leno's ill-conceived nightly primetime talk show was bombing (What? Early risers don't want to watch this guy for an hour before they go to sleep every night? Who would have thought?), but NBC wanted to keep him, for some reason. So I was grimly unsurprised when the network announced last winter that Leno would return to his old time slot, leaving Conan out in the cold.

So what if Conan's Emmy nominations are just the academy's way of sticking it to NBC? In my opinion, they deserve it. And while I'm watching the Emmys this year, and waiting for the premiere of Conan's new show on TBS in the fall, I'll be wearing my Team Conan t-shirt.

Love, Money and "Say Yes to the Dress"

2010-07-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

Who can explain the appeal of watching spoiled, rich women try on gowns that cost more than my car, and complain about the height of the waist or the angle of the neckline, demanding that they be altered fractions of an inch? Or, even worse, bridezillas with mothers to match going into the red for dresses they clearly can't afford and will only wear once in their lives? I am at a loss.

Is it the human train wreck of emotion, fashion, over indulgence, and all the feminine wistfulness that comes with anything related to weddings that hooks me? Is it watching the bridal consultants' mysterious talent for finding each bride's proverbial perfect wedding dress? Or seeing the manager, Randy, with his pink silk ties and childishly mild voice, swoop in to save the day when that talent fails?

Maybe the appeal goes deeper than voyeurism and superficial drama. During one episode I actually teared up a bit when the salon gave a huge discount to a breast cancer survivor on her dream dress. And I never get tired of seeing a mom's reaction to the sight of her daughter in a wedding gown for the first time.

I've heard it said that girls and women fantasize about weddings because they are one of the few socio-cultural events that center on the individual female experience; a wedding, and especially the kind of weddings that women on “Say Yes to the Dress” have, allows a woman a socially accepted excuse to indulge every narcissistic whim that enters her head.

I don't know if this is true or not, but it seems a logical, if rather cynical, explanation for this cultural phenomenon of wedding obsession. With divorce rates skyrocketing faster than the cost of the average wedding, my practical side has to balk at the thought of breaking the bank on such a short-lived investment. It seems that people obsess over their weddings, but neglect their marriages.

But all of these real world reservations are pushed aside when watching “Say Yes to the Dress.” I am cordially resigned to the fact that when I plan my own wedding, I will be hitting the $99 dress sales and buying off the rack, but that doesn't mean a girl can't dream.

Thoughts From the Coffee Shop

2010-04-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

What is it about studying in a location other than your disheveled, paper-strewn bed that is so exciting?

As I type this, I have been sitting in a D&M coffee shop in downtown Ellensburg for over five hours. I wrote a poem and revised two papers for my senior portfolio. I played a game of chess. I updated my Facebook status, and checked it twice more to see if anyone had commented on my witty musing yet. (No one has.)

I've had a lot of food for thought today. I found out that I might have a mild case of synesthesia. It's a condition which causes people's brains to combine or associate two different senses, such as sound and sight. A lot of people with synesthesia hear a certain musical note or chord and it makes them visualize a color. For me, it's taste and, to some extent, smell that I associate with color. I also found that my habit of thinking of the calendar year and the number line as inhabiting space is actually related to that. The poem I wrote today is about synesthesia.

I also drank coffee.

Less than two months from now, I will finish college. I will put on an ugly maroon polyester gown that is not very flattering for my body type and a matching cap with a tassel and walk across a stage to receive my diploma. (I hope I don't trip.) Then the rest of my life will start. How's that for a deep coffee shop thought?

Key chains are weird. They're not chains.

Akun Bracelet

2010-03-10T17:19:00.000-08:00

Note: this piece was originally written for my editing and publication class; the assignment was to write a short piece (no longer than 750 words), either an editorial or a review. I chose an editorial, and I'm sure all my readers will be glad to know I got an "A."

I often wear a bright green woven bracelet with purple beads on my left wrist. People who notice it usually ask if I made it, to which I answer, “No, a girl in Cambodia did.” I then explain that no, my bracelet was not made in a sweat shop. I don't know the identity of the girl who made my bracelet, but I do know that, whoever she is, she is a survivor of sexual slavery.

The girl who made my bracelet was, like millions of young women and children in Southeast Asia, kidnapped or sold into prostitution at a young age, perhaps as young as five. Unlike most of the victims of this modern slavery, though, the girl who made my bracelet was rescued from captivity and brought somewhere safe to recover and heal, thanks to the Somaly Mam Foundation.

This nonprofit organization was founded by Cambodian sexual slavery survivor Somaly Mam and American Air Force Academy graduates Jared Greenberg and Nicholas Lumpp in 2007. Since its inception, the foundation has raised awareness of this horrific issue all over the globe and rescued thousands of Cambodian girls and young women from sexual slavery, setting them on a path toward recovery and reintegration.

Somaly Mam is one of the few voices speaking out against this unspeakable practice. Her own story is heartbreakingly tragic, but she has risen above her tragedy and dedicated her life to saving victims and empowering survivors. Through donations and proceeds from the sale of items that the rescued girls make (like my bracelet), the foundation is providing them shelter, food and education, opportunities and hope for the future they would not have had otherwise. But the struggle is far from over.

According to the United Nations, over 2 million children around the world are either kidnapped or sold to the sex trafficking industry every year. This industry generates $12 billion a year globally and is protected by corrupt government and law enforcement officials.

It is unacceptable that five-year-old girls are being sold by their families and raped and beaten by their captors every day. It is unacceptable that the governments of Southeast Asia are allowing this to happen. It is unacceptable for anyone who knows of these atrocities to turn a blind eye, to ignore the tragedy, to do nothing.

In Cambodia, one girl in 20 will be sold into sexual slavery by the age of twelve. She will be captured and beaten and tortured and raped and demeaned and likely killed, her innocence, her freedom and her life all taken away; and she is powerless to stop it.

But we are not powerless. We can make a difference in the lives of these girls and young women whom life has treated so harshly. A donation of only $10 provides psychological counseling for one victim of sex trafficking, and $30 will provide shelter and security for one girl for a month. Visit www.somaly.org to learn more about the Somaly Mam Foundation and contribute to this important cause.

I often think about the girl who made my bracelet. I wonder: what is her story? Would I cry if I heard it? (Probably.) What is her life like now? Will she ever be able to recover from the terrible things that have happened to her? Will she be safe and happy and loved? And I wonder if I will ever get to meet her; what would I say if I did? Somehow, “Thanks for the bracelet” doesn't seem like enough.

Good Lententide

2010-02-23T22:00:00.000-08:00

The custom of Lent is at least as old as the Byzantine Empire, and possibly was in practice even before then. And of course, fasting and prayer have been around since before Christ was on Earth.

There is a hymn sung in Catholic masses that I love:

Glória in excélsis Deo

et in terra pax homínibus bonae voluntátis.

Laudámus te,

benedícimus te,

adorámus te,

glorificámus te,

grátias ágimus tibi propter magnam glóriam tuam,

Dómine Deus, Rex cæléstis,

Deus Pater omnípotens.

Dómine Fili Unigénite, Iesu Christe,

Dómine Deus, Agnus Dei, Fílius Patris,

qui tollis peccáta mundi, miserére nobis;

qui tollis peccáta mundi, súscipe deprecatiónem nostram.

Qui sedes ad déxteram Patris, miserére nobis.

Quóniam tu solus Sanctus, tu solus Dóminus, tu solus Altíssimus,

Iesu Christe, cum Sancto Spíritu: in glória Dei Patris. Amen.

Here it is in English:

Glory be to God on high.

And in earth peace towards men of good will.

We praise thee.

We bless thee.

We worship thee.

We glorify thee.

We give thanks to thee for thy great glory.

O Lord God, heavenly King

God the Father almighty.

O Lord, the only-begotten Son Jesu Christ.

O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father.

Thou that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.

Thou that takest away the sins of the world, receive our prayer.

Thou that sittest at the right of the Father, have mercy upon us.

For thou only art Holy. Thou only art the Lord. Thou only art the Most High.

Thou only, O Jesu Christ, with the Holy Ghost, art Most High in the glory of God the Father. Amen

During Lent, Catholic congregations do not sing this hymn; it disappears on Ash Wednesday and isn't sung again until Easter Sunday, celebrating the resurrection of Christ.

Lent is commonly thought of as a time of sorrow and penance, of sacrifice for the purpose of reflection and purification; it sounds rather joyless. But reflection and purification should be joyful. Lent is also often thought to symbolize or commemorate Jesus' 40 days of fasting in the desert in preparation to begin His ministry on Earth, and our sacrifice is to honor His sacrifice on the cross.

There is sorrow for Jesus' suffering and repentance for our sin, but there is joy in the sacrifice. In this solemn season there is the anticipation of the celebration at the end. We are hopeful through the despair because we know how the story ends: though Christ was put to death, it could not hold Him; though we sacrifice coffee or sweets or TV (me) and have times of sorrow, we look forward to the end of the story, the joy that comes in the morning, the life and resurrection of Christ. And our sacrifice is no longer a burden.

Artsy

2010-01-29T11:33:00.000-08:00

For those of you who don't know, I'm taking an art class this quarter. I thought it would be fun to share some of my work so far. Now, I know I have a long way to go and I will probably never be a Van Gogh, but I like it. These are phone-tos, so sorry about the bad picture quality.

"Love"

This was part of a four-piece assignment on emotions. The other emotions were "boredom," "excitement" and "hate," but this one was my favorite. Construction paper.

"Symmetry"

This was part of a three-piece study of symmetry. This piece represents bi-lateral symmetry. Construction paper.

"Necklace"

This is also in the symmetry study, representing radial symmetry. Construction paper.

"Fleurs de Lis"

This assignment was to create a grid with a focal point. I like the pink and brown, but I think if I could do it over I would replace some of the brown with mint green so it would be Spumoni ice cream colors. Construction paper.

"Landscape"

It's too bad this photo is so blurry. There is actually a lot of detail in this piece. Two-dimensional images are arranged in a 3-D space to create a scale landscape effect. (My prof wrote on the gradesheet that she thought it was "whimsical," which is exactly what I was going for!) Photograph, print images, poster board, foam core board.

"Starry Night"

Hey, how did this get in here?

Major Award

2010-01-26T21:31:00.001-08:00

One of my four "official" followers (of which I am one--you do the math) gave me this lovely award. I had no idea my blog was so lovely. Thanks, Bookworm!

So the rules are that I am supposed to post this picture (right) and then award the same award (awarding an award, because what else would you do with it?) to my favorite blogs to read. So, I pick these ones:

Practical Princess
It started as a project for an online journalism class, but Erika, the Practical Princess herself, has turned this little blog into one of my favorite ways to spend five minutes. Full of money-saving tips, beautiful photographs and interesting fashion stories without being "fashion blog-y," Practical Princess hits the spot.

The Daily Nail
365 days, 365 nail designs. I don't know where this girl finds the time, but she paints her nails every day, and not just one color, either. They're actual designs, sometimes extremely intricate, sometimes beautiful, always interesting and amazing. My favorite was the bacon nails a couple months back. And catchy blog title, too, no?

ma vie à l'étranger
French for "my life abroad," this blog was posted by an American college student studying in France (duh). She's back in the states now (I know, because I've seen her on campus; we know each other), but her archives make some interesting reading.

Postcards From...
As of this second, the title of the blog is "Postcards from a Winter Wonderland," but it has been "Postcards from Morning," "Postcards from Spring," and a couple of others. The content of this one is similar to mine in that it doesn't have a real theme. It's thoughts and musings and likes of the moment, often including a video and a few pictures, and always fun.

My Seven Top 5 Favorite Movies of 2009 --finally finished!

2010-01-04T18:03:00.000-08:00

Due to recent controversy, I would like to point out that the title of this post refers to my FAVORITE movies of the year, the ones I liked best, not necessarily those with the most merit.

It was a pretty good year for movies. Yes, there were the requisite explosions- and- special- effects- attempting- to- distract- the- audience- from- the- horrible- dialogue- and- complete- lack- of- original- story gems (I'm looking at you, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and Avatar), but there were also some serious contenders for my ever-changing Top Favorite Movies of All Time list. The year's best, in my opinion (listed in order of release date):

State of Play
The moral of the story: newspapers good, blogging bad. Oops. This is a smart, well-written thriller about politics, journalism and the tempestuous relationship between the two. The cast is perfect (except for Ben Affleck; I think he stumbled onto the wrong movie set) and the compelling story never gets predictable or generic.

The Proposal
A conventional romantic comedy: Girl hates Boy and Boy hates Girl; Girl and Boy must pretend to be a couple for one reason or another (the reason doesn't really matter); through a series of crazy adventures and misunderstandings, Girl and Boy Actually Fall In Love; and, after a final, even bigger misunderstanding, everything is cleared up and Girl and Boy live Happily Ever After. There's a reason these plot points became conventions in the first place: they make a good story. Of course by now we've seen them so many times that they're tediously predictable. What The Proposal manages to do, though, is give us a familiar story, but with characters we actually care about and some of the wittiest dialogue this side of Juno, so that what could have been a conventional, run-of-the-mill rom-com feels fresh and irrepressibly light.

(500) Days of Summer
And now a very un-conventional romantic comedy, so much so that many people, including some critics and even the makers of the film, don't consider it to be one at all. As the narrator says, "It is a story of Boy meets Girl, but it is not a love story." We are told at the beginning how it will end, yet we can't help rooting for this couple (or non-couple) to have their own Happily Ever After. The ending is perfect in that way because even though we know it's coming, there's still a bit of a surprise, and it's not entirely unsatisfying.

District 9
I recently watched the DVD with director Neill Blomkamp's commentary, and he seemed very occupied with the movie's constant juxtaposition of the mundane and the fantastic. Until he pointed this out, I hadn't really thought about it, which just goes to show how seamlessly the elements fit together. Blomkamp also is very aware of the setting. A Johannesburg native, he says that there was never a question of locating the story anywhere else. The city becomes a character in its own right, sometimes even more interesting than the aliens. A hallmark of science fiction has always been inventiveness, and in this respect District 9 is the most sci-fi sci-fi movie I've ever seen. It turns the genre on its head, making us question not only the traditional human traits of all good drama, but also the conventions of imagination.

Zombieland
After Shaun of the Dead's seemingly untouchable brilliance, who would dare to make a zom-com? The creators of The Joe Schmo Show, of course! The comparison is inevitable, but really the only thing the two movies have in common is that they're comedies with zombies (or maybe it's more accurate to say that they're zombie movies with lots of funny bits). Different stories, different characters, different accents. Zombieland is just fun from start to finish. I think it's mentioned somewhere that the "zombie infection" came from Mad Cow Disease, but does that really matter? No one cares how the zombies got there, we just want to see them get killed! And zombie killings there are aplenty, along with the aforementioned funny bits and an unforgettable cameo from one of the best comedic actors of our time. I won't tell you who it is, and in fact maybe I've already said too much. I listened to Creative Screenwriting Magazine's Q&A with the writers and found that they originally planned to have the movie be the first two episodes of a TV series. Maybe they'll still make the series? I'd watch!

Where the Wild Things Are
I remember reading the book when I was five or six, and looking at Sendak's incredible illustrations at even younger. The book contains only seven sentences, so it's no small feat that the movie is feature-length. Max and the Wild Things are flesh-and-blood characters. Kids younger than about nine or 10 probably wouldn't appreciate the introspective, emotion-driven almost slowness of the story, though there are enough laughs to keep older kids entertained. And people of all ages would have to be made of stone to not be touched by the heartfelt ending, Max's longing for and return home. And the soundtrack is really good.

Sherlock Holmes
I tried to read The Hound of the Baskervilles a few years ago and only got past about page five (although I liked the Wishbone version). I'm sure Doyle's reputation is well-deserved, but I just could not get through it without falling asleep. This Holmes is anything but boring, though, what with rock 'em-sock 'em action, witty banter and a supernatural (or is it?) mystery to solve. I (clearly) can't tell you how accurate this portrayal of the famous sleuth is, but I can you tell you that it made for a good time at the movies.

*Honorable mentions:
Star Trek
The Hangover
The Twilight Saga: New Moon
A campy 1960s sci-fi TV classic, a series of vampire romance novels beloved by tween and teen girls and middle-aged women alike and countless anonymous, too-wild-not-to-be-true stories of lost weekends in Sin City all provided inspiration for the year's best "guilty pleasures," in one case very guilty.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-25T07:28:00.000-08:00

"But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart."

Wonder. Spontaneous, awestruck, speechless wonder. At You. At Your name. At your creation, Your power. Your great wisdom and knowledge. Your reckless love. This is the truest form of worship. To stand wordless before Your throne, for no words will ever be enough, and let my spirit express what my mouth and mind cannot.

To hold You in my arms, to see the power, the love and wonder of the Most High beaming from the face of a tiny baby, my baby?

Mary pondered in her heart because she couldn't speak. She had no words for the miracle that she held to her heart. She held close, clung to the physical presence of her Lord and God because she was overwhelmed by His light and His love. She worshipped through her wonder.

New Moon

2009-11-27T22:52:00.000-08:00

Wow, two posts in one day!

I just saw New Moon and I have to say that the entire time I kept thinking, "Wow, this is like a real movie!" I'm not sure what that means, exactly. It's not as if Twilight wasn't a real movie. Ha. I made a funny.

But seriously, I am very pleasantly surprised. New Moon was my least favorite of the Twilight books, mostly because it seemed s-o-o-o-o-o l-o-o-o-o-o-o-ng. The first time I read it I kept skipping ahead every few pages going, "Okay, can something happen now, please?" But in retrospect, I think that the book isn't really that much longer than it needed to be. I think we're supposed to get a sense of time just dragging on bleakly and seeing nothing in the future to look forward to, because that's how Bella feels for most of the story.

But I digress. The movie is an extremely faithful adaptation. There were only a couple of things that really felt condensed or were noticeably reordered. Sometimes an adaptation's insistence on adhering that closely to the source material can spell disaster for the movie. In this case, though, despite a slight lack of story in some parts, the world of the film was so convincing that it didn't matter, at least not to me. And I think the screenwriter must have taken some night classes or something.

So, yeah, I liked the movie. Suck it, Ebert!

To read my post on the Twilight books, click here .

Thankful

2009-11-27T11:42:00.000-08:00

The Puritan settlers in Plymouth colony ate a meal of vegetables, bread and strange wild birds to celebrate their survival of a cold New England winter and to thank God for their health and freedom. Legend has it that each Pilgrim had only seven kernels of corn to eat, but even that was a bountiful feast, and they gave thanks for it.

We tell little children that Thanksgiving is about being thankful for the things we have, but it is so much more than that. The Puritans faced displacement from their homes, stormy seas, cold and inhospitable lands, the loss of loved ones, and still they thanked God for their blessings, even when it seemed they had none.

Yes, we should be thankful for our homes and families, even the conveniences and comforts of modern day life, but let's not overlook our true blessings: life, health, freedom, and the love of our Savior.

Superheroes Anonymous

2009-11-24T17:52:00.000-08:00

--I wrote this as a one-act play for a creative writing class, but I always thought of it as an SNL sketch.

Characters:

FLOYD, Captain Valor

PAM, The White Raven

GREGORY, one half of The Incredi-Twins

CRAIGORY, the other half of The Incredi-Twins

FELICIA, Probability Girl

BASIL, Superheroes Anonymous group leader

Scene: The basement of a community center. A table with a pitcher of water and a stack of paper cups stands to one side. The characters sit in a semicircle on metal folding chairs. The superheroes wear civilian clothing and stick-on name tags. Basil wears a black turtleneck and skinny jeans and has a soul patch. He reads from a clipboard.

BASIL: Okay, people. First of all I'd like to welcome all of you to the first ever meeting of Superheroes Anonymous. Welcome. Welcome, welcome! A little about myself. My name is Basil and I, just like all of you, used to be a superhero. I know it can be hard to adjust to normal life after you hang up the tights, but that's why I'm here to help! So now why don't we go around the circle and introduce ourselves. [Standing] Hi. I'm Basil, and I'm a superhero. [Sits back down; turns to Craigory on his right] Now, how about you?

CRAIGORY: [Clearing his throat] Uh, okay... do I have to stand up?

BASIL: If you feel it in your heart.

CRAIGORY: Oh, um, no... no, I don't feel it in my heart. [Basil shrugs and smiles] Okay, well, hi. I'm Craigory and I'm a superhero.

BASIL: Hi, Gregory.

CRAIGORY: No, not Gregory. Craig-ory. [Points to Gregory] That's Gregory. [Gregory gives a small wave] See, our mom, she wanted to name us Greg and Craig, because they rhyme. But Greg is a nickname for Gregory, right? So she figured Craig must be a nickname for Craigory, so that's what she named me.

PAM: Oh, you're brothers!

GREGORY: [nodding] Twins.

FELICIA: [jumping up] Is it hot in here?

[Felicia walks quickly to the water table and pours herself a cup, gulps it down, then pours another, which she drinks while the others continue talking.]

BASIL: Ah, twins. Why don't you tell us your story, Craigory?

CRAIGORY: Well, being twins was part of our identity--

BASIL: Of course, you feel defined by your twin, you feel you can't be your own person... classic child psychology.

CRAIGORY: No, I mean it was part of our super identity. We're the Incredi-Twins.

[Felicia pours herself yet another cup of water and gulps it loudly, still holding the pitcher in her other hand.]

PAM: [To Felicia] You okay, sweetie?

[Felicia nods.]

BASIL: Go on, Craigory.

CRAIGORY: Okay, well... About ten years ago we discovered our powers... well, we thought they were powers. Now it's more like a curse. See, I can move stuff with my mind, and Gregory can--

BASIL: Let's let Gregory tell his own story.

CRAIGORY: Oh, okay... so, uh, you know, everything was great for a long time. We saved a few cities, defeated a few super villains... everyone loved us. But then, about two years ago or so, I started... I don't know... changing.

BASIL: Changing? How?

CRAIGORY: I wasn't just using my power for good anymore. See, I used to only use it to move really heavy stuff that I couldn't pick up myself. But now I was using it to pick up the TV remote... to make the fridge door open and a beer come out and into my hand... I got lazy.

BASIL: [sagely] Ah, yes. The most common superhero pitfall.

CRAIGORY: So, yeah... that's why I'm here.

BASIL: You're in the right place, Craigory. Let's all give him a hand, shall we?

[Everyone claps. Felicia throws her cup away and, still holding the pitcher, returns to her seat. She drinks from the pitcher as the conversation continues.]

BASIL: [Looking at Floyd] Now, you've been awfully quiet, sir. Would you like to go next?

FLOYD: [Already sitting tall, he straightens even more] Oh, all right. Hello, everyone. My name is Floyd, and I am [heroic voice] Captain Valor!

[Everyone looks at Floyd meaningfully. He notices their expressions and drops his bravado just a smidge.]

FLOYD: Sorry. Old habits, you know.

BASIL: That's okay. Hi, Floyd. Well, of course, we all know who you are, but why don't you tell us your story, anyway?

FLOYD: Very well. I was born on a cold winter's eve to a young Romanian woman with a--

BASIL: You don't need to tell your whole story. Why don't you start with when you discovered your abilities.

FLOYD: Oh. All right. I was a young man of nineteen. I fell from a fourth-story window, and, as I saw the ground rushing toward me I had enough time to think, “I wish I could fly,” and the next thing I knew I was. Flying, I mean. So, of course, I had to find out if I had other powers. I can run extremely fast and I am very, very strong. Plus, I'm not too shabby at Jenga, but I don't think that's because of my powers.

BASIL: Mmhmm.

FLOYD: So, anyway, My experience was much like Gregory and Craigory's. I fought crime, I prevented disasters, and, most of all, I rescued people. That's what I became addicted to.

BASIL: Rescuing people?

FLOYD: [nods] Yes. It got to the point where I was rescuing maybe forty, fifty people a day. Sometimes they didn't even need rescuing, but I couldn't stop.

BASIL: Wow. Thank you Floyd. Let's give him a hand, everyone.

[Everyone starts to clap, but they are interrupted by a loud SCREAM offstage. Floyd, Pam and Felicia all jump to their feet. Gregory and Craigory look alarmed. Basil looks panicked, but not because of the scream; it's because he's lost everyone's attention. He tries to call them back.]

BASIL: Now, everyone, don't worry about th--

FLOYD: Someone is in danger! We must help them!

BASIL: No! Sit down!

[Gregory and Craigory move closer together and talk in hushed whispers to each other. Floyd begins to pace quickly. There are more screams, then a cry for help.]

SCREAMER 1: [offstage] HELP!!! OH NO!! WHAT IS THAT?

SCREAMER 2: [offstage] It's a MONSTER!! Run!!!!!

[More screaming.]

FLOYD: [stops pacing] Okay, everyone, what are your powers? We need to figure out how to defeat this monster, whatever it is!

PAM: I am the White Raven! I can become invisible and I can manipulate electrical charges.

FLOYD: Can you propel them in bolts? [Pam nods; Floyd turns to Felicia.] And you?

FELICIA: I'm Probability Girl.

[Everyone stops and looks at Felicia blankly for a second.]

FLOYD: And that means...?

BASIL: Everyone, please, we need to calm down. We've been making some breakthroughs, but if you all go and use your powers now we'll lose all that progress!

[Everyone ignores Basil.]

FELICIA: It means I can calculate probability, odds, fate. Sometimes I can even change it.

CRAIGORY: [in awe] Cool.

FELICIA: [blushing and giggling] You really think so?

BASIL: [standing] People, please! Have you completely forgotten the reason you are here? You're supposed to STOP BEING SUPERHEROES!

[They finally turn their attention to Basil, gaping. Floyd stares at him hard, a spark of recognition.]

FLOYD: Hey, I know who you are. I'd know that shout anywhere. You're my arch nemesis, the

Crude Cretin!

BASIL: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just--

PAM: Hey, you're right. It is him. I thought he died in that meteor storm a few years back.

FLOYD: So did we all. But that must have been part of his diabolical plan.

BASIL: We really need to get back to--

FELICIA: Yes! He wanted us to think he was dead!

GREGORY: So no one would bother him while he made the next step in his plan to rid the world of superheroes forever and take control!

[Basil stares at everyone, wide-eyed, panic rising.]

CRAIGORY: Superheroes Anonymous was just a ploy, a way to get us to stop using our powers!

FLOYD: [a horrified gasp] To stop rescuing people!

BASIL: All right, fine. You caught me. I am the Crude Cretin. You have divined my evil plot. But you can never stop me! The monster that rages outside will soon destroy the entire city, leaving nothing but blood and dust! You will never be able to defeat me! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

FLOYD: You disgust me.

BASIL: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

FLOYD: Come on, everyone! White Raven, Probability Girl, Incredi-Twins! With our powers combined, we can rid the world of the Crude Cretin and his vile beast!

[The superheroes surround Basil, who shrinks down, collapsing on the floor.]

BASIL: Ahhhhh! Noooo! No! Nooo... [his head falls to the ground, then silence.]

FLOYD: Now, for the monster! Follow me!

[A battle cry as the superheroes rush offstage.]

THE END

Five Favorite Film Soundtracks

2009-10-19T17:34:00.000-07:00

Hey, it's my 50th post! Yay...
I was thinking of doing something really special for this post, like maybe a retrospective look at all my previous posts, with excerpts of everyone's favorite memories of Watts Up with Rhonda, or even a slide show of pictures of me writing the posts. They would all just be me sitting at a computer typing or, those times I was "taking a break" from writing, browsing on Amazon, updating my Facebook status, or getting really angry at iTunes. It would be really fun, but I think I'll save that for my 100th post.

For this one I decided to name my five favorite movie soundtrack albums. There is quite a heated debate on Amazon discussion boards (and elsewhere, I'm sure) about the distinction between orchestral/score soundtracks and pop or compilation soundtracks, and whether or not they should be considered separate genres for retail purposes. Maybe they are separate genres, but for this list I decided to include both score soundtracks composed specifically for a film and song compilations. The bottom line is that both types of soundtracks are important elements in a film; they help set the mood and tone, and neither should be ignored. My favorites, in no particular order, are:

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)
I still haven't seen the movie, but I love the music. Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Karen O composed these folk-alternative- rock songs for the movie, making this soundtrack both score and song collection. The sound is homemade, exuberant and, fittingly, wild. With acoustic guitar and an eclectic collection of other instruments, humming, shouts and a choir of kids, the music celebrates the joy and wildness of childhood and makes a perfect companion for Sendak's book.

Pride and Prejudice (2005)
Before this film came out, I was a little nervous. As an avid Austen fan, I worried that the movie would get everything wrong. Just one of the things it got incredibly right, however, was the music. The use of piano for much of Dario Marianelli's score was inspired by the fact that Elizabeth Bennet plays the piano, though not nearly as well as Jean-Yves Thibaudet. His talent is put to especially good use for "Liz On Top of the World," a theme that is echoed very effectively in "Your Hands Are Cold." There are pieces that don't use piano, too. I especially love "Meryton Town Hall," the song that is played at the Meryton Assembly near the beginning of the movie, for its slight imperfections that make it all the more real and believable as the performance of amateur musicians.

Juno (2007)
Listening to this collection of indie and folk rock songs is almost as good as watching the movie again. With both contributions from The Moldy Peaches' Kimya Dawson written especially for the film, and rock classics from the likes of The Kinks, Buddy Holly and Mott the Hoople, the album is a perfect reflection of Juno's world. My favorite tracks are Sonic Youth's cover of The Carpenters' "Superstar" and Cat Power's beautifully simple "Sea Of Love."

Marie Antoinette (2006)
Whoever heard of using 1980s punk and new wave rock music for a movie that takes place in the 1780s? It totally works, though! One of my favorite moments in the film is a scene at a ball with the dancing set to Siouxsie and the Banshees' "Hong Kong Garden." When the song ends the dancers stop and applaud. Brilliant. (The Vivaldi concerto isn't too shabby, either.)

Bend It Like Beckham (2002)
Before Bollywood met Hollywood (Bride & Prejudice), Bollywood met London. This bilingual soundtrack features a few tracks by Indian artists like Bally Sagoo and Bina Mistry (Buster Poindexter's "Hot Hot Hot" in Punjab!), the Blondie classic "Atomic," and some good songs by British artists (such as "a lit-ull band called Texas!"). Yes, there's a Victoria Beckham song on here, but I just skip that one! Oh, and Tito Beltran sings "Nessun Dorma." Not quite Pavoratti, but okay.

School and Such

2009-09-29T18:28:00.000-07:00

Classes have been in session for a week now, and I've gotta say: kinda easy. I mean, seriously. I could teach these classes. And they're so boring. I doze off like five minutes in. I'm not even learning anything. I hate Shakespeare, I hate screenwriting, and, let's face it, learning how to be a Writing Center tutor is pretty pointless. (You may choose whether or not to take me seriously.)

I also have a new guilty pleasure: LOL Cats. I like the ones with real people, though. I even made a few.
Don't worry. This doesn't cut in to my TV watching time. I watched my latest Netflix selection, disc 2 of the Complete Series DVD of My So-Called Life, this afternoon. I really wish that those plaid flannel empire waist dresses would come back in style. They look so comfy. And what's Jared Leto up to these days? I mean, besides his band's song being in Rock Band, because whose isn't?

Today is Tuesday, and I don't have any regular Tuesday shows, so maybe I'll read Twelfth Night for the 80 millionth time.

Through the Looking Glass

2009-08-30T18:53:00.001-07:00

I will never be a photographer, but I was playing with the camera on my phone and some mirrors and I thought these turned out kind of neat.

"Ah! My beauty, past compare! These jewels bright I wear!"

"Through the Looking Glass"

"Portrait of a Lady"

"When Diet Dr. Pepper Attacks"

I Got Loud

2009-08-29T00:12:00.000-07:00

And what did I learn?

1. Jimmy Page, by his own admission, cannot sing.

2. The Edge always wears a hat. Always.

3. Jack White isn't British? (I know.)

4. Though I doubt I will ever be as passionate about the guitar as those three dudes are, I am passionate about creativity and self-expression. As Page said, every work of art comes from a creative spark. And that's what every twelve-year-old who hears Led for the first time and signs up for guitar lessons the next day, and every girl who writes a blog, is striving for.

Ghost Stories

2009-08-17T20:54:00.000-07:00

“And so, every year, on the anniversary of her death, Fanny Farnham's ghost wanders through the woods near the house where she lived, wearing only her nightgown, and searching for her lost love.” Jenny concluded her tale in a hushed, dramatic whisper, while Sarah and Lily gazed at her wide-eyed with rapt attention, their chins resting in their hands and their elbows on their knees. The three girls formed a close circle in the tiny tent in Jenny's backyard.
“Wow,” breathed Lily after a second. “That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard.”
“Romantic!” scoffed Sarah. “That's horrible! And kinda creepy.” She flopped onto her stomach, stretching out on top of her Mulan sleeping bag and pulling another Red Vine from the tub in the middle of the tent floor. “Even though I don't believe in ghosts.”
Jenny took a swig from her root beer. Her throat was parched after that long story. She gulped half the can in one swallow, let out a respectable belch, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she said, “one of you guys has to tell a ghost story now.”
“I don't know any,” claimed Lily, nibbling on a Red Vine and examining the sloppy nail polish job Jenny had given her an hour before.
“Just make something up,” Jenny encouraged.
Sarah sat up quickly. “I know!” she cried. “Let's play...” She paused for effect. “Truth or Dare!”
The other two girls' eyes gleamed. They had been introduced to the game at camp earlier in the summer by some older girls, and still thought of it as scandalously sophisticated.
“Okay,” they giggled, instinctively scooting closer together around the tub of Red Vines and the flashlight balanced on its end so that it cast its light in a cone toward the tent's ceiling.
“I'll go first,” said Jenny. “Lily. Truth or dare?”
Lily narrowed her eyes and scrunched her mouth up, then nodded. “Truth,” she decided.
Sarah snickered. “Chicken.” Lily stuck out her tongue, then turned her attention to Jenny, who wore a wicked grin.
“Okay,” Jenny said. “Did you kiss Kevin Plasky on the tire swing on the last day of school?”
Lily's pale face turned bright red before she covered it with her hands. “You did, didn't you!” cried Sarah.
Lily looked up. “Did you see?”
Jenny nodded. “He's a sixth-grader! Are you his girlfriend?”
Lily shook her head. “No! He's so stupid! And gross.”
“Then why did you kiss him?” Sarah wondered.
Lily shook her head again. “I dunno. Isn't it my turn now?”
“Oh, come on!” squealed Jenny. “You have to tell us!”
With a deep sigh, Lily shrugged and said, “I really don't know, you guys. I guess I just felt like it. Can I puh-leeeeease take my turn now?”
Jenny and Sarah looked at each other and wordlessly agreed to take pity. Sarah nodded. “Fine,” said Jenny.
“Okay,” began Lily, immediately perking up. “Sarah. Truth or dare?”
“Well,” said Sarah, “I'm not a chicken, like some people, so dare.”
Lily giggled and rubbed her palms together. “I dare you to... go into the woods, take off your panties, and hang them on a tree!”
Jenny burst out laughing. “That's such a good one!”
“All right,” said Sarah nonchalantly, standing and picking her way to the tent door. Jenny and Lily followed her outside, and they stood on the cool grass in their pajamas and bare feet, looking toward the woods that grew right up to the edge of the lawn.
“This is the easiest dare ever,” Sarah boasted, and started toward the trees.
The moon was almost full, the late summer sky clear and dark and spangled with glittering stars.
Suddenly, a sharp, chilly gust of wind tore through the still, warm air, whipping the girls' hair back and stinging their cheeks like the dead of winter. Just one snap, and it was gone.
Sarah halted mid-stride and turned to the other two girls, fear written across her face. “What... was that?”
“Probably Fanny,” Jenny muttered.
Lily looked at her sharply. “What?”
“Uh...” Jenny stuttered. “I forgot to tell you guys. Um, remember Fanny Farnham?” Lily and Sarah nodded. “Well,” gesturing toward the house behind her, Jenny continued, “this was her house.”
“What!” Lily repeated, shrieking this time.
“Yeah.” Jenny went on. “And, um, she was murdered... exactly eighty-seven years ago tonight.” Lily let out a yelp and darted back into the tent, then peeked her head out, eyes wide.
Sarah leveled her gaze at Jenny, a cocky smile playing about her lips. “I don't care. Ghost stories aren't even real. I'll still do it.” She turned on her heel and stalked determinedly to the edge of the woods, where she paused for second, then stepped between the trees.
Jenny crawled into the tent beside Lily. Together, they watched Sarah as she went a few feet into the forest, then reached beneath the hem of her night shirt and pulled her underpants down to her knees. She stepped out of them, first the right foot, then the left, and picked them up with one finger.
Just after she had draped the panties over a nearby low branch, another icy breath of wind ripped through the night, making the girls scream. Sarah sprinted back to the tent and dove head-first through the small opening, then collapsed into uncontrollable giggles.
“Why are you laughing?” demanded Lily, though she couldn't help smiling herself. Sarah shook her head, tears streaming from her eyes as she clutched her stomach.
Jenny let out a short chuckle. “Your face was so funny, Sarah! You've never run that fast in your life!” All Sarah could do was nod in response.
Finally, giddy from consuming large quantities of sugar and being scared silly, the girls laughed themselves to sleep. Their dreams were varied.
Lily dreamed of Kevin Plasky, kissing her on the tire swing. And on the tether ball court. And behind the gym. And at a school dance, in high school, both of them incredibly grown-up. He wore a crisp tuxedo, and she wore the perfect dress, which looked remarkably like Cinderella's ball gown from the Disney film. She sighed contentedly in her sleep.
Jenny dreamed that she was a famous writer, which entitled her to a lifetime supply of Red Vines and root beer. She, too, let out a happy sigh as she slept.
Sarah dreamed about a young woman in an old-fashioned nightgown, her hair long and curly down her back. The woman seemed to be looking for something. She searched and searched, then stopped short next to a tree and plucked a piece of cloth from one of its branches. She smiled eerily.
Sarah woke with a start, her breathing labored. She looked around the tent, saw her friends sleeping, and let out a relieved sigh. She quickly rejoined them in sleep. There were no more wintry breezes to disturb their slumber.
The next morning the girls awoke to a glorious day. The bright sunshine and birdsong made their giddy terror of the night before seem ridiculous. They went inside, where Jenny's mother made them blueberry pancakes and told them to clean up their tent and sleeping bags after breakfast. As they clumsily bundled the nylon into an impossibly small bag, they laughed again at their silliness.
“I can't believe we were so scared!” sighed Jenny.
“I know,” agreed Lily. “Ghost stories aren't even real!”
“I told you,” Sarah chided. “I wasn't scared at all.” She didn't tell the other girls about her dream.
Jenny laughed. “You were, too! I saw your face! Hey, are your panties still out in the woods?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Sarah, thinking for a minute. But, when she went back to retrieve her underwear, searching all around the tree she had hung them from, they were nowhere to be found.

Homesick

2009-07-28T21:08:00.000-07:00

After returning from the longest journeys, we are most aware of being home.

***

On the yellow-painted edge of the concrete sidewalk, I lean into the moistened breeze. The summer is still young, and the sun hasn't yet pierced through the thick blanket of clouds for Seattle's standard two months of warmth. The air current whips my hair back, blowing it into tangles, and pricks tears at the corners of my eyes. Though gray and wet, it is a beautiful day.

***

Five hours and 1700 miles earlier, I hug my parents and step into the security line, a shuffling, anonymous crowd occupied with removing shoes and jackets and quart-sized zip lock bags of toiletries- no more than 3 oz. bottles. Boarding pass and I.D. Laptops taken out of bags. Wait behind the yellow line, then walk through the metal detector.

I'm flying stand-by with no checked bags, which means I could be a terrorist, so I'm selected for further security procedures, says the guard.

“Do I win something?” I ask brightly.

“How about a full-body search?” At least he has a sense of humor, if a slightly creepy one.

Surprise! I'm not concealing a firearm on my person, or a box-cutter. There is nothing in my small carry-on that could be used as a weapon without getting really creative. Nail clippers? Maybe, but we'll let it slide. But that mascara needs to go in your zip lock bag.

So, apparently I'm not a hijacker. I am a twenty-one-year-old girl traveling alone for the first time in my life on a flight from Dallas to Seattle. I would like to stay a few more days, as my parents are doing, but I have to return to my job.

I have just been to my grandfather's funeral.

***

August, 1997: I am ten years old. I am sitting on a bench in the shoe department at the Bon Marche. My grandparents sit on the bench across from mine, watching me try on shoes. Grandma and Papa have taken me shopping for school. I'm starting fifth grade, and I have to have the right shoes.

I finish tying the laces on the plain white sneakers, then stand and walk around the bench. “Are they comfortable?” Grandma asks. She expertly presses down on my toes, feeling how much room my feet have to grow. “Do they fit?”

“They're okay. Can I try these on now?” I pull the lid from another box, revealing a more flashy pair of blue and silver basketball shoes. They cost twice as much as the white ones.

My grandma sighs. “Yes, you may try them on. But I think these white ones would work much better for you.”

I kick off the white sneakers and slip my feet into the basketball shoes, pulling the laces tight and tying them bunny-ear style. I bounce out of my seat and skip around the benches. “I love these!”

My grandpa smiles, chuckling at my delight. But, despite my adoration for these incredible shoes, my grandma explains to me that the white sneakers are more practical and economical. I have to admit that she's right.

***

June, 2008: I am twenty-one years old. I lie sleepless on a bed of air, listening to the sounds of the warm Texas night. I have kicked off the sheet. My head rests on a small corner of the pillow, letting the breeze from the open window brush my face.

My mind is adrift, aimless, as thoughts, memories, dreams skim across the surface, then turn to vapor, never fully realized.

From the dark and silent sea, something tells me to go to my grandmother's room, to climb into her bed as if I am a six-year-old waking up from a nightmare. I ignore the voice, though, because I am not sure that I've really heard it. I am soon asleep.

The next morning Grandma tells me that when she awoke, the covers on the other side of her bed were turned back. And I wonder: if I had listened to the voice, would I have seen him?

Nostalgia shows us what we wish the world was like.

***

August, 1997: Later, after our shopping is done, I am sitting in the leather back seat of my grandparents' car, surrounded by a new wardrobe in plastic bags. I pull the smooth cardboard shoe box out of its bag and flip the lid.

“What?” I cry. Lying inside the box are my beautiful blue and silver shoes. “I thought I was getting the white ones!”

Papa turns to me from the front passenger seat and looks at the shoes. “Oh, how did that happen?” I almost miss his wink as I pull the shoes onto my feet.

***

As I pull my shoes onto my feet, canvas flats with black and purple stripes, after passing successfully through security at the Dallas airport, I glance at my boarding pass and the signs around me, determining which direction I need to walk. I straighten and heave my bag up, putting the strap over my shoulder, and head toward my gate. I am pleased to find a Starbucks not 50 feet away.

I buy a grande iced white chocolate mocha, then settle into a cloth and metal chair to wait out the hour until my plane boards. I read a science fiction novel, I solve the Sudoku puzzle in an abandoned newspaper, I people-watch.

A family with five kids under seven gaggles by. A couple in their 60s with the kind of suitcases that have wheels. Two young men dressed in camouflage head to foot, brownish-green packs slung over their shoulders.

***

My grandfather was a Private in the United States Army. He served a year before his honorable discharge, before he even met my grandmother. He never fought in any battles, but he did shake hands with Elvis Presley.

He was interred in the Dallas-Ft. Worth National Cemetery on a beautiful day in June, given a military burial. Two officers saluted my family as we stepped into the gazebo where my grandfather's casket rested. With ceremony, while the bugler played “Taps,” they folded an American flag and presented it to my grandmother. She accepted it, saying, “God bless you.”

***

December, 2008: I am twenty-one years old. It is the day after Christmas, the first Christmas that I haven't heard my grandfather read the story of Christ's birth aloud to my family, sitting in silent awe, sacred reflection on a Winter night. We were all children on Christmas Eve, but not anymore.

I stand with my parents, my brother, my grandmother, my aunt and my uncle at my grandfather's grave in the Dallas-Ft. Worth National Cemetery. A poinsettia plant, vibrant red against the dull winter gray, has been placed in front of his headstone, beneath the dates:

1 September, 1934 – 23 June, 2008

This place, where thousands have been laid to rest, represents the grandfather I never knew, the soldier. The grandfather of my childhood was a kind and gentle man, with never a harsh word for anyone, always a smile.

My grandmother stands beside me, puts her arm around my shoulders. “I love you,” she says.

I respond, “I love you, too,” and I pray that I have inherited my grandfather's best qualities in addition to his name.

***

The flight attendant calls my name. I am the last stand-by passenger to board; I have gotten the last seat available on the plane, but there are still three more people waiting at the gate. I sit in the middle seat of a three-seat row. No window, no aisle, just four-and-a-half hours of my elbows pressed to my sides.

I read some more, I watch a movie on my brother's PSP, I ask the flight attendant for a ginger ale, I even sleep a bit. Then we are entering the familiar cloud cover of the Pacific Northwest, a welcome respite from the hot Texas sunshine.

***

July, 1991: I am four years old. It is the end of a beautiful day. The sun is setting through the leaves of the Tana Tree, the red maple in my grandparents' front yard in Kent, Washington. The tree that was planted the year I was born.

I am sitting on the front porch in Grandma's lap, wearing my favorite pink jelly shoes. Papa sits across from us, telling me the story of the Tana Tree, named for my cousin who lives in Germany and is only three months younger than I. His voice rumbles pleasantly, quietly, with a slight hint of the Arkansas country farm where he was born.

It is the same voice I hear reading the Gospel of Luke on Christmas Eve: “And it came to pass, in the days of Caesar Augustus...”

It is the same voice I hear giving the blessing for Thanksgiving dinner: “Dear Heavenly Father, we thank You for Your love...”

It is the same voice I hear on a warm Texas night, with the breeze from an open window brushing my face.

Nostalgia shows us what we wish the world was like.

***

We land, a bit bumpily, and I pull out my phone to call a friend of my mother's I've known my entire life, and whose daughter is my best friend. She's my ride home.

On the yellow-painted edge of the concrete sidewalk outside baggage claim, she enfolds me in a hug, holding me like a child for a moment. Then she lets go and glances down at my feet.

“I love your shoes!” she exclaims.

And then, for the first time since a fateful phone call from Dallas a week before, I smile into the beautiful day, and I am home again.

Repetitive and Redundant

2009-07-09T18:58:00.000-07:00

Writers love to write about writing. Virginia Woolf did it, Strunk and White did it, you know Stephen King did it. Of course most of the people who read these books about writing are other writers. Writers read about writing, and then write about reading about writing, and then readers read that and maybe write some more about it. As cyclical and redundant as this seems, it kind of makes sense. After all, if there's one lesson to be found in both Little Women and Orange County, it's to write what you know. Writers know about... writing. So that's what they write about.

I have to admit that I'm a bit guilty of this myself. I mean, I'm doing it right now. Plus, a couple of posts down from this one there's a poem about a poet. I've written several other poems about the actual process of writing poems, too. (Naturally, no one has read these.) I also recently wrote a song about song writing; at least, that's what it started out being about, but by the time I finished I was quoting a Psalm and singing a U2 song.

V1:
When I think that the songs have all been written
And there's nothing more, nothing left to say
You come and take my heart, my soul, my voice, my rhythm
And I hear a new melody begin to play

Ch:
And I am waiting
Waiting on You
To make my broken
Melody new
You are everything
Borrowed and blue
Every song I sing
You make me new

V2:
Of the million songs that praise your lovingkindness
All of them together couldn't say enough
But I give You one more voice, one soul, one song, one promise
'Cause my heart has been transformed by Your love

B:
I will sing, sing a new song (repeat)

In the fortieth Psalm King David wrote: "I waited patiently for the Lord, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit, out of the miry clay. He set my feet upon the rock and made my footsteps firm. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God." David wrote about writing, too. But his writings about the song writing process don't cover word choice or verb tense or, since music is a form of poetry, meter and rhyme. He wrote about the experience that the song came from. The only time he even mentions the actual song, in fact, he says that it's not even his; it's from God.

When I write, whether it's a song or a poem or a blog post, I usually don't think about the process; I just let the words flow. Consequently, I've always been perplexed when writers attempt to verbalize a thinking process that's different for everyone. (Isn't it odd that I can't really verbalize HOW I verbalize?) In that way, if in no other way, I'm a little bit like King David: my focus is on the experience that inspires the writing. And, as I realize now, like every good thing, every word and every song is from God.

No More Remakes!

2009-06-02T21:44:00.000-07:00

It really, really bothers me when someone calls a movie that's based on a book a "remake" of another movie based on the same book. And then when they call the earlier movie version the "original." I've heard people do this a lot, especially with Pride and Prejudice (2005) and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The latter doesn't even have the same title as the other movie based on that book! (The novel's title has "Charlie" by the way, not "Willy Wonka.") These movies, and dozens of others, are not based on any films; they are based NOVELS! So, therefore, they are not remakes, but new adaptations of those novels.

That's my rant. Good night.

Dear John

2009-05-19T22:47:00.000-07:00

A fruitless hope is falling in love with

Someone who's already dead.

I don't recommend it.

To be divided by centuries is

Far worse than being star-crossed.

I sat on a hard metal stool

Between book shelves, a worn

And tattered volume on my knees.

Its pages were rough between

My fingers, its scent of memory.

The words, full of sweet

Somethings, written to a lover

I imagined was me (fair creature

Of an hour). Darling Girl

Should be my name.

If only I could be married

To a poem!

The final letter, from Rome,

In November, before the magic

Hand of chance closed forever

Your gloom-pleased eyes,

Made me cry, and think.

Dear John, I love you, but

It will never work.

Before I cease to be, I will

Dry out many ballpoint pens, whether

My words fill high-piled, worn

And tattered books

Or not.

(This is about John Keats, in case you couldn't tell.)

Exquisite Corpse

2009-05-15T20:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday in my creative writing class we took a break from form poetry and dove into some French existentialism. We did a class activity called the "Exquisite Corpse" (don't ask me why it's called that; those French are crazy) in which we sat in a circle, each person with a piece of paper. Everyone would write a line of poetry, putting the last word of the line on the next line. Then we folded the paper so that only that last word was visible and passed it to the person next to us, who then had to use that word as the first word of the next line. (It sounds more complicated than it is.) My professor gave us prompts for each line, like "modify a noun using an unexpected adjective." It was fun. At the end, when everyone had their original papers back, we read the poems out loud and shook with riotous laughter. Mine, which I titled "Lady Macbeth, Uncut," is as follows:

Hope is the first snowflake of winter is the hottest season of the year that smells like nails on a chalkboard sounds like Steve Erwin in the jungle birds chirp when I cry at home is the best place to experience warm sunshine smile waiting to punch me in the mouth of Katty, which is clean to talk with springtime drawing near, fishermen are out gardening their gardens with buckets and hoes ga nihogonai, totemo utsukashi, but her Japanese had fallen out of use since high school hadn't done her well, off to college she will go, just go! walk into that fluffy door like a past time never let the sun rise again more work in less time is porous and deserves our contempt is what the chair felt when it yelled, get out! damned spot, it looks like mud

It sort of reminds me of Jack Kerouac, except it's not nearly as pretentious. Here's another poem I wrote for creative writing, one of those form poems we needed a break from. This form is called a villanelle, and it's sort of complicated to explain how the form works, but I don't think you really need to know how it works. The title, "Villain Nell," is a pun on the name of the form.

Villain Nell was just misunderstood
She didn't want to be so very bad
The thing she wanted most was to be good

She'd be a superhero if she could
But didn't want to disappoint her dad
Villain Nell was just misunderstood

She only did what anybody would
She wasn't really trying to be bad
The thing she wanted most was to be good

So when she led a man into the wood
To leave him there, she wasn't very glad
Villain Nell was just misunderstood

And when the forest floor was red with blood
Villain Nell was happy but a tad!
The thing she wanted most was to be good

So Villain Nell did everything she could
To be heroic, but it made her sad
Villain Nell was just misunderstood
The thing she wanted most was to be good

I know, it's kind of dark, but she's a villain!

Rhonda's Essential Guide to Girl Power (this has nothing to do with the Spice Girls)

2009-03-11T18:58:00.001-07:00

This is basically my version of Oprah's Favorite Things. I compiled a list of what my favorite things to read, watch, listen to, wear, and create with were over the past month or so and realized that many of them are quite feminine in nature (which makes sense in the "wear" category, I suppose). So put on a tiara and revel in the girliness!
Read:
Memoir- Someday My Prince Will Come (Jerramy Fine)
Subtitled "The True Adventures of a Wannabe Princess," this story is a charming, clever (at the risk of being cliche) modern-day fairy tale. Fine's relentless anglophilia and obsession with royalty, even as an adult, made my childhood fascination with Cinderella and Marie Antoinette, which still surfaces from time to time and I've always felt a bit self-conscious about, seem downright normal.

Psychology- Spinning Straw into Gold (Joan Gould)
Continuing in the fairy tale theme, Gould shows "what fairy tales reveal about the transformations in a woman's life." She discusses just about every fairy tale you've ever heard of, and a few you probably haven't, and explains how the ancient cultures that these stories originated from used them to illuminate the stages of human life (for both genders, but the focus in the book is on female life stages).

Poetry- Sonnets from the Portuguese (Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
A collection of forty-four sonnets written to her husband, Robert (yeah, Robert Browning; yes, the Robert Browning), this wasn't originally written in Portuguese. It's a clever title, though, isn't it? Sonnets contains one of the most famous poems in the English language: "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."

Novel- Rebecca (Daphne Du Maurier)
Alfred Hitchcock directed the film version of this 1938 novel, which was the perfect choice for the suspenseful psychological drama. The narrator is never given a first name, but it is mentioned that her name is "lovely and unusual," so, while I haven't done the research to know if there is a real scholarly debate about it, I've decided the narrator's name must be Daphne.

Magazine- April 2009 Marie Claire
There's a feature in the latest issue titled "We'll Show You Who's Funny" that's about women in comedy. Associate editor Yael Kohen interviewed a bevy of female comedy greats and a couple of up-and-comers, including Joan Rivers, Carol Burnett, Mary Tyler Moore, Janeane Garofalo, Suzanne Somers, Lisa Kudrow, and, my favorite, Kristen Wiig from SNL (plus there were a few that I'm not the biggest fan of, like Margaret Cho and Roseanne Barr, but, hey, they're doing their thing).

Listen:
Pop/Rock- Wild Hope (Mandy Moore)
Britney? Christina? Jessica? Who? This is Moore's first grown-up album, with more of a singer-songwriter/indie feel than her bubblegum debut ten years ago. It's legit. And I have to admit that a good portion of my love for this album belongs to the gorgeous cover art, with its warm lighting, outdoor settings and vintage-bohemian style.

Pop/R&B- Rockferry (Duffy)
The big hit from this album was last summer's "Mercy," a funk-infused, infectious pop song. The rest of the record is a little different, a little mellower, a little more soulful, and really fun to sing with, belting it at the top of your lungs!

Classic blues- Billie's Best (Billie Holiday)
Billie was the best. Even though it's hard not to imagine her singing the Oscar Meyer Bologna song since reading David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day, her voice and her songs still hold up.

Podcast- "Twilight Series Theories" (Kallie and Kassie)
An addictive podcast in which a Texan sister duo discusses Stephenie Meyer's addictive book series. I "tried out" several Twilight-focused podcasts before I narrowed it down to this one. Maybe because they're sisters, or maybe because their personalities are so clearly different from each other's, or both, the hosts have a dynamic that just works. Plus, they're very listener-oriented; most of the show is dedicated to reading and discussing listener feedback to the question of the week. Did I mention it's addictive? (To read my thoughts on Twilight, click here .)

Watch:
Reality series- Running in Heels (Style Network)
This is kind of like a smarter, less annoying and vapid version of The City. It follows three editing interns at Marie Claire magazine. There have only been two episodes so far, but I've already been sucked in.

Classic musical- My Fair Lady (1964)
Audrey Hepburn couldn't sing worth beans, but she's so delightful!

"Teen" mystery series- Veronica Mars (UPN/CW)
I own all three seasons of this brilliant show on DVD, and lately my roommate has been watching them for the first time. If I, you know, just happen to be in the living room or something and she's watching that great episode with the 80s dance where Veronica dresses like Madonna and Meg wears that horrid dress from Pretty in Pink, or the one where the dead guy washes up on the beach and he has Veronica's name written on his hand (creepy!), or any of the episodes with Alyson Hannigan (love her!), I might just casually sink down onto the futon and watch for awhile.

Essential female buddy comedy- Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion (1997)
Me too! Now, ordinarily when you make glue you need to thermoset your resin. And then, you add in a poxide, which is really just a fancy-schmancy word for any simple unoxygenated adhesive, right? Well, I thought, maybe, just maybe, you could increase the viscocity by adding a carbon derviative during the emulsification process. It turns out, I was right.

Wear:
Nail polish- "Broadway Burgundy" Long-wearing Nail Enamel (New York Color)
Scent- "Sheer Freesia" Body Splash (Bath & Body Works)
Sunglasses- Over-size Cat Eyes (Forever 21)
Bag- "Polka Dots" Messenger Bag (Olive N Figs)
Sneakers- Low-top Chuck Taylor All-Stars (Converse)

Create:
Software- Celtx
Notebook- Leather Cover Ruled Reporter (Moleskine)
Decor- Peel-and-Stick Wall Decals (WallPops)
Pencils- Ticonderoga No. 2 Soft Pencils (Dixon)

Become My Fan on Facebook!

2009-03-07T17:19:00.000-08:00

Here is a link to my "celebrity" Facebook page. (Click the title of this post.) Now, I know what you're thinking: "But Rhonda, you're not a celebrity. You don't even have your own reality show on E! or a crazy-rich geezer husband with possible ties to the Mafia." This is true, but I am trying to get more people to read my writing. This seemed like a good way to do it. So just click the link, would ya? If you're already logged in to Facebook it will take you right to my page. If you're not, it will take you to the log in page, and then to my writer profile. Click "Become a fan" and write something on my wall! Thanks!

Random Updates

2009-03-05T10:14:00.001-08:00

So, it's been awhile since I posted anything. I'm not feeling particularly creative at the moment, but I do have three topics of interest, completely unrelated to one another, that I will address.

(1) I've been listening to No Line on the Horizon pretty much nonstop since my CD copy came yesterday. I wanted it in CD format because I want to stick it to iTunes, and I'm kind of an old-fashioned girl. My favorite songs right now are "Magnificent" and "Unknown Caller." "Magnificent" has an awesome bass line, comparable to any from War (which has the best bass lines: "New Year's Day," "Sunday Bloody Sunday," etc.), in my opinion. And that guitar solo on "Unknown Caller"? There are no words.

(2) I wrote a sonnet for an assignment in my poetry class. The point of the assignment was to show us how hard it is to write iambic pentameter, or some such nonsense. Not to brag or anything, but I got a perfect score. Here it is:

I need the consolation of poetry,
For when I am distressed I lack the words
To render true my sensibility;
My efforts at such times effect absurd.
Though I do often wonder whether art
Is more disposed to famish than to feed
That growing flow'r of goodness in the heart
That drinks its fill of words, so lacks the need.
And when my mind cannot attune the two,
This virtue and this creativity,
I cannot help but wonder what I'd do
If either quality belonged to me!
But when the two are joined, a wonder's wrought,
For then a poem is born, the bloom long-sought.

(3) I have another article being printed in the Ellensburg Daily Record. I don't know exactly what day they're running it, but it will be before Tuesday. I'll check it every day and see. It's a story on this artist named David Garibaldi who's coming to Central to do this show where he paints six-foot portraits in just a few minutes, right there on stage. I actually got to interview him over the phone a couple days ago for the article. For any of my readers that are interested I'll try to get a copy of the paper (that'll be, what, three copies?).

Here's a link to the press release (which I also wrote) on the Daily Record's website.

This is just the press release, not the actual story.The story is much more interesting.

So that's the biggest news in my life right now. Until next time, over.

Five Cover Songs That Are As Good As, If Not Better Than, The Originals

2009-01-26T16:04:00.000-08:00

Cover songs: We've all heard them. Sometimes they're good, if unoriginal, copies of songs that were hits in their time. Sometimes they're heinous musical crimes that should be locked up in a vault and thrown to the bottom of the ocean. But every once in awhile an artist records a cover of another artist's song that is not only respectful of the original, but even presents something new musically. Here are five of my favorites.

"Sunday Bloody Sunday"
Original Artist: U2 (1983)
Cover Artist: Pillar (2004)
It might be bordering on blasphemy (against the gods of Rock) to say that any artist could play a U2 song better than U2, but Pillar comes pretty close. With a harder, more distorted guitar-heavy sound and less of a militaristic feel to the rhythm, Pillar's changes to the rock classic are subtle, but just different enough that the song is definitely their own. And the best part? The last verse, with the lyrics "And we've only just begun/ to claim the victory that Jesus won" sung with a lot more emphasis than in the original.

"Moonshadow"
Original Artist: Cat Stevens (1971)
Cover Artist: Mandy Moore (2003)
Moore did a whole album of cover songs in 2003, and they were all pretty good, but this one was my favorite. She keeps the folk song/lullaby quality of Stevens's version, but elaborates on his guitar themes with a strings and drums orchestral build-up. Her powerful-yet-sweet voice is the more noticeable difference from the original, though, and its purity offers a nice contrast to the more complex accompaniment.

"Toxic"
Original Artist: Britney Spears (2003)
Cover Artist: Yael Naim (2007)
Remember the video for the Spears version? It was like Alias! It's still the only Britney Spears song I have ever liked, say what you will about her newest album. Naim, best known for her 2008 break-out hit "New Soul," uses her ethereal vocals and minimalist instrumentation to turn the bouncy pop song into a bittersweet love ballad.

"High and Dry"
Original Artist: Radiohead (1995)
Cover Artist: Jamie Cullum (2004)
A great rock song translated flawlessly into a great jazz song. There's really nothing more to say.

"Your Song"
Original Artist: Elton John (1970)
Cover Artist: Ewan McGregor (2001)
This is from this little movie that came out in 2001. I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's called Moulin Rouge. It's pretty awesome. The song, like the movie, is totally over-the-top, turning Elton John's simple little love anthem into a Big Musical Number, complete with back-up vocals, a full orchestra and band, dramatic crescendoes and decrescendoes and an opera singer (Alessandro Safina). The biggest, and most pleasant, surprise is McGregor's voice; who knew Obi-Wan Kenobi could sing? (And, yes, Dad, he rides a mean BMW.)

***

And, here are just a couple of the worst cover songs (those ones that should be locked in a vault and thrown to the bottom of the ocean- except I would feel bad for the fish that had to listen to them):
-"I Want Candy"- Aaron Carter
-"Our Lips Are Sealed"- Hilary and Haley Duff
-"I Love Rock 'N Roll"- Britney Spears
-"All Summer Long"- Kid Rock (technically not a cover, but it samples "Sweet Home Alabama." Dude, you don't mess with Skynyrd.)

Friday: the Best Night on Television?

2009-01-10T10:28:00.000-08:00

I have previously awarded this title to Monday, what with How I Met Your Mother (CBS), Privileged (CW), and now the surprisingly addictive True Beauty (ABC; although I shouldn't be surprised, since it is a Banks/Kutcher production). But now I have reason to believe that Fridays, traditionally the Black Hole of TV nights where good shows go to die (the brilliant Firefly, the at least fresh and charming Ex-List), will now be the best night of the week, TV-wise. Here's why:

8:00- Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles (FOX). I've missed a lot of the second season so far because it was on Mondays, the second half of its time slot being the same as HIMYM. But the more-than-adequate first season has me convinced that I won't be disappointed. Plus, the upcoming release of the new movie Terminator: Salvation could very well give the ratings a much-needed boost.

9:00- Dollhouse (FOX). Created by Joss Whedon (Buffy; Firefly) and starring Eliza Dushku (Buffy; Tru Calling), this show seems like a dream come true. In a not-so-distant future, an underground, illegal operation hires people to have their memories erased, then "uploads" new memories into their brains for them to perform different jobs (hostage negotiator, escort, clown at a kid's birthday party, anything) for clients. It could have potential. If it can make it past the FOX curse, then its Feb. 13 series premiere could signify the beginning of an era.

10:00- Battlestar Galactica (Sci-Fi Network). The best frakkin' show on TV, if you ask me. The final half of its final season starts next Friday, Jan. 16. Who is the final cylon? What happened to Earth? Are the Lords of Kobol real? Will Hera and Nicky, the Hybrid kids, have any significance? Will Starbuck and Apollo finally get together for good (even though Anders is a good guy, for a cylon)? All burning questions that had better be answered, or I'm going to be writing some very stern letters.

Sorry to get all Entertainment Weekly on you, but it looks like I'm going to be one of those nerds who stays at home every Friday night. (Oh, wait, I already am... but at least now I'll have something better to watch than The Ghost Whisperer. Seriously.) In the words of The Cure, "It's Friday, I'm in love!"

When I Am Famous...

2008-12-03T21:15:00.000-08:00

I won't be famous until after I've done a few best friend and sister roles, but then I'll be cast as the leading lady in a huge blockbuster, and that will be my big break. I'll be on the cover of all the gossip magazines and on the Tonight Show and Tyra.

After all the buzz dies down a little, I'll take some similar roles, trying to replicate my previous success, but they'll all be flops. Then, fearing that my career has already peaked, I'll fall into a cycle of drug use and rehab, repeating several times until I take up Kaballah or Scientology or cheesemaking or knitting and kick the habit for good. Then I'll be on the cover of Vanity Fair.

Inspired by my new-found lust for life, I'll take a role in a quirky, low-budget indie film, for which I will be nominated for an Academy Award. (Eventually, I will receive a total of three Oscar nominations, but I won't win until the third time.)

Then I'll go on Inside the Actors' Studio. These are my answers to the ten questions:

1. What is your favorite word?
-"Sudoku"
2. What is your least favorite word?
-"Hurry"
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
-Perfect peace of mind
4. What turns you off?
-Stress
5. What is your favorite curse word?
-"Bangers and Mash," and yes, I know it's technically not a curse word. I'm not even sure what exactly it means, but it's so fun to say, for instance, when you stub your toe or hit your head- and I hit my head on stuff a lot- you just go "Bangers and Mash!" and it's so satisfying.
6. What sound or noise do you love?
-I actually really love bag pipes
7. What sound or noise do you hate?
-Someone singing off-key
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
-Tour guide
9. What profession would you not like to do?
-Substitute teacher
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
-"Well done, my good and faithful servant. Bathroom's over there." Because I'll probably have to go to the bathroom.

Then, after a string of highly-publicized romances with very famous, very handsome movie stars, all of which will end in bitter breakups, I will finally find true love with a director or a producer, or maybe a cameraman. We will be married in a multimillion dollar ceremony attended by such A-listers as John Travolta, Steven Speilberg and Oprah. We'll keep the ceremony a secret, but somehow photos from the event will wind up in half the magazines in the country.

The Hollywood press will invent some nickname for my husband and me by combining our first names and we'll pose together on red carpets and get voted cutest couple. (You know there's some magazine that has a "cutest couple" award. Hollywood is just like high school, except with lots of money and better cars.)

There will come a day when a photographer will get a picture of me in an empire-waist dress, the skirt of which is being blown by the wind in such a way that it looks like I'm pregnant, but I'm not. When I am pregnant, I won't try to hide it by wearing an empire-waist dress. Baby bumps are the new iPhones.

Eventually, through some combination of adoption from third-world countries and the fruit of my own womb, my husband and I will have six children. We will name them Khaki, Soccer, Lamppost, Cerulean, Halibut and Silly Putty. We'll make play dates for them with the children of other famous people and buy them extremely expensive strollers and baby clothes. They'll be pretty much the cutest kids ever.

I'll still be taking roles in movies, but less frequently and in more family-friendly projects. Then I'll decide that I want to retire from acting and start a farm in Connecticut with my husband, who will decide that he wants to retire from directing or producing or... camera-ing. We'll move to the farm with our kids and raise sheep and horses and host a spectacular Christmas party every year that will be attended by all the biggest stars.

The kids will grow up, and four of them will just live normal lives as accountants or teachers or something. One (probably Halibut- he definitely has the most potential) will become famous in his or her own right, as a director or screenwriter or musician, and one (most likely Cerulean- she's such a freeloader) will try to just coast on the fame of his or her parents until the world realizes what's going on. Then he or she will write a tell-all book about my life, and, though it will be poorly written, it will top all the bestseller charts for weeks.

I'll live out the rest of my days on the farm in Connecticut with my husband, maybe write a novel or two, and do a lot of charity work. Yep, my life will be so great when I'm famous... not that I've thought about it that much or anything.

Alternate Endings

2008-11-25T10:45:00.001-08:00

This is a paper that I wrote for my POES (Principles of English Studies) class. I rather liked it, and I got a good grade on it- 100%! Enjoy!

A common concept throughout literature is that of women being forced to, or choosing to, conform to the expectations placed upon them by a patriarchal society. F. Scott Fitzgerald and his contemporary James Joyce both wrote in a period of history in which women's rights were beginning to emerge and gain importance in the public mind. Joyce's “Eveline,” from his collection Dubliners, and Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, published ten years later, both contain female characters that illustrate the conflicted attitudes toward women and gender roles at the time. The women in both stories are reflections of the progress that women were making toward equality, but also of the tendency to revert back to a male-dominated existence out of habit. Eveline in “Eveline” and Daisy in The Great Gatsby are similar in their ultimate submission to the roles assigned to them by society rather than choosing another course in life, and in their unrealistic idealization of the men that represent those courses, perpetuating patriarchal views toward both women and men.

Eveline lives in constant fear of her father's violence and works not because she wants to, but because her father cannot work to provide for the family. She is also responsible for two children, having to step into the role of a mother at the age of nineteen. On the surface, she feels obligated to stay because of “the promise to her mother, her promise to keep the home together as long as she could” (Joyce 134). But, as soon as a way out presents itself, she jumps at the chance. She believes that, “in her new home, in a distant unknown country... people would treat her with respect then” (132). Eveline is not marrying Frank because she loves him; at least, that is not the only reason, or even the main one. She wants to marry him so that she can escape her domineering, violent father and hard, working-class life. “She must escape! Frank would save her....Why should she be unhappy? She had a right to happiness” (134). By viewing Frank as a means of escape, placing him in shining armor on a white horse, so to speak, Eveline objectifies him, setting up expectations of him that are sure to be disappointed eventually and, ironically, allowing herself to be objectified as well.

Daisy seems to have an easier life than Eveline; it is certainly a more luxurious life. Her marriage to Tom appears to be, if not happy, at least stable at the beginning of the novel, despite Tom having a mistress and his apparent indifference toward their child; he interrupts Daisy when she is talking about the girl to ask Nick what he does for a living (Fitzgerald 16). Beyond this, we see very little interaction between Daisy and Tom. At the end of the novel, Nick lumps the two of them together, claiming that Daisy is shallow and careless, but we know that Nick is not a reliable narrator, and a look into Daisy's past reveals a greater depth: “Her mother had found her packing her bag one winter night to go to New York and say goodbye to a soldier who was going overseas” (82). Whether or not this soldier was Gatsby (and it is most likely safe to assume that it was), Daisy's willingness to travel from Louisville to New York simply to say good bye to him implies that she had true feelings for him. Five years later, in the present of the novel, Daisy believes herself to still be in love with Gatsby, or in love with him again, but it is clear from their disjointed conversation that they do not really know each other anymore. Daisy's plan to leave her husband for her former beau is founded on a romantic image of Gatsby that she has built in her mind, an image which is fueled by Gatsby's invented identity. She, like Eveline, is allowing herself to idealize a man that does genuinely mean something to her, but who cannot rescue her like she expects him to.

Both women, after planning to leave their respective homes and run away with the men they have idealized, do not decide so much as fail to act on their intentions, and stay in the situations they were in from the beginning. For Eveline, this situation is oddly comforting: “It was... a hard life- but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life” (Joyce 133). Now that she has seriously thought about, even planned, making a major life change, Eveline finds that she can not. “She prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty” (135). She feels that her duty is to stay with her father, and she must do her duty. To do otherwise would put her in an unfamiliar situation. Similarly, Daisy finds that she cannot completely commit to running away with Gatsby. At the moment of confrontation between him and Tom, though she still says she is resolved to leave Tom, Daisy tells Gatsby, “Even alone, I couldn't say I never loved Tom... It wouldn't be true” (Fitzgerald 139). Daisy stays with Tom not only out of duty, but because she really does want to stay with him. Though she wants Gatsby too, she feels that Tom is the safer choice. As Sarah Beebe Fryer wrote in her essay “Beneath the Mask,” Daisy's “fear of emotions and her need for stability make her cling to her unsatisfactory marriage to Tom” (47). Both women end up choosing their perceived duty over happiness (or, what they think will bring them happiness) ostensibly out of obligation, but what they are truly deferring to is fear.

Daisy is no stranger to indecision. As Jordan reveals, the night before her marriage to Tom Daisy had some serious second thoughts, presumably triggered by a letter from Gatsby (Fitzgerald 82). Whether the letter is recent or one that she has saved is unclear, but either way she goes ahead with the wedding. For Daisy, financial security is what drives her initial decision to marry Tom; “Her voice is full of money,” (126) as Gatsby himself says. She can only briefly entertain the thought of living outside of the luxury in which she has been raised before rejecting it. Fryer also wrote of Daisy's need of security: “Her need was not for any particular person... but simply for an attainable partner who could provide- through marriage- the sense of identity and stability she so desperately craved” (51). She would rather marry a man she had only lukewarm feelings about than one that could not provide that security.

Eveline, too, craves stability. Frank seems able to offer it; he has a home in Buenos Aires, where he has “fallen on his feet” (Joyce 133). Yet as they are about to board the ship, “all the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her” (135). The use of water as a metaphor seems especially significant in light Eveline's desire for stability. The water of the sea is ever-changing, never still, and she now believes that leaving with Frank will throw her onto the waves, not only literally, and she will lose the stability she needs, even more than she needs the respect she thought would be hers after her marriage. Eveline's hesitation, like her desire to marry Frank, has very little to do with Frank himself. Her main reason for leaving Ireland with Frank had been to escape her hard life, so “she would not be treated as her mother had been” (132). But, as Florence L. Walzl points out in the essay “Dubliners: Women in Irish Society,” in Joyce's work “mothers so influence or manipulate their daughters that, in effect, the young women relive their mothers' lives” (47). This manipulation is seen in Eveline's promise on “the last night of her mother's illness” (Joyce 134) and is what ultimately makes her choose staying with her father over leaving with Frank; there is greater stability for Eveline in pleasing her parents than in a financially secure marriage.

Both women are afraid to take risks. They have both been brought up to accept the position allotted to them by a patriarchal society without complaint or question. And, since this is all they have ever known, when faced with the opportunity for something new, they revert back to the familiar. For both Eveline and Daisy, what drew them to the unfamiliar and made them consider giving up that security was an idealized, romanticized image of the men onto whom they projected their longings. For Daisy, this longing was for freedom, and for Eveline, respect. But in the end they both choose to keep their lives as they are, which perhaps is for the best. Would Daisy really have been happy had she left Tom for Gatsby, assuming he hadn't been murdered? Would Eveline have found the respect and affirmation she so clearly longs for had she gone to Buenos Aires with Frank? The alternate endings that they ultimately rejected may not have brought them happiness, and who is to say that the lives they end up with won't, either? While they may have chosen submission, the point is that they chose.

Works Cited

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books Limited, 1981.

Fryer, Sarah Beebe. “Beneath the Mask: the Plight of Daisy Buchanan.” Fitzgerald's New Women: Harbingers of Change. Ann Arbor, Michigan: UMI Research Press, 1988. 43-55.

Joyce, James. “Eveline.” Fiction: a Pocket Anthology. Ed. R.S. Gwynn. New York: Pearson Longman, 2007. 131-135.

Walz, Florence L. “Dubliners: Women in Irish Society.” Women in Joyce. Eds. Suzette Henke and Elaine Unkeless. Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 1982. 31-54.

Yes, Rhonda, There is a Mr. Darcy

2008-11-14T11:24:00.000-08:00

Dear Miss Austen,

I have lived twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex me, except that I have yet to find one who inspires my deepest affections. All of the young men I meet seem more similar to either Mr. Collins or Mr. Wickham, to varying degrees. I would be satisfied with a Mr. Bingley, but need I despair of ever finding my Mr. Darcy? Does he exist outside of novels?
If you say it is so I will believe it.

Rhonda Watts

***

My dear Miss Watts,

Never despair! It is true that in novels the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, and the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour conveyed to the world in the best chosen language. Yet it remains that novels are not life, and this intelligence, I gather, is from what your despair would spring. But in this great universe the truest measure of a woman is not of the everyday details of her life, but of her grasp of the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Rhonda, there is a Mr. Darcy. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and friendship exist, and you know that they abound and give your life its greatest happiness. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Mr. Darcy. It would be as dreary as if there were no Miss Wattses. There would be no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. The eternal light with which the hope of young womanhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Mr. Darcy! You might as well not believe in love! You might go one and twenty years in the world searching for him, but even if you did not find him, what would that prove? No woman sees her Mr. Darcy until the time is right. The most real things in the world are those which we cannot see by searching.

You may have your Mr. Collinses and Mr. Wickhams and even your Mr. Bingleys, and hope that they are enough, but there does exist an affection which not the strongest man, or even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside the curtain and lead you to the affection you dream of. Is it all real? Ah, Miss Watts, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Mr. Darcy! Thank God he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Rhonda, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of womanhood.

Yours affectionately,
Jane Austen

Paging Bram Stoker...

2008-08-18T20:09:00.000-07:00

"Dang it!" I muttered as the light turned red and I screeched to a halt. I turned down the volume so that The Killers' Hot Fuss came through my mom's car stereo a little softer. I had to get to Target. I had just finished reading Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. It was a paperback copy, so it had the first chapter of its sequel, New Moon, at the back. I had read that, too, right to its cliffhanger ending, so now I had to go buy the book at Target for $8.79.

I still had several hours before the store closed, yet there was a sense of urgency pushing me, compelling me, even as I sat at an intersection literally two minutes away. After an eternity the light turned green and literally two minutes later I was in the Target parking lot.

I almost ran to the back of the store, for once not even glancing at purses, clothes or shoes, even bypassing a rack of DVD's with a sign displaying their price, a tempting $7.50. I was relieved to find a copy of New Moon in stock in paperback. For a minute I entertained the idea of buying the third and fourth books in the series, too, to avoid repeating the agony I had just been through. But when I looked, I saw that the third book, Eclipse, was completely out of stock and the fourth, Breaking Dawn, its debut being only a couple of weeks old, was only available in hardcover. So, I picked up just the one volume and wandered around for a bit, trying to look casual, trying to convince myself more than the preoccupied shoppers around me.

Finally I meandered to the check-out lanes, grabbing a 20-ounce Coke and a package of Iced Tea Icebreakers on my way. There, standing in line, a morsel of guilt sneaked its way into my mind as I thought of my new copy of I Capture the Castle sitting at home on the coffee table, only the first two chapters having made it to the other side of my Post-it bookmark from the rest of its pages. "I didn't used to be like this," I thought. "I didn't used to abandon classic literature for teen vampire novels. What's wrong with me?"

* * *

That was almost a week ago, and I'm doing much better now. Even though I finished New Moon less than 48 hours after I bought it and then ordered the third and fourth books from Amazon (you save 5% by buying them together), I'm still waiting for them to come in. I've managed to pass the time, though.

I Capture the Castle is a lovely and delightful book, I've found, unlike anything I've ever read yet somehow deeply familiar. (If I had an older sister and a younger brother and a retired-author father and a twenty-nine-year-old stepmother who used to be an artists' model and we all lived together in a rundown Norman castle in England in 1948, this very blog might be remarkably similar to the first-person narrative of Dodie Smith's novel.)

Also in this time of waiting, I've had a chance to think about the dilemma I discovered in the check-out line at Target of reconciling vampires and classic literature. The solution is ridiculously obvious, as I'm sure most of my readers (meaning three out of the four of you) have already thought of and are now furiously shouting at your computer screens: "DRACULA!!!!"

Yes, Count Dracula, the infamous, ever ubiquitous title character of Bram Stoker's classic novel is perhaps the prototype, or at least a reference point, for the multitude of vampires in current pop culture. I first (and last) read Dracula as a high school senior determined to become well-read in classics beyond my Austen-Bronte-Alcott safety net, years before I discovered Buffy. (I was born half a decade too late to be in its initial target audience, so I've been borrowing the DVD's from a friend.) Vampires were completely off my radar, so I came to the novel with only a vague idea that vampire stories were weird and maybe a little creepy. I didn't like Dracula.

Fast forward three (gulp!- almost four) years and I'm hooked on a series of teen novels about vampires that are certainly a little weird (in a good way) but that I wouldn't really call creepy. They are fantasy, suspense, romance, but not horror. I find my Target check-out line guilt unfounded, for they are to me what I've discovered I Capture the Castle to be, though in a vastly different, rather darker package: escapism.

2008-08-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

I put off writing this for as long as I could. I wrote songs and stories, poems and letters, but not this. I've put this off for so long because... How can I say goodbye? How can I say everything that is in my heart and echoes with each beat? Bring all of my memories from the back of my mind and put them on paper? For there are not many from my childhood that do not include you. You were always there for me, quiet but strong, another person to guide me, to teach me, to model for me a life of love and faith, the greatest gift you could have given me. And now, it is because of that gift that I can say goodbye, because I know it is not forever.

The night you left us, I wrote this: In the heart of my flesh I am a little girl who has lost her Papa. But in the heart of my spirit I know that we will meet again one day. Not as we were on Earth, but whole, our true selves, restored in the light of God's presence. Though my heart mourns a loss, you have gained Eternal Joy, and I rejoice for you. Until we are face to face in the land that shines brighter than the sun, I will continue to rejoice. I will live, I will laugh, I will pray, I will hope, I will dream, I will love, and I will remember you.

Rugrats

2008-06-23T18:50:00.000-07:00

Note: this post is not finished.

I work at a child care center. I hear those sighs of pity. Working in a child care center is really a great way to get exercise, especially if you work with 12- to 18-month-olds like I do. It's also a great way to get some free entertainment during the day, because if you don't have anyone over the age of four to talk to, you can just mock the children. They can't tell you're mocking them. They're not even two yet; they can't talk and they can't even completely understand English yet. They also have a very underdeveloped sense of humor, so if they see a smile, they think it's a good thing and they smile too.

You can really say anything you want to a one-year-old as long as you have the right facial expression and tone of voice. For example, "You're a stinky little girl, aren't you? You smell like poop and tuna!" and, "Look at your big head! I can't believe your mommy found a shirt that fits over it! You're going to have a hard time walking with that thing weighing you down!" when said with a huge smile and in an excited tone are real crowd-pleasers.

There is also fun to be had with books. Reading to a one-year-old is practically fruitless. If it's your idea, they're almost never interested. If it's their idea, they usually just want to sit in your lap, hold the book upside-down, point at one picture for five minutes while yelling out several nonsense syllables, before turning the rest of the pages as fast as they can and then throwing the book across the room.

Set Me Apart

2008-06-01T18:34:00.000-07:00

I wrote this song recently. I want to set up an Mp3 of a recording I made of it with Keith so you can all hear it, but for now, here are the lyrics.

(verse 1)
Lord You hear me when I call
And You catch me Every time I fall
But I want so much more
Could you show me what I'm looking for?

(Chorus)
Set me apart
My mouth with your words fill
Change my heart
Conform my mind to your will
Let me be a sanctuary dedicated unto you
Give me a brand new start
Set me apart

(verse 2)
Father There are things I've done
And I've taken glory from your Son
So I give it back to You
I want serve you in everything I do

A Leap-year Day Miracle!

2008-02-29T12:14:00.000-08:00

A tradition in many European countries holds that on February 29th a woman may ask a man to marry her, and if he says no, he has to buy her a gift. With that in mind, I'm thinking of proposing to a bunch of guys, like maybe six or seven. Then when they all say no, I'll get them to all chip in and buy me one big gift, like, say, a laptop or a bass guitar. Of course, if one of them says yes, I'll have a problem.

Now for the miracle. Today is Friday.

Movies By the Book

2008-02-12T13:04:00.001-08:00

In anticipation of Prince Caspian, which is being released in May of this year, I was reading a few articles about it online. I clicked on a few links and found this quiz: Which Chronicles of Narnia Character are You Most Like? Of course I took the quiz, and I found out I'm Lucy! She's my third favorite character, after Reepicheep and Jill, but looking at the other results it looks like they only used characters from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, so I'll take it!

There seems to be a trend lately of making films based on children's fantasy novels. It started with Harry Potter in 2001 (that's when the first Lord of the Rings film was released, too, but I don't know if it can be considered a children's book). By the end of 2005 there were a slough of others, including Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Five Children and It, Ella Enchanted, and the aforementioned LW&W.

This past holiday season saw the release of The Dark is Rising (based on the novel by Susan Cooper, which is really good) and The Golden Compass, which wasn't nearly as successful as all the hype predicted. I read the latter when I was younger, too (I never realized how many fantasy novels I read between the ages of 8 and 14 until they all started being made into movies!), and it was okay. As for the controversy surrounding Phillip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy, all I have to say is this: the author is an atheist, but he wrote books about killing God. How can you kill God if He doesn't exist? Besides, like I said, the book is just okay, so it's not worth arguing over.

Any way, soon a film based on the Spiderwick series will be released. I haven't read any of these because I believe I was already at least in high school before the first one was published, and they have a slightly younger target audience. And, as I said before, the highly anticipated (at least by me) release of Prince Caspian is this May. Hollywood studios are probably going to milk this trend for all it's worth and keep making films based on children's fantasy novels as long as they can make money on them. Here are a few more children's fantasy novels that I think would make good movies.

The Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander
I read all five of these books in three days the summer I was eleven. Disney made an animated version of The Black Cauldron in (I think) the late 80's. It actually combined the plots of the first two books, The Book of Three and The Black Cauldron, but I think all five books should be filmed each as their own movie, and in live action. Not quite as good as Narnia, but almost, because the land of Prydain is based on ancient Wales!

The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit
This book was originally published in 1907, so it's a little older, but I remember devouring it when I read it for the first time at ten. Nesbit pretty much invented the three- to- five- children- find- a- magical- creature/ land/ object- and- have- adventures- while- learning- to- appreciate- each- other genre, and many authors since then and today, including C. S. Lewis and J. K. Rowling, owe something to her.

East by Edith Pattou
Based on a Norwegian fairy tale, this novel was actually written for teenagers, not children, but who's being technical? "East of the Sun and West of the Moon" has been one of my favorite fairy tales since I was seven. I wrote a review for Amazon.com that's really good. Read it here.

The Novels of Edgar Eager
Half Magic, its sequel Magic by the Lake and companion books Knight's Castle and The Time Garden; Magic or Not? and its sequel The Well Wishers; and Seven Day Magic, which stands on its own, are all great books. Eager gives credit where credit's due: he mentions E. Nesbit's work at least once in every novel and recognizes her influence on children's fantasy.

The Once and Future King by T. H. White

The first part of this novel, The Sword in the Stone, has been Disney-ized, back when Disney was still respectable (I mean that in the best way possible). White based his book on Sir Thomas Mallory's Le Morte d'Artur, the definitive work on Camelot legends. I know, there are a lot of King Arthur movies out there already. The story of Arthur, Gueneviere, and Lancelot is probably one of the most-used in literature and film (outranked only by Romeo and Juliet and maybe Pride and Prejudice). But I think this is a different angle on the tale. Besides, after the disappointment of 2004's King Arthur, we deserve a good Camelot movie, so it should either be this or a remake of the Camelot musical.

The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley

Again, a book that's technically for teens, but I've seen it in the children's section of several libraries. This book will make an amazing movie, and not one that just kids will like. It has everything any reader of fantasy expects: magic, epic battles, quests and tournaments, mystery, lore, even a little romance, and it has the added bonus of being a story from a female perspective, something we need more of. McKinley wrote a prequel titled The Hero and the Crown that takes place hundreds of years earlier. It was good, but not as good.

I might just have to write the screenplays myself.

Story Time

2008-02-08T13:23:00.000-08:00

As some of you may know, I am planning on going to Central this fall. I'm also planning to pay my tuition... somehow. I've researched scholarships and I found this one that seems like I could possibly have a chance of getting it.

It's the L. Ron Hubbard (yep, the Scientology guy) Future Authors Award. You're supposed to write a science fiction or fantasy short story and then four winners each year receive $1000 and then of those four a grand prize winner receives an additional $5000. Sounds great, right? My only question was: how am I going to write a science fiction or fantasy story that's good enough to win such a prestigious award?

The rules of the contest state that you can't use worlds or characters created by other authors (plagiarism, who knew?) so there goes my Pride & Predator idea (Lizzy Bennet takes out the Predators- they've been on Earth since, like, 1823 or something, remember? So it wouldn't be that much of a stretch- and then maybe we'd find out that Caroline Bingley is a Terminator). I assumed that Greek Mythology was public domain, and I thought it might be fun to play around with, but I couldn't really come up with a story based on it that wasn't completely lame.

But then, last night during my shift at Maple Valley Library, I noticed a book titled Time Lord. I was intrigued, so I pulled it off the shelf. The subtitle is "Sir Sanford Fleming and the Creation of Standard Time." He's the guy who came up with the Prime Meridian and time zones. Interesting... from time zones, a fascinating and very real concept, it's just a small leap of the imagination to time travel, a fascinating and very science fiction concept. I can use that.

I don't really have a story yet, but I have the concept, and that's the hook. Story telling has never been that big of a problem for me; I think I can come up with something pretty good. And if the story is pretty good at least, I think I have a decent shot at the scholarship. It's just motivating myself to actually write the dang thing that I'll have to work on.

Maybe when I finish I'll post it on here. Stay tuned!

If I Were a TV Exec...

2008-01-25T12:12:00.000-08:00

So Keith already posted about this, our TV on DVD prime time schedule to help us survive the writers' strike (seriously, it's about time the studios gave in), but I decided to post our schedule, too, with my comments. Beacuse I'm more interesting.

Sunday

Malcolm in the Middle

This is a sitcom like no other. Even if you don't have any brothers, even if your parents are relatively normal, and even if you're a girl it's hilarious.

The Simpsons

Ah, the classic, original animated sitcom about a family even more dysfunctional than yours. May it live forever.

The X-Files

This was such a good show! Why the bleep did Mulder leave?

Masterpiece Classic: The Complete Jane Austen (new episodes)

New Austen adaptations hosted by Dana Scully? I'm there!

Monday- Space Night

Firefly

I just can't say enough about this show. I can't say enough about how amazing it is and I can't say enough about how stupid FOX is for cancelling it.

Space: Above and Beyond

I've never seen this one. Keith says it's good, though. Plus, it goes with the space theme.

Battlestar Galactica

Frak, I'm not going to get through them all before the new season! Oh, well, I already read in TV Guide that Tyrol's a cylon, so what's the point?

Tuesday

Scrubs

Frick, this is the last season! I wonder if J.D. and Elliot are going to be like Ross and Rachel.

The Office (BBC)

So much funnier than the American version's first season. And if you watch it about four times, you start to actually understand what they're saying.

Keen Eddie

Another show that I don't know very much about, but, honestly, even if it sucks, I'll enjoy mocking it mercilessly.

Chuck

Save the computer geek, save the world!

Wednesday- Girls Who Kick Butt Night

Dark Angel

I've seen about half the first season of this one and I have to say I like it. I tried to convince Keith that in this time slot we should have the original Girl Who Kicks Butt (Buffy, of course), but he wasn't going for it.

Alias

This is the show that made me want to be a CIA agent for about two months in tenth grade. It really jumped the shark, though, toward the end.

Veronica Mars

Veronica Mars!

Thursday- Girls Who Kick Less Butt Night (and Heroes)

What I Like About You

Amanda Bynes: hilarious. The show: okay.

30 Rock

Tina Fey is my hero. I want to be just like her when I grow up.

Gilmore Girls

I own all seven seasons of this show. If we watch one episode a week, that's enough for almost three years of striking writers. We will survive!

Heroes

Seriously, what happened in the second season? The first was so good!

Friday- TGIF, Watts Style!

Friday Night Lights

Who would have thought I would like a show about football? Not me! (Okay, I guess it's not really about football, but it has that as its cover, kind of like Jerry Maguire.)

Dead Like Me

I just bought the first season on DVD and Keith has probably already finished it as I write this. So, I don't know if it will stay in this time slot. We might have to pick something else. (Buffy! Buffy! Buffy!)

Arrested Development

I just can't say enough about this show. I can't say enough about how amazing it is and I can't say enough about how stupid FOX is for cancelling it. (Hey, is there an echo in here?)

How I Met Your Mother

I know, I'm surprised, too. A good sitcom on CBS? Described by a staff writer for Entertainment Weekly as the perfect sitcom, this is the perfect show to cap off the week.

Saturday

Miniseries and/or movie

We own about a kajillion movies plus a few miniseries (BBC's Pride and Prejudice, Dune, Children of Dune, and a few History Channel productions), so we thought we should give them some time in our schedule. Ahhh, movies.

So, that's the lineup. I'll repeat Keith's invitation to come on over if you want to watch something. Happy viewing!

The Moment Christmas Happens

2007-12-06T17:44:00.000-08:00

December 13, 2000

Every year, the Christmas Spirit hits me in a different way. Sometimes with a song, others with a Christmas movie, and still others with the decor of the season. But this year was different. The other day I was sitting in math class and absentmindedly humming the tune of "O Come All Ye Faithful." Taking a bit more notice, I began to sing the words softly. I was on the second verse, the part where it says, "Glory to God, Glory in the highest," when it hit me. Christmas isn't simply about songs, religious or secular, or movies, or trees. Sure, it's about those things, too, but the true, original reason for celebrating Christmas is Jesus. Jesus deserves all the attention we give to the extra stuff like songs and movies. He deserves all the glory. Jesus deserves everything we can give Him and more. He is the way, the truth and the life. No one can go to God except through Jesus. And it was through Jesus, in a stable in Bethlehem 2000 years ago, that God came to us. That is what Christmas is all about.

December 6, 2007

It's not always with music, though. Sometimes Christmas happens when I'm standing in the check-out line at Bartel Drugs to buy a copy of TV Guide, while the heady scent of magazine perfume samples mingles with the rich aroma of fifty-cent chocolate bars, and the sight of a child giving his precious handful of change to a Salvation Army Santa nearly brings tears to my eyes.

But for me, Christmas does happen with music a lot. Like when I'm driving home from work one night listening to Nat King Cole's version of "Silent Night" and singing along, my pure alto skimming over Nat's smooth baritone: "Radiance beams from thy holy face/ With the dawn of redeeming grace/ Jesus, Lord at thy birth..."

This year it happened with music again. I was lying on my bed listening to Rebecca st. James' Christmas album. It might be my favorite Christmas album, or at least in my top five. It's ten years old, and most of the songs sound totally nineties (think faux-grunge and drum machines). But it's worth it for the non-traditional renditions of classic carols, a soulful "Sweet Little Jesus Boy," a satisfying cover of John Lennon's "Happy Christmas," and the ethereal beauty of st. James' version of "Silent Night."

Christmas happened as I listened to the last song on the album, titled "A Cradle Prayer." In the liner notes of the CD, st. James writes: "Imagine yourself, sitting by baby Jesus' cradle on the night He was born, and singing to Him everything you were feeling inside... the lyrics just flowed onto the paper."

As I lay there listening to the words, "Jesus I love you, my Lord, my life... Here in the quiet, the still of the night/ I am in awe of you," I began to wonder what I would say if I had been there the night Jesus was born, while the heady scent of fresh-cut hay mingled with the rich aroma of cow manure, how the sight of a Child giving His precious life for the salvation of the world would bring tears to my eyes, even as it did in my own time and place. Could I say anything at all? Or would I simply gaze in speechless wonder at the Creator of the Universe lying in a feeding trough with a teen-aged girl, a carpenter, some guys who watched sheep for a living, and a bunch of livestock for company?

Jesus came to Earth in the most humble way possible, but I have a sneaking suspicion that even cloaked in ordinariness, the Christ Child was still an awesome sight to behold, and I would be incapable of forming a coherent sentence when faced with His physical, visible presence. But, fortunately, Rebecca st. James already wrote exactly what I would be thinking: "Why would you, Creator and King/ Come as a baby for all, for me?/ Beautiful Savior my God, my friend/ I am in awe of you."

And in that moment of awe and complete wonder, that is when Christmas happens.

The Case for Reason

2007-11-01T13:14:00.000-07:00

I believe in Truth, with a capital "T." Universal, undeniable, eternal Truth. Augustine of Carthage believed in Truth, too, and he proved its existence with math. Not the approach I would have taken, but it served his purpose. Basically, he said that in an equation such as 7+3=10, we all know the answer to be true, it has always been true, and it always will be true. We can not change it, no matter how sharp our faculty for reason or how ardently we claim not to believe it.

Truth does not require belief, or anything beyond its own existence, to be Truth; its existence is intrinsic to its nature and in it are contained all knowledge, reason and sense of morality. There must be a being which embodies universal, undeniable and eternal Truth, since existence, or being, is part of Truth's nature, and this being is no other but God. When one discovers Truth, one discovers God.

C. S. Lewis was an atheist for decades, arguing that if a good and all-powerful God existed, He would not allow evil to exist. But then he saw the hole in the argument: if there is no God who is Truth, how are we able to recognize evil, the lie, to discern right from wrong? There must be a Truth, a moral absolute, a God who created us and instilled us with this knowledge.

Without Truth, the universe, and everything in it, would not exist. There would be no rationality or order or reason or morality. There would be nothing, what the Greeks called Chaos. Since this Truth is so vital to our very existence, it is natural for us to want to know it, to discover it and understand it, and since the dawn of time humans have strived to do just that.

The Greeks, like Augustine, employed mathematics, pure reason. The universality of numbers suggests the existence of something higher than human reason, and the Greeks developed philosophy for the purpose of finding out what that was, of discovering Truth. Philosophy, which means "love of wisdom," was born out of reason, and gaining wisdom from the search for Truth was thought to be the highest aspiration.

The ancient Hebrews approached the search differently. They believed that only by following the Law would they attain Truth. By adhering to the Law and believing in its Maker (the source of Truth) they fulfilled their purpose.

The Greeks were people of reason; the Jews, of faith. In early Christianity these two approaches to Truth caused misunderstandings, which lead to tension and disagreement between Jews and Gentiles, "for Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom" (1st Corinthians 1:22).

Traditionally, Christianity has upheld the Jewish side of the debate, since, after all, Jesus was a Jew, and tended to reject reason as incompatible with the faith required for salvation. But Clement of Alexandria, a second century Christian writer, claimed that Greek philosophy, like Jewish Law, was a "schoolmaster," or preparation for the Truth of Christ: "for philosophy itself did once justify the Greeks." And indeed, the Greek philosophers did reason their way to monotheistic belief centuries before Judaism ever spread much beyond the Jordan River Valley, when all other cultures in the world, with the exception of Egypt for a few years, had always been polytheistic. Their reason lead them to God, though they did not know it.

While the Jews awaited the fulfillment of the Law, the key to their faith, the Greeks sought and found the answer to their philosophy, but didn't recognize it until Jesus came. He came to fulfill the Law and justify by faith, but also to be the Answer to all questions asked by reason. Jesus is the Messiah of the Jews and the Christ of the Greeks. He is the author of both faith and reason. He is Truth.

How to Have Fun in a Department Store Without Spending Any Money

2007-10-18T09:39:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had the urge to go shopping, but were completely broke, or just didn't want to spend any money? If you're male, I probably lost you at the word "shopping." But if you're female, you probably know exactly what I mean. The next time you get the itch, don't fight it! Grab a friend or two, get to a department store and have the best shopping trip of your life without spending a dime!
Pick your store. This first step is very important, as it will determine the nature and degree of your merriment. A store like Barney's or Neiman Marcus is not going to be very tolerant of any loud or attention-grabbing antics. For that you want somewhere like Kmart or Wal-Mart. But if outrageous pranks aren't your style, go ahead, go for a fancy place. They have escalators! Which brings us to...
Ride the Escalators. In the fancier stores, you have to be a little more discreet, but this is an easy thing to do discreetly. Start by going as far up as you can, and when you get to the top floor, walk around a little before going down again. If you're over the age of six, escalators can get old pretty fast unless you make it a little more interesting. There is a scene in the movie Elf in which Will Ferrel's character, who has never seen an escalator before, attempts to ride one several times before, more or less, succeeding by practically doing the splits on it, attracting the attention of a crowd of shoppers in the process. Re-enact this scene for a laugh, or just go up the down escalator.
Try Stuff On. This probably isn't something you would do in the less expensive stores (unless you were actually going to buy something) because it's just not as fun. But in an upscale department store there's nothing more fun than trying stuff on, and you probably won't be tempted to buy anything since the prices can be pretty steep. Everything is fun to try on but the best things are jewelry, shoes, and wedding gowns. Jewelry goes without saying, and shoes are a natural mood lifter; there's nothing more confidence-boosting than slipping into a fierce pair of heels and strutting around the shoe department for a few minutes. And wedding gowns... well, every girl knows. Although, if you're not actually engaged and you want to try on wedding gowns, it might be a good idea to wear a fake engagement ring in case the fitting room attendant is on a power trip and won't let you try on any wedding gowns unless you "prove" that you're "really getting married." Gosh.
Get Your Make-up Done. A lot of department stores with make-up counters will give you a free make-up makeover. The attendant will even give you tips on what kinds of products to use. They do usually expect you to buy something, but just say something like, "I think I'll browse a little," and then when they move on to another customer, just quietly slip away.
Ask for a Non-existent Product. The key to making this work is to ask for something that sounds like it could be real product. It makes it even better if you make up something really vague, that sounds like it could be one of several different kinds of things. If you're short on ideas, try this: take any word from the first list below and pair it with any word from the second list and there you have it!

List 1:

welcome

plush

butterfly
life-size
jumbo
squishy
hippo
holiday

List 2:
covers
headbands
bears
vans
puppets
brushes
glasses
pants

Of course, what makes this even funnier is you make up something that turns out to be a real product. If this happens, and the store employee shows you where it is, say that's not what you're looking for and make up a description of something completely different. The hardest part will be keeping a straight face.
Make a Documentary. This of course requires a video camera and at least two people. You can really make a documentary about anything you want. It doesn't have to have anything to do with the store you're in, although that can make for some interesting material. Or you can just film your shopping trip or follow a complete stranger around the store with the camera, secretly, of course. Then put it on Youtube.
Dodge Security. The store security, if they're doing their job, will eventually catch on that you're not there to buy anything, which is, after all, the intended purpose of stores. So you may need to do a few evasive maneuvers to throw them off your scent. Try taking something into the fitting room, not a wedding gown, but something that an average person on an average day might actually buy. Or talk to a store employee. What you talk about doesn't really matter so long as it looks like you're asking them a legitimate question. The security guy will be satisfied that you're a real customer and leave you alone. Then you can return to your merriment.

Street of Heroes

2007-09-25T11:48:00.000-07:00

This post is not about the Heroes season premiere that aired last night, although it did raise some fascinating questions. (Like, what's Maya's power? Does Alejandro have a power too? Are they really brother and sister? What's up with that West kid? Is he a creepy stalker guy or does he just really like Claire? Because the whole hovering-outside-her-window thing would have been so much better if he had been holding a boom box that was playing "In Your Eyes." And why was Jess from Gilmore Girls [that is his full name, by the way] only in the last 2 minutes?)

No, I'm not going to write about that. I'm going to write about an idea that I had recently. Actually a few ideas. They're all for TV shows. I thought that with all the success of the Star Trek spin-offs (Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise. Not that I watch any of them... okay, fine, I watch Enterprise, but only to make fun of the theme song.) I would create one of my own and call it Star Trek: Miami. It takes place in the present day and it's about a group of retired NASA employees. Good, huh?

Another idea I had was for a show called Street of Heroes, hence the title of this post. That's the name of the street that the Tahoma National Cemetery is located on, and I was passing it one day and I thought, "Hey, wouldn't that be a cool title for a TV show?" So then I had to think of what the show would be about, and I think I came up with something really good.

So there's this fictional city, kind of an Anytown, USA type of place, in which the police department, the fire department and the hospital are all located on the same street, the "Street of Heroes." (When I told my brother about this idea, he said the courthouse should be on the street, too, but, come on, lawyers aren't heroes.) So the main characters would be a doctor, a cop and a firefighter. People love cops and doctors on TV, and they love firefighters on calenders, so this show would be great.

I also thought of having a coffee shop on the same street, where a lot of the show would take place. The cops would go there for donuts all the time and the doctors would go there for triple shots before their 36 hour shifts and one of the firefighters would go there all the time because he's in love with the barista. It could add a lot of atmosphere.

And this is the best part. I don't know if this would work exactly, but it would be really cool. The city where it takes place would be Gotham City! The hospital would be Wayne Memorial, and of course Gotham PD. So Batman would be in it sometimes but he wouldn't be the main character. And it would be really funny if the characters had issues like how silly it feels to write the word "Batman" in police reports. Plus it would combine some really popular TV genres right now: cop/doctor and comic book.

If I pitched this to a network (Street of Heroes [which I might change to Gotham: Street of Heroes], not Star Trek: Miami), I think I could have a pretty good chance of getting a pilot. Of course I'd have to write it, though. But that wouldn't be so bad. It will probably never happen, but if someone else gets an idea for a cop-doctor-firefighter-coffee shop-superhero drama and it gets made into a successful TV series, just remember: it was my idea first.

So was Star Trek: Miami.

Jane Austen is My Girl Crush

2007-08-16T12:39:00.000-07:00

Jane Austen is getting a lot of press these days. The Focus Features adaptation of Pride & Prejudice was released a couple of years ago, and now there is a new Austen biopic titled Becoming Jane. In the past month I've read articles in Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire and even Newsweek about the film and Austen's life and work. Not to say that she's not deserving, but I have to wonder, why all this attention for an author who lived 200 years ago, whose own work wasn't even attributed to her name during her lifetime?

I first caught the Austen bug about five years ago. I was fifteen and sick of Shakespeare (I'd had to read Macbeth in 8th grade, then Romeo and Juliet and Julius Caesar freshman year, then Hamlet as a sophomore; I've since discovered his comedies.) when a friend suggested I try P&P. I checked out the only copy in my school's library and read the whole thing from cover to cover in one sitting. My Austen appetite was awakened. Next I read Emma, then Northanger Abbey (still my favorite), then Persuasion, Mansfield Park and finally Sense and Sensibility.

Like all of Austen's devoted fans, I was disappointed that there weren't more. I mean, seriously, the woman lived for more than forty years and all she could crank out were six measly novels? So, I did what many readers have done after reaching the end of the Austen canon: I turned to the Brontes. It just wasn't the same, though. Jane Eyre had potential, but she had no sense of humor. So not Lizzy Bennet.

This was in 2002-3, between the Austen-mania of the mid-90's and the current re-discovery of (how come Austen doesn't have a cool nickname like "the Bard"?)'s work. The world was in an Austen famine. I was glad to discover the then-eight-year-old films of S&S, Emma, and Persuasion, and, of course, the BBC/A&E miniseries of P&P. But it just wasn't enough. (Northanger Abbey, my favorite Austen novel, maybe even my favorite novel, has yet to be translated into a satisfying theatrical release, though I've read that the BBC's recent made-for -TV version, which will air on Masterpiece Theatre in January of 2008, is good, and Wishbone did an entertaining adaptation in a 25-minute episode).

What is it about Austen that keeps us so fascinated? All her novels have the same plot, and a very simple, ordinary plot at that. Her world seems so small, a world in which girls must either marry or starve and all the men are either rakes, idiots, or that rare, perfect hero. No car chases, no explosions, but plenty of the difficulty of remembering complicated dance steps while simultaneously thinking of witty conversation. These novels are all talking and dancing and walking. And riding in carriages sometimes, and occasionally eating. But somehow, they draw you in, and they have for nearly 200 years.

Of all the elements of Austen's novels for which I could build up a sizable argument for being the cause of her appeal (the aforementioned witty conversation; the dancing, if you're into that; the social commentary; the sparkling manners), the one that stands out most noticeably is her characters. Who hasn't rooted for the sarcastic-but-lovable Lizzy Bennet, the matchmaking Emma Woodhouse, or drama queen Marianne Dashwood? The supporting characters, both the villains and the eccentric foils, realistically flesh out the stories while adding just a hint of escapism.

And maybe that is the secret. Realistic escapism, if that's not an oxymoron. Austen had the ability to show the world as it was, only better and more interesting. To create characters and situations that are completely relatable, even today. We've all butted heads with a Caroline Bingley or secretly wanted to strangle a Mary Crawford. And no girl can deny that, at some point in her life, she has fantasized about marrying (or at least going to the movies with) Captain Wentworth or Henry Tilney. Because though the situations and characters in Austen's novels are strikingly similar to something you find in real life, the endings are always of the fairy-tale (Disney, not the Grimm brothers) variety.

It is the perfect combination of realism and fantasy, of wit and wisdom, of slight intrigue and traditional manners that give Austen's works their staggering genius. They have lasted for nearly 200 years and are likely to last twice as long again, and to continue to make glad the heart of womanhood.

What to do in a horror movie

2007-05-11T15:35:00.000-07:00

If you should ever find yourself in a horror movie, these are a few rules to follow that will help ensure your survival. Notice how I said "help ensure." If you are a character in a horror movie who is destined to die, like a promiscuous teenager or a lonely old lady, there's nothing you can do to stop it. Sorry.

1. Don't ever think that it's safe. It's most likely very unsafe.

2. Never find the perfect house. The perfect house is haunted. Always.

3. If you're driving on the freeway, don't take any "short-cuts," no matter what the guy at the gas station said. Also, don't pick up any hitchhikers.

4. If there's a little kid telling you what to do, listen! The kid always knows.

5. That person limping toward you with a crazed look in their eyes and blood dripping down their chin does not want medical attention. They want to eat your brain. Run.

6. If you find yourself in a small town that has a secret, leave immediately.

7. To find out how to avoid disaster, ask the town outcast/ geeky loner. The charismatic cop/ military officer has no idea what he's talking about.

8. Abandoned warehouses/ hospitals/ museums/ schools/ libraries/ mansions/ cabins in the woods/ military bases/ hotels/ churches are abandoned for a reason. You don't want to find out what that reason is.

9. If you are the comic relief/ protagonist's best friend, you will die. There's no avoiding it. You have a slightly better chance of survival if you are the protagonist's love interest (as long as you never say, "I'll be right back"), but don't count on it.

10. Dancing only scares zombies away in Michael Jackson videos. If you are in a Michael Jackson video, dance your heart out. If not, you'd better have a baseball bat. Hit the zombies in the head with it.

I have to admit, I had help coming up with these. My brother Keith, whose blog I have linked, aided me in their creation. Numbers 9 and 10 are totally my own, though. Also, I don't watch a lot of horror movies, mostly because there are so many stupid ones out there and you can never tell which few will be good, so this list may be incomplete. It is open for suggestions.

What Would Cowper Do?

2007-03-01T15:56:00.000-08:00

William Cowper was an 18th century Calvinist poet, which is, surprisingly, not an oxymoron. (That's him on the right; what a fox, huh?) Calvinists believe in predestination, which I know all of my readers know, since both of you are very well-educated. They essentially believe in fate, that our final destination in the afterlife is already decided, has been decided since long before our births, and there's nothing we can do to change it. It must be this way, since God is all-knowing, all-powerful; He controls the future. Free will is an illusion, in a Calvinist view. We can not ultimately control our own lives, and it is pointless to try, since nothing we do on this earth will affect where we spend eternity.

William Cowper believed that he was predestined for Hell. He was convinced in his soul that he would spend eternity separated, alienated, completely cut-off from God. If such a conviction lodged itself in my heart I really don't think I could go on living. Maybe I would stay physically alive, put off the inevitable as long as possible, but I would have no hope. I would curse God for creating me and giving me a small glimpse of His glory, only to snatch it away with no possibility of restoration, no promise of its fulfillment in me. For creating me only to destroy me.

But that's not what William Cowper did. Instead he wrote this:

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face...

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

How could a man so persuaded of his own eternal damnation be so trusting, so favorable toward the very God who, he believed, was responsible for his fate? His answer was simple: we can not understand the ways of God, who is Creator, and therefore Master, of the universe. All things were created for His glory, for His purposes, and He will use them as such. He has the "right," to put it into Democratic-minded American terms. Our lives are not our own and our eternal fates are not our own; they are God's, and He will do with them as He pleases.

Cowper (and by default, Calvin) had a point. God is all-powerful, and He does not have to give us free will. But I would ask them both this question: if God wanted to decide for us where we would spend eternity, why did He pay such a high price for our souls? Nothing is impossible for Him. He didn't have to die. He could have "over-ridden the system," and made it so that all people, no matter their choices in life or opinion of Him, would go to Heaven.

And why didn't He?

He loves us. God wants everyone to come to know Him and love Him. But even more than He desires this, He desires that we choose Him, which is why He will not force our destiny upon us. He can not ravish; He can only woo. If we had no choice but to love Him, we would not love Him in the truest sense. If we were going to end up in Heaven, no matter what we did or what choices we made, there would be no reward in it. And God's glory would not be fulfilled, since it would, in a sense, be only self-love. But God is perfect, and therefore self-less, and the most selfless thing that a perfect Being could do would be to create other beings to love Him of their own free will.

Heaven is our, everyone's, destiny, but it is not our destination unless we choose it. A better term than predestination would be predestiny.

If William Cowper had not believed that he was predestined for Hell, how would his life have been changed? If he had known that his choice to follow and understand God would lead him to an eternity with the Love of his life, would he still have written about frowning Providence and blind unbelief? Or would his pen have turned to other subjects? We may never know, but maybe I can ask him in Heaven.

What? An Action Movie with Good Acting?

2007-02-11T15:03:00.001-08:00

I have a very interesting system for rating the quality of movies. I have eight categories of criteria, each with a 5-point grading system, for a possible total score of 40. The criteria are plot; dialogue; characters; acting; music; scenery and costumes; humor; and cute boys. Bonus points can be assigned for good special effects and/ or action sequences, but many movies with these are severely lacking in plot, dialogue, characters and acting (although they usually have cute boys), which are more important, so they are not required. Here is a list of movies that score above 30 on my ranking system, in alphabetical order:

About a Boy (The novel is good, too.)
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
The Bourne Identity (What? An action movie with good acting?)
The Brothers Grimm (Matt Damon and Heath Ledger in the same movie? In boots? With accents?)
Casablanca (Actually, not really, but it's on every other movie list, so I put it on here just for fun. I've actually never seen the whole thing. I always fall asleep half-way through.)
A Christmas Story
Clueless *Best Jane Austen modernization
Elf
Elizabethtown
Gone With the Wind ("After all, tomorrow is another day!")
A Knight's Tale
Little Women
Napoleon Dynamite *Winner of the Rhonda Watts "Huh?" Award
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
Pride and Prejudice *Best musical score ever!
The Princess Bride
Roman Holiday
School of Rock
Scotland PA *Best Shakespeare modernization
Shaun of the Dead (Any movie that is self-described as, "a smash hit romantic comedy... with zombies," has to be good!)
Sixteen Candles ("What's cookin' hot stuff?")
Sliding Doors *Best sci-fi chick-flick (Gwenyth Paltrow in two alternate realities?)
Some Like It Hot *Best cross-dressing movie
Stuck On You *Best conjoined twins movie
The Taming of the Shrew
Vanity Fair (I have to admit, I kind of had a girl-crush on Reese Witherspoon after seeing this. She's such a talented actress that you hate her and love her at the same time.)
The Village *Best psychological thriller
Young Frankenstein *Best parody of a Mary Shelley novel
Zoolander *Best movie about male models

So that's my list. There are lots of other movies that I love that didn't make it on the list because this is just based on my ranking system. Maybe there's a movie on here you haven't seen before that you want to go rent now. So stop reading this and go!

What I Wish I Could Tell You

2007-01-21T18:35:00.000-08:00

Recently this guy named Bruce N. Shortt released this book titled The Harsh Truth About Public Schools. It's kind of a catchy title, so I read the first chapter. Now, I'll be the first to tell you, public schools are definitely not perfect. They are not healthy places. But it seems to me that this should not be a reason to shun them or look down on us public school-educated people. It should be a reason to have compassion for them.

Advocates of homeschooling have based their views on the undeniable presence of evil in public schools. Drugs, violence, sex, secular humanist propaganda, moral ambiguity, they're all there. I know, I've observed it first-hand. But instead of focusing on the evils of public schools and alienating 99% of the population, shouldn't we be reaching out to kids in public schools with the message of Jesus? Kids who, if not for other public school kids who are Christians, would never hear the Truth of the Gospel?

Many worry that Christian kids will be sucked in to the secular world if they are exposed to public schooling, but that is why parents must give their kids a firm foundation in the Faith. A child's first and most deeply rooted educational experience comes from their parents and stays with them for the rest of their lives. If this experience is based on the Word of God and if parents continue to instill Christian values in their children as they go through school, kids will know right from wrong, and be able to choose the right, even if the world is against them. Their greatest influence should come not from the world around them but from the One who lives inside of them.

Greater is He who is in me than he that is in the world.

Parents cannot make their kids be Christians. Kids must choose it for themselves. But if all they ever see or know is a "safe" little bubble their parents created for them, it's not a real decision. If Adam and Eve hadn't had the choice to sin, they wouldn't have sinned, but their obedience would have no meaning. Forced obedience is not true obedience, and it is not fulfilling.

So, what do we do about the harsh truth of public schools? The answer is not taking our Christian kids out of public schools. Kids in public schools need to see Christian kids living out their relationship with God now more than ever. How else will they learn the Truth in such a worldly place? The answer is to equip our Christian kids with the ability to impact their public schools for Christ.

Thoughts on Falling Snow

2006-12-02T14:47:00.000-08:00

I wanted to write a poem about snow
But the words would float in my head like so
And when they would settle, only melted away
And now I'm left with nothing to say

Words to a poem I've not written but sought
Falling in some semblance of intelligible thought
Thought without words, words without thought
Those are the two ways of writing a poem,
--whether you use words or not

And as a snowflake falls as a whisper
To melt upon touching the ground
My words have dissembled, and I find that there
Is no worthy thought to be found

What I Want for Christmas

2006-11-28T12:14:00.001-08:00

What I want for Christmas is a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass and a stock and this thing which tells time. They're very good for Christmas. I don't think a football is a very good Christmas present. Besides that, here are some other things I wouldn't mind finding under my tree:

DVD's
Gilmore Girls- any season
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
Sixteen Candles
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
White Christmas
Sliding Doors
Lady in the Water
Roman Holiday
Braveheart

CD's
The Beautiful Sessions- Bethany Dillon
Unexpected Gifts- Various Artists
Get Lifted- John Legend
Strange and Beautiful- Aqualung
Nothing is Sound- Switchfoot

Gift Cards
Old Navy
Kohl's
Target
Bath and Body Works
Payless
Borders
Barnes and Noble
Regal
AMC
Hollywood

Random
laptop
Low top Converse All-Stars- red or pink; men's size 6
2007 Dodge Charger- also red or pink

My Mom

2006-11-01T11:42:00.000-08:00

When I was little it was easy. "She's my mom," was all I'd say. Everyone knew what that meant, what the title "mom" entailed, at least in my mind. Everyone knew that moms make you macaroni and cheese and tuck you in at bedtime and tell you to settle down when you're being too noisy and they're on the phone. Everyone knew that moms read thick novels, "grown-up books," but will gladly put them aside to read you your favorite story, even though they've read it a thousand times before. And everyone knew that moms gave you hugs, that they would hold you when you were sad, or scared, or sleepy, or silly. Everyone knew that when your head rested under your mom's chin and she spoke to you, you felt rather than heard her voice, as acutely as you felt the soft cotton of a sundress or the rough wool of a turtleneck sweater rubbing against your cheek. I thought everyone knew this, because I did.

Now that I'm older, my mom is no different to me. No different, but somehow deeper, more. More to me because I have become her, in more ways than either of us realize. Her face, her smile, her voice all mirror my own, or do mine mirror hers? (At least I know I'm not adopted.) The same full mouth, the same second toe slightly longer than the first, the same stack of thick novels by our nightstands. Our sky-blue eyes and rounded cheeks make photos of us at the same age inter-changeable. If we stood on either side of you and sang you would hear one voice in stereo. See one face in two places.

And someday, when I have a child pressed to my heart, when I have put aside my thick novel to read to her, or when she is sad, or silly, or scared, and I speak to her, she will feel, rather than hear, the same voice that I did: my mother's, and mine, and, someday, her own.

Nebuchadnezzer and a Giraffe

2006-10-22T14:43:00.000-07:00

Well, this is different for me. When I blog I usually write it down on paper first, but I'm not this time. This is totally spontaneous. What you, my readers (all 3 of you), are reading right now is completely and totally off the cuff. I'm just wingin' it. Let's see what I come up with.

Do you ever have one of those dreams where you wake up from it and you're just like, "WHAT?" Or the dream just seems so real and you wake up so slowly that it overlaps with waking life, and you find yourself worrying about a problem you had in the dream, like where you're going to find a sweater for your giraffe, while you're in the shower the next morning. Then, while you're brushing your teeth, it slowly dawns on you: giraffes don't wear sweaters.

I think dreams are fascinating. I've always wondered if dreams really do have symbolic meaning, or if they're just a collection of random images and ideas that you've collected throughout the day and that somehow assemble into a coherent, or not-so-coherent, story. Or stories. With subplots and commercial breaks. Even musical numbers.

I think dreams could be symbolic, or at least representative, of our own personalities and lives, because they come from our own minds. If you're really worried about, say, an important exam you have tomorrow, you might dream that you're worried about something else, like where you're going to find a sweater for your giraffe, that is symbolic of the real problem you're facing. I also think it's possible that dreams are just completely random.

I don't dream as much as I used to when I was little. Or, at least, I don't remember as many dreams. I had some pretty crazy dreams between the ages of about six and eleven. Probably the weirdest one, and the scariest one for, like, three years after I had it, was about a gorilla. Two gorillas, actually. They were chasing me around my old church. Well, one was chasing me. He was the bad gorilla. But the other one was the good gorilla, and he was trying to help me get away from the bad gorilla. I don't remember exact details, only that I woke up crying and had to go to the bathroom really bad afterward.

If dreams are symbolic, I wonder what the gorillas symbolize? Probably, like, fear or something...

I also always thought it would be really cool to have prophetic dreams, like King Nebuchadnezzer. I have no idea if I spelled that right. Like the one he had about the statue that got smashed by the rock. Or like John in Revelation. I guess that was more of a vision than a dream. Also, Nebuchadnezzer had the coolest name in the Bible, probably. When I was little I had this book about him called The Braggy King of Babylon. In kindergarten I was the only kid in my class who knew about the Babylonian Empire, and the only kid who could pronounce the name Nebuchadnezzer, even though I couldn't spell it.

Whether or dreams are symbolic or just random, I think they serve a purpose. Dreams give you a sort of alternate reality, a fantasy world of your own mind's making to entertain you while you sleep and give you something to talk about in your Psychology class. Or at a party or whatever. And your sleeping dreams can often inspire your waking dreams, your life dreams. At least they have for me. I want to someday raise gorillas and start a line of sweaters for giraffes.

I Hadn't Written a Poem in Awhile

2006-10-20T12:26:00.000-07:00

All creatures of the sea and land
Each blade of grass and drop of rain
Formed by the Eternal Hand
Join their praises of Thy Name
The stars in language Man knows not
And every wave of every sea
Each leaf of trees Thine hand hath wrought
Are given to Thy symphony
There is no thing in Heaven or on Earth
That Thou hast not created in Thy love
My life, my death, indeed my very birth
By Thou ordained before e'er spoken of
Though with eyes filled of all Thy pow'rs employ
Thy love for me remains my greatest joy

Why Words Matter

2006-09-14T22:19:00.000-07:00

No one writes these days. I mean really writes. E-mails and My Space comments don't count. Sure, authors and reporters write, but that's only for money. No one ever writes anything personal or private, person to person anymore. No one writes letters. They are a lost art. And I think it's because of this that our grammar has gone to pot and no one can spell. Well, I take that back. Most people can spell, if they would just take a little more time, if they would actually care.

Our society and modern technology have made it unnecessary, really, almost impossible, for people to take their time in expressing themselves in writing. With the advent of text messaging, along with its own evolving sets of phrases and abbreviations, messages contain little or no punctuation and an unwritten (no pun intended), though by no means misunderstood, rule that Spelling Does Not Matter.

It wasn't always this way. A long, long time ago, before My Space and the internet, before texting and even before cell phones (can we even imagine such a time?) people who lived far away from their friends and family would have to wait days, even weeks or months, between messages. As a result, they took their time- time that they had more of, somehow, doesn't it seem?- in writing the messages. It was unthinkable to send a letter that contained any but the most minimal of grammar mistakes. If you were an intelligent, literate person your writing reflected it. Your words reflected it.

Words matter because they are our connections to other people, and those connections are what forge our relationships. The written word is one of Man's greatest accomplishments and one of God's greatest gifts. It should be treated with respect, as our words, both written and spoken, are part of how we present ourselves and, in consequence, how much we respect and care for those to whom we address them.

Surprised By Love

2006-09-03T15:22:00.000-07:00

I don't think I've ever doubted that God loves me. Even at my worst, when I was just a total little brat. I guess maybe I could be considered a little over-confident. My mindset was always, "Of course God loves me. Why wouldn't He?" What I've mostly doubted is whether I love Him.

It's interesting that I've been thinking about this lately, because I've been reading C. S. Lewis's autobiography, Surprised By Joy, of which Anne Fremantle said: "Since Augustine's meticulous analysis of what was the light, what the color, what the sound, the smell, the touch, what, indeed, was the good he loved when he loved God, few writers have taken the trouble to distinguish, with such clarity of psychological insight, the nature and degree of attraction, the nature and degrees of satisfaction apprehended by man." I say interesting because, though I haven't read very much Augustine, and my thoughts have been anything but meticulous, clear, or insightful, I, too, even before reading this book, have tried to examine what it is, why it is that I love God. What am I loving when I love Him? Am I really loving Him at all? This is what I came up with.

I love God because I love the mountains. I love Him because I love the sunset and the stars. I love Him because of the way the wind sings as it blows through the trees. I love Him because of flowers and birds and butterflies and smooth shiny stones on the bottom of the ocean floor. I love Him because of the rain that sparkles on a window pane and the quiet blanket of snow that covers a winter night. I love Him because of the mist that envelops the highest mountain, even on the warmest summer day. And music. I can't forget music. Or my family.

I love God because I see Him in the things that I love. I love Him because He loved me enough to give them to me, to show Himself to me in ways that I can understand, even if I don't comprehend. Isaac Newton believed that God is a rational God, that He reveals Himself in the perfect order of the laws of nature. But God is also a passionate God, One that reveals Himself in ways that no law can explain. Like love.

You can't imagine what a relief it was to find that I do love God, to find that everything that I love about His creation, the beauty, the order, and the freedom within that order, the depth and purity and brightness, is really what I love about Him. The God that I love both rationally and passionately is the author of the one thing that defies both reason and passion, that surpasses both faith and hope: love. Love is the weight and the balance; love is the root of the root, the sky of the sky, the wonder that's keeping the stars apart and the breath on my lips.

It is because of His love that I love Him.

Men in Tights... and Dresses

2006-08-15T12:26:00.000-07:00

Since maybe like the Middle Ages there's been different clothes for boys than for girls, and probably before that. This cannot be denied. Girls (a lot of girls, anyway) like to wear ruffles and sparkles and lace. Boys (most boys, anyway) don't. That's why it's so funny when boys wear girls' clothes.

Think about it. It's all throughout history. Look at movies and TV. The tough-guy male lead wearing a dress and looking awkward or indignant always gets a laugh. Whole plots, even, whole bases for movies' classification in the genre of comedy have hinged on the age-old, fool-proof gag of the male cross dressser.

For evidence I refer to Some Like it Hot, I Was a Male War Bride, Bosom Buddies, Tootsie, the more recent Sorority Boys. What is perhaps an addition to the comedic quality of these examples is that the characters in these films are not drag queens. They are truly trying to disguise themselves, to pass as women. Of course we, the genius audience, can clearly see that they most definitely are not women. But the other characters in the films seem not to see anything out of the ordinary about six-feet-tall, broad shouldered women with Adam's apples and five'o'clock shadows. Maybe that's where some of the comedy comes from: our secret, almost smug knowledge that these characters are completely ignorant of. But it's still really funny to see a guy in a dress.

Yet a girl dressed as a boy somehow doesn't have the same effect. There have been a few movies that feature female cross-dressers, but these are from a slightly different mold as those of the male cross-dressing variety. Boys Don't Cry is not a comedy. There is, of course, the recent example of She's the Man. Most of the comedy in this movie, though, arises not from the girl trying to look like a boy, but rather act like a boy.

Seeing a girl dressed as a boy is somehow not as funny as a boy dressed as a girl. Maybe it's because Shakespeare used it so much. He ruins everything. Of course, in his time, it would have been a boy dressed a girl dressed as a boy, which looks the same as a boy dressed as a boy, which isn't funny at all, unless the boy is funny looking.

The End of the Road (or, Theology To Go)

2006-08-02T14:15:00.000-07:00

June 19th, 2006
I set out from Kelly Latte's this afternoon with only the intention of going somewhere quiet to drink my mocha and be alone with God awhile. I thought of Lake Meridian, not thinking of the fact that it's a June afternoon and the possibility that God had other plans. He obviously did, because the lake was packed. I've never liked crowds. I drove once around the parking lot, then paused at the exit. Left or right? Right would take me back home, but something told me, "left."

I turned left onto Kent Kangley and as I drove through Covington it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was going. God did, though. "Follow that truck." I did.

The truck drove through the traffic of Covington and continued on toward Maple Valley and as I followed, God and I had a conversation. Well, mostly I asked Him where I was going and mostly He didn't tell me. "Just trust Me," He said.

"Fine!" I said, and drove on.

A melting pot of emotions and thoughts I've expressed to God time and again in the past, though never all at the same time, came rushing in and I began asking Him where I was going again, though this time not literally.

Again He said, "Just trust Me."

Then it got philosophical. "I know I should trust You, God, I know it makes sense and really when you think about it, following You and giving You everything is the smart thing to do and I always try to do the smart thing and You know that because You made me this way and I want to believe that I can completely give up everything to You and that You're the only reason for living and that I shouldn't follow my heart but Yours, but really, my heart should be Your heart, and I know all of this. I know it. I don't need proof because it's right here in front of my eyes. What I need is faith, because even though I know all of this, I just can't quite seem to believe it." All this I intimated to God in a jumble of words and half-finished phrases and in about five seconds. Isn't that funny, how our words can make no sense at all, yet God knows exactly what we mean?

God said, "Just keep driving." I did.

Then I passed the Mormon church at Four Corners and I said, "What's their deal, God?"

"They don't even know," He answered. "They're confused. They have faith and works all jumbled up and they don't realize that salvation is already theirs. They're making it impossible for themselves, not realizing that with Me, all things are possible. Kind of like what you're doing right now."

Well! Just tell it like it is! Thankfully, I was stopped at a red light at that point. The light turned green and I eased slowly on the gas pedal, going through the intersection in spiritual silence for a few minutes before the words of a song on the radio broke through my reverie: "Let go, let go, just jump in..."

Merely curious this time, I again asked God where I was going. "Just keep driving," He said. "I want to show you something."

I was still following the truck. I was past Maple Valley now and in one of those little towns. Ravensdale, I think. The mountains rose up before me, green before summer's dry heat sets in, the tops shrouded in a mist of clouds perforated by beams of sunlight.

A new song was on the radio now. "It's a winding road... I still don't know where it goes... It's a long way home. I've been searching for a long time, but I still have hope... I'm gonna find my way home..."

"Is this what you wanted me to see?" I whispered, tears pooling in my eyelashes.
"Yes..."

For some reason I burst out laughing. "This is beautiful, God," still smiling, at peace for a moment.

Then, "Should I turn around and go home now?"

"Not yet."

"How will I know when it's time, when I've reached my destination?" In essence, "How will I know?"

"You'll know."

Frustrated, "How will I know? Will there be a sign or something?"

Again, "You'll know."

Sigh.

Five minutes later I saw a paper plate tacked to a signpost with one word on it: "DONE." I laughed, turned around and drove home.

August 2nd, 2006
Today I drove all the way to the end of that road. I drove though forests and hills and more little towns than I could count, twisting and turning like any good country road should. Then, there it was. The end of the road, just a gravel driveway leading up to a little blue house, and three kids jumping on a trampoline in the back yard. I wonder if they know that they live at the end of the road, or if they care. In knowing, would they gain anything?

I'd wondered for ages (okay, months) what was at the end of that road, and they had known all along and didn't care. I think we all find the same thing at the end of our road, no matter what we find. We want to know so bad, but when we find out...

"Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. The man who thinks he knows something does not yet know what he ought to know. But the man who loves God is known by God." - Paul of Tarsus

...we find we don't need to know everything.

"The Prince" and Me: Machiavelli in Shakespeare's "Henry V"

2006-08-01T22:28:00.000-07:00

This idea first came to me last fall while taking a course on Shakespeare at school. I had never read any of Shakespeare's histories before when my class was assigned to read Henry V, or "Henry five" as we ended up calling it. As we read the play, it struck me that King Henry, at least as portrayed by Shakespeare, was a Machiavellian ruler. Actually, I had no idea if this was a legitimate theory or not, since, of course, I'd never actually read Machiavelli, but I thought it sounded good, and if I could prove it that would be really cool. So I decided to read The Prince and here's what I came up with:

Henry V is about a young man coming into his role as a king and what he does to prove his right and capability as king. In the process, Henry illustrates several tactics for ruling proposed and explained by Niccolo Machiavelli in his treatise The Prince. Machiavelli's Prince is personified by King Henry. This personification is shown in Henry's decisions and actions thoroughout England's war with France.

From the beginning, Henry displays Machiavellian principles. His initial decision to go to war is partly due to the persuasion of his advisors: "Awake the rememberance of these valiant dead, / And with your puissant arm renew their feats!" This encouragement to revive the glorious war victories of his ancestors appeals to Henry because it will allow him to prove himself in war, something Machiavelli says a prince cannot rule without: "A prince... must have no other object or thought, or take up anything as his profession, except war and its rules and discipline, for that is the only art that befits one who commands." Triumph in war is the only way that Henry, or any prince, according to Machiavelli, can prove that he is a capable ruler, so he sets out to conquer France, claiming divine right to its crown and lands.

King Henry also illustrates Machiavelli's theories in his dealings with his army. In Act 4, scene 3, his rousing St. Crispian's Day speech shows that he has mastered the art of persuasion to gain his troops' support: "And Crispin Crispian shal ne'er go by, / From this day to the ending of the world, / But we in it shall be remembered." Promising immortality in the memory of humankind is a foolproof way to convince men to fight, even at the risk of their own lives. Machiavelli would approve: "Those princes have done great things... who have been able to confuse men's brains by cunning, and in the end, they have overcome those who made loyalty their foundation." By not mentioning the great risk his men are taking and instead glorifying war in his inspirational speech, confusing his men's brains, Henry has played upon his troops' loyalty in persuading them to fight, proving himself a Machiavellian ruler.

It's very possible that Shakespeare was familiar with Machiavelli's writing and intentionally formed Henry's character based on the work. He was very well-read. And if he did read it, he probably didn't think of the possibilty, as my brother has pointed out, of its being a satire, a joke, a fifteenth century episode of Punk'd, like Jonathan Swift's essay about how poor people should eat their babies (except I don't think Swift was in the fifteenth century). But, intentional or not, it's clear that Shakespeare's Henry reflects Machiavelli's Prince, in both word and deed, a resemblance which established Henry as a great leader and a great king.

12th Street Books

2006-07-30T15:12:00.000-07:00

The smell of aged paper
Like dust, but sweet
The scent of memory

The cloth on the spines
Red or green or blue, now faded
The crumbling bindings

The sound of old music
-Is it Mozart, or Vivaldi?-
And sneakers on the hollow wood floor

The ghosts that dwell here never lived
Except in the dreams of their creators
And minds of their readers

This is the place
Where Imagination
Becomes real

Unscented Perfume

2006-07-30T14:51:00.000-07:00

So, here's the deal. I really do believe that it's God's grace that saves us. I have to believe that because it's impossible to be saved by works, to earn our salvation. How can we do His will without His blessing? How can we obey His command without His Spirit? I have to believe that it's grace that saves, that sets us free, because if it's not, then I'm not free. My belief in God is as much out of necessity as conviction. But really, whose intuition will tell them anything but that they have to work for what they want? Of course, God does not grant all our desires; He changes them. I know that I needed to know that I believed in grace before I could speak of it to other people. I know that I have a choice in my belief, but who would choose death over life, eternal bondage over eternal freedom? And if I love God only because He loves me, there's nothing wrong with that, because I couldn't love Him at all if it weren't for His love, which is by His grace. I am as much His by His right as by my choice. Nothing I have is my own, but I rejoice that, though I am unworthy, His love gives me all that I need. After all, it wouldn't be grace if we deserved it.

My first blog

2006-07-30T14:08:00.000-07:00

To all my readers:
I am a Christian, a student, a library page and an aspiring writer. Some topics I write on are God, my classes at school, literature (mostly random thoughts on stuff I've read, but some legit), music and my future goals, which I haven't exactly figures out yet. Any fiction I write is open to suggestions, especially as I serialize stories and need to think of what will happen next. I hope you enjoy Watts Up with Rhonda.