Here's what I'll be up to for the rest of this week and through the weekend. I know, I know...you're either jealous or you're one of the people who invited me.
Happy New Year, everyone! I'll be seeing some of you before the year is out!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
All the good men
Where have all the good men gone
and where are all the gods
Where's the streetwise Hercules
to fight the rising odds
Isn't there a white knight
upon a fiery steed
Late at night I toss and turn
and dream of what I need
I need a hero
In Save the Males, Kathleen Parker argues that women are largely to blame for the scarcity of good men. Feminism started out as a protest that women are able to do many things men do, and somehow morphed into the decree that they could always do them better—"the best man for the job is a woman," as the slogan on Lois Lane's coffee mug reads in Lois & Clark.
I'm appreciating the book so far. I can't say I'm enjoying it because it paints a grim picture of the state of men in Western culture. Males have been portrayed as abusive, as stupid, as inattentive. Small boys are too rowdy, too jittery. Adult men are too obsessed with video games, too incapable of real relationships. While this might allow the other half of the species a bit of a self-esteem rush, it's also true that, for any woman paying proper attention, such a rush must be followed with a rapid descent into melancholy.
Where have all the good men gone? Is it possible that women have helped to chase them into hiding, at the very least?
To be honest, between the lines of this book I read my own culpability. I have done my share of big talking about how much smarter/more sensitive/easier to relate to women are. Of course they are often easier to relate to. They tend to think more like I do. But we weren't made to be entirely surrounded with people like ourselves. We were made to be stretched by difference.
When Adam needed a companion, God didn't bring him a drinking buddy, he brought him a wife. In this time before sin, difference was seen as marvelous, not threatening. I find it interesting that the original sin involved woman rushing ahead to do things on her own and man sitting back passively. How often throughout history has that pattern been repeated? How often have we mourned the lack of proper, godly male leadership?
I miss male companionship. I miss it like crazy. My best friend while I was growing up was my brother, and I got along wonderfully with my father, my grandfathers, my male cousins. At college, I lived in community with men and women alike, a community that wasn't affected nearly as much by the acquisition of boyfriends or girlfriends as my later life has been. Now, I live in an increasingly Amazonian world. Most of my co-workers are female. No male family members live nearby. And it has been my experience that in a non-communal setting, male friends tend to fade away after they acquire girlfriends, and virtually disappear once the girlfriends become wives.
I, like Lois Lane, tend to retreat to the rather sour grapes position that men are unneeded, and that there are no heroes left. But that's all cover. Really, I believe in capable Supermen and classy Clark Kents (again, we're talking Lois & Clark, not Smallville).
From the sparks I've seen in so many males of my acquaintance, right down to the very young, there is vast potential out there for males to rise to what they were meant to be. To them I have two things I want to say: Don't underestimate your power to encourage the other half of the species. And thank you.
and where are all the gods
Where's the streetwise Hercules
to fight the rising odds
Isn't there a white knight
upon a fiery steed
Late at night I toss and turn
and dream of what I need
I need a hero
In Save the Males, Kathleen Parker argues that women are largely to blame for the scarcity of good men. Feminism started out as a protest that women are able to do many things men do, and somehow morphed into the decree that they could always do them better—"the best man for the job is a woman," as the slogan on Lois Lane's coffee mug reads in Lois & Clark.
I'm appreciating the book so far. I can't say I'm enjoying it because it paints a grim picture of the state of men in Western culture. Males have been portrayed as abusive, as stupid, as inattentive. Small boys are too rowdy, too jittery. Adult men are too obsessed with video games, too incapable of real relationships. While this might allow the other half of the species a bit of a self-esteem rush, it's also true that, for any woman paying proper attention, such a rush must be followed with a rapid descent into melancholy.
Where have all the good men gone? Is it possible that women have helped to chase them into hiding, at the very least?
To be honest, between the lines of this book I read my own culpability. I have done my share of big talking about how much smarter/more sensitive/easier to relate to women are. Of course they are often easier to relate to. They tend to think more like I do. But we weren't made to be entirely surrounded with people like ourselves. We were made to be stretched by difference.
When Adam needed a companion, God didn't bring him a drinking buddy, he brought him a wife. In this time before sin, difference was seen as marvelous, not threatening. I find it interesting that the original sin involved woman rushing ahead to do things on her own and man sitting back passively. How often throughout history has that pattern been repeated? How often have we mourned the lack of proper, godly male leadership?
I miss male companionship. I miss it like crazy. My best friend while I was growing up was my brother, and I got along wonderfully with my father, my grandfathers, my male cousins. At college, I lived in community with men and women alike, a community that wasn't affected nearly as much by the acquisition of boyfriends or girlfriends as my later life has been. Now, I live in an increasingly Amazonian world. Most of my co-workers are female. No male family members live nearby. And it has been my experience that in a non-communal setting, male friends tend to fade away after they acquire girlfriends, and virtually disappear once the girlfriends become wives.
I, like Lois Lane, tend to retreat to the rather sour grapes position that men are unneeded, and that there are no heroes left. But that's all cover. Really, I believe in capable Supermen and classy Clark Kents (again, we're talking Lois & Clark, not Smallville).
From the sparks I've seen in so many males of my acquaintance, right down to the very young, there is vast potential out there for males to rise to what they were meant to be. To them I have two things I want to say: Don't underestimate your power to encourage the other half of the species. And thank you.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Snowy Sundays
It has been happening once or twice a winter: my church cancels all services due to weather-related trifles like blizzards. Then I have the whole day open, and I don't quite know what to do with myself. You might think it would just feel like an extra Saturday, but it doesn't, and here are the five main reasons why.
1) The rhythm of the weekend is upset if church is cancelled. Usually, it goes: day at work, day running errands and visiting friends, day at church. And usually, by the time I receive notice that church has been cancelled, I am almost ready to leave, and thus not feeling like going back to bed immediately.
2) If church is cancelled, it feels like a serious road situation. I am almost constitutionally obligated not to leave the apartment. (I'm not sure what constitution I'm talking about here.)
3) If I don't leave the apartment, I have a whole day at home, which is rare. And while I may do a few things here and there on a Sunday, chore-wise, I don't make a concerted effort to work like I would on a Saturday. I do any cleaning, organizing, etc. in a consciously more relaxed mode than usual.
4) If I have a whole day at home, I don't see another human being unless one comes to me for some reason, which is almost stranger than me seeing nobody, especially because....
5) If I don't plan to see another human being, I dress accordingly. Today, for instance, I'm wearing sweatpants and a baggy shirt, and my hair is up in loose French braids. Totally casual and very comfortable.
Today I listened to a few sermons online, and I trimmed Apollo's nails and his flight feathers, and I ironed, and I organized my bathroom closet a bit better, and I did a bit of communication on the subject of the youth group banquet, and I have been and am watching the two Anne of Green Gables movies that I own. I missed being with my church family, especially since I'll be out of town for a few weeks now for the holidays, but it has certainly been a restfully productive day.
Every once in a while, I like being forced to slow down.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Gift Games
I am extraordinarily competitive. I'll repeat it for emphasis: extraordinarily competitive. For many years, I avoided any game I didn't have a good shot at winning, because persistent not-winning would make me very unpleasant to be around.
This competitive tendency has been reined in quite a bit, but it still bleeds out from time to time. The unfortunate thing is that it isn't something that confines itself to games. I'm competitive about life.
One year, I bought my brother the game Guess Who? for his birthday. It was on his list, and something I knew he really liked. Then my parents brought out their gift: a Batcave playset for his action figures. Guess what? The game was all but forgotten. This was probably more than fifteen years ago, but I still remember the rush of anger and frustration I felt at being upstaged. My gift was not the coolest, which meant I was not the coolest. I vowed never to let that happen again.
Fast forward to present day. I have practically zero imagination for gifts. I can buy off a list, no problem. I (sometimes) see something in a store and think of someone, sure. But if it comes down to "it's Christmas/my friend's birthday/some other special event, and it is time to buy her/him a present"? PRESSURE.
Because when I buy a gift, I like it to be something that's an in-joke, or something that strongly reminds me of someone, and sometimes I sit around and nothing in particular comes to mind, and I brand myself as a horrible friend because I don't know the person well enough to come up with something immediately. Or what if I buy a gift and it's cute and everything, but my friend is thinking, "Wow, I'm worth $10 to her and she's worth $20 to me. I wish I would have donated that extra $10 to charity"? And sometimes I just think, "Personally, I feel I have a lot of junk lying around already. I don't want to add to their pile of junk."
I love my friends. I do. But mostly, in lieu of gifts, I'd rather we just sat around in a room for a couple hours. Yeah, it's what my friends and I usually do, but I just like sitting with them. Doing nothing. Requiring nothing. Being together.
But what if, at least for Christmas and birthdays and other special events, my friend would rather have a new book or DVD or scented candle or something mysterious that I haven't figured out than spend a few hours sitting in the same room with me? What if I'm not a happy-sitting-around level friend to them?
Gift-giving is a risky game.
The 99 Things Meme
Things I’ve done in bold.
Things I haven’t done but would like to do in italics.
Things I haven’t done and don't want to do in plain text.
1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars. (I sleep under the stars every night. Do some of you sleep above them?)
3. Played in a band — or musical.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity. (What's the definition of "more than you can afford," anyway?)
7. Been to Disneyland. (I went to Disney World.)
Things I haven’t done but would like to do in italics.
Things I haven’t done and don't want to do in plain text.
1. Started your own blog.
2. Slept under the stars. (I sleep under the stars every night. Do some of you sleep above them?)
3. Played in a band — or musical.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity. (What's the definition of "more than you can afford," anyway?)
7. Been to Disneyland. (I went to Disney World.)
8. Climbed a mountain.
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitchhiked. (With my dad, because we ran out of gas.)
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort. (And had it collapse on me.)
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a Marathon.
28. Ridden a Gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run.
32. Been on a cruise.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.
35. Seen an Amish community.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied. (I'm satisfied with what I have, but the satisfaction isn't really monetarily rooted.)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.
39. Gone rock climbing. (Clambering up without gear on real rocks, with gear on indoor rocks. Still in pain sometimes from an incident on my last outing...I'm so hardcore/clumsy.)
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David.
41. Sung karaoke.
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance. (Yeah, this one is weird, I admit. And I don't want to pay for it or actually need to be in it, really...but I want to ride in one, absolutely.)
47. Had your portrait painted.
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. (I only went to the second floor, but wouldn't mind going to the third if I were there again.)
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud. (Yay, Calvin Mud Bowl!)
54. Gone to a drive-in theater.
55. Been in a movie.
56. Visited the Great Wall of China.
57. Started a business.
58. Taken a martial arts class.
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Gotten flowers for no reason. (From a co-worker's husband...and there WAS a reason, it was because his company had extra sitting around that he brought in for everybody at our office.)
64. Donated blood, platelets, or plasma.
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a check.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades. (I've been, but it wasn't exactly "touring.")
75. Been fired from a job. (More like "let go from a temp position," but still.)
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London.
77. Broken a bone. (Mine, or someone else's? Haha, just kidding...neither.)
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.
85. Read the entire Bible.
86. Visited the White House. (As in saw it from outside.)
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox.
89. Saaaaaved someone’s life. (I added those extra vowels.)
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous.
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Had a baby. (Would I like to have children someday? Yes. Would I like to have one biologically? I don't think so.)
95. Seen the Alamo in person. (I may actually have done this...if so, it was when I was really little. I don't quite remember.)
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
9. Held a praying mantis.
10. Sang a solo.
11. Bungee jumped.
12. Visited Paris.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.
15. Adopted a child.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty.
18. Grown your own vegetables.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitchhiked. (With my dad, because we ran out of gas.)
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort. (And had it collapse on me.)
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a Marathon.
28. Ridden a Gondola in Venice.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset.
31. Hit a home run.
32. Been on a cruise.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors.
35. Seen an Amish community.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied. (I'm satisfied with what I have, but the satisfaction isn't really monetarily rooted.)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person.
39. Gone rock climbing. (Clambering up without gear on real rocks, with gear on indoor rocks. Still in pain sometimes from an incident on my last outing...I'm so hardcore/clumsy.)
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David.
41. Sung karaoke.
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance. (Yeah, this one is weird, I admit. And I don't want to pay for it or actually need to be in it, really...but I want to ride in one, absolutely.)
47. Had your portrait painted.
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. (I only went to the second floor, but wouldn't mind going to the third if I were there again.)
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud. (Yay, Calvin Mud Bowl!)
54. Gone to a drive-in theater.
55. Been in a movie.
56. Visited the Great Wall of China.
57. Started a business.
58. Taken a martial arts class.
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies.
62. Gone whale watching.
63. Gotten flowers for no reason. (From a co-worker's husband...and there WAS a reason, it was because his company had extra sitting around that he brought in for everybody at our office.)
64. Donated blood, platelets, or plasma.
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a check.
68. Flown in a helicopter.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial.
71. Eaten Caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square.
74. Toured the Everglades. (I've been, but it wasn't exactly "touring.")
75. Been fired from a job. (More like "let go from a temp position," but still.)
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London.
77. Broken a bone. (Mine, or someone else's? Haha, just kidding...neither.)
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper.
85. Read the entire Bible.
86. Visited the White House. (As in saw it from outside.)
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating.
88. Had chickenpox.
89. Saaaaaved someone’s life. (I added those extra vowels.)
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous.
92. Joined a book club.
93. Lost a loved one.
94. Had a baby. (Would I like to have children someday? Yes. Would I like to have one biologically? I don't think so.)
95. Seen the Alamo in person. (I may actually have done this...if so, it was when I was really little. I don't quite remember.)
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake.
97. Been involved in a law suit.
98. Owned a cell phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Public Tears (Wedding Post #3)
When I was a little girl, I would see my mother crying at the drop of a hat and something about it bothered me. I was not going to grow up and be that person. I was not going to cry in public, to let people see my feelings that swiftly. I was going to be strong.
It turned out, of course, that this was one of the things that irritated me so forcefully because I could sense something of myself in it. Still, I worked on not crying for a long time. I would rub my eyes surreptitiously at emotional scenes in movies. I would save whatever tears I had for whatever reason until I was behind closed doors. I would not cry much even when family members died...not in public, anyway. I had to be strong.
I am becoming increasingly convinced that nobody really needs us to be strong, or impressive, or even right. While those may all be good things in the proper context, what we really need, deeply and desperately, is honesty paired with love.
Honestly? Anyone who cares to look can probably see my emotions rippling just under my skin. Probably people would rather see me cry than experience me lashing out in frustrated self-protection. And letting myself cry in public is another way of acknowledging I rely on Someone beyond myself to protect me.
I cried a fair bit over the wedding weekend. Weddings are emotional at any time, and with it being a family wedding it was even more so. Then there was the fact that it was the most Christ-centered wedding service I've ever witnessed, and the beauty of it and the hope of it and the glory of it were so magnificent that tears of joy and of longing were the only appropriate response to what was resonating through my heart.
After the wedding, my mom said, "You were having a hard time up there."
"I was crying," I said. "But I wasn't having a hard time."
What we have a hard time with is dealing with tears. We want them to go away. We want to fix things, to make things "better." We want to pat people on the shoulder and give them pitying looks, which generally doesn't fix anything at all but may drive wounds further under the surface. It's up to God to dry every tear, not us. And not now. Here, now, our tears can sometimes be our sacrifices, sacrifices of gratitude, of contrition, of love. Don't try to stop that. Be there for people, but be careful not to confuse your discomfort with another person's, of stopping the flow of communion with God with a hastily proffered Kleenex. (I'm writing this to myself as well.)
I am weak, but it doesn't mean I am helpless. He is my help. And He is strong.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
"You'll just know." (Wedding Post #2)
My revelation on the way out to Metamora (see last post) was well timed, because I got a fair amount of sideways "it's okay you're not married and someday you might still be" comments over the weekend of the wedding. This is the sort of thing that happens when people start to think it's really not okay, or that maybe you think it's not okay. Kind of like how ever since the age of about 26, every birthday brings a few "you're still young yet" comments. I've never heard anybody say that to an 18-year-old.
A whole conversation on the merits of online dating sprung up in the room where some of the wedding party gathered while Jeremiah and Dorothy were in the receiving line. Again, it's the sort of conversation that comes up more frequently as I get older. But maybe I'm paranoid. Maybe it's just because online dating is becoming more prevalent. Maybe they're not trying to imply that I've got to get on this "singleness" problem right now in whatever way I can. In all fairness, they didn't come straight out and tell me to join eHarmony. "You'll be going along minding your own business," one of the bride's attendants said, "and all of sudden...you'll just know."
This must be something that only makes sense to the people who "just know." I have never understood it. And I mean never.
When I was a little girl playing Barbies, the Ken doll would propose and Barbie would say, "I'm going to need a week or two to think about it." Barbie understood that this was a major, life-changing decision, and not one to be taken lightly.
When Wonder Woman was choosing which superhero to marry (this is the sort of thing that happens when your little brother decides he doesn't want to play Barbies with you anymore...he puts up with you dragging typical little girl storylines across toy genres), she would hesitate: "With a mask, or without a mask?" Wonder Woman didn't believe in soulmates or One True Loves.
And this was before I ever encountered a real life couple who had "just known" and then had just changed their minds.
Probably what they mean, all these people who say "you'll just know," is that it is one of those moments of knowing that reinvents everything that came before it...one of those moments, like the experience of grace, that gives you a new perspective. One of those moments that makes the years of not knowing seem insignificant.
Come to think of it, I have known my share of those.
First Sight (in Retrospect)
he was funny-looking
shallow
dull-witted
she was obnoxious
abrasive
boring
they were uncaring
fawning
impossible
you were annoyed
isolationist
self-righteous
when suddenly
laughably
the victor began rewriting history
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
G.O.A.T. (or, Wedding Weekend Post #1)
(Oh, so much to post from last weekend! I decided to do it in installments instead of cramming everything into one post, so they'll be trickling through.)
I was feeling mopey on my way to my parents' house on Tuesday afternoon. My little brother would be getting married in a few days. I was nowhere close to getting married. Because nobody ever liked me. Because I wasn't as whatever as the other girls who got married. Whine, whine; angst, angst.
Way back when I was a kid I heard that humility was a virtue and I translated humility as "putting yourself down so nobody thinks you're good at anything." (I've said it before and I'll say it again: kids might not be hearing what you are actually trying to say.) For the past two decades or so I've tried the self-deprecating route. It's never made me feel better, and it's left me kind of confused. I think it's because you get confused when you lie to yourself.
Because, as I was singing along to my music and dancing in my car and in general being ridiculous, I felt a smile come onto my face and this little voice said, "Who are you kidding? You think you're amazing."
Let's be honest. I'm not dealing with a lack of self-esteem. I'm dealing with a perceived deficit in how much other people esteem me, because I think they should be crazy about me. Because I have mad writing skills and a quick wit and an intellect to rival the Sicilian's and a penchant for random references and nerd pride and, and, and...and I enjoy that. All of that.
Am I perfect? No. (Duh. Raise your hand if you've met somebody who's perfect and I'll raise my hand if I spot any liars.) But the Holy Spirit is working in me towards that goal. Do I want to turn from self-deprecation to wallow in utter conceit, or use "it's who I am" as a shield of pride to ward off needed changes? No. But I don't want to be somebody else. I do want to make the most of who I am. To dig down to the core of the uniqueness that is me and shine it up to the glory of God, who made each one of us unique. Each one of us has something a little different to bring, and I want to bring what I have.
In thinking about how people might not like me for whatever reason, I realized that I'm not even really mopey about that. Mostly I'm just frustrated when other people don't show a willingness to fight to love me like I fight to love them (not that it's always a fight, but sometimes it is).
As for how all that relates to the bit about me not being married, well....
They had a bouquet toss at the wedding reception. My cousin and I got up and stood in the back. When we returned to our seats, our grandmother joked, "You didn't even try!"
I replied, "I have self-respect. I don't jump for flowers...somebody needs to come and hand them to me."
Granted, I'm probably very intimidating to anybody interested in trying.
I enjoy that bit, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)