Utilitarian?

What kind of ethics do you call it when a co-worker says that we should pull all the soldiers out of Iraq so they can shoot down the illegal immigrants from Mexico? I don't do well with these kinds of confrontations, and it seems like I can never get the answer right. I'm either a liberal commie or an ignorant conservative, depending on who I'm with. But when I'm at the hardware store I get to play the liberal commie role. I tried to explain to this guy that I didn't think illegal immigration warranted taking a human life. "You voted for him, didn't you!?" was his response. I told him, truthfully, that no, I didn't vote for Obama, but I'm guessing he doesn't believe me. Because I said I didn't think it was a good idea to shoot people, in general, and that I had some compassion for the people coming over the border.

It's unfortunate that the Republican ideology gets wrapped up in such extremism so much of the time, because these guys DO have a legitimate point of view. I mean, it's not like illegal immigration is a great thing. Much of the time it is mixed up in drug trafficking and general crime. These aren't always the cute little sob stories about the janitor who came here to support his or her family back home and oh why can't we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya? And you have to understand the frustration that blue collar workers often feel about taxes that support a welfare system that can and does benefit people who aren't paying taxes or people in the state penitentiaries.

But honestly? Shooting people? He was completely serious. Kind of like the lady at my church who wanted to blow up abortion clinics. It's times like these that I can be pretty ashamed of where I come from, and that I can see why so many of my liberal friends think conservatives are clinically insane.

I don't even know where I'm going with this. I just needed some therapy. I steered the conversation to the fact that if you were going to get that bent out of shape over it, you might as well shoot the employers who hire illegal immigrants too. Then I think I went on some sort of human rights rant while a customer that came in stared at me. It was awkward. Then my supervisor came in and bashed the welfare state system, which comes from I think the understanding that this is AMERICA baby and you work for what you get. Which is kind of the principle of the Republican party and capitalism when you think about it, which is probably partially why the Republican party is seen as the party of the rich (or the rural ignorants). They have theirs.

Ach, politics wear me out, as does ethics and trying to assert that it's not all relative and that morality really matters etc. I guess I just don't like conflict. "Wishy-washy." Yep. That's me. But I feel like I should get some grace. Blame it on my youth. But I REALLY tried to stick to my guns today and I STILL got called wishy-washy. Maybe I just try too hard to persuade people and it leaves me shifting around too much. And there's always the knowledge that I don't have all the answers, am probably misinformed on many topics, not knowledgeable in any case, and beyond all that I'm still a fallen human being and subject to blindness because of it. So I always feel I need to have no small measure of humility along with whatever view I profess. BUT I do believe in the sanctity of human life, damn it, and that is one thing I didn't want to back down on.

Anyhow, it was an interesting episode.

This is so great!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Anytime an outcast or underdog makes the world rethink its priorities, it gives me a little bit of hope. Too bad that the only reason people now value Susan Boyle is because of her voice, and not for the fact that old our young, beautiful or ugly, talented or not, all human beings are created in God's image and have intrinsic value. I pray that we would act on this reality, so that the "unacceptables" of society don't have to achieve such (unfortunately) unexpected accomplishments to be considered of any worth.

Paper or plastic?

I've always been terrible at decision-making. Ordering at restaurants is always an ordeal. I spend far too long in the cereal aisle of the grocery store contemplating whether I want Toastie-O's or Frosted Fiddlesticks. I even agonize over which sweatshirt I own goes best with which pair of jeans. It's a sweatshirt. It's not supposed to be fashionable. I'M not fashionable. And yet...

So no wonder I'm paralyzed with indecision when faced with actual choices about my future. Because somewhere, at some point, I'm going to have to take the step that puts me on a set direction and that closes off other possibilities by necessity. That's the part I hate. The fact that I could be missing out on something better, or at least something awesome or more enjoyable or more meaningful or that I would be better at etc. by choosing to pursue "X."

There are roughly three different paths I can see as possibilities at this point. I won't go into details. That would get complicated. But each is challenging and daunting in its own way. The frustrating and absolutely terrifying part is that none of them are guarantees. There's no guarantee of getting my foot in the door, there's not guarantee I'll like it if I do, and there's no guarantee I'll be remotely good at it. If ever there was a time for Divine Guidance I'd love a sign in the proverbial desert just about now. I'd be alright with the lilac bush at home bursting into flame and telling me to take off my sneakers and to brush up on my public speaking. But I think God is delighting in the fact that I'm having to make a decision. That's right, you get to make a choice. You can see the implications of each of them. Where do your priorities lie? It's up to you. Then I always imagine him chuckling evilly, which is probably blasphemous. But who knows. Maybe I will get a little more help. I'm trying hard to be patient, obedient and humble in this. I shouldn't worry, and I know it. Some days are better than others.

Part of it is life after college still seems so surreal. I hope some of my daring (for me) ideas become realities. And if so, I hope they turn out to be more exciting than they are in my head. Each life scenario I come up with seems more boring than the last. I do have one hope, but if I wrote about that I'd sound trite. This post is making less and less sense, so I think I'll just quit. I guess my point was that I AM trying to figure it out. I'm NOT just a lazy bum who hasn't made any plans for life after college. I DO have certain, or rather uncertain asperations. And even if I DON'T have a set direction yet I'm working on finding it. And that ought to be good enough. So stop giving me pitying looks. I WANT to work hard. I'm happiest when I'm being productive. I have an impulsive need to prove myself against all odds. I'm angsty and cliche. I need to go to bed.

Waaaayyy Long and Muddled

So this is just my strangely public way of organizing my thoughts a little. I've been a bit unpredictable lately and I think it's because I'm about to graduate from college and become a fully independent adult in just a few months. I didn't have much time to think about the gravity of this transition in the fall, but Jan-term has left me with time to think about my future, and as I've tried to form some definite plans various demons of uncertainty have jumped out at me, almost without my recognizing them.

I've only recently begun to notice that I'm more irritable lately. I'm discover that I DO have a bit of a temper and an unfortunate tendency to lash out when I'm in a bad mood. I've learned to ride out my mood swings, because they're often completely unfounded, but now I seem to be taking them out on those I respect and care about. If I've done so to you, I truly apologize. I probably didn't even think about it at the time, although I don't know that that's to my credit. If I do unexpectedly snap at you or otherwise act like an ogre, please bring my attention to the fact. I want to be aware of when I'm treating my friends unfairly. So please confront me about it. And thank you for forbearing with my sudden outbursts if you've had to deal with them. At least I'm now aware of the problem and it's something I'll have to be on my guard about and work on. On the flip side I'm becoming more outgoing and gregarious too. I seem to bounce between a slightly more extreme set of highs and lows, exhibiting fewer inhibitions in either case. My fear is that as graduation gets closer, it's only going to get worse. Hopefully now that I'm thinking about it I should be able to retain some control over myself.

As I said, I've been brushing off how big of a deal this upcoming transition really is. I remember feeling jittery and nervous prior to freshman year, but I was also excited because I knew I was going to a good place. Now my future is like the blinking cursor of a blank Word document at three in the morning. All I can think is: Start typing! Start typing! I'm only just realizing that this is an even bigger transition than going to colleg was, because it's so open-ended and puts such a final cap on childhood. Recognizing this has allowed me to give myself permission to be a little more emotional about it. I'm not being stupid or trite if I express that I'm nervous or overwhelmed, because it IS a big deal. The fact that everybody else goes through it too doesn't make it less of a big deal. I don't know why I always have such an aversion to being like everybody else. It's totally a pride thing. I want to be superior and above the silly problems of the common herd. Sick really. Stupid too. As though I were invincible from all that drives the lives of others.

And so I think a lot about what I want to DO with my life and how I want to live it, realizing that I'll now be able to define myself with a freedom I've never had before. I love the idea of this, of creating my own living space and being able to live out my philosophy of life through its expression in my work, hobbies, relationships etc. In a way I'm already doing this, but with limitations. I have an idea of who I want to be as an adult. Not what I want to do or accomplish, but the kind of person I want to be. There are some things about myself I want to change and probably will never be able to. There are other things I want to change and probably shouldn't. Nevertheless I have a very clear picture of how I want to function in life.

It's funny (as in peculiar, or perhaps just telling) how God gives us what we need, but not until the exact moment we absolutely need it. Fosters trust I suppose. I've recently discovered a certain inner strength I hadn't been aware of before. Of course it's not exactly self-reliance. Self-reliance is, in my opinion, a lie. Nobody can achieve that for long and be sustained. But January has allowed me to spend a lot more time with God and from that is springing a sort of self-assurance I didn't know I was capable of. As a teenager, like most teenagers, I craved acceptance and approval. I found that at Whitworth, only to discover I didn't really need it after all. Finally I don't have to run around worrying what people think of me.

This new found strength coupled with my restlessness about my future (as much as I commit myself to trust God, and one thing coming out is definitely an increase in that, I cannot be serene) are I think making me a bit reckless. I can sense my parents' anxiety that their little girl is about to venture out into the big bad world alone. In a way I can see their point. I almost feel like a danger to myself in my blind naivety. I'm such an idealist that all I want to think about is potential, not possible danger. Yet as much as I tell myself to be careful I also keep responding that I cannot be motivated by fear. You have to take risks in order to do something worthwhile. So be it.

Still, I wonder how much of my ambitions are rightly motivated. I feel excitement at some of the prospects of independence, but indignation and even boredom at others. I feel like I'm willing to embrace all the attractive aspects of adulthood, but that I want to avoid all the inconvenient ones. I will take on responsibility as it suits me and pick what obligations I feel are "worthy" of me, but reject those that seem too difficult or unpleasant. In short I applaud the IDEA of self-sacrifice but when faced with the actual spectre, not just some abstract idea of something noble and honorable, but the cold hard reality of what it means to give up something important for others, even the least thing, I turn away. I wonder how many of us really know the meaning of the word sacrifice. I wonder how many of us would really voluntarily submit to it. I wonder if we're even capable of it. My hunch is that true, unselfish, rightly motivated sacrifice is only possible through Christ. In fact that's more than a hunch, that's a basic tenet of faith. Just an implication, a part of believing that Christ is the only true model of it. In order to truly mature and live life in a way worthy of my professed relationship with God I must submit to Christ and ask for grace over and over again. My plans may all be very well, and my desires may be there for a very good reason, but they will never come to much if I stubbornly pick and choose only that which is agreeable to me. I will learn far more, and LIVE far more fully, if I allow God to take away what he will and direct me how he will. I don't really know the half of what this means. I know it's not clean cut black and white. But it's comforting somehow. So I will try to slow down and be patient and not worry about tomorrow.

No, the Weird is Not Over

Okay, I haven't even moved since my last blog post. But I've just found out that the Obama campaign is spending up to $6 million on a 30 MINUTE TV AD. Seriously people? Seriously? Were you and your campaign not satisfied with the fact that you have the press in you pocket? According to this article on the BBC website, Obama has raised "$660m, twice as much as Senator McCain - is being used to flood key states with TV advertising."

"He is likely to spend more than $100m on TV advertising in October alone, more than Senator McCain's entire campaign budget, which is limited to $84m because he opted to accept federal funds."

I mean, is this really necessary? No. Absolutely no! And I'm hoping that it will have the effect that I'm guessing it will have, that is, to turn people off a little bit. The near messianic treatment this guy is getting is going to make me barf. It. Is. Ridiculous. He is just a politician. That is all. He does not even have an impressive track record after his, what, 4 years as Senator? Woohoo. But all he has to do is say the word "change" and people act like he's the pinnacle of the modern statesman. But I really don't understand WHY a 30 minute TV ad is necessary for a politican who's campaign is obviously dominating his opponent's. And WHO is giving his campaign all this money? What is the deal with this guy? Who's back is he scratching that he is able to roll all over everyone like this? That the media grovel at his feet and the McCain campaign seems perpetually cursed? I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but I know how politics work. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

A Political Observation

I plan on blogging about the purse fiasco eventually. But first there's something I just have to mention in relation to this year's presidential election: I was aware of Barack Obama when I was a senior in high school. Yes. It's true. And here's why.

My school required that we take a Contemporary World Problems (I think) or CWP class. This was led by my amazing honors English teacher Mr. Strait (who, once again, I really should catch up with one of these days). It wasn't a very intense course. Mostly he just has us read "Newsweek" and would lead discussions on certain topics and have us write opinion papers. And so it is that I have read every single issue of Newsweek from September 2004 to probably January. I don't remember if it was a two semester course or just one. And that's where I found out about Barack Obama.

The minute I started paying attention to the presidential primaries I vividly remembered reading the Newsweek article and I wasn't at all surprised to see Barack Obama as a candidate OR that he beat out Hillary Clinton. I won't be surprised when he becomes president. I honestly don't think John McCain has a prayer. So today I went to the Whitworth library to see if I could find the particular issue that had tipped me off to the guy who has become such a media all-star. I first found a short bit on him in the Nov. 1 issue. It's just a small box with the headline "Star Bringing In the Money." It was about his work campaigning for John Kerry. It says "Obama's campaigning (for himself for Senate and for Kerry) has prompted plenty of rumors about his ambitions in Washington--and, should Kerry lose, in 2008. But for his part, Obama has played coy on what the future holds, saying recently, 'I'm just a lowly state senator trying to get into the U.S. Senate.'" Very interesting.

In the issue covering Bush's victory, Obama is not listed as one of the democratic hopefuls for 2008. Hillary Clinton is present, but few of the other actual contenders are. And then I found it. The "Who's Next Issue." He is on the COVER. "2005 Barack Obama, A Rising Star Who Wants to Get Beyond Blue vs. Red." Wow. I mean, just wow. I think it's fairly obvious that Obama has a powerful media engine behind him. I mean, the biased coverage is almost to the point of ludicrous. Nobody really seems to care. I won't rant on it too much. Let's just say it really, really annoys me. But EVEN back in 2005... Obama was already a big deal. A very big deal.

Now, to clarify on this post and why I'm making it. My conservative friends tend to think that I too am conservative. My liberal friends likewise tend to think that I am liberal. So to clarify, I am neither. Just confused. And indecisive. One of those scary independents who are so influential and also so easily influenced/manipulated. I think both presidential candidates have major, major flaws and am uncomfortable voting for either of them. But obviously I have to choose. But I wanted to point out that Obama has had an edge on this election from day 1, and that was the media. Whether he's just media-savvy, has the right connections, or has really influential people behind him (probably a combination of all three) the media, almost ALL of them (that's right Dr. McPherson, despite your claims for conservative media-bias, which I think are ridiculous). Anyways, where was I? The media. In. Obama's. Pocket. Like a puppet. Every story about him I have read is how it's so "historical" or about how the only people who won't vote for him are racist, etc. Every story about McCain is actually about Sarah Palin or about how angry and negative he's been etc. And it just floors me that this goes all the way back to 2005. Who did Newsweek predict as Republican nominee for 2008? Rick Santorum. Rick who? John McCain gets mug shot and a box. Kind of shows you what he's up against. Or was up against. Even in 2005.

The Real World?

I experienced a slight slap in the face this afternoon. It happened in the library, where I witnessed possibly the first instance of "bullying" I've ever seen on campus. I was in the reading room, happily skimming the paper when a loud group of three entered.

I heard a "Hey man, what's up," and only then noticed the other student that had been in the room with me. He was kind of short, pasty, a little overweight, and wearing glasses. The two guys in the group, who were addressing him, were tall, muscular, tan, with backwards baseball caps and pants that didn't cover their underwear. There was a girl with them. Thin, tan, stylish. It was almost out of a badly written Hollywood movie.

The new group proceeded to form a sort of circle around the kid, the sarcasm apparent in their voices as they asked how he was doing, one of them actually ruffled his hair. I wondered if it was some sort of social norm experiment by the sociology department. I nearly fell out of my chair when one of the guys asked "how's the females?" in a not so subtle jibe at the other guy's lack of physical attractiveness. Not surprisingly, he didn't know how to respond. The aggressive dialogue continued for a bit before the recipient got up and said he was leaving because he had to study for a test and didn't want to be bothered. At this point I'd been glaring at the group of them, in spite of myself, without even trying to hide my disdain. I thought I'd left this behind in high school! Did they honestly think this was appropriate behavior? How old were these kids?

They managed to calm him down a bit and he stayed and chatted with them. I kept expecting them to openly laugh at some of his comments, which were unfortunately a little dorky. But at this point hopefully they realized they were acting like jerks because they managed to show some restraint. I was interested to see what sort of conversation would follow after he left, but either because I was there or because another friend of theirs showed up they didn't pursue the topic. I personally found their lack of acceptance sickening. It's one thing to not understand somebody else because they are different. It's another to victimize them because of it.

Anyhow, this relatively minor occurence is the type of thing I'm fairly sensitive too, because I always identify with the recipient. And it got me thinking that maybe I'm overestimating the ability of people to mature. Maybe behavior that I find to be clearly adolescent really continues far beyond what I think of as an excusable age. Maybe they were just dumb freshmen. I don't know.

I've been really sheltered here at Whitworth, which boasts of a relatively supportive and accepting community. I've been able to surround myself with "people like me." A complete change from what my life before college was like. But I've heard that this adds to the difficulty of life after Whitworth, because I will no longer be sheltered in a dominantly Christian community or spending most of my day with people who understand why I would rather go to a symphony concert than a performance given by Green Day or something like that. And while it's been great to have that freedom to be myself, and to not be ashamed of who I am, I have to realize that it's not going to last.

In fact, one of my frustrations with academia in general is that it's all so artificial. This is especially true in the music department, as with other arts I'm sure. My music profs and fellow students have built their own little musical world, where it becomes almost unthinkable that anyone would think classical music is "boring." But the truth is that most of the things I love are ignored or looked down upon by most people. It's something I've had to struggle with growing up, because I'm one of those people who always craves acceptance and will do almost anything to gain it. Even compromise my personal beliefs. But I don't want to be that way. And I don't want to have to isolate myself in my own special little bubble of like-minded people. I want to be strong enough to engage with others who aren't necessarily like me. But the challenge is that other people generally aren't that accepting of people different from themselves, as evidenced today. On one level this makes sense. If I don't share basic values with someone, I'm going to have a difficult time respecting them. On the other hand, I don't want to parade myself as some sort of intellectually and spiritually elite snob. Especially because I am neither of the two. I don't go much in for elitism anyways.

Anyhow, in many ways I'm eager to get out into the real world, even if I'm apprehensive. I don't really feel strong enough for it. But, and I never thought I'd say this, college life is becoming somewhat bland. I go to class, jump through the hoop of the day, watch my professors lead me on a string to the next idea, etc. I appreciate the things I AM learning, but most of my classes no longer seem that engaging or interesting. Part of it I think is that I realize it's coming to an end, and I'm anxious to establish myself wherever I'm going to be next. The uncertainty of it is what's driving me forward.

I had some other thing to rant about here that I've forgotten. Probably it had to do with how I don't feel ready for "the rest of my life." Or maybe my anxiety about the economy and how my grand dreams of living in another country for a year are likely not going to work out. In any case, I'm not really depressed per se. Just a little uneasy and struggling with how to be "in the world but not of the world." I suppose the bottom line is whatever I succeed or fail to experience or accomplish in the coming years, the most important factor will lie in my love for God and my desire to serve him. I don't know quite where I "fit" yet, but I don't have to fit anywhere to love others as myself, as high of a mandate as that is. Anyhow, this is all very random and confused, which likely reflects my state of mind, so now I'm going to go do something, hopefully productive.

Prince Caspian: The Videogame, er, Movie...

I have just returned from Prince Caspian and need to vent. Not that I haven't already had ample opportunity with Katrina, Sam, and Amy, but I'm hoping that laying it all out in an organized blog rant will purge me of my feelings of violation. Beware, I will not be kind.

I always have conflicting feelings when I prepare to watch an adaptation of a beloved book. On the one hand there's the excitement of seeing the thing realized on screen. On the other hand, there's the fear that they won't get it right. Ever since LOTR we've been inundated with Hollywood adaptation of fantasy classics, or fantasy anything. Let me just say that I was and am a total fantasy dork. I grew up with my dad reading me the Hobbit, cut my teeth on Narnia and Redwall, and tackled the Lord of the Rings in 5th grade. Something I was immensely proud of at the time and am immensely embarrassed of now.

When the Lord of the Rings movies started coming out, I was 14, at the peak of my geeky awkwardness and unbelievably excited. Because part of the thrill of fantasy is the desire for it to be real. It's all so much more interesting than the hum-drum real world. Finally I would be able to see elves and hobbits and all the things I'd only been able to read off the page before and it would almost be like Middle Earth was real. And yet the older I get the less appeal these adaptations have for me because they invariably come up short. Narnia is making me realize how very good the LOTR movies were, but even then I was disenchanted by their shortcomings.

I enjoy movies a lot. I've taken three film classes so far and am always on the prowl for classic films. But I'm a purist when it comes to books. The book is (almost?) always better. Take out the almost. There's just more time for development, for the presentation of ideas, and there's more freedom for the reader to interpret and to imagine how things look. The Narnia series is one of those pieces of children's literature that will always be sacred to me, so it's especially hard to see somebody else change it. I actually enjoyed the first movie to an extent. There was a little too much action, some of the dialog was awkward, and it was kind of an airbrushed Hollywood version of the book. But the book was still there underneath it all. That's more than I can say for Caspian. It felt like the scriptwriters just looked at the cover and went from there.

Oh where to start? I think one of the best things about C.S. Lewis is he creates such delightful characters. Think of the beavers in LWW, or Puddleglum in the Silver Chair, or even Eustace, or Bree the neurotic war horse. They're all delightfully quirky. My opinion is that Trumpkin and Reepicheep (especially Trumpkin) make Prince Caspian, but the movie doesn't showcase or develop these or any characters at all. And one of the things that irritates me to no end is the script-writers insistence on rewriting all of the dialog. When it comes to writing, Andrew Adamson and friends vs. C.S. Lewis? Who do you think is going to win? My advice is that if you're adapting a classic work of literature, maybe include some of the, er, literature. Lewis was intelligent and his children's books are intelligent, certainly far more intelligent than something like "Whether this horn is magic or not, it brought us together... and together, we have a chance to take back what is ours!" And then we all sing kumbaya. I'm sorry, but Hollywood one-liners, while cute in some cases, should not make up the entirety of a movie.

I was so confused by what they were trying to accomplish. I don't mind a few changes to make it more interesting, but it was like a string of battle sequences with a few references to something that happened in the book in between. I found myself gazing into the distance reminiscing about how the short scene preceding Battle No. 212 was such a good part of the book while I watched the thousandth Telmarine get sliced open by Peter and Co. I've decided that their goal was to make it the perfect movie for 8-year-old boys. Give some guys swords, string together some action sequences and voila! Who cares about the story? And really there was so much violence. I think Lewis would have been appalled. This is the man who worried that the nightmare sequence in Voyage of the Dawn Treader might be frightening for small children. These books were for children! This movie is not for small children! I feel like we're so tolerant of violence in our entertainment, it's almost a double standard. We'll allow gratuitous depictions of death in our children's entertainment, but we won't allow sex. Does this really make logical sense? I'm not trying to be prude, it's just something I've had pointed out to me about American culture. I think it's true the the movie theater has become our virtual version of the Roman Colosseum.

Gosh, there was just so much that bothered me it's difficult to stop. Angst! There was so much angst! It was like the fanfiction version of Prince Caspian. What was the deal with Peter and Caspian? When they weren't slicing people open on the battlefield in needless battle sequence No. 32, they were screaming at each other. I mean, conflict is the essence of story-telling, but most of the time it didn't seem like anyone got beyond their own selfish interests. The Narnians want Narnia back, Caspian wants to be king and this just so happens to put him in league with the Narnians, Peter wants to have power, Susan apparently wants Caspian and who knows where the heck that came from, and at the end I was wondering how different are our heroes from Miraz? What exactly are they fighting for? Themselves?

I thought perhaps that I might be able to take the movie on its own terms, without judging it as an adaptation, but really I don't even think it was that good of a movie. The dialog was cliched, we're supposed to like the main characters for some reason, although they hardly stop screaming at each other long enough to become likeable. We're supposed to believe that they've formed strong bonds of friendship but we haven't really seen them interact enough to feel any sort of connection between anyone at all. And so much seemed to be stolen from other films. There was at least one scene practically airlifted from each of the LOTR movies. Frodo, er, Caspian escaping across the river and the later scene where Gandalf/Aslan calls for the river god. The ents, er, trees marching on the Telmarine army. The entire final battle sequence with the catapults was so reminiscent of Return of the King. The entire secret agent attack on the castle was just absurd. My favorite is one reviewer's reference to Princess Bride, saying he expected Caspian to step forward and say "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." It all seemed so contrived and shallow I really couldn't stomach it.

I could go on. And on and on and on and on and on. But maybe I should stop. I think I've complained enough. I just, gosh, there are such wonderful moments and characters that could have been portrayed well and weren't. Would it kill just to slow the pace down a little bit and let us get attached to the DLF and Professor Cornelius and Aslan who the filmmakers tiptoe around like dynamite in fear of offending someone. Would it kill to keep some of the integrity of the work intact? To have some demonstration of selflessness, or true friendship, or sacrifice, things that kids can look up to and that Lewis held so immeasurably dear. Would it kill to maybe explain the plot in a straightforward manner instead of using gimmicky storytelling because apparently the audience can't stay interested in a straightforward narrative. I personally was bored out of my mind. Some of these actors obviously have some charisma and ability, but there's no way for that to shine through in a performance of a story and characters that we love, not with this treatment.

So, it is with this regretful desecration behind me that I have hopes for the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which I am also very anxious about as it's my favorite of the series. There will be a new director at the helm (Michael Apted of Amazing Grace fame) and hopefully that will make all the difference. In the meantime, I think I will have to reread the book to remind myself of how good it is and why I love Narnia so much. Ah yes the books, with all their delightful quirks and nuances. I still learn a lot from them. Aslan's statement that every year Lucy grows older he will also be bigger is one that I find to be more true every day. His admonition that even though you may be the only one that is no excuse for not coming to him strikes closer to home than I'd like to admit. Even if you're not a Christian, you can appreciate Lewis' encouragement to make us bigger than we are. Lewis calls us to be the kind of people that we should be, to improve upon ourselves and to help others through our own example and encouragement. It's a high calling and it's one that I think even non-Christians can appreciate. Lewis rebukes our sinful behaviors and calls us to be people of integrity. I think that's part of why these books are more than just silly children's stories, or Jesus stories, or whatever. They've endured for a reason. I think they do have literary merit. I just wish more people understood that.

Beautiful illustration of Caspian I found on deviantart by an artist called kaytii.

Prayer

What do you do when tragedy strikes a close friend? Suddenly there is an invisible wall in between you and someone you used to share much of life with. A friend of mine recently found out her mom has cancer, and the prognosis does not look good. This week has been difficult for her, and for me as I try to find the best way to be there for her. All I can do right now is pray and hope for the best. That is the wonderful thing about prayer. It does a lot of things, one of which is simply to be an emotional outlet. It's the one thing I know I can do and not worry about being insensitive or awkward as I so often am. Which is unfortunate, because seeing her suffer really does cause me pain, yet I'm as awkward and tongue-tied as ever. Hopefully she will forgive me for my failings and God will help me to serve her in the right way. And yet I feel so helpless in the face of something like this. There is nothing I can do to fix it. There is nothing I can do to make her feel better. Nothing I say will change anything.

It is so heartbreaking to walk with her and to see that shadow she is living under. What she is feeling is so far removed and so much deeper than anything I have ever felt. I can't go there with her. I can only watch on the sidelines. And pray. Never before have I been so pious. This cancer is not only physically attacking her mom, it's attacking her whole family and I am the unhappy witness of the attacks it is making on her soul. She's always been so joyful and full of laughter, and it kills me to see her so changed by this. And yet I can't believe how strong she is in the face of it all. I am so tired of seeing my friends suffer.

"Your homework for the weekend is watch lots of movies"

Did I mention it was 3 degrees outside this morning? And yet there will always be at least one person on campus wearing shorts. I have a paper to write tonight, but here I am updating ye olde blog, which is the way of blogging I think. I had a lovely 3-day weekend though, with no homework to boot, which is probably part of the reason I have lost all motivation. And I was doing so very well.

But the weekend was a very good one and I did heed my professor's advice and watch lots of movies. The first of which being Groundhog Day with my podmates. Since Sally's arrival things have been much more harmonious in our pod. I think it's an after-affect of trying to make Sally feel at home, we're all growing closer as a result. I can't imagine what it would be like to transfer, so I've been trying to do my bit to help her transition smoothly. Luckily her and Anna are getting along very well. At times I'm reminded of the antics my first year in BJ as we all got to know each other.

Exhausted from cross country skiing, I slept for 12 hours Friday night. I awoke at 10:00 to find my roommate still slumbering above me. At least, I was pretty sure she was up there. I can't always tell. I think at least once I've been creeping around in the dark when I was the only one in the room, but I like to play it safe. :-) I learned later that she didn't arise until 12:00, which is surprisingly something I haven't done in a very long time. It was one of the loveliest Saturdays. I ate a leisurely (I've never noticed before how close this word is to the word "liege," makes sense though) anyhow, ate breakfast at a liege-like pace and finished Over Sea, Under Stone, a children's book by Susan Cooper that I wish I had known of when I was younger.

I was inspired by Over Sea, Under Stone to go to the library in search of Le Morte d'Arthur and got completely carried away and checked out 4 books. I always get carried away at libraries. I wish the time you spent reading books didn't "count" towards actual time spent in the day. But it does. So I always lose my head and come home with piles of books, most of which I will never finish but simply have the enjoyment of anticipating and looking at and turning about in my hands. Right beside Le Morte d'Arthur was Tolkien's edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and then I remembered that book on films that Professor Neder had recommended... It just gets completely out of hand.

You know, I haven't even completely read The Once and Future King, and I'm trying to wolf down it's source material. I've tried a couple of times. The first was in high school, at exactly the same that I was in my first CYT production, Robin Hood. I appeared tremendously intelligent and geeky by knowing all sorts of things about jousts and such. But by the time I got past The Sword in the Stone and got to Arthur's adulterous love affairs my 14-year-old sensibilities were quite shocked and I refused to read the trash. But during one summer at CO-AG I was desperate for reading material and a little more grown up besides and I came within about 10 pages of the ending but I never did finish it. I think summer ended. And now, if I ever want to finish it, I shall simply have to read the whole thing over again, because that's how I am with books.

I really should stop using this blog as a journal but I feel like at least I'm recording something. I mean, it's really nice to be able to look back on freshman year and remember all those experiences in such vivid detail, so on we plunge. I had tremendous fun accompanying Katrina reading through music from the French musical Le Roi Soleil. Katrina's obsessed (if you're reading this now, hi), but I can't really blame her. The music is quite good. I felt like such a show off, but I was at the same time extremely pleased at my improved sight-reading. I was tearing through this stuff and I'd never even heard it before. Progress! In between songs I generally was a terrible show off and messed about on the piano while Katrina decided what to sing next. And you know something? It sounded good. Like I knew what I was doing. Like I had complete control of the piano, which I don't. Yet. Actually, complete control's kind of a utopian ideal, but it's something to reach for and not near so far off as a couple years ago.

Our music making was cut short by a scheduled viewing of Northanger Abbey. The new adaptation is quite wonderful. I highly recommend. J.J. Fields does a marvelous job as Henry Tilney and Felicity Jones plays Catherine perfectly. It's almost made me give up my dreams of travel though. Explanation: I hate the way I talk. It's complicated. It partially comes of sharing a room with a French major, who is I understand only trying to help me but I'm afraid it's a lost cause. I've always had trouble with my "a" sounds. I can only really distinctly hear 2 when in English there are 3. So, for instance, I can't pronounce "bag" properly, or "Bath" which is how this rant got started. This among other things makes it apparent that my accent is always going to be dreadful, except when speaking German because for some reason that's almost like a mother tongue to me. Anyhow, every once in a while I will try and be intelligent and clever by mentioning such and such a book or quoting something only to find I sound like a complete ass because I can't say the da#*ed thing properly. So I take short cuts whenever I can, which partially requires me translating foreign things into English, but it's humiliating in any case.

Okay, onwards. Sunday was similarly lazy. I got to see most of Le Roi Soleil which Katrina has on DVD. Slight drawback, it's all in French with no subtitles. There is also something particularly intimidating and alienating about being surrounded by a bunch of friends who are speaking another language. Obviously, it was a French class activity and it was my choice to come, so I'm not complaining, but I'm just observing. I enjoyed the music and between songs I made up my own plot. It involved Ursula from The Little Mermaid, and a plot to submerge all of France, and Dracula, and Tinker Bell, and Ariel was in love with Louis XIV... Ummmm, yeah. I suppose Louis looks fairly attractive here, if somewhat like a girl (which was of course simply the fashion at the time). But I was under the impression that in real life he was somewhat like Ben Franklin, not so attractive and a little on the chubby side but still quite the ladies' man.

Monday was... Well, I can't quite remember what I did do. But I had a fun time playing Apples to Apples with the girls in 204 during which "carnies" were paired with "handsome," "meat cleavers" were considered "courageous" and "my love life" was deemed by myself to be "miserable." :-) Also watched several episodes of Monk, which is a wonderfully Sherlockian. And that's pretty much it and probably all we have time for. If you read all this, you're either a really good friend or a really bored soul. My prayers for you.

----------------
Now playing: Le Roi Soleil Cast - S'Aimer Est Interdit
via FoxyTunes

Um, Never Mind

First of all I'd like to allay the anxieties of all those blog-readers out there. I'm really very silly and my grades are (currently) fine. Long story short. Let's move one.

Busy weekendness with lots of opportunities for ranting! Friday I made a sincere effort to attend a distant friend's birthday party. She lived in my dorm last year and although I've never spent much time with her I've always felt we were kindred spirits in a sense. So now that she's living off campus and not so connected to college/social life I thought it would be good to get to know her a little better. Unfortunately the event kicked off late, so I basically got to stand around and make small talk for half an hour and then had to leave. But I hope we catch up with each other someday. She seems like a neat girl and I'm sure we'd have a lot to talk about.

The reason I had to leave early was because of an unfortunate event. Another friend of mine who was in my hall freshman year is transferring schools to a far away place. She's been having back problems and needs to be closer to home for treatment and so on. I haven't had the chance to see her much since that first year of school, but she is one of the funniest people I know and I will really miss seeing her on campus. It's just another reminder of how short our time at college really is and how most of these great relationships we form while here are destined to a premature close. She decided to have a farewell dinner at Red Robin and since that was the last chance I would have to see her again, I opted out of my other friend's birthday to attend. Although I didn't get to talk with her as much as I'd hoped, I did get to catch up with some other Jenkins girls and that was really good. I hope she does well at her new school and makes lots of new friends, even though we will miss her a lot.

I spent most of Saturday at the WSMTNA piano competitions. I was required to observe performances for 2.5 hours because of my lesson scholarship. Unfortunately I didn't time my arrivals very well and ended up waiting a lot. Luckily I had Jane Austen with me so I read a good chunk of Pride and Prejudice. I was also given a chance to rant about how much I hate competitions. It seems to me that someone sits and thinks "How can we make music not fun?" and from that we get competitions. Okay, so they have their place. I do admire the excellence that the contestants strive for, competitions do foster a higher standard of playing and that's important. But I think, and I almost always have, that there's too much emphasis on trophies and medals and getting first prize in the music world. I quit competing when I was in junior high for 2 simple reasons. One, it was about as fun as sticking a shard of glass into your eye. Two, because I wasn't any good at it. Gosh I hate John Coltrane. More on that later. Anyhow, piano competitions. They attract some first-rate artists, which is great. And yet, I think that someone can play a piece flawlessly with all the expression and phrasing and whatever and still fail to make MUSIC. Because music should be more than the right motions at the right times. Now, some people manage to rise above the competition atmosphere, but they are few. Think about it. The performer is beyond nervous and unless they are a very strong sort of person they are not enjoying themselves at all. They're either focused on winning or just focused on not screwing up in front of the judges. And they're paranoid about everyone in the room watching them. The judges are the antagonists. Either terrifying or menacing depending on the confidence of the performer. Meanwhile everyone in the room/competition is busy hating/fearing everybody else. We're not sitting down to enjoy an evening of music, we're in a war man! Parents are the worst. Full of anxiety about their kid and wo befall any other child who threatens their kid's chance at the top spot! As for the judges, they sit and listen to pianist after pianist, growing fatigued in this charged atmosphere whilst trying to listen for the minutest details. Tell me, does this sound like an environment in which music, and I don't mean technically good music but joyful, life-filled music, would flourish? Like I said, they have their place, but they can get ugly.

I didn't really enjoy my 2 hour stint. I listened to four pianists. The first was a beautiful thin Asian girl who played some very, very challenging pieces and was almost equal to them. Unfortunately her program was just a trifle too demanding in my opinion which left her open to some minor mistakes and less than adequate expression. But all in all her playing was very impressive and far better than mine to be sure. Next was a sort of awkward, pale young man with glasses who played at a less-challenging level than the girl but also made some mistakes and was not as expressive. The third pianist I heard was the best of the four in my opinion. He was very tall and looked kind of like Ringo from his early days with the Beatles. Once again his pieces were not as challenging as the girl's, but he played them with almost perfect poise and accuracy and in a way that allowed me to actually enjoy what he was playing. Unfortunately he overran his time limit but I still hope he did well. The last performer was truly interesting. She had dark skin and a beautiful face, wore ridiculously tall high heels and had her hair up in a precarious bun. The high heels were unfortunate because there was no way for her to gracefully pedal with them. Her pieces were very difficult but she had some memory lapses and mistakes that made me think "why do these kids try to play such showy pieces when they could play so much better with something less flashy?" Also, on her last piece, which was very rhythmic, her bun started falling out so that by the time she stood up to bow it was everywhere! This in addition to her rather unique way of breathing/vocalizing/sometimes counting out loud made it difficult for me and my friends to keep a straight face, which really isn't fair since she did play very well and above and beyond what I'm capable of. She just needs to work on her presentation a little bit. :-)

So with all this competition nonsense there were NO practice rooms. I was really unhappy because I'm performing with my combo and Jazz II at the Eastern Jazz Festival on Thursday. Oh well. I guess whatever happens, happens. Speaking of jazz, Jazz I had it's concert with guest artist Terence Blanchard yesterday and it was amazing. It wasn't quite as good as the one last year with Robin Eubanks in my opinion but that's nitpicky. Whenever you get the chance to see grammy-winning jazz artists, you pretty much can't complain. This guy started out with the likes of Lionel Hampton and Art Blakey! But for all that he seemed really down to earth and was really supportive of Whitworth's musicians. It was neat.

Today, after listening to the Men's Chorus at Colbert, I celebrated my father's 58th birthday at the Downriver Grill. My parents and Eric and Jenny were there. We know one of the chefs, which is fun, the food's very good and it was nice to see my family since I don't very often anymore. I got my Dad a Whitworth Dad sweatshirt (I hope this one fits!) It was also my parents' 33rd wedding anniversary! Wow. S0 a very full weekend altogether and a very full week ahead. I just have to make it through the 20th and then it will be Thanksgiving break!

Oh, and John Coltrane. He's revered in the jazz world. He's one of the biggest names there is. It's pretty much blasphemy not to like him. And yet I don't. He gives me a headache. I understand that his ideas are all revolutionary and stuff, but his tone is just icky. Sorry, but even if I am a small fish two-bit sophomoric jazz-pianist wannabe I'm entitled to my opinion. Coltrane is not fun to listen to, although the piano section of Softly isn't too bad. :-0)


----------------
Now playing: John Coltrane - Softly As In A Morning Sunrise
via FoxyTunes

La Vie en Rose - I Discover Edith Piaf

So, part of my so far amazing weekend is the fact that the Magic Lantern had its grand reopening. Originally a small theater for what I'll refer to, for lack of a better name, indie films in the 1970's, the Magic Lantern has returned to provide us with things that Hollywood blockbusters just can't. For me, this means foreign films.

Don't ask me where my spontaneous interest in film, or foreign film, has come from. All I know is I was inspired to take a foreign film class this semester which so far has been amazing. So I was excited to learn about the Magic Lantern because so often I hear about cool films that I will never see because Spokane is so small. I guess it's the fact that I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm always missing out on something. America is not obviously the only place that has films, or music, or art of merit. And I know that there are about a billion amazing live performances in bigger cities that blow Spocompton out of the water.

But now that the world is shrinking so rapidly, we have both the exhilarating and the terrifying opportunity to virtually see it all. For someone like me, this kind of a chance is almost suicide. Because I'm the type of person who WANTS to see it all. To not miss anything because our time here is limited, and while heaven will be infinitely better, think of all the things I could learn in the meantime! It's silly I know. And yet it's not. It could be a philosophy if I just refined it a little more. There is good solid sense in there somewhere. At the same time there is the danger of taking it too far. Of becoming so obsessed with consumption and all the experiences life has to offer that I miss the important stuff. While I'm glued to YouTube watching old jazz performances, or going to the movies, or the theater, or even a concert like the symphony I'm missing out on life. On people. Not things. Real people. Real relationships. On a real God. Art is supposed to be there to enhance life. To add meaning to it. To help us understand it. Not to replace it. And I think finding a balance in our consumption of not just entertainment but EVEN ART is increasingly becoming the challenge of this era. In my opinion we've probably already crossed the line. I've probably already crossed the line. Idolatry is alive and well...

That's kind of depressing. I could go on. But that random rant was not what this post was originally for. Through circumstances I will probably expound on later, I found myself at the opening of the Magic Lantern buying tickets for Katrina and I to see "La Vie en Rose," a French film that roughly translates to "Life Through Rose-Colored Glasses."

The film follows the life of French singer Edith Piaf. I had never even heard the name Edith Piaf before seeing this film. I had no idea what it was about. All I knew is my film prof recommended it and Katrina wanted to see it like most people want to pass final exams. Anyhow, I didn't know what I was getting into. But it was good. It was very good. Edith Piaf was an ICON in France in the early to mid 1900's. Like Frank Sinatra or Elvis is here. I'd never heard of her, yet the minute that soundtrack started playing I found the music to be extremely familiar. I had never heard half the songs before, and I'm sure I'd never heard her sing before (the score utilized actual recordings of her), but I'd heard her influence on the world of music.



The trailer makes it look like just an ordinary "biopic." But the way Olivier Dahan directs this makes it more consequential than the slough of similar pictures that have flooded American screens. Films like Ray, De-Lovely, whatever that one on the Temptations was called... Part of it is because Edith Piaf had one of the craziest lives in human existence. Born on the streets, shuffled from her alcoholic maternal grandparents to her grandmother who worked as a cook in a brothel to life with her father who was a wandering contortionist. She sang on the streets until she was discovered and put to work on the cabaret stage and later became well, almost world-famous. Yeah. Insane. I'd say the fact that she was pretty emotionally unstable is pretty understandable. She had too many love affairs for me to count. I'm not sure if she was married once or twice. She had a daughter early in life, but wasn't a very good mother to her (hmmm, wonder why) and later lost her to some sort of illness. She lost the love of her life in a plane crash (who was, by the way, married with three children). She was a chronic alcoholic AND, after being prescribed morphine after a car accident, she became dependent on it requiring 10 shots a day. This led understandably to health problems and her premature death at the age of 47. Yikes, to say the least.

The scary thing is I know almost none of this from the movie. Most of it was gleaned from my own research after I was back in my room. Because the movie doesn't move chronologically. It unfolds as a series of sequences that span from childhood to the day of her death in no apparent order. It's impossible to understand what's happening sometimes. And of course creative license was taken in places. And yet, the conglomeration created a cohesive whole. Because it presented the whole person. At once. In her death scene, at the end of the movie, we don't see just some old woman dying. We see the young child, the 20-year-old, the rat on the streets, the revered artist, all dying at once. It's hard to explain, but it's extremely emotional.

The movie is not flawless, although surprisingly clean considering its subject matter. Not clean. Just surprisingly cleaner than you'd expect. There are some overly-sentimental scenes. Some contrived. And one, in which St. Therese speaks to her out of a poorly-animated swirl of flame, that reminded me more of Disney than of French sophistication. If I was into French, or France, or had lots of money I might consider buying it. But as it is, it's not a favorite. But I am really glad I saw it.

What touched me about it was seeing this amazing woman, and what she became, and where she came from. It really makes one think about how childhood shapes us for the rest of our lives. How some people can rise above their beginnings, and yet everyone is ultimately fettered in some way by their upbringing. Another striking theme for me was her devotion to St. Therese. Whether she really was so devoted or not, I can hardly call the devotion "Christian," as I define it (and don't make snarky comments Karen, I doubt you'd agree with anyone who said a saint had sent them a married man in order to be their lover...) And yet it really reminded me, starkly, of the power, the draw, that Christ and our faith has on those who are desperate. No matter how many missions, food banks, or shelters we set up I don't think we will ever respond to this need enough. I don't think we will ever fully know the power Christ has to change lives. It's beyond our sinful comprehension in a way that's simultaneously saddening and wonderful. If anyone is confused by this, I'd love to discuss it further. I think it was the three things I've mentioned: her life/death and how it was presented, her upbringing and how it affected her, and my own inserted reminder of my commission as a Christian that really, really made me appreciate this film.

So I'd love it if you'd listen to the three songs I've put on my playlist and remember that it's not just some random French lady singing in a language you can't understand and rolling her R's a lot. It's Edith Piaf. Musically, I think she was superb. Crap it's 10:00 and I need to practice.

Hurray for Roommates! (And other thoughts)

So I've been sitting here for half an hour waiting for my amazing roommate to get back from the writing center so she can loan me her laundry card. Because mine only has 25 cents on it. The clothes and detergent are all loaded... I just need fifty more cents or so. Luckily my roommate is a kind, generous and trusting soul who is able to put up with my many crises. Otherwise life would be much more difficult. Like right now for instance. I would be standing in the laundry room, debating whether to ask for the generosity of a complete stranger while hoping that my clothes weren't being defiled by laundry detergent. Laundry detergent isn't really of much use to anybody without water. That's an awkward situation I'd much rather avoid as doing laundry is, in and of itself, awkward enough. Imagine: you're about to wash your undergarments when a guy walks in and decides to use the machine next to you. You're standing there with a pile of embarrassing clothes items. What do you do? Hide? Stuff them all into the machine as quickly as possible? Avoid eye contact? A combination of all three?

Or perhaps A) you need to use a dryer which is full of some guy's boxer shorts... or B) you walk in and some guy is unloading a dryer full of the equivalent of YOUR boxer shorts...!!! or even worse C) you and said guy know each other! All are situations I have for the most part been able to avoid, to my knowledge. But the very thought of them strikes terror into my very soul. I mean, simply another girl examining my unmentionables is bad enough... I STRONGLY DISLIKE LAUNDROMATS AND ALL FORMS OF COMMUNITY LAUNDRY ACTIVITY! In fact the only time I prefer people to observe my clothing is when I'M WEARING IT and this DEFINITELY EXCLUDES UNMENTIONABLES! This would explain why I hate shopping. I can just see myself waiting in line to buy a shirt while the two girls behind me whisper to each other about how hideous it is. Am I paranoid? Yes.

My other fear is that, either I will see someone or vice versa and recognize the clothes they are wearing from when I had to remove their laundry from the dryer. I suppose this shouldn't bother me, but it does. Just think "oh, there's Heidi, wait... I recognize that t-shirt. I've had to pull it out of the dryer like fifty times... She must not own many clothes..." Which is true. My first year of college my closet made it look like I was an ascetic. Some of my clothing this year still has tags on it because I haven't worn it yet.

My lack of clothing and shoes and such is simply proof that somewhere along the line I missed a few crucial lessons in the femininity department. Either that or I refused to attend. Probably the latter. Take make-up for example. Even stage make-up scares me, and I have far more experience with that than with the normal kind. I was out looking for foundation while shopping with my mom and sister and I asked mom how to choose the right tone/shade/whatever. Her response? "I don't know." I love my mother, but sometimes it's no wonder I'm at a loss as far as womanly guidance is concerned. So I try my best and hope I don't embarrass myself too thoroughly although if I do I'm used to it and try to laugh at myself.

I don't think boys truly appreciate the pressures of being female. They assume that fashion sense, color coordination, and the ability to smell nice all come naturally. Like when you're twelve you have an epiphany and think "Aha! Red and purple are not complimentary!" Or in my case, you paint the rocket you made in science class red and purple and your gay friend tells you that they clash. My career as an artist died that day. I still carry the scars.

Yes, I was never cut out to be a girly-girl. You know, the kind that giggle politely instead of laughing obnoxiously, walk gracefully in heels, know how to braid their hair in five different patterns, and actually like the color pink. But does the fact that I don't know what color is currently in style or whether or the fact that I look like a deranged mime whenever I try to apply lipstick necessarily make me unfeminine? Okay, maybe some people would say yes, I'm a freak. And I'd agree. But I'd like to argue that femininity means more than pink and Maybelline just like masculinity is more than football and barbecuing. And I think our culture is seriously confused about exactly what it means to be masculine or feminine. It's like these new "outreach" programs for men. Apparently "men hate going to church." And to remedy this what are we doing? We're adding men's get-togethers that include football and barbecuing. Nothing against all that, but I'm thinking if guys are finding something lacking in the church, football isn't exactly going to fix the problem. There's probably something a little deeper going on there.

So stay tuned as we explore these exciting topics, because the popular cultural definitions of what is masculine and what is feminine have been ticking me off every since I was 12. These superficial definitions are absolutely ridiculous and mean absolutely nothing. Don't tell me what I have to look like, don't tell me what I have to act like, and stay away from my laundry.

----------------
Now playing: Frank Sinatra - My Funny Valentine
via FoxyTunes

AAA - Spirited Away

So, we've covered Howl's Moving Castle, now onto what is undoubtedly Miyazaki's best film. It is not my favorite film of his, but I can objectively step back and see that it really is his best. It's hard to explain. It stole the first Academy Award for an animated film out under the nose of Disney, it was Japan's favorite movie, and yet a lot of people I've talked to about it want to know, Why?

The movie centers around Chihiro, a somewhat spoiled and lazy 10-year-old girl. Chihiro and her parents are moving to a new home and Chihiro is naturally upset. Her parents are unfortunately not too sympathetic but then, Miyazaki has his reasons for this I've found. On the way they get lost and end up in what they assume to be an abandoned theme park. Lured into the theme park by the smell of what I assume is enchanted food, Chihiro's parents decide to gorge themselves and, in what is some of the most shocking animation I've ever seen transform into pigs.
And so Chihiro is trapped alone in what she soon learns is the spirit world or something like that. Humans don't belong and aren't safe here, but Chihiro is helped by Haku, a mysterious boy who works as an apprentice for the sorceress Yubaba. Chihiro's only hope to rescue her parents and escape is to find work at the bath house Yubaba runs, where spirits come to rest and rejuvinate.


Sure, it's bizarre, but no more so than your average Grimm's fairy tale, which is how I soon decided to approach this. Chihiro must overcome a number of formidable tasks and obstacles on her quest to return home. The great thing is that Chihiro is just a normal 10-year-old girl. She's not some Disney princess or teen pop icon, saving the world while going out with Ken and touching up her mascara. :-) Her clothes are a little baggy on her, she stumbles and is clumsy, she's timid and unsure of herself, but she's also good-natured and friendly and in true Miyazaki fashion ten times more"real" than most of the movie biz' creations. Here is someone that kids might actually be able to identify with perhaps.

Miyazaki puts all his usual devices into play. Large black shadowy figures (he almost always has them, think of the chase scene I posted of Howl's Moving Castle, there's one in Princess Mononoke too, and Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind), older women (don't ask me, but he has these characters a lot), young female protagonists, a flying scene, they're all there. And of course that amazing, wonderful attention to detail. Chihiro takes the time to wiggle her foot into her shoes when putting them on, we can feel the weight of the coal she has to carry and smell the stench of the stink spirit all because of small details and expressions. All of these add up to a wonderful sense of artistry and storytelling, but that's not the be all and end all of a creative work.

I read a "Christian" review of Spirited Away and it kind of ticked me off to be frank with you. It called Spirited Away "slickly packaged pantheism," which pretty much sums up the tone of the whole review. Well... sure, there are river gods and radish spirits and wood spirits and whatever else. I guess that is pantheism. But what the review was insinuating was that Miyazaki's goal is to brain wash people into going out and bowing down to the nearest tree. Well, if you have a problem with river gods, you'd better throw out your C.S. Lewis, that's all I'll say. I'm not saying the movie is entirely appropriate for children or that it has the same Christian themes Lewis employs. Hardly. But the emphasis here is on the importance of hard work, friendship, inner potential, growth. I particularly appreciate the hard work part. Chihiro struggles through a number of unpleasant and grueling tasks, but each and every one shows the rewards of simply gritting your teeth and tackling something. These are good values. As a Christian, I place great value on Christian works that are sources of wisdom for my life. But, I also place great worth on other things. I'm not saying I approach Spirited Away the same way I would approach the Chronicles of Narnia. For myself as a Christian, Spirited Away does not hold the same tapestry of richly woven truths that reflect my Christian condition as Chronicles of Narnia. But it does hold truths, and of course that's the ultimate test of a movie or book or whatever in my opinion.

While Spirited Away may not be my favorite Miyazaki movie, it does have some of my favorite scenes ever! After Chihiro first meets Haku, he tells her she must find the boiler room and ask someone named "Kamaji" for work. The way to the boiler room lies along a steep rickety staircase on the outside of the bath house. Chihiro edges her way down it, first sliding from step to step, then gradually getting braver and standing. Just as we think she's got it, the step breaks and Chihiro is propelled, screaming, to the bottom of the staircase where she stops abruptly, flattened by the wall. Not much happens, but the way this is executed is brilliant.


Kamaji, who is one of my favorite characters of all time, turns out to be an old man with something like six arms, which he employs in heating the baths above. He has enchanted the soot in the room to carry coal for him. The soot creatures can't speak, but it doesn't take away from their personality. I would like one for a pet.

And of course there's the obligitory flying scene, in which Chihiro rides on a dragon. These scenes stay with you.

But my favorite by far is when Chihiro takes the train. That's the scene I'm posting here. It's a shame you have to see it this way, but better here than not at all. If you ever do see the movie, the fact that you've already seen this may ruin it for you. It's not a key plot point, there's virtually no dialogue, but at the same time it's not overdone or trying to be artsy.

An Uncomprehensive Analysis

Jules Feiffer is wise. Now, I know next to nothing about Mr. Feiffer. I don't know where he grew up, went to school, or whether or not he likes cheese pizza. I haven't read his biography, and the only thing I dimly remember hearing about him is that he did cartoons for the New York Times, or something like that... So how do I know he is wise? Because I have read "A Barrel of Laughs, A Vale of Tears," which is proof of this and also that my friends have excellent taste.

The book is unlike any other children's book (assuming it is a children's book) or really anything I've ever read before, which was very refreshing. It's very charming and witty and a whole lot of fun, but the thing that made it all really worth it was that beneath all this cleverness some pretty worthwhile statements were being made. Take this passage for example:

"Because Roger was a carrier of joy, he spread it before him. It glowed off his presence like the rays of the sun. He was a special delight to his mother, and the thought of this he found particularly gratifying because of her sudden demise. Out for a swim one day, she'd been swallowed by a blue whale.

He missed his mother, but whales were his favorite mammal and blue was his favorite color, so, if she had to go, that didn't seem like such a bad way. After a while, Roger came to smile at the thought of that blue whale on that bright green sea gulping down his mother in a red-striped swimming costume as if she was a candy cane."

Okay, so maybe that's just silly. Everybody knows blue whales eat plankton! But it sure was a lot of fun. Or maybe that's sick. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The book follows the story of Roger, who is a danger to the general public because he can't get within half a mile of anybody without making them laugh. Roger is a prince, but since he can't associate with people much, this ability of his would get in the way of him being a responsible king, so the royal wizard decides the only thing to do is to go on a quest. Of course. What else?

Feiffer has a lot of fun playing with cliches of the genre, and his two-dimensional characters (the book is illustrated) have more depth than some adult novels I've run across. But, as I was saying, there's more too it than that.

"'I've never HAD to make a decision before.'
'Think of it as a challenge,' said Tom, from between pursed lips.
'How do you go about it?' asked Roger...
...'You just- You put together all the- You think this way and that- You make a list- You weight the alternatives-" Tom fell silent. 'I'm a peasant,' he said at last. 'I've never had to make a decision. People like you are supposed to make them for me.'
'What if I make one--and it's wrong?"
'I'm not an expert, but if a decision doesn't work out, my guess would be that you have to make another decision.'
'A SECOND decision?' cried Roger in alarm.
'I'm not an expert, but my guess would be you keep making decisions until you get one that works.'
'That could take YEARS!' said Roger the Toad.
'That's another reason why I don't make them.'

Yep kids, that's unfortunately how it works. For everything! It's kind of ludicrous when you do really think about it. So while that passage is playful, I think it's pretty intelligent to with a good sense of how bizarre life can be and perhaps just a little political subtext? Maybe not. But if I want political subtext I can have political subtext darn it, because I'm the reader and the reader gets what the reader wants! Or so I was taught in Honors Reading Lit.

"Now, when you're considerate of other people, it introduces a whole new set of problems."

Once again, it was little tidbits like this that made the book worthwhile. If you had the context, you would see that it simultaneously acknowledges that one has a responsibility to be considerate of other people, but also that this can be bothersome, but even so, it's very much worth doing and very much the right thing to do. What a great lesson to pack into a book! I know many adults who haven't quite grasped this concept, myself included.

"Tom turned to stone because he had made up his mind that he was going to...In fact, Tom didn't really turn to stone. But it took him a week of standing in one place, stiff as a statue, before he knew it. And that knowledge came only after he got thirsty and hungry. 'Stone statues don't get thirsty' was his first thought. 'Stone statues don't get hungry' was his second thought. 'Stone statues don't think' was his third thought...Tom leaves the book now, never to return. I will write no more of him, other than to say that he lives happily ever after. All by himself. Waking every day to the cherished memory that once he was a statue and now he's not."

So first of all, we've all been this silly. We can be so sure that something terrible is going to happen that we make it happen (self-fulfilling prophecies), and we can become so wrapped up in ourselves that we make the most mundane and stupid things into great accomplishments. Feiffer knows how humanity ticks. And he puts it in a little book that can easily be read in a few hours time. There's a lot more in this book I could go on about. Lots of little tidbits about friendship and heroism and feelings and all that great stuff that's supposed to be in great books. But as much as I enjoyed it all, the only thing it really did for me was to make me want to read more Jules Feiffer. :-)

My Dad the Storyteller

So... this seemed appropriate since Father's Day is coming up.

This morning I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of delicious waffles while perusing the newspaper and chatting with my parents. The dog and the cat made general nuisances of themselves and we watched the house sparrows that live in our roof flying around the backyard. It was nice to be able to relax after the work week. As I got up to get some coffee, I noticed a newish looking watch sitting by the microwave.

"Is that a new watch or just the old one with a new band?" I asked. I didn't recognize it.

My dad looked up from the "Cars" section, sighed, and said "Well..."

This is a signal that a long and involved story is about to be told. It happens all the time. I think it's just the way my dad communicates. It doesn't matter how commonplace the subject matter is. I could ask him about the weather and he could probably come up with some trip down memory lane or obscure fact. Believe it or not, he actually managed to take 15 minutes or so just to explain that he had bought the watch around Christmas.

Whenever this happens, I always have this vision of my dad sitting around a campfire in ancient times a la Homer. He just knows how to tell a story. It's actually kind of impressive. He probably could have made a living out of it if he'd felt inclined. I've always attributed my love of books and reading to my dad's influence. I have vivid memories of him reading to me before bedtime, which I'm sure is true of a lot of people. But if you could hear my dad read from Tolkien or the short stories of Arthur Gordon you'd understand. There's no way a kid who grew up with that could NOT get it.

My dad taught me to have a deep appreciation for writing used as a means of expression and the power of the written word. I'm really grateful for this. There's not much to do out here in the country and I've spent many weekends simply polishing off another book or browsing at our little library. Reading can be one of the most enriching and fulfilling experiences in life if you know how to approach it and how to dig meaning out of the author's works. I'm not a great literary analyst by any means, and often times I read simply for pleasure and don't work that hard at finding a deeper significance. But when language is used well, it accomplishes something that neither music nor art can, because language is specific. That's an oversimplification of a complicated topic but I'm not here to write a dissertation.

So that is my written tribute to my father for Father's Day. I've always felt blessed for having a father who shows integrity, honesty, intelligence, is devoted to his family, and follows Christ. Unfortunately, that's a rare thing and something I tend to take for granted.

AAA - Howl's Moving Castle

Ever since I read "Hexwood," Diana Wynne Jones has been one of my favorite authors. Her books are always fantasy, with charming characters and witty plots, she's very aware of all the cliches in fantasy writing and rather than trying to avoid them, pokes fun at them. I've always enjoyed her books' sense of fun and how each was a sort of capsule of a different world. She doesn't tend to write long series.

So when I heard that the brilliant Japanese film director Hayao Miyazaki was doing a film adaptation of one of British author Diana Wynne Jones' novels, I could hardly believe it. Immediately it seemed like an obvious, if unlikely match. Jones has the same sense of nonsensical fun that Miyazaki often employs in his films. Their works are similarly quirky and clever and always set in impossible "magic" worlds. It was a perfect match.

I already had "Howl's Moving Castle" on my reading list. It had come up as a suggestion on my Amazon account long ago and I'd been immediately intrigued. Now I had to read it. It still took me until this summer to actually pick it up from the library, and the whole time I read through I tried to imagine how Miyazaki would approach a certain scene and kept marvelling at how perfect a match this was. I absolutely love the book, I'm rereading it already.

To my delight, the library district had the DVD and so I can give you a run down of both the book and it's Japanese adaptation.

"In the land of Ingary, where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three. Everyone knows you are the one who will fail first, and worst, if the three of you set out to seek your fortunes." So the book begins, then introducing us to Sophie Hatter, who is unfortunately the eldest of three sisters and therefore has a rather hopeless outlook for her future life. When her father dies, her step-mother is forced to send off the other two sisters into apprenticeships because they can't afford to pay for their schooling, but as the eldest Sophie is forced to stay and labor on hats. The already shy Sophie becomes even more of shut-in until she goes to visit the middle sister who is working in a bakery across town. The book and the movie diverge a bit here. In both cases she runs into the "courtly" Wizard Howl, whose floating (or, in the movie, crawling) castle makes the villagers nervous because Howl supposedly eats girls' hearts. Sophie does not know it is Howl in either case, but in the book she is simply "accosted" by him and runs away. In the movie, their meeting leads to my favorite scene, where Howl rescues Sophie from being "accosted" and they go for a walk in the sky above Market Chipping. *avidly searches YouTube for a clip*

However the evil Witch of the Waste has her eye on Howl and becomes jealous of Sophie. So she visits Sophie's hat shop and places a spell on her, making Sophie into the old woman she acts like. Sophie finds that she is much more free to act as she pleases as an old woman than she ever felt as a girl and, since she feels she can no longer stay at the shop, goes out to seek her fortune. Of course she winds up at Howl's castle. She is let in by Calcifer the fire demon. Calcifer is working for Howl under a contract that he would like Sophie to break, so he makes a bargain with Sophie that if she breaks his contract he will break her spell, the catch being he can't tell her what the contract is or how to break it. So Sophie hires herself as Howl's cleaning lady in order to solve the mystery. The plot is delightful, but in traditional Diana Wynne Jones fashion, quite confusing and it takes at least a couple readings to really get everything straight. But of course, this fits Miyazaki to a tee.

In Jones' novel, the castle is quite traditional, but Miyazaki couldn't resist tinkering with the idea. His castle ambles along on four legs looking a lot like a turtle covered with a junk heap and sounding like a car that's about to break down. The castle is one of Miyazaki's best creations, and is immensely fun to watch.

Another toy Miyazaki gets to play with is the castle door, which leads to different locations depending on which way the doorknob is facing. The idea is so good it doesn't need alteration. Howl and his assistant run a sort of wizard's shop where they create spells for purchase. Their customers reach them through a variety of different places and Calcifer works as a sort of receptionist calling out which door someone is at ("Porthaven door!" or "Kingsbury!" etc.)

I was surprised at how closely the movie followed the book at the beginning. Some scenes were done word for word. One especially fun one is where Howl cooks breakfast on Calcifer and feeds him egg shells. But then things get... different... And quite hard to follow. Whereas the Witch of the Waste is the main villain in the book, she becomes merely a side character in the movie. Miyazaki hardly ever has straight villains, and instead there's an awful lot about a war that was only hinted at in the book. We're never quite sure who's fighting who or why (until the end, kind of...) but THIS is definitely a point. To quote Howl "does it matter?" The movie has strong anti-war sentiments, yet it is not totally pacifist. Howl, who is a self-described coward, does finally turn and fight because he's "finally found someone he wants to protect." This leaves the movie open to a certain amount of interpretation which I think is both intelligent and considerate.

I do not think this film is one of Miyazaki's strongest although I have to admit it's a bit addictive and definitely growing on me. All the characters are done well, but the points where the plots truly departs from the book are confusing and don't make much sense. It was probably worse for me because I was trying to decipher the book and the movie's plot simultaneously and that's just asking for a headache. But there is some delightful stuff here and Miyazaki's usual sensitivity and humor is present.

We mostly spend our time becoming acquainted with the characters, which is quite fun. Jones tends to draw quick, dynamic portraits of personalities but leave off details which works great for a two or so hour movie. People who are used to characters with complicated backstories and detailed personality traits will find Jones' slap-dash creations possibly a bit weak, but I think it's more a matter of style then of quality. One weakness (I'll probably get spat at for this) but I think one weakness that Jones and Miyazaki share is their endings. They set up such delightful worlds an clever pretenses that it's like they're not quite sure how to wrap things up. Both the book and the movie conclude far too neatly and it feels somewhat like we've been stopped halfway through the ride.

Despite its weaknesses, I keep coming back to this movie for some reason. It has a unique charm that I think overcomes its faults and I'd recommend it as a good introduction to Miyazaki's work.

*arrives with YouTube clip* Okay! I found a clip of my favorite scene. Unfortunately, it's the English dub and as much as I like Christian Bale, it still pales in comparison to the original Japanese in which Howl is much less of a "tough guy." But at least you get to see it. Enjoy!