Upon Perusal of My Book List...

...it occurs to me that perhaps what I really need is an abundance of silly, non-intellectual fun.

Book List

So, it's that time of year when everyone is thinking obsessively about what to get me for Christmas. I love surprises best of all, and I don't want to stifle creativity, but I have a bunch of books I've been looking at/hearing about/writing down randomly in my notebook during class when they are mentioned, and I figured I would share. Anyway, it will be helpful to me to have them all in one place instead of scattered through various notebooks and scraps of paper. This list will probably grow, so check often. And maybe it will be a wish list, too. Would that be more fun, or just confusing? We'll see how I feel when I'm writing it two seconds from now.

1. Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness by Simon Wiesanthal. So excited about this one! It's based on the true experience of a Holocaust survivor who encountered an SS officer on his deathbed, whose dying wish was to speak to someone who had survived the Holocaust and seek forgiveness for his crimes.

2. Severance by Robert Olen Butler. Ok, this one is weird given my intense dislike of the whole decapitation thing, but it's intriguing... it's a collection of mini-stories, each with exactly however many words correspond to the number of seconds the brain apparently retains consciousness after decapitation (200 something I think), each from the POV of some decaptitated person across human history.

3. Fallen by David Maine. Family saga: Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel.

4. The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien. Been meaning to read this one for years, never quite do.

5. Love by Toni Morrison. See #4, also it's the only book of hers I haven't read.

6. Vested Interests: Cross-Dressing and Cultural Anxiety by Marjorie Garber. Because eventually, the library will make me return it.

7. The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World by Miroslav Wolf. Or Volf, my writing there is iffy.

8. On Photography and Regarding the Pain of Others by Susan Sontag. She's totally intriguing, though I understand if this is not the sort of title you look for in a Christmas present.

9. Angels in America by Tony Kushner, but what I want is the movie/miniseries, not the book. Because I just love Angels in America, and I never get to see anything but the first part over and over and over again.

There are more, I think, but this is getting dull, and I'm kind of assuming that buying me theory is not what most people have in mind. Nonetheless, it's good to have them written down some place. Perhaps I'll add later.

It's Going Around!

Describe yourself using one band and song titles from that band
Choose a band/artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band::	Billy Joel
Are you male or female::	She's Always a Woman
Describe yourself::	Keeping the Faith
How do some people feel about you::	You May Be Right
How do you feel about yourself::	A Matter of Trust
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend::	Shades of Gray
Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend::	New York State of Mind
Describe where you want to be::	The Great Wall of China
Describe what you want to be::	An Innocent Man
Describe how you live::	The River of Dreams
Describe how you love::	All About Soul
Share a few words of wisdom:	Only the Good Die Young

Dropping from the Eaves

So, you have to imagine that you are walking across Harvard's campus to Lamont, the big undergraduate library. It's a beautiful night, almost-black sky studded with clouds, a big gibbous moon... and then you hear a man speaking on his cell phone, in a perfect English accent, and a very agitated tone of voice.


"Caroline! I live two blocks away! His house is right next to mine!"

Pause.

"Well, I'm frightened for him!"

Pause.

"Because he seems to have gone stark raving mad!"

Pause.

"You said he attacked you, shoving you about and all that..."

Pause. He lowers his voice.

"Well, I'm not going to talk about it here."

Sadly, he is telling the truth. But I think you will see that this is nonetheless a singular experience.

This is100% NOT the Short Paper I Am "Writing"

But everyone seemed so convinced that I would take it, and I don't want to disappoint. I will try to make it interesting.

A Better Survey Than The Ones Above And Below - for girls and gay guys
Basics
What do you prefer to be called?:	Darling.
When were you born and where?:	I'm afraid I don't recall.
Where do you currently reside?:	Any one of a number of libraries at Harvard University.
Getting to know you
What could you eat for the rest of your life?:	Breyer's mint chocolate chip ice cream. And puppies. (Apparently this is going to be one of those liberally untrue surveys).
Where is your favorite place to visit locally?:	I am partial to the tunnel between the really big library and its auxiliary.
What is your favorite place to visit for a vacation?:	It's nice to get out of the library and take a stroll across the yard. I should capitalize yard to clarify things, but suddenly that seemed prententious. The problem with going to Harvard is that you become hyper-vigilant about seeming pretentious, and that in itself may in fact be a form of pretense.
What is your preference: AIM, MSN, Yahoo!, etc.?:	Telepathy. It's really the only way to whisper sweet nothings to world leaders in diplomatic meetings and watch their ears turn red.
If you could magically appear in full costume in a movie, which would it be:	I would like to appear in full costume for Elizabeth, but in something totally different... like Brokeback Mountain, maybe. Or vice versa.
Which role would you play?:	The star. Or the crazy old lady.
What is your favorite accessory?:	I am always fond of my Bryn Mawr ring, and currently charmed by a new little snake.
What is your dream career?:	Telepathic Mischief Maker Laureate.
Which country would you live in if you had the choice?:	Narnia
Do you believe in the Loch Ness Monster?:	Believe in it, sure. Believe it, not after Valentine's Day 1997.
How about ouija boards?:	I like my ghosts like I like my liquor: I don't have anything to use as a punchline, so just pretend.
Which would you rather be stuck in?
Winter blizzard or summer heat/humidity?:	Blizzard, provided no threat to life and limb. I always feel the need to put these caveats. As though some sinister force is waiting to trip me up based on a casual omission of stipulation.
Hurricane or Earthquake?:	Good God, I'm taking a class on Katrina. EARTHQUAKE. Same stipulations apply as above.
An opera or a football game?:	Opera!
A closet or an elevator?:	A closet? Unless I was in the elevator with someone interesting. Like those questions where you have to pick famous people you want to have dinner with. Pick three people, alive or dead, that you would like to be stuck in an elevator with. Or a closet, I guess, but why would you be stuck in a closet? I guess if it were full of people and you couldn't reach the door handle. And maybe if one of the people was malicious and incredibly strong! Choose wisely when you pack your closet, everyone.
a railroad track with an oncoming train or hanging from a carnival ride?:	Hanging from a ride, but only with Noah from Into the Dream.
A fight between friends or a room filled with scary spiders?:	I'm usually fine with spiders.
Randoms
Who are you jealous of and for what reason?:	You, you sexy brilliant thing.
which type of salad dressing do you prefer?:	French. Especially the Catalina/Country French sort. Bleu Cheese. Especially crumbly.
Can you eat with chopsticks?:	I can also terrorize small insects with them. But I don't hurt them. I like small insects.
...Are you addicted to myspace? Tell the truth.:	In precisely the same way that I am addicted to heroin.
In the Opposite sex (or same if you are gay)
What is your favorite eye color?:	Aubergine.
What is the first thing you notice when you are attracted to him?:	Genital area.
Do you like light, sparkling hair or smooth, dark hair?:	Dark sparkling hair. Like if champagne were made with bourbon.
Any preferred height?:	Nope.
What is one thing he could say that would make you melt?:	I'm not going to write that here. Particularly if poised with a tattoo needle and reading steamy poetry.
What is the most romantic scenerio you can think of?:	Sex under the table in the aforementioned diplomatic meeting, while transmitting crucial moments to the world leaders with their faces substituted for ours.
Do you need a ring, if he were to propose?:	I would rather that not be done over the phone.
Are you crushing on anyone in particular?:	Yes to the spirit, but I feel that "crushing on" is a silly phrase. Just my $0.02.
If not, who is the closest thing to *drool* you can think of?:	Now the phraseology is getting so silly that I refuse to play. Is that pretentious? Alas, I think so.
Fashion expression
What is your favorite color to wear?:	Red? But I wear other colors more. I don't know. Puce.
Is there an article of clothing you wear every day?:	There's an article of clothing I wear NO days. Many, in fact.
What brings out the color of your eyes?:	I guess brown things. And maybe olive. Sometimes black. So if I had a gown made of grass and dried leaves and tree bark and the spaces between stars.
Are your nails painted? If so, what color?:	My nails are actually painted on. It's a swell party trick to peel them right off again. Not for the faint of heart.
What would you call your style?:	Jarvis Erik W.
What is your frequent shop? (department store):	What is my frequent shop??
Is your hair short or long?:	Kinda medium in need of cut.
Is it your natural color?:	No, and I'll never tell you what that is. Not unless you call me darling under the table at a diplomatic conference.
Do you prefer to be tan or pale?:	A gentleman never tells.
Friends
Do you get very personal with your friends?:	Very.
Are you friends with two or more different 'groups'?:	At the same time? I'm not that kind of girl.
Who is most simliar to you?:	Huh...my first instinct is Becky, because we spend so much time together that we've rubbed off. (I'm going to keep Rachel's answer for this one, because I think it is very apt.)
Who is most opposite?:	Huh...my first instinct is Becky, because we spend so much time together that we've rubbed off, and bits of us keep sort of floating ito this central vortex between us, and drifting away, thus creating an ever-increasing number of differences.
Who do you suppose will take this survey after you?:	Good God, you think I am so preoccupied with jealousy to think about that sort of thing in the act of taking it? Well... you're not wrong. It will probably be this handsome fellow across the way from me, damn his non-aubergine survey-stealing eyes.
Finale
What time is it?:	TIME TO WRITE MY PAPER. I'm hungry. This was not a smart idea. I hope you liked it anyway.

Dreams

First, I dreamed that Maddie and Charlotte and Sarah Bardenett and David Fanelli were all coming to my old home for my birthday dinner. And we were all staying in this front part of the place (which was layed out in some totally different way) and trying to figure out where everyone was going to sleep.

Then, I dreamed that I was telling people about this play... except that it switched into me being a part of the story sometimes, which really looked more like a movie than a play. I think what happened is that I saw part of the story in my head, and then tried to describe it. (Sort of like this, in fact.) But there was a man who was the main character, and I was seeing through his eyes when I was there. And I think he had this weird cut, on his chin or below his throat, but I'm not sure. Anyway, he was in a sort of food court, which was mostly deserted, and I think he got some pizza or some kind of food, and he was talking to the people who worked there. He had just been through some kind of harrowing experience, in which this youngr eporter, who I guess was a collegue of his in some capacity, had been killed. The reporter's name was Jim.

Anyway, this guy went outside. It was a city, and sort of freshly rained on, and he ran into this other man, except the individual was somewhat gender-ambiguous... not really because of behavior, I don't think, though his clothes were a little unusual in some way, but more because he was actually an angel or some other kind of spiritual being. He kind of approached my guy and they had a conversation. I think the spirit guy was saying that he and his kind used to be all over the earth, or something, and then they had to leave, but a lot of them didn't. And he was saying, "Why would we leave? Look at it here. Would you leave?" And this lead my guy to sort of take a mental stock of why his life was good, or something. And this was accompanied by a mental image of a naked woman sitting up in bed, but she was very undefined in her appearance... I think the point of her was that she was aware of the world and happy? I'm not sure. But he said, to himself but I think the spirit guy heard him, "I've got a place to live, and I've got (something else I forget), and I've got a man who loves me." And I think he was trying to avoid the subject of the experience he just went through and the death of Jim with the spirit, but the spirit knew all about it, and was forcing him to talk about it. And he kept trying to talk about the things in his life that were good, like, "I've got friends, and family, and a cat," or something. But the spirit was very insistant that they deal with this experience. I think the problem was that my guy knew that if he directly faced or admitted to what happened, he would have to go back to the bad situation in some way and fight a battle or something, and he was scared.

Then it flashed to me being in a hallway, and I was playing a game with Charlotte which involved us kicking a ball back and forth with the object being to hit the doorways... I think I lost. But then I went to make some meatballs, and I was telling my mom and Charlotte about this play-thing, and I had the same cut as the guy, and it was really quite bloody and we had to keep binding it up, and my mom was telling me calmly that I should take as much medicine as I wanted, and probably at the hospital they would give me ten or twenty tylenol. But I was trying to cook meatballs and tell about the play, and my mom seemed uninterested, and Charlotte told me that this wasn't the way you were supposed to summarize a play, that I was putting in too much detail, and tried to describe how you had to say it all in one sentence... and I was really fed up with everyone not listening to the story, and my bleeding chin/neck was painful and irritating. So then my mom was like, let's go to the hospital, and I realized we were going out the door with the meatballs just sitting on the stove in grease, and I was really pissed and I was like, if we leave them like that they'll go bad while we're gone! And I went back and was trying to get it all in the fridge really quickly and drain the grease and my mom was just sort of cheerfully hurrying me out the door... it was all rather upsetting.

After having written that out, it is about as weird as I thought. Clearly some kind of anxiety dream... and I like the play part... but odd.

Why I Cannot Write My Midterm

Dear Professor,

I regret to inform you that I cannot write my midterm because there are people to talk to online, and they say such things as this:

tinica: I'm probably disturbing the whole neighborhood of trash-taking-out students

tinica: Oh yes. That is how I arrived at this all-night exam-fest. Through stalwart discipline.

avalon2004: bounce, bounce, everybody bounce...

kkaczmawr: *revels in many hugs*

charlotteroserl: They should send that out in the Move On emails: Don't lure your lover out of traveling distance of their polling place the night before the election.

I am sure you will understand and agree that such quality interactions have priority over your exam. Thank you for your time, and of course I will be happy to include you in such witty and fascinating exchanges if you will contact me online.

Your semi-obediant student,
Becky

Irresistable Spam

I just got a mail message with the subject line: " mosquito boat peace offering."

I couldn't resist.

Inside, it says: "if you will only tell me what sort of girl miss king is, i shall know what to think."and kitty were out of sight, then returned into the drawing-room.

Hopefully it's not some horrible virus, but really... how bizarre and interesting.

What's in a Name?

Rebecca

Add to My Favorite Names

Origin Meaning Hebrew bound Traits: People think of Rebecca as a pretty, unpretentious young woman who is smart, well-read, and either outspoken and strong-willed, or soft and sweet. Famous people with this name: the biblical Rebekah, Isaac's wife; Kate D. Wiggin's novel Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm; Daphne du Maurier's novel Rebecca; actress Rebecca (The Hand That Rocks the Cradle) De Mornay; author Rebecca West 1. Strong, independent-minded Rebecca! Parent's naming their child Rebecca beware of attitudinal difficulties coupled with an undying creative wit! 2. To me the name Rebecca means ~PRINCESS!~ 3. To me Rebecca means witch with a capital "B" but you HAVE to love them anyway for thier weird ways and their stinky butts!! 4. I love my name because no one else had it in my school growing up so it made me feel special, but if you name your girl this be prepared for the nicknames that come with it...rarely any of my friends call me Rebecca, they always shorten it to Becca (which I don't mind), Beck (which is a little annoying), or Becky (I loathe that nickname, its sounds like I should be feeding chickens on a farm). Also for some reason people have a hard time spelling this name they're always sticking extra letters in there. But overall I love my name. 5. Ready Eager Beautiful Exciting Cute Cuddly Any thing she want to be 6. Rebecca is a beautiful and name that has a certain elegance to it. Also I think that when heard it is someone who you readily want to respect but the nicknames of Rebecca, like Becky, Becca(Becka), Beck, and Reba I don't think are as readily respected. Overall though I love the name and am proud to have it as my own. It's also an old name and even though I might not spell it the same way they do in the Bible it's still beautiful and respected. 7. Rebecca is one of my three greatest joys in the world. At 3 she is so full of life and smiles. I just wish she would learn to go potty. Middletown, Pa 8. 'Rebecca' makes me think of a young, gorgeous brunette who is highly intelligent and has a wild streak. 9. My daughter Rebecca is beautiful with long dark hair. She is the biggest Tomboy around, full of life, funny, smart, mouthy, cuddly, daddy's girl, great big sister, friendly, TALKATIVE, intuitive, independant, strong. A beautiful name for a beautiful person. Will go far in life. 10. I love the name Rebecca! The only nickname I like for it, though, is Becca. Rebecca is a beautiful, classic name that I would give to a daughter if my sister-in-law wasn't named that already. By the way, my SIL is a remarkable, independent woman who knows her own mind. She is strong and capable. She is also drop-dead gorgeous! 11. I love my name (Rebecca duh!) It flows off your tongue very nicely!! As does Rebecca and Ryleigh (my twin sisters name!) we are both tall, blonde, smart and very athletic! 12. My name is Rebecca I love my name and I often go by Becca I have had to very wonderful friends and one was Becca and the other was Becca we had a lot of fun with our names when meeting new people but at work it is only Rebecca for some reason Becca just does not work if you want Respect 13. :D I adore my name; Rebecca, I'm not trying to be vain or anything. Until I was in middle school I was called Rebecca. I get called Becca often, now. I like Becca, but Rebecca just is what I am used to. There are many nicknames with this name. The only problem I had, is that people love to add an extra 'B' ...I don't know why. 14. my daughters name is alpha rebekah and it means "beginning to be born again". people thought it was such a "strange" name at first, but, she is a beautiful young woman now and her name fits her perfectly! 15. Well as a Rebecca myself I must say it's a wonderful name. Altho mine has a twist to the spelling and I think more parents should try different ways and see what fits them. My spelling is ReBeccah and yes it's hard in school no one EVERY spells it right and no you can't find stuff with your name printed on it but then again none of that mattered cuz in the end I know it was because I was unique. It's a very simple and wholesome name fit for any little girl that will some day come along and climb on your lap and ask about why you named her so. 16. I LOVE My Name... Rebecca! I Though DO Go By Becky. I Hated When People Would Call Me Becca Or Beck. Its Rebecca OR Becky. Thats It!! Growing Up, Kids Couldnt Make Fun Of It. And I Was The Only One With My Name. I Am A Witch At Times, I Have MY OWN Personality By Far. But I Have To Say In The End... Everyone Loves A Rebecca. 17. I LOVE THE NAME REBEKAH! I think it is the most beautiful bible name! I am a redhead and my name is Rebekah. I am part crazy and do a lot of wild things, I don't know if it is the name or the hair color, or maybe the combination of the two that makes me who I am. I know a Rebecca, and she is a stuck up b*tch! So don't spell your daughter's name like that--thanx 18. I am Rebecca and I think the description pretty much says it all. And it's not either/or - it's both that I'm strong and outspoken and yet soft and compassionate. I have found, however, that Becky doesn't garner nearly the respect at work as Rebecca. I HIGHLY recommend to all of you called Becky, Becca, Beckie, Reba (especially Reba) or any other variation to stick to "Rebecca" in your working world. [[how's that for outspoken]] 19. Rock on #16! I am a Rebecca too and I never liked the name until my mom told me why she picked it. Rebecca was a friend of hers in high school that my grandfather really liked and my mom always remembered how happy it made her dad that she was friends with such a nice girl so she named me after her. But I do have to say that I have always been called Becky, and because I am so outspoken I still feel like I get respect from coworkers for my honesty and the fact that I do not take crap from anyone! So keep on being your outspoken, stubborn, energetic, beautiful selves all of us Rebeccas out there! 20. My sister is Rebecca but she has no commen since. Nothing against the name, and Yes I still Love her!!! 21. Hi All, My youngest daughter's name is Rebecca, I have always loved the name. My daughter is caring, hysterically funny,witty, beautiful, intellegent, facinating, loving and totally a young lady. She is so amazing - and I have a feeling she's going to take on the world soon ! You go GIRL ! Ciao, Kelly 22. As a Mom and Dad with unusual (OK, weird) names, we were careful to pick names for both of our girls that they could live with. We were very proud of Rebecca Suzanne and our beautiful child is also to be proud of. She is very athletic, social, and has a giving heart. The only problem she has with her name is the fact that the Biblical Rebekah lied to her husband. My Rebecca knows better! 23. my name is ok but I wish my mom named me molly. 24. This is my best friend's name. She is pretty, smart and very strong-willed. It's an elegant name, I think. 25. We love this name. We named our daughter Rebecca Nacole. We picked out the name Rebecca 7 months before she was born, we didn't even know she was going to be a girl. Nacole came to us later on, today she is one month old. She has dark brown hair, dark blue eyes, very strong for a month old baby, and very happy. 26. my aunt name is Rebecca but she like it by Becky! she died in 1999 but i will name my daughter after her Rebecca "Becky" Faith! 27. I like my name - and I'd be willing to bet that a good protion of the Rebeccas out there have the middle name, Lynn - am I right??? :) I just always wanted it spelled Rebekkah - more unique, I guess... 28. Rebecca is such a soft and feminine name. And she's always caring and sweet. Rebecca's are great people. I've known a couple in my life and I've liked all of them. If she goes by Becca then she's cute and perky and if by Becky then soft-spoken and traditional. Rebecca is so classic. I'd name my daughter Rebecca Marie. I imagine her having soft brown curls and big green eyes. And I'd call her Bex for short sometimes but for the most part she'd be Rebecca. 29. I am a Rebecca Lynn in my early thirties. I have always been called Becky, until I met my husband. He has always called me Rebecca, and it was then that I decided that I liked my name. Close friends call me Becky, but I often refer to myself as Rebecca to those I do not know. The characterists of Rebecca are on target. Overall, I am well liked, and sweet, but have a tendency to be a B-witch without even realizing it. And like the biblical Rebecca, I have lied to my husband. So, if you plan to name your child Rebecca, instill deeply the respect for honesty and sincerity. 30. Rebecca is a wonderful name.It has a nice ring to it. 31. My friend is named Rebecca and she is smart (although not as smart as me) and blond almost white haired. 32. I have to say i love the name. My big sis is named Rebecca. but she goes by Becci which is not that common. but it suits her. I just like the name 33. my name is Rayna Lynn and my twin sister is Raygan Lee, I've always wished my name was Rebecca, I love it, if i have a girl she will definatly be Rebecca, she has to have an "R" name like her mommy, and auntie and uncle. Rayna Lynn P. * 34. I have always thought my name, Rebecca was elegant and also a classic name. When someone calls me "Becky" I tell them that is not the name I was born with and it is presumetious (sp)to call me a different name. Would you like to be called Jane if your name was ann? Since becky and Rebecca don't sound anything alike I wish people would "get the difference". Too bad old-fashioned names are not popular but now girls need a Male gender name or Surname which is worse! Is McKenzie feminine? 35. I love my name, Rebecca, but unfortunately the only other Rebeccas I've ever met were really awful! 36. This is my name and fits me. I am definitely outspoken and strong willed- temper temper! I also am very well read and love knowledge. I work in the biology field so I am always learning something new. I never cared for my name growing up as I hated the nicknames (except for Becca, which is the only one people are allowed to use unless they're special). I hate Becky, but the other girls I knew named Rebecca all went by Becky and I was the only Becca- I never got mixed up in the confusion. I was supposed to be Sara Jane, but I will take Rebecca Lee over that any day! Yes, a nice name, but beware if you are naming your child this! I agree we all have tempers and attitude! Be READY! 37. Rebecca is my best friend's name and she goes by becca or beck. she has long light reddish brown hair and big blue eyes and is funny, a little shy, gorgeous, interesting, and a wonderful best friend. she has never in her life been snobby or mean to anyone. 38. Hi my name is Rebecca, (Becki)..Growing up I hated my name "Rebecca" in 8th grade some of my friends and I were talking about our names and we wanted to chage them..I changed my "y" to and "i" because I always liked to be different..It wasn't until my early adulthood that I liked my name "Rebecca" My grandmother and my aunt named me "Rebecca Ann" My parents didn't have a girl name picked out..(I had 2 older bothers) so I went a few hours before I was named...I learned to like my name because it was hand picked by 2 important woman in my life and my mother approved of it...I go by "Becki" to my friends but in Business it is "Rebecca".. I like my name now..because "Becki" can be playful and fun..and "Rebecca" can be Professional and Respected. Becky Add to My Favorite Names Traits: Becky is described as a cute, young tomboy who is earthy, quiet, and happy. Famous people with this name: book characters Becky (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer) Thatcher, Becky (Vanity Fair) Sharp 1. this is a great name every one i know with the name is very outgoing smart and as cute as can be 2. I have to agree. My best freind is named Becky and she is the most wonderful person in the world 3. I have a friend Becky. She has shoulder length dark dark brown hair. She is very shy but around people she know you can't get her to stop talking. She is funny and has the best laugh. I love the name Becky. 4. When I was a junior in high I changed the spelling to Bekkie. I love my name now. I feel like it fits me better. 5. I got creative in 7th grade. i dropped the c from my name to be set apart from all the other beckys. ive spelled it Beky to this day and love the twist of it! 6. I do not care for the name Becky , every Becky I know is mean and snobish . 7. My mother named me Beckey... when my mom recieved my birth certificate they spelled it Becky.. I have always like the strange spelling to Beckey... But I have stayed with what I know.. Becky! I think it fits me now, but I really hated it in school and high school. No one else was named Becky and I was always and forever placed in the front of lines because of my name... I think if it was my choice as to what my name would be it would be something like Sophie or something more femine. But you can't change what is done.. remember this when you are naming your baby.. The name stays with them for the rest of thier lives. Have a great day~ 8. My name is Becki. My mom said I was too small at birth to carry the name Rebecca especially because my last name was 11 letters long. I think I would have preferred Rebecca, maybe Becca for short, but I do like that she spelled it a little different. 9. My full name is Rebekah but i use Becky as a nick! I like it. I can be shy around people at first but once i get a little more comfortable i get loud and start having a lota fun and am more open and talk a lot!! Well at least that is what my friends and family tell me. 10. Becky is the name of the woman who was my husband's secretary and then had an affair with him, thus leading my marriage to divorce. And to think that if my baby had been born female I had the name Rebecca picked out. It is too common and plain a name anyway. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. 11. Name Becky reminds me Becky in Roseanne.I hate that serial so I don't like this name. 12. My name is Beckie. I am glad it is spelled without a "y". I like it when people ask me if it is short for Rebecca because it isn't, and that makes me unique! I think I fit the description because I am cute and I love being a tomboy!! I have dark brown eyes and hair. 13. One of my best friends is called Becci (she spells it differently) she is so small cute, friendly, outgoing and lovely! shes not at all stuck up or snobby shes a really nice girl. I luv her! I wouldnt pick this name myself for my child as I think its a bit plain and common, but I have no bad feeling towards it. Interesting... especially that there are lots of Rebecca Lynnes. Makes me glad I have the e on the end; thanks Dad. I also think it's interesting that the Rebecca descriptions overall fit me a bit better than the Beckys (I think), and if I were just hearing the names out of the blue I would think Rebecca is prettier... which it is... but Becky has some essence of my identity inside it that I can't let go of. I remember thinking about going by Rebecca when I went to first grade, because it was more grown up, but when push came to shove, Becky just came out of my mouth as me. Rebecca is my public, officially presented self, and Becky is... Becky carries my personality, for better and worse. If I am not called Becky by enough people in my life for long enough, I feel very lonely and unknown. Also I think Becky is a little more fun, has more of a spark, takes herself less seriously. Becky is strong in a certain way, something to do with the k, I think. I think what most people are going with as this "tomboy" aspect (certainly not me) I identify as a brand of strength. But it's interesting as well how I probably identify personally with Rebecca more than my friends identify me as such. Most of my friends would never call me Rebecca. My family, on the other hand, uses my names much more interchangably. Though my dad rarely calls me Rebecca. Just my mom and sometimes my aunts and uncles and my grandma. I often think about whether (with any luck) I will be published as Rebecca or Becky, and I think probably Rebecca, but it also seems odd that (with any luck) readers who will never meet me would only know my public name. So I'm not sure. Also, I have to say that I much prefer "captivating" as a meaning for my name than "bound." "Steadfast" is ok, but "captivating" is way sexier, and "bound" just is not appealing. I would love to hear more on this topic from those of you with nicknames... I think it provides a certain opportunity for expressing a double-consciousness of self that maybe those without nicknames... I won't say don't have, but don't experience in this way. I'm also curious on how people relate to their given and nicknames... similarly to me? Differently? Sound off if you feel like it.

Con Mind

I realized today that it's a confidence problem. Perhaps you already knew this, or have been telling me this for years, but... In several separate encounters today, I realized that I was genuinely startled when people seemed to like me or show any interest in me, and that I have a sort of basic expectation that unless I am making a concerted effort to be exciting, most people probably have at least a mildly negative impression of me.

And the other day, I realized very concretely that a lot of my anxiety about work is because I am genuinely worried about proving that I am good enough to be here.

I don't exactly know what to do about these realizations, which don't actually sound all that revelationy when I write them out. I think the revelation is that these are perceptions, not necessarily the underlying fact. Like, the underlying fact isn't that I have been boring and anti-social and unengaging in most situations here, it's just my perception of my own behavior.

The mind is a strange and often inaccurate place.

Questions from Harvard

So, before I got sick forever and ever, I made a list of questions that Harvard asked me, on just one side of a little poster posting post. I thought it would clarify why this place is both fascinating and overwhelming:

Need some wheels?
Do I like her... or just admire her?
Does God exist?
How can God allow pain?
Why is religion full of hypocrites?
What is HPV?
What is democratic socialism?
Christianity: Boring, untrue, irrelevant?
Why did Jesus die?
How and why should I pray?
Are you interested in applying your analytical, financial, and programming expertise to a challenging and rewarding career as a Quantitative Equity Analyst?

Pretend it's a survey if you want... maybe I will try to answer one of these questions at a time. I'll start with the last one. The answer to the last one is no.

I Promised... and I Stole

In a sanctioned, in fact mandated way, from Maddie. I think this is a lovely way to jump into blogging again, and also to reward whatever faithful readers remain for months of fruitless refreshing of this page. Here you are:

The first five people to respond to this post, will get some form of art, by me, about them. I make no guarantees about quality or type, but I will assure that I will give it good effort and that the art will be individual to you, so if you get a mixed CD, a dirty limerick, some sort of painting , or perhaps some origami, or anything else yours is the only one like it.
The only catch, of course; as with most memes, if you sign up, you have to put this in your own journal as well.

.

Just to Be a Tease...

I had a bonafide sex dream last night.

I rarely do.

It was someone you know.

After the sex, I remember sort of "waking up" within the dream and critiquing my own performance, which I think is yet another example of the meta-dreams I am often prone to.

Anyway... time for a meeting. What else is new? ;)

Real update later, I hope! (Si, Numero Uno, y tambien mi examencito, lo que no he olvidado.)

Goodbye Todd!

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye! I'll miss you. Damn. I wish you weren't going... but I'm glad you are. I hope you enjoyed me as much as I did you, and did not think I was flaky or bizarre in a bad way. Good luck in Florida!

Happy Birthday Rachel!

:-D

Now you are 24 like me!

So glad you made it to the Earth while I was on it. :) Happy day!

Two Irritations of the Morning and an Emergency

Yes, I'm really trying to get back in the posting groove... and I will take my own survey at some point... but right now I want to share two things that I noticed this morning and mentally responded with frustration and annoyance.

Thing #1: I have come to the conclusion that there is a deadly plague or perhaps a toe-eating monster hiding in the back half of every Septa bus. Yet again this morning, about 500 people were literally squashed against the front door while, exactly at the back door, others held their positions as though defending an international border. What is the problem?? Can't you see that NO ONE ELSE CAN FIT ON THE BUS? You are literally depriving people of transportation because you won't climb two little steps, grab onto a pole, and stand there instead of two feet away. Sometimes you are depriving people of transportation because you would rather stand in a crowd than sit in a perfectly lovely seat in the back half of the bus. It is utterly, completely baffling to me that this seems to be a universal phenomenon. I actually said something today. I was like, "We have to move back more; there are people squashed against the door." And this one woman did.... all the way to the back door! Please, someone, let me in on the secret. What is back there? I've sat there. I've stood there. It seemed just fine to me. There are signs all over the bus with arrows telling people to please move back. The bus driver sometimes says, "Please move back if you can." And yet.... at the back door they stand, indifferent and intractable. I feel that this phenomenon is somehow revelatory of a basic, fundamental flaw in human nature.

Thing #2: Why would you take the time to write a song that is 100%, unadulteratedly about how there is absolutely no point in anything ever and the whole world is worthless and really we all might as well just give up now. I mean, you have to spend time on this. You have to craft it, and listen to it, and practice it, and fix things that don't work, and deal with lyrics AND music, and then you have to record it, assuming you are someone I am listening to on the radio or something, and play it again and again, and presumably you are enjoying this on some level... and what's more, you are working on it, you are creating it and shaping it and all of this stuff... but the whole point is that there is no point. I think what irks me is that you make this astonishing pattern, this music, and I don't think you can do that without caring about it... but you do it to say there is no meaning, let's all just kill ourselves. Which is not to say that I think despair should not be expressed artistically, I just... I'm not quite sure what I'm trying to say. Except there's something about most of these songs that just rings false and irritates me, instead of moving me with the plight of the musician/people in general. How does this fit in with the fact that one of the things I love about writing is that I can take the strange, ugly, painful things in my life and transmute them somehow? Or with the bizarre and disturbing story I just finished writing? I don't know. But it does seem different to me.

Wow, on an unrelated note, we just had a fire alarm, and Maria and I were the only ones who left... it had gone off once before and stopped, and people said it was a false alarm. They were probably laughing at us up here... but I'm always worried that I'll hesitate too long, and then it will be a real emergency.

Which makes me think about how we relate to emergency and normal life. There's obviously a shift, where you go from normality to definite abnormality, a shift in perception as well as action. But there also seems to be this limbo, where something has interrupted normality, but you are not ready to commit to it being an emergency and act accordingly. I guess that wouldn't be limbo, it would be purgatory. Or perhaps a pre-hell, since purgatory leads to something better... anyway. It's not comfortable, this inbetweenness. I think maybe it's less comfortable than either normality or the emergency itself, which are definite states of mind that you know how to navigate. Maybe that's arrogant, since I have not truly experienced a life and death emergency. But I've experienced what I've thought at the time were life and death emergencies. But I know it's the inbetween state that I find truly uncomfortable and scary, because I don't want to go off the deep end and totally overreact, but at the same time I am afraid that I will wait around deciding if it's real danger just long enough to prevent escape.

And how does this relate to the desire we all have for the interruption of normal life? Don't you? Do you ever have disaster fantasies, escape fantasies, what would I do if fantasies? I do. I definitely do. I always escape with my life, at least when I'm awake. Though sometimes I get to a dead end and have to go back and find another way out, and presumably the fantasy me that got stuck for ideas doesn't escape. And I also have had specific death fantasies when the whole kidnapping/decapitation spree in Iraq was at its height (please don't take that flippantly... I don't mean it that way.) Those happened because of my irrational terror of decapitation. Not that it's irrational to fear that, but it's just not a viable threat in my life, and yet it fills me with a much more visceral fear than other forms of death.

Wow, now that I'm thoroughly discomfited... why do we both fear and crave emergenies? Why do we like disaster movies and roller coasters (though, with exceptions, I don't really like either. In fact, disaster movies could go on a "things that annoy me" list)? But I have been struck, in the midst of negative emotions, fear, doubt, anger, sorrow about horrible things happening in the world, about the war, etc.... by a certain hidden seed of excitement. That "something is happening" excitement, that "I have something to fight against, to care about, to absorb my interest" excitement.

What's it all about, Alfie?

Damn, it's 11:20, and I really have not done much work. I should. But please, if you have any ideas or insights on these matters, I would like to hear them.

Time for A Game

So, today I had a conversation with someone I don't know who reads this blog, and it made me think about how many people could actually be reading this... and about blogs I read without revealing myself... etc. So, I decided to play a little game, called "make your own survey." And, if you are reading this, you are ABSOLUTELY obligated to take the survey, or forever eschew my blog. However, you are allowed to lie outrageously if you don't want to reveal something. You may not lie pettily, only outrageously. Those are all the rules.

Also, if we have not specifically spoken, thank you for reading, and welcome to my blog.

1. What is your name?

2. How old are you?

3. Do you know me from Adam?

4. How can you tell the difference between me and Adam?

5. If you could truthfully change your answer to 1, 2, or 3, which would you pick and what would you like to change it to?

6. Name three people that you love, just the first that come to mind:

7. Now three more:

8. Who didn't you list that you should have? Is there anyone you'd like to, but can't? Say something cryptic about them.

9. Name one thing that fascinates you about each of these people.

10. And something that irritates you...

11. Name three people you really dislike:

12. Anybody you'd like to name that you can't mention publicly? Say something cryptic about them.

13. Tell me something you admire about each of the dislike people. Yes, you have to. Why doesn't that override the dislike?

14. What is your favorite color? Do you know why?

15. What is something about yourself that you secretly think is pretty sexy?

16. What is something about yourself that you secretly worry is pretty repulsive?

17. What is something about me that you secretly think is pretty sexy? Or at least attractive? ;)

18. I'm not gonna ask the opposite. Instead, tell me a memory you have involving music.

19. Imagine yourself married. Do you see someone you know as your spouse, or someone imaginary? Do you like this fantasy? Does it discomfort you?

20. Tell me a story about a time when you were truly frightened.

21. What's something you wish you knew how to do, but don't?

22. What are you most likely to be famous for?

23. What do you think influences your daily life the most: your parents' financial situation or their relationship to each other?

24. Do you have a religious or spiritual outlook? Where did you get it? What about it do you think is particularly engaging?

25. Do you like to dance? When did you last dance?

26. Who is the first person you remember being sexually attracted to?

27. Describe the last person that caught your eye in a crowd (in a good way).

28. Describe the last person that caught your eye in a crowd (in a bad way).

29. How do you feel when faced with a homeless person soliciting money? What is your emotional reaction? What thoughts go through your head?

30. Are these questions difficult? What would you like to ask me in retaliation?

31. If you were going to name your child after a literary character, who would it be and why?

32. What's the last book you read? What did you think of it?

33. What is your favorite fruit?

34. Tell me a story about one of your cousins.

35. Who is a person you still wince when you think about? It can be for any reason.

36. Is there anything that is consistently irresistable to you? Can you imagine a situation in which you would not find this attractive?

37. Tell me a secret. It can be a current one, or an old one, but at some point the secretiveness of this should have mattered to you.

38. If you could erase one of your own memories, would you? Why or why not?

39. What about one of somebody else's?

40. Describe a beautiful landscape that you have seen. Or a beautiful sky.

41. Do you like eggs?

42. How many of your answers were true?

A Month in Review

Wow, it's truly been far too long since I posted last, as some faithful readers have pointed out. My apologies!

I'm not sure where to start, but in the past month I have:

*Visited Harvard Divinity School and accepted their offer of admission for the fall. (Yikes!)
*Entertained various guests, including Liz.
*Turned 24 (that yesterday)!
*Read lots of books, including A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain, My Brother is Getting Arrested Again by Daisy Fried (my former poetry teacher, who recognized me when I went to her reading!), A Woman Like That by lots of people, The People of Paper by Salvador Plascencia (one of the weirdest books ever, in terms of structure and layout, and in lots of other ways too. Interesting, though), and I know I am missing some in the middle here... or I think I am... but more recently, Close Range: Wyoming Stories by Annie Proulx (including Brokeback Mountain, a really interesting but sometimes overwhelmingly bleak collection) and The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi, who graduates from college this year.
*Thought about many things, tried to worry less and do more, wrote a bunch of poems, some better than others.
*Cleaned about half my room.
*Celebrated Easter at home with my family.

Hmmm. That's boring. I've decided list posts are not too fun! I will be more descriptive, and hopefully more prolific, now that I have resumed posting!

;)

March 20th is a Special Day

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday, dear Professor Dilexi.
Happy Birthday to you.

I suppose an appropriate birthday choice would be cake or death, but is that really a door one wants to open with the Professor?

I think it is not. Life-sustaining balloons and adulterously smeared frosting to all of you.

St. Patrick's Day at a Club

Well, even though I'm two books behind, I figure you all might want to hear about something other than my reading habits. These past two weeks have been insane, but last night was fun and interesting. Rachel and I went to Pure, which is a club we first found when we went to see Shut Up and Dance last year. I really liked it, because it reminded me a bit of Trexx, the gay club I cut my teeth on back home with Bekah and Morgan. I think it mostly reminded me of Trexx in that it was ostensibly gay but had a good mix of people (though this time the gay/maleness was more pronounced, I think), played good dance music, and... that's about it, I guess.

But anyway, I finally got to wear the exciting black corset top that I'd gotten with Liz... in October, I think, and a black and gold skirt, and just so I didn't look too much like every other girl showing off her breasts and her legs, I wore my gold sneakers and (to celebrate St. Patrick's Day) a little green turtle pin and a tiny sparkly St. Patrick's Day hat that my mom had sent me, which Rachel helped me attach to my sleeve with a safety pin. Oh, and green eyeshadow for St. Pat's Day, too, though I probably would have worn it anyway, since I'm feeling rather enamored of that eyeshadow lately. And Rachel wore this sort of pinstriped tube top she has... which probably gives a slightly wrong picture of it, but I'm not sure how to describe it... and this great skirt which is blue with gold and silver sequins all over it. Which I just realized is funny, because at some point she didn't like sequiny things, I thought. Anyway, though, it's neat. And she also wore her new silver high-top sneakers.

When we finally completed our outfits and got to Pure, it was almost totally deserted. Apparently things don't pick up there until 1:30 or 2, even though it closes at 3. There's also a bizarre membership system which we did not understand, but only members can buy drinks. That's ok, though, because neither of us wanted to buy drinks anyway. Though, retrospectively, I bet we could have if we wanted to. Unless there was some card showing or different identifying marks that the members had, I don't know. But anyway, we didn't really know what to do and so we hung around, and talked about maybe leaving and coming back, but didn't, and we went upstairs and checked out al the different rooms and areas of the club, which actually has a pretty cool layout. I think I like the place, though this time I did feel the maleness of it more, as I said before. Not that there weren't a good number of women there... I don't quite know how to describe it. Oh, and I ran into Randi upstairs. Which was perfectly surreal, because I'd had this feeling right before I saw her that I was going to run into Randi. And there she was. So we exchanged friendly-yet-slightly-awkward pleasantries, and then I saw her later on the dance floor and we waved at each other. I mean, I guess it wasn't a big surprise, given that I know Randi likes to go out and live it up, and this was a hotspot for... shall we say LGBTQ activity, so I could put two and two together and figure I might see the most partying T I know at the party. Well, the only T I know. Well, anyway, it was weird. I mean, who likes to run into people from work while enjoying the nightlife? Though there are definitely worse people to run into. After we sat around upstairs near Randi for a little bit, we went back down... to a still mostly dead room. Before the dancing started, I thought I was going to go nuts just standing there. A few people would start dancing, and then it would all fall apart again, and there would just be this one weird guy wandering around the dance floor... not dancing, just sort of walking. Oh, and while we were hanging around to the side of the dance floor, this friendly but odd Latino (I think) guy named Neville (I think!) came up to us and danced with us and welcomed us effusively to Pure, saying that we should dance and do whatever our hearts feel and that if "they" didn't like it, "fuck the faggots" and to remember his face and that he loved females and had great respect for females and his mother was a female and she had him, so he and females were like this, and he made some gesture of solidarity, and enjoined us again to dance and do whatever we wanted, and welcomed us again, and said if anyone gave us any trouble we should find him. And he asked our names and kissed our hands, individually and then together, and went back to whatever he had been doing prior to this. Oh, and one seemingly straight man on the street, one muscular man acting as proxy for his boyfriend in speaking to us, one transvestite (also on the street), and one very old dancing man at the club, all complimented Rachel's skirt. Ladies, remember, the lesson is: blue with sequins = man magnet. Maybe mostly gay man magnet, but still.

Oh, so finally I got Rachel onto the little upper dance floor with me, even though the music wasn't that great. But the advantage was that a) people were dancing there, b) it was smaller so that it took less to fill the space in a satisfactory way, and c) one of the two most fascinating people at the club was dancing in there. She was this girl in a green man's shirt with short but stylish hair and a tie, and she was unbelievably hot. Like, took my attention away from every single man in the place hot. Maddie, she reminded me a lot of that one in If These Walls Could Talk II, and was definitely that hot. So I sort of danced hopefully near her for awhile, but she took no notice of me, so we went down to the other dance floor with the good music and started dancing there, and I feel, personally, that we were responsible for getting the party started, because from the time we started dancing, the number and mix of people dancing just steadily increased until we left.

The dancing was great! It was so good to dance, and I love that music for dancing. I love that giddy rising feeling of delight that comes into me when I am just dancing and not thinking about anything and letting my body go, and I love watching other people dance, especially the unexpected ones. I was particularly pleased by this old man who danced all around by himself. His dancing was kind of odd, but he gave me joy and courage because of his joy and courage in his own body. I also liked this eminently ordinary looking woman... like, ordinary face, ordinary hair, ordinary body, middle aged (I think, maybe a little younger), wearing just a plain shirt and jeans and sneakers, who was really into dancing. Then... I saw the other most fascinating person in the club. He was a tall black man and he had two small white scarves, although actually I might better call them little flags, because they were sort of stiff and attached to something that helped him get a hold of them, I think. Anyway, he danced with these scarves and it was incredible. I was just utterly captivated. It was so, so incredibly beautiful and amazing and fascinating. I was dancing a good distance away to give him room, but I felt like I was dancing with him, because all my movements were just naturally in reaction to his. I feel like maybe everyone felt that way, too. I felt so much more free and poetic in my movements and let my body just sort of flow in a much more creative way, because somehow I couldn't feel self-conscious while such a beautiful thing was going on. He just whirled the scarves all around... I don't know how to describe it. Enthralling, just enthralling. I think if I'd actually gotten a chance to dance with him and those scarves I'd either have danced better than I ever have in my life or just fainted or something. ;) Anyway, it was great.

So, after quite some time we got tired and took a break, and this man leaning on the wall next to me struck up a conversation. Turns out he's Hispanic, in fact from Chile, and so we started talking in Spanish. That was really exciting; it felt great to speak Spanish. And he was repeatedly complimentary of my Spanish and my accent... he said I had pretty pronunciation, and really, since I'm actually quite self-conscious about my accent, that was all he needed to say to have my attention for at least a little while. He invited me to dance and I said yes. The thing was, he was pretty old. I mean, not old. But old for me. I don't know how old, but I would say between 35-40. I mean he was handsome, quite handsome actually... but. So, I was having a really good time and all, but I started to hope that he understood that this was definitely a platonic relationship, something that's hard to get across when you're grinding on a dance floor. But I tried to keep moving and keep intimate moments brief. Rachel was dancing with us too, and there was this weird guy on drugs who was grabbing everyone, including me once and her twice, and she slapped him across the face and he went away. The moment of the slap was kind of fascinating. It was just a huge crack, like in the movies, and then he stumbled around confused and left. Anyway, so after a bit more dancing I was exhausted, and we went upstairs and sat there chatting for awhile. Which was ok, but began to be sort of stretched thin like conversation gets with someone you don't really know. At least it does if you're me and tired. ;) We engaged in chit-chat, switching fluidly between Spanish and English, and he asked for my number so that we could continue to talk in Spanish. I gave it to him, hoping he meant what he said and deciding to sort it out later. Then he asked me to go dance in the other little room, so we did, but that got weird. It was super crowded, and these guys were, in my opinion, basically having clothed sex on the wall next to us. Like, pressed right flush against each other and writhing, with these strained expressions of exertion and pleasure on their faces... well, it was a bit much for me. Especially I was struggling to keep everything not too sexy with my senor (insert tilda over the n, I don't know where to get it.) And he seemed to be getting more sexy, sliding down my body (in a non-touching way) and then touching my hair and my head. That was kind of the last straw for me. I don't know why, but touching my hair just seems very intimate for a stranger. It's interesting, the whole thing is interesting, because the style of dancing is just so very sexualized, that I for some reason am pretty comfortable wedging my legs together with some stranger and bobbing up and down, or pressing ass-to-groin and grinding, but pulling my head close and stroking my hair? That was too much. It was curious. So I excused myself, and we said our goodbyes, with perfunctory cheek kisses that I carefully kept perfunctory, and left.

Which brings me to another set of observations. One: I am a foreign man magnet. In the past year five men have made some kind of advance toward me, even if it was only sustained for an evening. Two Americans, yes, but also one Italian, one Indian, and one Chilean man. Interesting. I don't know why this is. Two: In clubs, I often get in these moods where I really want to pick someone up, and I have this sort of aimless sexual energy. I attract a man and pick him up, and we start talking/dancing/flirting. I get bored. I start to feel like it's weird. I want to disengage myself from his company. He just wants it to go on and on. Finally, I have to deliberately remove myself from the situation. Hopefully, this is because I am not super interested in these particular men... not some strange sexual hang up or something like that. I think it's really the former, but it struck me this time as a pattern.

Anyway... I had fun. It was a good St. Patrick's Day celebration. And I still managed to get up today and get to Wayne with Rachel, where I bought a giant stuffed turtle, rose petal soap, and earrings.

:)

Others See Us

... is a book I really enjoyed. But this is not a book post, though I should make one soon. Instead, you can puzzle over a big box of adjectives, and pick the ones you like for me. http://kevan.org/johari?name=Becky%20F It's interesting... so far I think I basically agree with everyone, but it's interesting to see what different folks perceive, including me.

Twelfth Book: A Girl Named Disaster

I got this book, which is by Nancy Farmer, in the 10-books-for-a-dollar batch in the NYC library, and for some reason I tried to begin reading it several times and kept getting caught up in other books. As you can see, I finally began and finished it! I picked it because I've read two other books by Nancy Farmer (The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm and The House of the Scorpion,) and enjoyed them both very much. The House of the Scorpion was especially powerful for me, because I read it at a time when I was feeling abandoned and betrayed, and the main character goes through an extraordinary abandonment/betrayal.

In a lot of ways, in a completely different story, A Girl Named Disaster deals with the same themes. It was a powerful story, and a pretty fascinating look at an alien (in the earthly sense, which I feel I should clarify since Farmer does write science fiction sometimes!) culture. Also an exciting "surivival" story. Great if you want a decently quick, engaging read with a very empowering message.

Eleventh Book: The Great Divorce

My mom sent me this one, out of the blue. She's been sending good books lately! The Great Divorce is by my old friend C.S. Lewis, and though it is not for children or really that much like Narnia, I recognized and relaxed into his familiar style right away. I have said many times that Lewis, in The Last Battle gives the only version/description of Hell that I am able to understand and fit into the context of a loving God. The Great Divorce, interestingly enough, is also a sort of supposal, like the Chronicles, and in it, Lewis recounts a dream he has had about Heaven and Hell. It's fascinating. He does not disappoint, nor does he lose the distinction I just mentioned. I am fascinated, in fact, to read more of his theology. I think it's so interesting, because he is definitely (as far as I know) considered a fairly orthodox Christian writer, but his theology seems (to me) quite mystical. Not that mysticism precludes orthodoxy, but it's interesting. To tie in with my last post, he also mentioned Julian of Norwich. ;) But anyway, while absolutely affirming the idea of Hell, he also leaves it open as to whether anyone will be there forever. He leaves a lot open, in fact, while being absolutely convinced of the ultimate, all-encompassing good of God, and the need to turn toward Him.

There are some quotes I marked to put in here... I will do that when I'm at home and have the book to hand.

In the meantime, I am very enthusiastic about this book, and I want to read more of what my old friend has to say. He's one of those people of whom I wonder whether he would like me/think me talented/approve of my work. Just as a by-the-by. And to close, if you're looking for some very readable theology, give him a shot. I think I will seek out some more. And thank you, C. S. Lewis, for being so honest and interesting.

Tenth Book: The Illuminator

Wow, I've gotten a bit behind on these. This one is by Brenda Rickman Vantrease. I'd been intrigued by it for awhile, but the deal was clinched when I realized Julian of Norwich was a character in the book!

It was basically good, with interesting characters and a plot that really surprised me... I didn't guess where it was going at all. My favorites, I think, were the more minor characters Half-Tom and Magda. But really, most of the characters were engaging, except for some of the more cardboard villains, and at least one cardboard good person, too, in my opinion. I sort of think you should read it, Katie, because the main female character is named Kathryn! I think, too, that it might be the kind of story you would enjoy. On the less positive side, there was some clumsy writing. I would have liked to see more of Julian of Norwich, too, but it's hard to write about actually historical folks and make it work, I think. Not that it didn't work, I just have such a high opinion of Julian that it would be hard to write about her in a way that I thought was doing her justice.

Ok, I think that's all about this for now. Definitely worth reading, if sometimes flawed. :)

More About Me?

My Personal Dna Report


You can figure out if you see me as I see me, too! Or something like that.

http://personaldna.com/psychyou-psychme.php?for=1b87459b6238

This Would Be Entirely Self-Pitying, Were it Not for the Matter of the Opera

Well, I forgot about this.

The part where Hell Week always has at least one day or evening or whatever that is, actually, hellish. I'm sure it's just superstition, but it did hold true for most years at Bryn Mawr. And then there was last night. Really, I don't know what was wrong with me last night... and isn't that the worst? Just this feeling of anxiety that has no clear root and doesn't seem to go anywhere no matter how many times you remind yourself that, in fact, there is no impending doom. Not a full-blown panic attack or anything, just this feeling where you can't sit still, but you can't quite start doing anything, because it's totally unclear what needs to be done, but totally clear that there are many important things that must happen, and probably should have started happening a long time ago.

Add to this that for some reason I was suddenly much less attractive yesterday than I had been in several days. I looked strange and full of bulges, and my face was abruptly much less pleasant to look at, and I noticed the slight differences in the way I walk. Isn't it odd how perception can change in a flash? I'd been very pleased with my appearance for several days preceeding yesterday.

Add to this that Cristina may or may not be coming tonight, and she's had a really hard week. So I really want to be present to her and help, but I'm afraid I'll stay in Weird Stressland, and there's this selfish part of me that is afraid now I won't get my own crap done, getting ready for Friday, etc. Even though in truth I want to be with her. Feelings are so damn complicated. And when we got home last night she had left this message telling me that she wasn't going to work tomorrow, but she might still want to come today, and she was crying the whole time... and I really wanted to call her back, but she'd said she was going to bed, so I didn't. I think one of the problems is that whenever I think about this whole situation and I can't be with her I feel anxious and agitated and helpless. I mean, that's inevitable. When I can be with her I feel much stronger, much more certain and open and clear. So, we'll see, but goddammit. I wish I could fix it. I really do.

Add to this that I got a thin little letter from Cornell saying that I was not accepted to their English department, but they're sure I'll have a fine career anyway. I really thought I'd get in there. I also thought I'd get in to Duke. I don't know why, but I was much more worried about getting in to other schools. So now, I have this horrible feeling that I did all my applications wrong in some indefinable way and I won't get in anywhere. My mom and Liz will be disappointed that I'm not coming back close to home, though maybe it's good. I guess I have to trust that it's good, and that I'll end up somewhere right for me, just like at Bryn Mawr. But ugh. I hate hearing no. I hate the slippery hold I sometimes have on confidence and faith.

Add to this that we're trying to clean the apartment by Friday, a task I really applaud and want to do, but which is sure to lead to at least a few bouts of paralysis. I get so... irrationally fearful of actually dealing with the messiness. As though somehow that will actually make it worse, or prove that it is impossible to fix. Not helped by the fact that putting liquid plumr (or however that odd thing is spelled) in my toliet made the contents of it it bubble, turn green, and come this close to overflowing all over my feet (which circumstance was staved off my frantic plunging) before just sitting there. That is really not what I was hoping for in my efforts to clear the clog. I mean, actually we got a lot done in the living room. By which I mean that Rachel got a lot done and I put some decorations away, but still. It's a great start. I just have trouble seeing it.

I think that's all there is to add at the moment, but this morning I was just... dreading everything, especially the part where I left the house and went to work. I stumbled down the stairs and had my first shock of pleasure when I saw that there was still a cluster of people at the bus stop-- I hadn't missed it! I hurried over to join them, and there he was. This middle aged black man, casually dressed in jeans and work boots and a sensible, dark, puffy winter coat, with a stubbly almost-beard, carrying one of those little tape recorders, the flat ones about the size of a hardcover book, playing opera. Beautiful opera music shared with everyone! Well, I'm sure everyone didn't love it, but I did. I loved this crazy image of all of us just standing around waiting for the bus while this music floated all around us. I loved the music. It made me smile, this sudden spontaneous smile, and he was smiling too... and well, here I am at work, and I don't really feel that much more together or confident or anything. But I am going to try to remember the opera...

Keep in Mind

A mis-overheard statement of Bob, the group seller, to someone on the phone:

"Then again, they're sports, and we're theater, you must keep that in mind... we're also amusing."

(I realize now it was "music" not "amusing," but still. Isn't that great?)

Ninth Book: World of Wonders

My goodness, in finishing that other monstruous post, I almost forgot that I finished another book the other day. World of Wonders, the last in the Deptford trilogy by Robertson Davies.

It was really good and exciting, like the others, but I think somehow I'm a little disappointed at how they all fit together. Maybe I was just left with too many unanswered questions? I don't know.

But the characters were really great, and I love Dunstan Ramsay, and enjoyed learning about Paul Dempster's history, though it wasn't at all what I expected. However, I really want to know what happened to David... I think this post will be extra short, to contrast with my extra long Valentine's Day post.

Happy Valentine's Day to Me... and to You. :)

I think it started when I was walking home from the gym on Monday. It felt great to exercise, and I felt suddenly healthier and more capable in the world. Then, as I was walking home, I saw the most beautiful silver-white moon against a dark blue sky. And spindly trees stretching up to touch it. It felt wonderful. I was suddenly at peace, and happy to be by myself, experiencing this lovely night.

I had been feeling some trepidiation about Valentine's Day. I'd been in a generally gray mood lately, quick to self-pity and slow to relaxation. And the thing is, I've never, never been one to complain about Valentine's Day. I like it, and I'm always remembered, even if it's never been romantically meant. But this year... I was feeling complainy. Rachel has a girlfriend, and my other friends are occupied on Tuesday nights, or not at all in the area. I was getting antsy about the idea of being alone. Quite frankly, I thought maybe the day might suck, and I was rather displeased with myself for joining the ranks of the alone-on-Valentine's complainers. But, as it approached, I began to notice how much care I was getting from all different sources. Two adorable cards from my mom, a present from Jeff (her boyfriend), a really hilarious card from Bekah, a card from my aunt and uncle (who always remember me on Valentine's Day), the promise of mail from Katie (which has now come! a wonderful, thoughtful card), and really beautiful and tender cards from Rachel, too. I've never really done much for Valentine's Day in terms of gifts or cards for others, and it touched me that all these people would be so thoughtful and kind and loving to me.

So, on the lovely walk home on Monday, I decided I would take myself out for Valentine's Day, and buy myself a present. I was thinking about comfortable and sexy lingerie, as I have none. I thought maybe I would also take myself to dinner, and see if anything else appealed to me, like seeing a movie or some kind of event. I also had this sudden and striking thought, in the way that sometimes words just appear in your head... that I had no idea what my romantic life would hold. I had no idea who I would end up loving in that way... it could be a man, as I have mostly assumed and sought, but it could also be a woman, which seems oddly more possible (in terms of my own internal compass) now that I am not at Bryn Mawr... it could even, though it's hard for me to imagine, be more than one person... anything was possible. But whatever it will be, the fact that it hasn't started yet is not a judgement on me... it just means there's a surprise coming, and knowing now would ruin the surprise. I don't know where this idea came from, but it was very clear and it felt very good.

Then, Valentine's Day itself started out fine. Almost everyone in the office wore red or pink, which was very pleasing. And I got a valentine from Courtney, with whom I don't even interact that much. But the highlight of the work portion of my day came when we were supposed to have a staff meeting, and instead we had a nice lunch/Valentine's party, courtesy of DeVida. It was yummy and exciting.

Throughout the day, I browsed online for activities and events happening in the evening, and I found this thing called Night of a Thousand Plays. Basically, it was many many little tiny plays (though not actually 1,000) all performed one after the other, by different groups of actors. I was kind of intrigued, though I had no idea whether this format would actually work for me. But they had a half price Valentine's Day special, and I decided to print out the coupon and see if I felt like going when it came time. Meanwhile, I was talking online to this man who had messaged me while I was messing around on Okcupid, with whom I had hit it off decently in our brief conversation... and I mentioned the show, and he seemed interested. So I invited him. And he said yes. Boom, Valentine's Day date. :) I was so surprised! We decided to meet for dinner and he gave me his number and his name (Swami, short for something really really long and Indian).

The plan we made was that I would go to the theater after work and try to pick up the tickets. I did, but the box office was not yet open. So I called him and we set a time to meet for dinner. Of course, there wasn't time to go home and change. Happily, I was wearing a new red skirt and nice shirt, but less happily, I was wearing my very very beat up and scuffed snow boots. I haven't bought new ones yet because I can get spendthrifty about shoes and clothes and I figured, hey, they're still workable. Which they are. But last night, I was suddenly very self-conscious and worried about them. So I found a shoe store, and went in. The cheapest shoes I found in there were over $100, and most were $300 or $400. Um, no. I'm even used to more high end shoes, or so I thought, because my foot is sometimes hard to fit. But PLEASE. What could they possible have done to a few pieces of nice leather or whatever to make it worth $300? NOTHING, at least not from where I and my bank account stand. So I got out of there, beginning to despair of my shoe changing plan... when I turned a corner and saw an Aerosoles shoe store! I went in, and found lovely little red suede boots, with tassels, in my size, for $30. So I bought them. And some tan trouser socks. And popped over to the McDonald's bathroom to change them, stuffing my mismatched cotton socks and scuffed up boots into the Aerosoles bag. Feeling new and spiffy, I hurried out to meet Swami by 6:30.

When I arrived at the appointed corner, at first I saw only an old man. But then I caught sight of a young man on the opposite side of the road, surveying everyone who passed. We ascertained our mutual identities and he came over to my side of the street. To my delight, he was handsome! He had dark, full, wavy hair and beautiful dark eyes with long eyelashes. He gave me a hug hello, which was interesting to me, because I had been debating between a hug and a handshake. We headed down the street to a little Italian restaurant right across from the theater, and got seats even though we didn't have a reservation. It was a really pretty, cozy place, and all the waitstaff were very friendly.

We talked throughout the meal about various things. He's really smart. I mean, he's about to get his PhD from Penn in physics (he'll be done in December) and he's only 25. Apparently in India he just had this really driven life and had to go go go all the time... and now that he's here, he's sort of sick of science and he doesn't really want to keep on with it as a career. He's more interested in the artistic arena, apparently, and tried many things before he settled on this improvisational jazz thing that he does. He plays percussion. But it's funny how I could notice his scientific training coming through in his way of perceiving and noticing things. For example, there was a candle on our table, and we were watching the light come through the candleholder and splinter into little points on the tabletop. And suddenly he tells me that he did a project on why light does that in just that way. It was kind of fascinating. He also told me that he loved to play with fire as a child and he has little scars on his hands from it. Which sounds like he's way more edgy than he mostly seemed, and I'd almost forgotten that until I wrote it down here.

We also talked about adjusting to a new culture, and movies... he asked if I thought he should see Brokeback Mountain, and of course I responded enthusiastically in the affirmative, and then that led to an interesting discussion of how he has trouble connecting emotionally to gay stories. He basically said that he can understand and accept it intellectually, but emotionally he hasn't made that connection. So... I tried to indicate how connected I am to such matters without exactly saying "some of my best friends are gay." Though that's basically what I said, because even though it sounds silly, it's absolutely true. And he hastily assured me that he lived in an "artists' house" and that most of the time when they had parties there were gay people making out all over the place... though it didn't seem he was entirely comfortable with this. Yet, he could hardly be entirely uncomfortable or he wouldn't have brought up Brokeback Mountain, I suppose. Anyway, we had a pretty lively talk about the movie, and how I really thought he should see it because I think it's ideal for making exactly that emotional connection. He expressed some skepticism about "Oscar movies" in general, which I found a bit pretentious, but you can't win 'em all, right? This discussion led me to ask about cultural differences in this area of thought between India and the US, and he said that, because men and women were mostly kept apart until marriage, the bonds between male friends there are much more at the level of intimacy that is expected between female friends here. I think this is really interesting, though it makes me wonder if he had much contact with women his own age before coming here.

We also talked quite a bit about the intellect, and what kind of importance it has to us, or has had in the past... he said that for his whole life he has been so focused on the intellect as the paramount thing, but now he realizes that it is not the most important thing, and he really wants to branch out and explore other parts of himself. It's funny, because he's obviously excellent in an academic environment, but I got this strong sense of him being, more than anything, sick of it. I told him about my decision to take time off after Bryn Mawr. I think, in a lot of ways, he's in a similar mental place now as I was then, even though he's light years ahead in terms of the schooling he has finished. Although from how he speaks, his work in physics is never going to be his life commitment, or even his job beyond a few money making years. He said something about wanting to work for a few years and save up money to do something else, like open a restaurant. That surprised me, since he also said he didn't like/know how to cook. So I don't know what's up with that. Really, it seemed like his real love was this percussion/improvisation/free jazz thing. I find this kind of fascinating, because I can see that trait in him (starting with the fact that he was often drumming with his fingers and working out a rhythm in pauses in conversation, especially in the theater and once we were out of the restaurant). According to him, he just decided that science was not his thing (which continues to astonish me, given how far he's going with it), and that he wished to engage artisticially. He then tried writing and painting, among other things, and finally hit on his affinity for music. Maybe this is baffling to me because I had my strongest affinities from a very young age... the first thing I was going to be was an actress who writes her own plays. And, the way Swami tells it, he was all science science science, and then one day decided art was it for him, instead. It's a very different sort of experience.

He asked me lots of questions, but I think I did the same. There were a few awkward pauses, but less than you might expect for two total strangers. Overall, I really enjoyed it. He was an interesting combination of being rather shy-seeming and a little deferent (sp??) on the one hand, and being sort of suddenly extremely committed to his opinion (the Oscar movie thing, for example). And dinner was quite excellent. I had lobster ravioli, and he had some kind of other seafood/pasta dish. Oh, this was kind of odd- at the beginning of the meal, when we were looking at the menus, I asked him if he wanted to get wine. He responded right away by saying he didn't drink. I said ok. Then he said I could get it if I wanted to, of course. Then he said he would have wine if I picked one for him that wasn't too strong. He said he was happy to try things but he didn't like them too strong. So I picked cabernet sauvingnon for myself, and then asked the waitress if she had a suggestion for a sweeter, less dry wine. She seemed very confused about what I was asking, for some reason, and finally pointed one out that said "dry" in the description. So I had no idea what was going on there, and I decided to order him chardonnay, since I find that sweet and in general white is sweeter and more palatable to less enthusiastic wine drinkers than red. I don't know if he liked it. He ate like a bird... only about half his entree (I find many restaurant entrees big, but this was just the right size, to me) and maybe half of his wine. I polished off my whole entree and my whole glass of wine, which, just to give you a picture, came in a glass the size of my head. I mean, it was not full, of course. But his came in this tiny, delicate wine glass. I know it's something I would understand if I knew more about wine, but it was odd. I had the briefest moment of being insecure about my dramatically larger appetite, but it passed quickly. I was hungry, and I decided to be ok with that. :-) I think it was interesting (word of the day, sorry), too, that were had this sort of odd back and forth in who took what kind of role in the evening. I mean, I invited him, made the plans, ordered his wine, and paid for his theater ticket. He, on the other hand, carried my shopping bag, paid for dinner, stood on the bus behind me instead of sitting somewhere else, and initiated all of the (awkwardly executed yet warm and pleasant) cuddling that took place during the play. So I don't know. I probably wouldn't be this obsessed with it if I didn't worry a little that he will suddenly turn into a real partriarchal type. Or, to be honest, that the cultural differences between us mean that he has expectations of women of which I'm fundamentally unaware. Well, who knows, I guess.

By the end of our dinner he'd expressed interest in my theological leanings (I told him about applying to grad school), and we discussed my thesis briefly. He latched onto the idea and said he could tell me about parallel situations in Indian religion and mythology. I'm super excited about that. I tried to explain it carefully and well, without assuming that he had or didn't have a base knowledge about Christianity. I can't wait to see what ideas he has about it...

Anyway, we finished up our dinner, and headed out. The waitress came running after me to give me a rose, which apparently she was supposed to bring to the table! I was thrilled! A pretty red rose, just for me, just because it was Valentine's Day and I was a woman and there. :-) Though I've also been thinking lately how men must sometimes feel less special than women, overall. I mean, I won't say that women don't still get the raw end of the deal, because we do, and I would trade being coddled for being powerful any day... but still. On Lost, there was this part with two men talking about the possible destruction of an Iraqi village in the first Gulf War. And the one said to the other, think of everyone who will be killed. Innocent women, children. And I thought, what about innocent men? What does it say that men are consistently told that women are somehow more "precious" than they are? I'm not saying I don't understand the concept of "women and children first," or whatever, but just as it is destructive to women to assume that we are inherantly sweet and innocent, it is destructive to men to assume that they are inherantly not, or that women have some kind of uncorrupted innocence/worth that men must seek to protect even at the expense of themselves, because men are powerful, and therefore not innocent. My dad said that as a kid he hated hearing that girls were "sugar and spice and everything nice" and boys were "snakes and snails and puppy dog's tails." He didn't understand why he didn't get to be nice things, too. Bah, the whole dualistic hierarchical gender system hurts everybody!

But that was a loooooong soapboxy tangent. I was delighted with my rose. Let's go back to that. ;-) We went to the show, and I insisted on paying for his ticket (it was, after all, still much less than the meal). It was at the Adrienne, in this space called the Playground, which was a really nice little theater. I wanted to sit front and center, and he was startlingly adamant about sitting back (and side, which I thought would be the worst view), and we agreed at last to sit back and center. I wasn't sure why this was such an important thing to him, like, we were looking around and i was like, well, we could sit up front, and he was like, no. Back. It was odd. Aggressive reticence? I don't know.

The play was good. I know if you've made it this far you probably are getting a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information in this post, but it was, and I feel I should say something about it, too, not just my date. For the first couple of little three minute (or so) bits, I wasn't sure if it would be good. Then either I wrapped my head around the format or they hit their stride or both. There was one that was basically ruined because for some reason one of the young women was on book, which was utterly distracting for us, for her, and for the other actors. And there were a bunch that fell flat. But there were also wonderfully hilarious ones, especially as the evening wore on. There was one that reminded me a lot of Dilexi, in a way! It started with this coffee barista trying to sell coffee to a rushed man. The man kept asking for something plain, and she would offer him a ridiculously complicated list of choices. It seemed a funny, if ordinary set-up. But then, the man remained calm, and the barista got all crazy, saying that he couldn't win, and the way the sketch had to go was that she kept offering him all these pointless choices until he became overwhelmed and collapsed to the ground. And then another woman came in and she and the man started flirting, and exchanged names, and the barista was freaking out because they weren't supposed to be able to do any of this... well, it was funny and exciting. The best one, hands down, was this one about a really reserved, precise man who got into a totally unexpected sexual situation... i was so funny and so well acted. There were also a couple of songs done by this guy who apparently was the musical director of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I don't know where, but they seemed pretty proud of this, so maybe it was the original production. Anyway, he was very good.

And, true to his proclivities, I guess, it was during the musical numbers that Swami started snuggling up to me. As I said before, most of this was done rather oddly and awkwardly, but... I find him attractive, so it was nonetheless quite pleasant and I didn't mind. Though there was one moment where for some reason he started stroking my throat quite a bit, and that got weird, so I guided his hand away. But generally, aside from the awkward and abrupt way in which he intiated most of our contact, it was very gentle and nice and exploring, without being too much or going to the wrong places. And he smelled really good. ;-)

After the show we waited for the bus together, having discovered we live about three blocks apart! This got a bit long, and was the part of the evening where I was most aware of not being sure of what to talk about. But we finally got on the bus, and he stood behind me as aforementioned, and pet my head from time to time, and told me a bit about his family and also his taste in ice cream. Oh, yes, this is also when I though he was telling me something more about his grandmother's education, and I said "Wow" with a big smile, and then realized he was telling me that his grandmother had died. Whoops. That was my most awkward moment of the night. But we got over that, and when he left he bent and kissed my forehead before getting off, and we made plans to get together again sometime next week.

I was a happy camper coming home, and I put my rose in water and went online to tell people about my night... where I was promptly engaged in conversation by this other boy from Okcupid, and I found an email from a man who wanted a date for Margaret Garner (an opera I am so eager to see) saying that though he'd already gotten someone to go, I was really cute. And I still have to deal with Mark, who continues to call and email me though I haven't responded in a bit... (I know, it's not a good way to handle it. But I'm not used to this). I think that's the bottom line. This is all really great... but I'm not used to it! Apparently all of a sudden all I have to do for male attention is stretch out my hand... it's soooooooooo so so different from my previous experiences. Not that I'm complaining, but it's... weird. And I definitely want to see Swami again, but it all makes me a bit nervous as well. Like, I've gotten so used to being single I can hardly imagine what it would be like to be otherwise. Bah, I sound like I'm at least middle aged, and I'm not trying to be pretentious... but you know? It's true.

Ah, but all that aside, it was fun. It was fun fun fun and cozy and pleasant and I felt attractive and smart, even though he was definitely also attractive and probably smarter, or at least more educated. (God, at one point he was saying that he should learn a foreign language and I asked if he had studied any, and he was like, no, I just speak six Indian languages, completely serious, and I was l

Anyway, the whole thing left me grateful and happy: Grateful for my first "romantic" Valentine's Day, grateful for my truly wonderful friends and family, who are so central to my life, and grateful for the fact that I really, actually do enjoy my own company... and that I was willing to have a go at being lonely to figure that out.

:-) I wish you all the same sorts of experiences, in whatever way they work for you. And those of you who I know read this... I love you! Thank you for being in my life. It means the world.