The Most Extreme Cabinet Ever
2 hours ago
Sunday, December 31, 2006
For a long time this was my view of the game...
someone felt entitled to stand for all 4 quarters, and when kindly asked by several people, including two ushers, to please sit down, refused to acquiesce. His mother explained that she'd tried to get him to sit, but that he'd just returned home from the army and felt that he just didn't have to do anything he didn't want to...
someone felt entitled to stand for all 4 quarters, and when kindly asked by several people, including two ushers, to please sit down, refused to acquiesce. His mother explained that she'd tried to get him to sit, but that he'd just returned home from the army and felt that he just didn't have to do anything he didn't want to...
Saturday, December 30, 2006
2006: A Music Retrospective
I've been thinking, for days now, about the best way to comment on what 2006 has been, what it has meant. You know what? That's too huge a task, and I'm sure I don't really know (and may never know) all of what this year has been about. But I can discuss with some authority what the soundtrack of my life has been this past year (probably beginning with some stuff that first hit my radar in 2005, but that was in heavy rotation all this year, too). Let me be clear. I am not saying that these songs or albums were released in 2006. In most cases, not.
So, here I sit in my pajamas, drinking some chocolate truffle flavoured coffee (black) and I give you my year in music:
Jay-Z's Black Album
This collection came into my life in the Spring of 2005 and didn't leave my discman (now I have an iPod, thankfully) for months. Songs like "Justify My Thug," "Encore," and "Moment of Clarity" saw me to about a 60-pound weight loss as I walked, rocked the elliptical, etc. while I listened. For me, they expressed, in healthy ways, a lot of my own feelings of aggression. This was my mourning music. The songs were my "get over him, get over it, let it go" anthems. It helped me to listen to Jay-Z reflect on his years in "the game," the fact that the industry didn't make him, the fact that he has a hustler's spirit--that that is just intrinsic to him. But it wasn't a mere glorification of himself (though there was plenty of self-glorification on the album). It's more about a man who has achieved the satisfaction of being able to tell his detractors, "you can't affect me." It was just what I needed, then. And I find comfort in those songs, still. I don't need them like I did in '05, but they still get a lot of play.
Blackalicious's Blazing Arrow
This album was released to critical acclaim in 2002, but I discovered it, due to the magic of the shared iTunes network at work, just a few months ago. Blazing Arrow is clever, political, funny, experimental, musically sound, and uncorrupted. If you want a break from overly polished and produced rap/r&B/hip-hop--but still want something that has integrity and credibility, this collection of songs is a great place to start. In fact, I insist on it. The beats are infectious, the lyrics thought-provoking. Heck. These guys made me want to experiment with form in poetry--that's how rhythmically sound it is.
Mos Def (The New Danger , Black Star, and Black On Both Sides)
I had never heard any of Mos Def's music until this year, even though his last album (The New Danger) was released in 2004. As you can probably tell by now, I've gone through a Hip-Hop/Rap renaissance in 2006. What I appreciate about Mos is that he's that elusive combination of socially conscious/commercially successful rapper. His lyrics take some interesting chances, and he's true to the music by letting the lines between rap, rock, blues, and jazz blur. As they should. Music is a collective and it all flows from one point of origin. The more genres I steep myself in, the more I realize that music really is universal. In any case, courtesy of Sarah (who is quite the connoisseur of good rap these days), The New Danger came into my life this past summer, picking up where Jay-Z's Black Album left off. It pushed me to the next level of reflection on disenfranchisement, the state of the union, etc.
"Black on Both Sides," Mos Def's first album, is fast-paced, soulful, playful, provocative. It's just solid.
The highlight of my music-buying forays in '06 was when I took "Black Star" to the counter at Sound Garden and the cashier told me that it was the second-greatest hip-hop album of all time and the fact that I was buying it warmed his heart. There you have it.
Beth Orton (Daybreaker, mostly)
I have Pastemusic.com to thank for introducing me to Beth Orton. The song "Stars All Seem To Weep" from her album "Central Reservation" has a trippy, quasi techno beat (thanks to Ben Watt of another favourite group, Everything But The Girl) that hooked me, then the poeticism of the lyric made me want to go deeper, so I ordered several of her CDs. "Daybreaker" boasts the lovely, austere "Paris Train," "Concrete Sky," and "Mount Washington." Best lyric? For me, in "Paris Train," when she just repeats over and over in this haunting lilt, "this was inevitable, this was inevitable..."
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Prince's "The Beautiful Ones" was on heavy rotation this summer. I rediscovered this song for a reason I can't even remember, but one day I was just moved to search for and buy it from iTunes. The pathos! The drama! The no-holds-barred 'please love me, please!' plea of it all just hits me right in the chest. Look, Prince is a musical genius. If you don't agree, let's just not talk about it...
Bread's "Baby, I'm-a Want You" and "Make it with you" made me remember the earnestness of the 70s. Both of these plaintive songs are about the simple desire to be with someone. About wanting someone. And even though they are not sad songs, per se, there is something so sorrowful about that kind of candor, that kind of bald statement. I've known these songs for years, but for some reason, they've been touchstones again this year.
John Mayer's Continuum
I have loved John since "Room for Squares," though I know he released, independently, "Inside Wants Out" before that. Look. The man's musical efforts cannot be reduced to the category of pop, though there would be no shame in that. There's a lot of excellent pop out there. In any case, some of his songs have a pop feel, but he's a guitar and song man, essentially. And of course, I love and respect the John Mayer Trio, which delves into the more bluesy aspect of song and guitardom. "Continuum" came into my life right around the time my father died and the song "Stop This Train," with its simple line "I don't want to see my parents go" was just prescient. My favourite tracks on this collection are "Vultures," "Stop this Train," and "Slow Dancing In A Burning Room," in which JM incants in his smoky, sultry way "go on and cry about it, why don't you?"
Kings of Convenience, Riot On An Empty Street
I heart these unassuming Scandanavians. Acoustic, pop, and jazzy with a little electronica thrown into the mix. For my money it doesn't get any better than "The Build Up" in which they, too, realize the inherent, desolate symbolism of the train. The climax of the song is when the female vocals, jagged and smooth at the same time, break in. You need that ticket to remind you when to disembark. Gosh!
Quiet is the new loud was my introduction to them back in 2002. Check that one out, too.
N*E*R*D's "Fly or Die" deserves a mention here (could not find an interesting link) because of Pharrell William's killer hooks and out there lyrics. This album was the backdrop to all my moving drama. It's worth a listen if only for the weird song about an errant fishing trip. I listened to most of these songs going "wha....?" but truly, I kept listening. It's the kind of thing where you're like "is this good?" but you can't really stop hitting repeat.
Beck
I didn't have much exposure to beck before the shared music library thing.... I had no idea he could be so subdued and sad, which is really what I love best. "Nobody's Fault But My Own," "Guess I'm Doing Fine," and "End of the Day" are wonderfully contemplative. They encapsulate so much of what the fall of 2006 was about for me.
Favourite lyric of the year? Hands down, Lifehouse's "Everything," has the best line I've heard in a long time--this year or otherwise. "How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?" Exactly.
This song is several years old now, and I had heard it before, but this year I meditated on what that means. It makes me think about God. How could I stand here with him and not be moved, indeed? And I also thought about how many people I haven't really let myself be moved by. It made me want to pay attention.
Most personally empowering song? 32 Flavors (Alana Davis's version). It made me feel invincible while finishing up my thesis.
What am I listening to now? "Go!" The Common ditty about striking while the iron is hot (featuring John Mayer vocals as the repeating refrain), Rod Stewart's "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy," which has always seemed very urgent, yearning, and kind of raw to me... i mean, this line: "he says 'I'm sorry, but I'm out of milk and coffee...never mind, sugar, we can watch the early movie..." is just brilliant. Yes, I am quite serious.
Quick note about Rod Stewart: His musical credibility was over after the very early 80s. As soon as he released that schmaltzig "Forever Young" he was over. And he needs to stop with the jazz standards. His voice is shot. Finito. Stop, please, Rod.
And thanks to a Baltimore Sun article, I have found Icognito's Bees+Things+Flowers which covers several soulful songs, and there is the occasional anomaly, too, like America's "Tin Man," which I've always loved. That song is a postmodern masterpiece. More on that later...
I've been thinking, for days now, about the best way to comment on what 2006 has been, what it has meant. You know what? That's too huge a task, and I'm sure I don't really know (and may never know) all of what this year has been about. But I can discuss with some authority what the soundtrack of my life has been this past year (probably beginning with some stuff that first hit my radar in 2005, but that was in heavy rotation all this year, too). Let me be clear. I am not saying that these songs or albums were released in 2006. In most cases, not.
So, here I sit in my pajamas, drinking some chocolate truffle flavoured coffee (black) and I give you my year in music:
Jay-Z's Black Album
This collection came into my life in the Spring of 2005 and didn't leave my discman (now I have an iPod, thankfully) for months. Songs like "Justify My Thug," "Encore," and "Moment of Clarity" saw me to about a 60-pound weight loss as I walked, rocked the elliptical, etc. while I listened. For me, they expressed, in healthy ways, a lot of my own feelings of aggression. This was my mourning music. The songs were my "get over him, get over it, let it go" anthems. It helped me to listen to Jay-Z reflect on his years in "the game," the fact that the industry didn't make him, the fact that he has a hustler's spirit--that that is just intrinsic to him. But it wasn't a mere glorification of himself (though there was plenty of self-glorification on the album). It's more about a man who has achieved the satisfaction of being able to tell his detractors, "you can't affect me." It was just what I needed, then. And I find comfort in those songs, still. I don't need them like I did in '05, but they still get a lot of play.
Blackalicious's Blazing Arrow
This album was released to critical acclaim in 2002, but I discovered it, due to the magic of the shared iTunes network at work, just a few months ago. Blazing Arrow is clever, political, funny, experimental, musically sound, and uncorrupted. If you want a break from overly polished and produced rap/r&B/hip-hop--but still want something that has integrity and credibility, this collection of songs is a great place to start. In fact, I insist on it. The beats are infectious, the lyrics thought-provoking. Heck. These guys made me want to experiment with form in poetry--that's how rhythmically sound it is.
Mos Def (The New Danger , Black Star, and Black On Both Sides)
I had never heard any of Mos Def's music until this year, even though his last album (The New Danger) was released in 2004. As you can probably tell by now, I've gone through a Hip-Hop/Rap renaissance in 2006. What I appreciate about Mos is that he's that elusive combination of socially conscious/commercially successful rapper. His lyrics take some interesting chances, and he's true to the music by letting the lines between rap, rock, blues, and jazz blur. As they should. Music is a collective and it all flows from one point of origin. The more genres I steep myself in, the more I realize that music really is universal. In any case, courtesy of Sarah (who is quite the connoisseur of good rap these days), The New Danger came into my life this past summer, picking up where Jay-Z's Black Album left off. It pushed me to the next level of reflection on disenfranchisement, the state of the union, etc.
"Black on Both Sides," Mos Def's first album, is fast-paced, soulful, playful, provocative. It's just solid.
The highlight of my music-buying forays in '06 was when I took "Black Star" to the counter at Sound Garden and the cashier told me that it was the second-greatest hip-hop album of all time and the fact that I was buying it warmed his heart. There you have it.
Beth Orton (Daybreaker, mostly)
I have Pastemusic.com to thank for introducing me to Beth Orton. The song "Stars All Seem To Weep" from her album "Central Reservation" has a trippy, quasi techno beat (thanks to Ben Watt of another favourite group, Everything But The Girl) that hooked me, then the poeticism of the lyric made me want to go deeper, so I ordered several of her CDs. "Daybreaker" boasts the lovely, austere "Paris Train," "Concrete Sky," and "Mount Washington." Best lyric? For me, in "Paris Train," when she just repeats over and over in this haunting lilt, "this was inevitable, this was inevitable..."
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Prince's "The Beautiful Ones" was on heavy rotation this summer. I rediscovered this song for a reason I can't even remember, but one day I was just moved to search for and buy it from iTunes. The pathos! The drama! The no-holds-barred 'please love me, please!' plea of it all just hits me right in the chest. Look, Prince is a musical genius. If you don't agree, let's just not talk about it...
Bread's "Baby, I'm-a Want You" and "Make it with you" made me remember the earnestness of the 70s. Both of these plaintive songs are about the simple desire to be with someone. About wanting someone. And even though they are not sad songs, per se, there is something so sorrowful about that kind of candor, that kind of bald statement. I've known these songs for years, but for some reason, they've been touchstones again this year.
John Mayer's Continuum
I have loved John since "Room for Squares," though I know he released, independently, "Inside Wants Out" before that. Look. The man's musical efforts cannot be reduced to the category of pop, though there would be no shame in that. There's a lot of excellent pop out there. In any case, some of his songs have a pop feel, but he's a guitar and song man, essentially. And of course, I love and respect the John Mayer Trio, which delves into the more bluesy aspect of song and guitardom. "Continuum" came into my life right around the time my father died and the song "Stop This Train," with its simple line "I don't want to see my parents go" was just prescient. My favourite tracks on this collection are "Vultures," "Stop this Train," and "Slow Dancing In A Burning Room," in which JM incants in his smoky, sultry way "go on and cry about it, why don't you?"
Kings of Convenience, Riot On An Empty Street
I heart these unassuming Scandanavians. Acoustic, pop, and jazzy with a little electronica thrown into the mix. For my money it doesn't get any better than "The Build Up" in which they, too, realize the inherent, desolate symbolism of the train. The climax of the song is when the female vocals, jagged and smooth at the same time, break in. You need that ticket to remind you when to disembark. Gosh!
Quiet is the new loud was my introduction to them back in 2002. Check that one out, too.
N*E*R*D's "Fly or Die" deserves a mention here (could not find an interesting link) because of Pharrell William's killer hooks and out there lyrics. This album was the backdrop to all my moving drama. It's worth a listen if only for the weird song about an errant fishing trip. I listened to most of these songs going "wha....?" but truly, I kept listening. It's the kind of thing where you're like "is this good?" but you can't really stop hitting repeat.
Beck
I didn't have much exposure to beck before the shared music library thing.... I had no idea he could be so subdued and sad, which is really what I love best. "Nobody's Fault But My Own," "Guess I'm Doing Fine," and "End of the Day" are wonderfully contemplative. They encapsulate so much of what the fall of 2006 was about for me.
Favourite lyric of the year? Hands down, Lifehouse's "Everything," has the best line I've heard in a long time--this year or otherwise. "How can I stand here with you and not be moved by you?" Exactly.
This song is several years old now, and I had heard it before, but this year I meditated on what that means. It makes me think about God. How could I stand here with him and not be moved, indeed? And I also thought about how many people I haven't really let myself be moved by. It made me want to pay attention.
Most personally empowering song? 32 Flavors (Alana Davis's version). It made me feel invincible while finishing up my thesis.
What am I listening to now? "Go!" The Common ditty about striking while the iron is hot (featuring John Mayer vocals as the repeating refrain), Rod Stewart's "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy," which has always seemed very urgent, yearning, and kind of raw to me... i mean, this line: "he says 'I'm sorry, but I'm out of milk and coffee...never mind, sugar, we can watch the early movie..." is just brilliant. Yes, I am quite serious.
Quick note about Rod Stewart: His musical credibility was over after the very early 80s. As soon as he released that schmaltzig "Forever Young" he was over. And he needs to stop with the jazz standards. His voice is shot. Finito. Stop, please, Rod.
And thanks to a Baltimore Sun article, I have found Icognito's Bees+Things+Flowers which covers several soulful songs, and there is the occasional anomaly, too, like America's "Tin Man," which I've always loved. That song is a postmodern masterpiece. More on that later...
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Crystal's Christmas
As many of you know, the decision to have Christmas at my place was last-minute, and not my own. Because I had not planned to play hostess, I did not budget to purchase a suitable spread of food to feed about five people and a dog, in addition to the presents I bought. Enter my sister Crystal stage left.
She and Caryl (and Babygirl) arrived on Sunday evening with a carload of presents and groceries (her boyfriend followed a few hours later). She thought of everything--breadcrumbs, butter, marshmallows, aluminum baking pans, fresh kale and collard greens--all that you need for a soul food meal (her favourite).
My suggestion had been that we should buy a few boxes of pizza, a bag 'o salad, and some wine and have a very simple, kind of atraditional holiday. My mother was appalled. My sister rallied. Between the two of them, all of the usual carb-laden suspects were present on the table. It was wonderfully surprising to be there, but to not really be responsible for making most of it happen. Sure, I helped cook, did some prep work, but really this was my sister's show. She made this holiday what it was--with her time, her own planning, effort, and resources. And yes, it was a little chaotic, and there were lots of dishes to wash (several rounds over a period of 24 hours), but I'll tell you. That's the kind of hubub you want--a full house, laughter, and a content dog.
Once my mom and her friend arrived (at about 2:30) it was obviously time to open presents (Caryl had been antsy all day and wanted that to happen ASAP). What a blur of wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, and outer packaging! The dog just ran around the table in excitement the whole time. I no more knew what was happening than she did, I think.
Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised at just how well it came together, though by no means surprised by Crystal's generosity or efficiency. She is one of the most industrious people I know, and I got to see her in action. I know it's part of her personality, but it still really impressed me.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
a longer post about the holiday to come, but in the meantime just wanted to report that i had a lovely Christmas with my family and got some very thoughtful gifts. More importantly, i got in some true quality time with my sisters, which I treasure so much. sarah and i hooked up on her way back into town from Richmond and did our gift exchange today. Just finished watching one of those gifts--The Bridget Jones sequel (edge of reason). Oh, and I checked my Independent Study grade online. A+. I figured on an A because I knew I had done the work, but that little + is a tremendous gesture of acknowledgment from my advisor. I know I deserve it, but it still surprised me, because I'm not accustomed to that type of generosity in academia, that little extra. I gave myself to the work and he recognized that. Now I just need to contest that thesis grade (my advisor is not the one who graded me on my thesis though he is the one with whom I did the work)--I was marked down an entire letter grade for not attending the reading. In any case, I have every expectation of rectifying that situation to my satisfaction soon. I'll report back as there is news to report.
Back later with more details about Christmas...
Back later with more details about Christmas...
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Parting ways with the post evangelical church subculture
(or God, save me from your followers)
The church is a huge disappointment to me. When I say “church,” I mean both the institution and the members of the body of Christ who comprise that institution. For years now, I have wondered at my increasing hesitance to attend a church, let alone become a regular member of one.
There is a biblical model for corporate worship—it should be a source of joy for the Christian to worship God together with other believers—but mere church attendance was never intended to be viewed as synonymous with a thriving, intimate relationship with God. That is an entirely private matter, but I cannot tell you how many times I have been berated by well-meaning Christian friends—ironically, at points when my life was the most characterized by prayerfulness, intense, intimate worship, and careful meditation on scripture—who chided me, deeply concerned about my relationship with God because my name was not on the registration log of a particular congregation.
Because my relationship with God could not be seen (and no one can ever say for certain what goes on in any relationship) they thought it must be nonexistant. If any of those friends had had even one unpresumptuous conversation with me during those times, they might have felt differently.
God tells us plainly that man is concerned with the outward appearance, but that he weighs the heart. The Church, at large, is guilty of deifying the outward appearance. At best, it’s a superficial hour (maybe more, depending on your denomination) of “fellowship” with others who profess faith in Christ, but, in the inner chambers of their hearts, judge more harshly and more arrogantly than any "godless" (for the sake of this post, simply those who profess no faith or religious affiliation)person I've ever met.
Being a member of the average protestant, evangelical outfit is an exhausting obstacle course of fake smiles, cliques, and small talk peppered with Christian lingo, bake sales, game nights, and general awkwardness. It’s worse when you are a single adult past a certain age. I’ve read countless articles about the plight of Christian Singles and they all pretty much boil down to one point. Singles need to stop emphasizing their singleness and look for opportunities to get “plugged in” (one example of the lingo I was talking about) to the church community.
The Church emphasizes the singleness of the single because it is an institution for families and clans (most churches have as part of their infrastructure, groups of smaller groups to aid pastors in delegating ministerial responsibilities). But if you have no family, and have not naturally folded in with a small group(formal) or subcultural clique (informal), then you stick out like a sore thumb. It stands to reason. I don’t know that anything can be done about that, and maybe we should stop pretending that there is a solution to this issue. But what is worse, if you defy easy categorization, you will be stuck into the default, unspoken category. Terminal Single. Everyone is thinking it.
It will be subtle at first, but soon you understand that everyone around you has come to terms with the fact that your window of opportunity for love and marriage has come and gone. It is dangerous to be a single woman in any church,past a certain age, if you want to know the truth. If you are, the very nature of the institution sets you up for failure. The last time I was truly happy and unconflicted about being a member of a church, I was 25. 25 is one of the last years I could be a truly carefree Church Single. The dye of expected servitude to the "women’s ministry," role of church maven,hospitality committee (setting up the coffee andcookies after service)member, nursery attendant, etc., had not yet been cast (there are certain “intuitive” opportunities to serve that Old Maids tend to be pushed toward). It can still work out for you at 25.
If you get to 29 and remain uncoupled, the likelihood of a viable man coming to the church,who is also unmarried, dwindles. And since the church is your main source of social connection and validation (obviously, you want to marry within your faith, so it’s natural to want to meet someone through this network), you get wedged into an increasingly tight niche. As is the case in most social structures, being a single man, of any age, is infinitely easier,though single men in church also have their burdens to bear.The Church is just like the secular world that it shuns when it comes to romance. It is based on possessing obvious good looks with Christianese terms like “godly character” thrown in for good measure. I have seen any number of men and women remain “unexamined” despite their godly character if they were thought to possess below average looks. I guess only the empirically attractive are really cultivating the heart of Christ.
I have been troubled, for years, by my decreasing desire to be affiliated with a “local body.” I have wrestled with it, prayed about it, and yet it remains completely antithetical to my wishes to even attend—because I have been made to feel that anything short of total involvement is to shirk my spiritual duty.
My ideal church scenario would be to go once a week for the service, receive the sacrament, enjoy corporate singing, and to hear the Word of God faithfully proclaimed without having to feel responsible to be a contributing member to one single community of people, forever and ever amen.
I am not rejecting God. I reject the precast role I would have to play as a single woman in almost any church I attempted to join. There is no room,no categorization that would also allow me to be intellectually curious or interested in things that are culturally relevant without feeling that I have to qualify those things. Anything other than a cookie cutter believer who comes from an "acceptable" family would be a sore point.
Church membership, at this point, would feel tantamount to cutting off any chance I would have to evolve spiritually, artistically, and emotionally, at the knees. More than the inherently hypocritical social subculture of the church as it pertains to matters of singleness and false-ringin g“friendships” based on holier than thou nonsense,there is the public inability of the church to be true to what it professes. This is actually far more significant than the Church's flawed social strata.
If one is going to publicly, politically proclaim the name of Christ, then one has a responsibility to live out that faith above reproach. I am thinking of the pastor from Denver who was caught in the male prostitute and ecstasy scandal a little over amonth ago. If you know you are conducting your life in direct opposition to what you say you believe,wouldn’t you take yourself out of the limelight? Wouldn’t you, knowing that you are schismed in such a profound way, not put yourself in a position of spiritual authority or moral superiority to people who conduct the same practices you do when no one you know is looking?
How can the Church see to remove the speck from the world’s eye when it won’t first attend to the plank in its own? Honestly, after that happened,I came to a conclusion that this might be a season for the collective of believers to drop its public agendas and take a closer look at the spiritual state of the Church before God, to whom it professes to hold itself accountable.
I know how much I fail to uphold Christ’s commandments. No one can live a sinless life on this earth—it can’t be done—the bedrock of the faith is that we have been saved by God’sg race—and it is in relying on that grace that we experience the most full expression of our faith. Yet, we’ve made the house of God a prison. And ourselves liars.
(or God, save me from your followers)
The church is a huge disappointment to me. When I say “church,” I mean both the institution and the members of the body of Christ who comprise that institution. For years now, I have wondered at my increasing hesitance to attend a church, let alone become a regular member of one.
There is a biblical model for corporate worship—it should be a source of joy for the Christian to worship God together with other believers—but mere church attendance was never intended to be viewed as synonymous with a thriving, intimate relationship with God. That is an entirely private matter, but I cannot tell you how many times I have been berated by well-meaning Christian friends—ironically, at points when my life was the most characterized by prayerfulness, intense, intimate worship, and careful meditation on scripture—who chided me, deeply concerned about my relationship with God because my name was not on the registration log of a particular congregation.
Because my relationship with God could not be seen (and no one can ever say for certain what goes on in any relationship) they thought it must be nonexistant. If any of those friends had had even one unpresumptuous conversation with me during those times, they might have felt differently.
God tells us plainly that man is concerned with the outward appearance, but that he weighs the heart. The Church, at large, is guilty of deifying the outward appearance. At best, it’s a superficial hour (maybe more, depending on your denomination) of “fellowship” with others who profess faith in Christ, but, in the inner chambers of their hearts, judge more harshly and more arrogantly than any "godless" (for the sake of this post, simply those who profess no faith or religious affiliation)person I've ever met.
Being a member of the average protestant, evangelical outfit is an exhausting obstacle course of fake smiles, cliques, and small talk peppered with Christian lingo, bake sales, game nights, and general awkwardness. It’s worse when you are a single adult past a certain age. I’ve read countless articles about the plight of Christian Singles and they all pretty much boil down to one point. Singles need to stop emphasizing their singleness and look for opportunities to get “plugged in” (one example of the lingo I was talking about) to the church community.
The Church emphasizes the singleness of the single because it is an institution for families and clans (most churches have as part of their infrastructure, groups of smaller groups to aid pastors in delegating ministerial responsibilities). But if you have no family, and have not naturally folded in with a small group(formal) or subcultural clique (informal), then you stick out like a sore thumb. It stands to reason. I don’t know that anything can be done about that, and maybe we should stop pretending that there is a solution to this issue. But what is worse, if you defy easy categorization, you will be stuck into the default, unspoken category. Terminal Single. Everyone is thinking it.
It will be subtle at first, but soon you understand that everyone around you has come to terms with the fact that your window of opportunity for love and marriage has come and gone. It is dangerous to be a single woman in any church,past a certain age, if you want to know the truth. If you are, the very nature of the institution sets you up for failure. The last time I was truly happy and unconflicted about being a member of a church, I was 25. 25 is one of the last years I could be a truly carefree Church Single. The dye of expected servitude to the "women’s ministry," role of church maven,hospitality committee (setting up the coffee andcookies after service)member, nursery attendant, etc., had not yet been cast (there are certain “intuitive” opportunities to serve that Old Maids tend to be pushed toward). It can still work out for you at 25.
If you get to 29 and remain uncoupled, the likelihood of a viable man coming to the church,who is also unmarried, dwindles. And since the church is your main source of social connection and validation (obviously, you want to marry within your faith, so it’s natural to want to meet someone through this network), you get wedged into an increasingly tight niche. As is the case in most social structures, being a single man, of any age, is infinitely easier,though single men in church also have their burdens to bear.The Church is just like the secular world that it shuns when it comes to romance. It is based on possessing obvious good looks with Christianese terms like “godly character” thrown in for good measure. I have seen any number of men and women remain “unexamined” despite their godly character if they were thought to possess below average looks. I guess only the empirically attractive are really cultivating the heart of Christ.
I have been troubled, for years, by my decreasing desire to be affiliated with a “local body.” I have wrestled with it, prayed about it, and yet it remains completely antithetical to my wishes to even attend—because I have been made to feel that anything short of total involvement is to shirk my spiritual duty.
My ideal church scenario would be to go once a week for the service, receive the sacrament, enjoy corporate singing, and to hear the Word of God faithfully proclaimed without having to feel responsible to be a contributing member to one single community of people, forever and ever amen.
I am not rejecting God. I reject the precast role I would have to play as a single woman in almost any church I attempted to join. There is no room,no categorization that would also allow me to be intellectually curious or interested in things that are culturally relevant without feeling that I have to qualify those things. Anything other than a cookie cutter believer who comes from an "acceptable" family would be a sore point.
Church membership, at this point, would feel tantamount to cutting off any chance I would have to evolve spiritually, artistically, and emotionally, at the knees. More than the inherently hypocritical social subculture of the church as it pertains to matters of singleness and false-ringin g“friendships” based on holier than thou nonsense,there is the public inability of the church to be true to what it professes. This is actually far more significant than the Church's flawed social strata.
If one is going to publicly, politically proclaim the name of Christ, then one has a responsibility to live out that faith above reproach. I am thinking of the pastor from Denver who was caught in the male prostitute and ecstasy scandal a little over amonth ago. If you know you are conducting your life in direct opposition to what you say you believe,wouldn’t you take yourself out of the limelight? Wouldn’t you, knowing that you are schismed in such a profound way, not put yourself in a position of spiritual authority or moral superiority to people who conduct the same practices you do when no one you know is looking?
How can the Church see to remove the speck from the world’s eye when it won’t first attend to the plank in its own? Honestly, after that happened,I came to a conclusion that this might be a season for the collective of believers to drop its public agendas and take a closer look at the spiritual state of the Church before God, to whom it professes to hold itself accountable.
I know how much I fail to uphold Christ’s commandments. No one can live a sinless life on this earth—it can’t be done—the bedrock of the faith is that we have been saved by God’sg race—and it is in relying on that grace that we experience the most full expression of our faith. Yet, we’ve made the house of God a prison. And ourselves liars.
There are so many things I never could have been...
Catherine came over last night for a pre-Christmas sleepover. She arrived just a minute or two after I got home from work and I promptly filled her in on the latest drama with the university (which I will save for another time). I had planned to make her gorgonzola meatballs & linguini for dinner, but a time crunch dictated that we dine out. We already had dessert reservations at Sammy's Trattoria, but wanted to do something more simple for dinner, so we went to the reliable City Cafe for a quick, unadorned bite.
Catchka and I both love Hitchcock, so post dessert and after our present exchange, we slipped "Dial M For Murder" into the DVD player and were by turns impressed with the director's unarguable genius and tickled by the melodrama that characterized the acting back in the day. The dialogue in old movies is so weird--it's simultaneously formal and less subtle than conversations in films that are made today.
For example, this morning we watched another Hitchcock--"Stage Fright," and in it Marlene Dietrich said to a supporting character "Oh dear, you aren't going to become one of those explicit people who tells you exactly what they're feeling when you ask them how they are, are you?" Or something to that effect. Priceless.
Sarah dropped off presents for my sisters and for Catherine before she headed down to Richmond to see her parents. A gifty drive-by. Before C headed to points south for a pre-Christmas bash with friends of hers, we stopped off at the Sylvan Beach Cafe and shared an Almond croissant and talked a bit. She was so enthusiastic about my thesis, and I loved talking to her about it, the genuinely lovely struggle of getting it out. She really understood where I was coming from, and it just inspired me and invigorated me all over again.
I grocery shopped so I'll have some food in the house when my sisters (and the boyfriend of one of them), and the dog show up tomorrow. Had a late lunch of what else? Something shrimp and whole wheat pasta related, naturally.
Netflix delivered me Dane Cook's "Vicious Circle" (have only recently discovered this comedian, and I really enjoy him) so I watched that before getting up the nerve to head out into the world of retail. I boarded a light rail to Lutherville and got my mom's friend, my mom, and my sister's boyfriend presents. And now I'm done. Literally, I am spent. It's all about vapors of cash till the next paycheck.
In terms of what I never could have been. Well, it's joining a growing list of posts I'm saving for another time.
Catherine came over last night for a pre-Christmas sleepover. She arrived just a minute or two after I got home from work and I promptly filled her in on the latest drama with the university (which I will save for another time). I had planned to make her gorgonzola meatballs & linguini for dinner, but a time crunch dictated that we dine out. We already had dessert reservations at Sammy's Trattoria, but wanted to do something more simple for dinner, so we went to the reliable City Cafe for a quick, unadorned bite.
Catchka and I both love Hitchcock, so post dessert and after our present exchange, we slipped "Dial M For Murder" into the DVD player and were by turns impressed with the director's unarguable genius and tickled by the melodrama that characterized the acting back in the day. The dialogue in old movies is so weird--it's simultaneously formal and less subtle than conversations in films that are made today.
For example, this morning we watched another Hitchcock--"Stage Fright," and in it Marlene Dietrich said to a supporting character "Oh dear, you aren't going to become one of those explicit people who tells you exactly what they're feeling when you ask them how they are, are you?" Or something to that effect. Priceless.
Sarah dropped off presents for my sisters and for Catherine before she headed down to Richmond to see her parents. A gifty drive-by. Before C headed to points south for a pre-Christmas bash with friends of hers, we stopped off at the Sylvan Beach Cafe and shared an Almond croissant and talked a bit. She was so enthusiastic about my thesis, and I loved talking to her about it, the genuinely lovely struggle of getting it out. She really understood where I was coming from, and it just inspired me and invigorated me all over again.
I grocery shopped so I'll have some food in the house when my sisters (and the boyfriend of one of them), and the dog show up tomorrow. Had a late lunch of what else? Something shrimp and whole wheat pasta related, naturally.
Netflix delivered me Dane Cook's "Vicious Circle" (have only recently discovered this comedian, and I really enjoy him) so I watched that before getting up the nerve to head out into the world of retail. I boarded a light rail to Lutherville and got my mom's friend, my mom, and my sister's boyfriend presents. And now I'm done. Literally, I am spent. It's all about vapors of cash till the next paycheck.
In terms of what I never could have been. Well, it's joining a growing list of posts I'm saving for another time.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
More Shopping
Unexpectedly, I hooked up with Sarah after work to do some more shopping and wound up getting a lot... for myself. I happen to need a lot of stuff right now--stock items like new sweaters, a watch, some shoes. It seemed indulgent, but then I reminded myself that I've held off on these things for too long, which is why I suddenly need a lot all at once.
And in the interest of keeping it real, I made myself a salon appointment for next Thursday because I cannot take my rebel hair a moment longer than necessary.
But...but... I did manage to get Sarah's mom something. So it wasn't an entirely selfish venture.
Unexpectedly, I hooked up with Sarah after work to do some more shopping and wound up getting a lot... for myself. I happen to need a lot of stuff right now--stock items like new sweaters, a watch, some shoes. It seemed indulgent, but then I reminded myself that I've held off on these things for too long, which is why I suddenly need a lot all at once.
And in the interest of keeping it real, I made myself a salon appointment for next Thursday because I cannot take my rebel hair a moment longer than necessary.
But...but... I did manage to get Sarah's mom something. So it wasn't an entirely selfish venture.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
I think I've finally gotten the right balance of curry paste, coconut milk, honey, and crushed red pepper to make a truly good curry sauce. Tonight's shrimp curry pasta was perfect (and hot!). I sauteed scallions, roasted red pepper, and garlic in the pan with the shrimp, then added the curry mixture. I let it cook until the sauce thickened up a bit. Once the pasta (whole wheat) was done, I just spooned the shrimp and sauce on top. So easy and relatively easy clean up, too.
Talked to my mom tonight. I think we are now doing Christmas at my place, which is actually nice. That means I will not have to worry about keeping my sanity in a chaotic space. But it does mean that I can busy myself cleaning up and making things here as warm and relaxing as possible.
On other fronts, I am happy to report that both of my sisters are in relationships that are making them happy! Caryl's situation is fairly new, and not fully defined, but the gentleman seems invested. Crystal and her guy are beginning to talk marriage. I've met him and I approve. As with everything else, we'll see, but I think it's never bad to have love in your life, even if only for a little while.
I have been so restless lately! It's like I'm waiting for something awesome to happen, or for something to happen, period. I think it's just the internal chaos that precedes Christmas and the new year.
Talked to my mom tonight. I think we are now doing Christmas at my place, which is actually nice. That means I will not have to worry about keeping my sanity in a chaotic space. But it does mean that I can busy myself cleaning up and making things here as warm and relaxing as possible.
On other fronts, I am happy to report that both of my sisters are in relationships that are making them happy! Caryl's situation is fairly new, and not fully defined, but the gentleman seems invested. Crystal and her guy are beginning to talk marriage. I've met him and I approve. As with everything else, we'll see, but I think it's never bad to have love in your life, even if only for a little while.
I have been so restless lately! It's like I'm waiting for something awesome to happen, or for something to happen, period. I think it's just the internal chaos that precedes Christmas and the new year.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
More Strides
I set up an invitation-only reading at a favourite local venue for next month. I'm very excited to share my work on my terms with my family and friends. Hope everyone I've invited can make it!
And I think I've also decided to join the gym near my job. I have got to do something--namely--to start moving and stop reaching for the candy jar.
I got into bed about a half hour ago because I was falling asleep on my couch while struggling to make it through an indulgent, well below par film and now I am WIDE awake. guess it was just that movie that was yawnsville.
After work I took the lightrail up to the suburbs (Christmas shopping expedition). I didn't buy what I went in search of (completely unreasonably priced), but I did come away with another little gem that I know the recipient will love to tiny little pieces.
Still haven't solved the problem of my hair. I mean, I know what to do. I have to go to the salon. But that's not happening before 2007 for sure. Yikes! Somebody get me a hat for Christmas.
I set up an invitation-only reading at a favourite local venue for next month. I'm very excited to share my work on my terms with my family and friends. Hope everyone I've invited can make it!
And I think I've also decided to join the gym near my job. I have got to do something--namely--to start moving and stop reaching for the candy jar.
I got into bed about a half hour ago because I was falling asleep on my couch while struggling to make it through an indulgent, well below par film and now I am WIDE awake. guess it was just that movie that was yawnsville.
After work I took the lightrail up to the suburbs (Christmas shopping expedition). I didn't buy what I went in search of (completely unreasonably priced), but I did come away with another little gem that I know the recipient will love to tiny little pieces.
Still haven't solved the problem of my hair. I mean, I know what to do. I have to go to the salon. But that's not happening before 2007 for sure. Yikes! Somebody get me a hat for Christmas.
It's impossible for me to be monogamous...
when it comes to alcoholic beverages. I decided that I would try to be faithful to the martini (dirty) last night. It seems befitting a lady to pick a drink and stick to it throughout the course of a meeting/conversation. Mind you, I wasn't going on a bender or anything like that. I figured I'd have two or three drinks tops (over two hours that's not so bad)... well, I had two martinis, but "pulled a Manhattan" for number 3. What can I say? I'm all about diversification in every sphere of my existence.
here are some things I desperately need right now, in no particular order:
A salon appointment (my tresses are so sad)
A gym membership (I miss the elliptical)
A plan for making it through 4 days at my mother's house with my sanity intact.
when it comes to alcoholic beverages. I decided that I would try to be faithful to the martini (dirty) last night. It seems befitting a lady to pick a drink and stick to it throughout the course of a meeting/conversation. Mind you, I wasn't going on a bender or anything like that. I figured I'd have two or three drinks tops (over two hours that's not so bad)... well, I had two martinis, but "pulled a Manhattan" for number 3. What can I say? I'm all about diversification in every sphere of my existence.
here are some things I desperately need right now, in no particular order:
A salon appointment (my tresses are so sad)
A gym membership (I miss the elliptical)
A plan for making it through 4 days at my mother's house with my sanity intact.
Monday, December 18, 2006
I wish I had a river I could skate away on...
I don't wish I had a river I could skate away on. This is called situational irony. Met with my advisor for drinks, to discuss, ostensibly, what i've done all semester. and we did discuss that, but we also discussed politics, how i became a Christian, the validity of my poetry, anecdotes, publishing possibilities, a trip to dc (in the interest of politics) together. It gave me every encouragement of this fertile collaboration continuting.
I don't wish I had a river I could skate away on. This is called situational irony. Met with my advisor for drinks, to discuss, ostensibly, what i've done all semester. and we did discuss that, but we also discussed politics, how i became a Christian, the validity of my poetry, anecdotes, publishing possibilities, a trip to dc (in the interest of politics) together. It gave me every encouragement of this fertile collaboration continuting.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Wrapping Up the Weekend
I got back to my apartment from a weekend away (in Richmond with Sarah and her parents) at about 7:10 tonight. I ate the leftover curried shrimp with whole wheat pasta I made on Thursday night then set about wrapping presents (a task I don't really enjoy) I purchased. I'm pleased with myself--I think I managed to find three fitting items for my middle sister (I already ordered my youngest sister's present), small tokens for several friends, and a thank you gift for my advisor (really hope he doesn't already have it because I inscribed it).
Speaking of my advisor, I see him tomorrow night to "casually rummage through [my] thoughts about the semester" over drinks. I debated for a while whether it was appropriate to get him anything--for all intents and purposes my time at the University is over and done--so hopefully even if someone were to find out about it (and I doubt that), it couldn't be construed as any sort of impropriety or bribe or something (some bribe, a weekly bus pass costs more).
Besides, I contributed to a group gift for another faculty member who had little to do with my growth or development in the program. Once I was approached about "thanking" this man (who certainly deserves thanks and appreciation--though from me least of all, given my limited relationship with him), I figured no one could get mad at me for acknowledging the time, generosity, and crucial contribution my advisor/mentor has made to my writing and my evolution as a poet.
Well, this is the last week before the holiday. Let's make it count, people. See Sarah's most recent post for one excellent idea.
I got back to my apartment from a weekend away (in Richmond with Sarah and her parents) at about 7:10 tonight. I ate the leftover curried shrimp with whole wheat pasta I made on Thursday night then set about wrapping presents (a task I don't really enjoy) I purchased. I'm pleased with myself--I think I managed to find three fitting items for my middle sister (I already ordered my youngest sister's present), small tokens for several friends, and a thank you gift for my advisor (really hope he doesn't already have it because I inscribed it).
Speaking of my advisor, I see him tomorrow night to "casually rummage through [my] thoughts about the semester" over drinks. I debated for a while whether it was appropriate to get him anything--for all intents and purposes my time at the University is over and done--so hopefully even if someone were to find out about it (and I doubt that), it couldn't be construed as any sort of impropriety or bribe or something (some bribe, a weekly bus pass costs more).
Besides, I contributed to a group gift for another faculty member who had little to do with my growth or development in the program. Once I was approached about "thanking" this man (who certainly deserves thanks and appreciation--though from me least of all, given my limited relationship with him), I figured no one could get mad at me for acknowledging the time, generosity, and crucial contribution my advisor/mentor has made to my writing and my evolution as a poet.
Well, this is the last week before the holiday. Let's make it count, people. See Sarah's most recent post for one excellent idea.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
I've been planning a post topic, on some level, for months now...
This is not that post.
Yesterday my good friend Devika Keral made the train trek from Washington, DC to Baltimore to lunch with me and Sarah. She had planned to come to the thesis reading, but even after I made the decision to skip it, she decided to still make the trip. I am so glad she did. It is always soul-enriching to see Devika and yesterday was no exception.
She got to see my apartment for the first time. We hung out talking for about an hour, nursing glasses of my special egg nogg cocktail, before the Sarah One came to spirit us away to sushi in the suburbs. I have never had the pleasure of hanging out with them both together for any extended period of time, so that was also a real treat.
I didn't feel conflicted or regretful at all about not being at the reading. I wondered if I would, but it was just a superior way to spend the afternoon. I believe in doing what is organic, what brings you pleasure, with the people you love. And I love both of these women and I know they love me. It couldn't have been better.
After parting ways with Devika at Penn station, Sarah and I pushed on to her apartment for our standing Saturday night sleepover. We hung out for a few hours, tried to watch Woody Allen's "Scoop," but couldn't get into it, so shut it off. At about 9:30 we decided to go to Kinko's so I could get the tapebound/acid-free copies of my thesis that the University requires (I'll deliver them sometime this coming week). That process was delightfully simple (once we got to the store in White Marsh--the Timonium outfit's tape binding machine was broke and they had never heard of acid-free paper, which did nothing to inspire confidence in me...).
What a great weekend.
This is not that post.
Yesterday my good friend Devika Keral made the train trek from Washington, DC to Baltimore to lunch with me and Sarah. She had planned to come to the thesis reading, but even after I made the decision to skip it, she decided to still make the trip. I am so glad she did. It is always soul-enriching to see Devika and yesterday was no exception.
She got to see my apartment for the first time. We hung out talking for about an hour, nursing glasses of my special egg nogg cocktail, before the Sarah One came to spirit us away to sushi in the suburbs. I have never had the pleasure of hanging out with them both together for any extended period of time, so that was also a real treat.
I didn't feel conflicted or regretful at all about not being at the reading. I wondered if I would, but it was just a superior way to spend the afternoon. I believe in doing what is organic, what brings you pleasure, with the people you love. And I love both of these women and I know they love me. It couldn't have been better.
After parting ways with Devika at Penn station, Sarah and I pushed on to her apartment for our standing Saturday night sleepover. We hung out for a few hours, tried to watch Woody Allen's "Scoop," but couldn't get into it, so shut it off. At about 9:30 we decided to go to Kinko's so I could get the tapebound/acid-free copies of my thesis that the University requires (I'll deliver them sometime this coming week). That process was delightfully simple (once we got to the store in White Marsh--the Timonium outfit's tape binding machine was broke and they had never heard of acid-free paper, which did nothing to inspire confidence in me...).
What a great weekend.
Friday, December 08, 2006
What I've Learned This Week About Outrage, Friends Who Could Not Possibly Rock Any Harder, Putting the Kabbash on Some Dubious Crap, and What It Means To Trust Someone...
At the start of 2006 I set a general goal for myself. Not a resolution, but more a guiding principle. Discretion. I have been very successful with employing this principle, on the whole, but of course, I have fallen short of the bar a few times, too. This week I have been sorely tested in this area. I haven't always known when to draw the line between "sharing information about my own life" and being a pot-stirrer. You know the type that keeps stuff going just because she gets off on it? I don't want to be that person... I've seen that "things" can get bigger and more blown out of proportion the more we talk about them, so I've started to check myself even when it's my own business I'm putting in the street.
It's not my intention to be vague here, but in the interest of putting the kabbash on the general ick that has resulted from some less than pleasant developments, I won't go into details. I can say this: I am already revisiting the object lesson of my post from about a week ago. I said there was power in understanding when something is not about you, in letting a person's negative impression of you stand. And letting it stand, in this case, for this reason, has nothing to do with a defeatist paradigm. It's about picking your battles. Sometimes you have to let another person, another institution, another entity try and convict you of some bogus, ambiguous social crimes in order to be at peace with yourself. You might just have to hang out there by yourself...go hard, etc.
But I'll say this, too. When you have an inner circle of people who know the truth, who can be all up in arms on your behalf, well that rocks. I can't say it any more simply. Look, I'm a strong woman. But sometimes it's nice to let someone else fight for you. Having a knight in shining armor, so to speak, doesn't make me feel any less formidable in my own right. It's made me feel even more powerful in this quiet, lovely way...
I know that trust has many illustrations and expressions. The one I've seen this week? Someone that I hold in high esteem not use his influence in my life to get me to do something I didn't want to do. I just felt so safe in that realization of his character. Like I didn't have to fight that battle in addition to the other ones because he got it.
As I said, this in addition to all the amazing friends God has given me who've kept me grounded and kept it real during the drama. Another terrific example. Last night my good friend E called me up and left me the best message. She'd told her dad about the recent goings on in Thesisland, and the man--who has never met me, incidentally--wanted to know if "he needed to go down there and storm the bastille."
Every woman needs a father, even if it's not her own, who would at least offer to storm an evil empire on her behalf.
At the start of 2006 I set a general goal for myself. Not a resolution, but more a guiding principle. Discretion. I have been very successful with employing this principle, on the whole, but of course, I have fallen short of the bar a few times, too. This week I have been sorely tested in this area. I haven't always known when to draw the line between "sharing information about my own life" and being a pot-stirrer. You know the type that keeps stuff going just because she gets off on it? I don't want to be that person... I've seen that "things" can get bigger and more blown out of proportion the more we talk about them, so I've started to check myself even when it's my own business I'm putting in the street.
It's not my intention to be vague here, but in the interest of putting the kabbash on the general ick that has resulted from some less than pleasant developments, I won't go into details. I can say this: I am already revisiting the object lesson of my post from about a week ago. I said there was power in understanding when something is not about you, in letting a person's negative impression of you stand. And letting it stand, in this case, for this reason, has nothing to do with a defeatist paradigm. It's about picking your battles. Sometimes you have to let another person, another institution, another entity try and convict you of some bogus, ambiguous social crimes in order to be at peace with yourself. You might just have to hang out there by yourself...go hard, etc.
But I'll say this, too. When you have an inner circle of people who know the truth, who can be all up in arms on your behalf, well that rocks. I can't say it any more simply. Look, I'm a strong woman. But sometimes it's nice to let someone else fight for you. Having a knight in shining armor, so to speak, doesn't make me feel any less formidable in my own right. It's made me feel even more powerful in this quiet, lovely way...
I know that trust has many illustrations and expressions. The one I've seen this week? Someone that I hold in high esteem not use his influence in my life to get me to do something I didn't want to do. I just felt so safe in that realization of his character. Like I didn't have to fight that battle in addition to the other ones because he got it.
As I said, this in addition to all the amazing friends God has given me who've kept me grounded and kept it real during the drama. Another terrific example. Last night my good friend E called me up and left me the best message. She'd told her dad about the recent goings on in Thesisland, and the man--who has never met me, incidentally--wanted to know if "he needed to go down there and storm the bastille."
Every woman needs a father, even if it's not her own, who would at least offer to storm an evil empire on her behalf.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Thesis Acceptance, Take Two
The University hustled to correct its mistake. As it turns out, almost everyone on the review committee had gotten the correct version, but the Poetry Reviewer, the one who actually had the final say over my thesis, did not. In any case, they all reconvened post haste after I alerted the Thesis Coordinator to the error, and re-reviewed my document. I got the new decision today via priority mail. This time my thesis decision was "accepted in this form," meaning I have no revisions of substance to make.
Now that I've calmed down I can actually see the compliment in the fact that my first draft was "accepted with minor revisions." Given that the only work that had been done to that draft was that it had been printed out, that's slightly remarkable. It was that rough by comparison. I feel so validated now, because as important to me as getting my thesis accepted, I wanted it accepted "as is." This is not, for my program, a lofty goal that few attain. I knew I could do it. It's great to know that my final draft earned the specific level of acceptance I set as my goal at the beginning of the term.
I am so grateful to my friends for not only supporting me throughout the semester, but for being there through the temporary crisis Monday night's upset created. All of you were appropriately outraged on my behalf while remaining positive and giving me some much-needed perspective. If it weren't for you wonderful people, I don't know that I would have gotten to sleep that night.
My coworkers, again, proved just how thoughtful they are. On Tuesday I received via delivery, at the office, a lovely basket of Afrian Violets. The card read "Kate, You will always be our Poet Laureate." First of all, I have never gotten flowers delivered to me, for any reason, so when the office assistant walked toward my desk with this beautiful arrangement, I was stupefied. Surely, she was not coming to my desk with this inspiring package...
Now I have the sense of joy and happiness I had hoped to feel on Monday night. It's all over and amends have been made; my work has been validated. I remember deciding to apply to this program 3 years ago. What a tremendous experience this was. It was everything I wanted, ultimately.
You know, I was so upset a couple of nights ago that I decided not to participate in the Thesis Reading on Saturday. In truth, I had never wanted to do it--not because of nerves, but for some inexplicable reason, I just haven't been "feeling it." But after the snafu, I decided there was no way I could even pretend to embrace the ritual in the proper spirit required for such an event. I told my advisor as much. And he replied that I was the only reason he would have attended--as a show of support, but more importantly to indulge in my work, my voice. This relationship has been the pivotal one of my master's degree candidacy. And I would be sad that this association is reaching a formal conclusion. I would be if I didn't already know that new contexts for continued collaboration await.
On to the next chapter of this book...
The University hustled to correct its mistake. As it turns out, almost everyone on the review committee had gotten the correct version, but the Poetry Reviewer, the one who actually had the final say over my thesis, did not. In any case, they all reconvened post haste after I alerted the Thesis Coordinator to the error, and re-reviewed my document. I got the new decision today via priority mail. This time my thesis decision was "accepted in this form," meaning I have no revisions of substance to make.
Now that I've calmed down I can actually see the compliment in the fact that my first draft was "accepted with minor revisions." Given that the only work that had been done to that draft was that it had been printed out, that's slightly remarkable. It was that rough by comparison. I feel so validated now, because as important to me as getting my thesis accepted, I wanted it accepted "as is." This is not, for my program, a lofty goal that few attain. I knew I could do it. It's great to know that my final draft earned the specific level of acceptance I set as my goal at the beginning of the term.
I am so grateful to my friends for not only supporting me throughout the semester, but for being there through the temporary crisis Monday night's upset created. All of you were appropriately outraged on my behalf while remaining positive and giving me some much-needed perspective. If it weren't for you wonderful people, I don't know that I would have gotten to sleep that night.
My coworkers, again, proved just how thoughtful they are. On Tuesday I received via delivery, at the office, a lovely basket of Afrian Violets. The card read "Kate, You will always be our Poet Laureate." First of all, I have never gotten flowers delivered to me, for any reason, so when the office assistant walked toward my desk with this beautiful arrangement, I was stupefied. Surely, she was not coming to my desk with this inspiring package...
Now I have the sense of joy and happiness I had hoped to feel on Monday night. It's all over and amends have been made; my work has been validated. I remember deciding to apply to this program 3 years ago. What a tremendous experience this was. It was everything I wanted, ultimately.
You know, I was so upset a couple of nights ago that I decided not to participate in the Thesis Reading on Saturday. In truth, I had never wanted to do it--not because of nerves, but for some inexplicable reason, I just haven't been "feeling it." But after the snafu, I decided there was no way I could even pretend to embrace the ritual in the proper spirit required for such an event. I told my advisor as much. And he replied that I was the only reason he would have attended--as a show of support, but more importantly to indulge in my work, my voice. This relationship has been the pivotal one of my master's degree candidacy. And I would be sad that this association is reaching a formal conclusion. I would be if I didn't already know that new contexts for continued collaboration await.
On to the next chapter of this book...
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
well, my thesis was accepted... with minor revisions. but the kicker is that they accepted the first draft. somehow the reviewer for poetry (not the person to whom I turned in my thesis and therein may be the problem) didn't get my final draft with new title, sans essay, and with extensive revisions. to say that i have problems with the fact that i was the last person in my class to find out my standing, and that i found it out in class (my thesis was handed back to me with comments) when everyone else got their results by mail, would be putting it mildly. i should not have had to process this information in a public setting--how much more horrifying to realize that i was looking at the old title page, the old table of contents, the essay, long since kabbashed, for goodness' sake... I tried for about three minutes to make it through the last class (this class, in case i haven't emphasized this enough, is something i had to attend in addition to my meetings with my advisor where the real work of my thesis was done), but i couldn't do it. i knew if i stayed i was seriously going to lose it, and just like with a child throwing a temper tantrum or who is unwell, there is only one thing to do--remove myself from the situation. i needed to get home and get on the phone and launch an e-mail campaign.
so i've submitted, via e-mail, the correct version to the coordinator. and i cc'd the poetry reviewer and my advisor. in short, i think i'm getting a master's degree. i still don't know, because now the correct draft of my thesis has to be reviewed. i am significantly less riled than i was last night, but i'm still at the point where i can't see how this has done anything but ruin the end of my master's career.
so i've submitted, via e-mail, the correct version to the coordinator. and i cc'd the poetry reviewer and my advisor. in short, i think i'm getting a master's degree. i still don't know, because now the correct draft of my thesis has to be reviewed. i am significantly less riled than i was last night, but i'm still at the point where i can't see how this has done anything but ruin the end of my master's career.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Some things happen and you know, intuitively, that they foreshadow something else (or you hope they do--in any case, they seem large with suggestion). For whatever reason, you are able to tap into the dramatic arc of your life and know This is important. Remember it for later. I could not stop thinking about a particular someone this afternoon. He occupied my thoughts for the entire 5-stop light rail ride I took from Mt. Washington to the Cultural Center, where I disembarked to go home. Right at the corner of Charles & Preston, I saw him. He was within calling out range, so I did. My voice has never had much power, even when I yell or scream, but he heard me and stopped.
The exchange wasn't long and the only remarkable thing about it, other than the unexpectedness of seeing him at all, is that in the course of about 30 seconds, he touched me twice. We were both on our way to our respective homes--and I was already somewhat late to meet my mother and her friend for dinner (today is my mom's birthday), so there was no belabouring of the moment.
It was kind of nothing, but you wouldn't know that by the stupid grin I sported all the way to my apartment. It was like I conjured him up and placed him squarely on the page of my day, right near the end of a chapter.
The exchange wasn't long and the only remarkable thing about it, other than the unexpectedness of seeing him at all, is that in the course of about 30 seconds, he touched me twice. We were both on our way to our respective homes--and I was already somewhat late to meet my mother and her friend for dinner (today is my mom's birthday), so there was no belabouring of the moment.
It was kind of nothing, but you wouldn't know that by the stupid grin I sported all the way to my apartment. It was like I conjured him up and placed him squarely on the page of my day, right near the end of a chapter.
