So, Jeph and I are into the whole steam punk scene. We love anything that fits into the category of "Neo-Victorian." Naturally, we were drawn to the movie "Hugo," and happily, there was just as much substance as there was style.
Hugo is a Martin Scorsese film about a young boy living in a train station in Paris. After his father dies, an uncle who maintains the clocks at the station takes him in, but it's clear he has no desire or ability to be a caregiver. Hugo ends up left to his own devices and gets by on whatever food he can steal. The only thing that seems to drive him is continuing to repair a machine he was working on with his father before his death.
The machine is an automaton--a mechanized human figure. Hugo believes that if he is successful in repairing the machine, he will receive a final message from his father. In the effort to repair the machine, Hugo stoops to stealing toys and parts of toys from a toy shop in the station. Little does he know how close he is to the very spirit of his father.
Through the course of the film, his thieving gets him into plenty of trouble, and the owner of the toy shop takes one of his prized possessions away to punish him for stealing--a small notebook with drawings and diagrams his father had made of the automaton and how to repair him. In desperation, Hugo finds himself working for the grizzled and grumpy toy shop owner, and he is soon befriended by the man's god daughter.
As their friendship grows, Hugo and Isabelle learn the secrets of her sullen godfather, and they come to believe Hugo's purpose is to fix Papa Georges.
Purpose is something very important to Hugo, for his purpose is the only link that remains between him and his father. His purpose is the only thing that prevents him from absorbing the gravity of his situation--that he is completely alone in the world.
As I watched Hugo explaining this ideal to Isabelle, it occurred to me that like connection, as I discussed in regards to the pack and family structures in the Twilight Saga, purpose also can be our saving grace. Purpose gives our lives meaning, and when we feel our purposes slip away from us from time to time, we feel as if we are losing ourselves, or losing our connection to things we hold dear.
It's not always about being the leader. It's not about having a title. It's not even about having a job. It's about fitting into a keyhole--unlocking the door to who we are. It's about the pieces of our lives fitting together like Hugo's automaton. It's about being a working piece within our own lives.
Another gem within "Hugo" is its exploration of something Scorsese and anyone who has a love for the movies should care about--the early days of film, and the way they are a doorway to our dreams. Images of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin in the early days of the movies are heartwarming to see through Scorsese's lens. I am sure I don't love them as much as he does, but I do love them.
Jeph and I saw a review of "Hugo" this morning, basically describing it
as disappointing and not being as magical as it should be. But how can
you define magic?
The imagery of "Hugo" alone makes it cinematic eye candy--one of my favorite film genres! But it's the passionate purpose of a little boy trying to hold onto any shred of his father that he can, that is truly the heart of the movie. It's the reminder that we are all trying to live our purpose in whatever it is we do, and without it, our lives are broken.
If you're thinking about seeing "Hugo," you should go. It's more than just magical enough.
A Kind of Magic--Queen
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
November 20, 2011--It's the unnatural love story, stupid.
So, the Twilight novels frequently receive criticism from "serious" writers and "serious" people for various reasons. Over the years, even I, in all of my swept up lovingness of them have identified things about them that I find ridiculous. Certain turns of phrase make me cringe because of their absolute absurdity, like when Edward is discussing his view of his wedding night with Bella and how it was "the best night of my existence." Now, come on, would a one hundred-year-old really talk that way? I don't think so. I don't think a one thousand-year-old would talk that way.
That said, there's something that strikes a chord with Twilight fans that allows us to ignore the fact that some of the themes are redundant and trite, and at times, not even as well executed as they could be. I mean, how many girl meets vampire, girl falls in love with vampire, vampire falls in love with girl and complications ensue stories are there? A cajillion.
So why is Twilight the one that got thrown at the wall and stuck? I don't know. I only know why it stuck for me, and why it seems to have stuck for my small circle of friends. It's because of the complete unreality of the love story.
Let's forget for a just a moment that Edward is a vampire. Let's forget that Jacob is a werewolf. Let's pretend that these guys are just two average Joes. Doing that strips away the first layer of "fantastic," but even if we strip away this layer, you still have two guys behaving over a girl in a very unnatural and unrealistic way. Neither one of them walked up to Bella after class and said, 'hey, do you want to grab a bite and go see a movie?' Both of them approached her from the extreme--essentially throwing themselves at, and then desperately pulling themselves away, in spite of their deep longing, from her.
Now tell me girls, when was the last time your significant other expressed their undying love for you with this kind of angst? I'm pretty sure it's never. And now tell me, how many times have you dreamed that someone would fall so desperately in love with you that even against the most unmanageable odds they would do absolutely anything for you--even involve themselves in massive "gang" fights to protect you from certain death? How many times have you dreamed that someone would make you the entire center of their world and cater to your most absurd whim at a moment's notice? I'm pretty sure it's everyday, even if you're in a relationship.
We dream of the the absurd, and Twilight is, well, the absurd. Even some of my more grounded and down to earth friends support this idea.
As the days leading up to the "Breaking Dawn" premiere trickled away, one such friend speculated on how much of the wedding night would really be played out on film. In my opinion, one of the strengths of the books is the fact that there is so much ridiculous sexual tension, and the actual consummation of the Edward and Bella relationship might consist of a paragraph. Now, most of us in long-term, committed relationships have sex, but there's something desperately intriguing about this couple who does not. My friend who was most interested in this aspect of the story even sought out Twilight porn in hopes that it might fulfill the fantasy. Interestingly, the reason it failed was because there was no plot.
Now I think we all know that, in general, porn usually doesn't have a plot, at most it has a theme. The Edward and Bella theme isn't strong enough to carry a porno flick. Why? It's because we are after the absurdly ridiculous and unnatural love story. If dressing up as Edward and Bella and "doing the deed" was enough, there wouldn't be any reason to read the books or go to the movies multiple times.
If the wedding night was the best night of Edward's existence, then for many of us who follow and love the Twilight series, this story is at least one of the best that can never really exist, and it's not just because vampires and werewolves don't exist, it's because this kind of love doesn't really exist.
Now I know that my saying that makes me a Debbie Downer, and I will probably incur a tiny little wrath from my lovely and devoted husband, who makes a damn fine effort to love me absurdly. But hear me out.
What are Edward and Bella going to do for an eternity?
We already know that for about a hundred years, Edward has been going to high school and college over and over, and that he wasn't even really interested in dating anyone. We know that he and his family never sleep, they have no interest in television. They don't use their time to get into politics or make the world better, unless we all give Carlisle the hero award for becoming a brilliant doctor in spite of his obvious handicap, or we recognize Rosalie as the most staunchly pro-life vampire ever. It would seem that the only routine connection to contemporary life Alice has is with fashion. Who knows how Emmet, Jasper and Esme pass their time?
Yes, they have ridiculous amounts of money and can do anything they want. But at a point, what is left to do after hundreds of years besides eat and stand around looking devastatingly beautiful?
Life and the kind of love we mere humans find are real. Reality is getting up in the morning, splashing water on your face to get the sleep out of your eyes, realizing you wish you'd shaved your legs last night, and brushing your teeth. It's going to work and getting through your day. It's coming home and recapping the mundane with your partner and hitting the sack early because you have to do it all again tomorrow. It's a vacation once a year if you're lucky, and figuring out how you're going to fund it, and who's going to watch your dogs. It's an occasional night out for dinner at a fancy place in fancy clothes. It's occasionally thoughtless, and saying things you didn't mean, or even failing to realize you should have responded in the first place. It's ordinary and mundane at times, and at others, it's the only thing that keeps you going in the wake of other disappointments and despair.
Edward and Bella are the fictional characters inside our souls. They are who we would be if we didn't really exist. I'm okay with the fact that I'm not going to be kicking around looking for something to do for the next thousand years, because that means I have to find a way to fit everything into my short life that I can, and I have to appreciate every good thing that comes along before I run out of time.
Would I love for Edward Cullen to come along and brush his cool marble hand against my cheek? You betcha, but I think it would be hard for me to compete with a mountain lion for long, and even though I'm totally enamored of it right now, I'm sure I'd get really tired of Isle Esme. So, I'm going to visit the Cullens from time to time and I am going to continue to breathe in and out, and do all of the things they don't have to worry about.
A Thousand Years--Christina Perri
That said, there's something that strikes a chord with Twilight fans that allows us to ignore the fact that some of the themes are redundant and trite, and at times, not even as well executed as they could be. I mean, how many girl meets vampire, girl falls in love with vampire, vampire falls in love with girl and complications ensue stories are there? A cajillion.
So why is Twilight the one that got thrown at the wall and stuck? I don't know. I only know why it stuck for me, and why it seems to have stuck for my small circle of friends. It's because of the complete unreality of the love story.
Let's forget for a just a moment that Edward is a vampire. Let's forget that Jacob is a werewolf. Let's pretend that these guys are just two average Joes. Doing that strips away the first layer of "fantastic," but even if we strip away this layer, you still have two guys behaving over a girl in a very unnatural and unrealistic way. Neither one of them walked up to Bella after class and said, 'hey, do you want to grab a bite and go see a movie?' Both of them approached her from the extreme--essentially throwing themselves at, and then desperately pulling themselves away, in spite of their deep longing, from her.
Now tell me girls, when was the last time your significant other expressed their undying love for you with this kind of angst? I'm pretty sure it's never. And now tell me, how many times have you dreamed that someone would fall so desperately in love with you that even against the most unmanageable odds they would do absolutely anything for you--even involve themselves in massive "gang" fights to protect you from certain death? How many times have you dreamed that someone would make you the entire center of their world and cater to your most absurd whim at a moment's notice? I'm pretty sure it's everyday, even if you're in a relationship.
We dream of the the absurd, and Twilight is, well, the absurd. Even some of my more grounded and down to earth friends support this idea.
As the days leading up to the "Breaking Dawn" premiere trickled away, one such friend speculated on how much of the wedding night would really be played out on film. In my opinion, one of the strengths of the books is the fact that there is so much ridiculous sexual tension, and the actual consummation of the Edward and Bella relationship might consist of a paragraph. Now, most of us in long-term, committed relationships have sex, but there's something desperately intriguing about this couple who does not. My friend who was most interested in this aspect of the story even sought out Twilight porn in hopes that it might fulfill the fantasy. Interestingly, the reason it failed was because there was no plot.
Now I think we all know that, in general, porn usually doesn't have a plot, at most it has a theme. The Edward and Bella theme isn't strong enough to carry a porno flick. Why? It's because we are after the absurdly ridiculous and unnatural love story. If dressing up as Edward and Bella and "doing the deed" was enough, there wouldn't be any reason to read the books or go to the movies multiple times.
If the wedding night was the best night of Edward's existence, then for many of us who follow and love the Twilight series, this story is at least one of the best that can never really exist, and it's not just because vampires and werewolves don't exist, it's because this kind of love doesn't really exist.
Now I know that my saying that makes me a Debbie Downer, and I will probably incur a tiny little wrath from my lovely and devoted husband, who makes a damn fine effort to love me absurdly. But hear me out.
What are Edward and Bella going to do for an eternity?
We already know that for about a hundred years, Edward has been going to high school and college over and over, and that he wasn't even really interested in dating anyone. We know that he and his family never sleep, they have no interest in television. They don't use their time to get into politics or make the world better, unless we all give Carlisle the hero award for becoming a brilliant doctor in spite of his obvious handicap, or we recognize Rosalie as the most staunchly pro-life vampire ever. It would seem that the only routine connection to contemporary life Alice has is with fashion. Who knows how Emmet, Jasper and Esme pass their time?
Yes, they have ridiculous amounts of money and can do anything they want. But at a point, what is left to do after hundreds of years besides eat and stand around looking devastatingly beautiful?
Life and the kind of love we mere humans find are real. Reality is getting up in the morning, splashing water on your face to get the sleep out of your eyes, realizing you wish you'd shaved your legs last night, and brushing your teeth. It's going to work and getting through your day. It's coming home and recapping the mundane with your partner and hitting the sack early because you have to do it all again tomorrow. It's a vacation once a year if you're lucky, and figuring out how you're going to fund it, and who's going to watch your dogs. It's an occasional night out for dinner at a fancy place in fancy clothes. It's occasionally thoughtless, and saying things you didn't mean, or even failing to realize you should have responded in the first place. It's ordinary and mundane at times, and at others, it's the only thing that keeps you going in the wake of other disappointments and despair.
Edward and Bella are the fictional characters inside our souls. They are who we would be if we didn't really exist. I'm okay with the fact that I'm not going to be kicking around looking for something to do for the next thousand years, because that means I have to find a way to fit everything into my short life that I can, and I have to appreciate every good thing that comes along before I run out of time.
Would I love for Edward Cullen to come along and brush his cool marble hand against my cheek? You betcha, but I think it would be hard for me to compete with a mountain lion for long, and even though I'm totally enamored of it right now, I'm sure I'd get really tired of Isle Esme. So, I'm going to visit the Cullens from time to time and I am going to continue to breathe in and out, and do all of the things they don't have to worry about.
A Thousand Years--Christina Perri
Friday, November 18, 2011
November 18, 2011--We belong.
So, it was probably a given that I would write about "Breaking Dawn" this weekend, but even I didn't anticipate what would strike me about the movie.
Of course, there's the beautiful wedding. There's the love story. There's the drama of death giving birth to new life. There are so many possible topics.
But what really grabbed my attention about the way "Breaking Dawn" is brought to life on film is the story of belonging, and the significance of that feeling to our lives.
The most obvious portrayal of belonging is the Quileute wolf pack. Because of the tight bonds within the pack, one member can't think without the other members hearing the thought. They operate as a unity. They belong together.
Less obvious, but equally compelling as the substantive bonds are tightened, is the sense of belonging within the Cullen Clan. The members of the Cullen family are related by venom, not blood, but as they struggle to support, love and protect each other, their bonds are no less strong than if they truly were family.
When Bella's seemingly foolhardy decision to follow through with her "vampire" pregnancy puts the Cullen Clan at even greater odds with the Quileute pack, the two groups seem destined to rip each other to shreds. Up to this point, the two have endured a quiet and uneasy peace--both groups honoring a treaty that allows both to coexist in an otherwise intolerable scenario.
Bella believed she was trading her human life with the potential of traditional marriage and family for a forever fantasy as a vampire. Her fantasy comes crashing to the Earth as the impossibility of motherhood creates a connection with something even stronger than the connection she has with Edward. The connection of motherhood and family is actually strong enough to die for.
We watch as Bella's connections to her human life seem to be unraveling. As she leaves for her honeymoon, she is saying good by to her human family. Until this point, Bella's connection has appeared to be loose at best. It is only when she must cut her ties that the choice of giving up those connections becomes real. She seems only to truly understand the meaning of her connection with her family group when she is leaving it behind.
These kinds of strong connections become a common theme in the book as well as the movie, but the movie projects the theme so profoundly that it is easy to identify with the pain and struggle we all experience when those kinds of connections come under threat or are coming apart.
As Jacob watches Bella wasting away, the connection he has with her begins to deteriorate as well. As he struggles to cope with Bella's choice, he forms a bond with his enemies that becomes stronger than the bond he shares with his fellow pack members. The bond is strengthened because everyone is pulling together to save Bella's life. The bond within the Quileute pack strengthens because of biology and the threat that Bella's choice presents to the greater humanity the wolves have vowed to protect.
Sometimes connections falter because of such choices. Sometimes our strong bonds are challenged by our convictions and what we know in our hearts is right. We find ourselves on the outside--on the periphery of the "packs" of which we have long been a part. At those times, we find the pain of our struggle to do what's right equal to the pain of the connections that loosen.
Bella's decision to sacrifice herself for the life of her child, destroys the uneasy peace between the Quileute pack and the Cullen Clan. Two groups who had worked together to turn away the threat of Victoria and her newborns find themselves at irreconcilable odds and the only solution is to fight each other to save what each group is unwilling to sacrifice--be it principle or family, respectively.
The chaotic struggle is difficult to watch, in part because ultimately both groups actually share the same values, but express those values in different ways. Both share the desire to protect innocent life, but they differ on the definition of innocent.
I think we all find ourselves in those situations, though probably not to the same dramatic degree. We're often trying to go the same direction as others, but have different ideas about how to get there. We sometimes let those differing ideas separate us, instead of working hard to protect our connections and to pull together. Our group dynamics and connections with each other become fragmented and torn.
If you've read this far, it's probably because you know the story of Edward and Bella, and you know that Bella survives her gamble and that the child from her union with Edward survives. If you know all that, you also know that Jacob finds himself irrevocably connected to Bella and Edward's child.
In the end, it is connection that saves us. It is connection that gives us our sense of hope, meaning, and self. Whether those connections are with our family groups or with groups of close friends, they are no less invaluable for us. In those moments where the connections are injured, we don't always know how we will be drawn back together. Sometimes, we are restrung by the shared values we have to rediscover, or a future that arrives before we know how to see it.
We belong.
We Belong--Pat Benatar
Of course, there's the beautiful wedding. There's the love story. There's the drama of death giving birth to new life. There are so many possible topics.
But what really grabbed my attention about the way "Breaking Dawn" is brought to life on film is the story of belonging, and the significance of that feeling to our lives.
The most obvious portrayal of belonging is the Quileute wolf pack. Because of the tight bonds within the pack, one member can't think without the other members hearing the thought. They operate as a unity. They belong together.
Less obvious, but equally compelling as the substantive bonds are tightened, is the sense of belonging within the Cullen Clan. The members of the Cullen family are related by venom, not blood, but as they struggle to support, love and protect each other, their bonds are no less strong than if they truly were family.
When Bella's seemingly foolhardy decision to follow through with her "vampire" pregnancy puts the Cullen Clan at even greater odds with the Quileute pack, the two groups seem destined to rip each other to shreds. Up to this point, the two have endured a quiet and uneasy peace--both groups honoring a treaty that allows both to coexist in an otherwise intolerable scenario.
Bella believed she was trading her human life with the potential of traditional marriage and family for a forever fantasy as a vampire. Her fantasy comes crashing to the Earth as the impossibility of motherhood creates a connection with something even stronger than the connection she has with Edward. The connection of motherhood and family is actually strong enough to die for.
We watch as Bella's connections to her human life seem to be unraveling. As she leaves for her honeymoon, she is saying good by to her human family. Until this point, Bella's connection has appeared to be loose at best. It is only when she must cut her ties that the choice of giving up those connections becomes real. She seems only to truly understand the meaning of her connection with her family group when she is leaving it behind.
These kinds of strong connections become a common theme in the book as well as the movie, but the movie projects the theme so profoundly that it is easy to identify with the pain and struggle we all experience when those kinds of connections come under threat or are coming apart.
As Jacob watches Bella wasting away, the connection he has with her begins to deteriorate as well. As he struggles to cope with Bella's choice, he forms a bond with his enemies that becomes stronger than the bond he shares with his fellow pack members. The bond is strengthened because everyone is pulling together to save Bella's life. The bond within the Quileute pack strengthens because of biology and the threat that Bella's choice presents to the greater humanity the wolves have vowed to protect.
Sometimes connections falter because of such choices. Sometimes our strong bonds are challenged by our convictions and what we know in our hearts is right. We find ourselves on the outside--on the periphery of the "packs" of which we have long been a part. At those times, we find the pain of our struggle to do what's right equal to the pain of the connections that loosen.
Bella's decision to sacrifice herself for the life of her child, destroys the uneasy peace between the Quileute pack and the Cullen Clan. Two groups who had worked together to turn away the threat of Victoria and her newborns find themselves at irreconcilable odds and the only solution is to fight each other to save what each group is unwilling to sacrifice--be it principle or family, respectively.
The chaotic struggle is difficult to watch, in part because ultimately both groups actually share the same values, but express those values in different ways. Both share the desire to protect innocent life, but they differ on the definition of innocent.
I think we all find ourselves in those situations, though probably not to the same dramatic degree. We're often trying to go the same direction as others, but have different ideas about how to get there. We sometimes let those differing ideas separate us, instead of working hard to protect our connections and to pull together. Our group dynamics and connections with each other become fragmented and torn.
If you've read this far, it's probably because you know the story of Edward and Bella, and you know that Bella survives her gamble and that the child from her union with Edward survives. If you know all that, you also know that Jacob finds himself irrevocably connected to Bella and Edward's child.
In the end, it is connection that saves us. It is connection that gives us our sense of hope, meaning, and self. Whether those connections are with our family groups or with groups of close friends, they are no less invaluable for us. In those moments where the connections are injured, we don't always know how we will be drawn back together. Sometimes, we are restrung by the shared values we have to rediscover, or a future that arrives before we know how to see it.
We belong.
We Belong--Pat Benatar
Saturday, November 12, 2011
November 12, 2011--We've got game! Now, where is our human decency?
So, I don't care about any sport or any game of any kind.
I play a few computer games on Facebook, but I won't allow myself to obsess over them. I play them to unwind my brain at the end of the day, not to fill time. I used to like playing kickball and soccer in elementary school, but I was never athletic, and I was always picked for teams near the tail end. I was always destined to be...more...academic.
For a few short years, I enjoyed the Tour de France, but that was before I realized how completely out of the realm of possibility it was that these guys could actually climb a mountain on a bike without chemical assistance. I still have my very favorite French cyclist that I want to believe is clean, but I know that this is just denial on my part.
I know a lot of people who are obsessed with different sports and teams, and they spend a great deal of their time following them. I'm not going to lie, I find it annoying. Until this week, I was content to keep my feelings about sports and games to myself. For one, who really cares what I think? For two, is any of this really hurting anyone?
I'm perfectly fine with nobody caring what I think, but to be honest, after this week, I really do believe that all of this is hurting people.
As the reports from Penn State have flooded the media, something I've often thought but never voiced seems to be screaming at me. Football at Penn State was so important to the university and the community that instead of protecting children from abuse, these incidents were swept under the carpet and ignored. The value of football was greater than the value of these boys. It makes me really sad, and it speaks volumes about a wide reaching problem in our society.
As kids grow up and play games, sometimes, their very futures are tied to the success they achieve in relation to the ball by their foot, or the one hitting the rim of the net. Some kids have no hope of being able to afford higher education without scholarships associated with games. Sadly, when they get to school, they often struggle to balance purpose. On the one hand, they are in college to pursue an education and create a better future for themselves, on the other, they are there to play ball and bring dollars to the schools they represent.
In recent months and years scandals have rocked several athletics programs. Kids barely have enough money to pay for food and essentials, they can't receive additional gifts or funding, but universities are welcome to watch the dough roll in for ticket sales, concessions and merchandising on the backs of these young men and women. I recently heard an interview with a former college athlete who mentioned not having any groceries in his fridge during a radio interview. He got in trouble because someone gave him a bag of groceries and this infraction was discovered. Now, I'm not saying college kids should be paid to play basketball or football for their schools--or any sport for that matter, but I don't think it's ethical for schools to benefit so greatly as their athletic scholars struggle to make ends meet.
I also understand that not every student riding in on a football scholarship has the commitment and intent to complete any degree. Many are hoping to be scouted out for professional teams and going to college is just a pit stop on the way to bigger, better things. I wish the financial benefits for schools were not outweighed by their original purpose--educating people. It makes me sad that "students" like these get a full ride scholarship while a non-athletic 'B' student has to saddle themselves with student loans or settle for community college in order to get an education.
At the end of the day, I think alumni and fans forget that universities were founded for something other than games. I often wonder what sacrifices other programs have to make in order to financially support this addiction that is completely unrelated to education. And I know some people will say that team sports impart a kind of education. They help those who truly are committed develop discipline, work ethic and a sense of teamwork, but I can think of a thousand other ways to instill those lessons that don't require a coach to be paid a million dollar plus salary. And I certainly don't think it's required that these individuals should be so valued by their communities that when they fail to protect a child and are fired for it that we should all be outraged.
Professional sports aren't any better.
I mentioned cycling, but many other more popular sports are dogged by allegations of substance abuse. The public's hunger for stronger, faster, longer, tempts athletes to inject themselves with steroids, growth hormones, testosterone and a whole host of other things. Some are so obsessed with winning and beating the tests designed to catch them, that they will go to insane lengths.
We delight in giant, fat men pounding into each other like mountain goats during mating season--probably in hopes that we will see one of them fall and potentially suffer horrible injury. I know that sports can lead to injury and these athletes choose to play professionally, knowing full well the possible consequences, but if we didn't watch, they wouldn't be paid millions to have the crap knocked out of themselves and their brains scrambled. I used to blame the athletes--after all, if they are arrogant enough to think that they can receive concussion after concussion and not suffer long term health concerns, they're the fools. But without the blood, where's the show?
When you think about it, all of this sports spectating isn't all that different from the "fun" of another arena--the Roman arenas. You know, the ones where gladiators hacked each other to bits and slaves and Christians were fed to animals? All in the name of entertainment.
What kills me about all of this is the fact that it isn't killing anyone else. Nobody is looking at what happened at Penn State and asking the important question: When did money and entertainment become so important that the safety of children, the education of our students, and the well-being of our fellow humans became an after thought, and are we going to do something about it?
I realize that I might be picked last for this team, but from a purely academic standpoint, it seems to me that addressing this issue at its core is a no brainer.
Games Without Frontiers--Peter Gabriel
I play a few computer games on Facebook, but I won't allow myself to obsess over them. I play them to unwind my brain at the end of the day, not to fill time. I used to like playing kickball and soccer in elementary school, but I was never athletic, and I was always picked for teams near the tail end. I was always destined to be...more...academic.
For a few short years, I enjoyed the Tour de France, but that was before I realized how completely out of the realm of possibility it was that these guys could actually climb a mountain on a bike without chemical assistance. I still have my very favorite French cyclist that I want to believe is clean, but I know that this is just denial on my part.
I know a lot of people who are obsessed with different sports and teams, and they spend a great deal of their time following them. I'm not going to lie, I find it annoying. Until this week, I was content to keep my feelings about sports and games to myself. For one, who really cares what I think? For two, is any of this really hurting anyone?
I'm perfectly fine with nobody caring what I think, but to be honest, after this week, I really do believe that all of this is hurting people.
As the reports from Penn State have flooded the media, something I've often thought but never voiced seems to be screaming at me. Football at Penn State was so important to the university and the community that instead of protecting children from abuse, these incidents were swept under the carpet and ignored. The value of football was greater than the value of these boys. It makes me really sad, and it speaks volumes about a wide reaching problem in our society.
As kids grow up and play games, sometimes, their very futures are tied to the success they achieve in relation to the ball by their foot, or the one hitting the rim of the net. Some kids have no hope of being able to afford higher education without scholarships associated with games. Sadly, when they get to school, they often struggle to balance purpose. On the one hand, they are in college to pursue an education and create a better future for themselves, on the other, they are there to play ball and bring dollars to the schools they represent.
In recent months and years scandals have rocked several athletics programs. Kids barely have enough money to pay for food and essentials, they can't receive additional gifts or funding, but universities are welcome to watch the dough roll in for ticket sales, concessions and merchandising on the backs of these young men and women. I recently heard an interview with a former college athlete who mentioned not having any groceries in his fridge during a radio interview. He got in trouble because someone gave him a bag of groceries and this infraction was discovered. Now, I'm not saying college kids should be paid to play basketball or football for their schools--or any sport for that matter, but I don't think it's ethical for schools to benefit so greatly as their athletic scholars struggle to make ends meet.
I also understand that not every student riding in on a football scholarship has the commitment and intent to complete any degree. Many are hoping to be scouted out for professional teams and going to college is just a pit stop on the way to bigger, better things. I wish the financial benefits for schools were not outweighed by their original purpose--educating people. It makes me sad that "students" like these get a full ride scholarship while a non-athletic 'B' student has to saddle themselves with student loans or settle for community college in order to get an education.
At the end of the day, I think alumni and fans forget that universities were founded for something other than games. I often wonder what sacrifices other programs have to make in order to financially support this addiction that is completely unrelated to education. And I know some people will say that team sports impart a kind of education. They help those who truly are committed develop discipline, work ethic and a sense of teamwork, but I can think of a thousand other ways to instill those lessons that don't require a coach to be paid a million dollar plus salary. And I certainly don't think it's required that these individuals should be so valued by their communities that when they fail to protect a child and are fired for it that we should all be outraged.
Professional sports aren't any better.
I mentioned cycling, but many other more popular sports are dogged by allegations of substance abuse. The public's hunger for stronger, faster, longer, tempts athletes to inject themselves with steroids, growth hormones, testosterone and a whole host of other things. Some are so obsessed with winning and beating the tests designed to catch them, that they will go to insane lengths.
We delight in giant, fat men pounding into each other like mountain goats during mating season--probably in hopes that we will see one of them fall and potentially suffer horrible injury. I know that sports can lead to injury and these athletes choose to play professionally, knowing full well the possible consequences, but if we didn't watch, they wouldn't be paid millions to have the crap knocked out of themselves and their brains scrambled. I used to blame the athletes--after all, if they are arrogant enough to think that they can receive concussion after concussion and not suffer long term health concerns, they're the fools. But without the blood, where's the show?
When you think about it, all of this sports spectating isn't all that different from the "fun" of another arena--the Roman arenas. You know, the ones where gladiators hacked each other to bits and slaves and Christians were fed to animals? All in the name of entertainment.
What kills me about all of this is the fact that it isn't killing anyone else. Nobody is looking at what happened at Penn State and asking the important question: When did money and entertainment become so important that the safety of children, the education of our students, and the well-being of our fellow humans became an after thought, and are we going to do something about it?
I realize that I might be picked last for this team, but from a purely academic standpoint, it seems to me that addressing this issue at its core is a no brainer.
Games Without Frontiers--Peter Gabriel
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
November 9, 2011--Achtung: In order to tear down walls, you have to build them.
So, I know that I've written about U2 a time or two, and while it may seem a little bit self-indulgent, it seems like every time I turn around, they have something to teach me.
"From the Sky Down" is a fantastic documentary about the making of one of the greatest U2 albums ever made--"Achtung Baby," and it's a revealing look into a world of creativity that is both unusual, and hardly ever seen.
"Achtung Baby" is the album that almost wasn't, from a band that almost died an early death. Interestingly, I always considered its great predecessor "The Joshua Tree" to be raw and gritty, but in retrospect, I think it was so conceptually gritty that it became diametrically polished and it tried to turn U2 into something they weren't ready to be--superstars. For all of its deep, earthy soul, it was slicker than a wet banana.
I don't want to discount "The Joshua Tree." Sometimes, I think it saved my life; as I lay flat on my bedroom floor with it blaring out of a speaker next to my head, day after day, in hopes that it would somehow carry me away from my mad existence. Its haunting imagery and heart-twisting melodies are undeniably some of the greatest music of my time. No one was prepared for something so great from a band that had just barely squeaked through to the mainstream. "The Joshua Tree" was the foundation to a career and a life that would have overwhelmed anyone. The boys of U2 thought they were smart. They thought they could build something real on top of something that became a legend. Legends are like the great pyramids--built on sand.
While the film "Rattle and Hum" may have appeared to be a self-indulgent, somewhat mind-numbing fiasco, I think the premise was sincere. It documented the growing pains of these four young men, and opened a window on their discovery of American music that had not quite reached them--they were probably listening to the Ramones turned up way too loud. Its soundtrack opened the window to some of this great American music for me as well. B.B. King didn't even register with me before "love came to town."
By the time the tour supporting "The Joshua Tree," and the release of "Rattle and Hum" had left them in a anti-climactic daze, U2 couldn't go back, and they didn't know how to go forward. It's as if they had sunken every bit of what they could be into eleven tracks that were now too far behind them to be seen in their rear view mirror. What else did they have to say?
When they met in Berlin, just about a year after the wall had been brought down, it appeared that four new walls had gone up, presenting barriers every bit as strong as the stone structure that had separated East from West. Everything they tried fell flat. Nothing they threw at each others' walls could get through. They struggled, nearly failing. At a point, not one of them knew if all the fighting and struggle was even worth it, or who they even wanted to be anymore.
If not for the riff on a guitar, these four walls would have brought U2 crumbling down.
As someone who writes, I am in love with words. Sometimes I see or hear them in my mind and know that they are something special. I've always assumed that most people who write probably feel the same way. I've always assumed that lyrics and melody get matched up like the edges of two pieces of fabric and they are just pinned together before someone comes along and stitches them up. Under the influence of Edgar Allan Poe, I picture most music as nothing more or less than poetry set to music. Bono proved me wrong. He doesn't create in lyrics, he creates in melodic intent. Much to my surprise, he doesn't so much scat, as he moans and wails, all in an effort to take the melody in the direction he wants his voice to go.
And that's what he did with the song that probably saved them--actually one of my least favorites, probably because in its anthem-like nature, it has become one of the most overplayed, over utilized songs ever written. "One."
We're one, but we're not the same.
We get to carry each other, carry each other... one
"One" U2
Yeah, "One" is a love song, but it wasn't written about a woman, it was written about the walls--the divisions between people who are so close that they get in each others' way while they're trying to share a great love.
What makes "Achtung Baby" so special, twenty years on, is the fact that as heavily layered, synthesized and piled upon as the music is, it's actually a stripped down version of U2. It's U2 in the raw. It's U2 trying to figure out where to go from the well-done slab of "The Joshua Tree." They strike at each other and everyone else, and they connect while they tear down their own walls.
U2 got to the end of "The Joshua Tree" in a fast car, only to find out they ran out of road. They had to decide whether to drive off the edge or to drive into the ditch. Over the years they have been criticized for everything. They've strayed too far from their foundation. They've driven in a circle. They've leaped off the cliff.
U2 is an awful lot like the Berlin Wall. In one of the online histories about the wall, it is said that the fall of the Berlin Wall began with its building. You can't build something without the pieces, and sometimes, you have to tear something apart to get the scraps you need to put it back together and make it something real.
As much as "The Joshua Tree" saved my life, "Achtung Baby" gave me a new birth. It was delivered twenty years ago as I was trying to figure out who I was going to be--finally without anyone else's help. I'd spent nearly twenty of my own years building walls. "Achtung" was the beginning of me learning how to tear them down.
When I was all messed up and I heard opera in my head
Your love was a light bulb hanging over my bed.
Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way.
"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)" U2
I like to think that in some ways, I am currently under construction--or at least renovation.
"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)--U2 (Rose Bowl 360 Tour)
"From the Sky Down" is a fantastic documentary about the making of one of the greatest U2 albums ever made--"Achtung Baby," and it's a revealing look into a world of creativity that is both unusual, and hardly ever seen.
"Achtung Baby" is the album that almost wasn't, from a band that almost died an early death. Interestingly, I always considered its great predecessor "The Joshua Tree" to be raw and gritty, but in retrospect, I think it was so conceptually gritty that it became diametrically polished and it tried to turn U2 into something they weren't ready to be--superstars. For all of its deep, earthy soul, it was slicker than a wet banana.
I don't want to discount "The Joshua Tree." Sometimes, I think it saved my life; as I lay flat on my bedroom floor with it blaring out of a speaker next to my head, day after day, in hopes that it would somehow carry me away from my mad existence. Its haunting imagery and heart-twisting melodies are undeniably some of the greatest music of my time. No one was prepared for something so great from a band that had just barely squeaked through to the mainstream. "The Joshua Tree" was the foundation to a career and a life that would have overwhelmed anyone. The boys of U2 thought they were smart. They thought they could build something real on top of something that became a legend. Legends are like the great pyramids--built on sand.
While the film "Rattle and Hum" may have appeared to be a self-indulgent, somewhat mind-numbing fiasco, I think the premise was sincere. It documented the growing pains of these four young men, and opened a window on their discovery of American music that had not quite reached them--they were probably listening to the Ramones turned up way too loud. Its soundtrack opened the window to some of this great American music for me as well. B.B. King didn't even register with me before "love came to town."
By the time the tour supporting "The Joshua Tree," and the release of "Rattle and Hum" had left them in a anti-climactic daze, U2 couldn't go back, and they didn't know how to go forward. It's as if they had sunken every bit of what they could be into eleven tracks that were now too far behind them to be seen in their rear view mirror. What else did they have to say?
When they met in Berlin, just about a year after the wall had been brought down, it appeared that four new walls had gone up, presenting barriers every bit as strong as the stone structure that had separated East from West. Everything they tried fell flat. Nothing they threw at each others' walls could get through. They struggled, nearly failing. At a point, not one of them knew if all the fighting and struggle was even worth it, or who they even wanted to be anymore.
If not for the riff on a guitar, these four walls would have brought U2 crumbling down.
As someone who writes, I am in love with words. Sometimes I see or hear them in my mind and know that they are something special. I've always assumed that most people who write probably feel the same way. I've always assumed that lyrics and melody get matched up like the edges of two pieces of fabric and they are just pinned together before someone comes along and stitches them up. Under the influence of Edgar Allan Poe, I picture most music as nothing more or less than poetry set to music. Bono proved me wrong. He doesn't create in lyrics, he creates in melodic intent. Much to my surprise, he doesn't so much scat, as he moans and wails, all in an effort to take the melody in the direction he wants his voice to go.
And that's what he did with the song that probably saved them--actually one of my least favorites, probably because in its anthem-like nature, it has become one of the most overplayed, over utilized songs ever written. "One."
We're one, but we're not the same.
We get to carry each other, carry each other... one
"One" U2
Yeah, "One" is a love song, but it wasn't written about a woman, it was written about the walls--the divisions between people who are so close that they get in each others' way while they're trying to share a great love.
What makes "Achtung Baby" so special, twenty years on, is the fact that as heavily layered, synthesized and piled upon as the music is, it's actually a stripped down version of U2. It's U2 in the raw. It's U2 trying to figure out where to go from the well-done slab of "The Joshua Tree." They strike at each other and everyone else, and they connect while they tear down their own walls.
U2 got to the end of "The Joshua Tree" in a fast car, only to find out they ran out of road. They had to decide whether to drive off the edge or to drive into the ditch. Over the years they have been criticized for everything. They've strayed too far from their foundation. They've driven in a circle. They've leaped off the cliff.
U2 is an awful lot like the Berlin Wall. In one of the online histories about the wall, it is said that the fall of the Berlin Wall began with its building. You can't build something without the pieces, and sometimes, you have to tear something apart to get the scraps you need to put it back together and make it something real.
As much as "The Joshua Tree" saved my life, "Achtung Baby" gave me a new birth. It was delivered twenty years ago as I was trying to figure out who I was going to be--finally without anyone else's help. I'd spent nearly twenty of my own years building walls. "Achtung" was the beginning of me learning how to tear them down.
When I was all messed up and I heard opera in my head
Your love was a light bulb hanging over my bed.
Baby, baby, baby, light my way.
Oh, come on, baby, baby, baby, light my way.
"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)" U2
I like to think that in some ways, I am currently under construction--or at least renovation.
"Ultraviolet (Light My Way)--U2 (Rose Bowl 360 Tour)
Sunday, November 6, 2011
November 6, 2011--Friendship finds you, even if it's not supposed to
So, a few months ago, I went to see "The Help" with a friend I hadn't seen in a while. One of the things that struck me about the story is the fact that in certain working situations, it's impossible not to develop bonds with people, even if those bonds are not in our own political interest.
The African American women working in the homes of the Southern elite developed strong bonds with the children they cared for. In many cases, these care givers also provided the core foundation of values, self-worth and nurturing their biological mothers would not or could not. The terrible thing--as they reached adulthood, those bonds unraveled in favor of what was deemed appropriate within that societal construct.
It seemed to me a cruel injustice on top of equally cruel treatment on a day-to-day basis.
There were many elements of "The Help" that triggered feelings within me. It's a powerful story. Sometimes, I think, some stories are so powerful, it's impossible to know what to do with them because there are too many messages there for us to process at once.
I work in a field that can be very emotionally charged. One moment, I'm saying goodbye to a patient I have known for many years, and in the next moment, I am meeting a new patient that I hope to know for many years. And every place in between, I am filling the gaps and holes that providing care to all of these patients creates--always in support of my doctors.
We do all of these things together, and everything I do is in support of them. I am not a doctor. I thought I wanted to be for about half a day around twelve years ago, but I looked at the list of classes I didn't want to take and decided that it was definitely not for me. It doesn't matter how many people tell me that I could do it, I choose not to. I prefer to be part of the mortar that holds everything together, because it affords me the opportunity to help communicate and put into action how much the doctors I work with really care.
In my field, doctors are always considered leaders, even if I worked with them while they were still in school, learning their practice--even if I was there the first time they saw a patient with a broken toenail and didn't know what to do. In my field, I help bring new doctors up right, and I do my best to step away into the background when they find their own way. I usually come to love them, like they are "my own." The lines of leadership and friendship blur.
I'm guessing it works much the same way in human medicine and in fields where people rely on each other for the kind of support that can save or change a life. I don't want to diminish the relationships coworkers form in other kinds of work, but I just don't think it's the same.
In "The Help," Skeeter comes home from college to find that the African American maid in her household has been let go because her visiting daughter is impetuous enough to ignore decorum and walks in through the front door of the house, instead of the back. Skeeter and Constantine's shared bond was so strong, that Constantine presumably dies from a broken heart over the loss.
Skeeter unwittingly becomes the champion of all of the African American maids in her Southern community when she decides to tell their stories and shine a light on the inequities of the culture. She breaks the mold. She befriends these ladies, even though she knows doing so will only garner her ostracization within her social circle and community.
What makes Skeeter a hero is the recognition of the power of the relationships these women build, and the critical role they often play in the lives of the children they help to raise. She recognizes their humanity in a culture that lives under the doily covered table of inhumanity. Through the course of watching these women suffer through their lives being turned upside down by Skeeter's book about them, the true revelation is the value of these lives, and the value they impart to the lives they touch. It's clear that those tightly woven bonds serve a purpose--they are integral to creating trust, independence, and a sense of shared destiny.
Sometimes, as I am supporting my doctors, and even my coworkers, it occurs to me that we are all going through the same horrible and wonderful things together. We are all impacted--sometimes in different ways, and sometimes at different times. Yesterday, for example, was my first day back at work after ten days away. I was horribly inefficient and by mid-day, my back hurt so bad I just wanted us all to get through. My doctor's back was horrible too. We had to say goodbye to a patient way too soon--a crushing blow to my doctor, who was heartbroken. At the time, I couldn't think about it. I was busy filling any holes I could. This morning, as I met a new patient with the same name as the one we lost yesterday, the loss hit me like a freight train.
I was really glad my friend--my doctor--was there today.
"With a Little Help From My Friends" The Beatles
The African American women working in the homes of the Southern elite developed strong bonds with the children they cared for. In many cases, these care givers also provided the core foundation of values, self-worth and nurturing their biological mothers would not or could not. The terrible thing--as they reached adulthood, those bonds unraveled in favor of what was deemed appropriate within that societal construct.
It seemed to me a cruel injustice on top of equally cruel treatment on a day-to-day basis.
There were many elements of "The Help" that triggered feelings within me. It's a powerful story. Sometimes, I think, some stories are so powerful, it's impossible to know what to do with them because there are too many messages there for us to process at once.
I work in a field that can be very emotionally charged. One moment, I'm saying goodbye to a patient I have known for many years, and in the next moment, I am meeting a new patient that I hope to know for many years. And every place in between, I am filling the gaps and holes that providing care to all of these patients creates--always in support of my doctors.
We do all of these things together, and everything I do is in support of them. I am not a doctor. I thought I wanted to be for about half a day around twelve years ago, but I looked at the list of classes I didn't want to take and decided that it was definitely not for me. It doesn't matter how many people tell me that I could do it, I choose not to. I prefer to be part of the mortar that holds everything together, because it affords me the opportunity to help communicate and put into action how much the doctors I work with really care.
In my field, doctors are always considered leaders, even if I worked with them while they were still in school, learning their practice--even if I was there the first time they saw a patient with a broken toenail and didn't know what to do. In my field, I help bring new doctors up right, and I do my best to step away into the background when they find their own way. I usually come to love them, like they are "my own." The lines of leadership and friendship blur.
I'm guessing it works much the same way in human medicine and in fields where people rely on each other for the kind of support that can save or change a life. I don't want to diminish the relationships coworkers form in other kinds of work, but I just don't think it's the same.
In "The Help," Skeeter comes home from college to find that the African American maid in her household has been let go because her visiting daughter is impetuous enough to ignore decorum and walks in through the front door of the house, instead of the back. Skeeter and Constantine's shared bond was so strong, that Constantine presumably dies from a broken heart over the loss.
Skeeter unwittingly becomes the champion of all of the African American maids in her Southern community when she decides to tell their stories and shine a light on the inequities of the culture. She breaks the mold. She befriends these ladies, even though she knows doing so will only garner her ostracization within her social circle and community.
What makes Skeeter a hero is the recognition of the power of the relationships these women build, and the critical role they often play in the lives of the children they help to raise. She recognizes their humanity in a culture that lives under the doily covered table of inhumanity. Through the course of watching these women suffer through their lives being turned upside down by Skeeter's book about them, the true revelation is the value of these lives, and the value they impart to the lives they touch. It's clear that those tightly woven bonds serve a purpose--they are integral to creating trust, independence, and a sense of shared destiny.
Sometimes, as I am supporting my doctors, and even my coworkers, it occurs to me that we are all going through the same horrible and wonderful things together. We are all impacted--sometimes in different ways, and sometimes at different times. Yesterday, for example, was my first day back at work after ten days away. I was horribly inefficient and by mid-day, my back hurt so bad I just wanted us all to get through. My doctor's back was horrible too. We had to say goodbye to a patient way too soon--a crushing blow to my doctor, who was heartbroken. At the time, I couldn't think about it. I was busy filling any holes I could. This morning, as I met a new patient with the same name as the one we lost yesterday, the loss hit me like a freight train.
I was really glad my friend--my doctor--was there today.
"With a Little Help From My Friends" The Beatles
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
November 1, 2011--"If you don't expect too much from me, you might not be let down."
So, I think maybe I understand where disappointment originates. I don't mean anger, I mean disappointment.
Each of us has a standard norm that is built into our psyche by the way we were raised and the events that shape our lives. Expectations are a part of that.
Some examples: when I was growing up, it was the expectation that I would eat foods I didn't like, brush my teeth twice a day and clean my room. But things happening around me also shaped what I think people should be able to expect from me. I've often talked about my rough growing up years and how terrible my stepfather was, but I credit him for establishing many of those aforementioned expectations as well as a few he never explicitly told me about.
He was the the kind of person who never did anything halfway. If he worked on something for you, he was going to do a really good job on it, or keep doing it over until he got it right. He adored his parents above anyone else in his life and always wanted to please them. I remember that they had an old chest that had belonged to I think his great-grandfather and it was in horrible condition. My step-dad decided to turn this beat up hunk of junk into something my step-grandparents would be proud of. He spent weeks repainting it, down to the very intricate and delicate ivy pattern that covered the top. Soon after, he refurbished a chair for them with similar dedication and at a ridiculous cost in relation to our family's income.
He didn't really know anything about doing these kinds of things, but because they belonged to people he cared so deeply about, he was willing to stretch himself to learn and to spend almost all of his free time working on them, and whatever extra money he had. He did a lot of other things for his parents that were much less elaborate, but it was from acts like these that I learned when you really care about somebody, you go out of your way for them, even to the point of putting yourself out.
Sometimes, I think that feeling spills over, to perhaps a slightly lesser degree, for me in other relationships. Of course I would painstakingly seek out the perfect something for Jeph or for one of our family members, but sometimes, I would do the same thing for someone who I am not as close to. I have often gone overboard for someone else.
I think expecting this behavior as a norm for myself often translates to a disappointment in others. I'm sure we all have things we expect from ourselves that make us feel very confused or disappointed when other people don't share them with us.
We just came back from a trip we had been planning for months--three days early--all because our expectations did not align with those of someone we relied upon to care for the little creatures we care most about. We know the quirks of those little creatures better than anyone, and never sugar coat how annoying some of the things they do are, mostly because we want to set the real expectation that one of them has to get up very early in the morning to go out, sometimes multiple times, and neither one climbs or goes down stairs anymore. All the "things" were getting done, but the person we trusted not to make us worry about them so we could shut down for a week unleashed a multi-paragraph e-mail listing all the things they do that were giving her difficulty. We had expected more. We were horribly disappointed.
On the other hand, one of the great pleasures of our trip was to return to a restaurant I had eaten at in Salem, and enjoyed so much. I take as many opportunities as I can to let them know how much I enjoy their food and their service. We got to meet the general manager Friday night and had a lovely dinner. I expected nothing more than just to tell her personally how great everything was. When we received our check, we were surprised to learn that she had paid for a round of our drinks for us. We hadn't expected that.
In Philadelphia, the woman giving us a free tour of the Edgar Allan Poe National Historic Site recited lengthy passages of Poe's works to us as she took us throughout the house. The interesting thing about that is the fact that she only works at the site two days a week. I wouldn't have expected a park ranger who only spends two days out of her week there to be so enthusiastic. She even recommended an easier adaptation of "Eureka," a prose poem that is hundreds of pages long and extremely difficult to read. She advised me that it had made the work much less cumbersome for her to get through. I hadn't expected anyone to care about that work besides me, let alone a park ranger who only spends two days a week caring about Poe as much as I do.
We had expected the awkward conversation with our dog sitter when we got home. It went exactly the way I expected it would. I hadn't expected a wonderful package from a friend that gave me something to smile about besides the faces of our hounds.
So, I guess, in the end, expectations are a give and take. Sometimes we have to understand that our own expectations are frequently unrelated to, and completely unaligned with the expectations of others. It turns out our dog sitter had no idea anything she said to us in that e-mail had come across as negatively as it did. She hadn't expected that her words would make us give up three days of our trip. And you know, maybe we shouldn't have. But at the end of the day, you love your "kids" more than anyone else ever will, and even when they are royal pains, you don't want to hear that from someone else. It was nice to wake up with a dachshund practically Velcroed to my back, and another one pacing around the room because he wanted on the bed too.
All of this reminded me of the Gin Blossoms tune "Hey Jealousy," and one of the best and most applicable lyrics ever written: If you don't expect too much from me, you might not be let down.
I don't want to stop expecting good things from other people, but maybe setting the bar a little lower wouldn't be so bad.
Hey Jealousy--Gin Blossoms
Each of us has a standard norm that is built into our psyche by the way we were raised and the events that shape our lives. Expectations are a part of that.
Some examples: when I was growing up, it was the expectation that I would eat foods I didn't like, brush my teeth twice a day and clean my room. But things happening around me also shaped what I think people should be able to expect from me. I've often talked about my rough growing up years and how terrible my stepfather was, but I credit him for establishing many of those aforementioned expectations as well as a few he never explicitly told me about.
He was the the kind of person who never did anything halfway. If he worked on something for you, he was going to do a really good job on it, or keep doing it over until he got it right. He adored his parents above anyone else in his life and always wanted to please them. I remember that they had an old chest that had belonged to I think his great-grandfather and it was in horrible condition. My step-dad decided to turn this beat up hunk of junk into something my step-grandparents would be proud of. He spent weeks repainting it, down to the very intricate and delicate ivy pattern that covered the top. Soon after, he refurbished a chair for them with similar dedication and at a ridiculous cost in relation to our family's income.
He didn't really know anything about doing these kinds of things, but because they belonged to people he cared so deeply about, he was willing to stretch himself to learn and to spend almost all of his free time working on them, and whatever extra money he had. He did a lot of other things for his parents that were much less elaborate, but it was from acts like these that I learned when you really care about somebody, you go out of your way for them, even to the point of putting yourself out.
Sometimes, I think that feeling spills over, to perhaps a slightly lesser degree, for me in other relationships. Of course I would painstakingly seek out the perfect something for Jeph or for one of our family members, but sometimes, I would do the same thing for someone who I am not as close to. I have often gone overboard for someone else.
I think expecting this behavior as a norm for myself often translates to a disappointment in others. I'm sure we all have things we expect from ourselves that make us feel very confused or disappointed when other people don't share them with us.
We just came back from a trip we had been planning for months--three days early--all because our expectations did not align with those of someone we relied upon to care for the little creatures we care most about. We know the quirks of those little creatures better than anyone, and never sugar coat how annoying some of the things they do are, mostly because we want to set the real expectation that one of them has to get up very early in the morning to go out, sometimes multiple times, and neither one climbs or goes down stairs anymore. All the "things" were getting done, but the person we trusted not to make us worry about them so we could shut down for a week unleashed a multi-paragraph e-mail listing all the things they do that were giving her difficulty. We had expected more. We were horribly disappointed.
On the other hand, one of the great pleasures of our trip was to return to a restaurant I had eaten at in Salem, and enjoyed so much. I take as many opportunities as I can to let them know how much I enjoy their food and their service. We got to meet the general manager Friday night and had a lovely dinner. I expected nothing more than just to tell her personally how great everything was. When we received our check, we were surprised to learn that she had paid for a round of our drinks for us. We hadn't expected that.
In Philadelphia, the woman giving us a free tour of the Edgar Allan Poe National Historic Site recited lengthy passages of Poe's works to us as she took us throughout the house. The interesting thing about that is the fact that she only works at the site two days a week. I wouldn't have expected a park ranger who only spends two days out of her week there to be so enthusiastic. She even recommended an easier adaptation of "Eureka," a prose poem that is hundreds of pages long and extremely difficult to read. She advised me that it had made the work much less cumbersome for her to get through. I hadn't expected anyone to care about that work besides me, let alone a park ranger who only spends two days a week caring about Poe as much as I do.
We had expected the awkward conversation with our dog sitter when we got home. It went exactly the way I expected it would. I hadn't expected a wonderful package from a friend that gave me something to smile about besides the faces of our hounds.
So, I guess, in the end, expectations are a give and take. Sometimes we have to understand that our own expectations are frequently unrelated to, and completely unaligned with the expectations of others. It turns out our dog sitter had no idea anything she said to us in that e-mail had come across as negatively as it did. She hadn't expected that her words would make us give up three days of our trip. And you know, maybe we shouldn't have. But at the end of the day, you love your "kids" more than anyone else ever will, and even when they are royal pains, you don't want to hear that from someone else. It was nice to wake up with a dachshund practically Velcroed to my back, and another one pacing around the room because he wanted on the bed too.
All of this reminded me of the Gin Blossoms tune "Hey Jealousy," and one of the best and most applicable lyrics ever written: If you don't expect too much from me, you might not be let down.
I don't want to stop expecting good things from other people, but maybe setting the bar a little lower wouldn't be so bad.
Hey Jealousy--Gin Blossoms
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