When we moved into our new place, Uncle Pookie decided to get cable. Frivolous and unnecessary, sure, but I'll admit to watching more than I should and to liking the DVR feature. Mostly having television allows us to watch stuff we would have watched on DVD or Netflix streaming anyway, such as catching Burn Notice episodes as they air instead of a season at a time on DVD, but there's a new-to-us show we like called Sons of Guns. It's a reality show set in a gun shop in Baton Rouge. It's interesting subject matter and the owner of the shop reminds us of a friend of ours who died, so we enjoy watching.
Occasionally while watching the gunsmiths at work, it will cross my mind that these men have the kind of job that modern elites sneer at.
Every episode the guys at the gun shop are presented with a problem that they need to solve. They then have to use their seemingly vast knowledge of weaponry and tools and mechanics, plus good old human brainpower to figure out how to solve the problem. Then they have to test their solution and modify it as necessary. They are clearly thinking.
But it's largely manual work, you see: blue collar. A trade. Therefore of little value. There can be no creativity in it or satisfaction. Their school guidance counselors should have encouraged them a little harder to seek white collar work, preferably in the nonprofit world.
Or not. I touched on the fallacy of manual work being mindless once before here. And I was reminded of this stuff again when I read "Why your teenager can't use a hammer" today. (Link from a Mark Steyn post, which had an interesting follow up from John Derbyshire, who has been known to describe a particular education fad as the "No American Should Have to Do Manual Work" belief.) It is very interesting reading.
I'm also reminded by it of a news article last year, which had teachers in England saying that children were arriving at school poorly prepared to do math, because they had spent nearly all their playtime indoors watching screens, instead of manipulating real world objects; a specific example was children today not having the understanding that two differently shaped objects might still have the same volume that children who'd spent time playing with containers in a sandbox would have had. Playing in the dirt or with blocks and crayons instead of handheld game systems or just playing outside the constant oversight of adults for an hour or so turns out to have benefits in muscular development, brain development, and encouragement of independence. The "cotton wool generation" is missing out on a lot of experiences.
I'm buying my soon-to-arrive nephew a toy tool bench. It goes on the list with crayons and paper and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Showing posts with label attitudes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label attitudes. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Happy Pentecost
Happy Pentecost to any and all Christians reading this. To any Jewish people reading this, I hope you had a happy Shavuot. And to anyone reading this who doesn't know what Pentecost is, you can try here and here for some more information, but the short answer is that it commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit as described in the second chapter of the biblical book of Acts.
And since the word Pentecost makes many of us think of Pentecostalism, here's as good a place as any to mention one of the many things becoming Catholic has done for me: it got rid of my culturally-absorbed prejudice against Pentecostals. I grew up among fairly mainstream Baptists and Methodists in the American South and there was a bit of a prejudice against Pentecostals (though of course, it being the South, everyone was too polite to be rude about it to anyone's face). Pentecostals and Holiness people were often called by the derogatory term "holy rollers" and were considered to have unseemly and overemotional, even tacky, religious services. People shook their heads at what they'd heard those Pentecostals got up to, with their fervent preaching and shouting and falling out on the floor and talking in tongues and--especially hard for Baptists to take--dancing. Some mainstream women might also shake their heads at the grooming restrictions many Holiness women adhered to, with their lack of makeup and their long hair.
And since the word Pentecost makes many of us think of Pentecostalism, here's as good a place as any to mention one of the many things becoming Catholic has done for me: it got rid of my culturally-absorbed prejudice against Pentecostals. I grew up among fairly mainstream Baptists and Methodists in the American South and there was a bit of a prejudice against Pentecostals (though of course, it being the South, everyone was too polite to be rude about it to anyone's face). Pentecostals and Holiness people were often called by the derogatory term "holy rollers" and were considered to have unseemly and overemotional, even tacky, religious services. People shook their heads at what they'd heard those Pentecostals got up to, with their fervent preaching and shouting and falling out on the floor and talking in tongues and--especially hard for Baptists to take--dancing. Some mainstream women might also shake their heads at the grooming restrictions many Holiness women adhered to, with their lack of makeup and their long hair.
I absorbed some of this prejudice myself, although I'm not sure if I ever realized it before I had to read The Grapes of Wrath for a class and found the Pentecostal Joads irritating to read about.
The ugly truth is that class snobbery was what was behind a lot of the head shaking, not doctrinal problems. Kathleen Norris has written about this a bit in her book Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith. Pentecostals in the past often came from the poorer, less educated parts of society, and I think that still holds true, although I've heard that in the last twenty to thirty years the average wealth and education level has gone up. I think for some people a bit of that lower class tinge remains in their perception of Pentecostals.
For me, becoming Catholic got rid of my mild prejudice. For one thing I came into the Church on the Pentecost Vigil. That kind of makes you think about the Holy Spirit, even if you don't think that deeply. I believe in the Holy Spirit; I publicly affirm it along with my fellow Catholics every time I go to mass and privately every time I pray the rosary or the Divine Mercy chaplet. I believe in the Pentecost account in Acts. I believe in the gifts of the Holy Spirit and the fruits of the Holy Spirit, even if my understanding is not good. So why should I or anyone who believes these things be bothered by people seeking the Holy Spirit?
For another, I was baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The Catholic Church teaches that everyone who is baptized thusly is part of the Body of Christ, even if they are not in full communion with Rome, and thus all other Christians are my brothers and sisters in Christ. (Yes, I know some Pentecostals baptize in the name of Jesus only, but I figure they are at least trying, so I tend to think of them as siblings in Christ too.)
For another, I was made aware of Charismatic Catholics--Catholics who pay a lot of attention to the Holy Spirit and enjoy more emotionalized or "spirit-filled" devotions outside of mass; some of them even "pray in a spirit language" (i.e. "speak in tongues".) This is not attractive to me, but the Church is both worldwide and ancient, creating room for a multiplicity of personal devotional practices, no one of which will appeal to everyone--and that is fantastic.
For another, even before I came into the Church I was very attracted to the line in Galatians about there being neither Greek nor Jew, slave nor free, male nor female in Christ Jesus. That seems to me a clear indication that we are to leave our worldy considerations, such as class consciousness or wondering if other people's cultural-acquired preferences are "tacky" or not, outside the Church door. I also did a fair amount of thinking around the idea that God's standards are not our standards. Remember that Flannery O'Conner story in which the smugly self-content Southern farm lady has a vision of all kinds of poor people and freaks going up to heaven before her, shouting and clapping and dancing on their way? It's like that. With God, the last shall be first and the first shall be last. You only have to hear "blessed are the meek" to know you are not in worldy territory; this is not how we think, but how God thinks.
For another, as a Catholic I'm now part of a religion that a lot of people look down on and consider full of tacky things. Pilgrims going in bare feet or on their knees up the steps to a shrine--how gauche. Crucifixes with blood dripping from them--a little too real to be in good taste. The Sacred Heart--what's that about? The Way of the Cross? Probably something "ethnic" people do.
And for yet another thing, Catholics receive the fullness of the Holy Spirit at confirmation. No doubt that helped.
So why am I going on at such length about my having shed what was only ever a mild prejudice? Well, for starters I'm glad it's gone; I'm glad I'm no longer bigoted against Christians in general, no longer inclined to demean myself by sneering at "fundies", and no longer prejudiced against "holy rollers". For another, in a time when any stick will do to beat the Church, I think it's good to tell some of the good we find there, even something as minor as this. American society has for forty-plus years held up prejudice as the greatest of secular sins. Well, the Catholic Church helped rid me of one subset of prejudice. That is a good thing, right? She deserves props for it, right?
Monday, September 21, 2009
A Representative of the Kingdom
I heard an anecdote from my mother a while back. A preacher she knows said he went out of his house in an especially good mood one morning, and while he was on the way wherever he was going, he got behind a car that had a bumpersticker that said "Honk If You Love Jesus!" Being in a good mood and, as a minister, loving Jesus, he honked. Whereupon everyone in the car--the woman driving and her small children--all turned around and flipped him off.
He said it flattened his mood so much he turned around and went home.
People, this isn't the way to represent the body of Christ. When you identify yourself in public as a Christian,you become a representative of Christianity and thus of Christ. Flipping people off is bad PR.
When you slap a Jesus bumpersticker on your car, wear a tee-shirt with Christian slogans or graphics, or hang a big cross around your neck, you are proclaiming yourself a Christian, just the same as if you loudly announced, "I am a Christian" to all and sundry. Some of the people who see or hear your proclamation may not be familiar with Christianity or with the particular subgroup of Christianity you are a part of (if your announcement was, say, an XYZ Church Annual Picnic tee-shirt). Other of the people who see your proclamation may have a prior inclination to think negatively of Christians. So here you come saying "Honk If You Love Jesus" or "Follow Me to Church" and you proceed to act like a jackass. Which gives people in the former category a negative impression of Christians (or Christians of XYZ branch) and gives people in the latter group confirmation of their tendency to think badly of all Christians. Was that really what you wanted to do when you bought the bumpersticker?
Here's why I think this is going to become even more important than it used to be.
When you go somewhere you and your kin or kind are not much known, you become a representative of your group, like it or not. People in minority groups know this. Natalie Goldberg once wrote of going into a rural, Midwestern classroom and telling the kids she was Jewish; none of them knew anyone Jewish, so she figured that now she represented Jewish people to them--she was eating an apple, therefore all Jews eat apples sort of thing. Christians in America and perhaps especially in the Bible Belt have had the luxury of being in the majority for a long time. Even now something like 89 percent or more Americans self-identify as being at least nominally Christian. But that's going to change and do so sooner and faster than we are going to find comfortable. I'm not referring to immigrants from historically non-Christian parts of the world changing the demographics of our country. Already a lot of citizens who tick Christian subgroup XYZ or ABC on forms that ask religion could be more accurate by checking "other" and writing in "secularist who sometimes uses XYZ facilities for weddings and funerals and may bring out a manger scene tree ornament at Christmas". Throw in a little mild persecution and a great many of those people will fall away. And some of the people who remain will be people committed to redefining Christianity as something historically unrecognizable.
This means that practicing Christians will more and more often run into people who have never met a practicing Christian and have formed their view of the faith based almost wholly on the mockery of contemporary comedians and the vilification of our enemies. What you, as a known practicing Christian, do and say before such a person will either reinforce the negative opinion they've taken from pop culture or will be a witness against the caricature. Given that we're supposed to evangelize, which is better?
My point here is not to point fingers, but to point out the responsibility we take on when we display symbols that identify us as Christians. I've never worn any of those smarmy Christian tee-shirts that some people wear because I don't like them, but if I ever found one I liked, I would be reluctant to wear it in public, because it would make me feel under a greater obligation to mind myself. I do frequently wear a modest-sized Marian medal and I would hate it if I ever spoke nastily to someone or hit my shin and let out a stream of profanity and then had the people who witnessed this notice my medal; their seeing my behavior and thinking I am a jerk is one thing, their seeing my behavior and thinking Christians are jerks is another thing. I know I would hate this scenario because I let something like it happen once. (So if there were a finger pointing, it would have to point at me as well.)
Some years back I noticed myself getting angry while driving more and more often and I didn't like it. So, although I've never liked things dangling from rearview mirrors, when I got a free plastic rosary in the mail, I decided to hang it from my rearview mirror as a reminder to remember Jesus and not get angry and mutter bad things about other drivers. And it worked pretty well for weeks. Then I lost my temper worse than I ever had while driving.
I had to go pick up some medicine or something at Wal-mart and, unfortunately this was on the day before a hurricane might or might not hit us, and it was afternoon. Leaving the store after having suffered through the crowd inside, I ended up in the most godawful snarl of parking lot traffic likely to be seen in a small town. After what seemed like ages of this and escape to a less congested area seemed nigh, I witnessed a bit of what I took to be insane driving and someone nearly hit me, and I flipped out and did something I'd never before done while driving: angrily thrust two upturned fingers toward my window, while shouting the air blue.
But there's Jesus. Before I had even calmed down, I was overcome with remorse: Suppose they saw the rosary dangling from my mirror and thought all Catholics act like this? I felt horrible about it. Now, maybe it would be a finer thing to say I thought only of the wrongness of the act itself or of how sin hurts Jesus, rather than how I might have created a negative impression of my group of Christians. But if I were pure of heart, I probably wouldn't have snapped like that in the first place, and the results were good: my little bout of road rage ended, I became a much calmer driver for years after, and I found myself glancing over at my little plastic depiction of Jesus quite often.
And that's the good part of displaying symbols of our faith on or about our person: they make us think of God more often. The "bad" part of course is that they require we take on a responsibility to act as representatives of our faith; it's harder to hide when we're wearing a sign. And maybe that's a good part too.
He said it flattened his mood so much he turned around and went home.
People, this isn't the way to represent the body of Christ. When you identify yourself in public as a Christian,you become a representative of Christianity and thus of Christ. Flipping people off is bad PR.
When you slap a Jesus bumpersticker on your car, wear a tee-shirt with Christian slogans or graphics, or hang a big cross around your neck, you are proclaiming yourself a Christian, just the same as if you loudly announced, "I am a Christian" to all and sundry. Some of the people who see or hear your proclamation may not be familiar with Christianity or with the particular subgroup of Christianity you are a part of (if your announcement was, say, an XYZ Church Annual Picnic tee-shirt). Other of the people who see your proclamation may have a prior inclination to think negatively of Christians. So here you come saying "Honk If You Love Jesus" or "Follow Me to Church" and you proceed to act like a jackass. Which gives people in the former category a negative impression of Christians (or Christians of XYZ branch) and gives people in the latter group confirmation of their tendency to think badly of all Christians. Was that really what you wanted to do when you bought the bumpersticker?
Here's why I think this is going to become even more important than it used to be.
When you go somewhere you and your kin or kind are not much known, you become a representative of your group, like it or not. People in minority groups know this. Natalie Goldberg once wrote of going into a rural, Midwestern classroom and telling the kids she was Jewish; none of them knew anyone Jewish, so she figured that now she represented Jewish people to them--she was eating an apple, therefore all Jews eat apples sort of thing. Christians in America and perhaps especially in the Bible Belt have had the luxury of being in the majority for a long time. Even now something like 89 percent or more Americans self-identify as being at least nominally Christian. But that's going to change and do so sooner and faster than we are going to find comfortable. I'm not referring to immigrants from historically non-Christian parts of the world changing the demographics of our country. Already a lot of citizens who tick Christian subgroup XYZ or ABC on forms that ask religion could be more accurate by checking "other" and writing in "secularist who sometimes uses XYZ facilities for weddings and funerals and may bring out a manger scene tree ornament at Christmas". Throw in a little mild persecution and a great many of those people will fall away. And some of the people who remain will be people committed to redefining Christianity as something historically unrecognizable.
This means that practicing Christians will more and more often run into people who have never met a practicing Christian and have formed their view of the faith based almost wholly on the mockery of contemporary comedians and the vilification of our enemies. What you, as a known practicing Christian, do and say before such a person will either reinforce the negative opinion they've taken from pop culture or will be a witness against the caricature. Given that we're supposed to evangelize, which is better?
My point here is not to point fingers, but to point out the responsibility we take on when we display symbols that identify us as Christians. I've never worn any of those smarmy Christian tee-shirts that some people wear because I don't like them, but if I ever found one I liked, I would be reluctant to wear it in public, because it would make me feel under a greater obligation to mind myself. I do frequently wear a modest-sized Marian medal and I would hate it if I ever spoke nastily to someone or hit my shin and let out a stream of profanity and then had the people who witnessed this notice my medal; their seeing my behavior and thinking I am a jerk is one thing, their seeing my behavior and thinking Christians are jerks is another thing. I know I would hate this scenario because I let something like it happen once. (So if there were a finger pointing, it would have to point at me as well.)
Some years back I noticed myself getting angry while driving more and more often and I didn't like it. So, although I've never liked things dangling from rearview mirrors, when I got a free plastic rosary in the mail, I decided to hang it from my rearview mirror as a reminder to remember Jesus and not get angry and mutter bad things about other drivers. And it worked pretty well for weeks. Then I lost my temper worse than I ever had while driving.
I had to go pick up some medicine or something at Wal-mart and, unfortunately this was on the day before a hurricane might or might not hit us, and it was afternoon. Leaving the store after having suffered through the crowd inside, I ended up in the most godawful snarl of parking lot traffic likely to be seen in a small town. After what seemed like ages of this and escape to a less congested area seemed nigh, I witnessed a bit of what I took to be insane driving and someone nearly hit me, and I flipped out and did something I'd never before done while driving: angrily thrust two upturned fingers toward my window, while shouting the air blue.
But there's Jesus. Before I had even calmed down, I was overcome with remorse: Suppose they saw the rosary dangling from my mirror and thought all Catholics act like this? I felt horrible about it. Now, maybe it would be a finer thing to say I thought only of the wrongness of the act itself or of how sin hurts Jesus, rather than how I might have created a negative impression of my group of Christians. But if I were pure of heart, I probably wouldn't have snapped like that in the first place, and the results were good: my little bout of road rage ended, I became a much calmer driver for years after, and I found myself glancing over at my little plastic depiction of Jesus quite often.
And that's the good part of displaying symbols of our faith on or about our person: they make us think of God more often. The "bad" part of course is that they require we take on a responsibility to act as representatives of our faith; it's harder to hide when we're wearing a sign. And maybe that's a good part too.
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Smart Kids, Depictions of
I have a near lifelong grievance with television depictions of intellectually gifted children. Leaving aside the frequent assumption that such children are always desperate to be "normal", what really galls me is the lazy, unthinking depiction of such children and teenagers as loving school. No exceptions--they all love it, just LOVE it! I guess that's why these hyper-intelligent TV children all do loads and loads of studying so that they can get their good grades! (Yeah, right; as a bumpersticker I once saw says, "My dog was student of the year at the local government school.")
In real life intellectually gifted children often despise school, because they are bored there. Hideously, hideously bored. A topic is introduced, said child grasps it, and then has to sit through days of having it expounded upon. Child's reading level is twelfth grade, child still has to suffer through the same fourth grade reading materials as everyone else. Child is ready for deeper explanations of causes behind historical events, child gets the same simplistic summing-up and "memorize this date" as the other children. Elementary school vocabulary tests give him words he picked up on his own a year or two before, and high school literature class has him read books he read on his own several years before. Result? Child spends the better part of twelve years bored out of his skull.
But for some reason smart children on TV always love going to school and have to do lots of studying, else how would they get those As.
I always used to think I wanted to see a depiction of just one highly intelligent child who didn't like school--just one. Still hasn't happened as far as television goes (the closest would be Malcolm in the Middle, but I never got the sense the eponymous character hated school, only hated being put into the gifted program--filled, needless to say, with kids who love school, just LOVE it), but last year it finally happened in another category of popular media--comic strips.
The new-to-me strip Frazz (launch date 2001) is named for a janitor-songwriter character who looks suspiciously like a grown-up Calvin (of Calvin & Hobbes) and features a highly intelligent child character who looks suspiciously like an eight year-old, black Calvin. Caulfield is refreshing because, as any thinking person who isn't a sitcom writer would expect of such a child, he is bored in school. He whiles away the time with drawing the Mona Lisa in his standardized test score capsules and pulling stunts on people, such as giving his race as "Callipygian", something I swear I'm going to start doing! Luckily for him, he has Frazz to talk to and play with.
Glad as I was finally to see a character like Caulfield, I find I just don't like the strip much. I put it on my daily read list (morning means news headlines and two to three comic strips) but soon took it off. There's too much about Frazz's exercise hobbies (he's a cyclist, like Calvin's dad) and it sometimes seems as if there's a moral superiority vibe coming off the strip, directed downward to people who don't exercise. I don't think I'm imagining it, but even if I am, in my non-exercising (yet still callipygian!) inferiority, deluded, the fact still remains that I'd rather be reading about Caulfield than Frazz's exercise routine. Still, I give the author, Jeff Mallett, credit for doing something new with his strip.
More later about another new (once again, only new to me) comic strip I like.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Our Days Are Numbered (Arbitrarily)
Numerology claims that days have numbers which give them vibrational energy that can affect things in certain ways. But the numbers that days are assigned are based on our calendar and calendars are (mostly) arbitrary. When you give the day's numerology number any credence, you are privileging our calendar above other calendars--a grossly imperialistic act, to be sure! Moreover, as it's all arbitrary anyway, why not just assign your own personal numbers to the day? Let every day have your lucky number, or assign days particular numbers as you think you need them. To those who would claim that the beliefs of millions who use that calendar give strength to the assigning of date numbers derived from that calendar, I would say that surely your beliefs about the day's number have more effect on your day than the beliefs of anyone else.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ever Notice...?
It is a truth almost universally acknowledged among contemporary people that some groups--teenagers, college students, poor people, Africans--simply can not be expected to have the kind of self-control necessary to refrain from sex. They are simply not capable of it. Everyone knows that. And yet, when we bring our attention down from groups to individuals, suddenly everyone is capable of it, especially if they're individuals with whom we are romantically involved. No woman says of her husband, when she finds out he's had an affair, "Oh, well, I guess it was unrealistic of me to expect him to keep his pants zipped." No young man seeing his girlfriend off on a weekend trip reminds her to take along some condoms in case she meets someone and just can't control herself.
We feel perfectly free to expect self-control from the individuals around us, but we deem it naive to expect self-control from certain groups.
Last time I checked, groups were made up of individuals.
We feel perfectly free to expect self-control from the individuals around us, but we deem it naive to expect self-control from certain groups.
Last time I checked, groups were made up of individuals.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
I'm a Fellagirly
| You Are 40% Feminine, 60% Masculine |
 You are not overly sensitive and not easily moved. Occasionally, though, something will get through and touch your heart! |
Are You Masculine or Feminine?
That's probably close enough to accuracy for a pop psych quiz. I've never felt I wholly fit in with other women, and sometimes it seems to go beyond the way I've never fit in in other areas to be about my not fitting in as a woman. I'm just not keen on being in all-female groups. Assuming they're men who can carry on a conversation and that I have some point of commonality with, I much prefer the company of men to that of all-female groups. I am really uncomfortable in social situations where all the men start going off in one group and the women in another. I have been known to complain that "most women never want to talk about anything but diets, makeup, and hairstyles!" Of course, that is unfair, and not just because you'd have to add recipes and desserts to the list; it's not true either, but I think there is a certain amount of truth hidden in its incompleteness. What really bugs me about all female groups is the compulsion to agree: everyone is supposed to agree about everything, otherwise you're not being nice, and scholars of male-female speech differences will tell you this is because women like to build community when they talk, blah blah blah, but I just find it damned annoying. Goodness knows there are some men who can't argue without getting angry and a lot of men who can't argue well, but in general men are better about sometimes disagreeing chat and for this and possibly other reasons are more fun to talk with.
I also think women try to get too involved emotionally and personally with me; I am reserved and do not rush to share personal matters with people I hardly know. Women are more apt to be nosy than men and to invade my space. I also don't like the way most women tend to say "I feel" instead of "I think". Or the way they're so big on Hallmark-invented holidays and...okay, I'm getting a little negative here.
I was happy enough with being a girl in the eww, boys are yucky phase and before, but I found the onset of puberty upsetting. It's probable most people do to some extent, but I don't know if some quirk of personality made it more upsetting than average to me or not; I do know it coincided with my growing awareness of a gulf between me and my classmates--or a growing gulf--due to differing intelligence levels, and that may have exacerbated things. Unlike the girls around me, I saw no point in taking any interest in boys until I got to the point where I was experiencing sexual desire regularly, at age fifteen. (Even then my interest had to remain largely theoretical for a while!) In early adulthood, I was told on several occasions that my sexual attitudes and responses were male. In separate instances I also took some criticism for a particular sexual attitude that is more associated with men. I've also been given to understand that I'm cold and unfeeling, which is apparently a more male sort of thing;
On the other hand, I'm married; my sexual desires have always been for men; I have a number of pasttimes that are considered traditionally feminine in our society; I love, love, love puppies; I understand the appeal of small things (like baby clothes); I sometimes inexplicably want to mother the vulnerable, especially the small and vulnerable (like injured or frightened puppies, shy children, Ralph Wiggum); and I go soft and syrupy inside when I see babies--only in my innards, I try to keep my outards dignified--and I have many times felt that irrational or perhaps extra-rational yearning for a baby that women sometimes get. I'm also feminine enough that my marriage has sometimes had a little of that friction that is supposedly caused by male-female differences. I call my husband to deal with the mice and lizards that occasionally slip into our house and I would call him to deal with snakes; this is utterly unreasonable, but I do it shamelessly. It does not bother me to cry in front of him. He has sometimes indicated he finds me overly emotional and irrational. And, although he's several times yelled out "You're a MAN, baby", he once said--in the tone of a man who knows he's going to regret saying it!--that I was "acting like, I hate to say it, a woman".
Sooo...what does all this mean? Damned if I know. Humans are complicated.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Some Things You're Allowed to Say and Something You're Not
In the contemporary US, there are things you're (still) allowed to say and things you're not allowed to say.
You're allowed to say that, if you have fair skin and a disinclination to get skin cancer, you ought not sunbathe. It's okay to say that if you have trouble stopping at one or two drinks, you ought not drink at all. It's okay to say that, if you have a family history of diabetes and heart disease, you ought not eat lots of sweets and other junk foods. And, while there's no shortage of people who want to sell the notion "you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, and still lose weight" and no shortage of people wanting to buy that notion, it is still okay to say that people who do not want to become fat should avoid the couch potato lifestyle in favor of a more physically active one.
But it is not okay to say that, if you are in such a situation in your life that a pregnancy (yours or your girlfriend's) would ruin your life--i.e. cause all sorts of problems for you and wreck your plans--then maybe you should not engage in the activity that creates pregnancy until your life is in a more stable state. You're not allowed to say that.
You're allowed to say that, if you have fair skin and a disinclination to get skin cancer, you ought not sunbathe. It's okay to say that if you have trouble stopping at one or two drinks, you ought not drink at all. It's okay to say that, if you have a family history of diabetes and heart disease, you ought not eat lots of sweets and other junk foods. And, while there's no shortage of people who want to sell the notion "you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want, and still lose weight" and no shortage of people wanting to buy that notion, it is still okay to say that people who do not want to become fat should avoid the couch potato lifestyle in favor of a more physically active one.
But it is not okay to say that, if you are in such a situation in your life that a pregnancy (yours or your girlfriend's) would ruin your life--i.e. cause all sorts of problems for you and wreck your plans--then maybe you should not engage in the activity that creates pregnancy until your life is in a more stable state. You're not allowed to say that.
Friday, July 04, 2008
A Lesser Kind of Independence Day
This past Christmas we were doing the drive-to-relatives-we'd-just-as-soon-not-visit thing and, as it was Christmas (I usually prefer silence for better conversation), I popped in my Aaron Neville Christmas CD. Uncle Pookie remarked that he didn't really like Aaron Neville's music, that he felt as if he ought to but he didn't.
Most of us have things like that, things we think we ought to like or ought to dislike. Uncle Pookie is less prone to such notions than anyone I've ever know, but there he was saying he thought he ought to like something. Weird.
I've never been much prone to feeling I had to conform to other people's expectations for my preferences--and that used to drive my mother wild, I can tell you: "But all the girls your age like this/wear this/ think that!"--yet I have some of these "I oughta"s. Several I can think of right off the top of my head.
Like Inspector Morse. Apparently I'm supposed to like Inspector Morse. The TV shows were very popular on both sides of the pond, the books were successful, and apparently loads of people like the character. I like lots of British shows, I like mystery series, I'm not necessarily opposed to "elitist" or snobbish characters, so I ought to like Morse. Well, I don't. Morse is a jerk. I feel sorry for his sergeant, just for his having to work with him. Morse also seems a bit of a sexist, albeit in a mild, forgiveable way. Morse doesn't even seem that great of a detective to me; and if you're going to have a prickly detective, he really ought to amaze you with his detecting or intuiting skills, and Morse doesn't. I've watched some of the shows, I've listened to an audiobook and a couple of radio platlys, and I'll concede they have decent writing. But I still don't like Morse; I found him less annoying on the radio, but I didn't like him even then.
I have a stronger feeling I ought to like Lord Peter Wimsey. And I did like him pretty well in that Gaudy Night television show. But the fact remains that, while I'm convinced I ought to have more respect for Sayers' ability, the only of those novels I like much at all are the three with Harriet Vane before she and Peter married. I don't dislike Peter, but I just don't like him the way other people like him and;, despite there being some good bits, I am quite content with missing the rest of his books and stories.
I have a pretty healthy understanding that this kind of "I ought to like--"" thinking is bunk and do not give it much attention. Doing so would be like splitting my mental tastebuds into Elaine Benes parts and surrounding people who keep telling Elaine she ought to like The English Patient parts. Why, that would just be silly.
I'm ready to declare my (further) independence from my own and other people's notions of what I ought to like. Not to mention from what I ought not like. And I'd like other people to join me. Maybe you think you ought to like modern jazz, but you just can't make yourself. Maybe you think you ought to like praying the the Divine Mercy chaplet, when really you'd rather practice just about any other kind of devotion. Maybe you think you ought to prefer gourmet coffee, when secretly you don't think it's any better than the economy-size store brand you've used for years. Maybe you do like shopping at Wal-mart, even though you think you shouldn't. Maybe you think you ought to like Tolstoy, when you'd much rather read Dickens. Maybe you think you ought to like Dickens, when you'd really rather read romance novels. Why not just accept it?
Paying too much attention to these kind of implanted notions about preferences is ridiculous. If something does not violate decency, who cares? We can and should expect ourselves to live up to our moral codes and to perform our personal and societal duties to a reasonable level. It is reasonable, for example, to expect that we and others obey the traffic laws that allow people to travel from one place to another safely or to expect young people to get married before they start having babies. But expecting yourself--or worse, others--to adopt the tastes you think you (or they) ought to have is just ridiculous. If you've given something people think you should like, like Inspector Morse, a fair chance and you still don't like it, just accept it, admit it, and move on.
Yeah, maybe this is a pointless complaining and borderline whinging sort of post on a tiny, unimportant subject and I know it's badly worded, but it's been on my mind lately.
Most of us have things like that, things we think we ought to like or ought to dislike. Uncle Pookie is less prone to such notions than anyone I've ever know, but there he was saying he thought he ought to like something. Weird.
I've never been much prone to feeling I had to conform to other people's expectations for my preferences--and that used to drive my mother wild, I can tell you: "But all the girls your age like this/wear this/ think that!"--yet I have some of these "I oughta"s. Several I can think of right off the top of my head.
Like Inspector Morse. Apparently I'm supposed to like Inspector Morse. The TV shows were very popular on both sides of the pond, the books were successful, and apparently loads of people like the character. I like lots of British shows, I like mystery series, I'm not necessarily opposed to "elitist" or snobbish characters, so I ought to like Morse. Well, I don't. Morse is a jerk. I feel sorry for his sergeant, just for his having to work with him. Morse also seems a bit of a sexist, albeit in a mild, forgiveable way. Morse doesn't even seem that great of a detective to me; and if you're going to have a prickly detective, he really ought to amaze you with his detecting or intuiting skills, and Morse doesn't. I've watched some of the shows, I've listened to an audiobook and a couple of radio platlys, and I'll concede they have decent writing. But I still don't like Morse; I found him less annoying on the radio, but I didn't like him even then.
I have a stronger feeling I ought to like Lord Peter Wimsey. And I did like him pretty well in that Gaudy Night television show. But the fact remains that, while I'm convinced I ought to have more respect for Sayers' ability, the only of those novels I like much at all are the three with Harriet Vane before she and Peter married. I don't dislike Peter, but I just don't like him the way other people like him and;, despite there being some good bits, I am quite content with missing the rest of his books and stories.
I have a pretty healthy understanding that this kind of "I ought to like--"" thinking is bunk and do not give it much attention. Doing so would be like splitting my mental tastebuds into Elaine Benes parts and surrounding people who keep telling Elaine she ought to like The English Patient parts. Why, that would just be silly.
I'm ready to declare my (further) independence from my own and other people's notions of what I ought to like. Not to mention from what I ought not like. And I'd like other people to join me. Maybe you think you ought to like modern jazz, but you just can't make yourself. Maybe you think you ought to like praying the the Divine Mercy chaplet, when really you'd rather practice just about any other kind of devotion. Maybe you think you ought to prefer gourmet coffee, when secretly you don't think it's any better than the economy-size store brand you've used for years. Maybe you do like shopping at Wal-mart, even though you think you shouldn't. Maybe you think you ought to like Tolstoy, when you'd much rather read Dickens. Maybe you think you ought to like Dickens, when you'd really rather read romance novels. Why not just accept it?
Paying too much attention to these kind of implanted notions about preferences is ridiculous. If something does not violate decency, who cares? We can and should expect ourselves to live up to our moral codes and to perform our personal and societal duties to a reasonable level. It is reasonable, for example, to expect that we and others obey the traffic laws that allow people to travel from one place to another safely or to expect young people to get married before they start having babies. But expecting yourself--or worse, others--to adopt the tastes you think you (or they) ought to have is just ridiculous. If you've given something people think you should like, like Inspector Morse, a fair chance and you still don't like it, just accept it, admit it, and move on.
Yeah, maybe this is a pointless complaining and borderline whinging sort of post on a tiny, unimportant subject and I know it's badly worded, but it's been on my mind lately.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
May Day
Hooray, Hooray, for the first of May,
outdoor ____ing* starts today!
*Ask your parents, kiddies.
Today is May Day. First day of summer, if you require a calendar date to determine summer, rather than relying on what's going on in nature where you live. Don't give me any of that nonsense about the summer solstice marking the beginning of summer; even in England, which is far cooler on May Day than where I live, the summer solstice was always called Midsummer, not Summer's Beginning.
Anyway, just a brief check-in. Monday, when I found that message asking about Hogwarts scarves I just googled for a site that would have pictures of the process in question. The first site that came up was Deep Fried Kudzu. I liked the name well enough--really, isn't that one of the best blog names you've ever heard?--that I later went back to browse it a bit. I can not claim to have explored it thoroughly, but I want to recommend it anyway. It looks like a pretty darn good blog. There's a list of restaurants the author has enjoyed, recipes, pretty photos of home-y (home to me, anyway) places, and I saw links to several interesting things. Including this article about a North Alabama woman called Aunt Jenny.
...Aunt Jenny walked outside, pointed at her husband's killers and said to them that she knew every one of their faces and they would get what was coming to them. She then called her surviving sons to her side and made them place their hands on the lifeless bodies of their father and brother. She made them swear eternal vengeance for their deaths. Legend has it that all the men responsible for the death of Willis and John were sent to their graves by a Brooks boy. Some legends state that Aunt Jenny herself even killed a few of the men.
I enjoyed reading that passage more than a Christian woman probably ought to. It is rather fine drama, and I think you can make an argument that the behavior described is pragmatic, in that the best way to avoid being messed with in the future is to make people very, very sorry for having messed with you in the past; frankly, I would prefer for my country's leaders to adopt the tactic of making people very, very afraid to attack us.
As a hater of impertinent questions, I also liked the anecdote about Aunt Jenny on another site (sorry, I didn't save that link and I'm not looking for it now) that has her, upon being asked how she came by a roll of money she was carrying, saying she paid herself twenty dollars a week just to mind her own business.
Florence King said that there's nothing wrong with Women's Studies that studying the right women won't set right. Aunt Jenny sounds like one of those women.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
This Could Be Inspirational
...if I let it.
Thursday I saw a name on NRO that surprised me a good deal: Ursula K. LeGuin. I stopped reading her work back in the mid-'90s, because the increasing PC-ish content got on my nerves--and I was still a self-proclaimed liberal at the time, who would have agreed with much of it! Mrs. LeGuin's name was there because she was being interviewed about her new novel, Lavinia. In it she said that, not having touched Latin since she studied it in high school, she decided, in her seventies, to take it up again. And she did and she was able, "with difficulty", to read the Aeneid in the original.
Now that is awesome. And I mean that in the older sense of inspiring awe, not in some early mid-'80s slang way. Mrs. LeGuin impressed the heck out of me when she said that. The ability to learn second languages--something any child who isn't actually in the sub-basement of human intelligence levels can do without apparent effort--famously gets harder as we get older. And our memory gets less retentive in middle age, so that we have to work much harder to hold onto something new than we did in our youth. Not many people take up language study after they get old. Especially not a "dead" language with a reputation of being rather difficult.
Lately I've been focusing much too much on things I supposedly can't do or that are getting more difficult to do because I am old. At thirty-eight. Mrs. LeGuin makes me feel like a bit of a whinger (mental variety only; I have at least avoided annoying others with it.)
You'd think I would have learned my lesson from something that happened a few years ago: I came across something I'd written when I was twenty-nine, explaining that I could not start something that late in life because I would be at least thirty-two by the time I finished. Oh, the horror! I was thirty-four or thirty-five when I came across that and, guess what, I'd reached (and passed) the advanced old age of thirty-two even without doing that thing. The only choice had been between becoming a thirty-two year-old who had done that thing and becoming a thirty-two year old who had not done that thing.
Something to think about as I grow closer to what I think of as Shirley Valentine age (forty-two).
Thursday I saw a name on NRO that surprised me a good deal: Ursula K. LeGuin. I stopped reading her work back in the mid-'90s, because the increasing PC-ish content got on my nerves--and I was still a self-proclaimed liberal at the time, who would have agreed with much of it! Mrs. LeGuin's name was there because she was being interviewed about her new novel, Lavinia. In it she said that, not having touched Latin since she studied it in high school, she decided, in her seventies, to take it up again. And she did and she was able, "with difficulty", to read the Aeneid in the original.
Now that is awesome. And I mean that in the older sense of inspiring awe, not in some early mid-'80s slang way. Mrs. LeGuin impressed the heck out of me when she said that. The ability to learn second languages--something any child who isn't actually in the sub-basement of human intelligence levels can do without apparent effort--famously gets harder as we get older. And our memory gets less retentive in middle age, so that we have to work much harder to hold onto something new than we did in our youth. Not many people take up language study after they get old. Especially not a "dead" language with a reputation of being rather difficult.
Lately I've been focusing much too much on things I supposedly can't do or that are getting more difficult to do because I am old. At thirty-eight. Mrs. LeGuin makes me feel like a bit of a whinger (mental variety only; I have at least avoided annoying others with it.)
You'd think I would have learned my lesson from something that happened a few years ago: I came across something I'd written when I was twenty-nine, explaining that I could not start something that late in life because I would be at least thirty-two by the time I finished. Oh, the horror! I was thirty-four or thirty-five when I came across that and, guess what, I'd reached (and passed) the advanced old age of thirty-two even without doing that thing. The only choice had been between becoming a thirty-two year-old who had done that thing and becoming a thirty-two year old who had not done that thing.
Something to think about as I grow closer to what I think of as Shirley Valentine age (forty-two).
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Non-Diva
I saw this post on "hip-hop syndrome" last week, and I wanted to mention it for somewhat tangential reasons. It quotes a City Journal article by Myron Magnet that references Wynton Marsalis.
I am not well able to comment on the musical opinion Marsalis is quoted on (although I find the idea intriguing), and I refer people to the City Journal article for a discussion of hip-hop syndrome. What I wanted to share was something about Wynton Marsalis, the man.
Eighteen or so years ago, I had the good fortune to hear Mr. Marsalis play. I enjoyed the experience, although I was well aware that my place would have been better filled by a more musical person who could more fully appreciate the obvious artistry. What I best remember is a non-musical thing. I was seated near the stage and could see everything. Mr. Marsalis' piano player was blind and before the performance began, Marsalis led the piano player to his seat himself. And after the performance, Marsalis, the man we were all there to see, gave the piano player his arm once again and led him off the stage. Now, that might seem just common courtesy, but there were other band members, less famous, who could presumably have been made to do it. And there was something thoroughly humble about the manner in which this action was carried out. Mr. Marsalis' name and his face was the one on the tickets and the posters, but he clearly did not consider himself above the un-glamorous task of helping a colleague to his seat. Moreover, it seemed to me by the way he introduced his fellow musicians that he respected them; he really seemed to be more interested in the music than his own ego.
This may seem like a very small thing to relate, but it impressed me at the time. And really, can anyone imagine Barbara Streisand helping her underling to his seat with her very own hands? Or any of quite a lot of other famous people putting aside their own applause for a moment so they can look to someone else?
I may not know much about music, but I do know that I have a lot more respect for any man (or woman) who is more interested in practicing his craft and in being a decent person than in behaving like a prima donna. No one will ever write "Decent Guy" out in sequins and sparkly paint on a tee-shirt, the way they do with "Diva", but we'd all do a lot better to aspire to decency and humbleness than to diva-hood. Or to hip-hop values.
Wynton Marsalis’s scathing critique of rap understands how hip-hop relates to the larger problem. Leaving aside the lyrics, rap is musically “ignorant,” Marsalis says. “Rhythms have to have a meaning. If the rhythm is corrupt, the music is corrupt and the people become corrupt.” (And, one might add, rap also subverts music’s aim of creating a realm of harmony and beauty.) As for the lyrics, Marsalis says, “I call it ‘ghetto minstrelsy.’..."
I am not well able to comment on the musical opinion Marsalis is quoted on (although I find the idea intriguing), and I refer people to the City Journal article for a discussion of hip-hop syndrome. What I wanted to share was something about Wynton Marsalis, the man.
Eighteen or so years ago, I had the good fortune to hear Mr. Marsalis play. I enjoyed the experience, although I was well aware that my place would have been better filled by a more musical person who could more fully appreciate the obvious artistry. What I best remember is a non-musical thing. I was seated near the stage and could see everything. Mr. Marsalis' piano player was blind and before the performance began, Marsalis led the piano player to his seat himself. And after the performance, Marsalis, the man we were all there to see, gave the piano player his arm once again and led him off the stage. Now, that might seem just common courtesy, but there were other band members, less famous, who could presumably have been made to do it. And there was something thoroughly humble about the manner in which this action was carried out. Mr. Marsalis' name and his face was the one on the tickets and the posters, but he clearly did not consider himself above the un-glamorous task of helping a colleague to his seat. Moreover, it seemed to me by the way he introduced his fellow musicians that he respected them; he really seemed to be more interested in the music than his own ego.
This may seem like a very small thing to relate, but it impressed me at the time. And really, can anyone imagine Barbara Streisand helping her underling to his seat with her very own hands? Or any of quite a lot of other famous people putting aside their own applause for a moment so they can look to someone else?
I may not know much about music, but I do know that I have a lot more respect for any man (or woman) who is more interested in practicing his craft and in being a decent person than in behaving like a prima donna. No one will ever write "Decent Guy" out in sequins and sparkly paint on a tee-shirt, the way they do with "Diva", but we'd all do a lot better to aspire to decency and humbleness than to diva-hood. Or to hip-hop values.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Small HP-related Update
I spent Saturday doing what a great many other people worldwide did, reading Deathly Hallows. I was a satisfied reader; Uncle Pookie seemed a little bit less satisfied than I, but part of that is his ongoing frustration with the Ministry of Magic's failure to come up with better preventive measures--e.g., spells or devices for detecting Imperiused employees. Anyway, I don't want to give any spoilers away for those who haven't yet read it, so I'll just say I liked it and that I was mostly right in the things I guessed would happen. One important thing, on which I'd disagreed with UP, I was wrong about, but to be totally fair I had said that if that thing had happened, it was surely an accident, not deliberate, because doing it deliberately would have been a really bad idea. And I was right about that part of it. (Cryptic enough?)
But I did want to point people to Thomas Hibbs' review, "Harry Potter & the Art of Dying Well" on NRO. Hibbs is a good reviewer, and this review is no exception. I also recommend the Alan Jacobs review that Hibbs links to. I'd read it a couple of years ago on the First Things website, but I read it again and, although it was published when there were only three books in the series, it is well worth reading; there is some really interesting stuff about magic and technology that would be interesting even to people who haven't read or who don't like the Harry Potter series.
And speaking of people who don't like HP, I do not recommend the Ron Charles article Hibbs links as an example of "it's for the masses, therefore it must be bad" type of thinking. (Unless of course you need to see such an example, and in that case I guess it is a pretty good example. I'm only linking it myself because the link in Hibbs' article is broken.) I do not say this because Mr. Charles does not like HP. I do not care whether other people like HP or not, except insofar as I might have more chance of a fun conversation about the books with someone who does. Someone once said that, "in literature, as in love, other people's choices astound us"--in other words, tastes vary; I've seen any number of couples whose reason for being together is completely inexplicable to me, and I'm far too old to think that my tastes in books, anymore than my taste in romantic/marital partner, is or ever will be universal. So the dislike doesn't matter.
But a couple of the reasons for the dislike do. I do not care for the "for the masses=bad" notion, popular though it is among some. I myself often fell prey to that type of pointless sneering when I was young, but I have recognized it as groundless elitism, resting on, insofar as it rests on anything, the faulty idea that something popular can't be good and worthwhile. Of course popular things can be bad, but it is going a long way from that fairly obvious truth to say they're popular because they are bad or that if Billy Bob and Sally Mae like it, it must be crap. And I don't care whether we're talking books, movies, Wal-mart, crafts, or what have you, I do not care for this attitude.
Far more important is one of the other reasons Mr. Charles dislikes HP and it is the reason I bothered to say I do not recommend the piece: Charles refers to "Rowling's little world of good vs. evil". That's a telling phrase if I ever heard one. Hear the contempt? The dismissiveness? People who believe in good and evil, even just to the point of being willing to entertain the idea of a fantasy world in which such things exist, are so-o-o-o medieval! Who knows what sort of backward, incorrect thinking such might get up to? I do believe in the existence of good and evil, and I believe that they are in conflict not only in fictional worlds, both well and poorly written, but in this world, within and without ourselves. And I consider the idea that good and evil do not exist to be a pernicious belief which we entertain to our own destruction. I am completely serious here. Act as if good and evil do not exist or as if they are beneath consideration by intelligent, educated people and you will begin to damage your own self and the wider society. The phrase "rot from within" comes to mind. Much better to dislike the HP books because you think they are badly written or juvenile or boring or even for the reason that they're popular, than because they depict good and evil. That is a hopeless, dead-end sort of thinking that affects far more than your opinion on one series of children's books.
Anyway, I recommend as thought-provoking both the Hibbs review and the Jacobs article. Uncle Pookie also found them interesting.
But I did want to point people to Thomas Hibbs' review, "Harry Potter & the Art of Dying Well" on NRO. Hibbs is a good reviewer, and this review is no exception. I also recommend the Alan Jacobs review that Hibbs links to. I'd read it a couple of years ago on the First Things website, but I read it again and, although it was published when there were only three books in the series, it is well worth reading; there is some really interesting stuff about magic and technology that would be interesting even to people who haven't read or who don't like the Harry Potter series.
And speaking of people who don't like HP, I do not recommend the Ron Charles article Hibbs links as an example of "it's for the masses, therefore it must be bad" type of thinking. (Unless of course you need to see such an example, and in that case I guess it is a pretty good example. I'm only linking it myself because the link in Hibbs' article is broken.) I do not say this because Mr. Charles does not like HP. I do not care whether other people like HP or not, except insofar as I might have more chance of a fun conversation about the books with someone who does. Someone once said that, "in literature, as in love, other people's choices astound us"--in other words, tastes vary; I've seen any number of couples whose reason for being together is completely inexplicable to me, and I'm far too old to think that my tastes in books, anymore than my taste in romantic/marital partner, is or ever will be universal. So the dislike doesn't matter.
But a couple of the reasons for the dislike do. I do not care for the "for the masses=bad" notion, popular though it is among some. I myself often fell prey to that type of pointless sneering when I was young, but I have recognized it as groundless elitism, resting on, insofar as it rests on anything, the faulty idea that something popular can't be good and worthwhile. Of course popular things can be bad, but it is going a long way from that fairly obvious truth to say they're popular because they are bad or that if Billy Bob and Sally Mae like it, it must be crap. And I don't care whether we're talking books, movies, Wal-mart, crafts, or what have you, I do not care for this attitude.
Far more important is one of the other reasons Mr. Charles dislikes HP and it is the reason I bothered to say I do not recommend the piece: Charles refers to "Rowling's little world of good vs. evil". That's a telling phrase if I ever heard one. Hear the contempt? The dismissiveness? People who believe in good and evil, even just to the point of being willing to entertain the idea of a fantasy world in which such things exist, are so-o-o-o medieval! Who knows what sort of backward, incorrect thinking such might get up to? I do believe in the existence of good and evil, and I believe that they are in conflict not only in fictional worlds, both well and poorly written, but in this world, within and without ourselves. And I consider the idea that good and evil do not exist to be a pernicious belief which we entertain to our own destruction. I am completely serious here. Act as if good and evil do not exist or as if they are beneath consideration by intelligent, educated people and you will begin to damage your own self and the wider society. The phrase "rot from within" comes to mind. Much better to dislike the HP books because you think they are badly written or juvenile or boring or even for the reason that they're popular, than because they depict good and evil. That is a hopeless, dead-end sort of thinking that affects far more than your opinion on one series of children's books.
Anyway, I recommend as thought-provoking both the Hibbs review and the Jacobs article. Uncle Pookie also found them interesting.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I think I've discovered a universal law...
I am, for some reason, really amused by the Helsinki Complaints Choir, in which the complaints of Helsinki residents are set to choral music. There is also a knock-off of the idea done by singers in Birmingham, England. The universal law I think I've found is this: Complaining sounds a lot better when you don't understand the language.
Here's links to a few other interesting things I've read online recently:
"Let's Stop Stereotyping Evangelicals" -- A short article urging exactly what the title says. The money quote:
"Even the Moral Majority in its most belligerent form amounted to nothing more terrifying than churchgoers flocking peacefully to the polls on Election Day."
"How to Cheat at Art" -- The text of an illustrated speech on art "cheats" such as the camera obscura; it even talks about some contemporary artists thinking that not leaving in preliminary, "feeling your way" lines is a cheat. We can't see the slides that would have accompanied this speech and the speech hasn't been copy-edited quite so well as it might have been, but it has some interesting tidbits.
"Scientists claim computer has solved mystery of Shakespeare's 'missing play'" -- Newspaper article I read a month ago that I still had in my temporary folder. Two professors claim their computer analysis shows conclusively that Arden of Faversham was written by Shakespeare. I have to confess I had never heard of this play, but its Wikipedia entry sounds interesting enough I might check it out someday.
Something About Underwear in an Article About Something Else --Here's the quote:
"Mine is only the second generation of males in my family to wear underpants. I wear them, and my Dad wore them. Neither of my grandfathers did, though. They wore shirts with long tails. Before putting on their pants, they tucked the shirt tails round underneath to establish the desideratum — apparently universal in pants-wearing cultures — of having something between pants and fundament."
I'd just been thinking about something along those lines when I read this. I think I'm the third generation of women in my family to wear both underpants and bra. According to my mother, when she was a small child (she was born during WWII) country women commonly did not wear bras and some of the very old women did not wear underpants. On the underpants question, bear in mind this was not just a poor part of the country, but a very humid climate; not having an additional layer underneath your dress and slip--or even just under a dress and apron--had some advantages, even if it wasn't the fashion to go without in other parts of the country.
As for bras, though, it's amazing to think how recent the modern bra is in human history. Stays may have provided some support in some eras, but Guinevere, Isolde, and Eleanor of Aquitaine never had any "cross your heart", "lift and separate" type support, and whatever Anne Boleyn may have done as a maid, she didn't "do it in her Maidenform bra". History is full of, if you'll pardon the expression, bouncing boobies--not that any of us ever think about that when reading Jane Austen.
And all of this means--I don't know really. I just found it interesting to think how recently my family, among other families, have taken to underwear. Something most of us regard as a necessity can be a relatively recent addition to people's lives. I was surprised the first time I saw a medieval illustration of people warming themselves near a fire, tunics hitched up and genitals showing, but it was apparently a not uncommon sight then, just as women nursing babies was a common sight before we decided that bottlefeeding was more "scientific" and hygienic than breastfeeding. Anyway, like I said, I'm not going anywhere with this, I'm just musing out loud. Also, I thought that shirt-wrapping thing was kind of cool, although it sounds rather awkward.
Here's links to a few other interesting things I've read online recently:
"Let's Stop Stereotyping Evangelicals" -- A short article urging exactly what the title says. The money quote:
"Even the Moral Majority in its most belligerent form amounted to nothing more terrifying than churchgoers flocking peacefully to the polls on Election Day."
"How to Cheat at Art" -- The text of an illustrated speech on art "cheats" such as the camera obscura; it even talks about some contemporary artists thinking that not leaving in preliminary, "feeling your way" lines is a cheat. We can't see the slides that would have accompanied this speech and the speech hasn't been copy-edited quite so well as it might have been, but it has some interesting tidbits.
"Scientists claim computer has solved mystery of Shakespeare's 'missing play'" -- Newspaper article I read a month ago that I still had in my temporary folder. Two professors claim their computer analysis shows conclusively that Arden of Faversham was written by Shakespeare. I have to confess I had never heard of this play, but its Wikipedia entry sounds interesting enough I might check it out someday.
Something About Underwear in an Article About Something Else --Here's the quote:
"Mine is only the second generation of males in my family to wear underpants. I wear them, and my Dad wore them. Neither of my grandfathers did, though. They wore shirts with long tails. Before putting on their pants, they tucked the shirt tails round underneath to establish the desideratum — apparently universal in pants-wearing cultures — of having something between pants and fundament."
I'd just been thinking about something along those lines when I read this. I think I'm the third generation of women in my family to wear both underpants and bra. According to my mother, when she was a small child (she was born during WWII) country women commonly did not wear bras and some of the very old women did not wear underpants. On the underpants question, bear in mind this was not just a poor part of the country, but a very humid climate; not having an additional layer underneath your dress and slip--or even just under a dress and apron--had some advantages, even if it wasn't the fashion to go without in other parts of the country.
As for bras, though, it's amazing to think how recent the modern bra is in human history. Stays may have provided some support in some eras, but Guinevere, Isolde, and Eleanor of Aquitaine never had any "cross your heart", "lift and separate" type support, and whatever Anne Boleyn may have done as a maid, she didn't "do it in her Maidenform bra". History is full of, if you'll pardon the expression, bouncing boobies--not that any of us ever think about that when reading Jane Austen.
And all of this means--I don't know really. I just found it interesting to think how recently my family, among other families, have taken to underwear. Something most of us regard as a necessity can be a relatively recent addition to people's lives. I was surprised the first time I saw a medieval illustration of people warming themselves near a fire, tunics hitched up and genitals showing, but it was apparently a not uncommon sight then, just as women nursing babies was a common sight before we decided that bottlefeeding was more "scientific" and hygienic than breastfeeding. Anyway, like I said, I'm not going anywhere with this, I'm just musing out loud. Also, I thought that shirt-wrapping thing was kind of cool, although it sounds rather awkward.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Something to Amuse the Over Thirty-five Crowd
Recently a young co-worker of Uncle Pookie's, who's not long out of school, confidently told UP that he would still think about things the same way and have the same opinions the rest of his life. This amused UP enough to share with me, and I out and out laughed. (If you're under twenty-two or so and don't understand why this is funny, wait ten or fifteen years.) It may sound mean to laugh at youth's naivete, but I like to think of it as one of the consolation prizes we get in return for all of the things middle age takes away from us--things such as good eyesight, the ability to remember what we were just talking about, and the ability to go to work or school fresh as a daisy on under three hours of sleep.
For the record, when I was this fellow's age, I was an Utne reading, pro-choice, NOW-supporting, straight-ticket Democrat voter, who "knew" that all Republicans were racists; that all Christians were ignorant, gullible, and frightened of the big, wonderful universe we live in; that social conservatives were either tyrannical, sexist, reactionary men or their female dupes; that men just want to oppress women and women are somehow nobler than men; that anyone who didn't share my sexual mores was obviously repressed and joyless; and so forth. I don't think I was ever silly enough to say I would always hold the same opinions, but I wouldn't bet money I didn't think it--after all, why would I ever want to change, when my vast intelligence and two decades of experience had made me so obviously right about everything?
For the record, when I was this fellow's age, I was an Utne reading, pro-choice, NOW-supporting, straight-ticket Democrat voter, who "knew" that all Republicans were racists; that all Christians were ignorant, gullible, and frightened of the big, wonderful universe we live in; that social conservatives were either tyrannical, sexist, reactionary men or their female dupes; that men just want to oppress women and women are somehow nobler than men; that anyone who didn't share my sexual mores was obviously repressed and joyless; and so forth. I don't think I was ever silly enough to say I would always hold the same opinions, but I wouldn't bet money I didn't think it--after all, why would I ever want to change, when my vast intelligence and two decades of experience had made me so obviously right about everything?
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Maybe "Get Over Yourself" Can Be a Koan?
If I never hear another pretentious American talking about "the Zen of this" or "the Zen of that", I will have had my fill. "The Zen of X" always comes down to something like, "I've found that such and such activity is relaxing" or "I do this seemingly simple thing, but I pay attention when I do it, so I'm more spiritual than you non-attention-payers". Yes, yes, repetitive physical activity is relaxing and allows the mind to quieten down and come up with creative ideas; you, I, and our elderly Aunt Edna all know that, but Aunt Edna never applauded herself for it or attribute its effect to a religious/philosophical system she didn't practice. And paying attention to clipping your toenails may give you a greater quality of experience, but in the end, you're still just clipping your nails. And, if I may go so far as to contradict any number of women's magazines, clearing the clutter out of your living room doesn't make you or your living room Zen--the room looks better and it may be easier to be in it, but odds are that while you sit looking at your empty table, enlightenment will remain as elusive as ever.
If I were Buddhist , whether Zen or not, I think I would find it a bit offensive that non-Buddhists think they can become Zen masters just by deciding whatever they're doing anyway is Zen--and coincidentally they can sell books about it to others who want to think their pleasant hobby is deeper for them than for other of its practitioners who haven't bought the book. I think if I were from a Buddhist-heavy country, I think I'd petition the UN or something to stop this. But maybe they're all being philosophical about it--i.e., rolling their eyes and getting on with their lives, like sensible people. They can probably find some inspiration for that by studying American Indians, who've long had to endure Americans of European heritage enthusing about how they're "genuine Native American shamans" because they once attended a weekend seminar on it and got a certificate; selling "authentic" plastic dreamcatchers; lecturing Indians of Tribe X on how to build an X sweatlodge; channeling Indian spirit guides, etc.
Me, I'm not so sensible. I think I may start involuntarily channeling Lewis Black when I hear "the Zen of showering/embroidering/soldering/licking popsicles/whatever". And that can't be good for my blood pressure.
If only I could meet some of these people, I could sneak up behind them while they're doing their Zen thing and whap 'em upside the head. It would make me feel better, and I'm sure, being Zen, they'd appreciate my efforts on behalf of their enlightenment.
If I were Buddhist , whether Zen or not, I think I would find it a bit offensive that non-Buddhists think they can become Zen masters just by deciding whatever they're doing anyway is Zen--and coincidentally they can sell books about it to others who want to think their pleasant hobby is deeper for them than for other of its practitioners who haven't bought the book. I think if I were from a Buddhist-heavy country, I think I'd petition the UN or something to stop this. But maybe they're all being philosophical about it--i.e., rolling their eyes and getting on with their lives, like sensible people. They can probably find some inspiration for that by studying American Indians, who've long had to endure Americans of European heritage enthusing about how they're "genuine Native American shamans" because they once attended a weekend seminar on it and got a certificate; selling "authentic" plastic dreamcatchers; lecturing Indians of Tribe X on how to build an X sweatlodge; channeling Indian spirit guides, etc.
Me, I'm not so sensible. I think I may start involuntarily channeling Lewis Black when I hear "the Zen of showering/embroidering/soldering/licking popsicles/whatever". And that can't be good for my blood pressure.
If only I could meet some of these people, I could sneak up behind them while they're doing their Zen thing and whap 'em upside the head. It would make me feel better, and I'm sure, being Zen, they'd appreciate my efforts on behalf of their enlightenment.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Some Thoughts Around the Amish Mass Murder Last Week
Murder is murder but somehow it seems even more despicable to target people who may be more vulnerable because of their relative isolation and lack of ready cell phones.
***
Maybe they would have been less vulnerable had anyone in that schoolhouse had effective weapons.
***
Although as a Catholic I can not condone or promote suicide, it is hard not to agree with Dennis Miller that, if you get so twisted up that you fear you can no longer stop yourself from hurting children in that way, that it might be time for you to stick your chin out and "take one for the team". You just need to do it before you go into the schoolroom with the K-Y jelly and the ropes, not wait until you think you're going to be caught.
***
Right or wrong, the people I pity most in all of this are not the family of the girls who were murdered, but the children of the murderer. Even if their mother moves them away from this small area, so that they can be relatively anonymous, I can not imagine how horrible this knowledge will be for them to live with.
***
I don't know the details, but I was heartened to hear in Rod Dreher's good opinion piece that the Amish were collecting money to help the widow and children of the murderer.
***
NRO's John Podhoretz, mentioning Rod Dreher's saying elsewhere he wished to become the sort of person who could stand over a murdered girl and say not to hate the murderer, said that some people we should hate. (I hope I'm not oversimplifying what I read days ago.) Yesterday Jeff Jacoby had a column saying "hatred is not always wrong, and forgiveness is not always deserved". I think both men are failing to distinguish between hating an action and hating a person. You can hate very much a despicable action and hate the attitude or philosophy that led to that action, and yet not hate the person who committed it. It is hard to explain why or how this can be so, but it is. A human person is more than one or several despicable actions he has committed; even the most depraved person still has some human dignity and worth left about him, no matter how much he has done to deserve our scorn, simply because he is still human. We punish the despicable action and we try to prevent other such actions, but we don't have to hate the person to do it--although anger is inevitable and hatred is sometimes thoroughly understandable.
Jacoby goes on, "I cannot see how the world is made a better place by assuring someone who would do terrible things to others that he will be readily forgiven afterward, even if he shows no remorse." And, "The murder of the Amish girls was a deeply hateful evil. There is nothing godly about pretending it wasn't." Forgiveness does not mean we will not punish the wrongdoer's anti-social action in a just way. Forgiveness does not mean we will fail to protect our society from other such attacks, both by that perpetrator and others. And forgiveness certainly does not mean we will say what the wrongdoer did was right. It does mean we will let go of our anger and our resentment against that person; we will refuse to let resentment eat away at us, destroying our lives.
I personally have trouble forgiving--I'd much rather sink an ax in the chests of people who've deliberately hurt me or my family, then (in certain special cases) dig up the bastards' graves and dance on their corpses--and I used to argue much the same line Jacoby does with my husband, who is a much better person than I am. My husband used to tell me that forgiveness does more for you than it does for the person you're forgiving. Age and--please God--maturity have brought me around to thinking he's right; holding on to our anger and resentment may or may not hurt the other person, but it definitely does a number on us. I also finally came to realize that forgiving someone was not the same as saying what they'd done didn't matter, that it wasn't wrong. And THEN I became a Christian, with an obligation, not only to forgive, but to pray for my enemies; nobody who's tried that ever said this was an easy religion.
One place I would agree with Jacoby--besides believing that the murders were an evil, godless action--is that forgiveness is not always deserved. But Christians such as the Amish are still called to forgiveness, whether the wrongdoer deserves forgiveness or not. And we're required to pray for those who do evil against us, whether those people deserve our prayers or not--probably especially when they don't deserve them. It's rarely pleasant or easy to do, but it is a requirement. And what is the alternative--a society dominated by vengeance and inhumanity?
***
Maybe they would have been less vulnerable had anyone in that schoolhouse had effective weapons.
***
Although as a Catholic I can not condone or promote suicide, it is hard not to agree with Dennis Miller that, if you get so twisted up that you fear you can no longer stop yourself from hurting children in that way, that it might be time for you to stick your chin out and "take one for the team". You just need to do it before you go into the schoolroom with the K-Y jelly and the ropes, not wait until you think you're going to be caught.
***
Right or wrong, the people I pity most in all of this are not the family of the girls who were murdered, but the children of the murderer. Even if their mother moves them away from this small area, so that they can be relatively anonymous, I can not imagine how horrible this knowledge will be for them to live with.
***
I don't know the details, but I was heartened to hear in Rod Dreher's good opinion piece that the Amish were collecting money to help the widow and children of the murderer.
***
NRO's John Podhoretz, mentioning Rod Dreher's saying elsewhere he wished to become the sort of person who could stand over a murdered girl and say not to hate the murderer, said that some people we should hate. (I hope I'm not oversimplifying what I read days ago.) Yesterday Jeff Jacoby had a column saying "hatred is not always wrong, and forgiveness is not always deserved". I think both men are failing to distinguish between hating an action and hating a person. You can hate very much a despicable action and hate the attitude or philosophy that led to that action, and yet not hate the person who committed it. It is hard to explain why or how this can be so, but it is. A human person is more than one or several despicable actions he has committed; even the most depraved person still has some human dignity and worth left about him, no matter how much he has done to deserve our scorn, simply because he is still human. We punish the despicable action and we try to prevent other such actions, but we don't have to hate the person to do it--although anger is inevitable and hatred is sometimes thoroughly understandable.
Jacoby goes on, "I cannot see how the world is made a better place by assuring someone who would do terrible things to others that he will be readily forgiven afterward, even if he shows no remorse." And, "The murder of the Amish girls was a deeply hateful evil. There is nothing godly about pretending it wasn't." Forgiveness does not mean we will not punish the wrongdoer's anti-social action in a just way. Forgiveness does not mean we will fail to protect our society from other such attacks, both by that perpetrator and others. And forgiveness certainly does not mean we will say what the wrongdoer did was right. It does mean we will let go of our anger and our resentment against that person; we will refuse to let resentment eat away at us, destroying our lives.
I personally have trouble forgiving--I'd much rather sink an ax in the chests of people who've deliberately hurt me or my family, then (in certain special cases) dig up the bastards' graves and dance on their corpses--and I used to argue much the same line Jacoby does with my husband, who is a much better person than I am. My husband used to tell me that forgiveness does more for you than it does for the person you're forgiving. Age and--please God--maturity have brought me around to thinking he's right; holding on to our anger and resentment may or may not hurt the other person, but it definitely does a number on us. I also finally came to realize that forgiving someone was not the same as saying what they'd done didn't matter, that it wasn't wrong. And THEN I became a Christian, with an obligation, not only to forgive, but to pray for my enemies; nobody who's tried that ever said this was an easy religion.
One place I would agree with Jacoby--besides believing that the murders were an evil, godless action--is that forgiveness is not always deserved. But Christians such as the Amish are still called to forgiveness, whether the wrongdoer deserves forgiveness or not. And we're required to pray for those who do evil against us, whether those people deserve our prayers or not--probably especially when they don't deserve them. It's rarely pleasant or easy to do, but it is a requirement. And what is the alternative--a society dominated by vengeance and inhumanity?
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Recommended Reading Containing Deep Thoughts About Art and Craftsmanship
JPII's Letter to Artists
I read Pope John Paul II's Letter to Artists during my conversion and was impressed by its respect for art and artists. Among other things, the Holy Father said that artists have a special vocation and are needed by the Church, he spoke of history and the goodness of God's creation and said that we need beauty; there's no surprises there, but it was something I could not imagine any of the American televangelists writing.
When Pope John Paul II died, some commentators remarked on how, because JPII's body had been encumbered by age and disease for over a decade, we tended to forget he had been a good-looking, athletic man when he first became pope. Some of us may also forget (or never have known) that he was involved in the arts (actor, playwright and poet) before he became a priest. It may be that his personal experiences informed his Letter. But it's not reflective only of his personal views--the Church has a long and great history of supporting art (if that statement surprises you, where did you think all of those magnificent cathedrals, requiem masses, and religious paintings & sculpture came from?); I think this may be because of the incarnational way Catholicism views the world, but that's a discussion for another time. Right now, I recommend people with an interest in art and craft (obviously they overlap; an interesting question for people who liked to argue arts vs crafts is whether Bezalel and the others God had Moses get to make His sanctuary--see Exodus 25-31 and 35 on--were artists or craftsmen) check it out. As I haven't read it since back then and as I'm now afflicted with middle-age brain (something like what I once heard a pregnant woman call "preggers brain", except it doesn't go away), maybe I'll even take my own advice and re-read it.
Shop Class as Soulcraft
I've only read three or four New Atlantis articles, but every one of them was thought-provoking and Shop Class as Soulcraft is no exception. In it Matthew B. Crawford talks about manual labor and craftsmanship, questioning assumptions that manual work is mindless (a relatively recent notion, I think) and white collar work is automatically mentally stimulating, giving a little of the history of vocational classes and factory work, and thinking about the relationship of craftsmanship and consumerism. I'm probably going to reread it later, to make sure I've gotten everything I can from it.
Some quotes to whet your interest:
I read Pope John Paul II's Letter to Artists during my conversion and was impressed by its respect for art and artists. Among other things, the Holy Father said that artists have a special vocation and are needed by the Church, he spoke of history and the goodness of God's creation and said that we need beauty; there's no surprises there, but it was something I could not imagine any of the American televangelists writing.
When Pope John Paul II died, some commentators remarked on how, because JPII's body had been encumbered by age and disease for over a decade, we tended to forget he had been a good-looking, athletic man when he first became pope. Some of us may also forget (or never have known) that he was involved in the arts (actor, playwright and poet) before he became a priest. It may be that his personal experiences informed his Letter. But it's not reflective only of his personal views--the Church has a long and great history of supporting art (if that statement surprises you, where did you think all of those magnificent cathedrals, requiem masses, and religious paintings & sculpture came from?); I think this may be because of the incarnational way Catholicism views the world, but that's a discussion for another time. Right now, I recommend people with an interest in art and craft (obviously they overlap; an interesting question for people who liked to argue arts vs crafts is whether Bezalel and the others God had Moses get to make His sanctuary--see Exodus 25-31 and 35 on--were artists or craftsmen) check it out. As I haven't read it since back then and as I'm now afflicted with middle-age brain (something like what I once heard a pregnant woman call "preggers brain", except it doesn't go away), maybe I'll even take my own advice and re-read it.
Shop Class as Soulcraft
I've only read three or four New Atlantis articles, but every one of them was thought-provoking and Shop Class as Soulcraft is no exception. In it Matthew B. Crawford talks about manual labor and craftsmanship, questioning assumptions that manual work is mindless (a relatively recent notion, I think) and white collar work is automatically mentally stimulating, giving a little of the history of vocational classes and factory work, and thinking about the relationship of craftsmanship and consumerism. I'm probably going to reread it later, to make sure I've gotten everything I can from it.
Some quotes to whet your interest:
"The satisfactions of manifesting oneself concretely in
the world through manual competence have been known to make a man quiet and
easy. They seem to relieve him of the felt need to offer chattering
interpretations of himself to vindicate his worth. He can simply point: the
building stands, the car now runs, the lights are on. Boasting is what a boy
does, who has no real effect in the world. But craftsmanship must reckon with
the infallible judgment of reality, where one’s failures or shortcomings cannot
be interpreted away."
"Being able to think materially about material goods,
hence critically, gives one some independence from the manipulations of
marketing, which typically divert attention from what a thing is to a back-story
intimated through associations..."
"The craftsman’s habitual deference is not toward the New,
but toward the distinction between the Right Way and the Wrong
Way."
"...trafficking in abstractions is not the same as
thinking."
Friday, July 21, 2006
Best Line I've Heard Lately and Why
I watched Spanglish last week. I saw a couple of good reviews of it when it came out, but I never would have watched it then because it had Adam Sandler and because I figured it was likely another "Americans bad, Mexicans good" thing. But recently my husband wanted to see 50 First Dates and having, to my surprise, enjoyed it, that got rid of the first objection and I was willing to try Spanglish. (As to the second objection, there is a little of that in there, but not enough to offend even me; I thought if was more that the mother wanted to be the one who exercised influence over her daughter, not so much that America is bad.) Turns out it is pretty good, as those reviews said.
The line I mention comes in when the self-centered, selfish wife of Sandler's character has moved on to out and out adultery. Her mother guesses and tells her that if she keeps on doing what she's doing, she will lose her husband. She says a few more, needed-to-be-said lines, and turns to leave. Daughter says something like, she could always count on her to make her hate herself. Mother turns, comes back, and says gently, "Honey, lately your low self-esteem is just good common sense."
That gave me my only LOL moment in the film, and it was a good long one. See, I've been waiting for someone to say something like that for a long time now. The high self-esteem brigade would have us believe that all people should feel good about themselves all the time. But I don't think so. If you're cheating on your spouse, neglecting your children, or running con jobs on elderly pensioners, then I don't think you should feel good about yourself. If you're stealing money from your company or stealing gas from the local gas station, you've earned your low self-esteem. If you're lying to your spouse about your spending habits or to your significant other about where you spent the weekend, that niggling sense of guilt is a healthy thing, not a sign you need a self-esteem workshop. Guilt, disappointment in ourselves, or just generally feeling bad about ourselves are often deserved feelings. And they can and should be spurs to help us repent and do better.
Of course, I'm not suggesting we should hang on to those feelings after they've passed their usefulness. It is natural to have some regrets over past misdeeds, but once we have repented and done our best to correct the problem, we should let it go. Jesus didn't say to the woman taken in adultery, "Go and wallow in guilt", he said, "Go and sin no more."
The line I mention comes in when the self-centered, selfish wife of Sandler's character has moved on to out and out adultery. Her mother guesses and tells her that if she keeps on doing what she's doing, she will lose her husband. She says a few more, needed-to-be-said lines, and turns to leave. Daughter says something like, she could always count on her to make her hate herself. Mother turns, comes back, and says gently, "Honey, lately your low self-esteem is just good common sense."
That gave me my only LOL moment in the film, and it was a good long one. See, I've been waiting for someone to say something like that for a long time now. The high self-esteem brigade would have us believe that all people should feel good about themselves all the time. But I don't think so. If you're cheating on your spouse, neglecting your children, or running con jobs on elderly pensioners, then I don't think you should feel good about yourself. If you're stealing money from your company or stealing gas from the local gas station, you've earned your low self-esteem. If you're lying to your spouse about your spending habits or to your significant other about where you spent the weekend, that niggling sense of guilt is a healthy thing, not a sign you need a self-esteem workshop. Guilt, disappointment in ourselves, or just generally feeling bad about ourselves are often deserved feelings. And they can and should be spurs to help us repent and do better.
Of course, I'm not suggesting we should hang on to those feelings after they've passed their usefulness. It is natural to have some regrets over past misdeeds, but once we have repented and done our best to correct the problem, we should let it go. Jesus didn't say to the woman taken in adultery, "Go and wallow in guilt", he said, "Go and sin no more."
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Sign of the Times
Out in Los Angeles some members of an Hispanic street gang are being tried for hate crimes for allegedly conspiring to kill blacks. Here's part of their defense:
See, they didn't kill him because they hated him, they killed him because they were bored.
Oh, well that's a relief.
Wait--no it's not. I'd rather live sandwiched between a family of KKK members and another of Louis Farrakhan's followers than have even one person on my block who's decided that murdering fellow human beings is an acceptable solution to the problem of boredom. Really. The latter is clearly the more dangerous. The racists might hate me (or other people on the block), but they probably don't hate enough to kill and even if they do, it will likely take some grievance, real or imagined, to set them off. With the murder-to-alleviate-boredom guy, everyone on the block is in danger every time there's nothing good on TV.
In a sane society "I killed him because I had nothing better to do that day" could not be considered a defense--no way, no how.
Defense attorney Reuven L. Cohen told jurors last week that one of
the slayings cited in the charges — the 1999 shooting of Kenneth Wilson — was
not a hate crime but "a simple gang killing committed out of boredom."
See, they didn't kill him because they hated him, they killed him because they were bored.
Oh, well that's a relief.
Wait--no it's not. I'd rather live sandwiched between a family of KKK members and another of Louis Farrakhan's followers than have even one person on my block who's decided that murdering fellow human beings is an acceptable solution to the problem of boredom. Really. The latter is clearly the more dangerous. The racists might hate me (or other people on the block), but they probably don't hate enough to kill and even if they do, it will likely take some grievance, real or imagined, to set them off. With the murder-to-alleviate-boredom guy, everyone on the block is in danger every time there's nothing good on TV.
In a sane society "I killed him because I had nothing better to do that day" could not be considered a defense--no way, no how.
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