2010 Reading Statistics

In 2010, I read...

Total number of books: 50

31 Fiction
19 Non-Fiction

10 Books related to my reading goals

17 Canadian books
(it helps that my goal-books also fell into this category)

6 Classics
3 Books on Penguin's Top 50 List
10 Total books read from Penguin's Top 50 so far (20%)
10 Unread books on my shelf from Penguin's Top 50

Favorites, looking back:
- Candide by Voltaire
- Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery
- How Proust Can Change Your Life by Alain de Botton
- Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan

Review of 2010 Goals

Goals for 2010:
- read Anne of Green Gables - done! check! hurrah! I even went on to read Emily of New Moon and a biography of L.M. Montgomery.
- read The Lord of the Rings - nope. These books are gigantic, and I never got into the mood for them. I guess I set my reading goals too high.
- change the pictures in the frames in the hall-square - done!
- write Christmas thank you cards - mostly done, I think. That was a long time ago, and now it's time to do it again.
- write five letters - I wrote lots and lots of letters! Five were completed by late summer, and then when I moved I began a habit of writing more.
- publish the first year of my blog - done! It was a frustrating situation due to shipping errors, but I think I'll go ahead and publish more... I'm not in a hurry though. (It doesn't help that I wrote so much in the next year - that's a lot to edit and pay for!)
- clean out the fridge and cupboards - I did this. And then I super duper did this when I moved out.
- cook 12 recipes out of one cookbook - I don't think I achieved this one. I tried, and it inspired me to cook more, but twelve recipes out of one book took too much perseverance. Over the year, I definitely made twelve recipes out of several books, though! That's almost success!

Books Read - Fall 2010

1. Julie and Julia by Julie Powell
2. Timeline by Michael Crichton
3. Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (updated by David Wright)
4. The Toss of a Lemon by Padma Viswanathan
5. Rilla of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery (#8)*
6. Yoga for the Desk Jockey by Susi Hately Aldous
7. Eating Well by Heidi Murkoff
8. Pilgrim in the Palace of Words by Glenn Dixon
9. Emily of New Moon by L.M. Montgomery*
10. Maud: The Life of L.M. Montgomery by Harry Bruce*

This probably doesn't count

I'm sorry for the silence.
Now I'm going to bed.

Christmas Cards

All the Christmas cards that I'm using this year have sparkles on them. Sparkles everywhere. Sparkles kinda scare me - I'm always sure that/afraid that I will get sparkles in my eyes. They're tricky things, those sparkles. They fall off your Christmas cards and stick to your fingers, then you rub your face, and then five hours later you glance at yourself in the mirror and see the sparkles creeping towards your eye lashes. I'm afraid that if they do get in my eyes, they'll scratch my eyeballs. Sparkles be gone!
Yeah, I know, this is a bizarre quirky phobia.

I find that my writing has gotten a lot worse over the years. It's messier, less controlled. I think I blame work, the word "utility" comes to mind, I often write quickly, and having the paper at awkward angles doesn't help. I don't like this trend... but it's hard to turn around. Maybe I need to spend some time slowing down.

I'm having a bit of a Christmas Card List dilemma. Where do I draw the line, especially with people at work? Do I just give cards to the people I really like, or do I give one to everyone I regularly interact with? There are people that I'm really not a fan of, but maybe giving them a Christmas card would be a vote for a better future between us. And I guess it's not really that hard to write a quick Christmas greeting - and being remembered could be so valuable to them. Hmm...

I'm leaving sparkles all over the Starbucks table. Beware your eyes, next coffeehouse guests!

Relax

I am making a tradition of walking to Starbucks on one of my days off and taking some time for myself. Somehow that's easier when I'm away from home - at home there are too many distractions that make it hard to get things done and hard to sufficiently relax. Sometimes you just need to get away.

"Taking time for myself" results in writing a lot of letters. I think about someone and want to express those thoughts or memories to them. I want to stay in touch with my out-of-town friends, and writing letters has always been a big part of who I am. It feels good to embrace that. I know how good it feels to get real mail, and I am glad to be giving that joy. Also, writing to friends is a way of sorting through my life and reflecting.

(I'm having a hard time pluralizing things today... I've caught myself twice already. Weird. So if there are some I've missed, I'm sorry! But if I acknowledge this current propensity, it makes it less censurable. And see, I still know how to use big words!)

Today the comfy chairs were free when I got to Starbucks, so I got to relax in comfort. It's not as busy here on Saturdays as it is on Fridays. I tried to come yesterday, but I kinda spent the entire day sitting on the couch reading in my pajamas. I didn't actually face the day until seven o'clock. So my Starbucks time got moved to the second of my days off this week.

This is the third week of this tradition, and I love it. I hope it continues.

Singular

I got an email from my ex-step-mom a couple weeks ago:

That sounds fine Michelle. Just call me tomorrow and leave a message on my phone as to where I can find my car.
Thanks Mom

We haven't talked in over a year, and despite its specific and unexplained subject matter, this email was very out-of-the-blue. I don't have her car, and I never called her "Mom." But there's a very easy explanation: her daughter is also named "Michelle," and she must have just sent her message to the wrong email address.

I responded:

I think you sent this email to the wrong Michelle. =)

Short and sweet. And I didn't ever hear back from her. I thought that she might send some sort of Oh, that's funny! By the way, how are you doing? I'd love to get back in touch! sort of response... but I got nothing. To be fair, I could have said all those things to her and I didn't. But I did put an encouraging smiley face. And she was the one who had said back then that she would always be my step-mom. I guess that wasn't true. And I guess it still hurts.

Gigantic Starbucks

Today I found the biggest Starbucks cup ever:
WAHOO!!
It's as big as my head!
(It's actually a canister. Although I'm not sure what I'll use it for, I just had to have it.)

Chosen

Katie and Patrick got engaged a few months ago. Then the day before yesterday, they stopped by work and Katie asked me if I would be her bridesmaid! (She had hinted at this possibility beore, so I wasn't completely shocked.) First I think I said "Okay!" in an excited voice, then I asked her what I'd have to do and warned her I'm bad at planning parties. She said all I have to do is wear a dress and shoes, come to the parties, and help her write thank you cards. I can totally do all those things!

Although I wasn't shocked to be chosen as one of Katie's bridesmaids, I am surprised. Am I really that important of a friend in her life - one of the top few? I remember all of the times I haven't really appreciated her and feel ashamed. I want to feel like I am a good friend to her, someone worthy of being her bridesmaid.

I guess Katie and I have known each other for six years now and have been good friends for about four. We trained at work together, we've gone shopping together, we go out for coffee and lunch and dinner together. When she moved away to go to school, I went to visit her. We've baked cookies together and had crocheting parties together. And her family likes me (and I guess they thought I'd be a more deserving bridesmaid than another friend of hers). I've also been a good friend of Patrick's, and I've seen their relationship develop. The three of us hung out together before they started dating, and I was the one she talked to when things started developing between them.

Choosing a wedding party really makes a person rate their friendships. And I feel like it's also a vote of confidence for the future: I will be in their wedding pictures, and their kids will either say, "Who's that?" or "That's Michelle!" If I'm going to be given an honored role as they get married, I ought to remain around for everything else too.

Motto

So, I have discovered that my motto these days is, "I'm so not impressed." I've found this to be my exclamation in situations like "You didn't tell me he wasn't transferring? I'm so not impressed," and, "They reloaded this Starbucks card, when I very clearly told them I wanted the other one? I'm so not impressed."
It's a pretty crappy motto, isn't it. Pretty negative, at least - it doesn't really inspire appreciation for life. But I do like having an expression of displeasure, and being able to admit that things aren't ideal and that that is okay. There's something nice about acknowledging dissatisfaction.

Books Read - Summer 2010

1. Cheats, Charlatans, and Chicanery by Andreas Schroeder
2. Star Wars: Children of the Jedi by Barbara Hambly
3. Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton
4. Speaking Truth to Power by M.A. Apostol
5. The Reader by Bernhard Schlink
6. Boundaries in Marriage by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend
7. Rainbow Valley by L.M. Montgomery (#7)*
8. Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Work News

I work alone now.

There have been a lot of changes at work lately; two new stores are opening in the area (and a new competition has taken some of our people as well), so as a result of transfers we've got a whole different array of staff. All the managers I report to are different, including my direct manager and our store manager. And Geoff, my Payroll coworker, got a promotion at the new store, so he is leaving too.

Today was Geoff's last day. And I've gotten used to the idea of not having him around - months and months ago he anticipated quitting to pursue other ventures, then I knew about his application to transfer, then I knew when he got the new position, and now he is gone. I'm not as afraid of my new role (as the most knowledgeable Payroll person) as I was at first - I've had time to grow into it. And it'll be okay. Of course, it will suck for a while too because there is no one to replace Geoff (or perhaps to replace me, as I move into Geoff's role). We've known that Geoff was leaving for quite a while, but they haven't given us anyone new. Boo. Whenever I do get a helper, I hope they're competent. I can't handle another training episode like the last one.

Geoff wrote me a goodbye card, in which he said: "I'm very thankful to have gotten to know you over the past year and a half. You're a very kind and intelligent woman, and have improved both the company and me as a person. Thank you for everything!" I was really touched by this. I know I've frustrated him at times (and vice versa), and I'm glad to know that in spite of that we part on very good terms. He appreciated me too. He complimented me on kindness, which is something I don't really expect these days, and he complimented me on intelligence, which is nice because he also gets to see pretty un-intelligent sides of me. (I make dumb mistakes and then we laugh at them. Today I kept writing "gong" and "gene" while trying to write "gone" over and over.) I feel like these compliments are sincere - something I can believe and not just brush off as flattery. And he accompanied his kind words with a Starbucks card, which I'm super excited about.

I'm going to miss laughing with Geoff. We are really funny. We laugh at my dumb mistakes and irrational dislikes, I mock him for his slip-ups, we enjoy spelling and grammar disasters and have numerous crazy inside jokes. ("Have you seen Deb?" Frankie Smitherson!!! Chinbone! Chore!)

We can still keep in touch. There's the company mail bag, and email. I told him I'd continue to email him hilarity (which probably won't be all that funny at all if you're not there for it, but he said he'll laugh anyway).

And I've gotten better at losing people. Change doesn't seem so threatening; I find myself appreciating what I've had but believing that what's coming could be good too.

Labelled

As an alumni, I continue to be invited to potluck dinners with my major from school. I value remaining welcome and connected to them. It's neat to see the group evolve, although it feels a little awkward to be on the outside of it. Sometimes it also feels awkward to re-enter aspects of that phase of my life.

One of these gatherings occurred last night. It was a lovely time of reconnecting, and as hoped, I found a welcoming outlet for the books I've recently purged from my shelves!

At one point in the evening, our professor was telling us about how much she loves seeing her students grow and change throughout the years of her tutelage. As alumni, of course, we were the examples. "I was really, really quiet," Amanda volunteered. I didn't say anything, so our professor said of me, "Michelle was sceptical, but God is working on that in her." I continued my halfhearted smile.

Sceptical, huh. One word that begs so much explanation. What on earth is she referring to?

Is she saying I was sceptical about God? Although I am no longer a person of faith, I do not believe that this falling away was evident in me back then. If anything, I feel like I am an example against the idea that those who fall away were never really Christians to begin with (the perseverance of the saints). I was genuine. (Unless this is a matter of election... I was sincere but not chosen, and somehow she recognized that, although she would never put it that way?) And the events that led to my giving up were not so much a matter of scepticism as of pain and darkness. Even in those steps I was living genuinely out of my circumstances.

Is she instead saying that she found me sceptical towards our topic of study? I don't see that either. I came back to school because I was so excited about the mystics after reading John of the Cross. When I try to picture "sceptical," I come across synonyms like dour and uninvolved, but in my early memories of school I was anything but that. I remember how excited and involved I was in starting our community, and how I invited everyone out for coffee after class. I didn't start out sceptical. But eventually I started to feel angst in her classes. In addition, I was in a dry and dark place and "spirituality" wasn't very fruitful for me. But this is the field that recognizes and understands such arid times!

Maybe... maybe she feels like I was sceptical of her view of spiritual theology. Maybe it all boils down to her. We did stand on the opposite sides of some issues and we weren't always comfortable with each other. She prides herself on her intuition, but I have found it to be faulty when applied to me (like when she asked if my expression of painc was an attempt to control something). Maybe her statement reveals little more than her current feelings about me, and that some bitterness remains between us.

Based on the context of her speech, it seems that she should be identifying a characteristic that she saw in me early on and an area that changed significantly by the time I finished my college education. Her phrasing, however, suggests a current observation ("God is working on that"). I didn't start out sceptical, and if anything, I became more sceptical as my time at school went on. Another friend of mine from that time does not remember scepticism as a primary characteristic of mine at all when he first met me (and I didn't bother asking about now).

To be honest, I felt a little slandered by her description of me. There were new people in this group whom I hadn't met before, and who were forming their opinion of me based on the fact that I gave them books, and then the fact that she called me sceptical. It was as if this was how she was introducing me to them. They don't know what contributed to this statement; they are left to imagine. I guess it's a good thing I won't see them much in the future... or maybe that just makes it all immaterial.

Moving Concluding

Goal: to blog about moving in 20 minutes.
Setting: Personal Project Night at Danaya's, where we get together and get stuff done. I've spend the first hour and a bit addressing moving announcements. I should go soon, but if I don't do this here, I'm not sure when I'll get to it. (Oh no, two minutes gone already?!)

So, moving. I'm moved in. It's nice. I'm not unpacked and there's a bunch of work left to do at my old place, but I'm getting settled and I'm enjoying it. I'm just tired, and not so motivated to do more work. Sigh.

I had a couple of pre-moving parties before my actual moving party on Saturday. These were really lovely. They consisted in inviting a friend or two at a time to meet at my old place, loading up each of our cars with boxes, going over to my new place, unloading and having a tour, and then going out for coffee or something together. I felt like I wasn't asking all that much of them (it's possible they'll disagree though...) - it wasn't an endless moving party that couldn't end until all the work was done, and it gave them a chance to be involved in this important time of my life in a setting where we could spend some one-on-one time together and they were needed - no getting lost in the shuffle and not knowing what to do. I feel like the people who are important in my life should be involved in the moments that are important in my life, and I valued these mini-moving parties.

My major moving party was on the weekend and was pretty successful. My Mom came up for it, and it was really nice to have her. There was unfortunately still a bunch of moving left to be done (I hoped falsely that most of it would be completed by then), and I unfortunately wasn't feeling well (I almost always face the bane of women's existence during moving parties, and this was no exception). My friends worked tirelessly to haul stuff outside and arrange stuff in cars and the truck while I tried to pack up the loose ends inside. I felt like I wasn't pulling my weight, but I don't think I could have managed all those stairs and I was so grateful for their help.

Stairs. That's been the worst thing about this moving experience: stairs. 29 stairs to get things out of my old apartment, 35 stairs from top to bottom at the new place. I'm tired of stairs.

Ding! Time's up! And I'm out of things to say, so that worked out nicely. =)

Reasons for not blogging

inspiration
lack thereof
busy
sleepy

things fill my mind that aren't worth writing about
packing boxes, loading cars, climbing stairs
actively doing instead of sitting and thinking
buzz buzz buzz
and then laying down for a nap

carving out time for writing
doesn't guarantee the words will meet me there
but I'll try anyways
because I think doing something
is better than doing nothing
even if the finished product isn't that great

success!

Picture

I just thought this picture looked really cool:

(It's a shadow of strands of my hair on the shower wall.)

Update

Dear Friends,
You have all been out of town. I hope you've had lovely times away.
Thanks for your condolences upon your return!

(Come on, Michelle, just write something! This blog post should be more than three lines long, and you just took a three hour nap so you don't need to go to bed yet.)

So, I don't really feel well. I think that's because I got hit by a car. My bruises turned kinda green and are fading already, and thanks to Polysporin fresh pink skin has taken the place of scabs on my scraped leg. So I'm getting better. The other day I walked to Starbucks without getting hit by a car, and today I wore pants again for the first time (I've been sticking with skirts that are nice to my bruised hip and scraped shin). Maybe most of my residual problems are emotional? I feel nauseous a lot of the time. I'm not handling stress well - and this has been a high-stress time at work because Geoff is on two weeks of vacation and I am doing it all myself (or at least I need to be... the list of things I haven't gotten to yet is fantastically long). I am not prioritizing well and I don't feel able to make good decisions. I get overwhelmed by interruptions and the pile of tasks facing me, and then I get upset at things. I've been bringing roll-on anti-stress aromatherapy to work and drinking anti-stress juice (which they tell me looks like whiskey... but is really just some herbal Arizona iced tea I found in the States). Anxiety was getting me even on my day off though (yeah, singular, I had to work the other day I was supposed to be off because of all busyness at work; if I didn't it would have just made more work for me in the long run). I'm exhausted and sleep is my favorite (even more than usual). Even a week and a half later, telling the story of what happened makes me pretty shaky.

So, I'm just counting everything as a success right now. I got to work? Success! I got to work half an hour late? Success! Granted, not quite as much success as if I had gotten there on time, but success nonetheless. I keyed the sick log? Success! I answered someone's question? Success! I bought paper towel and laundry money? Success! I went to the bottle depot? Success! I wrote on my blog? Success!

On one hand, it's nice to have an excuse. "I got hit by a car! No wonder I don't feel well!" That's way better than feeling awful with no reason to show for it - which then compounds itself with the guilt and mystery. On the other hand, though, functioning is important, and at some point excuses wear out.

Ka-Pow!!

So, I got hit by a car today.

Here's the conversation that happened shortly afterwards between me and Justin:

m: guess who has 2 thumbs and got hit by a car... (don't worry, i'm mostly okay)
j: Boo! What happened? (Mazda should stop getting hit)
m: no actually this was just me
j: Oh... um well you shouldn't get hit either, how did it happen were they having a nap
m: crossing the street from starbucks... someone turned left and didn't see me
j: Boo are you sure your OK though?
m: half scraped up... i've already been to the doctor and now i'm on my way to the police
j: wow your not mostly ok.. boo!!!

So, as the text record explains, I was on my lunch break, walking back to work from Starbucks, when BAM!! And despite what Justin says, I'm mostly okay, so you don't have to worry.

I was crossing on a crosswalk at a four way stop in the commercial area where I work. This particular intersection is usually pretty quiet, but today was an exception. I'm usually not too timid about crossing at four-ways - I figure that not only do pedestrians have the right-away, but the car needs to stop for the stop sign anyways. In this instance, there was a really big truck stopped beside the stop sign - he was covering my entire crosswalk! I figured that he would be gone by the time I got over to that side of the road - but I didn't count on the car turning left in front of him. They couldn't see me since he was so big and pulled out so far, and I didn't seem them until the last moment.
One second I'm trying to get out of the way, the next I'm on my butt with my feet up on the curb. My shoes flew off and a little ways down the road. Weird. I remember thinking "I need to open my eyes." I might have thought "I need to try not to hit my head." I have no idea exactly what happened - where I hit the car or what positions I went through between standing and sitting.

I was coming back from Starbucks with two full drinks - a pick-me-up for me (the day was miserable even without this incident) and a surprise for my manager. And then there was coffee everywhere - all over the road, the car, my sweater, my hair, my arm. I think I just found some dried coffee on the back of my shoulder.

The girl that hit me, Janna, was really nice. She was one of those very capable people who doesn't run from stressful situations, and I admire and appreciated that. She immediately got out of her car and ran over to me. She asked those "Do you know where/who you are" questions to make sure my head was okay. I decided we didn't need to call 911 (which I found out later you're kind of always supposed to do... but oh well), and instead she took me over to the doctor's office in the area. She waited while I saw the doctor, took me to Starbucks and replaced my coffees, came with me to work to explain things to my manager ("Hi Omara, sorry I'm an hour late from lunch, but I got hit by a car and I need to go home." They thought it was a joke.), and then joined me at the police station. She felt guilty and said she was sorry a hundred times. I responded in a variety of ways: "It's okay," then "I've heard you and you don't have to keep saying it... unless you need to get it out," and then "I know." She was very supportive through the whole process. I'm aware of what a stressful situation it was for her, and I appreciated her. (If it was me, I don't think I would have reacted so well, as awful as that sounds.)

The doctor was pretty nice too. Conveniently, this is the doctor that I've seen a couple of times for other things. The office was technically closed, but they let me sneak in anyways. I didn't have to tell them my name - they knew who I was! That really impressed me. She checked me out and cleaned my up, and gave me gauze, and then as we left the doctor told Janna that I'm one of her favorite patients. I don't know if I really believe that - I'm just a walk-in! - but it was nice to hear.

So I'm all scraped and bruised up, especially on the right hand side. I scraped my shin and elbow, and bruised my hip. I scraped my foot through my socks, and my knee through my tights. I scraped my ribs through my dress. And I keep finding more bruises. There's a whopper on my left knee that I didn't discover until a few hours later, and something's coming on my left thigh- I can't see it yet, but I can feel it there. My head's starting to hurt too - just a vague ache - but the doctor said that would happen. I guess I'm supposed to feel way worse tomorrow. But really, considering what it could have been, it wasn't that bad.

Happy Canada Day

A house on the street where my Mom lives is very festive. They decorate for every season they possibly can. (Hallowe'en and Christmas are outstanding.) They even decorate for holidays that don't typically inspire decorations, like Canada Day.

That or they just really like Canada - this was already up at the beginning of May.

ᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒᴒ

Justin and I spent Canada Day leaving the country. "Nuts to you, Canada, we're going down to the States!" But then we'll say the same thing to Montana on Independance Day. That means that we'll miss all the fireworks - but we caught some at a special Fireworks Baseball Game on Wed night, and we're seeing stands selling fireworks all over Montana.

Fad

So remember when I wrote about listing all the different Starbuckses I've been to? I questioned whether this was actually something I wanted to do, and figured I'd go for it. My decision was influence by this passage I remembered from The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon:

"Mrs. Forbes said that hating yellow and brown is just being silly. And Siobhan said that she shouldn't say things like that and everyone has favorite colours. And Siobhan was right. But Mrs. Forbes was a bit right, too. Because it is sort of being silly. But in life you have to take lots of decisions and if you don't take decisions you would never do anything because you would spend all your time choosing between things you could do. So it is good to have a reason why you hate some things and you like others. It is like being in a restaurant... and you look at the menu and you have to choose what you are going to have. But you don't know if you are going to like something because you haven't tasted it yet, so you have favorite foods and you choose these, and you have foods that you don't like and you don't choose these, and then it is simple." (108)

Of course, this is articulated by an autistic character that perhaps I ought not emulate... but it makes sense that the little preferences you develop can reduce the decisions you need to make and add joy to your life. Going to new Starbuckses has given me something fun to do, and provided me with a sense of purpose (particularly on vacations). It's nice to do things towards a goal. And I enjoy adding new Starbuckses and stories to the map I've made to keep track this project (let me know if you're interested in seeing it!). Seeing the sunshines add up makes me happy!

I'm pretty excited about this, and since being introduced to the idea in April I've gone to twenty-seven new Starbuckses to bring my total up to fifty! I consider this all a bit of a fad, though. Soon I will run out of nearby Starbuckses to visit, and then the project will slow down significantly. Also, as I write little vignettes about each location, I find that the memories from before I began the project are more precious than the stories that basically go "I came here because I had to add another one to my list!" Doing things like going for coffee are more beautiful when there's no overarching purpose behind them. Knowing this is just a fad for me makes me more okay with my current infatuation, though. I can enjoy it while it lasts, without being crazy about this forever.

A funny story on the topic: several weeks ago, my Mom was visiting me and was on the phone with a friend of hers here in town. We were going to go out for coffee with her, and I had expressed a desire to go to a Starbucks that I hadn't been to yet since we were likely to be in a different area of town. My Mom passed this on to her friend: "Michelle is addicted to Starbucks." And I corrected her: "Not addicted, just obsessed!" Then we laughed. And since, she has accompanied me to several other new-to-me locations.

Driving

Alberta has beautiful clouds. I notice them most when I'm driving on the highway. And cameras don't catch it at all.

Psychology of Numbers

Have you ever heard of the psychology of colours? The idea is that different colours affect us unconsciously in different ways. Red implies urgency and makes us rush. Blue might create peace and calmness (I'm trying to remember), and blue or green rooms definitely make us feel colder. (My Mom, who is a nurse, has seen this firsthand: patients in hospital rooms with blue or green walls ask for more blankets than those in red or orange rooms.)

I wonder if there is also a psychology of numbers. Do we inherently react differently to different types of numbers? For instance, think about 195, and then about 153. Do they feel any differently to you?

I find numbers that end in a 5 or 10 carry a feeling of completeness. Those ending in 2 are comfortingly even. Numbers that have repeating digits, digits that are multiples of others, or digits that add up in certain ways (like 363) interest me.

Is this just me? As I was thinking about this I began to wonder how much junior high math has haunted me, and whether I approach any number wondering if I'll be required to factor it...

195 = 5 x 3 x 13

363 = 3 x 11 x 11

153 = eh? (3 x 3 x 17)

Books Read - Spring 2010

1. The Piano Man's Daughter by Timothy Findley
2. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
3. Anne of Windy Poplars by L.M. Montgomery (#4)*
4. Anne's House of Dreams by L.M. Montgomery (#5)*
5. Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin
6. The Birth House by Ami McKay
7. Every Woman's Battle by Shannon Ethridge
8. Dune by Frank Herbert
9. Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert
10. Pooh and the Philosophers by John Tyerman Williams
11. How to be a Canadian by Will Ferguson and Ian Ferguson
12. The First Time by Joy Fielding
13. Slumdog Millionaire by Vikas Swarup
14. Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town by Stephen Leacock
15. Anthem by Ayn Rand
16. Becoming Human by Jean Vanier
17. Anne of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery (#6)*
18. Marcia Schuyler by Grace Livingston Hill
19. Phoebe Deane by G.L. Hill
20. Miranda by G.L. Hill

Golden Rule

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

Is it fair to say that the Golden Rule is the basic summation of decent conduct? I have several concerns with it, though:

1) As someone else has previously articulated, it doesn't work if you're a masochist. Even if you enjoy causing yourself pain, it is not apropriate to treat other people the same way.

2) It is difficult to know how you would like to be treated in a certain situation if you have not experienced it before. For instance, I don't know how I'd want people to act if a close family member died, because I've never lost a member of my immediate family. It's hard to imagine.

3) People are different. My tastes, preferences, and faux pas are different than those of other people; therefore the things that please me will not necessarily please other people. (George Bernard Shaw said, "Do not do unto others as you would that they should do unto you. Their tastes may not be the same.") I would love to receive Junior Mints or a Big Turk bar from Justin, but he would hate to receive these same things from me. This realization necessitates a deeper interpretation of the Golden Rule: instead of simply giving someone what I would like to receive, I need to consider their preferences the way I would want mine to be considered. But... it is difficult to anticipate another person's preferences (especially if I do not know them very well).
Lately I've found myself in several situations where I want to treat my hosts and their posessions with courtesy, but I don't know what courtesy means to them. If I rinse my dishes and put them on the counter, am I exceeding expectations (by rinsing them well), or falling short (but not putting them straight into the dishwasher)? Do they have any rules about walking on the grass that mean I should keep off of it? (I do, just in case.) Should I make a strong effort to keep the conversation going, or would they prefer to sit in peaceful silence? I hate the misunderstandings that arise when someone reads my goodwill as an insult.

4) Sometimes there's only so much attention and kindness to go around, and treating one person as you'd like to be treated means that you are not able to treat another person that way. Perhaps saying a proper goodbye to someone means you'll be late for meeting someone else, but neglecting one is just as bad as the other. It's impossible to apply the Golden Rule fairly to everyone.

It's hard to navigate life when I can't even aspire to following the Golden Rule...

T-Shirt

"Live crowned with glory, or swear to die gloriously."
coronados de gloria vivamos, o juremos con gloria morir.
from the Argentinian national anthem

Ouch

Once upon a time, my ex and I thought we were going to get married. A lady that I looked up to at the time as a mentor had some previous experience as a pre-marital and pre-engagement counsellor, so we spent some time talking with her and her husband, preparing for marriage.

I clearly remember one question she posed. "Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce. Another forty percent are unhappy. What makes you think that your relationship will be the one in ten that works?" She meant it as a reality check.
What makes you think that you will be the anomaly? What makes you so special?

It's been six years, and neither the relationship with my ex nor the relationship with my mentor have lasted, but that question has remained with me. And it carries the weight of an even larger scope than marriage: what makes you think your life will be happy? What sets you apart from everyone else that will give you success when so many fail? When the odds are not in anyone's favour, what makes you think you'll be lucky?

There is no answer. Trying to point to anything seems naive and boastful. ("Because we're in love? Almost everyone is in love when they marry; that doesn't guarantee a happy marriage.)

So I expect doom, regret the advice I've been given, and try to move forward anyways. It's just hard not to limp sometimes.

Overlooked

So... is this blanket ugly? Or do the things related to me just become invisible?As previously mentioned, I made this aphgan for the silent auction we had at work to benefit the Children's Hospital. I saw it in a pattern book and thought it was beautiful, and then I spent four months making it. Granted, it wasn't my priority-project for those four months, and giving it to the Children's Hospital was a later decision. For a while I didn't like how the colours were coming together, but it turned out nicely.

We got a notice saying that silent auction donations could be given to one of three managers, one of whom was my direct manager. About a week before I expected the silent auction to begin, I brought my aphgan in and gave it to her. She gushed over it a bit, and then stored it in the conference room until other items were gathered... where it sat. And sat. As the silent auction began and the lunch room filled up with donations, my aphgan still sat in the conference room.

After about a week I brought it up with my manager. "If I wanted to donate something for the silent auction," I asked, "who should I give it to?" She looked really confused as she said that I could give it to her. "But what I gave you is still in the conference room. And that tells me that my donation and the work I put into it is not valued." She apologized and felt so embarrassed, and I guess she had an argument with the other manager involved in the silent auction later about it. The other manager had been responsible for putting things out, and she didn't know whether my aphgan was for the silent auction or not. She claims she asked everyone, and no one else knew either... but several significant people knew, so I don't believe she tried all that hard. And anyways, the notice said that donations could be given to my manager, but she did not make sure that they were followed through.

After this conversation, my manager immediately made sure my blanket was put out. But she described it as a "Mini Aphgan" (although it was by no means "mini") and placed the minimum bid at $10.00. This matched the description and donation set for the other two aphgans that a coworker of mine had donated - but those were baby aphgans, and my was two or three times larger. Again, I felt like my work was being devalued.

Two people bid on it. One person started it at $10.00, and then Sue raised the bidding to $15. She got it for that. She would have engaged in a bidding war with anyone else who would play along, but no one else was interested. She has an idea of the work that went into it, and I am glad that it went to a good home, but I am disappointed. It contained about $30 of yarn, as well as the hours and hours I put in. It looks like all my work just took value out of the raw materials. Sad.

On one hand, I donated it freely and perhaps should just let it go, no strings attached. It was no longer mine. On the other hand, it could have done so much better, and I feel like I gave more than the Children's Hospital received. Maybe next year I won't try so hard...

That's Weird

I got up this morning and found my bathroom cupboard open. "That's interesting," I thought, "I don't remember grabbing anything out of there." Then I walked out into the main area of my apartment and found a box that usually sits on top of a basket of junk in the corner but was now in the middle of the floor. Now, I know I didn't leave that there. But it wouldn't have fallen there (it was pretty sturdy), and the door was locked and chained. So, I think I might be sleepwalking.

UUUUUUUU

On another note, my Mom is coming to visit tomorrow. So I need to clean my house!!

Starbucks: A Vacation Photo Journal

Travel Day

This Starbucks was in the airport, before security. I knew there would also probably be one after security, but I had already been to that one and I had a little bit of time to spare so I got a drink here. I had to drink it kinda fast, though, because I couldn't take any liquids through security. Vacation, here I come!

Day 1

We were walking downtown on my first day here, and our agenda was kept secret from me. We approached a Starbucks, and I thought about asking to stop, but I wasn't sure what we were heading to and I didn't want to seem crazy. But it turns out that Starbucks was our destination! Wahoo!
Mara gave me a fantastic cartoon map of downtown with all the Starbuckses labelled. She also pointed out to us that she was dressed like Starbucks that day!

To keep my current Starbucks infatuation from going overboard, I feel that it is appropriate to limit myself to one drink a day. I explained that Mara and Idris, but Mara disagreed. "We need to go to at least one more today," she argued. And I figured that I would disregard my guideline while I was on vacation and there were so many new locations around.
We stopped here for dessert after dinner, and spent a long time sitting and relaxing.

Day 2

We stayed at home this day, and did not have any Starbucks. Instead, we lounged in the sun (and I got a bit of a sunburn), ate apples and peanut butter, took a walk, barbecued dinner, and watched a movie. It was a nice day.

Day 3

I ventured out on my own this day. I took the transit downtown, and then walked quite a ways to my destination instead of transferring and taking the transit farther. I got off at the wrong stop, which made my walk longer, but as a result I passed the only Starbucks I saw on that portion of my journey. The barista was very friendly, and he reassured me that I was going north. He also exclaimed, "I love no-water-earl-grey-tea-lattes!" and that was refreshing, because they often just misunderstand my request. ("Non-fat?" "No, no water.")

On my way back from my solitary adventure, I was relieved to find this Starbucks. I was thirsty, I was running short on time, I wasn't exactly sure where I was going (my map didn't include all the streets), and a quick Starbucks stop is always good news in such cases. And this location had this fantastic sign - since when is "booyah" a word acknowledged in advertising?!

Day 4

On this day, we went to a different city - one that only has 2 Starbucks locations, neither that was close to where we were. Thus, we did not enjoy any Starbucks on this day either. But I made up for it on the other days!

Day 5

We met downtown around lunchtime (well, lunchtime for one, breakfast time for the other two of us) and we were hungry. After we had lunch, I pulled out my Starbucks map and asked where we were. It turns out we were really close to this Starbucks, so we stopped by there after lunch. Idris, are you sure that you don't think I'm crazy for this Starbucks infatuation?

After exploring the art gallery, I stopped here for refreshment as I concluded my vacation. I was tired of walking and it was nice to rest my feet before I headed back, and to sneak in one more Starbucks experience before I headed home.

Travel Day

This was in the airport, as I left and came home. I enjoyed the drink while waiting to board the airplane, and the lemon cranberry scone as an on-flight snack.

Moment of Anticipation

I'm at the airport. I'm going on vacation, going to visit a friend.
My last-minute ride was half an hour late. A neighbour who noticed me sitting on the steps offered to drive me, and I was just taking him up on it when my friend pulled up. But I made it in time. I checked in online already, and I zipped through the baggage check.
I packed light! I fit all my stuff into my mini wheely luggage! ... and two carry-ons. But one of them just has my coat and shoes in it, and gives me more flexibility in case I come home with more than I go over there with. (Can "I packed light" and "I'm bringing four pairs of shoes" go in the same sentence? I guess that's two sentences, so the answer is no.)
I could barely find the food court! "I think the airport shrunk on me," I thought. But then it showed up.
I found a Starbucks, one I hadn't been to before, and got a London Fog. (And some madeleines!) Another one to add to the list! I took a picture of the Starbucks; maybe that's how I'll chronicle my trip.
The airport has free internet!
My flight leaves in 75 mins and boards in 45. I'm going to head across security in 15 mins or so - but first I need to finish my 'coffee.' Can't take liquids past security, and I know there is a Starbucks on the other side, but I also know I've been there before. That's no fun.
I bought a sub. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in one?
This is a good moment - the moment of anticipation, waiting for something good to start. Waiting to get on an airplane and take off, and having a few minutes of leisure to enjoy this moment.

Tiny Grass

It's summery outside!
And I am so tired.

Doodling

I really hate it when...

...I complain about something I see in someone else that bothers me, and then begin to notice it more and more in myself.

I'm sorry?

Completed

I thought I'd share about my most recent crocheting project. I found this pattern (with recommended colours and everything) in a little pattern book, and I thought it looked so good. When I realized that I could find all the colours I bought the yarn and started making it. But that was back in October or November; it hasn't been my priority project. That has been for several reasons: I had two Christmas projects to complete, I've been excited about working on other projects, and once I got going on this one I thought the colours clashed. It's hard to be excited about something when it seems to be turning out ugly. Luckily the dark variegated colour joining all the squares together also really tied all the colours together, and the completed project looks way better than I feared along the way. But although I had started making it for myself, I don't really need another blanket and I didn't think I was going to like it as much as I had hoped, so part way through I changed my mind and decided to donate it to the silent auction benefiting the Children's Hospital that we will be having at work next month. I took it in and donated it today.

Basic Concept: Granny Square, with solid rows instead of shells
Yarn: Red Heart Worsted Weight (Super Saver)
Colours: Light Yellow, Cornmeal, Gold, Carrot, and Fall
Hook Size: 6.50 mm

Now I'm on to an even more exciting project!

Joke

What did the bunny say to the moose?
......
......
......
......
......
......There's some peanut butter over there!


Would you believe I made that up all by myself?
We laughed a lot at it tonight.
Sometimes the stupider something is, the funnier it is.

And Counting

So it turns out I'm not one of those people who can recall a conversation word-for-word. But ours went vaguely something like this: She said that someone posed to her the idea of counting how many individual different McDonaldses she has eaten at in her lifetime, and how that number seems huge at first, but is probably a lot smaller than originally imagined. A very interesting thought. However, I don't particularly like McDonalds. If I had a choice between eating at McDonalds and anywhere else, I tend to chose the other option. I mentioned that I would be more interested in counting how many Starbuckses I've been to. That number would be significantly larger.

I started a list; I got up to 23 specific ones that I can remember (plus one more I know I've been to but I have no idea where it is... in an Albertsons somewhere on the way to California). Now I want to try to expand that list! I think it would be fun to map out. (Does anyone know of an online map program where you can mark points and save where you've been?)

But I'm approaching this project thoughtfully, with consideration. Do I really want to do this - to begin a new obsession of visiting as many Starbuckses as possible, of codifying my life into yet another list (adding the list of Starbucks locations I've visited to the list of license plates I've seen in order, and the list of countries I can name)? Not that I tend to be an obsessive type of person (I don't think...) whose lists rule her life... And I suppose a good part of life consists of the games we play.

Skoch's Recital Concert

It was one of those evenings when it's hard to leave the house. Except you don't realize how hard until you're already out, and then you regret it.
Not that I actually regret going. The concert was fabulous, excellent, and amusing. The back-up band called themselves "The Coat Hangers." I think my favorite song was "Play That Funky Music White Boy." As well as having fantastic music, they had a bar fridge and couch on stage, and when a member of the band was exempt from a song he'd pop open a soda and relax. And Skoch played one of the songs with his guitar behind his back. It was awesome.
Everyone in the band was someone I have cared about significantly or vicariously. That meant I owed them the loyalty of being there (which I was glad to give), and that also made me uncomfortable. Because we're not in each other's lives anymore. And I just feel awkward around school crowds - not just them but everyone there. I didn't want to mingle during intermission.

I was so grateful to be beside a friend, someone who remains in my life and whose friendship I really value. I sat there imagining how I might introduce her to someone, and I surprised myself by the strength of the terms I'd use to describe our friendship. But whenever I think of expressing it to her, I lose all my words.
We sat in the front row, so we had a great view - but once things got started I all the sudden feared that I was much too boring, bland, and tired to be in the front row. Sigh. And at the end of the concert I discovered that I am afraid of participation. Big sigh.

I spent the concert thinking...
People are busy. They already pretty much have enough friends. Especially the fabulous people. I don't dare ask for anything... especially when I don't have much to give in return.
When I thought back to that time of life and re-immersed myself in that setting, I found myself asking, "Was I loved?" as if that was the question of utmost significance. Most of me answers, "Not enough." But part of me knows that the people surrounding me were loving, and that if I didn't feel loved that's not entirely their fault. I don't think that I felt like I was able to love them well, and then I didn't know how to receive their love for me.
I know that my true friends loved me, and somehow that seems tangential to the problem. I mourn the fact that I didn't feel loved, known, and accepted by the entire group, and that I wasn't able to feel or show that I cared for the group at large. Having a few true friends doesn't fix that. Unfortunately.

Books Read - Winter 2010

1. The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs
2. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery*
3. Anne of Avonlea by L.M. Montgomery (#2)*
4. Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery (#3)*
5. How Proust Can Change Your Life by Alain de Botton
6. Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery
7. 21 Days to a Thrifty Lifestyle by Mike Yorkey
8. Candide by Voltaire
9. Essays by George Orwell
10. The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff
11. At Home in Mitford by Jan Karon
12. Every Young Woman's Battle by Shannon Ethridge & Stephen Arterburn

* = in partial fulfillment of my New Years Resolutions

Notes:

- I really enjoyed The Know-It-All, subtitled "One man's humble quest to become the smartest person in the world." A.J. Jacobs also wrote "The Year of Living Biblically" and "The Guinea Pig Diaries," and in those books he alluded to this one, so I've been interested in reading it for a while and was happy when I found it on sale in a paperback edition. This is his story of reading through the Encyclopedia Brittanica from cover to cover (er - covers to covers - I guess it's 32 volumes). He passes on tidbits and facts that he learns through his reading, and he also shares his personal experiences related to this gain of knowledge: other people's opinions towards his project, awkward situations where he blurts out more than he should, the fine imposed by his wife for sharing irrelevant facts, his efforts to live up to his family's legacy of wisdom. Although it may sound dull to read a book about a guy who reads the encyclopedia, this book is highly entertaining and worth reading.

- I read Anne of Green Gables over and over when I was young, but now it has been a long time since I've taken them off the shelf. I remember how Mom bought me the whole set at Costco, and how proud I was to be reading something with a reading level of ten years old when I was only nine. Now as I re-read them I have found that I remembered almost everything from the first book, but I've forgotten almost everything from the next few. None of the scenes in the third book were familiar to me and I never knew what was coming next. That will change a little bit as I progress to the final few books of the series - I have some recollections from them because they were my favorites. But the things I remember the most are the things included in the movies. And I also wonder if the middle books are just less memorable: I already forget details, and I just read them!
Lucy Maud Montgomery changed her writing style a bit between the first and second book of the series. For instance, in the second book she started using ellipses (...) where brackets or dashes would be better suited. Then in the third book she began using dashes where commas would have worked just fine, but luckily that didn't go on too long.
If I met Anne in real life these days, I'm not sure that we would be friends. She would say I have no imagination, and I would say she's too gushy. I've been impatient with that lately - in real life as well as in literature.

- Gourmet Rhapsody (the sequel to The Elegance of the Hedgehog) was fantastically good, but a little anti-climatic. A food critic on his deathbed searches for a long-forgotten perfect taste, but what he finally comes up with, choux, is something I am unfortunately unfamiliar with, as the book is translated from French.

- In an English class anthology, I once read "Shooting an Elephant" by George Orwell, and it was so interesting that it made me realized that essays don't have to be boring and dull. Unfortunately, many Essays are still boring and dull, and I was so glad to be finished reading this book. Granted, there were some good ones, but after reading fifty pages about English Socialism around the time of the World Wars, I wasn't really taking this book seriously anymore.

Delights

My Mom came to visit me! I was a little apprehensive about this; I find spending time with my family very tiring, if she was going to come to my place I would have to do a lot of cleaning, and I wasn't feeling well in the week preceding her visit. But it turned out lovely. We spent our time away from my apartment, so it didn't matter that it remained a bit of a mess. Instead, we went shopping and went out for dinner.

The hilight of our adventure was going to the Farmer's Market. I was surprised to find it open in March, and then I was surprised again to find so much classy stuff there. (That's where Mom got the beautiful cup of coffee pictured above.) I discovered some things that I didn't expect to be able to find anywhere - like French desserts!

They had macarons! I've had a macaron infatuation for the last few months, since I found a box on clearance in a grocery store freezer and found them to be amazing. They are soft and crispy and chewy and sweet and magnificent. My wanderings on the internet tell me that they are very fancy and quite rare. It seems that you can get them at upscale stores in large cities, and people become all snobby and insist that only the very best ones are any good. It looks like there is one place here that sells them, but it's really far away from me so I haven't made it over there yet. (Unfortunately the grocery store where I first found them doesn't carry them anymore.) I was astounded to find them at the Farmer's Market! (There were actually two booths there selling macarons.) "This is my dream come true," I told Mom with my mouth agape, and I introduced her to the delight. Someone told us that these are the new cupcakes - the new overpriced rage. I liked them before I knew that. However, I think that part of my infatuation may be related to the fact that they were a novelty - something I couldn't get whenever I wanted. I also think I may have preferred the cheap frozen variety. Still, though, this was very exciting for me.

At the Farmer's Market, I also found madeleines. I have been wanting to try these since I read about Proust and how they feature in one of the scenes in his novels. They are like a pound cake in a shell shape (and somehow pound cake tastes better like that than it does in a slice), dense yet fluffy, with a hint of lemon. They carried an air of simplicity, and in that way they reminded me of creme brulee. As I ate them, I sat quietly and practiced mindfulness.

I sound like a frog.

I have been sick this week with the most bizarre "cold" I've ever had. I've had one constant symptom: a strained voice, bordering on no voice. That's the first problem that appeared, along with the necessity of daily three hour naps. The first night I woke up constantly because swallowing was such a struggle. Then I had a day where my lower back hurt and all my skin felt over-sensitive - I couldn't get used to wearing clothes. Then the next day my neck was all stiff and painful and I said my head must be too heavy. That's around when I started coughing (not earlier, which I found strange). Now this morning I woke up with an eye infection. The only eye infections I've ever had have been when I've had bad colds, and I wonder if they're related - like the cold is going up into my eye? As well as this strange array of symptoms, I am surprised by symptoms I don't have. I've only sneezed once, and my nose isn't running or stuffed up. Anyway, the good thing is that one weird symptom tends to leave when the next one comes (except for the voice problem), but I wonder what my problem will be tomorrow!

Baby Blanket

Someone at work asked me to make a blanket for her daughter, providing me with the materials and an example, and thereby introduced me to a new style of baby blanket! It was so easy: you take two pieces of fleece of the same size, cut "tassles" all around the edge (I made them about four inches long and the width of a ruler), and then you tie the tassles together, top with bottom. No sewing necessary! It was really easy, and it turned out pretty cute.

Peaceful

This was the view when I got to work this morning. Between the sun beginning to rise on the horizon and the foreground of houses lay a blanket of clouds. The radio called it fog, which I guess is an accurate description when you're in the middle of a cloud, but looking at it from above I could see the ripples. It was like a dream world.

I had a bad weekend.

Chocolate Peanut Butter

It's a tragedy! It's terrible! It's just about the end of the world!


I ran out of chocolate peanut butter.

"What?" You ask. "What are you talking about? I've never even heard of this 'chocolate peanut butter' before! And really, is it that big of a deal?"

There are several reasons why this is a big deal to me:
1) I am being facetious. There are greater tragedies.
2) It's really good.
3) I can't find it anymore.

Kraft "Peanut Butter with Chocolate" spread on apple slices is the best snack ever. Ever. So good. It's more exciting than plain old peanut butter, even though it's not super chocolate-y. I guess that in theory it's kind of like Nutella, but I much prefer this. It's... more solid. None of that weird taste I notice in Nutella. More comforting. Nor does it have that strong salty taste of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. It's mellow, and happiness-inducing.

I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. It seems that no one has. (When I search Google Images it only comes up with 2 pictures of peanut-butter-with-chocolate on the whole Google-search-able internet, and both are on obscure Japanese blogs.) Additonally, I haven't seen it in stores in years - so many years that my jar actually expired several years ago. (But it's still good!) I couldn't get rid of it without being able to replace it. But now, alas, the jar is empty. And so is my cupboard, my stomach, and my heart.

I'll miss you, chocolate peanut butter. Eating apples just won't be the same.

Banana Ketchup

The other day we were walking through Sobey's, and we came across banana ketchup!! We went back to buy it today, and it was fantastic.

I guess (according to Wikipedia) that banana ketchup found its debut in the Philippines during WWII when there was a shortage of tomatoes to make regular ketchup. It also seems to be popular in St. Lucia, which is where the stuff I found came from (it's actually a product of St. Lucia - I've never seen anything imported from there before!).

We tried it today as a condiment for our yam fries and chicken fingers. It has a background sort of flavour, like many condiments. It tasted a little vinegar-y and a little sweet and a little ketchup-y. I found it definitely worth trying (although that may be because of the novelty of it more than its intrinsic amazingness).

What's the problem?

The problem is...
...that Katie's grandfather died.
...that Katie's really upset about it.
...that my head was in work fog and I didn't feel like a very available friend to her when I saw her today.
...that Patrick flew in to attend the funeral with her.
...that she told him he didn't have to, but he said that's what a relationship is - it's supporting each other.
...that my grandfather died a few months ago.
...that I wasn't really upset about it.
...that Justin didn't attend the funeral with me.
...that if he did come, it would have caused some hassle (Oma's house was already over-full; I would have constantly had to wonder if he was bored.)
...that I really didn't need him to come; I was okay.
...that Bridget came along with Dad.
...that I wonder if this is a cultural norm, whether I and my relationship are aberrant, and whether that is okay because that's what works for us or if is an indication that we are just fooling ourselves.
...that Patrick is fantastically generous, has so much to give, and is very emotionally available, while Justin is quieter, simpler, and suits me better.
...that I probably could have had Patrick if I really wanted to (and if I was a different person with a different range of experiences), and that there are important reasons why we are not together (one being that I never wanted to be in a relationship with him).
...that it's easy to see the good things other people have, and to feel lacking in the comparison.
...that different things suit different people, that what is great for one person doesn't work for another, and that all is contextual; that every relationship is and needs to be diffrent.
...that it's so hard to know whether that's actually true or if that's just what I tell myself.
...that I am not very good at letting people be there for me.
...that I feel that it is important for me to remain self-contained and not expect significant help for my problems from other people.
...that too much pitying concern saps my strength and makes me unhealthy; that I'm better when I can stand on my own.
...that Patrick defines a relationship as supporting each other, but I don't know how to receive support.

What's the problem? The problem is comparisons, and that I'm not very good at being a person.

Yes Candide

Brief plot summary: Candide is raised in his uncle's castle, and falls in love with his cousin Cundegonde. Unfortunately, he gets caught kissing her and expelled. In the outside world he faces a harsh reality: war, shipwreck, earthquake, the Inquisition, murder, the loss of friends and mentors, and in the end, boredom. His luck turns around at times: he is briefly taken in by a kind Anabaptist, he hopes to reunite with his love Cunegonde, he discovers other friends he thought were dead, he finds the magical world of El Dorado, and he becomes wealthy. However, over the course of the story, the hardships outweigh the joys, and Candide becomes disillusioned.

I recently finished reading Candide (Subtitled Optimism) by Voltaire. I felt pretty smart to be reading such a distinguished author (whose house and tomb I have actually seen, although it didn't matter all that much to me at the time), and Candide was surprisingly readable. It's a satire exploring the Enlightenment idea that this is the best of all possible worlds, told through the story of a boy named Candide who grows up being taught this worldview, but then has it threatened by experience with the world.

The introduction describes the Optimism mocked by Candide as a philosophical position claiming that "in spite of errors and appearances God's creation is as good as it could be," (xi) and "that all that is and happens is for the best." (xii) The endnotes continue, "This world is the best possible world, because God, being all-wise, must know all possible worlds, being all-powerful, must be able to create whatever he chooses, and being all-good, must choose the best." (122) This is the philosophy of Leibniz, represented in the story by Candide's professor Pangloss. It involves a priori reasoning ("arguments from logic rather than experience" [128]) that reminds me of the belief that the earth is the center of the universe: because of who God is and who we are, things must be a certain way; never mind checking to see if the evidence supports such a theory.
Such a philosophy also leads to a belief in cause and effect: everything has contributed to the best of all possible worlds and each contribution is therefore necessary for the perfect conclusion. Pangloss explains, "Things cannot be other than they are: for, since everything is made to serve an end, everything is necessary for the best of ends." (4) Hence, fatalism.

Candide seems to discuss "the world" not just in the sense of the earth and universe, but the book also considers personal worlds, in an arrogant sense: my existence is the best possible existence, my castle is better than anyone else's, et cetera. However, most characters tell "worst of all possible worlds" stories as they elaborate upon their woes. While these tales could reinforce in Candide the idea that despite his hardships his existence was quite privileged, they instead have the opposite effect: Candide becomes discouraged in company with the others who suffer.

An alternative philosophy to Optimism is illustrated in the last half of the book by Candide's companion Martin. Martin's difficult life has led him to not expect good things. Late in the novel, when everyone else is miserable, we are told that "as for Martin, he was firmly persuaded that people are equally miserable wherever they are; he took things as they came." His low expectations for life made him more satisfied than anyone else with unavoidable harsh circumstances. This seems like a pretty good idea to me, but I'm not sure what Voltaire really thinks of it. Later Martin's outlook is referred to as "detestable principles." (91) That's the tricky thing about satires - I'm never sure if this time the author is being serious.

Despite all the suffering it describes, the book has a decidedly cheerful tone. Hardships are described in a matter-of-fact and off-hand way, and stories are told euphemistically. For instance, in punishment for appearing to desert from the army he is conscripted into, Candide is given the choice of running the gauntlet or being shot in the head. He reluctantly chooses the first option, but "as they were lining up for the third run, Candide, who could take no more, politely asked if they would instead be so kind as to cave his head in." (7) For this reason, I have a hard time seeing the characters of Candide as real human people. It seems to me like a cartoon. Of course, I am also swayed by the fantastic cartoon cover of my edition of the book.

There were a couple of lines in Candide that really caught my attention:
- "Stones were formed to be hewn and made into castles, hence his Lordship's beautiful castle." (4) Following Pangloss's explanation of how noses were made to wear glasses and legs were made for pants, this sentence carries the unfortunate idea that everything exists for human consumption and the earth is ours to abuse. I'm sure stones were made for more general reasons than the construction of castles.
- "It is the price we pay for the sugar you eat in Europe." (52) This sentence is spoken to Candide by a slave in South America, who has lost a hand and a leg as punishment for various infractions. It is as powerful to me outside of its context as in it, and it reminds me of my social justice-minded friends.

For nearly the entire story Candide pines after Cundegonde. Over and over he finds her and they become separated again, and the hope of reuniting with her permanently is what fuels his optimism. At the end of the story, he does find and ransom her, but by this time she has become ugly and mean. He no longer wants to marry her, but he does so anyway out of duty and spite. His dream didn't align with reality, and now that it has become reality it is akin to a nightmare. The things that we hope for so often don't turn out to be as good as we expect.

Candide and his friends seem reasonably happy at the end of the story (the very end of the story, not the almost-end), when they devote themselves to simple work. However, I can't decide if they're actually happy. Candide is not as deliriously happy as he expected to be, but neither is he as miserable as he is at the near-end of the story when he has a hard time deciding whether his current boredom is perhaps worse than all the other malfortunes he and his friends have faced. When Pangloss starts spouting his philosophy about how all their hardships were necessary for the agreeable place they ended up (and eating candied citron and pistachios does sound pretty good), Candide responds, "that is well said..." (94) He doesn't deny or challenge the claim that they are satisfactorily happy. (Then again, he never seems to directly argue with Pangloss.) However, by his affirmation Candide may intend to say "I hear you," more than "I completely agree," as he goes on to say, "but we must cultivate our garden." I think he has accustomed himself to a quieter sort of happiness. He may not consider it the best possible existence, but he is satisfied that neither is it the worst. Being relatively free from pain leaves him relatively happy.

I found the philosophical exploration in Candide interesting, but it did not relate directly to my life because I myself do not spend much time wondering about whether or not this is the best of all possible worlds. Personally, I found greater value in the book as a story of Candide growing up (Wikipedia considers Candide to be a classic bildungsroman) and of what happens to the beliefs that he is raised with as they come into conflict with the realities of the world. At the beginning, he is thoroughly convinced of the teaching he receives that this is the best possible world. As he faces hardships, he goes through various stages of doubt: he continues to interpret his new experience in light of his learned philosophy; he wonders what other existences must be like if his is the best and yet so miserable; he wishes his professor were present to explain how his new experiences fit within the philosophy; he imagines he might begin to argue against the philosophy were his professor available; he is swayed by good luck to believe it again; he acknowledges his previous circumstances were greatly lacking but believes that perfect existence had to exist somewhere; he claims he is giving up on Optimism altogether; in good circumstances he still finds himself believing it by default; and then it gradually slips away from him. He goes through a phase of bitter loss, but ends up with a peaceful compromise, believing that his existence is relatively agreeable and that is enough. Loss of belief is not a smooth, straightforward path; it oscillates between doubt and faith, like a pendulum that eventually achieves balance.

Ordinary

I read a review of an author the other day that criticized him for stating what is obvious. But personally, I don't see that as a problem. It seems to me that acknowledging what is usually just assumed is rather valuable, akin to noticing the ordinary. What is obvious to one person is not so to others (I generally find the term "obvious" quite insulting), and mentioning what is basic ensures that everyone is on the same page. Because we are surrounded by small, commonplace factors so often, we begin to take them for granted as we look past them for what is novel. They become hard to notice and identify; they blend into the background. This is a shame. Our small, ordinary habits create the fabric and substance of our lives, and articulating these matters helps us to see our lives more clearly. I want that to be an aspect of my blog: not merely sharing news and thoughts, but illustrating the ordinary. (Unfortunately, those are often the posts I forget to write because there is nothing pressing about them.)

Critique: I intermingle a discussion here about two related but separate matters: stating the obvious and noticing the ordinary. One is a matter of public expression, the other one of personal attentiveness. When I read of one I thought of the other, and they are two boards in the same treehouse, but they can't be used interchangeably.
That's the thing about writing: it has a will of its own, and although I can shape it, it offers some resistance. Sentences progressively lead from one emphasis to another before I've finished my thoughts, while some things just don't seem to fit anywhere.

Choosing a Book

It's a delightful feeling, choosing a new book to read after finishing a previous one. I never plan my reading list in advance because I would find it oppressive and get demotivated. As a result, I am often faced with the pleasant choice of what to read now.

Do I want to read something easy, or challenging? Something new, or something I read once long ago, or maybe an old favorite I've read over and over. Should I continue with a series or take a break? Continue in the same genre or mood, or go for something completely different? Which books have I received as gifts and should thus read promptly so as to not offend the giver?

I put all these questions in the Magic Book Chooser Machine, pull the lever, and my hand reaches for Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery.

Reciprocal

Life is a give and take. We aspire to be unselfish, but I can't give unless someone else is willing to take my gift. Similarily, by receiving something graciously, I am allowing the other person the opportunity to give, which is a gift in itself. Generosity requires a recipient, and receiving is as important as giving.

I hate it when I offer someone something ("Can I pick you up anything at Starbucks?") and they decline. I really want to be nice! But I can't if they won't let me. So I try to say yes when someone offers me something. If they didn't want me to accept, they wouldn't offer.

My friendships should be a place where my friends feel cared for and have an opportunity to express their interests, thoughts and feelings - and also a place where they have the opportunity to extend those things to me.

The necessity of both: "Which is more important, breathing in or breathing out?"

Happy New Year!

Goals for 2010:
- read Anne of Green Gables
- read The Lord of the Rings
- change the pictures in the frames in the hall-square
- write Christmas thank you cards
- write five letters
- publish the first year of my blog
- clean out the fridge and cupboards
- cook 12 recipes out of one cookbook, possibly Company's Coming's Table for Two