Molly Butler Reads

Great Expectations

2012-02-02T09:30:00.000-08:00

I hope everyone has a book that they love to re-read. My son and I have begun to explore the world of Narnia together and even though he likes it, it is so much more mesmerizing for me than it is for him. I distinctly remember the first time I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. The feeling I had as I crested the final pages: that I was so sad this story was over. It was the beginning of a life-long love affair with reading.

I read Great Expectations every year in the late fall--a time permeated by cold and drizzle, just as I imagine it must feel on those moors in England when Pip first encounters that blasted convict. Though, to be fair, it does seem that the cold and drizzle permeate most of Pip's days, regardless of his age and socio-economic status. You know what's even better than re-reading a book you love? Re-reading it along with people who are reading it for the first time. Just as I love my son trying to figure out what Mr. Tumnus looks like, or why he is wearing pants and no shirt, I love it when my students declare their loyalty to Pip despite the fact that he continually makes bad decisions. Now, I realize not everyone has the opportunity to experience this joy as frequently as I do, it being a somewhat vital aspect of my job, but it is a lovely thing.

As we speak, my AP Lit students are taking their semester final exam. We have spent the past five months reading novels, plays, poems, essays, short stories and more. We have analyzed and read closely and made inferences and deciphered theme and talked about tone and become masters at describing an author's diction. I'm so proud of them. They are ready for this test--one that is by no means "a breeze". Unlike Pip, their expectations are based on hard work and determination; they have thoughtfully considered where to place their goals and continually measure to see whether they are making progress. We love Pip because we know he has the potential to want the right things; we can see in him a fallibility that is in us all and we long for him to right his course, to justify our 490-page journey through the rain and mud and redeem himself. Isn't that what we are all doing anyway? Pushing through the muck and mire on a metaphorical search for our own daily redemption? Revising our expectations as we go?

While Pip's expectations come from an outside (and secret) source, my students' expectations come from within. Sure, I may have to remind them what they are from time to time, but true growth only happens when expectations are internalized. And we are growing like weeds over here.

Life is a Story

2011-06-02T07:38:00.000-07:00

It's been some time since I've blogged about my many and varied literary adventures. Be sure that I haven't stopped reading--it's just that I've been reading so much in an effort to keep up with these people that I've lost the will to live. I mean write. However, as a post-test treat, we've been reading Life of Pi and the intentionally ambiguous ending(s) got us thinking about (and, in the case of my AP students, writing a 5-page paper about) 'what makes a good story?'

I absolutely love Life of Pi. And it didn't hurt my ego one bit to be validated by comments from my students such as "This is my new favorite book!" and "I could not stop reading," and "I'm so frustrated with the ending!@#!" After much deliberation, the general consensus is that this is a 'good story'.

I think a good story has a number of functions--all of which involve action on the part of the reader. The list (as I see it):

#1 A good story causes you to question your beliefs. One of Pi's most endearing characteristics is that he never stops questioning the world around him. Why do I think this? How do I know this? Why would I do that? And the best part about it is that his beliefs are solidified as a result of his questioning. He doesn't question in an effort to disprove his beliefs, he does so to strengthen them. Can any of us really accept holding onto a belief that can't stand up to our own internal questioning? Isn't that just...brainwashing? David Ebershoff's historical novel The 19th Wife (which I just read for my book club) is the fascinating tale of Ann Eliza Young, Brigham Young's 19th wife, and her internal and external struggles with polygamy. She is eventually unable to reconcile her belief in Joseph Smith's vision to the crude and oppressive practice of plural wifery and escapes Utah to help chart the path towards legal justification for the abolishment of this type of slavery in America. As I read, though, I was forced to confront my own faith and beliefs in comparison to what I consider to be the illogical and manipulative tactics of Mormonism. Like Pi, my own questioning functioned to further strengthen that which I hold to be true.

#2 A good story transplants you in another world. It is a well-known fact that I love Harry Potter. I'm not afraid to admit it and I was recently "roasted" concerning this apparent obsession of mine in an all-school assembly. Which only serves to make me happy and not embarrassed. Why is HP the shelf that literary genius will be reaching for and not quite touching for the foreseeable future? It is simple. Because Rowling created a world no one can resist. That doesn't mean that there aren't other amazingly well-written and life-changing tomes being published and cherished on a regular basis. It doesn't mean that there aren't thousands or even millions of pages of prose dedicated to creating new worlds in our minds. But Harry Potter is literally magical. And Rowling makes her readers long for it to be real. She pulls the Hogwarts Express right up to your door and hollers at you to get on before it's too late. And, of course, you do.

#3 A good story engages you in problem solving. Have you read the Dragon Tattoo books? I'm about half-way through the third book and despite the cacophony of similar looking Swedish names they can really draw you into the action. Another recent read of mine, Karen Russell's Swamplandia!, is a tale so simultaneously tall and probable that I found myself teetering on the fence deciding if it was fantasy or not. It's the story of Ava Bigtree, the youngest in a familial line of lady alligator wrestlers and her journey to save her sister from a bad marriage to a ghost. All the while trying to save the family theme park. Every problem lays out an array of possible solutions--some concrete and others vague--begging the reader to help in deciphering the clues and putting the mystery to rest.

My job is many things--most of which I love--and I will tell you honestly that nary a day goes by that I do not come home with a good story.

Franken-Don

2010-11-10T05:37:00.000-08:00

It was a dark and stormy season for Don Draper. And then he lived happily ever after.

The season finale of 'Mad Men' this year just so happened to coincide with my AP classes reading Frankenstein. All that discussion about the moral implications of the human decision to create another being got me thinking about my favorite hard-working ad-man and pieced-together ticking time bomb Don Draper. Seems Don could learn a lesson from good old Vic Frankenstein about what happens when one plays God.

Mary Shelley's 1818 novel was intended to be a science-fiction thrill ride about a mad scientist who creates a super-human from a conglomeration of dead body parts. Read now, in an age of scientific record breaking, the discussion centers more around the consequences of the act as opposed to the probability of the action. This being said, most would agree that Victor was wrong to think he could mess with humanity and not suffer because of it. We might say the same for Don.

Don is, in his own way, a combination of both creature and creator. As the creator he is able to reinvent himself time and again, trouble-shooting possible blemishes of his previous doppelganger. But when Anna died we saw the creature come out--lonely and isolated without a soul in the world who really, truly knows him. She was his anchor--just knowing she was in the world, embracing Dick Whitman and all his mortality, was enough to keep him perpetually treading water, head bobbing at the surface. But then she dies and he starts to sink. Or maybe swim. Self reliant for possibly the first time, Don begins to reinvent himself again. Cutting out the alcohol and loose women, he crawls toward redemption in the eyes of the viewer. Is Faye the new Anna!?

Alas, no. The creator rises again. A fresh start with a new young thing is all this creature needs to get it right this time.

Somehow I think Don's conscience will eventually wear out and we will be forced watch him chase his mangled and vengeful self across the Arctic tundra.

Cathy + Heathcliff Forever

2010-10-06T05:52:00.000-07:00

Charlotte Bronte wrote: "Whether it is right or advisable to create beings like Heathcliff, I don't know. I scarcely think it is."

If you're not familiar with Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, allow me to sum it up for you:

1. Guy and girl are in love.

2. Guy is bad for girl due to his general monsterness.

3. Guy protects girl from himself by being mean to her and running away.

4. Girl goes with other guy out of desperation and isolation.

5. She is miserable. Spends lots of time in the rain contracting weather-induced diseases.

6. First guy comes back for her and she sees that his skin is sparkly in the sunlight.

7. He is too late.

8. She dies of a weather/child induced illness.

9. He vows to make everyone's life miserable for like, forever.

10. Done and done.

Let me tell you, those Brontes must have been a riot to live with. Unrequited love, dreams of death, crazy people abounding. No wonder it is Bella and Edward's favorite book...

The Flight of Summer

2010-08-24T08:39:00.000-07:00

We got home from vacation late last night and when I woke up this morning, School was waiting for me. Kind of like when my almost-4-year-old comes in in the middle of the night and stands as close as possible, silently waiting for me to wake up and soil myself. Her good morning message: "I know you and Summer have had a nice fling, but let's be honest, it's not serious and we are getting back together." She's a bossy little thing, but I love her. This post is dedicated to my sweet Summer, who treated me like a princess this year.

It was a great summer for reading and I feel satisfied reflecting on the literary places I've been over the past two months. The quick and dirty shortlist:

Homer and Langley by E.L. Doctorow

In March of 1947, emergency crews responded to a report of a strong odor coming from a brownstone on 5th Avenue and, upon arrival, were met with a wall of junk. Crews were forced to pull things out onto the sidewalk in order to get into the house. After breaking into an upstairs window and crawling over debris for two hours, one police officer discovered the body of the elderly Homer Collyer. His brother Langley was nowhere to be found. Police eventually removed 84 tons of rubbish and debris from the house, only to find, almost a month later, the body of Langley Collyer who had apparently been crawling through a tunnel to bring food to his blind and paralyzed brother when one of his contraptions fell on top of him and killed him. Homer is said to have died of starvation days later. This novel is E.L. Doctorow's fictionalized account of how they got to this point.

The Magician's Assistant by Ann Patchett

Sabine has been in love with Parcifal since she began working as his assistant 20 years before the start of this story. They eventually marry, Sabine knowing full well that Parcifal is gay and dying of AIDS. After his death, Sabine embarks upon a journey of discovering who Parcifal really was that leads her from her comfortable California mansion to a bitter and brutal mid-western winter. Here she learns that, just like any good magic show, there is always more to the magician than what you can see.

Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger
A ghost story and a love story about a twin who leaves her apartment across from Highgate Cemetery in London to her twin nieces whom she has not seen since infancy due to a falling-out with her sister. Elspeth haunts the strange girls while they develop relationships among her closest living friends both in the apartment above and the apartment below. Niffeneger is best known for The Time-Traveler's Wife, which I loved. Somehow this story was quite a bit weirder...

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
DO NOT tell my AP Lit. students that I read this book for the first time this summer. They are of the impression that I am a long-studied expert on this classic Russian tale. Do you know the story? The crime: murder. The punishment: six hundred pages of the guilty conscience of one Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov.

Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
I am a big fan of Anderson's powerful YA books (Speak, Catalyst, Twisted), but this one was really tough to finish. Inside the mind of an anorexic teenage girl, the reader truly sees the struggle caused by this disease. Scary. And so sad.

The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder by Rebecca Wells
I happened upon this book while browsing the shelves of the library and was so excited! I love Rebecca Wells, who wrote The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood series. She has a way of creating a setting that makes you want to move to a place, even if that place is the Louisiana bayou. She also writes strong and vibrant female characters the reader can't help but fall instantly in love with. This book rivaled Half-Broke Horses for page-turner of the summer as it is the alternately hilarious and heartbreaking story of Calla Lily Ponder as she grows up, leaves home, and discovers the world her mama would have wanted for her.

Now I'm off to make calendars, set up my classroom, copy my syllabi, and update my school website...

Horses and Heroines

2010-08-07T05:37:00.001-07:00

When I read The Glass Castle a few years back, I was sucked into a world so unbelievable and riveting I had to cancel all my goings-on and close myself into the bedroom until every last page was turned. And when I have that kind of connection to a piece of writing, to a story, it can sometimes make me reluctant to read other works by the same pen--for fear she can't possibly do that again and I wouldn't want to ruin her high literary standing in my internal critic's shop.

That being said, Half Broke Horses is brilliant. It's the life story of Lily Casey, Walls' maternal grandmother, told in first person the way only Walls can tell a life story: in short yet voluminous vignettes. Lily Casey was a woman not always dealt the best hand in life, but who always knew how to bluff her way to victory or to work her way out of a debt. She was fiercely ambitious, which often led to disappointment, but she always had a plan for what to do next. This is the kind of story you want to tell your daughter, whom you believe will be the first female president of the United States, to remind her that it's OK to want everything in this world.

I grew up with a fiercely strong and independent mother whose voracious belief that I would one day be the president was not to be extinguished. She also believed I would be a doctor and a lawyer; a teacher and a graphic designer; a famous artist and a famous writer. I'll never forget the Christmas of my 6th grade year. I was going through a phase where my dreams included Harvard Law School and my mom found a Harvard sweatshirt at the local department store. When I opened it Christmas morning she relayed the story of its purchase and the conversation she had with the clerk about her daughter who was going to be going to Harvard. "Wow! Congratulation, that is quite an accomplishment!" the clerk exclaimed, "What will she be studying?" "She thinks law," my mom replied, "but she may change her mind by the time she gets there."

This overwhelming belief that I was rocket-scientist material made me the dreamer I am today. It gave me confidence through adolescence and college--something a lot of women don't encounter until later and then, to some, it is fleeting. Even now, as a 31-year-old, there have been times I've overheard my mother boasting to another relative about some accomplishment of mine the way I might describe my own son's first steps or how he is surprisingly verbose for three. She is a great teacher of many things (hard work, follow-through, and weed-pulling to name a few), but the two most important lessons she has taught me in my life are how to believe in myself unwaveringly and how to believe in others the same.

Lily Casey was a believer and a dreamer. I like to think, if asked about the aspirations of her granddaughter she would have replied, "She will probably be one of the most profound memoirists of her time. That or the president of the United States."

"Anyone who thinks he's too small to make a difference has never been bit by a mosquito."--Lily Casey Smith

Help Yourself

2010-04-28T09:04:00.001-07:00

As an English major in college, my focus was American Literature--more specifically Early American Political Rhetoric. Plainly speaking, I studied the struggle to create and form an American Voice. It seems kind of dramatic now, 10 years removed from the world I was once submerged in--looking for America, but I was truly in love. The idea that social injustice was confronted head-on in this new land was fascinating to me. I found myself drawn to eras in which the oppressed would rise against opposing forces and make the world a different place. A better place. The Help catapulted me back into that college mindset, made me want to know more about this particular atrocity that took place in my America.

Kathryn Stockett, a white woman raised by a black maid in Jackson, Mississippi, wrote this story in an effort to seek absolution from the past sin of passivity. The novel follows two African American maids in the 1960s and the white women they work for. The white women who have fallen so neatly into the role of "master" to these black women who raised them and whom, in childhood, they had loved like mothers. It is also the story of Miss Skeeter, who I imagine is none other than Miss Kathryn Stockett herself, a young white woman and a charter member of the Jackson Junior League. Skeeter does what Stockett did not (in her youth) and begins to empathize with these maids and the injustices they face in the 1960s South. She wants to tell their story.

This is my book club pick for April and I am geared up for an array of Southern food tonight including fried chicken, cornbread and chocolate pie. I think I will wear an apron.

Oscar WOW

2010-04-08T09:20:00.000-07:00

This is the kind of book that you can just tell probably ripped the author up to write. Controlled his being to the very core of his soul. Like he tried to write a work of fiction but could not avoid brutal autobiographical practices.

Told in a vibrant mix of ingles y espanol, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao would be a dura read for anyone not in possession of a working knowledge of el idioma espanola. It is the sad and brilliant tale of Oscar and the Dominican-American generations that preceded his existence. It schooled me historically on the plague of evil dictatorship in the Dominican Republic over the past century and had me asking my dad (the words leaving my mouth as the realization of their idiocy hit me) what year the Dominican Republic became a self-governing territory of the United States (shame on me and my Spanish endorsement!/sorry Puertro Rico!).

The Carribean culture being steeped in the supersticious, the root of the story revolves around a family curse (or fuku) that just keeps coming back. A curse that affects Oscar, his beautiful sister Lola, their mother Beli, her parents (dead under the rule of Rafeal Trujillo, Evil Dictator), their relatives, various neighbors and boyfriends and possibly any family pets that may have, unluckily, been adopted into the curse. Set alternately in New Jersey and Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, the book employs a literary technique I love called "en media res"--Latin for "into the middle of affairs"--in which the story begins in the middle or at the climax, fills in details from the past, and resolves after having done so (side note: this technique is also one of the reasons I love the show Southland).

Years after the publication of The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver is said to have, in press conferences, responded to questions about the novel by saying, "I gave ten years of my life to that story and I no longer have anything to give." I imagine this must be what Junot Diaz feels about the story of Oscar. An immense sense of pride (very Latin) and a constant, suppressed terror at the thought of returning, his heart heavy with apologies, to the narrative.

*The black, white and red cover is most familiar to me and the one mass-marketed in the US, but I think this one is a better representation of the story:

Habitual Hobby Hobbit

2010-03-30T08:17:00.001-07:00

I've mentioned before (here) that one of my favorite hobbies is taking up new hobbies. With Spring Break coming up, I was bound to be on the hunt for something new to do and, alas, the inkling to pick up some knitting needles nestled it's way into my subconscious like a...

Anyway, I had just finished reading The Friday Night Knitting Club--a good story about women and craft--and they just made it seem so simple! So I checked out some books from the library, got myself some cheap needles and a skein of yarn from Walmart and embarked upon my soon-to-be new favorite hobby.

Seven hours and two blistered pointer fingers later I had successfully completed five two-inch scarves. Since I couldn't figure out what to do when I messed up, I kept starting over. I was pretty sure I was only a couple of years away from making this (my original inspiration)...

...when I decided to check on Etsy and see how much these suckers were going for. $12! I could buy this hat for $12 and I had just spent the equivilent of an entire work day making knitted scarves for mice! Plus, I could not do anything whilst knitting. I tried to knit during family movie night while the boys watched Wall-E, but I had to sit in an entirely auxillary room because I needed a virtual spotlight on my fingers.

Women who knit: I applaud you. It is a beautiful craft. But I am moving on...

Still Waiting After All These Years

2010-03-17T09:08:00.000-07:00

I've been sluggishly working through Fumiko Enchi's The Waiting Years (Japanese title: Onna zaka or 女坂) for a couple of weeks now in anticipation of tomorrow night's book club meeting. I love a Japanese translation as much as the next person, but...I am going to have to put some time in tonight to finish.

This novel--a glaring social critique about the lives of Japanese women--was first published in 1958 and won Enchi Japan's highest literary award. The story follows Tomo, the wife of a high-ranking and politically shameless government official, as she goes about the daily affairs expected of a woman in her social position. Things like scouring the country in search of the perfect concubine to bring home to her husband. All in a day's work, Tomo!

It is heart-wrenching and frustrating to read about Tomo's ultimate submission and her husband's hatred-inducing oppression of all women. I'm looking forward to the conversation we'll undoubtedly have tomorrow--a group of college-educated, working wives and mothers--about the self-deprecating Tomo. I don't see myself entering into a friendship with someone as pitiful as she is, but then, I suppose that's what literature does, right? Exposes us to things we would not normally choose to give the time of day. Stay tuned for a re-cap of the evening's festivities.

On the menu: sushi and man-bashing.

Persuasion

2010-02-19T09:00:00.000-08:00

I was persuaded, on Wednesday, to stay home with this:

Well, actually, I was mandated to do so on account of his above-average fever. But let's be honest, that is a persuasive little face.

Speaking of persuasion, I feel compelled to share a round of first attempts at persuading an authority figure, courtesy of my 9th grade honors students:

These might work on me:

K: Mom, please let me go to the movies. It will cost you nothing as I will find a ride and pay for the ticket. Also, when I return I will be rejuvenated and probably more productive as far as my chores are concerned.

C: Mom, letting me walk to school would save you gas money. Also, I will burn more energy which will make me calmer and more willing to eat your dinner.

A: Mom, I need a cell phone!! What if, one day, I get lost or in a bad situation (even though you always tell me not to do such a thing) and no one is around? I won't be able to call you or the police to come and save me.

B: Mom, can I go to the movies with friends? You won't have to worry about me for at least 2 hours and you can do whatever you want with that time. Plus, you won't have to make me dinner.

M: The best, most beautifulest, wonderful mom in the whole wide world belongs to me. I am a focused, hardworking girl for my age and I think I should be able to throw a bon fire party for my birthday with no parental figures attending. Remember, I am very responsible!

Driving-related hilarity:

S: Mom and Dad, can you guys stop yelling at me when I drive? It stresses me out and if you keep it up I'll crash or have a heart attack someday.

E: Hey mom, you should get me a car for my birthday! If I never get a car, then how can I go places in the life? Don't you want me to go places in life?

Extreme Sports:

J: Dad, I know you think he's too old, but honestly, he's a 4.0 student who goes to church twice every Sunday and Monday. And he already knows that I would never do anything extreme with anyone until I'm married.

My two favorites:

J: Mom, you should let me go to a musical theater camp over the summer because it will allow me to gain more experience in that field. It will also allow me to learn under different teachers and meet other people interested in this profession.

C: Dear Albus Dumbledore, Being arguable the best wizard of all time, you should be astute enough to recognize real magical talent when you see it. Therefore, I plead with you to accept me, being insanely un-mugglish and exceptionally magical, into you wonderful school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Juliet Always Dies

2010-02-08T12:11:00.000-08:00

I am supposedly editing Romeo and Juliet literary analysis rough drafts as we speak. But between the invalidity of "young love" and the submissive role of women in the play I am feeling a little forelorn myself. Somehow these papers reek with cynicism and I am starting to wonder: "Did I put these ideas in your head, or did you come up with this stuff on your own?" I mean, it's still a good story, right? We might have to spend a day talking about all the puppy dog and rainbow parts or something. Did I forget to mention the puppy dog parts?!?

While we are on the subject of star-crossedness, let me just briefly mention the season premiere of 'Lost'. I have very little of my own insight to lend, but have done quite a bit of reading up on what others think and it has sparked some things for me. Our beloved survivors are now operating in what the producers are calling a "flash sideways"--as I see it there are three possibilities: 1. Jughead was successful in resetting time therefore allowing Oceanic flight 815 to avoid crashing on the island; 2. it was not and the survivors have simply been catupulted into the future along with the chains that bind them to their island nemesis; or 3. Jughead was successful in the eyes of Destiny, catupulting our survivors into the future along with the chains that secure them to their star-crossed lover, The Island. Or it could be all of them. I'm not sure, but the point here is JULIET!

Juliet dies in the island "flash sideways" (there is no good way to make that singular--sideway?), but not before thinking (a thought extracted from her cold dead brain by resident ghost whisperer Miles Straume) "...it...worked...[cough]...[sputter]..." What the what?!? does that mean? I don't know, but here is how I bring things back around for you and whilst I do so please remember that everything matters. Don't be like my husband, who, upon my gasp at the title "Shut the Door. Have a Seat." appearing on screen to prelude the season three finale of Mad Men said, "The title does not always mean something huge." Really, it was like a cry for help which resulted in the pausing of the show so that I could deliver a thirty-minute lecture on allusion and the various literary implications of said title. The thesis of this lecture: Everything means something. Elizabeth Mitchell's character is not named Juliet because the writers thought it sounded pretty. She has been a straddler of fences in an ancient feud. She has gone behind her parental figure (Ben)'s back and fallen in love with someone from the other side (Jack. And then Sawyer.). She has tricked that evil temptress Fate. Thwarted her plan, if you will. But ultimately, the story always ends the same. Juliet dies. She has to. It is her destiny.

I think what comes from her death will be monumental in determining the outcome for our survivors. Will it be in vain, or will she serve as a sacrificial lamb on an alter to "peace of mind"?

RIP Juliet. I didn't really like you until you became a mechanic in the Dharma Initiative in 1977 and lived in a house with Sawyer. But I'm sad to see you go.

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

2010-01-29T07:59:00.000-08:00

I love contests. And until I accidentally subscribed to 'Marie Claire' magazine, I entered evey one I came across. Now, armed with a subscription I can't seem to get rid of, I am more cautious in this course. However, while conducting research on abc.com in preparation for Season 6 of 'Lost', a cookie popped up addressed to me personally: Lost fanatics! Enter Now to Win a Sneek Peak of Season 6! SO I entered and guess what? I won. Here is what they sent me:

A message in a bottle along with a Dharma flash drive on which was loaded a sneak peek of the Season 6 premiere. Awesome! I watched and learned and was very excited. Then I went to the ABC website and guess what was on their home page? The exact same video. Suddenly I did not feel so special. The flash drive is pretty cool, though:

And the message reads: "Nothing's Irreversible". Which I get, because that was the whole point of the bomb, right?

Tonight's the big night! I am so excited I might actually be able to stay up past 8:30, which has been my median bedtime of late. Look for my post-viewing run-down tomorrow (or the next day, if I'm being realistic about my ability to stay up until 11:00. Ugg. Why would anyone want to do that except in extreme circumstances?!?). Until then friends,

On being hungry...

2010-01-23T09:26:00.000-08:00

I revel in every opportunity to use the word "dystopian" so here goes: Ringing with allusions to '1984', 'A Brave New World' and 'The Most Dangerous Game' Suzanne Collins' 'The Hunger Games' blew me out of the water. It is the heart-wrenching story of Katniss, a sixteen-year-old girl desperately trying to survive in this near-future post-apocalyptic dystopian society known as Panem. After a series of dictator-induced catastrophes, what used to be known as the United States is now a mass of rubble divided by industrial potential into twelve districts. District 12 (home to our tragic heroine) is the coal mining district, and its inhabitants live in constant fear of death by starvation or execution for a crime they might unwittingly commit, seeing that the laws are vague and easily interpreted to match the will of the "Peacekeepers". And that is just the exposition.

Every year the Capitol puts on a competition aimed at "inspiring" the residents of the twelve district into submission. One girl and one boy tribute from each district are chosen lottery-style to participate in the Hunger Games--a fight to the death designed to leave one victor whose prize will be a year free from the harsh possibility of starvation for all of his or her district. Katniss is not actually chosen, but volunteers after her 12-yr-old sister's name is pulled from the hat. She finds herself alongside the baker's son, traveling to the Capitol, where their adventure will lead them into the depths of internal conflict, not to mention the fact that literally millions of people are trying to kill them.

This YA book is written at a 6th grade level--accessible for young readers but entertaining and a quick read for adults. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but, I think it will make a really great movie.

It feels weird to watch '24' and not be pregnant...

2010-01-21T08:50:00.000-08:00

It was bound to happen. After eight seasons of torture and high terror alerts, '24' writers are going green and starting to recycle brilliant plot details such as the cutting off of limbs in order to remove police tracking bracelets and suitcases holding bombs. You just can't waste that kind of stuff. It's fodder for telephiles everywhere.

In Season 2, James Badge Dale's character Chase cuts, strike that, CHOPS off his own hand to save he and Jack from a bomb about to go off in...dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk, seconds. Then, saddly, we never hear from the guy again. I can't even remember if he died. Probably of something crazy like a gunshot to the neck or a lab-manufactured tropical disease.

*Not afraid to cut off hands.

This season, Renee is back, only now she's not wearing a pant suit or spouting off FBI anti-torture protocols. She has had a psychiatric break-down due to the torture Jack made her participate in, and now she is totally unstable. Which leads her to accept the offer to go back into deep cover with the Russian mob and, because it hasn't been done in six seasons, chop, strike that, GRIND off a Russian thumb in an effort to remove its previous owner's house-arrest bracelet.
*Not afraid to cut off thumbs.

And...I'm back on with '24'.

Reading While Tired

2010-01-13T08:55:00.000-08:00

I have not felt inspired to write lately. Maybe because I am fatigued beyond belief. I don't know, I've heard it can sap your creative energy. Nevertheless, here you have a smattering of books I have read over the past month:

1. 'An Abundance of Katherines', by John Green. This book made the cut as one of our new additions to the Battle of the Books competition about to begin here at OHHS. I like it for teens for a few reasons: a. it is about being awesome at math, which you rarely see in literature aimed at young adults; b. it uses footnotes to explain certain words, phrases or historical references not necessarily pertinent to the plot of the story, but interesting nonetheless; c. there is a funny friend who has a great vocabulary. The story is that of Colin, a 17-yr-old child-prodigy who dreams of becoming a genius (the difference between the two is key to the development of the plot). By the time he graduates from high school, Colin just so happens to have dated nineteen girls named Katherine. Weird? Yes. But so is Colin. When K-19 breaks up with him before going to camp, he is devestated, love-lorn, and lonely. To cheer him up, his BFF Hassan takes him on a road trip and along the way Colin begins to develop a mathematical theorum about love, claiming that romantic relationships can be charted and graphed.

2. 'Flight', by Sherman Alexie. Sherman Alexie can be my boyfriend, if he wants. Lord knows I have spent enough time defending his honor to my work parents lately.* I read 'Flight' in a few hours on Christmas Eve, and maybe because of this and the fact that I read partly by the light of the Christmas tree, I found it to be ripe with Dickens-esque ghosts and visions. As per usual for Alexie, we find ourselves confronted with a hero who is himself extremely fragmented. In this case, he is fifteen, half-American Indian and half-Irish, a victim of the corrupt foster system, and beset with one of the worst cases of adolescent acne imaginable. Thus the self-esteem-boosting nickname "Zits" with which our young protagonist has been saddled. Zits is tired of the cruelty he has encountered in his life and eventually turns to violence. At the very moment he is about to commit an extreme act, he is somehow transported into the past and begins skipping around time, occupying the bodies of people who have been victims of and participants in horrific acts of violence. Through it all, Zits sees how he has had a role in the destruction of his own life and finds himself begging to be returned to the present, where he can boldly accept the judgement for the act he thinks has already occurred. Powerful take on redemption and grace. And, like I said, a few good nods at Scrooge.

3. 'The Last Song' by Nicholas Sparks. This was our book-club pick for January and reads like a Disney Channel Original movie. Which I enjoy, actually. But mostly when I can watch it while folding laundry and not as much when I have to read it. The movie is coming out soon too, I think, and features Hannah Montana. What did I like about it? The setting: North Carolina beach town and lots of nights spent looking at the stars while gaurding turtle eggs. You don't see that every day.

*For months I have, along with the support of some of my dear colleagues, been working on a book adoption for Alexie's The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. We have faced, for lack of better description, challenges. However, I see success on the horizon...

Love and Marriage

2010-01-07T08:29:00.000-08:00

I've spent the day discussing adolescent viewpoints on love and marriage, in a prelude to our beginning to read Romeo and Juliet tomorrow. The day has been full of wonderful, wonderful irony. The kind of stuff sitcoms are made of. Here is just a taste:

1. A student passionately shared his feelings that people can fall in love at any age and should be able to get married as young as they want. "It just depends on maturity, not a number," said he. And then his super-sized toy skateboard fell out of his pocket.

2. Another student said, "I definitely think children are the worst idea ever. They like, ruin marriage. At least that's what my dad said. But he stole my PS3, so I guess, what does he know?"*

3. A love-lorn young lady: "Well, you should be allowed to get married when you've got it all figured out..." Oh boy.

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

Illusions in the Night

2010-01-06T09:41:00.000-08:00

The New Year is upon me and I am exhausted! My three-year-old has, of late, become disenchanted by false perceptions of scary things in his bedroom. And, for some reason, his natural instinct in these moments of extreme fear, is to come into our bedroom. And turn on the light. It is not easy to be patient and kind with the child at 3:24 am when the overhead bulb is blazing daggers into my sunken eyeballs.

As I am learning with excruciating pain, false perceptions are not easy to break. I have, a few times lately, laid down with him until he has fallen asleep. Which is a terrible idea for the record, since I end up falling asleep myself. Then, when I wake up to move to my own bed, suddenly find myself unable to sleep at all. Which may be due to the nap I just took from 7:30-9:00 pm. The other night I read an entire autobiography by a woman who escaped a polygamous cult. And it wasn't all that well-written.

It makes me think about what false perceptions have defined me--those things I have operated under or have been owned by. What monsters (or in J's case, dinosaurs) live in my closet? Probably most of them have to do with body dis morphia and the base value of monetary goods. My value as a wife or mother, based on my engagement with my children or the fact that I work outside of the home. I'm more confident at 30 than I was at 25, or even 27 when James was born. I love my job, but feel pressured at times to make the absolute most of the time I have with my kids, be it evenings or weekends. I wonder what it is that I do to overcompensate for these insecurities...and how the illusion of "what it should be like" will look when I am 40.

Don't Be Jealous Because Your Book Club Isn't As Cool As Mine

2009-12-11T08:07:00.000-08:00

I realized something this week--blogs with no pictures? Boring! And my blog? No pictures! Eureka! Therefore I am on a quest to add a visual cog to my literary musings wheel. I really want to be a better photographer, so I took my camera to book club last night in an effort to photo journal the whole experience. Well, you know what they say about a room full of teachers: you'll be hardpressed NOT to learn something new and I ended up getting a photography lesson on the spot. These images come to you courtesy of my private tutorial with Ms. W (that's her with the book!).

Last month at our book club rendezvoux I was one of the only ones who had finished the book (shame on them!) so we just drank wine and talked about online dating and chronicled the various flaws of our significant others. This month we could have made a YouTube video on How to Maximize the Engagement of Your Book Club. It really was quite remarkable!

As a teacher of all things literary, I am constantly reminding my charges of the relationship between setting and mood. Setting and mood, setting and mood. It becomes a mantra of sorts. Attention to detail is everything and the setting at last night's meeting was perfect.

There were tie-ins with the food, the activities and the decor. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is set in New York City--which made this "Black" Pepper Cheese and "Sliced Big Apples" tray so endearing:

Oskar's adventure starts off with a blue vase (not unlike this one) in which hides a mysterious envelope with the word "Black" on it:

The centerpiece of the story is a key. The moral of the story is "never stop saying I Love You". These laminated key-shaped bookmarks brandishing the life motto "It is always necessary" are heart-warming:

The evening's events included eating a vegetarian meal (though not vegan--sorry Oskar), the sharing of pictures representing something significant to each of us (most of which had to do with love-- I think Oskar would be proud of that), and a discussion of "Things We Know About That We Wish We Didn't"--including, but not limited to all-men water parks in India, post-childbirth procedures, rooms at airports for unclaimed children, a plastic island in the ocean, and what happens to a dog's tail when it is stepped on too forcefully.

I also spent quite a bit of time trying to get a good picture of these glass Christmas trees. They are not related to the story, but are lovely nonetheless.

Though my photography skills may leave something to be desired, in the intellectual female conversation department, I'm doing OK.

The Boots Come Off...Reluctantly*

2009-12-04T08:13:00.000-08:00

I finished this book as we drove to my parents' for Thanksgiving last week. I had to use a flashlight to read the last 30 pages or so. When I finished, I looked out the window for a long while, pretending not to be crying until Rhett asked, "Why the face?"

I'll tell you what, I love a novel that tells parallel stories. In Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, we get the story of Oskar and his journey to find a lock which will accept his key. But we also get the story of Oskar's grandparents, how they met, married, and never fell in love. The Older Schells came from Dresden, Germany after their town was bombed during WWII. There are many mysteries involving this side/back story that do not completely unfold until the end of the book, so I will not go into detail. You will have to discover them for yourself.

Though this book made me very sad, it also made me laugh out loud numerous times. One of those times involves Oskar's pet Buckminster, whose moniker resembles a certain female body part that, when said aloud, can sound very shocking. It rhymes with wussy.

It is bold of me to say so, but I will: This is one of my favorite books

of

all

time.

*This is part deux of my review for ELaIC. For the first part, see below.

Hugo's Big Adventure

2009-12-04T07:55:00.000-08:00

The Invention of Hugo Cabret is a beautiful story told in both words and pictures that I read in a couple hours on Thanksgiving day. Hugo is a young boy who has lost his father (this seems to be a recurring motif in books I've read lately) in a tragic fire-related accident. Prior to his death, Hugo's father had been restoring an automaton--a mechanical man made from gears much like those of a clock--and now, Hugo has taken on his father's project. Automata are complicated machines and this particular man seems to be the most complicated and confounding one ever created. Through the course of the story, Hugo meets an old toy seller who also seems to have a mysterious connection to the automaton. The relationship that develops between this old man and this young boy is as complicated and wonderous as the machine itself. The images in the book are beautiful. It is worth picking up just to skim over the pictures:

Choose Your Own Theory of Craziness

2009-12-03T08:24:00.000-08:00

Groundhog's Day it is! The final season of 'Lost', in which all of the universe's biggest questions are answered and we leave feeling warm and fuzzy for the rest of our days, will indeed commence on February 2nd, 2010. That is Groundhog's Day folks. What could it possibly mean? Probably nothing, but then again, it could mean SO many things. Here are some ideas from Doc Jensen (who is more verbose and has done more background research than me):

"A. ABC and the Lost producers were totally going for a Groundhog Day resonance! The choice of date affirms Time Loop Theory: that the castaways have been participating in a cycle of events that's been repeating for who-knows-how-long. But did someone (Ben? Jacob? The Man In Black? One of the castaways?) finally break that loop by producing a meaningful deviation during the course of this last cycle dramatized by the past five seasons of Lost?

B. Actually, ABC and the producers were winking at ''Veja Diena,'' an annual Latvian festival also held on Feb. 2 honoring the god of wind. The significance: The castaways were blown through time via the Jughead and the cosmic gameplaying of gods Jacob and the Man In Black.

C. ''Veja Diena''? No way! Feb. 2 is a link to Yemaja, the ocean/fertility goddess of the Yoruba religion, who is celebrated in Brazil on Feb. 2. This makes total sense, because Rodrigo Santoro, the actor who played Paulo back in season three, is also from Brazil. See? Paulo really was massively important to the larger Lost saga!

D. The Feb. 2-Groundhog Day-Veja Diena-Yemaja connections really are just total coincidences — a rare exception to the larger rule that each episode of Lost is layered with hundreds of thousands of clues, references, and allusions. I mean, that's right, right? RIGHT?!"

What the what!?! and Why the face!?! These are crazy ideas that illustrate why Jensen is one of my favorite pop-culture experts. Any way you look at it, February 2nd could not come soon enough for me.

New Gems in Television

2009-12-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

You already know that I love TV. Now that 'Mad Men' is over and 'Lost' is so...far...away... I have more time to devote to other televised wonders. Here are some of my new favs (and one that is not new, but new to my favs). Allow me to tell you why I love them:

Glee:
So many reasons, where to start? Well, how about the fact that this show is loosely based on my husband's own high school experience. Finn=Rhett in so many ways. Not to mention the fact that this show might be single-handedly responsible for jumpstarting high school arts programs nation-wide. Take, for example, my school. We have had slim to no interest in the drama program since I started teaching here six years ago. Then, this fall, our choir director held auditions for a musical production and seventy (70!) kids tried out for a play with 17 roles. Holy why the face*. This show is taking the world, high schoolers and me by storm. I love, love, love it.

*See Modern Family entry below.

Modern Family:
Because Phil is a "cool dad" who knows all the hip adolescent lingo and text speak: "Lol is Laugh Out Loud; Wtf is Why the Face?" And because Jay's pre-teen stepson is a hybrid fencing-Columbian-gentleman who is trying to be 30. AND because, well, look at that baby with those creme puffs.

Parks and Recreation:
This show is so much funnier in its sophomore effort! All hail Aziz Ansari! He may be overly crass and abrasive on Twitter, but he slays me on P&R. My favorite Tom Haverford quote of the year to date: "On a scale of one to Chris Brown, how mad is he?" I tried to say it the other day to one of my co-workers and I accidentally said "On a scale of one to Chris Rock..." He was all, "Huh? Why the face?"

Flash Forward:
I'm actually not sure about this one. I want it to be good, because the cast is so great (Will Shakespeare/Joseph Fienes AND Charlie/The Hot Hobbit/Dominique Monaghan as a bad guy!). And in the pilot, I saw a billboard for Oceanic Airlines. But I'm not sure about the lifespan of this show, which would seemingly end on 04/29/10. And it is starting to come off as kind of cheesy (I'm a self-proclaimed cheese-o-meter). But I keep watching because I secretly hope that DM is actually Charlie and that maybe, just maybe, out of the shadows might step Benjamin Linus.

In a rare twist, I have been reading so much lately that I haven't had time to watch TV and need to do some catch-up. Luckily the weekends come quickly when your job is as hilarious and your kids are as adorable as mine.

Question Me Not

2009-11-25T12:35:00.000-08:00

This post is an extention of my previous post. Here are some questions I have been asked today:

Is the old guy's disability that his leg is broken? Is he blind? Is being old a disability?

Can we make Indian headresses? Can we make those turkeys where you trace your hand and glue feathers on? Can I take a nap?

Do you know any gang signs? Does this look like B-L-O-O-D?

Do you want to hear a song I just wrote? Do you want to read my poetry?

Did you watch 'Family Guy' last night? Did you watch 'American Dad'? How about 'The Clevelands'?

Do you have a pencil? Do you have a different pencil? Do you have a different pencil sharpener?

Can I go to the bathroom? I know, I need to go again.

Thankful For Weekends

2009-11-25T08:08:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about being a teacher is getting to go away from it all for various increments of time. Such as three-day weekends. Or, in this case, four-day weekends. Now that might seem brusque, but this is an emotional job--dealing with kids every day whose frontal lobes are not yet fully developed, resulting in their making terrible decisions and ridiculous statements such as: "Why was Hoover Jackson responsible for the Great Depression?" Blurgh.

In honor of being away from it all, these are the things I will not do this weekend:

1. Talk about the new 'Twilight' movie.
2. Really, talk about vampires in general.
3. Explain why, actually, that is not a complete sentence.
4. Erase pictures of giant animated mushrooms from table surfaces.
5. Overuse hand-sanitizer.
6. Respond to non-sequiters. (Student:"What day does Christmas Break start?" Me: "George and Lennie don't get a Christmas Break.")
7. Make up crazy stories about my personal life. (I was gone yesterday because I am actually working on a new reality show. It is about cat whispering. I am going to be the Cat Whisperer.)
8. Explain what "pants rabbits" are or why Curley has that glove full of vaseline.

Looking forward to a weekend full of intelligent adult conversation and over-the-top sarcasm. And I am not going to worry about whether or not people get it.

The Heaviest Boots Ever

2009-11-23T08:31:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a story is just really, really hard to tell. Often, when this is the case, the story is also really, really hard to read. This is one of those stories. But it is also really, really lovely and wonderful to read as well. It is a conundrum of sorts.

I am in a book club with a group of incredibly loud and extremely close women who also happen to be remarkably intelligent and astonishingly interesting. This is the book we are reading in November and boy oh boy it is so very addicting. In the story, Oskar Schell (shell=a hard outer coating or structure) is a struggling through life as a survivor. His father was killed in the World Trade Center, something Oskar knows to be true, but still Oskar can't stop looking for his father everywhere he goes. He finds a key in an envelope labeled "Black", comes to the conclusion that the key must have something to do with a person whose name is Black, then proceeds to find and interview every person in New York with the last name Black.

Ahhh!!!#@$%*&^@ This book is so good and I am growing increasingly frustrated with my inability to locate time to finish it. My 2009 Top 10 list is going to be a doozy.

Who Reads That Much?

2009-11-20T17:16:00.000-08:00

I went to a Young Adult Literature conference this week and the presenter (a high school librarian who does this on the side) told us she reads roughly 400 books a year. Yes, you heard me correctly. That is crazy, right? Now, granted, she reads almost exclusively young adult lit., which means some of the things she reads you could finish in one sitting, but you would have to be able to if you were going to read more than one book a day! I read a lot, but not that much. At one point someone asked her about a movie and she commented on how she doesn't have time to watch TV or movies since she reads so much. This is where she and I parted ways on the Reading Express. I toted my books along to the sitcom car, where I can read during the commercials.

One thing I like to do is read local authors and debut novels. I found both in The Last Town on Earth, a novel by Thomas Mullen. The story takes place in 1918, in a small town called Commonwealth, just northeast of Everett, WA. Commonwealth is a self-sustaining mill town, and it's people are proud of what they have made there. When the Spanish flu breaks out in surrounding areas, the townsfolk are desperate for a strategy to keep it at bay and away from Commonwealth. They decide to set up a reverse quarantine. No one can enter the town and if one wants to leave, he'd better be prepared to stay away until the flu outbreak dies down. The men volunteer to stand guard on the road into town, determined to protect their families and friends. Not long after they start, a soldier wanders toward town, cold and starving, and begs for entry. The men refuse, the soldier persists, and the resulting scuffle ends with a dead soldier and a new plague on the men of Commonwealth.

This book was particularly interesting to read during an "outbreak" of the flu. Worried for the safety of my own children, I have learned to spot a cough or a headache from a distance and carry anti-bacterial hand-sanitizer in every satchel I own. I felt that, on some crazy level, I could relate to the characters' fear, even if I can't relate to their irrational behaviors. This book gave me an interesting historical perspective on a local area too, and I really liked that.

Words Abound

2009-11-20T14:46:00.001-08:00

I've been experimenting with wordle.net. Lots of fun, but difficult to manipulate. This is one I intend to share with my 9th graders currently reading Of Mice and Men. The whole exercise could potentially become addicting.

Some Favorite Firsts

2009-11-19T11:39:00.000-08:00

First impressions are important. They are often the glue by which we stick to something. At times they are Super Glue (the strength of which should not be underestimated) and other times they are the generic brand glue sticks that, upon removing the cap, you find empty.

What follows is a list of first lines (or two) from a sampling of some of my favorite books. To say that they ARE my favorite books would be wrong. Like when I tell James he is my favorite boy (something he loves to no end). I do not love him more than his brother. It is just that, simply put, he happens to be my favorite boy that I can see at that moment. So it is with these books. They, like the fruit of my womb, do not appear in any sort of ranked order. They just so happen to be books that I love that I can see at this moment.

1. "If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth."

2. "When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he’d reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him."

3. "My suffering left me sad and gloomy. Academic study and the steady, mindful practice of religion slowly brought me back to life."

4. "The library is cool and smells like carpet cleaner, although all I can see is marble."

5. "A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green."

6. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."

7. "My father’s name being Pirrip, and my christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip."

8. "It was 7 minutes after midnight. The dog was lying on the grass in the middle of the lawn in front of Mrs. Shears’s house."

9. "My brain was drowning in grease."

10. "When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow."

There is something special about seeing these lines out of the context of the story. They are both wholly representative and entirely wrong. Some of them I want to change, to say, "No, that's not how the story goes!" Others I want to cuddle like a baby (which, in case you were wondering, is the time when Griffin gets to hear about how HE is, indeed, my favorite boy). But they are what they are--an entrance to a strange and wonderful land where you just never know what will happen next.

An Answer Key (what's that? You didn't know this was a quiz?)
1. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
2. McCormac, The Road
3. Martel, Life of Pi
4. Niffenegger, The Time Traveler's Wife
5. Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men
6. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
7. Dickens, Great Expectations
8. Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nightime
9. Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
10. Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

The World Through Someone Else's Camera

2009-11-13T12:43:00.000-08:00

I wish I saw the world the way this woman does. I'm pretty sure she is the most incredible artist ever to have graced a camera with her lovely dainty fingers. It just so happens that she actually photographed our wedding (all those years ago!). I have been wanting to have her take some family photos of us for a while now, but I would have to plan about two years in advance to book her and to save up for the experience. I stumbled upon her blog again today and couldn't resist sharing it.

BEWARE! Before you click on the link, make sure you have enough time to get completely lost in the images. The entire experience with suck you in and leave you breathless.

You can learn a lot about a person...

2009-11-13T07:38:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I had to rush out of school quickly, due to an emergency call about my 9-month-old. He is fine, don't worry. But in my wake, a colleague stepped in to watch my class. Here is the note he left me:

Things I Learned in Your Class:
1. You love yourself some Harry Potter.
2. Gnomes are creepy.
3. Alfred Higgins is a thief (at least according to pg. 1--I didn't get past the 1st page).
4. I should have brought a laptop.

Looking at my desk now, I am surprised the list didn't go something like this:

1. You hide coupons for free Junior Frosties under your keyboard.
2. It doesn't seem to bother you that there are cords running amuck every which way. Some do not even seem to be going anywhere.
3. You have three water bottles and four used coffee mugs.
4. You write your name on pretty much everything that is not glued or nailed to the floor.

In my defense, Alfred Higgins is not the only thief out there. And I am planning on giving those coupons out to students who do good deeds. Someday.

Turning in my (expired) passport

2009-11-12T09:22:00.000-08:00

Ever since I finished reading The Poisonwood Bible last week, I can't stop feeling guilty for being American. All that beautiful prose and heart-slaying imagery has got me in a rut.

Turns out I bought the book almost ten years ago. I found the original reciept, keeping my place on page 36, with the purchase date of January 12, 2000. How do I know it was me that bought the book and not my mom (who, let's face it, still bought most things for me in the first year of the new millenium, regardless of the fact that I was 20)? Because the receipt was for one single item purchased from Costco. A paperback copy of The Poisonwood Bible. And what mother, let me ask you, goes to Costco and leaves with only one book? Huh? No mother, that's who.

And what, did I have better things to do that required me to put the book down after a meager 36 pages and not get back to it for 10 YEARS? Apparently. Maybe I was turned off by all the motherhood and whatnot. It's true that this book pricked me in a place that didn't exist ten years ago. Becoming a mother has changed me, you know. Given me emotions I did not previously have. Like the exasperation when my child refuses to do something I know is best for him (currently, that thing is pooping on the toilet. JUST DO IT ALREADY!). Or the pain I feel when my child is sick or hurting. Those are tough emotions to tap into when you don't have them. Not that you can't empathize with another person's pain unless you have children, but still.

TPB spans the lives of Orleanna Price and her four daughters. The Price girls travel to the Congo as children and leave (or don't) as much more. Their father is a Baptist preacher from Georgia on a mission to save the Dark Continent. At the expense of, well, anything really.

My favorite character in this story goes by the name of Brother Fowles. He is a former missionary who was kicked out of the Missionary League for too much "consorting with the natives". In other words, he fell in love with and married a local. He is only ever referred to for most of the story as the guy who "messed things up around here" and it is a well-known fact that Reverend Price is spending most of his time cleaning up the messes of Brother Fowles (which include a swearing and blaspheming parrot). Then one day Brother Fowles shows up in the village, having come along the river with his wife to deliver medication, food and vaccinations to people they pass by. Brother Fowles's perspective on "doing God's work" in the Congo stands out in stark contrast to Reverend Price's--whose primary goal is to dunk as many African children into the river as possible, a thought that terrifies the Africans on account of the many crocodile-related deaths that occur each year. It is Brother Fowles, I think, that changes the Price girls' feelings about Africa.

Needless to say, this book moved me.

There Goes the Unicorn's Horn

2009-11-09T08:41:00.000-08:00

SO, I started off with a whole character/theme analysis comparison between MM and The Glass Menagerie (hence the title, which stands) and then I realized something about "Shut the Door. Have a Seat.": everyone is getting a divorce! So I changed courses. Plus, the first one was getting kind of boring. Here's my breakdown:

Divorce #1: Don and Betty. (Don + Betty forever!)

I don't really want to talk about this one. The whole scene where Don was wearing that V-neck sweater and the kids were begging him not to go. Actual real tears came out of me. I have to say I am holding out hope for their reconciliation. I don't see how the narrative can survive if Don doesn't have Betty from whom to conceal his many mysterious secrets. But then, she already knows so much. Way more than I thought she ever would. It's like the facade of Don has faded and now he is a fuzzy Dick/Don hybrid (Dick when he's telling the kids he has to leave, Don when he concocts the crazy plan to steal Sterling Cooper, but more on that later). The Betty/Don split is devastating, no doubt, but it serves as a springboard into Inspiration Lake for Don, who, like always, is determined to rise from the ashes of tragedy. It's like he thought, "You want a divorce? Now wait a minute, that gives me an idea..." Which leads me to:

Divorce #2: Sterling Cooper and the British

If Sterling Cooper was Don's first love--the one he stumbled upon when he was young and ignorant--then Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce is going to be his hot second trophy wife. It's a relationship founded on sneaking around at night, stealing other people's stuff, and hiding out in a hotel room ordering room service. Everyone is frenzied, fresh, and coming up with fantastic ideas--I loved the part where Roger (who we see actually working for the first time ever) says, "I'm so tired!" Divorce looks good on Work Don.

True to MM, we see one aspect of the theme protrayed in a positive light, while the other aspect is destroying Don's/Betty's/Peggy's/Joan's life. Home Don (Dick?) is distraught, fumbling, stuttering and OUT OF WORDS. While Work Don (there he is!) is thriving, glowing, well-kempt and all shiny-toothed. Betty's emotions, however, seem static regardless of her surroundings: quiet and stoic at home, passive and subdued at the lawyer's office, silent and pensive on the train* to Reno...with an empty seat** between she and Henry Francis. My guess? That seat may look empty, but it is really stuffed full of a whole lot of extra baggage.

And I'm a bit confused about Bobby and Sally--are we to assume they are staying home with Carla while their mom goes to Reno for six weeks?! I suppose Betty is not really angling for any Mother of the Year awards.

* and ** OK, so I have just been schooled about a couple of things. 1. They are on a plane not a train. Duh! They are going to Reno! What was I thinking? And 2. They don't have a seat between them, they are in first class and they just have really big seats. But for the sake of arguing, let's just say they have a metaphorical seat between them on the train to Reno.

Poetry for Tiny People

2009-11-08T19:04:00.000-08:00

Finally, after three years, we are not bound (no pun intended!) to books made entirely of cardboard. We can read stories with pages made from paper, and boy howdy, do we ever. This is one I am particularly in love with. Polkabats and Octopus Slacks is a collection of 14 story-poems that are instantly endearing. Like when somebody makes really tasty tiny cookies and you eat like thirty because they are so good you just can't stop (plus, they're tiny!). Calef Brown is great at pairing word sounds made for out-loud recitation. Such as:

Fantastic plastic stretch elastic...

AND

...a sweet-smelling, soap-selling, tub dwelling guy and his one-legged duck named Alphonso...

AND

...a flapping flock of flying fury...

Trust me, it is fun for the whole family.

Woe to Poe

2009-10-30T08:57:00.000-07:00

"The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could; but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge."--Montresor, "The Cask of Amontillado"

Oh Poe, it's as if you are married to Halloween. A twisted kind of marriage; one where you can't quite figure out who is wearing the pants. Sometimes I think you crafted this holiday in an effort to promote the hauntings of your mind. Other times I see how All Hallows' Eve may have pushed you over the edge, inspiring you to use your post-high school vocabulary skills to give people nightmares. In this marriage, do you make each other better or do you make each other worse?

Americans love horror. We are obssessed with it. And Poe (who would be the first to tell you this) is the master of horror. He found ways of creating terror that the average guy just gets. In "The Cask of Amontillado", Montresor is motivated by an all-consuming sense of jealousy and rage. Not only does Fortunato have what Montresor once did and now does not, but he flaunts it openly, taunting Montresor every chance he gets. So, what does Montresor vow to do? Get revenge, of course. And what's more American than a good old-fashioned plot for revenge set in Parisian catacombs?

Explore the many woes of Poe here.

Jobfulness

2009-10-23T08:03:00.001-07:00

I'm a worker. I just love it. I love the feeling of being jarred into existence at 5:04, 5:13, and sometimes again at 5:29 am, scrounging under the couch in a desperate attempt to locate two matching toddler or baby-sized socks, and wondering how it could be possible that James does not have one single pair of clean pants. I love that, when I finally arrive at school, my students occasionally say, "We thought you were going to be gone today!" which I half-ignore while attempting to blot out the coffee stain on my freshly pressed white shirt.

Then the bell rings and I am on. My day is filled with the romance of literature: ideas, epiphanies, tragedies, allegories, parodies, comedies, and second chances. And the frustrations of technology that can't keep up, situations that have never before presented themselves, and, oh did I mention? TEENAGERS. And to boot, in the midst of it all, young minds ask questions like: "Are we allowed to wear wife-beaters here?" I laugh, cry, dance, sing, stutter, explicate, and lose my mind every day. It is not a boring job.

Sometimes, however, I fantasize about a different job. I find myself (usually at times, like now, when I am having a stand-off with a pile of ungraded Personal Narrative essays) searching CareerBuilder.com or Monster for something else. Something perfect. And usually I find it, but it is in New York City and requires seven years experience in publishing (which, technically, I have, btw). So I give it the test. The simple, simple, simple, simple test. The one I wish I could use to make all great decisions in my life. I ask, "Is it going to be hilarious?"

Because if it is not, then it is not as good as the job I have. For example, I just heard my BF across the hall say in a sing-song voice: "Please place your rough drafts on your desks. Lalalalala." Then a muffled response, and finally, from her: "Then I shun you."

And now I have the church giggles.

Thoughts on Traveling

2009-10-17T07:40:00.000-07:00

I have put off writing about this book for months. Mostly because it was one of those reads that so profoundly affected me it left me speechless. Cormac McCarthy is not a writer; he is a man who makes love to words. Yes, I said it. And I feel, lacking this natural ability to seduce letters and make them bow to me, fall at my feet, beg me to shape them into something great and beautiful and monumental and MORE than they are on their own, my words just can't measure up.

The best I can offer you is this excerpt I found on BookBrowse. I think then you will see what I'm talking about and understand why I wouldn't see this movie if you paid me whatever sum of money seems large to you:

"He woke before dawn and watched the gray day break. Slow and half opaque. He rose while the boy slept and pulled on his shoes and wrapped in his blanket he walked out through the trees. He descended into a gryke in the stone and there he crouched coughing and he coughed for a long time. Then he just knelt in the ashes. He raised his face to the paling day. Are you there? he whispered. Will I see you at the last? Have you a neck by which to throttle you? Have you a heart? Damn you eternally have you a soul? Oh God, he whispered. Oh God."

Teach Me, Why Don't You...

2009-10-14T12:59:00.000-07:00

I work with some brilliant people. Like sometimes I find myself waiting for the electricity to start flickering or the light bulbs to start spontaneously bursting brilliant. I believe that is what the Brits might call "bloody brilliant". But I think that may be a curse word, so let's move on.

Last week I took a page from a colleague's book and wrote my own idiosyncrasies essay. It was so much fun I challenged some of my colleagues to do the same. I charged them with an assignment, if you will. And, being the ardent lovers of school that they are, they came through. Here is a sampling of what I got back (names have been changed to protect myself from copyright infringement):

Professor McGonagall:
I will never eat a hotdog. Moreover, you will not find me eating anything stuffed into a casing. If my mother tries to show you a picture of me in a high-chair with a hot dog on the tray, cry “Fraud!” and don’t believe any subsequent tales of my adolescent endeavors.

You might find me sounding my barbaric yawp from the top of my desk wearing the latest fashions, leaping across rooms with my perfect jeté, tiptoeing around my kitchen so as not to disturb my prize-winning soufflé, or expertly solving Sunday’s crossword in a yellow taxi on my way to perform in the matinee show. Just don’t put me on a bike, in a luggage car or in a banana forest. If so, I might go all mimsy and slithy about your mome raths and you’d have to read about it all...

Professor Lockhart:
Growing up in harsh climate of these bitter, soul-crushing suburbs, the sweet milk of childhood soon curdled into the bitter cottage cheese of adolescence. Why couldn’t my fellow middle school students accept that I enjoyed wearing pantaloons and a cape?

And today, my life is like a sheet cake, made from sugar, unicorns, happy thoughts, and candy-colored rainbows. As I awoke this morning, and stood on my veranda, apostrophizing the dawn, I smiled inwardly at my dashing, idiosyncratic, and, dare I say, insouciant wittiness.

Professor Slughorn:
Born in L.A., raised in Electric City. And Pissed off about it until college. I wanted blond hair and a surf board. Instead I got a shotgun and friends wearing Wranglers. Half of my town was on a reservation which meant we had Native American Day once a year and suicides and drunk driving deaths year-round. Native American Day was a chance for native kids to celebrate their culture and a day off from school for the white kids. Wranglers and arrows and ne’er the two shall meet. Except for the occasional fistfight. The best thing I did in high school? Being Robert St. Pierre’s “favorite white boy.”

Professor Grubbly-Plank:
I love to go to the zoo and sit by myself and draw pictures of the animals. I love the pure beauty of their design. Sometimes I cry when I look at them because I am in awe of the artistry of evolution or God or aliens. Whatever force shaped life on this planet is miraculous.

My greatest lesson in life is that life can change in an instant. Sometimes it changes for the better. Sometimes it changes for the worse. It is what it is. What makes all the difference when these changes come? Family and friends. Surround yourself with friends and embrace their idiosyncrasies.

Professor Trelawny:
I always leave boxes in the cupboard even though I know that they are empty. I think it is because I was spoiled as a child.

Professor Sprout:
I was not an only child during my vicissitude of childhood – I had an older sister who was more than willing to trail blaze the abyss of mischief making and get in trouble first. She was, however, quite mean on occasion (as most older sisters are) and was prone to throwing forks at me – I’ve always thought my glorious naïve innocence was hard for her to abide. One hit me in the forehead – thank goodness it didn’t scar.

Professor Sinistra:
My lack of being able to see most of my childhood led me to have horrible hand-eye coordination. So, I was terrible at sports. I couldn’t hit a ball or catch one because I couldn’t see it flying at my head until it was a foot away. I became a runner.

Professor Flitwick:
My sneaking suspicion that I was a foundling was finally confirmed at the tender age of 11. My mother incorrectly referred to a faux lace tablecloth as white. It was the holidays. I was outraged. I adamantly insisted the covering was of a cream hue and impatiently demanded an explanation for her inability to make this simple distinction.

Madam Hooch:
I have a bilateral lisp; an unfortunate speech impediment that was diagnosed when I was 21 years old. I have not quite outgrown this condition; probably because I never quite finished therapy. There was something horribly uncomfortable and embarrassing about attending a group therapy lesson with a 60 year old thumb sucker and 7 year old mute. Two lessons sounded like progress to me. Ironically I love reading books out loud. I am now okay with admitting that I stutter after reading too many s-sounding words. Drew Barrymore has a bilateral lisp too.

Hats off to these fine folks. And a big thank you to the public school system.

A Dog's Life

2009-10-14T12:46:00.000-07:00

I didn't want to read this book because I knew the dog was going to die. He says so right up front. That he is waiting for death. I almost put it down, gave it back to its rightful owner, and went back to looking for secret Lost plot leaks on the internet. Tropical polar bears or not, I'm glad I didn't give up on this one.

This is the story of Denny, an up-and-coming race car driver, his wife Eve, and their daughter Zoe, told from the perspective of their beloved canine, Enzo. I'll admit that a lot of the racing references and metaphors got away from me at the start, but by the end I was right there in the passenger seat, yearning for that checkered flag.

As Enzo tells, Eve is sick. Very sick. Dying sick. And Denny suffers one gut-wrenching blow after the next as he watches his life fall apart. Nothing is stable, consistent. Nothing stays the same. Nothing is predictible. Nothing except Enzo.

It's funny how sometimes we forget how to take care of one another. Forget that life is not easily lined out for us, just one dot after the next. Who better than a dog to teach us that, should we neglect the small nuances of life, we run the risk of losing the race? The car goes where your eyes go. Don't focus on the road.

You should read this book.

An Idiosyncractic Affair

2009-10-06T12:14:00.000-07:00

My good friend Sinibloggi recently referenced a William and Mary admissions essay prompt which asks students to creatively introduce themselves through a stream-of-consciousness activity. The student responses were so entertaining I thought I would attempt one myself. Here you go:

It is not easy to sum up one’s cleverness with a glimpse at her quirks. However, I’m known to possess a fastidious adulation for the written or spoken word, so I’ll give it a try.

In an effort to avoid hyperbole, I will say that I have spent what equates to at least 3 months of my life dreaming myself into the lead role of a Broadway, community, or high school musical. I’m a self-taught master of tap, jazz, and ballet dancing. As a young girl I would hole up in my room for hours (under the guise of organization) while Mariah Carey hit the high notes and I rehearsed. No one has ever seen me (that I know of) perform these amazing feats of dance, but trust me, I’m pretty good. I may have fallen down a few times in the shower practicing, but they say the road to success is paved with small, slippery missteps.

Which brings me to another point: I often misquote clichés. But let’s not go down that gopher hole, we could be here all day. The writing’s on the board, but sometimes I can’t see the forest for the rodents.

I want to be healthy so badly! I want to be that woman who wears spandex pants like there’s no next week and eats yogurt for a snack. By choice, not necessity (like if yogurt were the only snack left on the planet). Alas, I hate yogurt. And I love candy. And TV. Need I say more?

I bite my fingernails and (I’m SO embarrassed admitting this) I pick my toenails when I read. Every night before I go to bed I pick out my clothes for the next day. If I don’t, I will be in a bad mood, never fail. You don’t want to be married to me on those days.

I have a bottle of lemon juice in my fridge that expired in 2007, yet I maintain that it is still good. Something about how acid defrays the effects of fermentation. It has moved with me to a new house twice. I used it just recently and haven’t gotten sick, so there. Stick that in your cup and drink it.

Once, in college, I bleached a large streak of hair that fell across my forehead. The bleach didn’t set long enough, I looked like a Bengal tiger, and have feared hair color ever since.

In my household, I fulfill the role of Chief Disciplinarian, Canine Division. This job includes monitoring furniture usage and human food distribution between toddlers/babies/husbands and german shepards. I am very strict. But sometimes, when no one is looking, I let the dog lick my ice cream bowl.

And typos—ugg! Don’t get me started. I hate them in a book or on a test my students took. I do not like them on a box. I want to erase them with my socks. I cannot stand them on a bus, not even whilst talking to a guy named Gus. I wish I knew a guy named Gus.

I take up and put down hobbies like it's always in style. Often I will produce one round of the desired product, then move on to another, more interesting task. These hobbies have included, but are not limited to: painting (this lasted the longest); sewing stockings (this one ended mid-course when I lost the stockings for two years, then picked back up when I found them last December); sewing baby blankets (one round); knitting cute children's hats (I threw myself whole-heartedly into this task, learning as much as I could via the internet, then never got around to buying yarn); and gardening (I'll be honest, I really haven't done more than think about this one).

I’ve birthed two children and run (part of) a half marathon, but still hold on to the moment when, in a conference, a college professor I was madly in love with told me he “envied my ability to write the end.” That may have been the proudest moment of my life. The one that takes the taco.

Roger, Copy That

2009-09-12T20:01:00.000-07:00

Today I entered into the sweet sanctum of success via a battle of wits between yours truly and a 300-lb. copy machine. It was close, and could possibly be subject to interpretation, but I'm calling it a win for me.

In an effort to get out of my house and escape at least 30 minutes of football fanfare (it's a fantasy!), I went to school to make some copies for Monday. Things started pretty much as they usually do--paper in, 2-sided, press the start button--but quickly took a turn for the worst when the copier said it had made six copies and I had yet to see any. This started a familiar dance we like to do where I find all the crumpled ones, turn all the levers, close all the doors, start over, repeat. We danced like this for a while before I inevitably gave up and wrote a witty note which I taped to the top of the clearly inoperable machine.

I walked down to the staff lounge (where I came across one lonely lemon bar left over from Friday's lunch treats--destiny, you ask? I like to think so), sat down for a minute (long enough to alleviate any long-term abandonment issues that lemon bar would have inevitably suffered from), and tried to decide whether I should go to a different building to make the copies. One more try, I thought, as I gathered any and everything that could possibly aid me in my quest toward mechanical-ism.

Armed with two forks, a plastic pair of tongs, and an extra-large paper clip, I returned to the scene of the accident. I pulled out all the drawers for at least the eighth time, and realized there was a section I had missed in my many cleanings. Right there, in a tiny corner of the machine, lay 8-20 pieces of accordion-crinkled paper. It was like a literary-analysis-themed Japanese fan shop in there. One where they set the fans on fire and dance around with them. Which is what I undoubtedly looked like as I attempted to remove them all from places in this copier where surely no human limb had gone before.

The end result? 150 beautifully copied Literary Analysis Workshop #1 packets. And I managed to employ each and every one of the tools I had gathered on my odyssey. Although, I will admit, they won't all be returning home to their loved ones...

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

2009-08-19T06:40:00.000-07:00

Because the boob tube feeds us constantly, like a parent generally unconcerned with her child's obesity, we feel obliged to view her as a societal outcast. But even this slovenly parent occasionally, albeit possibly unintentionally, puts something in front of us that is savory, succulent, and completely out of our price range. Mad Men is a seven-course meal at a five-star restaurant where you can't read the menu because it's in a different language, but you don't care because just holding it in your hands makes you feel ten times smarter and a million times more interesting.

In an attempt to be about ten steps behind the rest of the universe, we just finished watching MM Season 2 last night. As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but wonder: what will happen to Don Draper? Will he maintain a strong military offensive, or will he let down his guard and become yet another victim of a metaphorical nuclear holocaust?

One of my favorite aspects of this feat of televised literary genius is the steady thread of historical context woven throughout the story line. I love the use of actual news footage from the 1960s, especially the presidential addresses. The Season 2 finale gave the viewer a real-life look into the fear our nation experienced at the foot of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Kennedy "daring" the Russians to shoot; mass exodus from major metropolitan areas; women discussing the inevitability of the end of the world as they sat under the dryer at the beauty salon. The parallelism drawn between current world events and our unwilling epic hero Don Draper was nothing short of profound. Here's a guy who has, for reasons we still are not quite certain about, laid waste to his prior existence, built up an arsenal around himself in an effort to look strong and confident, yet daily lives with a paralyzing fear that it could all be destroyed in an instant. It's as if he's built himself a bomb shelter, crawled in, trembling, and is trying to carry it around Madison Avenue.

A similar note that cannot be ignored: upon typing "missile" into Google, I came across this site. Apparently you can buy your own authentic Cold War launch command center. Unbelievable, that Google.

Hanging Out With Harry, Again

2009-08-11T07:37:00.000-07:00

It is generally dissatisfying to see a familiar tale brought to life on the big screen. The magic of fiction reading lies in the creation of our own storyboards. Imagining what characters look and sound like. And how they say words or names. I always feel, no matter how great the previews make it look, like I am, in some way, betraying those weathered pages I so enjoyed turning.

I've seen four movies in the theater since the birth of my first child almost three years ago. It's true what they say: you really don't go to the movies. Maybe it's just that, on the monumental occasion that we actually get a babysitter, we feel the need to sit across a table from one another and have a conversation that doesn't revolve around the bodily functions of those other than ourselves, and/or is not intermittently interrupted by the stern use of the word "no". But every once in a while (well, four times in the last three years) a movie comes along that we feel we cannot possibly live without seeing projected 2000% in a room full of strangers. Such an event happened a couple weeks ago in the form of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Now you may or may not know that Harry occupies a throne of honor in the Hall of Fame of My Heart. I have eagerly anticipated all six of the film adaptations, only to walk out of the cinema each time with my head hung and feet dragging, clutching my own original and now wounded mental images to my chest.

That being said, once again I planned (and re-planned) our date to see #6. I arranged to hand off our kids to some very kind (yet generally unsuspecting when it comes to my 3-year-old) friends. I bought our favorite candy and switched all of my things over to my big movie theater purse. I put on make-up and counted down the minutes until Rhett would get home from work and we could get on with the inevitable imagination slaughtering.

And then, there we were: sitting in our tiny home-town theater as the opening scene flashed and the music began to swell; I, waiting for the disappointment to roll over me, clinging to my Milk Duds. And you know what? It never happened. As if, by some kind of magical means, I was able to appreciate the movie as a separate and wonderful narrative. It was exciting. It was funny. It was aesthetically amazing and audibly inspiring. Walking to the car, my arms were free to happily dangle at my sides.

Apparently it took me six films to let go and trust that Jo (as the Brits and I call her) would never let anything bad happen to Harry.

Mr. Pip Goes To the Tropics

2009-08-07T06:47:00.000-07:00

Imagine Charles Dickens and J.J. Abrams decided to collaborate on a project. Then, once they had gotten started, felt stuck and asked for help from the guy who wrote Hotel Rwanda. There, now you are ready to talk about this story.

The children of a small village on an ambiguous, tropical island somewhere in the Pacific are left without a teacher when rebel invasions drive away all but one of the "whites". The only one to stay behind is Mr. Watts, an eccentic recluse best known for pulling his sad, obese wife around in a wagon whilst wearing a clown nose. The kids call him "Popeye" and live with a healthy fear of his strangeness.

Then, one day, they show up to the dilapitated schoolhouse (knowing it will be empty, but hoping differently anyway) to find Mr. Watts wearing a suit and holding a book at the front of the class. He doesn't claim to have much to offer them, but gives them the only thing he feels he has; he begins to read to them from Great Expectations. And here, a group of children just trying to survive on a war-torn island, and a young boy from 18th-century London who is reaching out for more than birth has given him, begin a journey together.

Lloyd Jones' Mr. Pip is a gift reminding you that literature is powerful, that something known silmply as a "story"can actually change one's life. This book was just what I needed to steer me out of the Nora Roberts aisle and keep me looking for "the one".

For the Love of the Doughnut

2009-08-03T08:19:00.000-07:00

Rhett maintains that should a decent doughnut place or drive-in (dare I say the combination sounds irresistible?) be introduced to our little community, it would flourish. I maintain that we have the ability to financially back either a dozen of the doughnuts, or a single round of burgers. Not including the condiments. Alas, the dream remains in a box.

On a similarly-related train of thought, I came across this place yesterday while participating in one of my favorite summer activities: the watching of the television. All I can say is, "I want to go to there!" Also, if you are getting married anytime soon, don't rule out the possibility. Think about the pictures...

Rediscovering My Will To Blog

2009-08-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

It is exceedingly ironic, but summer has a tendency to turn me into a crazy, lazy, unproductive, non-creative, generally uninteresting blah. I am one of those people who thrives on routine. I don't sleep-in on Saturdays (well, no one with kids does, but I would choose not to); I can eat the same thing for lunch 180 days a year, then find myself at a deli counter with endless palatable ecstasies from which to choose and say, "I'll have a turkey sandwich on wheat with mustard, lettuce, and tomato. Please." I am not spontaneous in the least. I need to know what I'm doing when I finish doing what I'm currently doing, before I start doing it. Oh, and I'll need to know how much it will cost. Including tax.

It works for me, though. Somehow I find the time to fit in workouts, new recipes, laundry, etc. It is as if going to work in the morning actually makes me function. Don't get me wrong, I love being able to hang around in my pj's with my kids until lunch time. And we have been doing some great exploring of the island and all. What I'm trying to say is that I've been meaning to post about my summer reads for some time now, but have not been able to fit it into my busy schedule. Somewhere between researching the interesting lives of others via Facebook and becoming addicted to Hannah Montana, I have lost the will to blog.

Coming up: a look at my love-affair with Mr. Pip.

First Sunburn of the Summer

2009-06-29T14:45:00.000-07:00

Alas, I have been reading. However, the end of school seemed to approach this year with the tenacious vengeance of a rarely prodded mythical beast. Or maybe a two-and-a-half-year-old. Either way, the laundry list of literature I've consumed since last writing is unremarkable and nothing has really made me feel the need to report up to this point. But this afternoon (dare I say my first real day of Summer vacation?) I finished a lovely and noteworthy tale which will mark the beginning of my summer reading odyssey.

Stephanie Kallos' Broken For You chronicles the final years of Margaret Hughes' life as she seeks redemption for the sins her father (a Nazi sympathizer whose tremendous wealth was built upon priceless antiques stolen from the homes of interned Jewish residents during WWII) committed and a lifetime of guilt and shame associated with these sins. Margaret has locked herself in her grand old Seattle mansion (great local references in this one!) for most of her adult life, with the sole duty of caring for these incredible and incredibly sad treasures. After receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis, Margaret decides to take in a boarder, and here meets Wanda, a young woman whose broken heart is almost as fascinating as her cooky demeanor. Together, dare I say, they face their dragons.

Something about the "need for redemption" piece of this read reminded me of The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield--which I completely loved. This would be a great book for a group as it is accessible yet multi-layered.

Things About Which I Am Illiterate vol. 1: iTunes

2009-05-27T14:12:00.000-07:00

Only recently did I even venture into the realm of the iPod. I've had one for a while, but since I tend to shy away from new things until the majority of the population has successfully integrated them into their lives, I have been ignoring it. Like when I was in middle school and everyone had CD players, but I still used tapes. Don't get me wrong, I had a CD player, but it was almost like I felt sorry for the three thousand cassette singles I had purchased at Camelot Music. What would happen to them?

Since giving birth four months ago, I have slowly started to get into working out again. Before I got pregnant with Griffin, I was running and loving it, so I am working toward that goal again. The iPod tends to be a bit easier to carry than a Discman (which I have), so I've decided it was time to get to know him. The problem is, that it seems to be so easy to use that I get confused. And iTunes, well now, wait, what do I do?

Since Rhett's music collection consists of a wide variety of what I can only label as loud guitarry music, I have been searching for something to run to. Long story long, my BFF Allison made me a super-awesome mix and I am very excited to utilize it but I spent OVER AN HOUR last night trying to figure out how to get the songs (which are now on my computer) onto my iPod. And by the time Rhett got home, I had given up and forgotten about the task altogether. What is wrong with me?!?! Why can't you just set the thing on top of the CD or point it at the screen and have them magically appear? Everthing else about the darn thing might as well be magic.

Poetry Analysis, the Spring, and My Over-Crowded Desk

2009-05-20T08:22:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Spring-time at the relaxing retreat-away-from-home affectionately known as My Desk. Spring means Literary Analysis. Which means essays. And poetry analysis. And essays analyzing poetry.

The result, as you can see, is that my desk looks like this. Some people might think, "Wow! I could never leave my desk like that on a Friday. She'll be there all night getting through that pile. I'll bet it's all she can think of..."

But you know what? Not true. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I am looking forward to the weekend. In fact, I've thought of about 30 other things just in the last 5 minutes. And I'm 95% sure my desk will still look like this when I leave today.

Peace Montag.

2009-05-19T08:19:00.000-07:00

Nothing says "summer's almost here" like a celebration of book-burning. After I get over the creepy photo of Ray Bradbury on the back cover of the book, I always enjoy a good romp through Fahrenheit 451. In 1953, Bradbury wrote about a future overrun by technology, where children no longer care about the validity of information, but consume what is set before them without question, quickly moving on to destroy things at the local theme parks.

The story goes that the fireman's duty is to destroy knowlege and promote ignorance, all in an effort to equalize this futuristic society. The setting is full of over-stimulating images of fast cars, giant and ever-blaring television screens, and 200-fo0t long billboards. Reading has given way to faster means of consuming information; important and accurate information has given way to tidbits of purposeless banter. This cryptic novel is full of thought-provoking paradoxes such as "not empty" yet "empty indeed" and "dead" yet "alive" or "there" yet "not there". These paradoxes serve to further the certainty that, without substance, life would be uncertain indeed.

This book becomes increasingly interesting to me as we plunge deeper and deeper into the Age of Technology. My mind was especially blown yesterday when 3 of my 90 honors students had heard of Maya Angelou, yet 90% of them picked right up on a reference I made to Nazi Zombies (apparently a level in Call of Duty 5).

Missing my Lost rundowns? Don't worry, I'm getting to the finale.

But, I can make time! (an old draft, but finally finished)

2009-05-01T12:19:00.001-07:00

RIP Daniel Faraday. Last night marked the end to my second favorite Lost character ever (Charlie being my 1st).

Danny Boy pleads with his mom to let him continue with the piano, but she insists that he must give it up "for the Greater Good" (read: Dumbledore and Grindewald, i.e. Deathly Hallows). Dan's reward for being diligent with his studies and becoming Oxford's youngest Doctoral candidate? More criticism from his mother. If it were me, at age 11 (? I'm terrible at guessing ages), I would have gladly given up the piano lessons. However, I was not a genius (contrary to popular belief) and I had a piano teacher who would kick my shin if I was off-tempo or missed a note. And his name was Ken. Enough said?

I just realized something: Penelope! Penelope is Odysseus' wife who waited 20 years for him to return home from Troy, and all the while he was drifting around at sea, encountering innumerable obstacles on a quest to return home to his wife. Sounds like...Desmond and Penelope? Why yes, it does.

Lost Without You

2009-04-23T09:59:00.001-07:00

Since there is no Lost this week, I would like to recommend an alternate viewing option that will knock your socks off. And maybe even your pants. But not your underpants--it's not like that. Of course, you could use the time to read a book. But you probably won't, so how about this brilliant televised event of the past:

Slings and Arrows

Leave it to the Canadians to come up with something so good that goes so unnoticed. This is one of my favorite shows of all time. The show centers around Geoffrey, a once highly-acclaimed stage actor who seven years previously had a mental breakdown in the middle of a production of Hamlet, jumped into Ophelia's grave, and ran away. When the series begins, Geoffrey is directing at a hold-in-the-wall theater in Toronto and is constantly trying to avoid bill collectors, but is inspired by the art of it all. Then he gets a drunk-dial call from Oliver, his former partner at the New Burbage Festival, which is shrouded in mystery and followed by Oliver's untimely death by "Canada's Best Hams" truck. Geoffrey ends up taking over Oliver's job "temporarily" and there you have the series.

I could list ten reasons why this series is so brilliant, but I won't do that to you. I'll just say this: each of the three seasons follows the production of one of Shakespeare's major plays (Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear), events in the show mirroring important themes and motifs from the plays. A fan of Shakespeare? You will love this. Not a fan? You will still find it hilarious.

***Side Note***I tried to show a portion of Season 2 (Macbeth) to my students last year while we read The Scottish Play and it was a disaster because I could not navigate around the flurry of f-bombs. Needless to say, we had to have a conversation about "mature television viewing."

Battle of the Books

2009-04-23T08:04:00.000-07:00

Tuesday got the lucky priveldge of hosting the culminating event of a four-month reading fest that has taken place with our ninth grade students. All ninth-graders participated in Battle of the Books (albeit, some more enthusiastically than others) by choosing a team and reading or becoming knowledgeable about fourteen novels. The first day teams competed in classrooms to answer a variety of questions about these fourteen books. One team from each classroom (17 total) moved on to the Finals, which was nothing short of awesome. Here is a taste:

Quit looking at my answer (Pirates, arrg.)!

Stumped.

Wait for it...

Success is so sweet! And apparently bitter.

In addition to the good times had in the competition, we had a visit from Jim Lynch, the author of The Highest Tide, which was one of the students' book selections. He provided my students with the perfect combo of nerdy-cool writer guy and mysterious sea-life-lover. Plus he dropped a couple f-bombs, which didn't hurt his presentation one bit. The book is now flying off my shelf.

"That douche is my dad."

2009-04-20T09:19:00.002-07:00

I knew it! During the first episode of the season, when we saw Pierre Chang and his little baby, I said, "Hey, I think that baby is Miles." Well, for once, my theory has panned out. In "Some Like it Hoth," we got to see the deeply conflicted child and adolescent Miles who turned out to be the deeply conflicted and moderately grumpy adult Miles. And now we get it.

Despite the seven thousand Star Wars references, this episode was totally enlightening. The premise seemed to revolve around the classic time-travel argument over whether the future can be altered by time travelers--something Hurley is convinced of as he hopes to write The Empire Strikes Back three years before its time. And we were treated to an endless stream of Hurleyisms that were laugh-out-loud funny. Like:

"How do you spell 'bounty hunter'?"

"Dude, that guy's a douche."

"Because, let's face it, Ewoks suck, dude."

"Polar bear poop, got it."

But Miles is not sure he buys into Hurley's theory. He has figured out who his daddy is, yet he is reluctant to approach him, choosing instead to "leave things alone." Oh Miles, who doesn't, on some level, want to talk to his once-thought-dead dad who apparently kicked his mom and he off the Island for a yet-unknown ( but we can assume it is that he found out about the Purge) idea? Doc Jensen seems to think that Miles will be the one to tip off his father about the coming Purge, and therefore set his own sucky life in motion. Not a bad idea, if you ask me.

My favorite part: seeing that guy chisel the fateful numbers (4 8 15 16 23 42) into the unassembled hatch. Hurley: "Dude, that's our hatch."

A Fly on the Wall in a High School Computer Lab

2009-04-16T09:16:00.000-07:00

I feel compelled to share a conversation I just overheard between a math teacher and a student. It may help you to know that the teacher has a thick Texan accent:

Teacher: What are you doing?
Student: I am choosing not to participate today.
Teacher: If you do not participate, you will fail.
Student: Not necessarily true.
Teacher: Yes, necessarily true. There is pass and there is fail. That is all.
Student: Well, in school, yes, but not in life.
Teacher: Yes, in life too. You either pass or you fail.
Different Student: I can't believe I have to listen to this.
(teacher walks away for a minute, but comes back by)
Student: For example, if I don't play my video game, I can't fail at it. I am only neutral.
Teacher:

Some things cannot be transcibed. Like the look on her face. Priceless.

Speaking of Redemption--Ben You've Lost Me

2009-04-13T12:55:00.000-07:00

As I blahblahed on and on today about the power of redemption in literature, and a hero's quest and journey, I kept thinking about Benjamin Linus and last week's mind-blowing episode of Lost. I was on the edge of my computer chair seat with my face practically pushed up to the screen for this entire episode. And the result? I felt a human connection to Ben.

Maybe it's that I have recently Mothered, but something about Ben's weakness for the mother-child connection got me. It reminded me of all the literarily orphaned characters I love: Harry Potter, Pip, Anne of Green Gables, Peter Pan, Jane Eyre, Huck Finn, Tom Sawyer, Pippi Longstocking, Annie... And I started to think about the significance of Ben's own motherless journey through adolescence. His mom died in childbirth and not only did he never know her, but his father was a total jerk to him because of her death. So he has to have an elaborate fantasy about what his life would have become had she survived, and in this fantasy, surely she is a bright and wonderful mother who makes him egg salad sandwiches and never lets his father raise his voice or a finger toward Ben. And this fantasy is surely projected onto every mother he meets, which exlpains his obsession with the Island's Dying Baby Syndrome and Juliet, who became a mother-figure to him when she took care of him in the 1970s Dharma Initiative. Hence they all said, "She looks just like her..."

Oh Ben, let the cycle of redemption begin again.

Look at that hiney, so scanlalous! A look into the mock-epic

2009-04-10T08:56:00.000-07:00

Of late I've been reading Sophie Gee's Scandal of the Season, a historical novel based on the events leading up to Alexander Pope's 1712 writing of The Rape of the Lock. Pope was a poet and a Roman Catholic, which during the early 18th centrury meant he was an outsider and a victim of Protestant rule in England. Growing up in the country, Pope was mostly self-taught and spent years translating the works of Homer and Virgil, fascinated with the profound morals and larger-than-life epic heroes.

The Rape of the Lock is considered one of the greatest examples in the English language of the mock-epic. Modeled after the serious epic tales of Homer and Milton, The Rape of the Lock pokes fun at the vanities and idleness of 18th century high society. The poem was inspired by an incident among Pope's acquaintances in which Lord Petre cut off a lock of Arabella Fermor's hair, and the young people's families fell into strife as a result. Pope was encouraged by another mutual friend to write something light and humorous in an effort to reconcile the two families. Thus, the birth of The Lock of the Rape.

Gee manages to create deep and sympathetic characters while maintaining vigilant historical accuracy. A great read for anyone interested in poetry, lofty ideals, and the Brits.

An Ode to Working Mothers

2009-04-10T08:43:00.000-07:00

My husband has been out of town for about a week and a half now, and the storm that is my existence has slowly been rising. It peaked this morning in a hallway blitzkrieg between myself and a male colleague of mine:

Male Colleague: Wow! Did you just wake up Butler? That's why I don't have hair! Hahaha!

Me (actual): Ha.

Me if there weren't students around: No, actually, I was up at 3 am when my 2-month-old decided he was starving to death, then again at 4 am when my 2-yr-old wanted to talk about his dad and sleep in my bed. Then I was peed on right before we left the house and I didn't change my clothes because we were running late and I felt my time would be better spent getting coffee since we had run out of milk and coffee. And bread for that matter. So read between the lines buddy (that is when I hold up three fingers-this is a family show).

And for the record, that is not why he doesn't have hair.

BlogBlogBlog

2009-04-09T08:01:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while I am blown away by how differnt high school is today than it was just twelve years ago when I was there. For example, the internet. I remember my friend Shannon's family first getting the internet (before any of the rest of us) and that we literally thought the sole purpose of it was to make up fake identities and talk to people in chat rooms. No joke. We spent hours in her basement doing just this. And it probably cost a fortune at the time. Then there is research--I used books and encyclopedias, sat at a table in the library copying down information onto 3x5 notecards. That seems like a lifetime ago.

Now, life without the world wide web seems impossible. And school? Forget it--I would be lost without this resource. This week my students started a literary analysis project in which they blog from the perspective of a character in a classic novel. I was prepared for it to take a full week just to set up the blogs and get students familiar with the format. But in 55 minutes or less, everyone had created a blog, done a bit of internet-based research, and written and published their first post. And that was the moment I realized that life without paper is a definite possibility.

The Luxury of Libraries and Lady-bloggers

2009-04-03T06:32:00.000-07:00

I totally get now why some women in possession of more than one child would choose not to leave their houses. Allow me to elaborate. I was very excited to be home on Spring Break this week and packed my schedule accordingly--including one of my favorite things, a trip to preschool story-time at our local library. Now, this has been a special tradition for James and I since I started taking him when he was about four months. He could barely hold his head up, but you had better believe he was going to get some stories read to him. I think he cried and I think I was embarassed. Which is utter crazy talk in light of the fact that I now have two children.

Well, let me just say that this week's Library Story-Time Fiasco involved an over-crowded tiered parking lot with an abundance of stairs and no ramp, a two and a half-year old who recently discovered that he has the ability to jump (something we have been trying to keep hidden from him for some time now), sideways rain (if you live in the NW you need no further explanation), and an elaborately landscaped fountain and zen rock garden with a tiny railing and a long, at the moment raging, stream.

This is the story of how I became that lady who is screaming at her selectively deaf child to get out of the road while she struggles to pull a huge stroller up four flights of cement stairs.

After the Library Story-Time Fiasco of 2009, I ditched the kids (and by ditched I mean left them with their very responsible father who had explicit instructions on how to care for them) and went to Seattle with my good friend Allison to a book reading event by one of our favorite lady-bloggers Heather Armstrong. The evening included margaritas, adults, and frozen yogurt. Don't get me started on my love of FroYo (when and why did this fad die?). It was wonderful. Even though I had to employ my breastpump in the front seat of Allison's car while she held my coat up.

So, all-in-all, not a boring day.

Lost and Loving It

2009-03-20T08:15:00.000-07:00

Some things only get better as the years go by. Like my favorite red velour pajama pants. Or Neil Patrick Harris. Or Sawyer from Lost. Oh Sawyer, you have really come into your own as the moody, intimidating tough guy/Head of Dharma Security. And I am so happy that you finally got a new pair of reading glasses.

Oh Sawyer. You might be my favorite villain-turned hero ever. The great thing about an on-going narrative is that the characters have a chance to redeem themselves. Or in Ben's case, redeem themselves and then negate this redemption, and then do it again.

In this new setting--1977 Dharma--Sawyer commands respect like my 11th grade Pre-Calc teacher Mr. Brafalaut (so scary!). I love the irony that Jack's fabricated apptitude test indicated he was best suited for janitorial work. Was this Sawyer's way of getting back at him for being such a pretentious know-it-all? I don't know, but something about Jack fumbling around Dharmatown trying to come up with a plan and getting shut down gave me such satisfaction. Sawyer is a thinker, Jack is a do-er, and having to be submissive to Sawyer's plan-to-be is making Jack wish he had never come back. (Jack, don't forget that just months ago you were standing in the rain with a crazy beard screaming, "We have to go back!!")

Did you know that Winston Churchill said he read a book every day? Well, Sawyer did. He said it helped him to think. Shame on you Jack for implying that reading is a waste of time. "Oh really? You're working on it? Because it looks like you are reading a book."

For the Love of the Sea

2009-03-11T12:37:00.001-07:00

When I was in 9th grade, I went on a week-long Biology class field trip to Spieden Island--a bus, a ferry, and a motor boat away from land-locked Eastern Washington where I grew up. It was during this trip, I now believe, that I first felt the draw of the sea.

As our caravan of eight-man motor boats pulled up to the island, a group of awkward and giddy adolescents clamored over each other onto a wobbly wooden dock. It was at this point that someone dropped their flashlight into the water and James Comer, without so much as a second's hesitation, dove right in, Air Jordans and all. That's just the kind of guy James Comer is: he wouldn't think twice about fully submerging himself in the freezing cold Puget Sound water to save someone's four-dollar flashlight. Amazing. Plus, it was like one o'clock in the afternoon--arguably the furthest point in the day from when one might need to have a flashlight out. I saw James Comer two years ago at my ten-year high school reunion, and I am confident that if the situation presented itself again, his reaction would be identical.

I was catapulted into nostalgia-dom over this phenomenal week of fascinating sea-life discovery while I read, no, devoured, The Highest Tide. Jim Lynch's Puget Sound-based novel features Miles O'Malley, whose internal conflict over the sea and all of her creatures would give even Melville a run for his money. Miles is an abnormal 13-year-old who spends his days and nights combing the flats of Skookumchuck Bay for sea-faring creatures of all varieties. Something about this kid reminds me of Pi Patel (Life of Pi), what with his voracious thirst for scientific knowledge. But instead of a tiger for a friend, Miles has Kenny Phelps, an air-guitar-playing kid obsessed with girls and sneaking into places he's not allowed. You know, normal teenage stuff--which makes him a perfect foil for our pal Miles. Anyway...this book not only charmed the pants off of me, it reminded me of the vastness of the ocean and all that lies beneath. It made me glad I live so close to the beach--not a SoCal beach with bikinis and beach umbrellas and a freeway running close by, but a rocky, isolated, Pacific Northwest beach literally just down the street from my house.

Why I Hate the Mac, volume 76

2009-03-06T08:52:00.000-08:00

Just because someone is pretty, is not a good enough reason to refrain from punching them in the face. Which is the thought I am having, even now, as I stare down my life's current antagonist.

Why? Well, I'll tell you. I have been working on obtaining my National Board teaching certificate for two years. TWO YEARS! National Board certified teachers "meet rigorous standards through intensive study, expert evaluation, self-assessment and peer review." (as per their website) Are you even interested in this? I'll cut to the chase. I removed a flash drive containing highly important and nearly complete documents from my loverly computer yesterday (after saving, and saving again) and upon replacing it, the computer informed me (in red and caps--such tact!): it is unreadable.

Now, I know you are thinking what my husband had the audacity to say to me at least three times last night. No, I did not save it anywhere else. Yes, I am sure. Yes, I learned a valuable lesson about backing things up. Well, screw you all because I have learned that lesson MANY TIMES BEFORE in my life. And I maintain that I absolve myself of any blame in this situation. I blame in this order: 1) Steve Jobs for coming up with the idea in the first place; 2) my husband for buying into it; 3) my parents for making me so neurotic.

You may also be throwing around the second-greatest question my trouble-shooting husband asked me: "Did the flash drive come into contact with any magnets?" The answer is yes--I keep a giant magnet on hand at all times.

So a word to the wise: don't trust it, the pretty face is just masking a villain. And quit playing with your magnets so close to the computer.

Reconnecting in 3, 2, and...

2009-02-26T16:00:00.001-08:00

OK, this is to be the blog entry that the last one was originally supposed to be. Now, I mentioned this book Citizen Girl, which I read over the last two grueling TV and internet-free days. The main character is a 24-year-old "feminist" who graduated from Wesleyan with a degree in gender studies. The story is about being true to "thine own self", if you will, as this character gets a job with a seemingly female-oriented marketing agency that ends up being outrageously sexist and she struggles to do the right thing even though she is making really good money, yada, yada. The character's name is Girl, which I get in an overt connect-to-the theme sort of way, but it just didn't work for me. Everyone kept calling her "Girl" and it bugged me every time.

One thing I did love, however, was toward to beginning, Girl gets fired from this really crappy job and lands in a heap of depression, so her mom sends her a box of old relics (including the pantaloons she wore in a tenth-grade production of Twelfth Night) with a note telling Girl she needs to "reconnect with her root accomplishments". I love this. And I have decided that since it is winter, and it snowed today, and darn it, I've been feeling a little blue, I should explore this root accomplishments thing myself. Here you go folks, a look into all I have done in my little life:

1. I spent three years in high school decorating for dances of every conceivable theme. Most of these dances I did not attend. Then, I spent three years of my adult life (read: career) decorating for dances of every conceivable theme (ok, well mostly just Hawaiian and Sea of Love). All of these dances I wish I hadn't attended.

2. I wrote a kick-ass story about unicorns when I was in 3rd grade and was selected to go the Young Author's Conference at the community college. This is the highest formal recognition I've received for my writing.

3. 8th grade was a great year for me vocally. I got to sing two solos at a choir concert-one for a song from Les Miserables, and another from Phantom of the Opera (whatever the famous lovish songs are from each). And I was part of a quartet that sang at our creepy principal's retirement shin-dig. We sang "Scarborough Fair". Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme...

Wow. I feel better already. You should take a few minutes and reconnect with your own root accomplishments.

TV is for the birds

2009-02-26T12:30:00.000-08:00

This week marks the beginning of a new lifestyle for me, as we have officially disconnected our cable service for an undetermined amount of time. Do not read into this, thinking that I have come to the conclusion that television will be the demise of us all--it was purely a financial decision, and one that I did not take lightly. Believe me, there were a lot of things I suggested getting rid of that are less useful to me. Such as heat. I am naturally warm anyway, so I figured we could do without that one. If it wasn't for the ever-pestilent problem of the children...

I digress. I did, however, in the absence of televised anything, manage to read a book this week. Citizen Girl (great cover art, some interesting plot points, and somewhat vague and underdeveloped characters) by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus. I love the name Nicola and had never heard it before I met a colleague-turned-friend who calls herself this. I thought it was totally unique until I picked up this book-what do you know? I think I will put it on the collective nomenclature of potential names for the daughter I will never have.

This is turning into some kind of crazy awesome stream-of-consciousness activity and we are rapidly floating away from my primary objective. I think I will start over.

Famously Insecure Women in Lit.

2009-02-17T15:06:00.000-08:00

I was thinking this would be a good title for a college course I would like to teach. I wonder if someone would like to hire me as an adjunct faculty to do just this (probably not, unless it is the University of I Live on an Island). I came up with this class today as I was looking at recent pictures of myself and wondering who that woman is with collagen injected into multiple locations spread across her entire face. And thighs. Hhmmmm (heavy sigh)...aren't we, as women, so often motivated by the things in our lives that make us the most insecure? I mean, if I wanted to still wear maternity clothes, I wouldn't have stopped being pregnant, you know what I mean?

Here are some women who I think can relate to this womanly plight of insecurity:

1. Bridget Jones. I read Bridget Jones's Diary when I was in college and it was as if I had finally met a woman who could measure up to my mania. As an English major who wanted to be a writer, I spent many nights cooped up in a computer lab under the guise of "writing a paper". But really I was mostly surfing the internet for exotic job postings in Europe or coming up with elaborate stories about what my life would be like if I were dating or married to some guy sitting at the computer behind me. I got up to go to the bathroom A LOT. Bridget was my soul mate.

2. Lady Macbeth. Talk about a hot mess. Like many women (myself included, on occasion) Lady M's insecurities reach beyond her physical being to encompass her total realm of influence--namely, her husband. She is a total control freak. I mean, when was the last time you killed someone to raise your own status and make yourself feel better? Huh?

3. Daisy Buchanan. She is married, yet enters into a love affair with Gatsby anyway due to his charm and apparent wealth. Then she runs over her husband's mistress with Gatsby's car and speeds away. Need I say more?

Do you know who is not insecure? Nancy Drew. Did you know that she is perpetually a teenager? I have never met a teenage girl (and trust me, I've met a few) with her kind of confidence and poise. And she is so insightful. Now I want to be Tina Fey and Nancy Drew.

A Lack of Literary Prowess

2009-02-11T12:02:00.000-08:00

The only things I've read in the last week are Entertainment Weekly and a rather lengthy medical document on how to care for my son's newly circumcised boy part. I feel guilty, I really do. And now I have nothing to say other than all this birth-giving has gotten me slightly off-task. Well, we'll just say "alternately-tasked". We even tried to watch a movie last night, but I fell asleep for about 90 minutes in the middle and couldn't seem to figure out what was happening once I roused myself.

I did find this great little video called Lost Untangled where the producers use action figures to explain (sort of) current and pending situations both on and off the island. I did not purpose this blog to be strictly about Lost, or television for that matter, but it is all I've got right now so there you have it.

Lost Book-Club Ballyhoo

2009-01-29T10:14:00.000-08:00

OK, seriously, this is why I can't sleep:

If you don't watch Lost, or if you watch it casually, you may not be aware that it is deeply rooted in the literary arts. Everything has a meaning, especially names, and these guys drop literary allusions like sunflower seeds at a baseball game. (Hey look, I made a sports reference! $20 says that won't happen again...) What I mean by this is that there are literally hundreds of books to which details big and small connect themselves--it is a finely crafted conglomerate of tasty tidbits for the avid reader.

Take, for just one tiny example, the idea posed to me yesterday by my more brilliant and fashion forward teaching partner/partner in crime/partner in search of all things entertaining or appalling on the internet: the relationship between Daniel Faraday and his benefactor Charles Widmore has a host of commonalities which can be distinctly linked to the Pip/Miss Havisham benefactorial relationship in Dickens' Great Expectations. Whew! That was a mouthful. Now, Dickens is scattered throughout Lost lore, (Lindelof and Cuse confirm that they are both Dickens "afictionados", admiring him for his ability to tell sprawling, character-driven stories and for being the "master of coincidence"--is this sounding familiar yet?)--but I never would have come up with this connection on my own. So when asked to explain her thinking, Mrs. Sinibaldi replied as follows:

"...Pip has a secret benefactor that was both a blessing and a curse, evoking mixed feelings from the reader. Do we feel happy for Pip/Dan and glad that he has this benefactor who takes care of him and leads him to success in his desired field? Or concerned for him because now he's going to owe this person because of this tie? And what if your benefactor is evil? Does that make you evil also? Can you reject an evil benefactor when they've done so much for you? Then something you said about Charlotte/Vegetable-girl made me think of Pip's issues with Estella and Biddy--unsure of who he should love and who he does love..."

I am confident that, somewhere out in the vast universe of the world-wide-web, there is someone as nerdy as I whose sleep is also invaded by similar thoughts of giant literary conspiracies. But since that person is not here (which is actually a good thing because I'm not wearing pants and didn't plan on fetching any), and I have gotten that off my chest, I think I will go back to sleep now.

Check out the Lost Book Club for a complete list of references big and small. Sweet dreams.

Death and Re-birth?

2009-01-29T09:12:00.001-08:00

Well, my favorite pen died today, an ominous sign for sure. It was a Papermate Liquid Expresso, dark purple with an extra-fine point. It didn't go quickly, either--it was slow and painful, sputtering every once in a while, giving me hope that maybe it was just a minor infection, and not really the inevitable end of our journey together. But it was (the inevitable end of our journey together, that is).

Luckily I am wearing all black today as a part of a school-wide teacher conspiracy to freak out kids and see if they notice. I really don't make this stuff up. Another reason the black attire is appropriate: the death of our good friend Charlotte Staples Lewis. Yes, folks, she is a goner. Did anyone else think she bore a striking resemblance to Faraday's lab partner/girlfriend who we saw in a vegetative state being cared for by none other than...you guessed it: Charles Widmore? Now, we know that Dan F. was recruited by Whidmore to use his time-travel expertise in an Island-procurring mission to find and destroy Ben Linus, but we didn't know that Widmore was previously connected to Faraday or that he was his "benefactor". Now Widmore is taking care of the "poor woman" whose current situation could be an informercial on the adverse effects of time travel. Ahh!

Poor Charlotte--she finally stopped scowling and actually smiled a couple of times when Dan F. was professing his love for her. But does he love her? Or does he love the similar-looking vegetative-state lab partner? Or are the the same woman?...

I tried to find a picture of C.S. Lewis with blood spurting forth from her nose, but apparently those images are protected. And probably not appropriate for school.

I Have, Yet Again, Found Something With Which to Become Obsessed

2009-01-28T07:39:00.000-08:00

I was at the library yesterday (one of my favorite places and, in my humble opinion, a cornerstone of our democratic society-nothing says "equality for all" like the ability to access unlimited sources of information free of charge). I think that is long enough for that sentence. At said library, I picked up a copy of Nick Hornby's Shakespeare Wrote for Money because a) it is Nick Hornby and I always picture John Cusack when I read his stuff, b) it is short, and c) it has a great cover. I had no idea what it was, and upon arriving home and sitting down to peruse it, I realized that it is a collection of essay articles he wrote for The Believer (a monthly rag dedicated to literary exploration). His column (?) focuses on books he is reading at the time, giving insight, review, criticism, and making connections to his own life. Shakespeare Wrote for Money is the third collection of these articles to be published, following The Polysyllabic Spree and Housekeeping vs. the Dirt.

In essence, it is like a blog about reading...and it is wonderful and hilarious. Check out the first installment.

Coming to you live...

2009-01-27T10:05:00.000-08:00

from mid-term finals (an oxymoron, yes). What a great time of year--the true half-way mark. There is nothing like the peace and quiet of angst-ridden adolescents frantically writing away and glancing at the clock in panic and shock every 2 minutes (I teach a lot of honors classes). Check my Facebook status tonight and it will say: Molly is casually grading mid-term exams while in labor.

This week also marks the beginning of a literary journey upon which I will be embarking with my students. A knowledge bowl-type event (think: the Mathletes from Mean Girls, except with books). Students have formed teams and are posed to read and reflect on fourteen young adult novels of various genres and reading levels. Since I hadn't previously read any of these books, I too am trotting diligently through them. I'm very excited about this little project (see the first paragraph, picture me in baggy jeans and a flannel, and you have an accurate portrait of my own high school experience)--here are the books we are reading:

Peaches, by Jodi Lynn Anderson (I just finished this one--very Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants-ish)
The Boxes, William Sleator
Pirates! Celia Rees
Dragonsong, Anne McCaffrey
The Westing Game, Ellen Raskin
The Christopher Killer, Alane Ferguson
Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
Code Talker, Joseph Bruchac
I Heard the Owl Call My Name, Margaret Craven
Maus I, Art Spiegelman
East, Edith Pattou
Night Hoops, Carl Deuker
The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
The Highest Tide, Jim Lynch

A few of these will be tough for me (I don't usually gravitate towards sci-fi or hobbits), but for the most part I really like the selections we have made. Happy Tuesday, I wish you some peace and quiet of your own.

Destiny Calls

2009-01-22T09:07:00.000-08:00

Destiny can be a fickle b-word sometimes. A lesson I have learned the hard way a time or two. Like today, for instance. I have a week left in the semester; a mountain of final projects, exams, and essays on which to confer, collect, and grade; and a damn baby is trying to come out of me. The timeline is imperfect and I refuse to submit to it willingly. But, as I previously hinted, destiny is not a supplicant opponent.

Which brings me to the other reason I refused to have a baby yesterday: the season 5 premiere of Lost. In the last couple of years, I have catapulted to level "crazy" of Lost fandom--something that annoys my husband to no end, but is totally fueled by my equally eccentric colleagues. In fact, one of my work friends comes up with theories more brilliant than I could ever conceive to dream up (she's a Dr. and a math teacher, and she works for NASA on the side--go figure). So I have made myself write this before discussing last night's premiere with her, in order to keep myself from plagerizing her ideas. If I write again tomorrow, however, you will be on to me.

And now, what I loved:

1. Hurley's extreme guilt at lying. Guilt, they say, is the worst motivator, but it certainly works. I grew up Catholic, so trust me, I know a bit about the subject. Hurley's guilt over lying about the people they left behind makes him crazy, and he's been seeing dead people.

2. The butcher. She is a badass, and somehow connected to the island? The infrastructure of Ben's madness gets bigger and more complex as each day passes.

3. Sawyer slapping Daniel Faraday. He is just the kind of character who needs a little "right now" slapped into him every once in a while. I love him, though, so don't be confused.

4. Flying flaming arrows. Where did they come from? And who?

I will pause now to formulate my own theories and will return tomorrow. AKA, I have to read Doc Jensen's Entertainment Weekly reviews and talk to my friend Tinell.

Oh! I get it now--you were under deep cover when you killed those 30 guys.

2009-01-14T13:49:00.000-08:00

Boy, Tony Almeida perked right up when he wasn't pretending to be a terrorist. And is it my imagination, or did Jack actually look a little hotter on the 2nd night of the season premiere? Especially after he busted Tony out of the FBI headquarters interrogation room. Maybe it is just that my husband volunatrily slept on the couch last night (he is a martyr for my sleep needs), but I think things are starting to look up for 24: Day 7.

I mean, don't get me wrong, it's no Season 2 (that was the one where Jack went under-cover with the South American drug lords and became addicted to heroin, a nasty habit he was forced to kick in Season 3 before finding the bio-terrorists), and that red-haired lady is pissed, but I think I can buy-in. Chloe is back and along with Bill Buchanan (the former director of CTU) and Tony Almeida, she is conducting a secret outside-the government-crack the conspiracy of which of the president's cabinet members is working for the terrorists-don't trust anyone until Jack comes back- investigation.

Bright shiny spots of this season: 1. Janeane Garofalo plays a really nervous computer wizz with bad hair and 2. the guy who played Billy, the crazy "Medellin" director in Entourage has the same mannerisms as an FBI analyst that he did as a creative-permiscuous-genius/Sundace Film Festival flop. Who could make this up? Only the writers of 24.

Well kids, it looks like I may be looking forward to Monday nights after all.

The Garden of Last Days--a review

2009-01-13T16:14:00.000-08:00

This book was not as action-packed as I originally thought it would be (I must not be getting enough action in my life because nothing is good enough for me--not Jack Bauer, not books, hmmm...). But it did make me seriously consider the pros and cons of being a stripper.

The story is about a woman named April (stripper name: Spring) who lives in Miami and works at a "gentleman's club". She's a single mom and is trying to save up enough money to buy a house for her daughter and herself and brings home $10,000-$12,000 a month (PRO). Then one night her babysitter has a heart attack and she has to bring her 3-year-old daughter to work with her, where she ends up stripping for one of the 9/11 hi-jackers while her daughter is abducted from the parking lot (CON and CON).

The story offered insight into the sometimes devastating decisions people make and the motivations on which those decisions are based. It was sad and depressing and made me root for people I normally would not have...like the desperate child-abductor who somehow thought he was doing the right thing and whose life was a series of consequences put in motion by bad choices.

I work with young people and am daily reminded of the fragility of life and how one bad choice can change your life forever. Sometimes I want to scream at them and tell them there's more to life than what you're going to look like in the five minutes between my class and your next one. But then again, sometimes I'm just not sure there is...

"It's Just Technology! Can't We Unplug it or Something?!?"

2009-01-13T01:53:00.000-08:00

Not since Melissa Badgely taught me to smoke in my best friend Hilary's front yard while her parents were sleeping have I felt the sense of thrill and adventure that I did watching the premiere of 24:Season 7.

No wait, strike that. I think I was referring to Season 3 with the bio-terrorism. You know, the one where they injected the guy with ebola and dumped him out of a van at a shopping mall in the first episode? Season 7 is about technology theft.

I have always been pretty accepting when it came to 24. Even when Tony Almeida got shot in the neck and came back to work two hours later, it was not too much for me because I was a true fan. I remember during my first pregnancy looking forward to Monday nights because I knew I was going to have action-packed dreams starring myself and Jack Bauer as my love-interest/crazy rogue government operative. He would talk to me in that low husky voice and do that weird blinky thing with his eyes and I would swoon. What happened to you Jack? Now you look old and Tony Almeida doesn't look scary, just sleepy. I wish you wouldn't have jumped off that crate on the boat to tackle him because it looked like you may have hurt yourself.

Now, instead of looking forward to those dreams, all I have is heartburn and a husband who is snoring like a screaming child.

Why Can't I Be Her?

2009-01-09T11:58:00.000-08:00

Tina Fey is one of my living heroes. I think I am a little bit in love with her. Here are ten good reasons (in case there is something wrong with you and you have to ask the question "why?"):

1. She is the funniest woman alive. (I really shouldn't have to go any further)

2. She is an emotionally stable working mom.

3. She is normal, not crazy.

4. She doesn't like to break rules. (me neither!)

5. She is honest--"It’s the year after the baby comes that is like someone hitting you every day in the face with a hammer.” (TF)

6. She writes her own show, and it is the best sitcom on TV.

7. She loves to eat.

8. She know how to wear success without carrying a small dog in a gold lame (accent over the e) bag.

9. She isn't afraid to look silly.

10. She is the funniest woman alive. (in case you forgot #1)

I just read a great article about her in Vanity Fair. Check it out and then email me so that I can send you a link to her fan club.

Merry Christmas to Me

2008-12-24T19:34:00.000-08:00

I previously mentioned that I am reading The Garden of Last Days, which I am. However, the copy I have is a huge hardback library edition and at the last minute (around 4:30 am yesterday) I decided to leave it in the car at the airport as the scene at said Seattle airport was one of mayhem and madness. Utter madness, literally. No, seriously, it was a miracle of God that we got on our flight--we had to run Home Alone-style through the terminal to our gate, and we got there 2.5 hours before we were scheduled to leave. Anyway, I left the book, not having room for it in my purse or carry-on and I was left to forge through a long-forgotten book shelf for something to read today while my son took a nap and I tried to relax. What I found is amazing and I can't keep it a secret from you--Janet Evanovich's The Rocky Road to Romance.

Evanovich writes in a short introduction to the book that it is a rip-roaring romance, and true to the genre it is just that. Almost no character development, a very shallow plot, and a whole lot of lovin'. It is fantastic, and I am not kidding you. Merry Christmas to me.

And Merry Christmas to you--may your day (and night) be merry and bright! ;)

Christmas Reading

2008-12-18T17:50:00.000-08:00

My Christmas Break reading list--please keep up.

1. The Garden of Last Days by Andre Dubus III. This novel was inspired by some of the events leading up to 9/11. I am about 1/3 of the way through--pretty interesting, though a bit raunchy in a terribly sad sort of way. The background is that one of the men involved in the 9/11 attacks visited a strip club days before and spent thousands of dollars on strippers and booze, making some interesting comments (obviously). This story is told from the perspective of one of the girls, as she observes and works for this man. This is not your average action/thriller, but a deeply terrifying and tragic story. And so far, it is a page-turner.

2. Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich. I haven't started reading this one yet, but I am pretty fascinated by the concept. I'm not an avid reader of non-fiction text, but I've had this book for a while and just recently read the description, which reeled me in. A journalist decides to work and live on minimum wage jobs in four different regions of America. I am convinced that I need to go back to college already.

You can try and avoid fate, but then you will get hit with ten inches of snow

2008-12-18T09:55:00.000-08:00

It is, as my son has been telling me for two days, snowing rain. Yes son, it is snowing a crapload of rain. Ironically I have spent the last few weeks counting the days until Christmas break, yet when school is canceled, I am completely disappointed. The reason for this being that I love the last few days before break, as they offer my students a time to reflect on our time with Romeo and Juliet. Specifically, it is a time when I like to show them some great videos--such as The Reduced Shakespeare Company's abridged version of the play and Baz Luhrmann's campy 1996 film--which I love more with each viewing.

If you have never experienced RSC--take 13 minutes out of your day and watch these two clips from YouTube. I love these guys.

Part 1

Part 2

My prayer for the day: Dear God, please make it stop snowing so that I can wear my crazy sequined Christmas sweater and gold bow hair clip to school tomorrow.

Shop Online Fridays

2008-12-05T16:49:00.000-08:00

A common and never tired joke around our English Department is that we organize our schedules to have tests or movies on Fridays, and therefore we get a day to shop online. Though this is a nice idea in theory, of course it leaves us (me) with a mountain of essays to grade on the weekends--so usually I end up frantically grading while my students work away or enjoy some sort of media-based text.

All this to say, I spent the better part of my day writing the aforementioned sonnet and therefore did not grade any papers. This leaves me, at home on a Friday night grading essays while my son watches Go Diego Go! and we wait for the pizza to get here. I blame Olivia Hussey and Leonard Whiting (whom, my students brought to my attention, bares a striking resemblance to Zac Effron) for allowing me to get off-task today. Tsk Tsk.

"Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books"...a tribute to R&J in sonnet

2008-12-05T08:40:00.000-08:00

Review: A sonnet is a 14-line poem written in iambic pentameter (5 unstressed syllables each followed by a stressed syllable, making a total of 10 syllables per line). In a sonnet, every other line rhymes, and the last two lines are a couplet.

It is also referred to (as per a quiz answer yesterday) as iambic petermeter. But, I am getting off subject. Here you go:

The yearly time hath come, when lovers swoon
And high school students giggle at the sound
Of Romeo dear and his spritely tune--
About his love for women, girls, and hounds.
On and on he goes of love that's stronger
Than a thousand arrows from Cupid's bow.
Girls' looks do baffle this heart-led monger
Who seems to eas'ly fall before he knows
A lick about the girl he sees so bright
That stars and moons and suns would scarcely see
Her face for fear of paling in her sight.
Alas!--it seems wise to from this rogue flee.
Yes, Romeo, I'll admit oft looks daft--
The constant victim of a blind bow-boy's butt shaft!

Facebook, the Revolution

2008-12-03T10:23:00.000-08:00

Well, it's a good thing I took the day off from work today so that I could adequately address the mania that is Facebook. I have received about a million friend requests and confirmations--from people I haven't seen in years! It is crazy. I have accepted the concept of social networking, and watched a very helpful instructional tool on the internet. You can find it at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6a_KF7TYKVc

Before you get all huffy and like, "wow, it sure would be nice to take a day off just to work on my Facebook account" you should know that I have also been cleaning up 2-year-old vomit all morning (the vomiter is 2-yrs-old, not the actual vomit; that would make me a really terrible housekeeper and I am only moderately terrible). Trust me, I would much rather be cleaning up the verbal vomit spewed forth by adolescents that is my usual day job.

The expansion of the realm of literacy that has reached out across the world wide web has, indeed, changed the way we think about reading. Sometimes I forget this, but not for too long, as I often receive final draft essays with any combination of the following: "b/c"; "caus"; "OMG"; "BTW"; and "j/k" (really? yes). Maybe being a part of Facebook will help me to become more in tune with current trends in literacy and word de-coding.

Facebook Freaks Me Out

2008-12-01T19:43:00.001-08:00

A friend of mine recently sent me an invitation to join Facebook, so I signed up because I wanted to look at her pictures. You fill in your info, and all of a sudden--boom! It pops up with a list of people who I know suggesting that I may be interested in requesting their friendship (what a fascinating concept, when I was a kid we rarely formally requested people's friendship, we just made fun of them until they thought we were cool). We are talking like 100 people! That I know! How does Facebook know that I know these people?--they are from all walks of my life: high school, college, post-college. It completely freaked me out. It's like this weird voyeuristic universe where people can find out about other people's lives without actually having to talk to them. It makes me think about when you get your yearbook at the end of the school year, and you spend hours looking at every picture, trying desperately to identify flaws in people.

I'm just not sure I'm ready for Facebook.

It's Twilight in Oak Harbor (SPOILER ALERT)

2008-11-14T08:20:00.000-08:00

As the sun approaches the horizon of the new Twilight movie, let's take a moment to reflect on the series that has been giving nerdy teenage girls everywhere a new sense of hope. Now, I have not read Breaking Dawn, the fourth and final installment, but I have it in my possession and plan to start as soon as things wrap up with Jane Eyre. I read these books last Spring, so I am having to brush up a bit--I got totally sidetracked on Stephanie Meyer's website where she talks about her journey to Twilight. She is so normal-seeming, I kind of wanted her to be a bit more eccentric.

In the beginning we have Bella--an average high school girl who moves from Arizona to Forks, WA, to live with her dad. Now, if you have ever been to the Olympic Peninsula, you will know that this is quite a drastic move. Forks is a tiny town south of Port Townsend and isolated from the rest of the world. She makes friends easily, but is intrigued by a group of "siblings"--apparently foster children--who keep to themselves but are all excrutiatingly beautiful. These are the Cullens--a vampire family living in Forks--the rain forest creating the perfect abode for vampires who need to stay away from direct sunlight. Duh-duh-duh...

Edward finds he has an overwhelming attraction to Bella and has to distance himself from her for fear of hurting or killing things. Blah, blah, blah, they get together, fall in love, fight with werewolves and other vampires, and begin the journey to infinity together. Now, there is some serious sexual tension between our two mortally-crossed lovers because though they long for each other (drawing in every teenage girl in America) and Meyer does not spare the details of this longing--descriptions of it are in fact, just that--long, the clincher is that they can't have sex because he would kill her. How's that for adolescent birth control, huh? Yes ladies, he is so powerful that he would actually rip her apart.

I think I will stop there for now, and let you think about that for a while. Be careful this weekend, it's supposed to be overcast...

Part 2--the end

2008-11-13T12:41:00.002-08:00

Don't forget the read the Pros and Cons at the bottom-- I think it might be my favorite part!

I love this--click to make it bigger

2008-11-13T12:36:00.001-08:00

FW: How are you like Jane?

2008-11-13T07:58:00.000-08:00

You know when you get those email forwards that ask you to fill in the answers to a bunch of really unoriginal questions and then forward it on to all of your friends? Well, I have gotten a lot of those lately and have decided to make one of my own that relates to Jane Eyre. Feel free to copy and paste it into an email and send it to all of your friends.

1. Which do you prefer, grey smocks or black? (If you have a hard time deciding between the two, you may be like Jane)

2. Do you believe in ghosts, spooks, haunts, or other apparitions? (If you do, you may be like Jane)

3. What is the largest age-span between you and someone your heart truly desired? (If it is more than 15 years, you may be like Jane)

4. Do you feel obligated to consistently mention the fact that you are plain or unhandsome, and that one would have little reason to take note of you based on your physicality? (If so, you could be like Jane or Mr. Rochester!)

5. Do you want love and independence--to a fault? (If so, you guessed it)

Keep checking your email, you never know when something good like this will pop in!

A History Lesson--Charlotte and Jane

2008-11-02T15:41:00.000-08:00

For some time, I have harbored the false illusion that I once tried to read Jane Eyre but found it so boring that I couldn't make it through the first chapter. Henceforth, I have not, since this fictional occasion, felt any desire to return to the Brontes in any way, shape, or form. This being said, I am often confronted with questions of the literary nature posed by young and eager minds that I can't answer--and recently one came my way concerning a young girl by the name of Jane Eyre. Not having an answer for the question, I sought to find one by means of attempting anew to read the story. What I discovered, to my delight, is that I have never read this book before and the first chapter quite caught my attention! I have come to the conclusion that the book to which I previously referred was actually Wuthering Heights--a different Bronte sister entirely!

As I researched Jane and her creator Charlotte Bronte to gain some insight into the motivation of this narrative, I uncovered some fascinating new information (courtesy of Sparknotes, of course). Here's what I found out:

1. Either because of or in spite of its critique of Victorian assumptions about gender and social class, Jane Eyre (originally published under the male pseudonym Currer Bell) was one of the most successful novels of its era both commercially and critically. This means that the Victorians, as perfect as they were, harbored secret desires to, so to speak, "balk the system". Fantastic--I knew they had it in them.

2. The novel follows the form of Bildungsroman--a novel that tells the story of a child's maturation and focuses on the emotions and experiences that accompany and incite his or her growth into adulthood. *See Great Expectations and many other 19th century British works for further examples of this literary form.

3. It is a fairly autobiographical narrative, based on Charlotte's experiences in boarding schools both as a student and teacher, including a crazy Evangelical reverend and a close friend who dies of tuberculosis.

Stay tuned for more to come (I've only read 100 pages or so!).

I Can See! Blindness re-cap

2008-10-24T13:58:00.001-07:00

OK, so I mentioned this book earlier in the summer--and it has taken me that long to finish it. I was forced to take long breaks in which I read other things and looked at pictures of baby pandas in an effort to rekindle my spirit and perspective on humanity. But finally, last night, I finished.

Here's the basic premise: An epidemic of blindness has broken out in a major city (what city? you ask, it could be any...)--people are struck with a white blindness for no apparent reason. The government panics and attempts to quarentine the blind into an old mental institution. One woman who is not blind goes along, not wanting to leave her husband, and what she sees is extremely disturbing. The basic need for survival will change people into something they never dreamed they could be.

This book was intense and intensely depressing, but the prose is beautifully written (it is a Portugese translation, none the less), and I did experience redemption upon completing the narrative. There is hope in this story, if only in the fact that people can survive horrible situations with the help and support of others. The movie is coming out sometime in the near future, and based on the read, I'm not sure I can see it. Plus, it looks really scary.

Tell me again George...about the rabbits

2008-10-16T08:05:00.001-07:00

Have you met George and Lennie? You may have met them when you were in 9th grade--I didn't have the pleasure my first time as a freshman, but since I now live in a perpetual state of 9th-gradedness we run into each other on a fairly regular basis. Every October, to be precise.

As I get older, the concept of the American Dream hits me harder. The idea that life can be better, richer, more fullfilling just over the horizon often keeps me pedaling on what sometimes seems to me to be a stationary bike. I love my ___________ (fill in the blank with job, husband, son, dog, 2-car garage), but it seems that every new adventure meant to energize only further fuels my need for sleep. Thank God for Tivo; I can now watch my favorite shows from 7-8:30 instead of from 8-11. Is the Dream real or simply a figment of our over-active American imaginations?

It is George and Lennie who make me realize that the American Dream is real, somehow. That regardless of the outcome, hope for a better tomorrow actually makes us better today. Nobody wants to be like Curly or his defeated wife, who have given up and accepted that life is hard and always will be. It's George and Lennie that we look to for reassurance that it is OK to want more in spite of who or where we are.

You should read Of Mice and Men again (or for the first time). It is especially impactful in light of the current dark cloud hovering over our nation. It is only 107 pages long, so it won't cut into your shopping time too much. And it may change your life.

The Crucible of Civilization

2008-10-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

Well, so much for writing more often. Happy mid-October! It is no longer back-to-school time, we have settled into a nice routine that consists of "I think I already turned that in..." and "oh, here it is, it was in the bottom of my backpack!" The joys of daily interaction with adolescents. This year, I have the unique pleasure of teaching 9th grade (that means 14 and 15-year-olds to those of you who are confused) all day long! God bless them, they are their own breed, and I can honestly say that I have never been bored at work.

The onset of October brought an introduction to the classical dramatic theories of the one and only Aristotle for my honors students. Though it is a review for me, I am always amazed at the influence the Greeks have had on Western Civilization--the introduction of performance literature among the many mind-blowing concepts they came up with. We just finished reading Oedipus the King (you know--killed his dad, married his mom, all in an effort to avoid fulfilling a prophecy that he would do just this), and are into Antigone right now. What an amazing woman! She was truly a feminist at heart, choosing to do what she knew was right in the face of powerful men who told her to back down. I admire her, and Sophocles for painting a picture (2500 years ago) of a female protagonist who is not crazy or weepy, but instead is strong and independent.

If you have never had the pleasure of meeting these wild and crazy Greeks for yourself, October is the month to do so. See if you can find them at your local library--or better yet, look them up on Sparknotes and read the summaries, then have intelligent conversations about them at dinner parties and never admit that you didn't read the actual Greek translation.

Carry on!

Back to School Greens

2008-09-02T20:27:00.001-07:00

I love back to school time. I look forward to it probably more than I look forward to summer vacation. I always have. I like to get new pencils (this year I got an awesome batch of High School Musical ones at the dollar store), sharpen them up, and get ready for the big day. It is almost here now, only two more angst-filled, nightmare-wielding, sleepless nights. Last night I had a slasher-themed nightmare, which didn't have anything to do with going back to school, but was quite exciting none the less.

All this to say that with the school year starting and me going back to work, I will have more time to devote to this little book journal of mine. Sorry for those of you who have longed to hear about my summer reading. I will be sure to give you a recap shortly. I fall apart in the summer--no schedule, so many episodes of What Not to Wear, and my comfy green couch that called to me daily after I finished eating Doritos for lunch (only fresh veggies and fruits for sides during the school year).

Until then, happy reading.

It is Great to Choose

2008-07-11T12:36:00.000-07:00

Hello tiny computer friends. It has been over a week since I last wrote...truth be told, I have been avoiding you. It's 1984--we haven't been exactly connecting, you see. The real deal is that I'm pregnant and tired and the book was making me depressed so we parted ways. It was amicable, don't worry. I refuse to say that I disliked the book, since I would undoubtedly have learned many things through reading it. I have a deep respect for it, and will try again another time. Maybe.

That being said, while procrastinating about 1984, I read a couple of powerful books by two of my favorite young adult authors. I would like to consider myself somewhat of an expert in the area of YA lit, I read a lot of these books since one of my greatest passions in life is promoting literacy, particularly among teens (who mostly hate to read and aren't afraid to tell you). I aspire to write books aimed at teens, maybe I will share something with you in the future and you can tell me what you think. Anyway, there are some amazing stories out there. Here's the skinny on two of them, both by local NW authors, which makes me love them even more:

Honey, Baby, Sweetheart, by Deb Caletti. I love Caletti. She has a gift for writing teenage girls who fly just under the radar. This book was a National Book Award Finalist--which it totally deserved. It is the story of Ruby McQueen, a smart and quiet girl living in Nine Mile Falls who is going through a crisis in her understanding of love. She lives with her independent, confident librarian mother who turns into a lipstick-crazy, short-skirt-wearing monster whenever Ruby's father decides to come visit, which is like every couple of years. Ultimately, Ruby and her mom will save each other. Heartbreaking story of hope.

The Sledding Hill, by Chris Crutcher. Crutcher has had all of his books banned in schools at some point. Now, you have to know that this is a hot-button issue for me. I strongly oppose censorship and believe that young people will be stronger if they approach tough issues on their own, think critically, and come to a decision for themselves. Often they will come to the wrong decision, but then, so will I and I still wouldn't want anyone else to make my decisions for me. This book is about censorship in schools. It is about a small community's attempt to rid their school of indecent literature, fueled by a Chris Crutcher book. It is fascinating, you should really read it.

I will keep you posted on my literary adventures. I was recently given Blindness, by Jose Saramago by a friend of mine. I think I will read that next. It won the Nobel Prize for Literature, for crying out loud. Quit acting like it's a cop-out.

Big Brother is Watching You

2008-07-02T13:27:00.001-07:00

Well...let's just say I've only read like 10 pages of 1984. I did read half of The Other Boleyn Girl and a trashy romance novel called Something Borrowed, however. The Boleyn thing would just not ever end! I couldn't make it through. The other book was ok, not a super well-developed plot, but it was entertaining. So here I am, confessing to you because I have been slacking off. Actually, I have had the book in the bathroom, and haven't moved it out, so that is where I have been doing my reading of Orwell's thought-provoking work. And anyone who has a two-year-old knows that you never get to spend as much time as you would like in the bathroom. (too much information? no, I don't think so.)

So far (after 10 whole pages) I am bored with it. I don't generally do well with sci-fi or futuristic stuff. I know that I need to commit some time to it, though. Don't worry, I haven't given up yet. I'll get to it here soon.

On another interesting note, James is going to be a big brother. He keeps lifting up his own shirt, pointing to his emaciated-African-child-sized belly and saying "Baby, pleeeeeeease!" I swear I did not teach him this, so it is a bit frightening.

A Salute to Some Great Women in History

2008-06-17T12:47:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure I have mentioned this before, but I love my job. I get tired of young people, and I get overwhelmed by the information age, but I do, I still love it. One aspect that makes me excited to come here in the morning is that I work with some amazing women. They make me laugh every day, and I don't think there is any better measure of a job. As the school year comes to an end, we are all counting the minutes, but I just have to say, I will miss these ladies. They are my friends--here are some pictures that might give you a little taste of life at Oak Harbor High School. Cheers to great women! (Obviously the first one was our Christmas party, and if you can't read them, those shirts say: "Don't rock it, WALK IT!"--we wore them in the half marathon)

Catcher in the Rye--Final Exam

2008-06-17T07:55:00.000-07:00

I have decided that the best way to personally analyze the novel as a whole is to take a final exam on it. So I have taken the liberty of writing one for myself.

1. "They" say this is a coming of age novel. Do you agree? And if so, what is the turning point for Holden?

I do see Catcher as a coming of age novel. Throughout the account, Holden proves himself to be completely self-centered and adolescent--thinking only of his own needs and desires. He hints at things he likes (his brother Allie, his sister Pheobe, the ducks in the lake...), but focuses primarily on his dislikes (Hollywood, fancy prep schools, anyone who is a big phoney, which is pretty much everyone he meets). This is a very adolescent attitude--I see teenagers everyday who are consumed by the negative aspects of life--which teacher is a jerk, whose shoes are ugly, why do we have to write? can't we just do nothing? this class is so boring! They are incapable of seeing the world beyond themselves, of noticing when people are hurting, how their words affect others, or what would be the consequence of hard work. Holden too wants life to be easy. He doesn't want to have to deal with others, to work at relationships. He'd rather go and live in a cabin in the woods and pretend to be a deaf-mute so that no one will talk to him. It is ridiculous and immature for one to think that he could go through life without dealing with people who he doesn't like. But Holden does grow up. He does look beyond his own nose. I think that the turning point in the novel comes when Holden meets Pheobe at the musem, after asking her to come and say goodbye to him. He expects her to come and maybe to be sad, but she shows up with a suitcase wanting to go with him out west. Holden is beside himself, it is as if he realizes for the first time that Pheobe looks up to him and wants to follow in his footsteps. This makes Holden go crazy--he doesn't want her to look up to him, he feels worthless. It is like this conversation with Pheobe triggers something in him, and he starts to think about the consequences of his actions, about how he affects others. I guess you could say that Pheobe saves him in a way.

2. How do you see yourself in Holden? What lessons helped you to come of age?

Oohh, big question. And quite personal too. How presumtuous of you to ask. Well, first off, I, like Holden, am still very selfish. I'm reminded of this daily when faced with some ungodly task of motherhood. I have also always been a dreamer. Big, crazy dreams about living in faraway lands and being a writer. (Holden's dreams are about living in the woods and being a hermit) I've lived in my head most of my life. I think one of my turning points was when I lived in Costa Rica for six months, my junior year of college. It is a beautiful country with big, wide-open spaces. I still didn't finish my "book". It was also gross, big bugs everywhere. I stopped eating meat and longed for my mother's living room. I, in fact, love America. It is a wonderful free society and I am ever thankful that I was born here. (That is potentially an ethnocentric statement, but damn it, it is true). Another turning point came in my life when I graduated from college and couldn't get a job with my English degree. (!) What a shock! (!) I applied for tons of publishing and editing jobs in New York, Los Angeles, and London. Never heard back from any of them. The clencher was when I applied for a job at the Skagit Valley Herald (Mount Vernon's tiny newspaper) as some sort of advertising representative. I did have an interview for this one, but I was passed up for a more experienced candidate. Really? It doesn't get much more humiliating than that. At this point I realized that my dreams might just possibly need some adjustments. I went back to grad school and got my teaching degree. You know what they say--"those that can't--teach!"

3. Sum it up--what are your thoughts on the ending?
I appreciated that the story came full circle. Clearly Holden is in some sort of mental institution or rehab center. I think it is a mark of his newly-found maturity that he can reflect upon his journey and share his story. He is starting to reconnect with humanity--he even misses old Stradlater! "Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

A Blast from the Past, from the Future

2008-06-13T13:49:00.000-07:00

In case you are reading along, we are going to start 1984 next week! Grab a copy from your local used book store, library, or online emporium and join the adventure.

A Bunch of Phoneys

2008-06-12T09:12:00.000-07:00

I haven't had time to blog or even really to read this week! I have been writing and grading final exams, all of them very insightful and meaningful. As we speak, my Honors students are taking a final over the novel Lord of the Flies--it is a challenging test and I am somewhat sadistically satisfied as I watch them toil over their responses to this interesting and provocative novel. One thing about teaching smart kids is that occasionally smart kids know they are smart and they start to get really annoying. This is not always the case, but this year I have had a group of students that struggle with seeing the world beyond themselves. I makes me wonder what old Holden would say to them if he heard some of the egocentric statements that come out of their mouths. I think he would appropriately deem them "a bunch of phoneys"--I shouldn't be so harsh, a few years from now they will have experienced some failures and will be much more well-rounded and we would most likely be about to have a conversation without me having to run an internal dialogue.

Part of me wishes that someone would write me a note similar to Holden's note to Mr. Spencer. Here is what it would say:

Dear Mrs. Butler, That is all I know about Ralph and Piggy. I can't seem to get into the deserted-island thing, although your thoughts on the book are facinating and you are strikingly beautiful. It is ok if you give me a B, as I have A's in all my other classes. Sincerely yours, 9th Grade Honors English Student.

An honors student would never think it was ok to fail, so I had to change that part to make it more realistic.

Mr.Caulfield, the doctor will see you...

2008-06-07T06:25:00.000-07:00

Old Holden is making my heart break. Clearly he is crying out for help--doing all he can to get kicked out of multiple schools, running away, screaming for someone to just let him talk. Here is the sum of it, as I can recall: After his tangle with the pimp and prostitute and his breakfast with the two nuns, Holden decides to call Sally Hayes and see if she wants to see a show (a live show of course, since the movies depress the hell out of him). She agrees and they go--Holden knows that the actors are a bunch of phoneys, but for the most part he doesn't say anything for Sally's sake. The thing that is ridiculous to me about him taking old Sally out is that he doesn't even like her, we all know he is in love with Jane. Somehow, though, he is afraid to really talk to the people he cares the most about (like Jane and Phoebe). Anyway, after the show they go ice-skating and this is where the heartbreak comes in. Holden confesses that he is sick of school, sick of New York, sick of all the phoneys in the world. He asks Sally to run away with him to Vermont to live in the woods where he could chop his own firewood and all. Of course she goes nuts and tells him he is ridiculous and they end up parting ways unamicably.

This is when I started to see the signs--I must be dim or something. Like any teenager struggling with depression, Holden is doing everything he can to get someone to help him--I think he has called 30 people in one day! But because everyone is such a phoney, they don't get it. I just want to grab him and sit him down next to Hurley in that crazy mental institution. Then at least they would both have someone real to talk to who would listen to them for about the first time in forever.

I am on p. 149, have a nice day.

Looking for a good read?

2008-06-05T09:59:00.000-07:00

Just in case you aren't enthrawled with my book choices, here is a list of the 10 best books I have read in the last year or so. They are not ranked, just listed as they come to me. I'm on the fly here.

1. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows by J.K. Rowling. OK, so maybe they are ranked a little. It has been a long seven years for Harry, and even longer for me waiting in agony for the release of the next installment. This is book seven, and the end of the road. I love Harry so much I would marry him if I could (sorry Rhett!)--as my former roomates and anyone else who really knows me will attest to. Once I sat in the car during Bumbershoot after paying the ridiculous ticket price and read HP and the Goblet of Fire. It was totally worth it. The last book will not disappoint you.

2. Life of Pi by Yann Martel. This book is facinating for anyone like me who aspires to have a great imagination. It is the story of an Indian boy whose zookeeper father decides to sell all the animals and move to Canada. The long and short of it are that the boy and the tiger end up on a life raft together and Pi has to figure out how to survive. It is a wonderful convergance of science and faith and you will fall in love with both boy and tiger. Don't skip the intro like I did, supposedly it is a true story...

3. The Glass Castle by Jeannette Wells. I am not an avid non-fiction reader, but this memoir made me want to become one. It is a shocking story of overcoming horrific obstacles. I was riveted and couldn't stop reading.

4. The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. This book will woo any Dickens or Austen lovers. It is a very British tale of an old woman's mysterious past that unfolds as she tells the story. Trying to solve the mystery did indeed keep me up at night.

5. Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. This is one of the most interesting and captivating books about God that I have ever read. Writing in narrative form, Miller uses his life, his friends, and his crazy stories to explain why God makes sense to him. It is honest and real and not hokey or cheesy. That is why I like it.

6. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. This is actually a young adult novel that I heard about at a library conference I went to earlier this year. Sherman Alexie is an American Indian writer and poet who lives in Seattle. This story is set on the Spokane Indian reservation, so the setting was super familiar to me (being from E-WA and all). It is about the struggle to be someone or something when no one expects you to. It is also about the struggle to straddle two cultures, in this case, Indian and non-Indian. A very funny and touching story. And you could probably read it in a couple of hours, which is nice too.

7. The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I read this one a couple years ago, but it has stuck with me. It is about a librarian who involuntarily gets sucked through time at random moments and about the woman who loves and marries him. It is scary and exciting and sad. And they are making a movie out of it, of course. But read it first, it is quite good.

8. Great Expectations by Charlie Dickens. At first I wouldn't think that this book would make the list. I read it because a friend of mine was teaching it in her AP Lit. class and I felt left out because I had never read it. It is the story of Pip, an orphan being raised by his evil sister and his too-kind brother-in-law who ends up tangled up in the life of a convict. It is also a love story, sort of. Anyway, it was very deep and very literary and quite long, but I felt great about myself when I was done.

9. A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray. This is another YA book, but is really interesting from a feminist perpective. It is the story of Gemma Doyle, a teenage girl from colonial-India, is sent to a finishing school in London after her mother kills herself. There is an element of super-natural in this story due to the fact that Gemma and the school have an unusual connection to an alternative world.

10. To Kill a Mockingbird by Haper Lee. OK, this is kind of a cop-out since I have read this book about 20 times (due to my affiliation with sophomore English). But it is an American classic and a story about the struggle for people to be good. It starts off slow, but picks up speed around ch. 8. Plus, Atticus Finch is arguably one of the greatest American fictional characters (I say arguably because I know some of my English Dept. cronies would argue--that is what they do best!).

There you go. I hope that you are going on a vacation soon and can choose one of these to entertain you in your heightened state of relaxation. If not, I am sorry.