The Golden Compass

Personally, I have not read any of Pullman’s books, but I’m seriously considering it after seeing the movie. I’m stoked that kids are into these books, which from what I’ve heard, seem to be the best follow-up to the Harry Potter craze to date.

So why the big controversy? Well, it seems that authoritative groups get a little prickly about their authority being challenged. Where’s the best place to start when trying to affect widespread change? At the bottom. In this case, with the children. What the chur. . . er, I mean, Magisterium is trying to accomplish in this case is to detach children from that which gives them knowledge of the world; in other words, that which gives them the ability to think for themselves and question convention. The goal of the Magisterium is, after all, not only to rule their world, but to rule all worlds outside their own as well. Does any of this sound familiar? And perhaps just a tad biting? At one point near the beginning of the movie, a member of the Magisterium even says “… if we don’t stop this, there will always be freethinkers challenging our authority.”

Which, besides the need to fix that kid’s teeth, is pretty much the only thing that bothered me about the movie. The religious and socio-political overtones are *so* obvious that it almost feels like an insult to the over-twenty crowd. However, that’s not the crowd to which the books or movie were marketed. Which means that the kids in the theater today will someday watch this movie again as (hopefully freethinking) adults and say “Ooooh, I get it now.”

So, there’s a church-like organization in the film which represents the “bad guys.” This is why right-wing groups are in hysterics. The “don’t say anything bad about my religion/political party/pagan cult and don’t say anything good about anyone else’s” mentality is getting a little old. And if we’re being honest, the only reason these people are so upset by the depiction of the church in this film is because it’s so damn accurate.

What’s the goal of any religion? To spread it. To convert others. To take that religion and make it accepted and taught everywhere, not just in our own backyards, but every country, every continent, everywhere in the world. (Hmm, circular reference, much?) What Pullman does is expose to his audience – in this case, a very specific audience with the potential to affect real change in the world – some of the reasons why this might not always be the best thing to do.  And I, for one, applaud him for it.

I was never taught to question authority, but as I grew older I realized that those in charge were rarely the ones who cared about those being ruled over. At our most basic level, humans exist for one purpose: to promote our individual survival. Those with power have always, and will always, do whatever they can to prevent those without it from challenging the status quo. This will continue, until we learn to question, to challenge, and to demand the best for ourselves. We have become a species of sheep, content to follow and obey.

I only hope that a generation of shepherded parents don’t belittle their children into dismissing the message of these books & films. I hope that, armed with the knowledge that such a choice exists, future generations affect real change in the world around us. And what will happen if parents endeavor to raise freethinking children? True, a good proportion of those children will ultimately decide to adhere to commonly held statutes and conventions. And some will not. But guess what? They will all have made that decision on their own. And that is what will take us from sheep to shepherds.

Brain Dump

It occurs to me that I have not made any posts of any substantial value (not that any of them really are to begin with) in a very long while. So I decided to do a brain dump about some things that have been on my mind lately.

<brain dump>

First: If I read, see, or hear one more thing entitled “Oprah Admits Crying Over Abuse in Her South Africa School,” I’m going to vomit. Projectile vomit, with large chunks of half-chewed burrito. So she cried. Big. Fucking. Deal. I cry when I see a Snuggle Bear commercial on television, but I don’t go typing up press releases about it. I’m so glad she can eke out a few tears for South African kids half a world away when there are plenty of poverty-stricken, starving, abused, homeless crack babies here in America. You’re a real frickin’ philanthropist there, O.

Second: I’ve been reading an interesting book, purely for recreational reading, with no relevance at all to my actual, real, personal life, called Having an Affair?: A Handbook for the “Other Woman.” It’s written by a British author whom I swear has got to be the thickest most confused woman on the planet. And she doesn’t even live in America, if that tells you anything. Some things she has really, really right. My main complaint is her incessant insistence as to the reason men cheat on their wives: because the wives don’t work at making their men happy, because wives get fat and stop wearing makeup, and because wives let them get away with it. So basically, wives of the world, your man is required to do nothing to keep you happy for the rest of your life, but you are expected – nay, *required* – to maintain your slender physique, even post-children, smear on the war paint even if you’re staying home watching the kids, and to do whatever it takes, whenever it takes it, to make sure that your man is satisfied sexually, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically. Seriously. Read the book. But get it from the library; don’t spend money on it. A man’s happiness is everyone’s responsibility except his own. A woman’s is no one’s responsibility, not even her own. I shall now quote an actual passage from the book: “If you’re reading this and you’re a wife who suspects that her husband may be having an affair, your time would be better spent if you put this book down and started making your husband happy.” *blinkblink* BULLSHIT!

My other complaint about the book is that the author implicates that even with the aforementioned safeguards, that all married men will cheat on their wives. Without exception. Now, part of me actually believes this is probably true, but contrary to that overgeneralization, there *have* been married men I’ve known who absolutely would never cheat on their wives, regardless of circumstance. So why butcher that hope for us women? Seriously, reading this book makes me more and more depressed every time I open it. Hence why it’s taken me three weeks to read three chapters. I wouldn’t call myself a feminist, but holy shit, this woman is the most anti-feminist author I’ve ever read. Anyway. . . enough on that topic. I feel my blood pressure rising with every letter I type.

Next: I have gotten to a point where the very concept of dating turns my stomach. I actually had a date a couple of nights ago. Not a bad guy, in fact I actually like him a little, but the thought of calling, or emailing, or arranging a second date, or getting dressed up, leaving the house to see him again, absolutely repulses me. It’s not him. I just don’t want to be bothered. I simply enjoy my solitude more than I enjoy the company of someone I barely know. And I do not have the stamina for this; I do not want to spend hours upon hours “dating,” getting to know someone, only to find out that, once again, I’m not interested, or he’s not interested, or he’s interested but only if I’ll lose weight, or he’s interested but only in sex, or I’m interested only to find out he has an abnormal fixation with dead things or explosives or he’s interested but wants to take me to a porn theater on our second date or I’m interested but then he sends me text photos of himself naked. You laugh, but every single one of those scenarios has happened to me. In. Real. Life.t

Also: I’m ready to start exercising again. I ditched my diet during my vacation in July and haven’t had any luck starting up again since. Luckily, I’ve only gained three pounds back. I’m eager to start swimming again, but I think Panda and I both are getting bored with it. So I’m hoping this one-mile swim goal will motivate me a little, but I’m also looking for some new stuff to throw into the mix, especially since winter is coming on and wet hair = cold walk to the car after a swim. So, I’m thinking kickboxing looks fun, and also thinking of signing up for Weight Watcher’s meetings. Never been to the meetings before. I always just tracked everything myself. I figure I might meet some new people and it might motivate me.

Speaking loosely of vacation: only two weeks until my Thanksgiving vacation! Woot! I desperately need some time to myself. I intend to spend the entire week (except Turkey Day) in my pajamas, watching old movies and petting my cat. I don’t even intend to shower from Friday, November 16th until Thursday, November 22nd. Try me. I’ll so do it.

Random thought: I wore makeup for the SECOND day in a row today. This has got to be a record. I can’t remember the last time I wore makeup twice straight like that.

I bit a fingernail today for the first time in five weeks. It was the pinkie nail. Now my left pinkie looks so short and stubby.

</brain dump>

New Link

Added a new link to this blog, which I’ve wasted many a precious minute poring over lately.  Charming But Single captures the hilarious adventures of a Southern Singleton out there in the big, bad world of dating. I expect this will be made into a movie someday.

Guys, this is more of a girly blog, but there are definitely some insightful things in there that you should know as well.  I encourage you to scope it out.

Happy Reading!

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.  And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

               -- Elizabeth Bishop

All The Things We Think We Know

“People get the idea from books that if you have married the right person you may expect to go on ‘being in love’ forever. As a result, when they find they are not, they think this proves they made a mistake and are entitled to a change – not realizing that , when they have changed, the glamour will presently go out of the new love just as it went out of the old one. In this department of life, as in every other, thrills come at the beginning and do not last. The thrill you first felt on seeing some delightful place to live dies away when you really go to live there. Does this mean it would be better not to live there? By no means! If you go through with it, the dying away will be compensated for by a quieter and more lasting kind of interest.” – C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity

I’ve been questioning lately the nature of a lot of things, but none so much as love.  Though it’s been a while since I’ve read Mere Christianity, I think Lewis is right; that real love is what’s left over after the starlight and moonbeams fade away.  That’s nothing new.  But what is the nature of those leftovers?  Is it complacency?  Is it friendship?  Is it mutual respect and compassion?  Is it nothing more passionate than mere companionship?  Or is it just different for everyone?

Sometimes I think maybe we skipped the whole starlight and moonbeams phase and just went straight to the leftovers.  We’re exceptionally honest with each other.  And comfort, a lot of comfort there.  I don’t know the sum of comfort and honesty.  Whatever it is, it’s a relief just to have stopped looking and not being so lonely all the time.  I think we both definitely need a break from lonely.

This is not to say that I’m progressing through the whole psychotically-clingy girl  process of pondering “where we’re going” or “what path we’re on.”  I’m not looking any farther ahead than this night, right now.  But just to have something to put my back up against, someone to care about, someone I can pick up the phone and call, is nice for a change.  Lonesome = bad.

Maybe that’s all it is, and possibly that’s all it will ever be.  But it’s enough for now, and for now is all we have.  No day but today.

Surrealism

I spend an increasing amount of time alone lately. I seem to have more and more people in my life, and I’ve gone out with several guys trying to find “that one,” but they all turn up empty. None of them compare. And none of them can offer what I want. So. . . alone I am and alone I will stay. I will embrace it and accept it and, moreover, pursue it.

So I took my book to the Falls today, found a nice secluded rock and read for a long while. I’ve always thought that if I was going to find God, I would find Him at the Falls. But something happened while I was there reading today. In my book, I was reading about the debates between “old-earth” creationists and “young-earth” creationists. Here I am, reading an argument that insists the Earth is no more than 10,000 years old, and wanting to believe it, thinking I could potentially believe it, and then I just stop reading. I look down at the rock to my right, and there, on top of all the patterns petrified into the giant rock on which I sat, is a small fossil resembling a bone or vertebrae of an unidentifiable creature that no doubt lived long, long, long, long ago. Then I start looking around, and these shapes, shells, bones, etc, are staring back at me from every inch of this rock on which I am sitting.

And I reminded myself to question everything. Sure, perhaps these fossils weren’t more than 10,000 years old, but it reminded me that there is irrefutable proof that the Earth has existed for billions of years. And stars and planets. . . by the time their light reaches our sky, it is millions of years old. By the time we see them, many of them are already burned out. The more I go on, the easier it become to rationalize the faith that I’m seeking and the easier it becomes to almost believe. But there’s always a part of me pulling me back and checking the facts, keeping me honest and accountable. I will not subscribe to a belief I do not understand.

That being said, alone isn’t all that bad. As long as I have a book, I don’t ever feel alone, really. And maybe in this one, I’ll find that I’m really not.

My Biography by A Complete Stranger

Dude! Someone wrote a book about me!!

Which is a nice segway into the purpose of this entry.

I have been accused, as I knew I would sooner or later, of pursuing this spiritual journey only because of the unfathomable amount of affection I harbor for the man who set me back on the path. Of course, this was said only in passing, and in a moment of extreme anger, but as I figured the issue would arise at some point and time, I feel the need to address it.

I have never, and will never, denied or falsely claimed beliefs or values to appease or impress ANYONE. My convictions are mine completely, and I have actually ended several relationships due to another’s inability to accept or respect them as they are. It would be an injustice to me and to the other to pretend to believe something I don’t just to win them over.

That being said, what I credit this man with is his passionate and articulate way of communicating his own beliefs to me in a way that I have never heard. His unwavering passion and commitment to his faith have prompted me to pick back up a journey that abandoned years ago and had contentedly forgotten. I don’t know where I’m going to end up. If it is where he is, that would be great. But if it is somewhere else, then that is where I will be.

The desire to pursue this quest existed in me long before I met this person and will continue long after we have moved on from here, though I hope that never happens. This search is mine and mine alone. He did not start this fire. He only rekindled the coals that have been simmering for too many long, painful years, and now he fans those flames when they start to die. That is all. And I have found more faith and comfort in my life since I have picked back up this search than I ever had when I was trying to do it all alone. There has to be something in that.

He is my motivator, my guide, my touchstone. But I do not (and he will attest to this) readily believe everything he believes just to placate him, and I never will. As I told him, if and when I believe the things he does, it will be because God has come into my heart and shown me that those things are true. It will not be for him, or for anyone else on this earth.

There’s nothing else to be said in defense of my decision and desire to pick back up where I left off spiritually. It is what it is.