Thursday, January 27, 2011
House Smitten
Kevin and I have found a house with which we are (in theory) in love! On paper, everything is what we need, though not without some sacrifice, and I am already painting and decorating it in my imagination. We go to see the builder on Saturday. I hope it is everything I have dreamed. Building takes 4-6 months, and we only have 4, so it had better be what we want!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Gifted
For Christmas this year, Kevin set up my iPod for me. I have had it for two years and have never changed the songs from the ones programmed onto it by my mother, its first user. Kevin saved those songs to my computer, downloaded iTunes, ripped all of my CDs to my computer and uploaded a play list of Christmas songs to my iPod. He then taught me how to do it all, too.
It was the perfect gift! It was something I had wanted for a long time, but hadn't done. It was an act of service that required time and thought, not money, and we even spent time together while he instructed me in the ways of iTunes. It was exactly the way Christmas should be.
Kevin has been routinely good at giving presents, consistently topping me in the gift arena. I just panic until it's too late to do anything. I skipped his 30th birthday entirely. What a wife! I am determined now to be better, to be more like he is, showing thought and care with gifts. And I face my next challenge in March for our anniversary. Unless I am expected to do something for Valentine's Day. Yikes!
It was the perfect gift! It was something I had wanted for a long time, but hadn't done. It was an act of service that required time and thought, not money, and we even spent time together while he instructed me in the ways of iTunes. It was exactly the way Christmas should be.
Kevin has been routinely good at giving presents, consistently topping me in the gift arena. I just panic until it's too late to do anything. I skipped his 30th birthday entirely. What a wife! I am determined now to be better, to be more like he is, showing thought and care with gifts. And I face my next challenge in March for our anniversary. Unless I am expected to do something for Valentine's Day. Yikes!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Depression Threshold
I have a theory that everyone has a "depression threshold" similar to an allergen threshold. We can take so many factors that cause depression before symptoms show or begin to take hold. If we can reduce those factors below our threshold, then we can control our moods. Chemical imbalances are one of those things that will overcome our threshold almost guaranteed, and medication is the way to decrease that factor.
For me, I could not change the source of what ailed me, but I could decrease all the little things that hurt my mood and increase those that helped, to better get my net depressive intake below threshold.
And it's working. I think sometimes I am right at that threshold, and one sad movie will push me over the edge (e.g. Kevin made me stop watching Everybody's Fine, when I began sobbing on his lap). But as long as I am below my threshold, in control of my mood, then I can be in control of my thoughts and actions.
I take special care to get enough sleep. I should take care to get enough water, but I am usually tipped off by grouchiness when I have not done this diligently. I try to stay productive and mentally engaged. I listen to music every day, thanks in large part to Kevin's wonderful Christmas present!
I felt, at first, like I was simply waving something shiny in front of my eyes, constantly distracting myself from dark thoughts of worthlessness and those fearsome monsters that lurked under my bed. I put on blinders and kept focusing with all my might on the shiny thing. If I got tired and dropped my guard, then I felt bombarded by the waiting fears. I wondered if I was practicing avoidance and not actually accomplishing anything productive. But that was at first.
Now, I am not constantly on guard, and I don't have to wave something shiny to keep myself distracted. I have filled my home and life with shiny things, small but pleasant, that genuinely make me happy. And if I come across some trigger that brings on depressive thoughts, I am not drowned in sorrow. I ache still, but I am strong enough to challenge the thoughts that I had to avoid at first.
I am strengthening my emotional muscles using very little weight but constant repetition. I keep it at a level where I can stay in control. And then, when I have those heavier burdens to carry, I believe I will be able to do so a little better for a little longer. And with a little better attitude.
For me, I could not change the source of what ailed me, but I could decrease all the little things that hurt my mood and increase those that helped, to better get my net depressive intake below threshold.
And it's working. I think sometimes I am right at that threshold, and one sad movie will push me over the edge (e.g. Kevin made me stop watching Everybody's Fine, when I began sobbing on his lap). But as long as I am below my threshold, in control of my mood, then I can be in control of my thoughts and actions.
I take special care to get enough sleep. I should take care to get enough water, but I am usually tipped off by grouchiness when I have not done this diligently. I try to stay productive and mentally engaged. I listen to music every day, thanks in large part to Kevin's wonderful Christmas present!
I felt, at first, like I was simply waving something shiny in front of my eyes, constantly distracting myself from dark thoughts of worthlessness and those fearsome monsters that lurked under my bed. I put on blinders and kept focusing with all my might on the shiny thing. If I got tired and dropped my guard, then I felt bombarded by the waiting fears. I wondered if I was practicing avoidance and not actually accomplishing anything productive. But that was at first.
Now, I am not constantly on guard, and I don't have to wave something shiny to keep myself distracted. I have filled my home and life with shiny things, small but pleasant, that genuinely make me happy. And if I come across some trigger that brings on depressive thoughts, I am not drowned in sorrow. I ache still, but I am strong enough to challenge the thoughts that I had to avoid at first.
I am strengthening my emotional muscles using very little weight but constant repetition. I keep it at a level where I can stay in control. And then, when I have those heavier burdens to carry, I believe I will be able to do so a little better for a little longer. And with a little better attitude.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Incredible Edible Egg
Since my refusal to take medication for depression, I have been eating eggs for breakfast every morning, instead of the decades-long habit of cereal. The reason for the change? Several articles citing food allergies, more specifically dairy, as causes of depression. Then there were articles on foods that aid moods. Folic acid is more effective in treating mild depression than anti-depressants and placebos. Granted, this only holds true for mild depression, not moderate or severe. Magnesium is good, sugar is bad, and omega-3 fatty acids are great. Thus the great breakfast swap of 2010.
For the first month, I had two eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast with a glass of orange juice. When my weight started slipping upward, I reconsidered. I had, after all, exchanged 110 calories of Special K and almost no fat for roughly 350 calories and over 16 grams of fat. I may have thoroughly enjoyed toast with butter and jam, but I was eating too much. When I had eaten eggs only rarely, I didn't much notice how much larger my breakfast was.
So I cut back. I eat one egg, runny, with a pieces of whole-wheat bread, plain, and a glass of orange juice. My intake is about 210 calories and 8 grams of fat.
I did not notice the effects of the eggs, at least not as such. I did notice that I am in general in better control of my moods. Granted, I instituted a great many changes, all of which have helped. I also noticed that my monthly was getting lighter and lighter. But I did not attribute any of this to the magic of eggs. Until I ran out.
I ate cereal two days in a row. My stomach rebelled. My energy lagged. My mood soured. My body had been healing from repeated exposure to an allergen, and then I reintroduced it. I now know that I am not equipped to consume dairy the way I had been. I am now sensitive to a glass of milk. Occasionally, I will still eat a bowl of Quaker Oatmeal Squares for dessert, but I notice the negative results now.
I also recently read this article on CNN that explained my lessening symptoms.
And so, I have become converted. An egg a day keeps the blues away. And I just can't get enough of runny yolk.
For the first month, I had two eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast with a glass of orange juice. When my weight started slipping upward, I reconsidered. I had, after all, exchanged 110 calories of Special K and almost no fat for roughly 350 calories and over 16 grams of fat. I may have thoroughly enjoyed toast with butter and jam, but I was eating too much. When I had eaten eggs only rarely, I didn't much notice how much larger my breakfast was.
So I cut back. I eat one egg, runny, with a pieces of whole-wheat bread, plain, and a glass of orange juice. My intake is about 210 calories and 8 grams of fat.
I did not notice the effects of the eggs, at least not as such. I did notice that I am in general in better control of my moods. Granted, I instituted a great many changes, all of which have helped. I also noticed that my monthly was getting lighter and lighter. But I did not attribute any of this to the magic of eggs. Until I ran out.
I ate cereal two days in a row. My stomach rebelled. My energy lagged. My mood soured. My body had been healing from repeated exposure to an allergen, and then I reintroduced it. I now know that I am not equipped to consume dairy the way I had been. I am now sensitive to a glass of milk. Occasionally, I will still eat a bowl of Quaker Oatmeal Squares for dessert, but I notice the negative results now.
I also recently read this article on CNN that explained my lessening symptoms.
And so, I have become converted. An egg a day keeps the blues away. And I just can't get enough of runny yolk.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Vin
I have a new car! Her name is Vin, named after the heroine of the Mistborn trilogy, not to mention a clever car pun. Get it?
I was asked at work what my favorite feature is, and I felt momentarily stumped. When I think of features on a car, I think of things that my reliable little Corolla does not possess. Sun roof, six CD changer, blue tooth, GPS, etc. After my brief pause, I answered, "My favorite thing about my car is that I don't have to spend 15 minutes waiting on the corner before I can go anywhere."
I guess that would be the ignition. My ignition is my favorite feature of my car. Followed by the steering wheel. I love that I don't have to follow a predetermined path to and from work. I can go wherever I want in my Vin. I am also quite fond of the accelerator. I don't have to stop every block, and I can go upwards of seventy-five miles per hour to get home at the end of the day. And I love my CD player and pre-programmed radio.
But mostly, I love it because it is mine.
I was asked at work what my favorite feature is, and I felt momentarily stumped. When I think of features on a car, I think of things that my reliable little Corolla does not possess. Sun roof, six CD changer, blue tooth, GPS, etc. After my brief pause, I answered, "My favorite thing about my car is that I don't have to spend 15 minutes waiting on the corner before I can go anywhere."
I guess that would be the ignition. My ignition is my favorite feature of my car. Followed by the steering wheel. I love that I don't have to follow a predetermined path to and from work. I can go wherever I want in my Vin. I am also quite fond of the accelerator. I don't have to stop every block, and I can go upwards of seventy-five miles per hour to get home at the end of the day. And I love my CD player and pre-programmed radio.
But mostly, I love it because it is mine.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
New Year's Resolution
My New Year's Resolution is to be better at time management. I have so many things that I want to do and cannot find the time for, whereas I do very little that I actually enjoy with the time I have. I determined, in getting a car, and thus more free time, that I should make the most of it. That I should use most of it. No more time wasting for me. That's my resolve.
This entails dozens of smaller goals.
I compare it to money management. If I had resolved to manage my money better, I would have started by making a budget, reviewing necessary expenses, typical uses of money and where I can save and what the savings should be used for. A budget leads to dozens of little goals: spend less on eating out (which leads to making food at home), save this much per month toward a new car, set up weekly transfers to my savings from my checking, etc.
The same it true for my time management goal. I started with a budget. Where does my time go? Is it necessary? Is there something of higher priority that ought to use that time instead? My little goals became daily scripture study, daily exercise, saving Wednesday evenings for writing only and reallocating the typical use of it to another evening, etc. I have a color-coded schedule of my ideal week, how I would use my time to perfectly reflect my goals were I to possess the self-discipline and no distractions--though, I did include room for unforeseen events.
The task looks impossible. I do not spend my time like that now. But I hope to be much closer by December of this year. That's the point: it's a goal not an immediate transformation. And like with a budget, I will not throw the whole thing out the window if I slip up and clean the kitchen tonight instead of writing. I will do better tomorrow.
As part of good goal setting, I have constructed a plan to meet this goal. I have selected a focus for each month, a sub-goal that I will dedicate my attention to fitting into place, even if the others slip a little. Hopefully, each month will build a habit that will continue to the next; but if not, I have selected only six focuses, so I will come back and repeat the experience within the year. This month I will focus on making sure I read scriptures daily. It is a priority goal for me that I never seem to have time for. This month, it will happen. Daily.
I also have a project this month: to edit and print the pictures we've taken since the cruise and put them into an album. This way, when I come to some free time and consider wasting it because I haven't made a plan for how to best use it, I can fall back to editing pictures.
Next month my focus will be on exercising, and my project will be working on food storage.
This entails dozens of smaller goals.
I compare it to money management. If I had resolved to manage my money better, I would have started by making a budget, reviewing necessary expenses, typical uses of money and where I can save and what the savings should be used for. A budget leads to dozens of little goals: spend less on eating out (which leads to making food at home), save this much per month toward a new car, set up weekly transfers to my savings from my checking, etc.
The same it true for my time management goal. I started with a budget. Where does my time go? Is it necessary? Is there something of higher priority that ought to use that time instead? My little goals became daily scripture study, daily exercise, saving Wednesday evenings for writing only and reallocating the typical use of it to another evening, etc. I have a color-coded schedule of my ideal week, how I would use my time to perfectly reflect my goals were I to possess the self-discipline and no distractions--though, I did include room for unforeseen events.
The task looks impossible. I do not spend my time like that now. But I hope to be much closer by December of this year. That's the point: it's a goal not an immediate transformation. And like with a budget, I will not throw the whole thing out the window if I slip up and clean the kitchen tonight instead of writing. I will do better tomorrow.
As part of good goal setting, I have constructed a plan to meet this goal. I have selected a focus for each month, a sub-goal that I will dedicate my attention to fitting into place, even if the others slip a little. Hopefully, each month will build a habit that will continue to the next; but if not, I have selected only six focuses, so I will come back and repeat the experience within the year. This month I will focus on making sure I read scriptures daily. It is a priority goal for me that I never seem to have time for. This month, it will happen. Daily.
I also have a project this month: to edit and print the pictures we've taken since the cruise and put them into an album. This way, when I come to some free time and consider wasting it because I haven't made a plan for how to best use it, I can fall back to editing pictures.
Next month my focus will be on exercising, and my project will be working on food storage.
Costco
Yesterday, I had to stop by the store on the way home. I had to, if I wanted breakfast the next morning. I also had a hefty stack of coupons in my pocket for Costco, so I decided that I would go there, even if it was more out of the way, and stock up on paper towels and other bulk non-perishable items. Truth be told, I was a little distracted by my phone call with Emilie, with whom I talked as I roamed the aisles. When I got to the check-out stand and placed by coupons on the conveyor belt, I got a look of deepest contempt.
"The coupons start Thursday," she said...and rolled her eyes.
Sure enough the date was right across the top of each in bold green letters. I sheepishly told her to remove several items from the cart, pocketed the coupons, paid my bill, and planned to return Thursday. To a different check-out lane.
"The coupons start Thursday," she said...and rolled her eyes.
Sure enough the date was right across the top of each in bold green letters. I sheepishly told her to remove several items from the cart, pocketed the coupons, paid my bill, and planned to return Thursday. To a different check-out lane.
Friday, December 24, 2010
friends
I went through my Facebook account and removed friends that I do not know/like. Today, Beulah apparently noticed and requested my friendship. I hated to be passive aggressive and ignore her, but how to tell someone, I just don't want to be your friend!
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
changes
I need to make changes. Again.
I managed to create for myself a working structured environment while Kevin was gone, but his return has shattered it completely. Don't get me wrong: I would rather have Kevin home. Nevertheless, I have several more distractions, and several fewer freedoms than when he was overseas.
Basically, everything I had hope for in "on the plus side" played out as I foresaw, or better. I slept 9 hours every night. I watched less than 2 hours of TV/movies a week: 40 minutes of Castle, 40 minutes of Glee, and 20 minutes of Psych. Once there was 20 minutes of Community, but that was it. I studied scriptures regularly. Driving made the most difference, doubling my lunch break (during which time I caught up on phone calls or naps), providing an environment in which to listen to music, and getting me home and hour and a half early.
My challenge is how to continue on with all the good changes I made now that Kevin is home and I am using my more limited free time to pursue activities that I didn't while he was gone: such as talking with him, cleaning the kitchen, and showering. I have taken to skipping lunch entirely just so I can take an earlier bus and get home before six. I found it too demoralizing on my first day back on the bus to get home only two hours before bed. I am feeling too stretched, and my continued work on a Relief Society planning committee is overwhelming me.
I need a car, for its magical time-granting powers, and I need to make the time I have more productive. That is my project: to find ways to maximize my time.
Wish me luck.
I managed to create for myself a working structured environment while Kevin was gone, but his return has shattered it completely. Don't get me wrong: I would rather have Kevin home. Nevertheless, I have several more distractions, and several fewer freedoms than when he was overseas.
Basically, everything I had hope for in "on the plus side" played out as I foresaw, or better. I slept 9 hours every night. I watched less than 2 hours of TV/movies a week: 40 minutes of Castle, 40 minutes of Glee, and 20 minutes of Psych. Once there was 20 minutes of Community, but that was it. I studied scriptures regularly. Driving made the most difference, doubling my lunch break (during which time I caught up on phone calls or naps), providing an environment in which to listen to music, and getting me home and hour and a half early.
My challenge is how to continue on with all the good changes I made now that Kevin is home and I am using my more limited free time to pursue activities that I didn't while he was gone: such as talking with him, cleaning the kitchen, and showering. I have taken to skipping lunch entirely just so I can take an earlier bus and get home before six. I found it too demoralizing on my first day back on the bus to get home only two hours before bed. I am feeling too stretched, and my continued work on a Relief Society planning committee is overwhelming me.
I need a car, for its magical time-granting powers, and I need to make the time I have more productive. That is my project: to find ways to maximize my time.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
what kevin doesn't know won't kill me
Kevin didn't know that I was already having a bad day on Tuesday, that I was tired and that the book I was reading made me sad. He didn't know that I cried in the car that night on the drive back. He doesn't know why I wept on his chest when we got home. I was too tired to tell him, and feminine throat cutting is too subtle for men to appreciate. Likely he didn't notice Beulah being mean, and he definitely couldn't have anticipated the plummet of my thoughts from there to the little mush of sadness I felt myself afterward.
He did know that I had a bad day yesterday, one that--now rested--I want to write off as being the result of two bad nights. He doesn't know, however, that I sobbed myself to sleep when I got home. He bought me flowers and encouraged me to talk, but I was cried out and mostly asleep even while he spoke. And then, this morning, I was not sad: I had done my crying and had a full night's rest. My inadequacies, my fears, my insecurities, my sorrows, were held at bay again by a good mood. And that makes it all the more likely that Kevin will never know what set me off on Tuesday and why it brought me down.
I have a habit of viewing everything through the lens of my current mood, which rather invalidates past emotions. Today I am not sad and Beulah's pettiness is reason for pity not anger: perhaps she is trying not to be antagonistic, but to be important; perhaps she is lonely and overlooked. So, today, I find ridiculous and weak my sorrows of last night. I feel I have gotten over it, and the reasons why I felt that way to begin with are of no more value. I am embarrassed that I fell apart, so I don't want to dredge it up and tell him why I hurt; I am ashamed.
He did know that I had a bad day yesterday, one that--now rested--I want to write off as being the result of two bad nights. He doesn't know, however, that I sobbed myself to sleep when I got home. He bought me flowers and encouraged me to talk, but I was cried out and mostly asleep even while he spoke. And then, this morning, I was not sad: I had done my crying and had a full night's rest. My inadequacies, my fears, my insecurities, my sorrows, were held at bay again by a good mood. And that makes it all the more likely that Kevin will never know what set me off on Tuesday and why it brought me down.
I have a habit of viewing everything through the lens of my current mood, which rather invalidates past emotions. Today I am not sad and Beulah's pettiness is reason for pity not anger: perhaps she is trying not to be antagonistic, but to be important; perhaps she is lonely and overlooked. So, today, I find ridiculous and weak my sorrows of last night. I feel I have gotten over it, and the reasons why I felt that way to begin with are of no more value. I am embarrassed that I fell apart, so I don't want to dredge it up and tell him why I hurt; I am ashamed.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
kid gloves and retractible claws
The intent of this post is not to gossip, therefore I will give the subject a fake name. Let's call her Beulah, my father's favorite made up name for women of a certain calibre. Because I'm feeling mean.
Beulah and Kevin became friends during 2008, the year in which I returned to Utah to finish my degree. When I moved back, Beulah treated me like the latest fling of her life-long best friend. I was a temporary distraction who could never know him like she did. Of course I took issue with this. Not only had I been around for over four years before her, but also I did not move there without certain promises of a future. I wasn't new, I wasn't leaving, and I was not playing second fiddle.
From the start of our acquaintance, she talked about how much Kevin confided in her and how she'd love --if she could ever get his permission-- to share with me what he said. There it was, her line the sand: Kevin and Beulah on one side, me on the other. She likes to say that she was on my side, angry at Kevin for not proposing and ready to spill all his secrets to me, but that wasn't the case. Never was she rooting for me, and what she failed to grasp is that Kevin and I were on the same side of any drawn line. One was either with or against us, but never in between.
There were enough people opposed to Kevin and me getting back together that I have learned not to hold a grudge for that. But I do still resent Beulah. I have tried not to. I am grateful to her for rides from the airport, taking our engagement photos for free, and for being a familiar face on days when that is what is needed most. But my gratitude is insufficient to make up for her continued possessiveness of my boyfriend, then fiance, and now husband.
Last night, Kevin's friend from BYU, Michelle, came into town and Kevin, Beulah and I drove an hour to go have dinner with her. I had never met her and found her delightful. Energetic for so late (8:30 p.m.) but pleasant.
(Side note: she lives in San Diego. I should set her up with Nora.)
Beulah was not delightful, though she started out innocuous enough. She told several entertaining dating stories, including one with the moral that you shouldn't judge a boy for not calling, because he just may have cancer. Kevin then gazed mournfully off into space and lamented that he didn't have any dating stories this year. I laughed.
Then Beulah said Kevin used to have some pretty interesting dating stories but she isn't allowed to tell.
I did not laugh at that. I couldn't: my head had just exploded. Her little comments infuriated me: about not hanging out with Kevin as much anymore, about how watching "How I Met Your Mother" after FHE was their thing, how she heard his side of the story, how long it took him to propose, etc.. They built up in my head until I was ready to scream.
Get your claws the hell out of my husband! Stop flirting, stop staking claim, and stop pretending you were on "my" side when I know very well that you told him to move on. You wanna-be home wrecker, wake up to the fact that he chose me, will always choose me. I was there first; I know him more intimately than you do; and our thing on Monday night is not watching TV.
But I said...
"Beulah, do you really think that he hasn't told me everything he ever told you?"
I said it politely, with kid gloves on, so no stunned or awkward silences followed; but I said in it all the things I was thinking. It said, I will not pretend that I didn't win.
Beulah and Kevin became friends during 2008, the year in which I returned to Utah to finish my degree. When I moved back, Beulah treated me like the latest fling of her life-long best friend. I was a temporary distraction who could never know him like she did. Of course I took issue with this. Not only had I been around for over four years before her, but also I did not move there without certain promises of a future. I wasn't new, I wasn't leaving, and I was not playing second fiddle.
From the start of our acquaintance, she talked about how much Kevin confided in her and how she'd love --if she could ever get his permission-- to share with me what he said. There it was, her line the sand: Kevin and Beulah on one side, me on the other. She likes to say that she was on my side, angry at Kevin for not proposing and ready to spill all his secrets to me, but that wasn't the case. Never was she rooting for me, and what she failed to grasp is that Kevin and I were on the same side of any drawn line. One was either with or against us, but never in between.
There were enough people opposed to Kevin and me getting back together that I have learned not to hold a grudge for that. But I do still resent Beulah. I have tried not to. I am grateful to her for rides from the airport, taking our engagement photos for free, and for being a familiar face on days when that is what is needed most. But my gratitude is insufficient to make up for her continued possessiveness of my boyfriend, then fiance, and now husband.
Last night, Kevin's friend from BYU, Michelle, came into town and Kevin, Beulah and I drove an hour to go have dinner with her. I had never met her and found her delightful. Energetic for so late (8:30 p.m.) but pleasant.
(Side note: she lives in San Diego. I should set her up with Nora.)
Beulah was not delightful, though she started out innocuous enough. She told several entertaining dating stories, including one with the moral that you shouldn't judge a boy for not calling, because he just may have cancer. Kevin then gazed mournfully off into space and lamented that he didn't have any dating stories this year. I laughed.
Then Beulah said Kevin used to have some pretty interesting dating stories but she isn't allowed to tell.
I did not laugh at that. I couldn't: my head had just exploded. Her little comments infuriated me: about not hanging out with Kevin as much anymore, about how watching "How I Met Your Mother" after FHE was their thing, how she heard his side of the story, how long it took him to propose, etc.. They built up in my head until I was ready to scream.
Get your claws the hell out of my husband! Stop flirting, stop staking claim, and stop pretending you were on "my" side when I know very well that you told him to move on. You wanna-be home wrecker, wake up to the fact that he chose me, will always choose me. I was there first; I know him more intimately than you do; and our thing on Monday night is not watching TV.
But I said...
"Beulah, do you really think that he hasn't told me everything he ever told you?"
I said it politely, with kid gloves on, so no stunned or awkward silences followed; but I said in it all the things I was thinking. It said, I will not pretend that I didn't win.
Friday, November 26, 2010
all I want for christmas
I have lost my ongoing battle against consumerism. I fell into the trap of Black Friday specials, and the argument, "but it's on sale." Christmas suddenly became for me just another shopping trip. Kevin bought his own presents, so I don't even have the anticipation of giving to others. I feel thoroughly disenchanted by presents, except the one to Nora from the family. What disappointed me was my uncustomary greediness and simultaneous lack of self. I looked at good deals and decided what I could want, instead of taking the time to really want something that I would value. I will enjoy the assortment of movies I'll open Christmas morning, especially The Philadelphia Story that I have wanted, but I don't anticipate any of it.
What helped a lot is that Kevin bought us a Christmas tree, and he and I listened to Christmas music while assembling it. The Nativity is out, and a party is planned. These are the things I want for Christmas: friends, music, food, etc. In short, I need to foster all the warmth of celebration and forget the cold draw of materialism.
PS- This entry looks terribly ungrateful. I did not mean to complain that I am getting gifts. I like what I am getting. I was just feeling badly for being focused on presents instead of people.
What helped a lot is that Kevin bought us a Christmas tree, and he and I listened to Christmas music while assembling it. The Nativity is out, and a party is planned. These are the things I want for Christmas: friends, music, food, etc. In short, I need to foster all the warmth of celebration and forget the cold draw of materialism.
PS- This entry looks terribly ungrateful. I did not mean to complain that I am getting gifts. I like what I am getting. I was just feeling badly for being focused on presents instead of people.
Friday, November 19, 2010
dracula's women
Book Club was awesome Tuesday night. I was my typical awkward self, not talking to anyone when I got there. But then we began on the book, and I had trouble shutting up. Only half of us had finished the book, so there was a fill-everyone-in period. Then we began discussions such as why vampires are such popular figures in fiction, the juxtaposition of Mina and Lucy, the role of Renfield the lunatic, the efficacy of the epistolary narrative, the "rules" of vampires. Yes, Buffy was brought into the conversation, as was Twilight. I loved all the characters, but the comparison of the two female protagonists caught my interest most, perhaps.
Lucy and Mina.
Lucy is "the perfect woman." She receives three proposals in one day. She is perfectly beautiful, perfectly sweet, perfectly perfect. Perfectly BORING. She is the typical Victorian woman, with fainting spells and no gumption. When she starts wasting away of some unknown disease, Dr. Abraham Van Helsing (please say it with a very strong Dutch accent, or it just doesn't count) is called in to be of assistance. He figures out that Dracula is draining her. Over a short period of time, she is given four transfusions--one from each of her admirers, and then from the good Doctor himself--but dies anyway. She turns into a vampire, the four men hunt her, and her fiance has the quite gruesome work of killing her. Quite. Gruesome.
Then they meet Mina, childhood friend of Lucy and wife to recently-escaped intended victim of the Count. Mina is described as having "the mind of a man, and the heart of a woman." She is self-educated and quick-witted, along with being young, pretty and compassionate. She says of herself that she has never been a fainter, or one taken to weeping. Mina uses her husband's diary to aid the vampire hunters, transcribing it from shorthand. She compiles all the varying accounts in chronological order so that she can discern cause and effect. She stands her ground against lunatic Renfield. She and Dr. Van Helsing are the brains of the operation, while the other four men tend to be the muscles. Dracula bites her and forces her to drink his blood, thus gaining mental control over her. However, Mina continues to be vital to the group and figures out that if Van Helsing hypnotizes her, she can read the Count's mind for them. Because of this usefulness, when the men hunt him back to his castle, she goes too. In the final battle, Mina draws a revolver. Yeah, she was toting.
Basically, I love Mina.
Dracula is considered a commentary on Victorian views of sexuality, with the exchanging of blood being a sensual act, etc. In this light, I find these two women to be the height of interest, how Bram Stoker chose to depict my gender. I get the brides of Dracula being voluptuous, sensual and catty; and I get that he would depict the virtuous Lucy opposite them, thus making the post-mortem transformation that much more horrible.
However, I wonder at Mina. Mina, who is revered by the men who know her as having every positive attribute. She is honorable and compassionate, wise and kind. She is called beautiful. But she, too, is bitten by the Count in a scene that can be likened to one of rape. She becomes Unclean and is burned by the Eucharist. Only the Count's death can remove this stigma from her. Yet, she continues to be a power for good, and is Bram Stoker's only female character to show true grit. While the oft-repeated remark that she has the mind of a man may be seen as insulting, it was meant complimentary, followed the first time by the addendum, "or as a man ought to have."
I think, given Mina, that Bram was a feminist. For Mina and Lucy had purity in common, but the one who lived also had a brain.
That, and a gun.
Additional note of interest: Dracula doesn't glitter in the sunlight, but he can go out in it. And when he dies, he turns to dust. One point, Buffy; half point Twilight.
Lucy and Mina.
Lucy is "the perfect woman." She receives three proposals in one day. She is perfectly beautiful, perfectly sweet, perfectly perfect. Perfectly BORING. She is the typical Victorian woman, with fainting spells and no gumption. When she starts wasting away of some unknown disease, Dr. Abraham Van Helsing (please say it with a very strong Dutch accent, or it just doesn't count) is called in to be of assistance. He figures out that Dracula is draining her. Over a short period of time, she is given four transfusions--one from each of her admirers, and then from the good Doctor himself--but dies anyway. She turns into a vampire, the four men hunt her, and her fiance has the quite gruesome work of killing her. Quite. Gruesome.
Then they meet Mina, childhood friend of Lucy and wife to recently-escaped intended victim of the Count. Mina is described as having "the mind of a man, and the heart of a woman." She is self-educated and quick-witted, along with being young, pretty and compassionate. She says of herself that she has never been a fainter, or one taken to weeping. Mina uses her husband's diary to aid the vampire hunters, transcribing it from shorthand. She compiles all the varying accounts in chronological order so that she can discern cause and effect. She stands her ground against lunatic Renfield. She and Dr. Van Helsing are the brains of the operation, while the other four men tend to be the muscles. Dracula bites her and forces her to drink his blood, thus gaining mental control over her. However, Mina continues to be vital to the group and figures out that if Van Helsing hypnotizes her, she can read the Count's mind for them. Because of this usefulness, when the men hunt him back to his castle, she goes too. In the final battle, Mina draws a revolver. Yeah, she was toting.
Basically, I love Mina.
Dracula is considered a commentary on Victorian views of sexuality, with the exchanging of blood being a sensual act, etc. In this light, I find these two women to be the height of interest, how Bram Stoker chose to depict my gender. I get the brides of Dracula being voluptuous, sensual and catty; and I get that he would depict the virtuous Lucy opposite them, thus making the post-mortem transformation that much more horrible.
However, I wonder at Mina. Mina, who is revered by the men who know her as having every positive attribute. She is honorable and compassionate, wise and kind. She is called beautiful. But she, too, is bitten by the Count in a scene that can be likened to one of rape. She becomes Unclean and is burned by the Eucharist. Only the Count's death can remove this stigma from her. Yet, she continues to be a power for good, and is Bram Stoker's only female character to show true grit. While the oft-repeated remark that she has the mind of a man may be seen as insulting, it was meant complimentary, followed the first time by the addendum, "or as a man ought to have."
I think, given Mina, that Bram was a feminist. For Mina and Lucy had purity in common, but the one who lived also had a brain.
That, and a gun.
Additional note of interest: Dracula doesn't glitter in the sunlight, but he can go out in it. And when he dies, he turns to dust. One point, Buffy; half point Twilight.
Monday, November 15, 2010
compliments
Audrei and her roommate Christa came over to bring me pie yesterday. Just because they are nice. While visiting, Audrei mentioned that she had driven Liza and Pinky (self-assigned nickname because of her pink hair) to church. When Audrei told Liza that they would be sitting with me, Liza turned to Pinky and said, "I can't wait for you to meet her! She's one of the most beautiful girls I know!"
Nice of course, but it was immediately followed by Christa adding, "It's true. I was really intimidated by you when we met, because of how pretty you are."
I'm totally flattered. I intimidated someone!
Nice of course, but it was immediately followed by Christa adding, "It's true. I was really intimidated by you when we met, because of how pretty you are."
I'm totally flattered. I intimidated someone!
Friday, November 12, 2010
marginal
I am writing a scene for my book wherein a character attends and does well in an economics class, thus learning a passion for the subject. I am struggling, however, to show the conversation that leads to her awakening, as the subject matter is a little dense to insert into casual conversation.
I just need to use the phrase "sunk costs are irrelevant."
I just need to use the phrase "sunk costs are irrelevant."
Monday, November 08, 2010
mum's the word
A couple of weeks ago, I invited some friends of mine to form a writing circle with me, and one of them has shown true enthusiasm for the idea. She went so far as to reach out to find others to join us. I got an email yesterday saying that she had recruited one K. F.
Oh boy.
Though I have never mentioned her by name on this blog, she certainly has been written about. You might remember her as the blond Kevin dated once. Since that time, I have become better acquainted with her. She was my Relief Society president for over a year. I know more about her than I did then, and I am struggling to find a tactful way to say, "I've changed my mind about the writing circle, because I kind of hate that condescending blond." I will not share my writing with her.
My writing is personal.
Oh boy.
Though I have never mentioned her by name on this blog, she certainly has been written about. You might remember her as the blond Kevin dated once. Since that time, I have become better acquainted with her. She was my Relief Society president for over a year. I know more about her than I did then, and I am struggling to find a tactful way to say, "I've changed my mind about the writing circle, because I kind of hate that condescending blond." I will not share my writing with her.
My writing is personal.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
book clubs
As of this afternoon, I am participating in two book clubs. The first is being set up by a woman my age for the "newly marrieds" she knows. Since everyone is so busy, we will meet every other month and the hostess picks the book. Fine. But...it is my experience that new book clubs fall apart quickly, because the interest is social and fleeting. The purpose of this is for the newly marrieds to bond. It is not focused on the books. The people coming are not the most intellectual or experienced people I know. And the founder of our book club grates on me like sandpaper on a sunburn. She is a mean gossip, bless her heart, who likes dominating social situations. But I felt desperate to find a place to make friends. So I joined.
Today I got a call from my visiting teacher. She invited me to go to a book club with her this month. It has been going on for years and has some ten regulars, plus others who come occasionally. They meet the third Tuesday of every month. And they talk about the books. "These are really intelligent women, Audrey. We're not getting together to socialize. Sure, that happens too, but we get together because we want to talk about a book." I think I heard angels sing when she said that. I am a terrible socialite, but get me talking about a book and all my inhibitions go away. That is my passion. And she was right: these women are smart. These are the classy, intelligent women that I admire at church, plus their friends and neighbors. They are in all walks of life, and I am sure to be the youngest one there, which suits me just fine. And the woman who invited me is delightful and genuinely kind, (it's nice to know that despite that, we actually have something in common) so I know this will be an inviting place to be, a real circle. I am excited to participate.
Today I got a call from my visiting teacher. She invited me to go to a book club with her this month. It has been going on for years and has some ten regulars, plus others who come occasionally. They meet the third Tuesday of every month. And they talk about the books. "These are really intelligent women, Audrey. We're not getting together to socialize. Sure, that happens too, but we get together because we want to talk about a book." I think I heard angels sing when she said that. I am a terrible socialite, but get me talking about a book and all my inhibitions go away. That is my passion. And she was right: these women are smart. These are the classy, intelligent women that I admire at church, plus their friends and neighbors. They are in all walks of life, and I am sure to be the youngest one there, which suits me just fine. And the woman who invited me is delightful and genuinely kind, (it's nice to know that despite that, we actually have something in common) so I know this will be an inviting place to be, a real circle. I am excited to participate.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
shoeless
I find myself without closed-toe brown shoes for work. By work I mean that they cannot be flimsy or high heeled. I'm thinking oxfords, or better yet, mary janes. Because my way cute turtleneck and khaki outfit today is rather spoiled by my sneakers. I'm thinking Target.
Monday, November 01, 2010
stupid, obnoxious waste of time
Last night I watched "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Next year, I think I will cut my eyes out with a spoon, instead.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
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