A couple years ago, I began to notice a change in myself that disturbed me exceedingly: I'd go into my favorite bookstore, or any bookstore, and I would look around at all the shelves and instead of breathing a deep happy sigh and getting to work browsing and eventually buying, I would roll my eyes and breathe a heavy, unsatisfied sigh and walk out again empty-handed. Maybe I would poke around in the fiction section for awhile, picking up a book here and there, looking at the cover wearily and then sliding it back without bothering even to leaf through the pages.
What had happened to me? What was wrong?!
Well, kudos to The Daily Pepper for an excellent and hilarious article attempting to answer the question I was secretly asking myself, hardly daring to utter aloud for fear my whole identity would come crashing down around me. The title of the post is:
"The Goat in the Hot Tub; or, Why Fiction Is So Boring These Days."
Pepper's writing is witty and insightful, and I think everyone should give the article a read--I promise you'll be entertained. However, I did have to disagree with Pepper's ultimate conclusion, which is that class conflict is the real driving force behind fiction, and where class conflict is absent, then the fiction will be boring.
I think fiction in general has become boring because, philosophically speaking, our modern, or post-modern, or post-de-constructionist-anti-modern-nihilistic-existentialism (whatever you want to call it) society has deemed absolutes as out of style, and has instead opted to decorate in any amount of shades of gray. Where there are no absolutes, it really is difficult to find a logical, rational basis for the existence of truth. And where truth does not exist, any struggle between good and evil becomes academic, arbitrary, and not a little pointless. We are left with what I'll call (if Pepper doesn't mind) the Genevieve effect, described by Pepper as follows:
"There's way too much stuff like this out there: 'Genevieve wished she could say something to Martha, but Martha always seemed so absent ... Genevieve fumbled with her teacup, sensing an ocean of distance between herself and her mother.' Add a few more pages of Genevieve searching for answers inside her teacup, and you've got what's hot in fiction today."
I am reminded of a scene from The Empire Strikes Back, where the wise old Jedi Obi-Wan (well, actually his ghost, because he was dead at that point...or maybe he wasn't dead, but ANYWAY, he was transparent)--anyway, Obi-Wan tells Luke that one of these days he's gonna have to wake up and realize that truth "depends largely on one's point of view."
And there it is. The answer to the problem of what's inside Genevieve's teacup--nothing at all. It's empty, and so is the story. That's because there are no absolutes, there is no truth, to give meaning to anything anymore. They aren't there, because everyone has a different point of view. Where knowledge is only experiential, it's difficult to know anything, because everyone will always know something different! How can we function?
Well, the fact is, we can't, and it's interesting to look at the Star Wars story again and see that neither Obi-Wan nor Luke actually lived and acted according to their philosophy. Because if truth really does depend on point of view, who is to say that Darth Vader was actually wrong? Perhaps he was operating according to the truth that he perceived, and just because it differed from Luke's or anyone else's did not mean it wasn't truth. So the battle against the Empire--and Luke's continued assertion to Vader that he "feels the good" in him--was simply nothing more than a "my ideology is better than your ideology" sandbox rumble without any well-constructed, rational basis for either side.
And yet, countless fans cheer them on in the struggle. Why? Because it's compelling fiction. And what makes it compelling is not that there is a difference in Luke's and Vader's class status; it's the fact that, regardless of what they may say out loud, both Obi-Wan and Luke and all their friends obviously believe very much in the existence of good, and the existence of evil, and that good is worth fighting for simply because it is good and right. And the audience believes it too!
I mean, let's try to imagine the Star Wars story if it were written in our Genevieve model, abbreviated:
Obi-Wan: "Luke, truth doesn't really exist. It's all about how you feel on any given day. It's all about point of view."
Luke (pulls out his light saber and stares at it gloomily): "Then why did you give me this? What is my purpose in life?"
Obi-Wan: "I don't think anyone really has any, son. Sorry to break it to you."
[A moment of silence, punctuated only by the sound of water dripping in the rain forest and Luke's whimpering. Obi-Wan looks at his watch and yawns. Finally Luke speaks what is on his mind.]
Luke (whining petulantly): "Maybe I should just kill myself!"
Obi-Wan: "Well, I thought it might be a good idea to kill Vader instead."
Luke: "Why?"
Obi-Wan (shrugging): "No reason really. Something to pass the time though. Have you got any tea?"
Now there's a box office smash.
Look, the audience gets drawn in because in our collective consciousness (wherever that may be), the audience knows that Obi-Wan is way off the mark this time. They know that truth is out there, because Fox Mulder believes in it and he is, after all, way cuter than Obi-Wan.
(Sorry, couldn't resist!)
So, fiction needs truth if it is going to survive, and that means it needs absolutes, and that means that we need them too. I think fiction will help us find truth if it will get back to the job of actually looking for it. Hey, it beats navel-gazing, eh, Pepper? Not to mention countless cups of tea.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Girl Vs Clown
Well, it turns out Steve and I were seeing different emoticons yesterday! Here they are so you can compare. Personally, I think the clown is cuter than the red-haired girl after all.
(The making of this picture comparing the two emoticons and the accompanying online discussion was highly unproductive and shouldn't be tried by any except professionals trained in the art of procrastination.)
(The making of this picture comparing the two emoticons and the accompanying online discussion was highly unproductive and shouldn't be tried by any except professionals trained in the art of procrastination.)
Rare Sighting and the Frogg's Beauty Secrets
Ok, here it is. A picture of my hair. On a bad hair day, ha! That's how it goes when your hair gets done. The first couple days it looks fantastic, and then after that you are left on your own to attempt to style it the way they did at the salon, only you really have no clue, not to mention none of the equipment. I didn't even own a brush until a friend GAVE me one, probably because she knew I wasn't going to bother to get one on my own. I also do not have a curling iron, or straightening iron, or whatever other kinds of tools are used for hairstyling. (See, I don't even know what to call them!)
I also don't have a good hair dryer. We have hair dryers installed in the house, kind of like those you see in hotels. Which is weird, but that's what we have. They do a terrible job of anything but making your hair frizzy and big.
So my general method for "styling" my hair goes like this.
1) Take a shower and wash the hair.
2) Go to work with wet hair, and drive with the window down, and my head leaning towards the open window.
3) Done.
If I don't go to work, or out in the car, I pretty much just tie it back or let it hang til its dry. Finis.
Since the hair change, I have added the application of this rather nice-smelling pomade ("the pleasin' odor's half the point") to my wet hair and that has helped to keep it from being a total frizz-fest when it finally dries, but still I have not managed to maintain any sort of beauty "routine," for my hair or my skin or anything else, for longer than a day or two, at any time in my life.
I am all about the natural look, but not for any particular reason, I'm just too lazy to be anything else.
I also don't have a good hair dryer. We have hair dryers installed in the house, kind of like those you see in hotels. Which is weird, but that's what we have. They do a terrible job of anything but making your hair frizzy and big.
So my general method for "styling" my hair goes like this.
1) Take a shower and wash the hair.
2) Go to work with wet hair, and drive with the window down, and my head leaning towards the open window.
3) Done.
If I don't go to work, or out in the car, I pretty much just tie it back or let it hang til its dry. Finis.
Since the hair change, I have added the application of this rather nice-smelling pomade ("the pleasin' odor's half the point") to my wet hair and that has helped to keep it from being a total frizz-fest when it finally dries, but still I have not managed to maintain any sort of beauty "routine," for my hair or my skin or anything else, for longer than a day or two, at any time in my life.
I am all about the natural look, but not for any particular reason, I'm just too lazy to be anything else.
Monday, June 20, 2005
"She Is Rather Cute For An Emoticon"
My good humor has been completely restored by an online chat session with my friend Steve (and to whom I must credit the quote that makes the title of this post).
We chat using Yahoo! Messenger as a rule, and I've noticed that sometimes my Macintosh version will not do the same things emoticon-wise, etc., as the Windows version that Steve uses. This can cause some confusion during conversations, as the following story will attest. (Actually, the following story is more about mistaken emoticon identity, but for the record, he WOULD type some things that would show up on my screen as nothing but words in parenthesis, and that was a little weird. But that isn't what this story is actually about. Come to think of it, if you want to read a story with a point, please just stop now. You will be sadly disappointed otherwise.)
It all started when I sent him a picture of myself and my new hair. I had told him I'd dyed it red with blond streaks, and he was having trouble imagining it, so I sent him the pic while we were chatting, and as he was waiting for it to come through, he sent me an emoticon of what looked on my side like a little clown face.
Steve is something of a joker (and saying that is like saying that water is something of a wet, permeable substance), so I thought he was just teasing me about my having red hair by calling me a clown, and I didn't say anything in response.
He asked me later on during the conversation, "What do you see when I type this?" and again the little clown popped up.
"A clown," I said.
"Oh nooooooo!"
"Why?"
"On mine it's just a girl with red hair."
I began to laugh, especially when Steve typed remorsefully, "You must have thought I was a jerk!" I hadn't thought so, but I DID think he was being a dork, because he did the clown-face more than once, and I was like, ok ok, just wait til you get the picture before you start assuming how I look with red hair!!! Everyone ELSE thinks it's pretty cool, so give it a chance!
Steve's remorse actually came from his impression that, when he did the clown-face (fine, red-haired girl), I was seeing just the word "clown." So he thought that I thought he was flat-out calling me a clown! Which I did, of course, because I saw a picture of what I thought was a clown (come on, it had a GIANT red nose, and two little tufts of red hair on the either side of its otherwise bald head, what would YOU think?). My amusement at his remorse came from the fact that I thought the emoticon on my screen was actually different than the emoticon on his, which in fact it was not. We were both very confused (as you probably are now) and very hysterical until we figured it out, and then we continued to be hysterical for awhile longer because it was still funny that we could both look at the exact same thing and see something completely different.
At least in my case, I didn't have to worry about anyone in the next cubicle wondering why work was apparently so amusing all of a sudden.
Well, I missed my chance to sit in the sun; now I have to get ready for work, but it was worth it. I got my good laugh for the day! Thanks, Stevie.
We chat using Yahoo! Messenger as a rule, and I've noticed that sometimes my Macintosh version will not do the same things emoticon-wise, etc., as the Windows version that Steve uses. This can cause some confusion during conversations, as the following story will attest. (Actually, the following story is more about mistaken emoticon identity, but for the record, he WOULD type some things that would show up on my screen as nothing but words in parenthesis, and that was a little weird. But that isn't what this story is actually about. Come to think of it, if you want to read a story with a point, please just stop now. You will be sadly disappointed otherwise.)
It all started when I sent him a picture of myself and my new hair. I had told him I'd dyed it red with blond streaks, and he was having trouble imagining it, so I sent him the pic while we were chatting, and as he was waiting for it to come through, he sent me an emoticon of what looked on my side like a little clown face.
Steve is something of a joker (and saying that is like saying that water is something of a wet, permeable substance), so I thought he was just teasing me about my having red hair by calling me a clown, and I didn't say anything in response.
He asked me later on during the conversation, "What do you see when I type this?" and again the little clown popped up.
"A clown," I said.
"Oh nooooooo!"
"Why?"
"On mine it's just a girl with red hair."
I began to laugh, especially when Steve typed remorsefully, "You must have thought I was a jerk!" I hadn't thought so, but I DID think he was being a dork, because he did the clown-face more than once, and I was like, ok ok, just wait til you get the picture before you start assuming how I look with red hair!!! Everyone ELSE thinks it's pretty cool, so give it a chance!
Steve's remorse actually came from his impression that, when he did the clown-face (fine, red-haired girl), I was seeing just the word "clown." So he thought that I thought he was flat-out calling me a clown! Which I did, of course, because I saw a picture of what I thought was a clown (come on, it had a GIANT red nose, and two little tufts of red hair on the either side of its otherwise bald head, what would YOU think?). My amusement at his remorse came from the fact that I thought the emoticon on my screen was actually different than the emoticon on his, which in fact it was not. We were both very confused (as you probably are now) and very hysterical until we figured it out, and then we continued to be hysterical for awhile longer because it was still funny that we could both look at the exact same thing and see something completely different.
At least in my case, I didn't have to worry about anyone in the next cubicle wondering why work was apparently so amusing all of a sudden.
Well, I missed my chance to sit in the sun; now I have to get ready for work, but it was worth it. I got my good laugh for the day! Thanks, Stevie.
Grumpy
I have been in a bad mood most of the day. Will someone please tell me a joke or something? I could really use a laugh.
At least my tooth stopped hurting. The giant spider is still in my bathroom, but I've lost the heart to do him harm. After all, he's made no move to harm me, so why can't we both just get along? I'm willing to give it a try, anyway. Besides, I don't want to clean up the mess that's bound to be left if I squooshed him with my shoe. Yuck.
(I keep hoping that he will be overcome by a sudden desire to see the great wide world OUTSIDE of my bedroom, and then I wouldn't have to even deal with him, but so far he is depressingly loyal to his territory.)
I also survived the DMV today with minimal damage to the deep reservoirs of patience that exist in the recesses of my psyche. Well, I am lying, I have no such reservoirs in my psyche or anywhere else, and for that reason I brought a book to read, and that is why I did not turn into a veritable EXPLOSION of impatience during the TWO HOURS that I waited to renew my license...a process, I might add, which took all of 10 whole minutes.
Then I had to go to the mall and stop by the store where I work, and of course co-workers had to ask me why I was "dressed up" because I wasn't wearing my typical scuffy jeans and T-shirt or whatever I usually wear, and I mean honestly, who wants to admit that the reason they look nice on a given day is because they have actually run out of clean scuffy clothes, and they had to do a load (or 2 or 3) of laundry, but of course you can't wear NOTHING when you are doing laundry (or you can, but not if you are going to go out of the house!), and all that was left was nice clothes?
Now I am killing time til I have to go back to work and actually work, as opposed to stopping by and not buying something that I was sure I was going to buy, until I got there and discovered that what I was going to buy was not actually the thing that I needed, and--oh never mind! If I go into it, I'm just going to get irritable all over again. (This is another pet peeve of mine, by the way: going shopping and returning home empty-handed. I hate shopping anyway, so when this happens, it's like insult to injury. I could sulk for days in the aftermath of a non-successful shopping venture.)
Ok, enough. I am going to take my snarky, snarly-cat self and go sit in the sun for awhile. I will feel better when I am tan...at least, assuming I don't get skin cancer, which will make me feel not better at all. In fact, I think I could safely say that that will do some damage to the deep reservoirs of tranquility and happiness that I'd like to think (but am not entirely sure) exist somewhere in the recesses of my psyche.
At least my tooth stopped hurting. The giant spider is still in my bathroom, but I've lost the heart to do him harm. After all, he's made no move to harm me, so why can't we both just get along? I'm willing to give it a try, anyway. Besides, I don't want to clean up the mess that's bound to be left if I squooshed him with my shoe. Yuck.
(I keep hoping that he will be overcome by a sudden desire to see the great wide world OUTSIDE of my bedroom, and then I wouldn't have to even deal with him, but so far he is depressingly loyal to his territory.)
I also survived the DMV today with minimal damage to the deep reservoirs of patience that exist in the recesses of my psyche. Well, I am lying, I have no such reservoirs in my psyche or anywhere else, and for that reason I brought a book to read, and that is why I did not turn into a veritable EXPLOSION of impatience during the TWO HOURS that I waited to renew my license...a process, I might add, which took all of 10 whole minutes.
Then I had to go to the mall and stop by the store where I work, and of course co-workers had to ask me why I was "dressed up" because I wasn't wearing my typical scuffy jeans and T-shirt or whatever I usually wear, and I mean honestly, who wants to admit that the reason they look nice on a given day is because they have actually run out of clean scuffy clothes, and they had to do a load (or 2 or 3) of laundry, but of course you can't wear NOTHING when you are doing laundry (or you can, but not if you are going to go out of the house!), and all that was left was nice clothes?
Now I am killing time til I have to go back to work and actually work, as opposed to stopping by and not buying something that I was sure I was going to buy, until I got there and discovered that what I was going to buy was not actually the thing that I needed, and--oh never mind! If I go into it, I'm just going to get irritable all over again. (This is another pet peeve of mine, by the way: going shopping and returning home empty-handed. I hate shopping anyway, so when this happens, it's like insult to injury. I could sulk for days in the aftermath of a non-successful shopping venture.)
Ok, enough. I am going to take my snarky, snarly-cat self and go sit in the sun for awhile. I will feel better when I am tan...at least, assuming I don't get skin cancer, which will make me feel not better at all. In fact, I think I could safely say that that will do some damage to the deep reservoirs of tranquility and happiness that I'd like to think (but am not entirely sure) exist somewhere in the recesses of my psyche.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Two More
6) I now have a raging toothache, which I suspect of being cavitous, and I can barely think straight it hurts so much, in spite of a very liberal application of Ambesol. Is cavitous a word? My whole mouth feels funny now, but not at all in a haha-laughing way. If I tried to laugh right now, I think I would cry. Ouch.
7) I just realized yesterday that my driver's license expired...last week. I've been driving around for seven days with an expired license. I don't remember ever getting a notice about it in the mail, and the only reason I even discovered it was because I moved my license from my wallet to the handbag that I took with me to the reception, and as I did I looked at the expiration date for no reason that I can think of, but I'm glad I did. However, now I am stressed about having to go to the DMV tomorrow. I hate going to the DMV.
Ugh again. On top of everything else, I ate too much today. Bleah.
7) I just realized yesterday that my driver's license expired...last week. I've been driving around for seven days with an expired license. I don't remember ever getting a notice about it in the mail, and the only reason I even discovered it was because I moved my license from my wallet to the handbag that I took with me to the reception, and as I did I looked at the expiration date for no reason that I can think of, but I'm glad I did. However, now I am stressed about having to go to the DMV tomorrow. I hate going to the DMV.
Ugh again. On top of everything else, I ate too much today. Bleah.
Distracted
I am feeling very distracted today, for many reasons:
1) I can't find a pack of photo paper, which has been sitting on my desk for months while I didn't need it. Now that I need it (to make a Father's Day card, no less--nothing like waiting til the last minute!), of course I can't find it anywhere. I'm very annoyed by this.
2) The gargantuan spider that prompted a recent cleaning frenzy in my room has not been vanquished; it is alive and well, last seen in my bathroom. I still was not able to kill it, so I still have to worry about it crawling on my face at night when I'm asleep.
3) Leo's horrific shrieking gets worse every day, and terrible thoughts go through my head every time I pass his cage. I worry for my sanity and his safety; both are in an increasingly precarious position.
4) I am haunted by the knowledge that, try as I might (and I do try), I am not in fact a very nice, kind, or thoughtful person. And I also can't cook (but that has nothing to do with trying; more like the lack thereof--still, it's depressing).
5) I'd like to write about the King Tut exhibit and reception, which I attended yesterday, but I can't concentrate because of 1-4.
Ugh.
1) I can't find a pack of photo paper, which has been sitting on my desk for months while I didn't need it. Now that I need it (to make a Father's Day card, no less--nothing like waiting til the last minute!), of course I can't find it anywhere. I'm very annoyed by this.
2) The gargantuan spider that prompted a recent cleaning frenzy in my room has not been vanquished; it is alive and well, last seen in my bathroom. I still was not able to kill it, so I still have to worry about it crawling on my face at night when I'm asleep.
3) Leo's horrific shrieking gets worse every day, and terrible thoughts go through my head every time I pass his cage. I worry for my sanity and his safety; both are in an increasingly precarious position.
4) I am haunted by the knowledge that, try as I might (and I do try), I am not in fact a very nice, kind, or thoughtful person. And I also can't cook (but that has nothing to do with trying; more like the lack thereof--still, it's depressing).
5) I'd like to write about the King Tut exhibit and reception, which I attended yesterday, but I can't concentrate because of 1-4.
Ugh.
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