Poor Meg got her four-year-old shots last week. It was pretty traumatic. Afterwards, she commented sadly, "Shots. Nasty, nasty shots."
We've been all about Egypt around here, especially the Sphinx (pronounced Spinks). So when we watched The Prince of Egypt, she leapt up, grabbed her book about How the Sphinx Got to the Museum, and started identifying everything in the movie. My favorite moment was when she decided Hatshepsut adopted baby Moses.
"I think in our world, Sanajay snakes are dangerous and I shouldn't touch them because they're poisonous." Meg
"Yeah, I think you're right." Me
"Because then you'd have a WOUNDED KID!" Meg
Update:
Speaking of... snakes?... Meg is currently building an elaborate fort out of cans of tomatoes, library books, and a baby blanket. I asked who the fort was for. "It's a JAIL! It's a nice little happy jail."
Showing posts with label Nature of existence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nature of existence. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Saturday, January 04, 2014
Sunday, November 11, 2012
When we were very young
Meg is working through the concept of people having various names for various relationships and at the same time figuring out time and how things can happen when she's older. I love watching this. Sometimes things get a little conflated.
"You get to call him Love but I get to call him Daddy. I don't get to call him Jonathan because I'm not four yet; I'm only two. When I'm four I can call him Jonathan."
"You get to call him Love but I get to call him Daddy. I don't get to call him Jonathan because I'm not four yet; I'm only two. When I'm four I can call him Jonathan."
Thursday, August 09, 2012
The eggs
Also today, I was amused at the difference between my and Meg's approaches to putting the Easter eggs away in their carton.
I arrange them in rainbow order in matched pairs and then go hunting around the house for the missing yellow one.
Meg comes behind me and fixes them so they're all turned right side up. Then she moves them around, puts smaller toys inside them, and might add in an egg from another set (heresy!). She also makes sure that the stuffed animals watching are in straight lines.
Then I come behind her and put them back in color order.
We deserve each other.
I arrange them in rainbow order in matched pairs and then go hunting around the house for the missing yellow one.
Meg comes behind me and fixes them so they're all turned right side up. Then she moves them around, puts smaller toys inside them, and might add in an egg from another set (heresy!). She also makes sure that the stuffed animals watching are in straight lines.
Then I come behind her and put them back in color order.
We deserve each other.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
WWAT?
Do you ever wonder what an archaeologist digging up your stuff would make of you? I was thinking that tonight. I wonder if an archaeologist would notice I arranged my dishes by color order within type. I worked really hard on it. They certainly won't know the stories behind our things, that Jonathan's friend painted that and we bought those on our honeymoon. And what if I got an intern archaeologist for my shoes, who took the lazy way out and only took plaster casts of my feet from one pair and thus didn't notice that my shoes are actually two sizes, pre-Meggie and post-Meggie? How dare he miss something like that??
About at that point in my mental processes, I decided that hopefully there won't be an archaeologist for this apartment, because I mean to move out before I die. Or get, I don't know, covered by a volcano. Which is of course a form of dying.
It's probably just as well my legacy is with God. He even notices stray hairs. I apparently can't trust academia to do the thing right.
About at that point in my mental processes, I decided that hopefully there won't be an archaeologist for this apartment, because I mean to move out before I die. Or get, I don't know, covered by a volcano. Which is of course a form of dying.
It's probably just as well my legacy is with God. He even notices stray hairs. I apparently can't trust academia to do the thing right.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Modernist design
Today's library haul got me really excited. I picked up Lisa Skolnik's Retro Modern out of the architecture and design section, and it pulled together so much for me. There wasn't a huge amount of text, just an introduction, a page or two of text per chapter, and the rest photos and captions illustrating the style in actual houses and other buildings. And I read the entire thing, and got so excited I read a good bit out loud to Jonathan (who was peacefully reading Chuck Swindoll and really mostly back in ancient Persia).
First: I had never realized how much of modernist style I had unconsciously inherited. Big airy windows, an emphasis on back patios, built-in shelves and other furniture, rooms that flow into one another, and front doors that open straight onto the main living area of the house -- classic modernism. I hadn't realized that the basic ranch-styles and split-levels came out of that tradition; I grew up in and around them, and I guess I thought they just naturally occurred? Like mushrooms?
Second: I am reminded of several more aspects of modernism which I've always disliked. Now I'm thinking of bare blocky shapes, sterile walls, odd (but theoretically "functional") architectural excrescences, cantilevering and hovering elements, a dislike of right angles in furniture (Eames chairs, anyone?), and the general impracticality and child-unfriendliness of it all. For instance. There was one hearth out in the middle of the room where the widest part, a layer of bricks, was about six inches up off the floor. It was very nice looking, but carefully arranged so that any adult walking through would bark their shins on it and any child would trip and crack their head on a corner. Yikes.
Also, in order to really be in keeping with the aesthetic, you can't have any junk in your house. Or dirt. Everything is clean and on display. You may have shelves, but the only visible things allowed are Art, such as bio-morphic glass vases or African masks. Mundane things like books and toothbrushes have to be hidden behind fiberglass shelf doors, except for one book on your coffee table. Obviously this would not work for my house.
Third: I found it fascinating how the rise of modernist design flowed out of broader history. The 20th-century opened with a few movements, such as the Arts & Crafts, rebelling against fancy Victorian furnishing. In Germany this took the "Werkbund" style, which emphasized good workmanship and machine-production. That's exactly what they were doing in other ways, like making "the finest artillery in Europe" (to quote Jonathan).
During the late twenties and thirties, the modern aesthetic slowed down due to Nazi preferences (Europe) and production and sales issues (the Great Depression in America). Some major designers fled the war to the US. But, after World War II, there were all these artists raring to go and factories ready to make non-military things and new little ex-soldiers' families getting new little houses and furniture - and whoosh! A style took off.* And now, seventy years later, it's so normal we barely notice it.
Fourth: It's telling that the new houses were oriented around the backyard to have a better view of nature. No more big front porches for chatting with the neighbors, no more parlor windows facing the street, but uncurtained floor-to-ceiling windows facing your own secluded garden. These were built in dramatic natural areas and in cookie-cutter subdivisions, but they were not, for the most part, built on busy town streets so you could walk to the store. Hello, New Urbanism.
Styles change. It's what they do. A lot of the modernist aesthetic is very practical in some ways. It's great for public areas like park visitors' centers and libraries. I think the Los Alamos library is a very cool modernist building - big, airy, light, relatively easy to clean, nifty nested windows to photograph people through, nice balconies to drop things off of.** It's even pretty in its way. But it's not... everything. It's not good for the in-between living. You go for the day.
I think Jonathan and I, if we get a chance to design a house, will value other things. For us, functional means "good for raising kids in" and "hospitable" and, oh, I don't know. Enough storage. Pretty. Respecting boundaries. Curtains on the windows, so we can close them at night and open them in the morning. Not enamored entirely with the last seventy years, and able to tolerate things that are fabulous just for the sake of it, like a Sculpey dragon in red and gold named Aethelthryth***, to reflect the crazy creativity of the God who came up with the common platypus. I mean really, what kind of God makes platypuses? And what does that say about human house design?
Modernism is more pervasive than I'd realized -- which is fine, but also why it's good to keep up with Epbot. Also, if anyone knows of a good design blog inspired by Art Deco, I'd definitely be interested.
*Obviously, it's more complicated than this. But what a fun overview.
**No, I don't recommend this. What were you thinking? ;-)
***Amelia R. sculpted her for our wedding, along with a marzipan dragon. We have awesome friends.
First: I had never realized how much of modernist style I had unconsciously inherited. Big airy windows, an emphasis on back patios, built-in shelves and other furniture, rooms that flow into one another, and front doors that open straight onto the main living area of the house -- classic modernism. I hadn't realized that the basic ranch-styles and split-levels came out of that tradition; I grew up in and around them, and I guess I thought they just naturally occurred? Like mushrooms?
Second: I am reminded of several more aspects of modernism which I've always disliked. Now I'm thinking of bare blocky shapes, sterile walls, odd (but theoretically "functional") architectural excrescences, cantilevering and hovering elements, a dislike of right angles in furniture (Eames chairs, anyone?), and the general impracticality and child-unfriendliness of it all. For instance. There was one hearth out in the middle of the room where the widest part, a layer of bricks, was about six inches up off the floor. It was very nice looking, but carefully arranged so that any adult walking through would bark their shins on it and any child would trip and crack their head on a corner. Yikes.
Also, in order to really be in keeping with the aesthetic, you can't have any junk in your house. Or dirt. Everything is clean and on display. You may have shelves, but the only visible things allowed are Art, such as bio-morphic glass vases or African masks. Mundane things like books and toothbrushes have to be hidden behind fiberglass shelf doors, except for one book on your coffee table. Obviously this would not work for my house.
Third: I found it fascinating how the rise of modernist design flowed out of broader history. The 20th-century opened with a few movements, such as the Arts & Crafts, rebelling against fancy Victorian furnishing. In Germany this took the "Werkbund" style, which emphasized good workmanship and machine-production. That's exactly what they were doing in other ways, like making "the finest artillery in Europe" (to quote Jonathan).
During the late twenties and thirties, the modern aesthetic slowed down due to Nazi preferences (Europe) and production and sales issues (the Great Depression in America). Some major designers fled the war to the US. But, after World War II, there were all these artists raring to go and factories ready to make non-military things and new little ex-soldiers' families getting new little houses and furniture - and whoosh! A style took off.* And now, seventy years later, it's so normal we barely notice it.
Fourth: It's telling that the new houses were oriented around the backyard to have a better view of nature. No more big front porches for chatting with the neighbors, no more parlor windows facing the street, but uncurtained floor-to-ceiling windows facing your own secluded garden. These were built in dramatic natural areas and in cookie-cutter subdivisions, but they were not, for the most part, built on busy town streets so you could walk to the store. Hello, New Urbanism.
Styles change. It's what they do. A lot of the modernist aesthetic is very practical in some ways. It's great for public areas like park visitors' centers and libraries. I think the Los Alamos library is a very cool modernist building - big, airy, light, relatively easy to clean, nifty nested windows to photograph people through, nice balconies to drop things off of.** It's even pretty in its way. But it's not... everything. It's not good for the in-between living. You go for the day.
I think Jonathan and I, if we get a chance to design a house, will value other things. For us, functional means "good for raising kids in" and "hospitable" and, oh, I don't know. Enough storage. Pretty. Respecting boundaries. Curtains on the windows, so we can close them at night and open them in the morning. Not enamored entirely with the last seventy years, and able to tolerate things that are fabulous just for the sake of it, like a Sculpey dragon in red and gold named Aethelthryth***, to reflect the crazy creativity of the God who came up with the common platypus. I mean really, what kind of God makes platypuses? And what does that say about human house design?
Modernism is more pervasive than I'd realized -- which is fine, but also why it's good to keep up with Epbot. Also, if anyone knows of a good design blog inspired by Art Deco, I'd definitely be interested.
*Obviously, it's more complicated than this. But what a fun overview.
**No, I don't recommend this. What were you thinking? ;-)
***Amelia R. sculpted her for our wedding, along with a marzipan dragon. We have awesome friends.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The 5 best toys of all time
It's SO REAL.
http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2011/01/the-5-best-toys-of-all-time/all/1
Hat tip to... somebody's gchat status. I'm sorry, I forgot who. You can claim it if you want. Rhyme and Reason, maybe?
http://www.wired.com/geekdad/2011/01/the-5-best-toys-of-all-time/all/1
Hat tip to... somebody's gchat status. I'm sorry, I forgot who. You can claim it if you want. Rhyme and Reason, maybe?
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
A duck hath charms to soothe
Jonathan, scooping up a wailey Margaret: "We're going to go hang out with ducks."
We've all been kind of sick-ish lately, and this morning his class was canceled (BLESSINGS on that professor!), so we actually got to sleep in! And come down and eat a proper breakfast! And now I'm going to go upstairs and get some work done.
The only downside is that Meg doesn't feel good, hence the wailies. And further hence, the soothing properties of rubber ducks.
We've all been kind of sick-ish lately, and this morning his class was canceled (BLESSINGS on that professor!), so we actually got to sleep in! And come down and eat a proper breakfast! And now I'm going to go upstairs and get some work done.
The only downside is that Meg doesn't feel good, hence the wailies. And further hence, the soothing properties of rubber ducks.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Yes, Eureka, there is a real meaning of Christmas
I finally read Thrones, Dominations, the unfinished Sayers book the Jill Paton Walsh took in hand and completed a few years ago. It wasn't as good as a pure Sayers, but it was better than some of the mysteries I've been reading lately. She didn't so much ruin our beloved characters as flatten them out: everybody's characterization got less nuanced and more sledgehammer-like. The Duke of Denver and Lady Helen came off worst of all, although Peter became so sensitive as to be slightly henpecked (Peter!! Henpecked by Harriet??). She tried really hard to keep Sayers' contemporary attitudes and worldview, but a modern apparently just can't. Not on marriage: not on class. A pity. Also, the solution to the mystery was kind of perverted, so I wouldn't recommend it for young readers.
The long-awaited Eureka Christmas episode came out this week! Spoilers! It was called "O Little Town," and I think they'd been watching Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, because Taggart, in a life-long pursuit of Santa, has developed a shrinker-ray for presents that shrinks Eureka! Oh noes! So Jack and Taggart figure out how to take Dr. Drummer's (guest star) magic energy snowball thing and throw it at the EMP shield and reverse the shrinkage.
There were some genuinely funny moments, but I don't think the writers of this episode ever watched Eureka. Taggart's thing is hunting with big guns, right? And Jack is a huge baseball fan, right? So when the time comes for them to go up in the sleigh (I am not making this up), throw the snowball at the shield, and shoot it, what do the writers do but assign Jack to the gun and Taggart to the pitching. Huh? But then, the writing on Eureka this whole season has been lazy. They did get a bunch of new writers on, I know. The dialogue isn't that funny, the plots aren't particularly scientific, and the characters randomly do things totally out of character. Too bad. Also, I really wish they'd hurry up and get Jo and Zane sorted out, or at least advance their story somehow. That's the most interesting subplot at this point, now that the parallel world is more or less at an equilibrium. Sigh.
It's also a pity that Eureka is such a metaphysically empty world. It really is. They do a whole Christmas episode, leaving out even the vaguest hint of Christianity (of course), and this is what we wind up with:
- Christmas isn't about being with your blood family, but being with those you're with (and hopefully love) - Jack's, Jo's, and the nameless snowed-in kids' subplots.
- Everybody makes their own Christmas magic. Allison's subplot was she tries so hard to make things wonderful for her kids, because her parents were straight-up scientists and she never got a present from Santa.
- Growing up doesn't mean you have to stop believing in magic and eating candy canes (at least, so Dr. Drummer/Santa tells Jo).
- Science doesn't work on Santa. You can't capture him and study him, but he'll be back next year - Taggart's subplot.
-Fruitcake has like a million calories, especially when it's shrunk so a whole fruitcake is in one bite.
Seriously? That's the best meaning of Christmas you've got? They know science isn't enough, and there's a better myth, if you like. Imagine a world where a happy God invented people and parsley and astrophysics because He wanted to, and because having them was better and awesomer than not. Then imagine people messed it up. Then, imagine God Himself was born as a human person, to live here for thirty years, be murdered, but be so intensely full of life that He swallowed up death. And, if you want to, you can join this God, and He will swap your death for His life, and your depressingness for His happiness. Incidentally, this means you can investigate this world - i.e. do science - all you like and only learn more about this God because it tells you what He's like. Science has meaning; life has meaning; language even has meaning. Altogether a more satisfactory state of affairs.
Eureka ignores God, and in their metaphysical flailings they've lost science too. We get to wish for Santa and eat candy canes? Seriously? I really miss the scientific plots. Come to the light side. We have cookies! And a philosophical foundation for them!
The long-awaited Eureka Christmas episode came out this week! Spoilers! It was called "O Little Town," and I think they'd been watching Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, because Taggart, in a life-long pursuit of Santa, has developed a shrinker-ray for presents that shrinks Eureka! Oh noes! So Jack and Taggart figure out how to take Dr. Drummer's (guest star) magic energy snowball thing and throw it at the EMP shield and reverse the shrinkage.
There were some genuinely funny moments, but I don't think the writers of this episode ever watched Eureka. Taggart's thing is hunting with big guns, right? And Jack is a huge baseball fan, right? So when the time comes for them to go up in the sleigh (I am not making this up), throw the snowball at the shield, and shoot it, what do the writers do but assign Jack to the gun and Taggart to the pitching. Huh? But then, the writing on Eureka this whole season has been lazy. They did get a bunch of new writers on, I know. The dialogue isn't that funny, the plots aren't particularly scientific, and the characters randomly do things totally out of character. Too bad. Also, I really wish they'd hurry up and get Jo and Zane sorted out, or at least advance their story somehow. That's the most interesting subplot at this point, now that the parallel world is more or less at an equilibrium. Sigh.
It's also a pity that Eureka is such a metaphysically empty world. It really is. They do a whole Christmas episode, leaving out even the vaguest hint of Christianity (of course), and this is what we wind up with:
- Christmas isn't about being with your blood family, but being with those you're with (and hopefully love) - Jack's, Jo's, and the nameless snowed-in kids' subplots.
- Everybody makes their own Christmas magic. Allison's subplot was she tries so hard to make things wonderful for her kids, because her parents were straight-up scientists and she never got a present from Santa.
- Growing up doesn't mean you have to stop believing in magic and eating candy canes (at least, so Dr. Drummer/Santa tells Jo).
- Science doesn't work on Santa. You can't capture him and study him, but he'll be back next year - Taggart's subplot.
-Fruitcake has like a million calories, especially when it's shrunk so a whole fruitcake is in one bite.
Seriously? That's the best meaning of Christmas you've got? They know science isn't enough, and there's a better myth, if you like. Imagine a world where a happy God invented people and parsley and astrophysics because He wanted to, and because having them was better and awesomer than not. Then imagine people messed it up. Then, imagine God Himself was born as a human person, to live here for thirty years, be murdered, but be so intensely full of life that He swallowed up death. And, if you want to, you can join this God, and He will swap your death for His life, and your depressingness for His happiness. Incidentally, this means you can investigate this world - i.e. do science - all you like and only learn more about this God because it tells you what He's like. Science has meaning; life has meaning; language even has meaning. Altogether a more satisfactory state of affairs.
Eureka ignores God, and in their metaphysical flailings they've lost science too. We get to wish for Santa and eat candy canes? Seriously? I really miss the scientific plots. Come to the light side. We have cookies! And a philosophical foundation for them!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Take that, idyllic scene
Meggie turned six months today!
Picture the scene: it's a perfect, (surprisingly) cool morning. We're on our way to drop off Jonathan at work before Meggie's doctor's appointment. We're on time, Meg has a cute dress on, the sun is kind of shining, and two little yellow birds are twittering midair over the road. Tweet, tweet-
THWOCK.
Yep, Olwen ran them right over. One left a little smudge on the windshield.
Picture the scene: it's a perfect, (surprisingly) cool morning. We're on our way to drop off Jonathan at work before Meggie's doctor's appointment. We're on time, Meg has a cute dress on, the sun is kind of shining, and two little yellow birds are twittering midair over the road. Tweet, tweet-
THWOCK.
Yep, Olwen ran them right over. One left a little smudge on the windshield.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Membership application
We're working on our church membership applications today. I'm having a little trouble with number four, "Christian Vitality and Lifestyle: Please describe the impact that Jesus Christ has on your life right now." Um... every way? To start with, I almost certainly wouldn't be here, wouldn't have Meggie, wouldn't have met and married Jonathan, wouldn't have gotten the degree I did at the college I did. We wouldn't budget the way we do, wouldn't play the way we do, wouldn't have the friends we do, wouldn't wear what we do, wouldn't have the job(s) we (mostly) do... I wouldn't be much like me.
I have something that very few people do: exactly what I always wanted! True, a regular income would be nice, but in the meantime He's certainly providing and I get to be home as a wife and mother of a very cute little girl. We're so happy.
Hopefully they'll take that!
I have something that very few people do: exactly what I always wanted! True, a regular income would be nice, but in the meantime He's certainly providing and I get to be home as a wife and mother of a very cute little girl. We're so happy.
Hopefully they'll take that!
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The babushka
Last night we went for a walk and passed a little old wrinkled babushka. She wore a black headscarf and we couldn't quite tell what nationality she was: Russian? Eastern European? Middle Eastern? But as we passed her, she tapped herself on the heart a couple times and smiled at Meggie. "Ah, bay-bee," she said.
Some things are universal.
Some things are universal.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Thought
Earrings are like the punctuation for your* outfit. It's not that people can't understand what you're saying without them, but they're the perfect finishing touch -- a convention, a printer's mark, to aid comprehension.
In that case, I went to McDonald's today with a socially incomplete fashion statement.
*Gentlemen, you are not being addressed. So no snarky comments, please.
In that case, I went to McDonald's today with a socially incomplete fashion statement.
*Gentlemen, you are not being addressed. So no snarky comments, please.
Saturday, February 06, 2010
Why we aren't spies
"Maybe you want haggis for breakfast - variety and mystery in one meat! And maybe a little self-deception too, if you believe the tales of the haggis-beast." Jonathan
Uh-oh. Nobody's told him haggis-beasts are for real. See? I found a picture on the internet. I think they have long hair like those highland cows, to keep them warm in those long cold winters. A similarity with Scottish cattle would also explain why haggises don't taste good: I definitely don't recommend hamburgers in Scotland. (Though pretty much everything else we ate was wonderful. Except the Chinese food.) But that's by the by.In other news, we've been discovering just how much we converse at night when one or the other of us isn't actually awake. Several times Jonathan has given me the equivalent of "yes, dear," and rolled right over. I hear that I greeted Jonathan when he came to bed last night, and thanked him for getting up to take care of Meg. I have no memory of this. At least our automatic response systems are polite.
And probably we shouldn't take up espionage anytime soon!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Conscience strikes back
One of my favorite books from college was Budziszewski's What We Can't Not Know, which talked about conscience and how you really can't escape it. He went into the Greek Furies and all kinds of fun stuff. This article from Boundless just linked Budziszewski on conscience with why there's such an all-fired fuss about Tim Tebow's pro-life commercial for the Superbowl. The opposition must be silenced: if nobody else tells them they're wrong, maybe their consciences won't, either.
I can't prove it, of course, but it has a lot of explanatory power.
I can't prove it, of course, but it has a lot of explanatory power.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Baking soda vs. baking powder
This post is talking about the difference between baking soda and baking powder - an excellent question. Rumor has it that baking soda is just the base chemical that reacts with the acid already in the recipe, and baking powder has acid included in it so it doesn't depend on native acid to make your batter rise.
So, naturally, we had see whether baking soda is really fizzier when reacted with vinegar.
Yes, it definitely fizzes more effectively. It nearly overflowed the little dish. And, as you may observe, the baking powder (left) has more residue at the end than the baking soda. Cool!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Hurray!
Hurray! China is starting to lift its one-child policy! It was such a bad idea, for so many reasons.
Saturday, June 06, 2009
When we all get to heaven
I just discovered that Touchstone has a whole collection of posts on the importance of graveyards. :-) I believe it was Dr. Smith who first got me interested in theology of Christian burial; one of his many areas of arcane knowledge. He did it in freshman Rhetoric, no less. The randomest things turn up in his classes.
Your pardon, I need to go check on my husband. I think he found some undead sausage in the fridge.
Your pardon, I need to go check on my husband. I think he found some undead sausage in the fridge.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Quote of the day
On the subject of socks that don't match even themselves, thereby defeating the logical law "A, therefore A":
"If I knew, I would say something witty, like 'I'm in your sock drawer subverting your teleology.'" Jonathan
On the subject of pepperoni, which is and is not a meat, especially in reference to Good Friday:
"I guess the cow could say, 'I'm in your pepperoni nuancing your metaphysics.' Then again, I guess the cow would say 'Moo!'" Jonathan
"If I knew, I would say something witty, like 'I'm in your sock drawer subverting your teleology.'" Jonathan
On the subject of pepperoni, which is and is not a meat, especially in reference to Good Friday:
"I guess the cow could say, 'I'm in your pepperoni nuancing your metaphysics.' Then again, I guess the cow would say 'Moo!'" Jonathan
Thursday, February 05, 2009
"They're trying to tell me how to feel"
At first I thought she was just being dumb, but upon reflection, I think it's a cultural phenomenon. I was listening to Taylor Swift yesterday, to her new song "Love Story." It's basically a shameless rip-off of Romeo and Juliet, re-set loosely in contemporary times with a happy ending, and it's pretty cute. But there's this one line that ruins it. "Romeo, save me/ They're trying to tell me how to feel!"
There's also a scene in Sayers' Gaudy Night where Harriet and one of the professors are discussing proper feeling and knowing one's true calling. It doesn't matter so much what you feel, they conclude, "as long as you don't try to persuade yourself into proper feeling." Harriet concurs, noting that "trying to persuade herself into proper feeling" regarding her former lover is what got her into trouble. "You will only know what is of overmastering importance when you have been overmastered by it."
Why is it such a massive crime to try and tell people what's right to feel in a certain situation? Especially if it really will make their lives easier? And in some situations, if there really is a right versus a wrong feeling?
So I propounded this puzzle to my true love about six this morning. We blame the Enlightenment, which knew all about reason but didn't have the foggiest idea what to do with emotion. The Romantics rebelled by making emotion their god and their drug. I think that's where Aeolian harps and the wind and the soul all get mixed up together. (I like that mental image--it makes me think of a pretty woods, with harp-strings going sproing! and flying in all directions.) I further think Postmodernism quietly usurped that line of thought--the Aeolian harp emotion bit, I mean. I suppose, if you're defining your own reality, your emotions are about your only guide and therefore it really is a tyranny for someone to dictate those emotions.
I would go about this entirely differently: in the beginning was God, and He set up reality for us. I keep thinking of phrases like, "Rejoice, O Israel!" and "Husbands, love your wives." Yes, love is a verb and all that, but if it's not a commanded emotion too, I don't want it. Emotion is no longer so important, so bloated, so all-encompassing, and so emotions too can be brought into their proper service.
I also think of Lewis' Abolition of Man and his discussion of Men Without Chests. They have Stomachs--meaning appetites of one sort and another--and they have Heads--meaning reason of one sort and another. It's the Chest, the seat of the emotion, that never gets trained. And when things get a trifle sticky, it's not the Head that says "I am about to get shot and therefore I will stay right here"--it's the Chest that says "Yeah I know I'm about to get shot, but there's this flag, you see," and stays.
I don't want to go overboard and say "Yes! People should dictate emotions to one another all the time!" But I do think that if there's a common reality, there's the possibility for right and wrong feelings in relationship to it. So. Taylor Swift wasn't just being dumb, but I do think she was incorrect. Opinions?
There's also a scene in Sayers' Gaudy Night where Harriet and one of the professors are discussing proper feeling and knowing one's true calling. It doesn't matter so much what you feel, they conclude, "as long as you don't try to persuade yourself into proper feeling." Harriet concurs, noting that "trying to persuade herself into proper feeling" regarding her former lover is what got her into trouble. "You will only know what is of overmastering importance when you have been overmastered by it."
Why is it such a massive crime to try and tell people what's right to feel in a certain situation? Especially if it really will make their lives easier? And in some situations, if there really is a right versus a wrong feeling?
So I propounded this puzzle to my true love about six this morning. We blame the Enlightenment, which knew all about reason but didn't have the foggiest idea what to do with emotion. The Romantics rebelled by making emotion their god and their drug. I think that's where Aeolian harps and the wind and the soul all get mixed up together. (I like that mental image--it makes me think of a pretty woods, with harp-strings going sproing! and flying in all directions.) I further think Postmodernism quietly usurped that line of thought--the Aeolian harp emotion bit, I mean. I suppose, if you're defining your own reality, your emotions are about your only guide and therefore it really is a tyranny for someone to dictate those emotions.
I would go about this entirely differently: in the beginning was God, and He set up reality for us. I keep thinking of phrases like, "Rejoice, O Israel!" and "Husbands, love your wives." Yes, love is a verb and all that, but if it's not a commanded emotion too, I don't want it. Emotion is no longer so important, so bloated, so all-encompassing, and so emotions too can be brought into their proper service.
I also think of Lewis' Abolition of Man and his discussion of Men Without Chests. They have Stomachs--meaning appetites of one sort and another--and they have Heads--meaning reason of one sort and another. It's the Chest, the seat of the emotion, that never gets trained. And when things get a trifle sticky, it's not the Head that says "I am about to get shot and therefore I will stay right here"--it's the Chest that says "Yeah I know I'm about to get shot, but there's this flag, you see," and stays.
I don't want to go overboard and say "Yes! People should dictate emotions to one another all the time!" But I do think that if there's a common reality, there's the possibility for right and wrong feelings in relationship to it. So. Taylor Swift wasn't just being dumb, but I do think she was incorrect. Opinions?
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