Musings on Freedom of Speech

My Facebook feed is infected with tons of shared articles and people taking a stand for or against Chick-fil-A president Dan Cathey's stance against gay marriage. I have a lot of conservative friends (how can I not? I'm from East Texas for goodness' sake), and some of them go back and forth or just say they support the message, yadda yadda yadda.  I'm remaining quiet (there) because I don't feel like fighting with anyone, though no one would be surprised that I of course do not support that stance: I think homosexuals should be allowed to marry and have all the rights enjoyed by heterosexuals.  What is so surprising and so baffling to me, though, is that even my conservative friends don't seem to understand that Dan Cathey probably wouldn't approve of most of their ideas of family--hell, most of them wouldn't qualify to operate one of his restaurants, given his requirements! Whatever do I mean? Well, look at what he said:

"We are very much supportive of the family -- the biblical definition of the family unit," Cathy said. "We are a family-owned business, a family-led business, and we are married to our first wives. We give God thanks for that." http://www.cnn.com/2012/08/01/us/chick-fil-a-appreciation/index.html

Here's the thing: most Americans wouldn't fit that definition--I'm zeroing in on the whole "we are married to our first wives" statement.  I think that under such a definition (let's assume he probably means families in which the children are born to couples married before the child is born and in which the couple remains married, and neither spouse is on their second or third marriage after divorcing, etc.), many of the people who are happily munching on their Chick-fil-A waffle fries to supposedly defend their beliefs in the immorality of gay marriage don't realize that their beliefs probably aren't shared by Dan Cathey.  Just think of your own friends and acquaintances--how many are divorced? How many had a child out of wedlock? How many had premarital sex or lived with someone before they married?  Like so many things, people focus so much on one of the consequences of a particular belief system that they don't extrapolate the belief system to see the others: that the person who sounds like he is your ally in one arena is likely going to be judging you in another. 

How can most Americans claim to even understand such a notion as the so-called "traditional" definition of marriage?  So many of us have never experienced it, or have seen it self-combust in our own families.  So many of us were brought up in a hodge-podge of blended families and aunts who are still called aunts but who are no longer really married to uncles and so on.  We still talk to our former mother-in-laws and we're Facebook friends with our ex-husband's new wife and sometimes we even celebrate our holidays together. We've been recreating the idea of family for so many years that we don't even recognize when it isn't traditional anymore. And you know what? It's fine.

Another thing that baffles me is that people seem to confuse freedom of speech with freedom from the consequences of exercising freedom of speech. They are not the same thing.  I agree that Cathey has a right to exercise his freedom of speech and to spout his anti-gay message and to put his money into supporting anti-gay causes.  But no one should expect those who don't agree with his message to continue supporting him.  That isn't what freedom of speech guarantees.  He can't be arrested or prosecuted for the things he says, but there's nothing that guarantees his protection from negative press or other types of fallout for voicing his beliefs.  Just as anyone else, when possible, I try to keep my money from going to causes and projects with which I disagree--in a nation in which we have to live together and supply the government with some money for the common good, I know that sometimes I have to support things I otherwise wouldn't (money for wars, costs for prisons to continue death row operations, etc.).  But I'll be damned if I'll knowingly feed money to someone who is actively trying to prevent others from enjoying civil rights I believe they deserve. 

The fact that in most states, it is illegal for a significant segment of the population of consenting adults to marry the person they love seems in opposition to the freedom that our nation is supposed to offer.  I think that so many simply suffer from a lack of imagination: they do not bother to put themselves in the shoes of homosexuals, and to really and truly consider the notion that a law-abiding, tax-paying person could be barred from marrying the person they truly love, who is another human adult who just happens to be of the same sex.  Is it so difficult to imagine a world in which it is absolutely illegal for you to marry the person with whom you are in love?  Legalizing same-sex marriage will not automatically usher in a host of other types of marriages--there's no good reason to think that it is grounds for allowing human-animal marriages, pedophilia, or even multiple spouses.  There are very good reasons for barring those other types of relationships that do not apply to marriages between same-sex partners.

In any case, that is my rant.  I've hidden it out here, where hardly anyone comes, but it is nice to have it out there anyway.  

 

What's New?

So I have been a bit silent here--and that's not unusual.  I get really busy, and between my other blogs it is sometimes hard to find time to gather my thoughts enough to write something here.  Besides, my life isn't exactly a er...gripping read. Most of my time these days is spent telling my daughter "stop it" and "no" and "don't stand on that--you'll break your neck." 

In the time I've been gone, at least two big things have happened.  I turned thirty and my daughter turned one!  I took stock of my status in life at thirty and for the most part, things are pretty nice: loving husband, adorable daughter, no debt, stable job with benefits, actively pursuing another career path that promises to be intellectually stimulating, and I'm still writing my silly stories and planning to write them in a more serious manner at some point.  There are, however, a few stormclouds that cannot be ignored--father with cancer, family and many close friends who live very far away, and that perpetual feeling that there just isn't enough time in the day, and possibly not enough time in a life. 

On the whole, I know I am a very lucky individual.  I try to focus on that instead of on the things that aren't working out to make a perfect life for me--compared to the majority of people, anything I'm suffering is laughably minor.  If I can't do anything about the stormclouds, then I just hope that soon, the weather in that area of my life will change for the better.  You don't cancel the picnic when there's only a ten percent chance of rain.

New haircut...

So I got a new haircut.  It's short again, which is much more in keeping with my lifestyle and personality.  I took the following picture to a local place that has cosmetology students (have I mentioned that I'm super reluctant to spend much on my hair? In other words, I'm cheap?):

Unfortunately, I got something that wasn't quite that haircut.  It wasn't really bad...but it wasn't what I'd wanted.  The silhouette was completely wrong--too long in the back and on the sides and too short at the top.  After pointing to the picture several times and saying, "Make it look like that" I finally just told the poor cosmetology student that it looked great and I paid and left.  I went home, hoping it would magically look like what I'd wanted, and of course it didn't.  I thought, "Maybe it will look better with razored ends or something".  And then I looked up how to do that, and I did it myself!

I know, I know--you're thinking that's taking a ridiculous risk--but here was my reasoning:

1. I wasn't very happy with it the way it was.
2. If I messed it up, I would just go to a different salon and get them to fix it.
3. If it worked, then that would save me time and money!

Here was the result of my efforts:

 

Trust me--it looks a lot closer to what I wanted than what I had when I came home.  I'm pretty happy with the results.  It probably looks crazy from certain angles, but so far I can't really find anything that seems too out of place.  I'm considering putting in some highlights, too......

 

So Smug...

So I think I'm in one of those moods in which I take exception to just about everything.  I'm pretty sure I am, because I've been arguing with my mother-in-law for several days about an article I posted on Facebook, and I keep seeing people I generally like posting things that irritate me.  It's difficult to deal with these moods without ruining friendships, so I'll bask in the secluded nature of this corner and vent a little.

I'm going to talk about smugness.  It happens to the best of us.  I love the movie Bridget Jones's Diary (and the book), and the scene when she's dealing with smug married people is always a little painful.  I hate that she flounders and doesn't feel confident or whole in a group of paired-off people.  And until I had a baby, I didn't have any idea that there was a whole other group of people--the smug childless people.  For any parent, you know the ones I'm talking about.  Whenever you are obviously happy or excited about your child, they are the ones who generally bring back the conversation to how much sleep you are not getting or how stinky the diapers are.

I wonder if the reaction they have is because they think parents are smug? Maybe some parents are.  I don't know.  I rarely feel smug about my parenthood--most of the time I feel like I'm blundering about like an idiot.  In any case, here's an observation: if your primary arguments against having children are that you don't want to deal with diapers or with a lack of sleep, then obviously you shouldn't have children.  Obviously.  In fact, you probably shouldn't have a pet, either.  Those produce waste that often has to be picked up or taken away, they get sick, and on occasion they keep you up at night, too. 

Look--there's nothing wrong with not wanting to have a child. I once felt that way, too! But here's the big difference--I didn't act like a smug asshole about it.  I didn't gloat about my childless, simpler existence to my parent friends.  And I didn't act like they were objects of pity all the time, either, or like they ceased to exist as people and simply became these entities that existed only for their children, EVEN if they talked about their children a lot. If I'm misremembering and I did that to anyone, I authorize you to tell me that I did, and I will apologize to you--because it's SO annoying to be treated that way.

I have a young child, and I don't get as much sleep as I once did, that's true--but so what?  Sleep is nice, but having my baby is a lot better.  Even in the midst of waking up in the middle of the night because she's rolling around and kicking me in the back, I look at her in complete wonder because I can't believe that I was able to produce something so absolutely beautiful and amazing. I'm content to watch her sleep because she is endlessly fascinating to me.  I love her more than just about anything else in this world.  In the face of feeling something like that, an uninterrupted night's sleep, in comparison, is overrated.

Baby Steps

Losing the baby weight is hard, my friends.  Ever since I seriously began trying, I've lost about ten pounds, and that was a great feeling--a lot of momentum that was achieved mostly by adjusting my eating habits.  Now that momentum has stalled and I'm at the point where I need to start exercising to keep the weight loss going. 

When I'm very good, I'm doing some weight training once a week with a friend on Sunday mornings.  We haven't been able to keep this up regularly and we've missed for the last month at least due to various things--illnesses and life stuff just elbowing it aside.  In the past two or three weeks, I've been trying to work out during the week, too.  I've been hula-hooping and jump-roping, usually for sessions that total no more than thirty minutes. It's not much, but it's fun and for someone as out of shape as I am, it's plenty challenging. I'm trying to master the art of walking forwards and backwards while hula-hooping, which is surprisingly difficult to do.  People do some amazing things with hula hoops--if I get any good and learn some of the cool tricks I'll have Michael record me one day.  

Pioneer Woman Pork Chops

So tonight I made one of the most delicious meals I have ever made. It is all thanks to this recipe from The Pioneer Woman. You know you want to see the pictures.

First, my husband drank a glass of wine (the same I used to cook the dish) while I cooked.  I thought this was fair, since he had to corral a very fussy baby to give me time to prepare this delicious feast.

 

And after a little while, this was the result:

 

Aaaaand another just to capture the sheer deliciousity (no, it's not a word--at least, not one that spell check recognizes...):

 

I'm actually not the biggest fan of pork chops--but it turns out that I'm just not a fan of pork chops that aren't covered in a garlic wine sauce. Yum, yum, yum. 

Reviving this Blog

I'm reviving this blog because I find that I need a place to talk about things that don't really fit on the blog about my baby, nor do they fit well...anywhere else, really.  It feels a little self-indulgent...but I'm going to do it anyway.

I'm going to do a quick run-through of all the things I've been thinking about/doing lately that I've felt compelled to write about:

1. My father was diagnosed with a rather aggressive and rare form of cancer late last year. He's fighting very hard every day, and he has a lot of fighting left to do--but I firmly believe that he can do it.
2. My mother, who works in a prison, was made a sergeant.  She hasn't worked there very long, but she has already accomplished so much, and I am very proud of her for that.
3. I will start taking classes this summer at the local community college to get my postbaccalaureate diploma in paralegal studies.  While I do like my current job and my coworkers, I am not sure that I can see myself doing this sort of work for the rest of my life.  I think that in the right setting, a position as a paralegal would be well-suited to my temperament and strengths, and I think it is also important in this particular economy to make yourself marketable in many areas, if possible.
4. I have started a "diet" that is more of a lifestyle change--I eat like a French woman, which is to say, I watch my portions, eat three full meals a day, and I don't pay attention to things like calories or whether something is whole-wheat or whatever. It's awesome, and has resulted in a slow but steady weight loss for me (I need to lose my baby weight).
5. I write stuff.  I know that you're thinking, "Of course you do--I'm reading the blog you wrote" but what I mean to say is that I write fiction.  I write stuff that other people read, and I have a really hard time letting people I know in real life (which is an absurd distinction, because my online writer friends are people I know in real life--they just aren't physically present) read this stuff.  I'm going to write a post about it someday, but if you ever stumble across my stuff and you aren't one of my many online friends who are already reading my stuff--don't talk to me about it. I can't talk to you about it. Not yet. 
6. I had the weirdest dream last night which featured a horrific mishap with a very strange steam-powered machine that sliced, buttered, and toasted french bread in mass quantities.  When I say horrific mishap, I mean that the machine somehow exploded, causing a person to be thrown out the kitchen window and burned with machine shrapnel all at the same time. I have absolutely no idea why I would have such a dream. 
7. This week I'm making this recipe, and I plan to blog about how it turns out.

OK, so that should do it for now! 

Questioning the Lessons from Little Women

Louisa May Alcott's Little Women is one of my favorite books. It was one of the first great works of literature I ever picked up, and I have read it over and over again through the years. As much as I love this work, however, I am still skeptical about some of the lessons that I think Alcott wanted the reader to take away. My favorite character in the book was Josephine March. Josephine (Jo) was a tomboy who loved to write. She was almost constantly plotting her next story, and she and her sisters would often act out her sensational dramas for their own personal entertainment. Jo even sold some of her stories to newspapers and periodicals, which really helped her family out during a difficult time (her father was fighting in the Civil War).

When Jo grew up, she moved to a boarding house in New York to work and write. She met Professor Friedrich Bhaer, who was a scholarly older man, and they struck up a friendship. When she sold one of her stories to a paper and excitedly brought it to him, he criticized her writing, basically telling her that her stories were low-brow and that she could write things that were much better. She was crushed, of course, and this was one of the defining moments in her life. Later, she produces a work more to his liking, and they end up married.

I remember being a bit puzzled about this when I first read it, and even sometimes now, if I think about it long enough. Do writers have a responsibility to produce a particular type of literature? Is there something wrong with producing light, easy, and fun stories? I'm bothered by the question because it was evident that Jo loved to write the types of stories she wrote before she was influenced by Professor Bhaer. It was also evident that her family, friends, and some of the public loved to read them. I think there's a time and place for each type of literature, and I think Professor Bhaer was acting like a judgmental ass when he made it seem like there was only one type of literature worth reading or producing.

Sometimes people want mindless fun. Books that have somewhat predictable plots and thrilling and unlikely events are about like movies and TV shows: they provide a temporary, welcome escape. I like to be caught up in a character's perplexing mystery or burgeoning romance. I also like deeper works that prompt questions about the way people live their lives or the right thing to do in a situation. There's a time and a place for both, and I don't see why one is "bad" while the other is "good". So, if I were Jo, I'd like to think that I would have pointed this out, then gone back to Concord and married Lawrence instead (he did end up pretty much supporting Jo and Prof. Bhaer later on anyway--maybe if Prof. Bhaer would have encouraged Jo to write stories that sold better, that wouldn't have been the case).

That is yet another point at which I (as well as other fans of the book) balk: Alcott had Jo choose to marry Prof. Bhaer instead of her best friend, the young and handsome Lawrence. Jo and Laurie had real chemistry, and a lifelong friendship, and yet Jo marries the significantly older Prof. Bhaer. Even the most recent movie adaptation of Little Women knew that would be a tough sell: Christian Bale as Laurie couldn't lose out to someone who looked and acted like the Prof. Bhaer described in the book (think Santa Claus but with reddish brown hair)--it became slightly more believable when they had Prof. Bhaer played by Gabriel Byrne. Hm. Alcott seemed to be saying that you should marry someone who will make you a better person, even if that means passing up someone for whom you have a real passion. I'm not sure how I feel about that point. It seems like you can get that same benefit from a friend, so why settle for only one of those things when you can have both? Jo could have married Laurie and corresponded with Prof. Bhaer. Dilemma solved. It seems that Alcott wasn't the greatest at thinking of alternatives--she didn't make much use of the inclusive sense of 'or'. As a result, she paints Jo into a corner. Jo has to choose between being a "bad" person and giving into all her more basic desires (writing thrilling literature, having a young, handsome, and passionate husband), and being a "good" person (writing great and lofty literature, having an older, uglier but wiser husband, doing good deeds and works to better humankind). So, while this book was certainly one of the most influential in my life, I still find some of the themes problematic.

I'm not a student anymore....

Well folks (or folk--I think only one or two people read this thing), I'm not a student anymore. I decided not to complete my Ph.D. in Philosophy, and now I'm trying to find a job in the Real World. It's tough going, because even though I'm fairly bright, highly motivated, and well-educated, I am unfamiliar with professional job application etiquette. I remain optimistic, despite some early application blunders. I'm being very organized, and have created an Excel Spreadsheet that keeps track of my job applications and their status. Sigh. Anyway, I'm starting a new way of life, and even though I haven't been immediately successful in obtaining gainful employment, I still feel I made the right decision.

Music and Leg-Shaving

I really like it when I hear a song and I know just how one would dance to it. I can picture how one should move in my mind. Only certain songs evoke this response, and I find that interesting. One such song is "Rock Lobster" by the B-52s. Just listen to it, and maybe you'll be able to picture how you should dance. It isn't because they describe how you should dance in the song--the music just makes it seem (to me at least) that there's really only one way you would dance to that song. While playing Guitar Hero III, I find it is the same situation with the song "Mississippi Queen" by Mountain. Weird, huh?

Speaking of weirdness, I noticed two things at the gym: 1) Mr. Sinew does not shave his legs; and 2) Mr. Bulky does shave his legs. Pretty funny. Next on the agenda is to see whether Mr. Bulky shaves his arms. I need to be careful--I think I have somehow captured the attention of Mr. Bulky (I guess I'm not as sneaky with my scrutiny as I need to be). I think I have caught him looking at me a time or two, and...well I won't state my second suspicion, because when it is typed out it just looks crazy. One thing is almost certain--if he is looking at me, it is not with some sort of romantic or sexual interest. I would wager it is either consternation or curiousity ("How can someone be that weak and live?"). What would be really bad is if he has a name for me. "Ah, there is Ms. Short and Squat."

Gym Stories

So I promised more stories about the characters from the gym, which I shall now deliver. Mr. Sinew is not very interesting--he comes in when I am finishing my workout, and thus I cannot really say much about him. Mr. Bulky is almost always around at the time I work out. He is somewhat interesting. Mr. Bulky has the face of a...well, a nerd, really. I sense an element of defiance in him: "Maybe I look like a nerd, but with a build like this, does it really matter?" It is not that I think there is something wrong with being a nerd (that's pretty much what I am, right?), but I wonder if that is what drives Mr. Bulky to spend so much time at the gym. I wonder if he was teased a lot in school, or bullied. Then again, maybe he thought working out would improve his chances with the ladies or the men. I'm pretty sure that he is not doing it primarily for the health benefits. He wants his body to look a certain way, and he has taken great care to get it to its current state. I keep meaning to try and see if he shaves his legs, as bodybuilders often do, but I never remember to look. Plus, I try not to look at him too often--everyone at the gym tries to refrain from looking at everyone else, especially the serious gym rats, and we certainly do not speak to each other. It is an unwritten rule of early morning gym etiquette.

Random Silly Thoughts

1. I've been going to the gym a lot lately, and have become used to seeing the hardcore gym rats. I have named two of the freakishly fit ones. One is heavily muscled in a bulgey, bulky way, and thus is named Mr. Bulky. The other one is heavily muscled in a lean way, and has muscles on top of muscles, almost all of which you can see because he has so little body fat. I call him Mr. Sinew. More on characters from the gym later.

2. If my current life were a movie, I would want my character song to be Santana's "Black Magic Woman." I'm pretty sure that isn't the song a director would pick, though. I'll have to think about what song would actually be played (which song would actually fit my personality, etc.). Feel free to make your own suggestions about which songs you think would fit my personality, or even better, what you would want your character songs to be, and what songs would actually be played.

3. Halloween parties are surprisingly thin on the ground this year. I have only heard rumblings of one in the philosophy department, and the host of that one cannot do it until the weekend after this one (meaning that the party would actually be held in November, *SIGH*). I feel like that is a sign that I'm getting too old for Halloween, and that is sad. Michael and I already have costumes and everything. Bleh.

The Philadelphia Story

Michael started feeling sick around 3:00 P.M. today, and when I got home after six, it was apparent that we would be staying in and resting. He wanted to be upstairs in bed, so we decided to watch a movie so that he could watch at it or sleep, depending on how he felt. We picked The Philadelphia Story. This is the one with Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and James Stewart. It has been one of my favorite movies since I discovered it as a teen, but it is a bit strange that it should be so. I see a lot of myself in Katharine Hepburn's character, Tracy Lord. Those who have actually watched the movie know that is not really a good thing. Tracy Lord is highly judgmental and proud, and so very certain that she is always right. She expects everyone around her to rise to her standards, and those standards seem exacting and perhaps unattainable to many around her. One of the great lines comes from her ex-husband, who tells her "You'll never be a first class human being or a first class woman until you've learned to have some regard for human frailty." It took me a long time to figure out the lesson of the film, because the dialogue is sparkling and entertaining on its own, and the performances are engrossing. I would like to think that I have more tolerance for human frailty now than I did as a teen, but I'm probably still a little too harsh. In any case, it is a wonderful movie, and I think it does a fine job of showing that too much judgment and too little forgiveness makes one into a cold statue, rather than a warm human being.

Gym Experience #3

Weight machines and being height-challenged just don't go together. I am convinced that workout machines are designed to make the people that actually need them feel ridiculous. Why does getting in shape require winding your body around bars and padded parts, resulting in lying prone in a position that is otherwise considered strange or indecent? WHY?

Gym Experience #2

Jorge did not show up. My new life as a gym-going person begins somewhat inauspiciously.

Gym Experience #1, kinda.

Technically, I have been to the Leach Center gym at least once before, so I guess I should instead claim that this is my second gym experience, but whatever. Since I have so much trouble working out late in the afternoon, I decided to start working out in the mornings at Leach Center. I'm still a little freaked out about taking most of my showers there, but I hope the benefits will outweigh the inconveniences. I thought I would try to be smart, and go today (Sunday) so I could see the lay of the land, and figure out what machines I would use, etc.. This did not work out as planned. I've never used weight machines before. Ever. As a result, I have no idea what these things do, the best combination in which I should use them, or how to adjust them for my height and ability. I just wandered around the weight machine area, looking lost and terrified. I finally choked back my pride and waddled up to the Fitness Counter (geez) and explained my predicament, being very honest. And that is why I now have an appointment tomorrow morning with someone named Jorge, who will talk with me and prescribe a workout program based upon my fitness goals, as well as show me which machines to use and how to use them. I know I should be relieved, but right now I'm still pretty scared. I'm sure I will have more to say about this particular experience later.

Ridiculous

So. This week I participated as an associate in a conference held by the Program for Instructional Excellence (PIE), and the first day was rather....not fun, just because I was one of the few poor souls assigned to the outdoor manual labor required in order to provide lunch and seating to about 300-350 people. Surprisingly, however, this wasn't the worst part of the day. That began soon after I got into my car (with the blistering hot steering wheel). I just wanted to get home as fast as possible, and I had just turned onto Jefferson, when lo and behold, I was suddenly behind a jeep filled with four guys. What was so bad about that, you may ask? Well, the fact that they were going TEN MILES AN HOUR down the street, slowing down to five at certain strategic spots. Why were they doing this? They were cruising down Jefferson, gaping at the slew of new potential sorority sisters packed under tents in front of the sorority houses. Just as I was about to punch my horn and lean out the window making colorful suggestions (I was very tired, very sweaty, and very angry, and thus not my usual reserved self), we came to a stop sign, and another car had the right of way, and got between us. What a STUPID way to spend your time. What an INCONSIDERATE thing to do to other drivers on a two-lane street. C'MON! (Said with Gob Bluth's intonation).

Books to Movies

Yesterday, the newest installment of one of my favorite books series came out, and I read it in a matter of five or six hours. The book is the latest in the Stephanie Plum series by the author Janet Evanovich. The series is about an inept female bounty hunter in New Jersey, with quirky and strange supporting characters. I find the novels hilarious and fun, and I can picture almost every character. This always makes me yearn for a movie adaptation of the books, and I consider who would make the best main characters, etc.. Then, I remember to be careful what I wish for. Case in point: the Nancy Drew movie that is in theaters now. Now, though it is true that I have not actually watched the movie, I did watch an extended preview a month or two before the movie was released in theaters. That preview told me all I needed to know: whoever made the film and wrote the scripts and screenplay never read a Nancy Drew novel.

This realization was quite upsetting. I counted the Nancy Drew novels as one of the more formative influences on my life. I wanted to be a detective for the longest time because Nancy Drew was SO FREAKING COOL! I did my best to develop the sorts of skills she had, like keen observation and careful analysis of facts. I carry a magnifying glass in my purse to this day, just in case. I know it sounds ridiculously nerdy, but I think the Nancy Drew series (both the 1930s series and the 1980s series) was great! Nancy Drew was a smart and quietly gutsy young woman, who was mature for her age and who had better things to do than worry about getting married and having babies (even in the 1930s!). She loved puzzles and mysteries, and she didn't usually wait for Ned Nickerson (her standby guy) to go and investigate some really creepy areas. While the movie may have got THAT right, what they didn't get right was everything else. They have made that series into a mockery of what it actually was, and I hate the fact that anyone exposed to the movie and not the book series will think I wasted much of my youth reading some sort of ridiculous bubblegum crap. The characters are shallow and senseless, and almost nothing like what they were in the series. Anyway, it won't help to rant now. I just wish that the people who make these movies cared as much about the books they're ransacking for ideas as the fans of the books. Why should Harry Potter be the only well-depicted series?

Um?

So. Michael was looking over the news on the internet today, and found this. I'm really not sure what to say, but....well. You'll see.

Mistaken Identity

I received something unexpected in my campus mailbox--a letter from a young girl who thought I was an author of a biography that she had read. It was a sweet letter, with questions about the author's present-day occupation, and a request for recommendations for other biographies written for the younger set. She also expressed some of her own goals and hopes, and it made me think that perhaps not all children will turn out quite like some of the kids I see in class. For the first time in a long time, I felt less cynical. I am trying my best to find information about the author, but I have some fears that the author may be deceased. I think this book was published for the first time in 1944....and I know for a fact that the illustrator is dead. The book is a Scholastic title, and one in a series of biographies. I sent an e-mail to the Scholastic publishing office, in the hopes that someone will have contact information for the author, or will at least be able to tell me if she is dead. In any case, I will be able to write the girl back and tell her of some sites that are loaded with information about biographies for younger readers, so I am happy about that, at least. I might even purchase one to send to her, by way of apology for being the wrong person. I was very touched by the fact that the girl was so inspired by the book that she took the time to try and contact the author. I wonder if this is what C.S. Lewis felt like, every time he received a letter from an adoring young fan? If so, I can understand why he felt compelled to try and answer every letter.