When I was a kid, we walked to school through three feet of snow, uphill both ways; all we had to play with was a stick and a pile of dirt, and we were grateful; and there was this crazy part of speech known as the adverb.
One nice thing about working at a publisher is that I get to be around other people who care about the difference between there, their, and they're. One of my colleagues was lamenting the disappearance of the adverb this week. And I've already done my own lamenting about shifting trends in subject-verb agreement when it comes to singular nouns that denote groups. And as much as I believe in following conventions for the sake of clear and effective communication, and as much as it pains me to say it, I think this is just how language evolves. It's interesting to think that language can change significantly within one generation. By the time my peers and I are in our eighties, will usage that's considered incorrect now be acceptable and even taught in schools? Perhaps I shouldn't protest so much and just accept the inevitable.
Like being trapped in the tundra and finding a place by a rock where I can sit and let cold, numbing death slowly overwhelm me.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Sunday, December 06, 2009
The Grinch vs. "The Christmas Shoes"
There have been discussions bouncing around my pastor's blog and in the recent sermons about whether Christmas is too consumeristic or whether it's nifty and people just need to chill with the Scrooginess. Rather than coming down on one side of the other, I'll give you my little theory about why there are sides at all: We all need something different. I kinda meant to save that for the last paragraph or two, but here it is right at the beginning! But if you listen to people talk about why they love/hate this season and all its trappings, it usually comes down to personal experience, and what they want to embrace or feel the need to reject. There's no right or wrong stance, because on one side is people saying, "People have bad experiences and do bad things," and on the other side is people saying, "But some people have good experiences and do good things," and both are true and neither negates the other.
So, some folks have bad memories from childhood, or don't have anyone to celebrate with, or can't afford to buy things for people, or feel pressured to participate in the extravagant materialism, and they'd like the world to ease up on the Christmas already. And others love the lights and the opportunity to give or the opportunity to receive and the baking and the trees, and don't want anyone raining on their parade. Of course, there are variances and nuances, and I'm not trying to oversimplify anyone's feelings. What I'm saying is that maybe it's OK to fall anywhere in that spectrum of approaches, and perhaps we don't need to make it so antagonistic. One person feels accused or left out and vents a little, and other people react, and suddenly we have a volley of hard-line stances and recriminations: "You're a mindless consumer who doesn't care about the third world!" "Well, you're a Grinch who doesn't know how to have fun!" And on it goes.
How about a little less accusation and a little more invitation to find some joy, each in their own way?
So, some folks have bad memories from childhood, or don't have anyone to celebrate with, or can't afford to buy things for people, or feel pressured to participate in the extravagant materialism, and they'd like the world to ease up on the Christmas already. And others love the lights and the opportunity to give or the opportunity to receive and the baking and the trees, and don't want anyone raining on their parade. Of course, there are variances and nuances, and I'm not trying to oversimplify anyone's feelings. What I'm saying is that maybe it's OK to fall anywhere in that spectrum of approaches, and perhaps we don't need to make it so antagonistic. One person feels accused or left out and vents a little, and other people react, and suddenly we have a volley of hard-line stances and recriminations: "You're a mindless consumer who doesn't care about the third world!" "Well, you're a Grinch who doesn't know how to have fun!" And on it goes.
How about a little less accusation and a little more invitation to find some joy, each in their own way?
Snow: A Positive Post
It snowed last night, which was awesome. It started out as rain, which is wet and cold, and I went out, and it turned to snow for me, which you can brush off, and I was all, "Yes!" Ha ha, yes!
And then after I got home, I went out again. I changed into the Greatest Parka Known to Man, Even When Taking Its Frumpiness into Consideration, and went to the grocery store. Cuz I really needed to, y'all. I let the supplies run down before Thanksgiving weekend and then I got a little sick and I was living off of cereal and pasta for a week. I made up a little ditty about my little foray to the market, which involved saying grocery like "grocer-ay," but I don't remember it off the top of my head. Anyway, best night to go to the store. A ghost town, man. Luxury. And then we hoofed it home again, my parka and me. In the snow, which was neato torpedo.
I spent some quality time this morning with some angry thoughts about Snow Haters. I was going to post some hate in response. But now I'm thinking, let's end the hate. I'll just explain where I'm coming from, invite you to join me, and let you make your own choice, because how you respond to snow is a deeply personal decision.
I rather startled my roommate last night with my impassioned defense of snow. Here's where I think all my impassionedosity comes from: I grew up with snow, and liked it the way any kid would: Yay, it's something pretty to play in, and maybe you get a day off school. How can you beat that? When I grew up and heard fellow grown-ups declaring they hated snow, I was shocked. Do you also hate weekends and compliments? How could you hate something so pretty and fun and get-out-of-schooly? The response: "It's hard to drive in." That seemed like the kind of grown-up-ness they warned me about in Saturday morning TV. Not for me!
But it was also more personal than that. I loved snow without question, and when people declare they hate it, I hear, "I hate this thing you love." It's like telling somebody they're "wasting time" on a hobby they love, or that the food they're eating is disgusting and you would never touch it. Even weather people are guilty, saying that 75-degree weather in mid-December is "gorgeous" and a lovely snowstorm that means you get to make snow angels and drink hot chocolate without sweating through your sweater is somehow "awful." Says who?
So I'll try not to be grouchy when people don't want to feel the cold and don't want their heating bills to go up and don't want to drive slower and don't know how they'll watch their kids when school is canceled. If you'll try not to hate when even the ugliest parts of town look unsoiled and peaceful for a few precious hours after the snow has fallen; if numb fingers and toes make me feel like I've earned an evening warming them up again with a yummy hot drink; if all the songs about Christmas being snowy are like prayers and celebrations for me; if I feel like when it snows, it's a gift and I don't have to just be happy because other people get things they like -- I get to have things I like, too.
And then after I got home, I went out again. I changed into the Greatest Parka Known to Man, Even When Taking Its Frumpiness into Consideration, and went to the grocery store. Cuz I really needed to, y'all. I let the supplies run down before Thanksgiving weekend and then I got a little sick and I was living off of cereal and pasta for a week. I made up a little ditty about my little foray to the market, which involved saying grocery like "grocer-ay," but I don't remember it off the top of my head. Anyway, best night to go to the store. A ghost town, man. Luxury. And then we hoofed it home again, my parka and me. In the snow, which was neato torpedo.
I spent some quality time this morning with some angry thoughts about Snow Haters. I was going to post some hate in response. But now I'm thinking, let's end the hate. I'll just explain where I'm coming from, invite you to join me, and let you make your own choice, because how you respond to snow is a deeply personal decision.
I rather startled my roommate last night with my impassioned defense of snow. Here's where I think all my impassionedosity comes from: I grew up with snow, and liked it the way any kid would: Yay, it's something pretty to play in, and maybe you get a day off school. How can you beat that? When I grew up and heard fellow grown-ups declaring they hated snow, I was shocked. Do you also hate weekends and compliments? How could you hate something so pretty and fun and get-out-of-schooly? The response: "It's hard to drive in." That seemed like the kind of grown-up-ness they warned me about in Saturday morning TV. Not for me!
But it was also more personal than that. I loved snow without question, and when people declare they hate it, I hear, "I hate this thing you love." It's like telling somebody they're "wasting time" on a hobby they love, or that the food they're eating is disgusting and you would never touch it. Even weather people are guilty, saying that 75-degree weather in mid-December is "gorgeous" and a lovely snowstorm that means you get to make snow angels and drink hot chocolate without sweating through your sweater is somehow "awful." Says who?
So I'll try not to be grouchy when people don't want to feel the cold and don't want their heating bills to go up and don't want to drive slower and don't know how they'll watch their kids when school is canceled. If you'll try not to hate when even the ugliest parts of town look unsoiled and peaceful for a few precious hours after the snow has fallen; if numb fingers and toes make me feel like I've earned an evening warming them up again with a yummy hot drink; if all the songs about Christmas being snowy are like prayers and celebrations for me; if I feel like when it snows, it's a gift and I don't have to just be happy because other people get things they like -- I get to have things I like, too.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Pink and Snow and Christmas and Happy
It got up to 69 degrees in Boston today. Plenty of people were delighted. I don't mind being comfortable outside, honest I don't, but weather like this weirds me the heck out. It's December! In Boston! I moved up here because I wanted snow for Christmas without all the worrying -- and believe you me, I do worry when I don't think the temperature leading up to the big day is falling fast enough. I'm like a little kid. Or great big baby. Want snow! Want snow now!
I know I talk about this every year. But I feel the need to vent because Facebook is full of people who are rejoicing over the warm weather. I don't want to hate all over their updates, but I gotta let this out somewhere. So the blog it is.
My blog is pink and pink is the color of candy and candy comes from the North Pole and so does Santa and Santa is Christmassy and the North Pole is snowy and I like Christmas snowy and I like my blog because it's pink and Christmassy and snowy even though it's pink and snow isn't pink.
Unless the Cat in the Hat gets pink cat-ring all over it.
But that is neither here nor there.
It isn't even anywhere.
It's not in a house,
It's not with a mouse,
It's not on the stair,
It's not in a chair.
It's not in the sky, where snowflakes should fly.
It's not on the ground, where snow drifts should mound.
I do not like green deciduous trees in December.
I do not like them.
Holly I am.
I know I talk about this every year. But I feel the need to vent because Facebook is full of people who are rejoicing over the warm weather. I don't want to hate all over their updates, but I gotta let this out somewhere. So the blog it is.
My blog is pink and pink is the color of candy and candy comes from the North Pole and so does Santa and Santa is Christmassy and the North Pole is snowy and I like Christmas snowy and I like my blog because it's pink and Christmassy and snowy even though it's pink and snow isn't pink.
Unless the Cat in the Hat gets pink cat-ring all over it.
But that is neither here nor there.
It isn't even anywhere.
It's not in a house,
It's not with a mouse,
It's not on the stair,
It's not in a chair.
It's not in the sky, where snowflakes should fly.
It's not on the ground, where snow drifts should mound.
I do not like green deciduous trees in December.
I do not like them.
Holly I am.
Nor Sure Whether I Should Share This or Not
So I'm gonna, because I don't have a whole lot else to say. For your entertainment, here's a little exchange I inflicted upon my roommate a few minutes ago:
Her: You want $25 for free?
Me: What do I have to lick?
[Pause.]
Her: I may never recover from the images that came to mind when you said that.
Me: It could be a lollipop.
Her: You want $25 for free?
Me: What do I have to lick?
[Pause.]
Her: I may never recover from the images that came to mind when you said that.
Me: It could be a lollipop.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
One More Thing about That Movie
It made me want to be an actress.
I wanted that already, but this made me re-want it. The way the animators made visual magic, the actors made magic with their voices. I want to do that with my voice, with my face, with my body. I want to create something both real and super-real.
A modest dream, no?
I wanted that already, but this made me re-want it. The way the animators made visual magic, the actors made magic with their voices. I want to do that with my voice, with my face, with my body. I want to create something both real and super-real.
A modest dream, no?
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