Perhaps not as weighty a consideration as that of the famed Prince of Denmark… at any rate, I’ve decided not to trackback. That is, I have disabled trackbacks for my system. I will still trackback others’ sites when I link them, but on this end, allowing trackbacks has proved to be rather fruitless. First of all, most people who link me don’t trackback. That’s fine; I don’t really mind. Second, for some reason, my spam filter blocks anyone who tracksback with a Blogspot blog on Blogger, even legitimate trackbacks. Perhaps this is due to the large number of splogs on Blogger. Finally, of the countless trackbacks I’ve received, maybe five — website wide, not just for this blog — have been legitimate. Considering that in some form or another, parts of this website have been live for a year and a half, that’s not a stellar record. My spam filter manages to block or moderate all of the trackback spam, but I do have to spend a few minutes each day deleting trackback spam from my junk folder. Considering how few benefits I get out of it, I decided it simply wasn’t worth it to continue accepting trackbacks. I doubt it will inconvenience anyone, but I thought I’d annouce the change anyway.
Lazy Sunday
If you didn’t catch the SNL video (like me), but wondered what all the folks at the water cooler (or in my case, students at lunch) were laughing about, never fear. You too can follow Andy Samberg and Chris Parnell on their quest to see The Chronic WHAT! cles of Narnia.
Hat tip to Jonathan Coulton.
Update: I mistakenly referred to Andy Samberg as “Adam.” Sorry for any confusion.
Gathering Blue
OK, what did you think happened at the end of The Giver? If you haven’t read that book and you want to, you probably shouldn’t read any further. You were warned.
I was sure that Jonas and Gabe died in the snow — that the house with the lights was a trick of Jonas’s imagination as he succumbed to hypothermia. I guess I’m a bit of a pessimist, then? However, Lois Lowry answers this question in her FAQ:
What happened at the end of THE GIVER?
I made the ending ambiguous on purpose. “Ambiguous” means that it can have different explanations. I like to leave it that way so that each reader can use his or her imagination and decide what is happening. But I do think it is a happy ending.
I fail to see how Lowry might consider Jonas and Gabe dying a “happy ending,” so that must mean the light was real and they were rescued. I did some digging online and found out that there is now a trilogy. I had heard of Gathering Blue, but not Messenger. With the teaser that Gathering Blue mentions Jonas in an oblique way and that he would be a character in Messenger, I decided to pick up these two books.
I have just finished Gathering Blue. I think overall that it is a weaker story than The Giver, which I enjoyed much more. This novel, like The Giver, is set in some future time after an apparent nuclear holocaust. In Kira’s village, people live in primitive fashion — disabled people are left to die in “the Field,” children are abused, and mysterious “beasts” lurk in the woods and will attack anyone who strays too far.
Kira has a gift for needlework and is spared death despite the fact that she has a physical disability. When her mother dies, the Council of Guardians taps her for a special job — she will restore and complete the Singer’s robe. Like the Giver in the first book, the Singer memorized the account of life up to and through the Ruin, when man was nearly destroyed.
I did not find that I sympathized as much with these characters as I did the characters in The Giver. I think I just identified more with Jonas. I could “see” the setting in The Giver. The contrast between a supposedly civlized society with barbaric practices — Release — seemed much more poignant. It was much easier to imagine Kira’s society did awful things to its citizens when they themselves treated each other so poorly on a regular basis.
Still, if you want to be reassured about Jonas, you’ll probably want to read this bridge book so you can understand Messenger — my next project.
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Public Service Announcements
I spent a large portion of my early afternoon on Nick Jr.’s website with Maggie and Dylan. If you have small children, I wanted to make you aware that there are several videos available at the site, including full episodes of Blue’s Clues. Click the “Play Now” button the the box labeled “Nick Jr. Playtime” for access to the high quality video; the videos on the individual show pages are often lower quality and don’t include links to the whole episodes, either. The screen is small — 5X4; my kids didn’t seem to care. There are, of course, lots of other things to do and see there, including games and stories. If you’re looking for things to do with your toddler or preschooler online, that’s a pretty good website to go to.
Also, in my travels on the web today, I became aware of something you bloggers who find commenting trolls tiresome might value: You Read It Right: Complete Blog Commenting Guidelines (via The Dawn Patrol). The creators invite bloggers to link to the guidelines, which are much more comprehensive than the guidelines I already had up, so I believe I’ll be replacing my rather weak attempt at thinking of everything with theirs. The only thing I might add is that if your comments are often longer than the entries upon which you comment, then you should consider getting your own blog — you obviously have a lot to say. Then again, I guess that should not be a hard and fast rule so much as a suggestion. I think these guidelines, similar to those of Read Me: A Blogger Disclaimer can help newbies to blogging (as well as some of the “oldbies”). I realize that introducing “standards of conduct” may seem galling to some, but those who are offended or don’t like it for some reason are free not to use it on their own blogs or not to comment or read the blogs of those who use them.
So those are my two PSA’s for today, most decidedly aimed, I suppose, at mommy bloggers.
Armchair Psychoanalysis
I classified this as a rant, but as rants go, it’s not really that vehement. It’s more like old Andy Rooney’s, “You know what I don’t like?” Armchair psychoanalysis. I have been given a couple of doses of it recently by people who don’t know me all that well, nor do they know much about the situation they seek to advise me about. Even more interesting, however, has been the wealth of opinion on the subject of mandatory reporting of abuse over at Steve’s site. Heck, I understand what they’re trying to say, but most of them were looking at what they thought was best instead of what was actually legal. Sometimes, indeed, those two things aren’t the same. In this case, I’m not convinced that’s true, however. I just find it a bit alarming that so many people seem to think they have the ability to psychoanalyze others to the degree that they do. I suppose a site like Steve’s invites it. I guess I don’t wax controversial too much over here, and that’s fine with me.
Truth be told, my husband is one of the worst as far as armchair psychoanalysis goes. I think he’s aware of it, and I think he actually enjoys it. I don’t think it even bothers him so much when someone else does it to him. However, I admit to becoming if not angry, then certainly peeved when some schmoe who doesn’t know his or her ass from her armpit tells me what’s wrong with me and how I can fix it. There was a famous rabbi once who said, “physican, heal thyself.” If it’s annoying coming from Steve, then you can bet it’s incredibly irritating coming from a stranger. Especially a stranger who appears to be mentally unbalanced in his or her own right. I think the best thing a friend can do when someone close to them is going through something painful is to be there and listen. On the other hand, I think if you don’t really know the person all that well, perhaps you ought to bite your tongue — there are just so many layers to people, and you probably don’t have all the facts. No matter how much you think you know or want to help, you just wind up being a nuisance — sort of this “I know what your problem is, here’s what you need to do.” If done in the wrong way, I think it can be harmful, and I shouldn’t wonder if real mental health officials don’t get extremely upset over this issue.
Update: My fault for not being clear, but I had reasons. If you think this applies to you, ask me first before you assume.
OK, I Lied
I do indeed think that the idea that our whole city might participate in a book club is really cool. Honest. But they chose the book that was on the bottom of my list! I really don’t want to read it. And despite what I said about participating no matter which book was chosen, I have decided I’m just going to read by myself. I saw October Sky, and I even liked it, but I really don’t want to read Rocket Boys right now. Rocket Boys? Out of the list of books, the city chose Rocket Boys? I’m still scratching my head over that one.
I have three more days until my vacations. I need a vacation. I’m so tired. Teaching the research paper stresses me out.
My car is doing that weird shift thing again. Of course it wasn’t fixed. I hoped.
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Life Studies: Stories
Inside my copy of Susan Vreeland’s Life Studies there is an inscription which reads, “Dana, Warmly, Susan Vreeland.” Nearly a year ago, I drove to the library in Decatur, which usually only takes about 30 minutes, but actually took an hour in the downpour and the dark. Susan Vreeland is an engaging reader. Perhaps that comes with 30 years of teaching high school English. I found myself wishing I’d been in her class. She must have been something.
I truly enjoyed Girl in Hyacinth Blue, which can also be viewed as a collection of short stories, except each story is about the same painting. The ownership of the painting is traced back from the present to its creation. To each owner it means something else, and each owner has his or her own story.
Life Studies is also about the stories behind art, but it is different from Girl in Hyacinth Blue. Clearly, Vreeland has a penchant for nineteenth century art, especially Impressionism. I read this book in pieces, picking up a story here and there over the course of the last year. I found something to enjoy in each, and I appreciated the fact that Vreeland put the art mentioned in the book up at her website. Each story is unique and has its charms. The first half of the book is devoted more to the actual artists. We learn of their lives either through them directly or through those they have touched — lovers, servants, neighbors, and children. The second half is devoted to ordinary people and their reactions to and affections for art.
Of the stories, I think my favorite was “In the Absence of Memory,” which was about the daughter of Amadeo Modigliani. I knew nothing of Modigliani before I read this story, but his story was very interesting. Of the stories, I shouldn’t wonder if this one was the one Vreeland researched the most, as I discovered Modigliani’s daughter Jeanne did indeed write Modigliani: Man and Myth (out of print), for which Vreeland expresses “gratitude” to Jeanne Modigliani’s “forthrightness.”
Second perhaps to “In the Absence Memory,” perhaps was “Crayon, 1955.” Vreeland states that it is semiautobiographical, and it reminded me a little bit of To Kill a Mockingbird. The young protagonist gets a chance to “walk around” in her neighbor’s “skin” when she is asked to take care of her plants while the intrepid neighbor is in Guatamala on an archaeological dig. What she learns fascinates her.
As a teacher, I enjoyed “At Least Five Hundred Words.” If you’ve ever been made to write a punitive essay or do lines, you’ll appreciate the humor and poignancy of that story. However, “Their Lady Tristeza,” which documents the miraculous appearance of a nude Virgin in the form of Matisse’s Nu Bleu on a classroom whiteboard fell flat for me. Something just didn’t quite gel.
I think art-lovers in particular would enjoy this book, but there is a little something for everyone to relate to in Life Studies; all of us have experienced loss, pain, wonder, joy, and curiosity, whether through art or just the art of living.
Blue Christmas
For those of you who like to wallow in depression during this cheery season, I bring you some of my favorite breakup songs. I hope you enjoy, and you can leave comments about the songs on this entry.
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So Far…
… so good on the car. It is still shifting smoothly. I can only attribute it to one of two things 1) the new PCV valve, 2) something my ex used to call PFM (the “p”=pure and the “m”=magic; I’ll let you fill in the rest).
I bought Sarah a copy of Dragonology and its companion book, The Dragonology Handbook for her 12th birthday, which is today. She’s spending it with her dad. The books look really good. I’m going to sit down and look them over before I wrap them. Sarah is really into dragons right now. She wanted to read The Hobbit, because she heard there was a dragon in it. We have been reading it together, and we’re not to the part yet where Smaug is destroyed. She is rooting for Smaug, and I hope she won’t be disappointed when he goes down. At any rate, I hope she likes her birthday present. I can’t believe she’s 12.
Twelve years ago at almost this exact moment, I was giving birth to her. She was born in a Navy hospital. It was windy and snowy outside. I didn’t get to hold her after she was born. Instead of asserting my rights as a mother, I patiently waited while my mother and ex passed her back and forth. Then they took her away. I asked my doctor when I’d get to hold her, and he looked sort of stricken — he hadn’t realized I hadn’t been able to — and he said the pediatrician would be checking her in the nursery; after that, maybe. I waited and waited. I went into shock and had to go into Recovery before they took me to my room. I remember getting out of bed, clutching the back of my hospital gown closed, grabbing my IV cart, and padding down the hall to look at her through the glass. The nurses sort of glared at me, but I told them I hadn’t seen my daughter. That was when I first got a really good look at her. She looked like her daddy. Still does. Some time, hours later, they wheeled her bassinette into my room, which was stifling. My roommate had had a C-section. She had a baby boy — her second. He was huge — something like 9 or 10 pounds. I wished later that I had got her address so we could keep in touch.
Sarah really loves to read, and I like to take the credit for that. I still read to her. I don’t think that’s something people totally grow out of — enjoying being read to — why else would books on tape be so popular? She likes school. She’s neat kid, and we have some pretty interesting talks.
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Just a Note
If you know me personally and you’re reading this, I would appreciate it if you would quit skulking around and tell me. It feels sneaky… Mom and Dad.