Suck it, 2012.

Delayed by regular bouts of stress and anxiety, behold: my belated post about how 2012 can piss off.

Now, I'm not a negative person. Really. I love life. I love walking my dog in the park, even when glared at by the homeless guy sleeping on the bench. I donate to The Sierra Club to save the Gray Wolf pups in peril at Yellowstone National Park. I genuinely enjoy giving my friends and family presents I know they will love. I like talking others out of their funks. Babies still creep me out, but I'll still smile at one and I might even speak to it. In other words, I am a consistently positive and chipper gal.

But seriously: fuck you, 2012.  And 2013: you're kind of being a shithead, too.

I won't list the many reasons why 2012 has sucked for me personally, but I will offer some perspective on said reasons. The first is that while I am still frustrated over things that happened, I am not dense enough to be unthankful for some of the good things. Publications, awards, praise, teaching work that I love, fun times with good friends. I saw TDKR and The Hobbit (twice). I was the TARDIS for Halloween. I discovered the benefits of avocado oil. We finally got a Lush store in town (OMGOMGOMG). For all the shitfights endured last year, I do know that the amazing things in my life far outweigh the bad times. Nevertheless, as my second perspective, I am shocked at the behavior of certain people in my life and just people in general. I guess this goes without saying, but people--even those closest to you--can be so callous and cruel. That makes me sad.  Sincerely. Maybe I'm a sentimentalist. Maybe I should watch less TV, or incorporate more fiber in my diet, or volunteer at shelter. Maybe I shouldn't rehash the painful situations over and over in my head. Maybe I should try to care less. Maybe that would lessen the shock over how badly people can treat others. I doubt it.

So yeah, the overall  disappointment quotient of 2012 is way too high, comparing to other years. And what makes 2012 stand out most of all is that I tried really hard to do good work. Hell, I'll say it: I busted my ass last year trying to do the best work possible, both personally and professionally. And still, the shit storm raged. Yes, this is horrid whining. I've had a couple beers and I'm in histrionic mode. I don't care. Not to mention the general state of malaise in our country with maniac gun-toting assholes killing innocent people, inept politicians driving our country into the dark ages,  women's rights nearly being obliterated, and an economy wheezing an ominous death rattle. It makes a girl want to curl up in bed and watch 7th Heaven episodes until the zombies hoard the streets, or plagues and famine decimate the population.  BAH.

So 2013 started off horribly, which I will (positively) attribute to a stubborn 2012 and its residual malady. There's still good left in you, 2013. There are some good things which will be as amazing as I anticipate. AWP Boston is coming up in March, some summer holiday plans are in the works, my 211 students are absolute darlings, and next September is the beginning of my final year in my MFA program. It's all happening! I think.

Carver, "Cathedral," Cake

POP QUIZ! Which sometimes-blogger celebrated her 6th birthday on the same day (August 2nd 1988) that Raymond Carver died? 

I think that year my mother made a Muppet Babies cake for me. Or maybe My Little Pony? Anyway, I just realized this fact after doing some research on Carver for a lit class I'm TA-ing for this summer. I thought I'd post up my notes meant for the ENG 336 students to engage in critical discourse of the text (read: mild scholarship, a little dry). JUST 'SCUZ.

Inciting Incident

“Cathedral” is an example of Carver’s ostensibly simple story featuring characters from Middle America who exhibit the anxieties with either their work, their love lives, or their identity. The unnamed narrator in “Cathedral” and his wife anticipate the arrival of the wife’s old friend with whom she has kept in contact. The narrator is upset about Robert’s visit, namely because he is blind and he is prejudiced against blind people, while the wife is excited to have him visit. In the first paragraph, we establish that the narrator’s distain for blind people indicates an awareness of how he lacks intimacy, while the wife’s anticipation for his visit indicates her yearning for intimacy. Right from the start, we learn that there is this tension between husband and wife, and Robert’s visit is somehow going to exacerbate  or alleviate this tension.

Rising Action: Flashbacks

As you read in this week’s reading in The Art of the Short Story, the plot only takes place in the span of four or five hours, from suppertime until late at night. However, Carver intersperses this action with background from what his wife has told him. Starting on the second paragraph, the narrator tells the history of his wife’s friendship with the Robert. It’s no secret the narrator harbors a blunt dislike of him and of blind people in general: “And it bothered me that he was blind.” Note how he reveals his obtuse prejudice and disregard for the whole situation. He drinks constantly and glazes over seemingly important details which are meaningful to his wife:

“But she was in love with [her first husband], and he was in love with her, etc.” “So okay. I’m saying that at the end of the summer she let the blind man run his hands all over her face, said goodbye to him, married her childhood etc., who was now a commissioned officer, and she moved away from Seattle.”

We know these details mean the world to his wife because she writes poems about them—her life with her first husband, their divorce, the incident with Robert touching her face—while her husband simply brushes them off with “etc.” Through the narrator’s telling of his wife’s backstory, we understand his unwillingness to acknowledge the emotional impact of these details, we see his present nature as someone who is incapable of intimacy and emotionally detached, which adds tension and advances the plot of the story.

Rising Action: Reversals of Preconceptions

When we resume the plot about four pages into the story (starting with “Now this time the blind man was coming to sleep in my house”), we know that the narrator’s negativity is going to be challenged—he is ripe for change. The moment Robert visits, all of the narrator’s prejudices about blind people are proven wrong. Robert doesn’t move slowly, he doesn’t use a cane, he doesn’t wear glasses, he is affable and speaks confidently, and he even sports a beard—which the narrator’s finds unbelievable, probably because he finds no use in having facial hair if you can’t see it. Note how Robert consistently strokes his beard, dispelling another stereotype for the narrator—he sees is as a pointless thing to have a beard, while Robert is satisfied by touching his beard and even sniffing it. The narrator sees tangibility as only what one can see, but the blind man uses his other senses to find tangible meaning.

When the narrator invites Robert to drink and smoke marijuana and when Robert accepts, more of the narrator’s stereotypes are broken. During the cathedral documentary on  the television, the narrator’s need to explain the physical details of the cathedrals to Robert indicates his growing need to communicate with him. He is unable to properly describe the cathedrals and admits his spiritual deprivation:

“You’ll have to forgive me…But I can’t tell you what a cathedral looks like. It just isn’t in me to do it. I can’t do it any more than I’ve done…The truth is, cathedrals don’t mean anything special to me. Nothing. Cathedrals. They’re something to look at on late-night TV. That’s all they are.”

At this point, the narrator lacks the vitality that Robert, despite his “handicap,” assumes completely. The narrator is nervous, drinks constantly, smokes marijuana to mask his insecurities while Robert, on the other hand, is comfortable, knowledgeable, worldly and, most importantly, he is kind. This leaves the narrator completely unmoored.

We see this plot reversal take place after his inability to describe the cathedral and admits to being devoid of any spiritual meaning. Once he realizes that Robert, a man he once considered revolting, is humanized and actually a decent person, the narrator is ready for his revelation moment. The cathedral is the subject of their conversation, but it becomes much more than that. It serves as a way to reach the narrator and show him to see things differently.

Crisis Action as Epiphany

Like the final reversal and recognition with Gabriel Conroy in “The Dead,” the narrator’s epiphany comes after all his barriers are broken. The tension between the two men and the narrator’s wife comes to a head when Robert suggests holding his hand as he draws a cathedral. When the blind man puts his hands on the narrator’s, he is showing him that even without sight, he is capable of finding meaning in his life. Even when Robert tells him to open his eyes, the narrator doesn’t want to, and his not opening his eyes works as the external action of his mostly epiphanal crisis action. He has realized that clear sight is more than a visual experience. There is irony in the blind man helping the non-blind man “see” for the first time.

Conclusion

While most of Carver’s writing focuses on depressed, morally or emotionally bankrupt people facing harsh truths and disappointments in their lives, “Cathedral” seems to exhibit a character that changes for the best and grows from his own prejudices after his revelation.  It is a story of optimism and hope—as the narrator himself expresses sentimentally, “It’s really something.”

the peafowl

lately i've been thinking a lot about ambiguity. its uses, its flaws, its various applications throughout literature and history. cleopatra, for one, was famous for her impetuous femininity and impervious pride; the strength that trait this allowed her both politically and socially. queen elizabeth was famous as the virgin queen, but her the variety in her iconography is really her lasting legacy. she was, as most know, NOT a virgin, only branded so to perpetuate her loyalty to the english empire. elizabeth was also praised for her pageantry and coquetry, for example the "faerie queen" by spenser, to lure suitors to take over the throne, an act that would satisfy the patriarchal paradigm touted by the house of commons. when she remained unmarried and considered too old to marry, she assumed the chastity of the moon goddess Diana or Cynthia as symbol of a perpetually virginal "bride" to her "husband" england. what i'm getting at is that, over the years, women in power have been necessitated, as politically and socially repressed subjects, to rely on their ambiguous nature to survive.




which brings me to peacocks.



the peacock's symbolism is varied: renewal, pride, beauty, resurrection, "all seeing." researching the bird led me to an interesting quote about flannery o'connor and her fascination with peacocks:



"Among the many fascinating tales and lore of the peacock which P. Thankappan Nair includes in his article “The Peacock Cult in Asia” is the following quotation:It is an unfortunate tendency of the English mind to seize what seems to it grotesque or ungainly in an unfamiliar object; thus the elephant and the peacock have become almost impossible in English poetry because the one is associated with lumbering heaviness and the other with absurd strutting. The tendency of the Hindu mind on the other hand is to seize on what is pleasing and beautiful in all things and turn to see charm where the English mind sees a deformity and to extract poetry and grace from the ugly."

of course, i'm a huge flannery o'connor fan and i've always been curious about her predilection with peacocks. my only encounter with a peacock was in australia on a cattle farm, where they were mean and obnoxious and woke me up with this insufferable screeching early in the morning. but over the years, i've become more interested in the creature. as i've researched the feminine quality of ambiguity, i was reminded of the peacock. the quote above in how people perceive the unfamiliar, as either grotesque or beautiful. this nebulous divide between the absurdity and gracefulness reminds me of the ambiguous nature of anomalies, such as women in power. how they must be everything and nothing, constantly changing, in order to survive. and how the western patriarchal constructs have repeatedly misunderstood these multitude of meanings. kind of a "how do you solve a problem like maria" sentiment. well, i dig it. what was once an annoying creature has now become an object of fascination. while i'm not a bird person in the sense that i could walk among them and feel completely comfortable (at a young age, i was attacked by a goose that bit my ankles while at an amusement park--a harrowing ordeal), i love the symbolism attached to them. and i appreciate (from afar) their beauty and complexity.




so here's some cool-looking peacock tattoos. i've been thinking about adding some onto my arm with one of my favorite quotes by miss flannery, an homage to one of my favorite writers. and also something to commemorate a kind of big birthday coming up in august. or, it's supposed to be a big birthday or whatever. i don't care. i just want to dance, read books, and get peacock tattoos.

several arrows later

i loved it when i had time to do silly things.

three things in contemplation for the upcoming all hallows eve

1. Percy Bysshe Shelley knew what's up:

‘Thou taintest all thou lookest upon! -the stars,
Which on thy cradle beamed so brightly sweet,
Were gods to the distempered playfulness
Of thy untutored infancy; the trees,
The grass, the clouds, the mountains and the sea,
All living things that walk, swim, creep or fly,
Were gods...

Awhile thou stood’st
Baffled and gloomy; then thou didst sum up
The elements of all that thou didst know;
The changing seasons, winter’s leafless reign,
The budding of the heaven-breathing trees,
The eternal orbs that beautify the night,
The sunrise, and the setting of the moon,
Earthquakes and wars, and poisons and disease,
And all their causes, to an abstract point
Converging thou didst bend, and called it God!

-Shelley, Queen Mab


the language is sublime and i love how it exalts the mystery and beauty of nature, but also it is such an affront to monotheism. kind of badass for a 21-year-old kid in 1813.

2. luna lovegood, my unlikely literary crush.

my brother and his wife are throwing a harry potter halloween bash this year. it had been a while since i read the novels and i was a little hesitant but willing to participate because my brother and his wife are pretty rad people and boston is awesome this time of the year. i received a text from my brother that stated simply "we've decided you are luna lovegood." at first, i was anxious to research other HP characters to be for the party, but the more i researched luna and revisited her part in the novels, the more i became entranced. i've discovered how likely a candidate i am to portray her, and how much i like the character. when i tell people that's who i am for halloween, i've noticed people squint their eyes and smile and say, "yeah, you'd be a good luna." luna is quirky and dreamy and a little spacey, but always observant and intelligent.

"Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. "Good thinking," said Luna seriously. "It's often infested with nargles."

3. all the amazing things coming up in november and december. i'm so excited to enjoy one of my favorite holidays with my awesome family (brother: remus lupin, sister-in-law: professor minerva mcgonagall, sister: pansy parkinson) and then get back to work. publications, finals, readings, interviews with famous people, and the holiday season. happy halloween everybody!

oh, and...

HAPPY SEPTEMBER! autumn, my favorite season, is nigh. and virginia about to become gorgeous.

for those who don't know: virginia is magical.

also, september is notorious for being the month that my brother and boyfriend celebrate their birthdays.  (coincidence that they are both virgos?) random fact for septemberists out there: september's birthstone is the sapphire, not only the moniker for author, but it also represents clear thinking. most excellent.

so for now, i will listen to matt pond pa (personal choice for back-to-school autumn music) and read my books because:

currently reading...

since there are several books on rotation, i'll make a list. 

1. The Italian, Anne Radcliffe. lots of unrequited love and phantasmal hooded monks. 

2. Romanticism, Sharon Ruston. lots of european post-enlightenment drama. 

pink highlighting=learning.

3. The Octopus, Frank Norris. for reasons beyond my control (hurricanes and shitty amazon shipping), i was unable to even procure this book and start reading this until today, even though i should have been reading it for a while now. so far, all i can say is it not about cephalopods (even though they are fascinating and i'd LOVE to read a book about them). but there are lots of upset farmers and greedy railroad owners.