The Road: A Love Story
What makes a love story? Is it the tension between lovers in a budding romance? The slow build of a relationship over time? Passion? Something ineffable and divine? Though a love story may often be these things, it’s more than just romance; stories of love don’t have to be of romantic love. There are stories of platonic love, familial love, and religious love, to name a few broad categories. But when we think of love stories, we think of The Notebook, not Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic vision gut-wrenchingly laid out in The Road.
Don’t we all love to eat?
I’ve often been teased for my eating habits, and by “habits” I mean the quantity of food that I eat and the quirks with which I eat it. Sometimes I eat a sandwich self-consciously with a napkin squashed in my palm, fingers clutching bread. Sometimes I hold my water glass with two hands and don’t think that’s weird. The width of my shoulders and circumference of my thighs doesn’t necessarily reflect my appetite, and there are many people in this world who love the opportunity to call someone fat without having to feel guilty about the potential insult. But I have to wonder, don’t we all love to eat? Don’t we all overeat with relish and abandon? I’m not the odd (wo)man out here, am I?
An American Childhood
The first time I encountered Annie Dillard was the summer between those middling high school years. My English teacher assigned An American Childhood and I dutifully purchased a copy that I don’t think I ever finished. Today my copy of the book looks brand new. There are some dents at the corners of the spine, but my history professor’s “spine test” would prove that I didn’t get far beyond the front cover. Everything is still in tact, waiting.
Packing.
Although July still has some time to make itself known before we creep into August, the summer is fast escaping. Next week I leave for vacation on Cape Cod, a regular summer trip that went on hiatus for a few years but has happily returned, and on August 1st, I can start moving into my new apartment in Boston. That project will probably be delayed, though, if I get some hours at work before leaving for my trip. Even if I don’t, a friend’s engagement party will call me back to New York in the meantime, because that’s something not to be missed.
All of these things– packing bags for two different vacations and to move everything from New York to Boston– has me thinking about just how much stuff (mainly clothing) I have. I spent some time packing boxes yesterday and then came across this article in the NYTimes.
Graduated.
Home again, whatever that means.
College is over, summer is underway, and a lot of people are taking stock of a lot of things in their young lives. School. Maybe finding a new one. Finishing up that final year. Work and avoiding it as best we can. Hoping that paychecks will be bigger than they are. Friends. Those now distant professors. Vacations. Finding our favorite air-conditioned room. Living with our parents. How to move out as soon as possible, even in spite of what our bank accounts might say.
Redwoods
The trees are an optical illusion. Reason dictates the impossibility of my perception. From a distance the trunks meld to form a vision of soft and twisted red bark, six or eight times wider than a clear vision proves they are. I put on my glasses, but the illusion remains unchanged. The trees escape doughy earth and disappear in a confusion of tapering branches above me. Jagged green shapes, only seen with a tilted head, squinting eyes, and a lip curled with curious effort, double up on top of each other and create the shade that cools the dirt. It’s impossible to see where the trees emerge with pointed tips jutting into open sky, but everyone who visits Muir Woods seems intent on finding that place.
Competing for space, some redwoods yield to give others the privilege of eastern branches. Some trees would be bare on one side if not for the spindly caress of its neighbor who, whether out of negligence, for beauty, or in haste, chose to push westward and deny growing room to its brethren. There’s nothing selfish about their encroachments; nothing can be called selfish at that momentum. If they paid enough attention to see those fiercely pointed branches approaching, they probably could have avoided being made to sacrifice. With so much ground in the forest, you wouldn’t think it would be so hard to find the middle of it—that place where everyone is at least satisfied with the knowledge that no one got their way. But this is a forest of extremes, and I don’t think there is a middle-ground here.
Swedish Novelty, Part II
Never thought you’d get a Part II, did you?
Maybe not a novelty, but still enjoyable.
Also see: http://www.vimeo.com/1857259, if you’re interested in hats.
2009.
I am developing a list of New Year’s Resolutions. Ahem.
- No plastic bags. Sure to be more annoying than anticipated.
- Straight As. Ballet included.
- Get back my edge. Suggestion taken.
- Read books. Parameters yet to be defined.
- Get a real job. This isn’t a resolution so much as a necessity. It makes the cut nonetheless.
All right, this is a lame start, but I’m keeping them in mind. 2008 ended on an undeniably unproductive note. And when I say note, I mean the John Cage “As Slow As Possible”639-year long song kind of note. No more of that.
See you out there.
Fin-de-semester.
Get it?
Tomorrow is my last full day in Copenhagen. I need to eat one last pita kebab before shipping out. I also need to return a library book so that DIS does not withhold my grades.
For those of you who were wondering, I did not in fact win the round trip ticket to Copenhagen this afternoon. Sometimes life is full of disappointments. Shucks.
Hardly 36 hours til takeoff. Weird.
Shame
Do you know these words?
- peroration [concluding part of a discourse]
- immured [imprisoned]
- maidan [any open plain, park, or square near a town]
- cuspidors [spittoon]
- deleterious [pernicious]
- zenana [in Asian countries, part of the house reserved for women]
- triune [trinity]
- Hegiran calendar [lunar calendar used by Muslims, reckoned from the year of the Hegira in 622 AD]
- dumbir [three stringed instrument]
- sarandas [seven stringed instrument]
- solecism [an ungrammatical combination of words in a sentence; minor blunder in speech]
- begums [a Muslim woman of high rank]
- crores [an Indian unit of measure equal to 100 lakh or 10 million]
- cavorting [leap or dance about; engage in extravagant activity]
- antediluvian [of or before the flood described in the bible]
- peritonitis [inflammation of the peritoneum]
- unguents [healing or soothing salve]
- plenipotentiary [invested with full power]
- soigneé [well-groomed, sleek]
- rubaiyat [a collection of ruba'i, a Persian quatrain]
- almirah [a cabinet]
- Katdiji style [ ???? ]
- rapacious [taking by force, pludering]
- patangs [ ???? ]
