Love and stuff...

So, I've been thinking about this for weeks and weeks... love... how does that work... I get that it's a chemical reaction in our brains... but if that's all it is, it seems like it should make more sense than it does...

Flowers and Concrete I

... in that serendipitous, things-come-together sort of way, I started thinking about it a few days before I read this blog post (go read it - it's short, beautiful, and to my eventual point)... it was linked off another blog, one that I don't always read, and rarely follow links off of, even when I do read it... I felt like it was one of those universe-conspiring-to-hit-me-over-the-head moments, but one that I didn't know what to do with once I was hit... and yet I've returned to it again... and again...

It had come on the heels of several deep conversations with good friends about my relationship status (in general, not with them)... I know and appreciate that I have these amazing relationships where I can talk about the crazy and the serious, the world-changing and the fluffy marshmallow filling, too...

And I know that I do love... I love my friends, my sisters, the family I've made out of mismatched, crazy, never-should-have-worked friendships... it may not be "traditional" love, and certainly, it's not always expressed in traditional ways - I just can't seem to do that, the traditional love. The normal love. The expected love... but it's real... and big... and deep... and sometimes so incredibly painful... and just love... but different...

So that makes me wonder is there is something missing in me, something that makes love work like it's supposed to... maybe my chemicals are messed up, or combine differently... so the random blog post by a random stranger - one I've never encountered before, and might not again, even on the internet because I don't follow her blog - speaks so exactly to how I've been thinking about love...

Flowers and Concrete II

I still don't know what to do with it...

A return to blogging...

I have been feeling an itch lately - undefined, back-of-my-brain, peripheral dissatisfaction with the way things are. It has been hard to pin down, and not just because its appearance like ghostly images in the corner of my eye... but also because there are so many things in my life that are going well - my friends, my job, my hobbies... though I definitely could be practicing my new mandolin more, I'm pretty sure that is not what is causing this nebulous worry. I'd let my online reading languish, my To Be Read pile has grown, while I've buried myself in comfort reads, revisiting old favorites; and indulging in new brain candy in the form of "The Big Bang Theory" - an all-six-seasons binge. And while these pass-times are enjoyable - who doesn't love a good "bazinga", they have, ultimately, not been satisfying.

So today I did the dishes I'd been ignoring in the sink, cleaned out my reader, and caught up on blogs - the physical housecleaning morphing into a mental one. And I was led to this quote:

“I am one of the searchers. There are, I believe, millions of us. We are not unhappy, but neither are we really content. We continue to explore life, hoping to uncover its ultimate secret. We continue to explore ourselves, hoping to understand. We like to walk along the beach, we are drawn by the ocean, taken by its power, its unceasing motion, its mystery and unspeakable beauty. We like forests and mountains, deserts and hidden rivers, and the lonely cities as well. Our sadness is as much a part of our lives as is our laughter. To share our sadness with one we love is perhaps as great a joy as we can know - unless it be to share our laughter. 

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. Most of all we love and want to be loved. We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love.  

For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.”  

~James Kavanaugh- "There Are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves"

It so neatly sums up my own discontent, not new to me, but recently quite strongly felt... I have been ignoring my inner searcher, burying it under the minutiae of daily life. And this is not an acceptable state of being. Not for me.

And this lead to the further realization that I missed writing. Not the writing I've been playing at with a novel idea, nor the more serious writing of a kitchen memoir, but this kind of writing - brief, topical, get-it-out-of-my-head-and-into-the-world kind of writing. And while I've never been the most loyal of bloggers, I do think I'm happier for the effort. So, we'll see how a return to blogging goes...

Brain = Broken (in a good way) Completely

Completely unrelated photo I love from my recent trip to Gunsan

Just had a mind-breaking moment while visiting an acquaintance's blog...

Like many bloggers, she has a quote at the top of her page- though, perhaps somewhat uncommonly, her's is by Michel Foucault:

"IF I HAD TO WRITE A BOOK TO COMMUNICATE WHAT I WAS ALREADY THINKING, I WOULD NEVER HAVE THE COURAGE TO BEGIN. I ONLY WRITE A BOOK BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO THINK ABOUT THIS THING THAT I SO MUCH WANT TO THINK ABOUT, SO THAT THE BOOK TRANSFORMS ME AND TRANSFORMS WHAT I THINK."

This blew my brain right open. Perhaps I'd read it before - I've read quite a bit of Foucault - perhaps less than some of my past Theory teachers were under the impression I'd read, but a lot none the less - but if so, the surrounding text swallowed my reaction to this little bit of brain-breakage.

"IF I HAD TO WRITE A BOOK TO COMMUNICATE WHAT I WAS ALREADY THINKING, I WOULD NEVER HAVE THE COURAGE TO BEGIN. I ONLY WRITE A BOOK BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO THINK ABOUT THIS THING THAT I SO MUCH WANT TO THINK ABOUT, SO THAT THE BOOK TRANSFORMS ME AND TRANSFORMS WHAT I THINK."

This is why I've never written a book. This is why I struggle so much just to write a blog post. This is why the best writing I've done has always been the hardest, the writing where I really don't know even know what I want to try and find, just that there are all these interesting or hard things that I've noticed in the text, or in my life. And this is why, as I write - usually slowly and painfully - I come to know what I think, or at least get to what questions I want to think about...

Perhaps this is also why I've frequently felt my best writing was academic rather than creative (though I am not convinced that is a fair distinction, because I think that you need a fair to huge amount of creativity to write well academically). Academic writing, while frequently arguing for something, always seemed to me more about the exploration of these arguments - the figuring out of why they are, how they work, what the intersections and connections are - than a presentation of what the author knows... good academic writing anyway... though I am not saying that I think deliberate obsfucation is good here (or anywhere other than vampire role-playing games)... that is rather the opposite of what good writing does - so-called creative or academic writing...

And it also may be why I've always had such a hard time with the advice to "write what you know" ... I often wonder why this is interesting to anyone, and now realize that question arises because it is not what is interesting to me... I am interested in what I don't know, not what I do... because there is so much out there that I still need to figure out. Learning has always been the point of school for me, not grades or degrees (as my rather checkered and extended academic career might indicate)... so I don't really know what this means for me now, but perhaps I will just let it sit for a while with my broken brain... and then perhaps I will write to figure it out...

"IF I HAD TO WRITE A BOOK TO COMMUNICATE WHAT I WAS ALREADY THINKING, I WOULD NEVER HAVE THE COURAGE TO BEGIN. I ONLY WRITE A BOOK BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO THINK ABOUT THIS THING THAT I SO MUCH WANT TO THINK ABOUT, SO THAT THE BOOK TRANSFORMS ME AND TRANSFORMS WHAT I THINK."

Occupy Our Food Supply!

Our food supply, especially in America is so broken... I have not been involved in many of the other Occupy movements, partially because I am so far away from where many of them are happening, but food is perhaps the thing I am most passionate about, so I could not let this day pass completely without mentioning this Occupy movement here. Agribusinesses and industrial complexes (Monsanto, Cargill, Tyson, Dupont, ADM, et al.) have hijacked our food system and shifted the focus from nutritious, safe, tasty food for eaters, to how they can make the most money - It is, simply put, evil.

As always, I would encourage you to think about where you get your food - who made it, where it came from, what chemicals where used to make it and grow it (this includes your meat, not just veggies!) And most importantly, to vote with your wallet. Buy local, sustainable food whenever possible.

Here is a link to the letter of support for the Occupy Our Food Supply. Many of the signers and organizations supporting this movement have links to their own sites, where you can get more information about the movement, and about actions you can take to make a difference in support of good food - 'cause really, that is one of the most important things in your world!

This is so important - whether you eat to live, or live to eat, the current system is diminishing your food!

A life of the mind...

So, as you may or may not know, February, at least for me, is something of a mortal enemy... For years, it has constantly and consistently sucked the joy from my outlook, stamped down my energy, and in various ways preyed upon my mind... It's cold grayness goes far beyond any sort of SAD sort of disarrangement (or perhaps, derangement)... February has been soul crushing in a way that makes other things I've been through - death of loved ones, divorce, distance from dear friends, postponement of dreams - pale by comparison... And perhaps the most baffling aspect of this soul-crushing is that I don't even know why; why I feel as though February is a living, devious, being, one that hates me... And this year was no different, February came and I wanted to curl up and hide until it had passed...


I give this explanation, so that it might be understood just how crucial the timing of this post and the events (some, largely mental) that led up to it are.


Leading up... In November, I had settled into Korea well enough to turn my mind to writing - thinking about projects I wanted to start, work on, or possibly complete. Then my computer died, necessitating a great reduction in the time spent on my computer, as I was running from my backup drive until I could comfortably afford the purchase of a new one... and as a devotee of Apple, that took a few months... This break threw me off track of any sort of creative process - my computer is largely the way I communicate with my family and friends, the scholarly and literary communities I follow - the connections that sustain me in a very real way, despite their virtual nature... Towards the end of January, I knew I would be getting a new computer soon, and those thoughts of writing began to return...


But then February happened... cold, gray, soul-crunching February... it made me want to sleep constantly, while preventing me from sleeping most nights... that is the daemon that is February...


So, Friday night I was up anyway, unable to keep my attention on my novel, having blown through my rss reader, and too enmeshed in the blahs to find other distraction on the internet, when my calendar reminded me that it was time for the live stream of the Exemplaria Symposium of Surface, Symptom, and the State of Critique... Not something I had read or prepared for in anyway other than reading Jeffrey Cohen's handout on In The Middle... In fact, until that late moment, I hadn't even looked at the schedule beyond glancing and noting it on my calendar. After all, Korea is a long way from Texas, and distance and time meant I would probably not see it anyway. So thanks, February... this is all your fault...


On opening the live stream, I was immediately swept under (pardon the pun). I had little context, beyond foundational literary theories, for the thoughts the presenters were raising and responding to, yet I was immediately fascinated - so much so that I, couldn't sleep through the next panel, or the next - when I tried to sleep between them my brain kept waking me up, wondering what I was missing. The symposium brought my brain to life - in a somewhat uncomfortable fashion, even. So, now I have pages of notes, and an extended reading list on a topic I had not really considered at all - at least not in a conscious matter (though anyone associated with the Popular Romance Studies field will confirm that how and why we read is never far beneath the scholarship, due to a frequent necessity to defend what we read and study).


Now my brain is so filled with new (to me) thinking about reading, scholarship, and creative generalization that it has pushed out of February's hold... The symposium has cost me quite a bit of sleep, but has re-affirmed my deep, integral need for a life of the mind... 


Now, I only hope that this thinking will lead to writing, and maintain the pressure keeping February at bay...

Simple abundance...

My recent move has inspired much introspection, contemplation, and perhaps even angst...

Among the topics, foremost after only the perennial what-am-I-doing-with-my-life, was, and is I suppose, the idea of simplification. This is a subject that always accompanies the hated moving process - where did I get all this stuff? Why do I have so much of it? Do I really need it all? The questioning accompanying this particular move was compounded by others in my world tackling simplification for various reasons - dear friends moving to Korea to teach, another friend's blog posts focusing on the simplification process, my sister cleaning out her clutter, books where the heroines end up traveling with no luggage and are fine... there were other less easily referenced moments, as well. All of these make me want to pare down the things that I own, reduce the volume of possessions cluttering up my life (or stored in my sister's apartment).

Questions of simplification are difficult for me - I have a nester personality. I miss my pretty nick-nacks. Objects are comforting to me. Clutter is cosy. I am predisposed to collect - books, art, cooking supplies. Having to move, and leave so much of my stuff - those books, dust-catchers, kitchen equipment - in storage for now, has created a cognitive dissonance between my desire for my missing objects, my attachment to the objects that surround me, and the appeal of a simplified life.

So, how do I find that balance point?

Another complicating factor is that move coincided with my purchase (finally) of an eReader, and my subsequent discovery that I love it - I love the experience of reading on it, I love the fact that I can have literally hundreds of books with me at any given time, I love the space it saves. And yet... I also love my paper books. How do I pick and choose in which format I want to keep a given title? Cookbooks are easy - they are still better in paper, though if I do get an iPad, who knows if that will change - but for now, I'm keeping the paper. Poetry I am also keeping the paper - the form matters in poetry, and the formatting of ebooks is not yet at a place where the form is well and consistently preserved, so they stay, too. But I have hundreds and hundreds of novels, mostly genre fiction, well-loved and well-read, many of which I now also have in ebook form. And I enjoy reading them that way. How do I choose which to keep, which to pare away? I feel almost as if I have to choose which friends I get to keep and which ones I have to say goodbye to. Due to the issue of storage distance, it is a decision that I don't yet have to make, but it is looming, and occupying my thoughts to the point of minor obsession.

Why can't simple also be easy?

Fractured and out of focus...

So, this is how I have been feeling often of late - fractured and out of focus... Unsurprisingly, I have turned to a list to try and bring myself back together...

Things occupying my mind, in no particular order, frequently simultaneously...

• Food - how to write about it, what to read next, a cogent theory of food (I can't settle on just one), what is the most healthy, the most affordable, why can't those be the same thing, and, of course, what will I be eating next.
• Teaching - I am always surprised, even having done it before and knowing what I need to do, how much time is spent thinking about the class I am teaching.
• Publishing - In following the online popular romance community, I've spent a lot more time thinking about publishing. Now that I work at an independent bookstore, I am thinking about it even more - and it is creating a bit of cognitive dissonance, because the bookseller and the reader are having to coexist inside my head.
• Writing - I am not doing enough - academic, personal, or food. I am just not. And I want to.
• Romance - the PCA Romance Area CFP went out and I am torn - I want to do something with food (maybe w/ the Louisa Edwards chef books), but I don't want to move away from Nora Roberts - there is still so much to be explored in her work.
• Reading - working in a bookstore has not helped to diminish my TBR list. My theory habit also frequently leads to new texts. And then there's food writing, and cookbooks. There are simply not enough hours in the day. And that doesn't even touch on all the active communities online that I (want to) follow.
• Employment - really more accurately my tenuous state of employment, and the high potential for future unemployment. A worry that I know is shared by many.
• Family - how much I rely on certain members of my family, and how distant I feel from others.
  
• Organization - how to keep all these pockets of my life together, and to keep me sane while I am tugged in so many different directions...
  

I think I'll go have a cuppa tea, and not think about anything for a while.

Writing today ...

The view from my seat...

Reading notes...

Some things I've discovered from my reading thus far...

• Marie de France's Lais are all about failing
• Chretien de Troyes didn't have a high opinion of women
• I feel sorry for Grendel, but not his mother
  
• I (still) think Gawain was an idiot
• Medieval drama is fascinating and bizarre
• Piers Plowman is no more comprehensible the second time through
• I need to be quicker with my theory reading, but I don't want to miss anything important
• I can't always tell what theory is important
  

I keep returning to this Einstein quote, "The supreme goal of all theory is to make the irreducible basic elements as simple and as few as possible without having to surrender the adequate representation of a single datum of experience." This is the balance of experience and theory I am looking for... and the balance that I am not sure how to find...

The majority of questions I have so far are not about what I've been reading, but about myself and my own life... Perhaps that is the point of great literature, but it is very disquieting...

Summer fitness update...

I have been exercising more, and it feels great. My sister and I are getting up at 5 every morning and doing the Couch to 5K running program (I don't hate running as much as I thought I would, though it is still early in the program), alternated with kettlebells and hula-hooping. I am buying (actually, waiting for it to be delivered) an interval timer, so I can expand my kettlebell workouts to make them, hopefully, even more effective. I really need to build my strength back up though, as I still can't do some of the exercises I was doing in Laramie.

(these are way heavier than the kettlebells I use - I'm a bit of a wimp still)

I've also started to pay more attention to what I eat. Actually, that is not entirely true. As a devotee to the church of the kitchen I have always payed fairly close attention to what I ate - how it tasted, how I could improve that taste, more recently where it came from, what is in it, how humane it is, how safe it is - all important thoughts in my mind when it comes to food. But now I have started paying attention to how many calories are in the food that I eat; and I have to say I am shocked! I had no idea how much adding a spoonful of sugar to my morning tea added to my daily calorie intake. I've found that I eat a lot of calories... and some times they are the calories that make things taste good- my primary food concern before this summer. So now I am struggling to balance an acceptable calorie intake, with an acceptable flavor quotient, and all this is complicated by the exercise... I am hungry all the time! I was warned this would happen, I knew in my head this would happen, but actually experiencing it is a little bit crazy. I really don't like it. At all.

Still, I am glad I am paying attention to another aspect of what I eat - awareness is never wasted. Perhaps I can turn this hunger into a meditation on lack, on loss, and on what it really means to be fulfilled.

Cooking our way through...

My sisters and I were talking and we think that we have way too many cookbooks - good, interesting cookbooks - that we hardly ever use. So we have decided that we will cook our way through one this winter. We are not going the Julie & Julia route, with a time limit and every recipe in the book - we (ok, I) don't ascribe to a need for that much structure. We were somewhat limited in our selection as well, because G. is a vegetarian, so we had to pick one of our vegetarian or vegan cookbooks - this limited us to about twelve out of over a hundred.


We decided on this one. We liked the layout, the ingredients weren't over-the-top expensive or hard to find, and we wanted to go with one that we didn't already use a lot, so no Moosewood or Vegan With A Vengeance. The whole point - or at least one of the points - of this project is that we need to make better use of what we have. So starting tomorrow we are going to pick at least one recipe from the book for every supper during the week and for brunch on Saturdays and Sundays. This means more planning of meals, which is something that we have been trying to do more of anyway - and I am a particular fan of, as there is nothing I hate more than "I don't know," when I ask what to make for dinner. We will not be super religious about following the recipes - M. is allergic to anything remotely resembling a nut and G. maintains her title of Little Miss Picky-pants with fervor - but the effort here is to appreciate and make use of what we have, so this is a start anyway.

Veggie thoughts...

So, as I was cooking dinner tonight - no, I didn't write down the recipe - I pondered how glad I am that my sister decided to become a vegetarian. While I still eat meat, this decision (made several years ago now) has completely changed the way I think about food. It has caused me to think about what I cook in new ways. I think about where my food comes from - what died so I could eat this meal? Was it part of a natural cycle? When I eat meat, I think about things like how the animals lived? How were they killed?

But beyond these rather philosophical and difficult questions I have also changed the way I think about putting a meal together. Vegetarians, like all of us, want a meal, not a collection of side dishes. I think about what goes into satisfying the people I feed, and how I can do that without basing it on meat. This means I have so many options that I never considered before, and may have never considered if I wasn't cooking for a vegetarian. This thought process was compounded by living with a vegan two years. It has fundamentally changed how I compose with food. There are moments when it strikes me, and I feel like a painter who was only painting with half the colours and now I have a full palette - and yes, the pun was intended and I am not sorry.

So for dinner we had a tikka curry with potatoes, veggies, and paneer. With saffron rice. And it was lovely. Six years ago I never would have thought to put this meal together.

The use of animal byproducts

Warning: This post is heavy on the philosophizing and includes hot button topics of death, Christianity and veganism. If this is not your thing you may want to steer clear. Also, it is long.

This is a topic that has been much debated amongst various members of the flock - with strong proponents on both sides of the issue. The arguments range from corporate greed to health to evolution to personal pleasure. That is not what I want to talk about today. Today I want to talk about death.


Vegans are, with the possible exception of Christians, people who are more afraid of death than any other group I have encountered. This maybe because many of then were raised in a culture where the shadow of Christianity's fear of death has created a culture of youth that is unable to even talk about death. I don't know why it is, but most of the vegans I know, and know of, equate all death with cruelty and label all death as bad. There is a definite value judgement being placed on the ending of a life. In my experience value judgements are made out of two places - sometimes, they come from great joy; but, much more frequently, they arise out of fear. Now if you do not subscribe to a world-view where there is something after this life - be it heaven, reincarnation, or whatever - this fear makes sense. However, these same people are also frequently deeply spiritual people. I have to admit, this baffles me.

I understand, and even agree with, many of the arguments made about quality of life, health benefits, awareness and all of that, right up until they get to the point where death equals cruelty. That is where they loose me. None of the world-views that the vegans I know support this conclusion. Christians are only concerned with the life-after-death of humans, and it is supposed to be better than here. Buddhists believe in a cycle of reincarnation to end suffering - this one comes the closest to making sense to me, as your choices in this life effect your next incarnation, but death is a release into either the next incarnation or to enlightenment; it is the end of suffering. The Neo-Pagans I know come down on varying degrees between a summerlands-type heaven and a cycle of reincarnation, and the same issue that what comes next is something to look forward to applies to them.

So, if all these world-views see death as a good (or at least not bad) thing, why are vegans so opposed to it? Here we get to the value of life, which ones are more important and deserved to be preserved and which ones don't matter. It is argued by ethicists that the line sentience.The sentience line is usually drawn at the vertebrate/invertebrate line by science. But that is not the line that vegans take - otherwise lobster would be fine. And so would honey. So what is the line that makes some life ok to consume for sustenance and pleasure and other life, cruel. And who gets to decide where to step outside the cycle of life and death. Nothing lives except by the death of something else.

Now would probably be a good time to state that there are several points which vegans make that I completely agree with. That the quality of life of the animals we (omnivores) eat should be improved. And the giant corporate factory farms and animal testing do nothing to contribute to an improvement - or the ienvironment, or the health of developed nations. And that by making uninformed food choices which support these businesses, you perpetuate animal cruelty. I also think that it is important to consider all the consequences of your choices - especially food choices.

But by focusing on the death, I think that much is missed in the beautiful, natural cycles of the present.