I am saying goodbye to blogger today...and moving my site.
Visit me at:
http://charissahollandmotley.wordpress.com
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
goodwill to men
The accordion man is standing outside Dominick's again, scraggly and weathered, shabby and worn. He has a menagerie of broken-down items surrounding him--a Casio keyboard, a couple of coffee cans, a bag filled with who knows what. He is wearing a tan trenchcoat and black shoes, a stocking hat and sometimes fingerless gloves. He appears to mumble to himself as he plays, his fingers moving across the keys and buttons of the accordion without his recognition of where they are or what they're doing. When he opens his mouth it looks like he may talk to one of the passersby, but he only continues talking to himself, and through the space between his lips you can see the teeth poking through, sparse and yellowed.
It appears he has become a fixture in front of the grocery store, and I pass him every time I walk that particular corner. He has a container sitting out for money, but on the corner of Fullerton and Belden the greater population is made of college students, most of whom are probably not carrying cash, the rest of whom don't even see the accordion man, so consumed are they with their own lives and the daily grind of their college existences.
I see him. Every time, I see him. And I walk past, afraid to catch his eye even though he never seems to see anything around him. I think I have mastered the art of examining the people around me without them catching me at it, and for the most part this is true. Especially when the subject of examination shows distinct signs of crazy. But every time I pass by, I wonder what happened to the goodwill of humanity. This time of year everyone is being tapped for cash--the Salvation Army buckets are out, church gift programs are in full swing, and holiday parties require food and gifts. But it is also the time of year when we come together, and we sing "peace on earth, goodwill to men."
But I don't want to be one of those people who throws money around just because of the season. Jesus told us that the poor would always be among us, and so they are, begging for change with their outstretched plastic cups, holding their signs that illuminate their plight, and the sight of the poor moves our pity. But it rarely goes farther than that. Cynicism has set in, and has taken a deep hold on our society. We don't trust the poor, we believe they should be able to help themselves, we yell "get a job" and tell ourselves their laziness is to blame.
And sometimes this may be true. But I wonder if we are being called to rise above the cynicism and offer goodwill for the sake of goodwill. If humanity as a whole would rise up and reach out to the downtrodden, perhaps they would be taken care of. Perhaps we could effectually achieve a glimpse of social justice.
But instead I keep walking past the accordion man. And the guilt builds up like plaque inside an artery, and I wonder if my conscience will come under attack the way my heart would when that artery burst. Until that day, I live with the guilt for the few seconds in which I find it affecting me.
And then I keep walking.
It appears he has become a fixture in front of the grocery store, and I pass him every time I walk that particular corner. He has a container sitting out for money, but on the corner of Fullerton and Belden the greater population is made of college students, most of whom are probably not carrying cash, the rest of whom don't even see the accordion man, so consumed are they with their own lives and the daily grind of their college existences.
I see him. Every time, I see him. And I walk past, afraid to catch his eye even though he never seems to see anything around him. I think I have mastered the art of examining the people around me without them catching me at it, and for the most part this is true. Especially when the subject of examination shows distinct signs of crazy. But every time I pass by, I wonder what happened to the goodwill of humanity. This time of year everyone is being tapped for cash--the Salvation Army buckets are out, church gift programs are in full swing, and holiday parties require food and gifts. But it is also the time of year when we come together, and we sing "peace on earth, goodwill to men."
But I don't want to be one of those people who throws money around just because of the season. Jesus told us that the poor would always be among us, and so they are, begging for change with their outstretched plastic cups, holding their signs that illuminate their plight, and the sight of the poor moves our pity. But it rarely goes farther than that. Cynicism has set in, and has taken a deep hold on our society. We don't trust the poor, we believe they should be able to help themselves, we yell "get a job" and tell ourselves their laziness is to blame.
And sometimes this may be true. But I wonder if we are being called to rise above the cynicism and offer goodwill for the sake of goodwill. If humanity as a whole would rise up and reach out to the downtrodden, perhaps they would be taken care of. Perhaps we could effectually achieve a glimpse of social justice.
But instead I keep walking past the accordion man. And the guilt builds up like plaque inside an artery, and I wonder if my conscience will come under attack the way my heart would when that artery burst. Until that day, I live with the guilt for the few seconds in which I find it affecting me.
And then I keep walking.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
call me conservative
I currently drive into Chicago three days a week for classes, and I pass the same exits, traffic, and billboards every time--so when a billboard changes I usually notice. Especially if it happens to be a billboard that informs you that should you have questions about your baby daddy, paternity tests are now available over the counter.
Let's pause for a moment. You might wonder why this has upset me...as it seems that I primarily blog about things that upset me.
What this means to me is that we are living in a society in which a woman may sleep with so many different men that she would not know whose child she gave birth to.
Call me conservative. I have a problem with this.
I firmly believe that there are reasons why sex outside the confines of marriage is a bad idea--STDs, unwanted pregnancies/abortions, emotional trauma, etc. Here is yet another factor. Clearly, in today's culture, it is so common for women to have doubts about their child's paternity, that these tests are now available OTC. There goes all of the appeal of Maury Pauvich. Just hop on into your local Walgreens and pick up a test--no need for national televisation any more!
And yet--and yet--this is a trend that is only perpetuating itself. I subbed for a middle school teacher on Monday, and the cheerleaders were all in uniform, begging the question: Why are mini-skirt against the dress code and not cheerleading uniforms? The obvious answer may be that the girls wear something under their cheerleading skirts. Well, good grief, I hope that the girls wear something under their mini-skirts too. The issue is that although it's not quite such a big deal in middle school, by the time these girls are in high school, it's a perfect opportunity to flaunt their youthful legs, and I do not doubt for one second that horny teenage boys are taking every opportunity to try to see what really is under that cheerleading skirt.
And if the girls let them, well, that is how we come full circle to the paternity test dilemma.
This is what terrifies me about being a parent--not how to keep my child from making bad decisions, but how to instill them with a value system that will not allow bad decisions to even enter their minds.
And then I pray to God that no child of mine will ever need to buy an OTC paternity test.
Let's pause for a moment. You might wonder why this has upset me...as it seems that I primarily blog about things that upset me.
What this means to me is that we are living in a society in which a woman may sleep with so many different men that she would not know whose child she gave birth to.
Call me conservative. I have a problem with this.
I firmly believe that there are reasons why sex outside the confines of marriage is a bad idea--STDs, unwanted pregnancies/abortions, emotional trauma, etc. Here is yet another factor. Clearly, in today's culture, it is so common for women to have doubts about their child's paternity, that these tests are now available OTC. There goes all of the appeal of Maury Pauvich. Just hop on into your local Walgreens and pick up a test--no need for national televisation any more!
And yet--and yet--this is a trend that is only perpetuating itself. I subbed for a middle school teacher on Monday, and the cheerleaders were all in uniform, begging the question: Why are mini-skirt against the dress code and not cheerleading uniforms? The obvious answer may be that the girls wear something under their cheerleading skirts. Well, good grief, I hope that the girls wear something under their mini-skirts too. The issue is that although it's not quite such a big deal in middle school, by the time these girls are in high school, it's a perfect opportunity to flaunt their youthful legs, and I do not doubt for one second that horny teenage boys are taking every opportunity to try to see what really is under that cheerleading skirt.
And if the girls let them, well, that is how we come full circle to the paternity test dilemma.
This is what terrifies me about being a parent--not how to keep my child from making bad decisions, but how to instill them with a value system that will not allow bad decisions to even enter their minds.
And then I pray to God that no child of mine will ever need to buy an OTC paternity test.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
the art of dying
Regardless of my feelings about the weather this fall, it certainly has surpassed itself in terms of color. I can't remember a fall as vivid as this one in recent years. This particularly struck me on the one sunny day we've had in the last week or so. As the sun came out the trees underwent a miraculous transformation--they were golden, and burning red, and various shades of orange; the world lit up in the light of these colors.
I couldn't help thinking to myself, seeing the world going up in a flame of color, that trees really know how to die. They have perfected the art of dying in a blaze of glory, and if I have to die, that's how I would prefer to go.
But when humanity dies, we spend ourselves in a sea of pastels--silvers and grays, sometimes blue, muted colors that will not overwhelm or alarm our senses, that won't shock us into a premature departure. Since this thought about the art of dying entered my head I have been thinking about my grandma--she was 98 when she died, and she was a picture of the silvery state of old age: white hair, translucent skin, faded blue eyes, soft, soft hands, and a voice growing rusty after so many years of use. She is forever in my memory that way, stuck as "always-old." I wonder what it would be like to remember her in her younger days, when she had long auburn hair and bright blue eyes--features I can only imagine as her photos are all black and white.
We die in so many ways...the old dying slowly and softly, fading into shadows of themselves, while the trees set themselves ablaze, daring us not to notice their descent into winter.
I couldn't help thinking to myself, seeing the world going up in a flame of color, that trees really know how to die. They have perfected the art of dying in a blaze of glory, and if I have to die, that's how I would prefer to go.
But when humanity dies, we spend ourselves in a sea of pastels--silvers and grays, sometimes blue, muted colors that will not overwhelm or alarm our senses, that won't shock us into a premature departure. Since this thought about the art of dying entered my head I have been thinking about my grandma--she was 98 when she died, and she was a picture of the silvery state of old age: white hair, translucent skin, faded blue eyes, soft, soft hands, and a voice growing rusty after so many years of use. She is forever in my memory that way, stuck as "always-old." I wonder what it would be like to remember her in her younger days, when she had long auburn hair and bright blue eyes--features I can only imagine as her photos are all black and white.
We die in so many ways...the old dying slowly and softly, fading into shadows of themselves, while the trees set themselves ablaze, daring us not to notice their descent into winter.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
these are a few of my favorite things
I became an English major primarily because I have a sick obsession with books. The book that started it for me? Anne of Green Gables, in 3rd grade. It turns out there is an entire series of those books, so that kept me going for a while.
This sick obsession manifests itself in several ways. As my husband can attest, I am never NOT reading something. Although lately I only read for school assignments, I already have a list of things I want to read when this quarter ends. Whenever I move, the first thing packed and unpacked is my collection of books. Organizing my bookshelves is more exciting than unpacking the entire rest of the house. As they come out of their boxes I view each book as an old friend, waiting to be placed in its new home on the shelf.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step.
So I decided that I would make a list of my top 5 favorite books. This proved impossible, and I upped the count to 10. Not enough. So here are my top 15 favorite books--and yes, they are in order of favor.
15. Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt. I don't remember when I first read this book, but I instantly loved it, and if you're thinking you know this story because you saw the movie...I must insist that books are ALWAYS better than movies. I have yet to find an exception.
14. Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. I actually met Shauna at the Willow Creek Arts Conference 2 years ago, and she signed my book. With an orange pen that matched the cover. It was tremendously exciting. This is a beautiful book of self-reflection from someone who has grown up in the Christian world (she is Bill Hybels' daughter). Highly recommend this to all women.
13. The Neverending Story by Michael Ende. Again, if you think you know enough about this story because of the terrible 1980s movie(s) loosely based on Michael Ende's masterpiece, think again. This story is so engrossing that you will find yourself, like Bastian, becoming part of the book. I would love to see the movie remade to reflect his story.
12. Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller. When I read Blue Like Jazz, I did not see what all the hype was about. So I kind of wrote Donald Miller off...until someone gave me a copy of this book, a travel journal like none I have encountered before or since.
11. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. If you like writing, or just like reading really good writing, this is a funny and charming book. There are so many quotables that can be pulled from it, and Anne Lamott makes you feel like if you met her you would instantly be friends. (This is also how I felt about Shauna Niequist.) She has an irreverent sense of humor that makes you just love her.
10. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov. I read this in an undergrad class on Russian literature, and it is striking for 2 reasons. The first part of the book is a poem--a beautiful, haunting poem about death and loss and learning to live. But should this list inspire you to investigate any of these titles, be aware that the commentary in the second half of this book is a farce. And a masterpiece of parody it is. Nabokov wins the genius award for this one.
9. Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich. I had a hard time choosing my favorite of her books. She is a Native American author with a voice that sings out of each page--her books are beautiful. There is no other way to describe them. This one is probably the most epic, but if you decide you want to read her, I have yet to find a book I don't like.
8. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. I would be remiss if I did not include this on my list, for I have loved this series since childhood. I remember finding books 6 and 7 in my grandparents' basement one year, and doing the equivalent of inhaling them. This one may always be my favorite because of the imagery it holds. You can't explain the Gospel more simply.
7. Gravity and Grace by Simone Weil. Another book that I read in undergrad that has stayed with me. My copy is underlined, highlighted, and tabbed to tears. Simone Weil is one of the great female philosophers, and this book is a collection of her thoughts and essays.
6. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a Harry Potter nut, and that I bear a special affinity for Hermione's character. If I could only read one of the Harry Potter books over and over again, it would be this one. It is THAT good.
5. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. If you have not read anything by Joan Didion, do it now. She is amazing. She began writing essays in the political movements of the 60s and 70s, and she captures the fervor of those decades effortlessly. This book is about the year immediately following the death of her husband, and it is poignant and moving.
4. Dracula by Bram Stoker. You may think that you know vampire stories because you have watched Buffy or read the Twilight series (yes, I have done both). But the original is much more thrilling, and more satisfying. Stephanie Meyer can't hold a candle to Stoker's original vampire mastermind.
3. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. Another author among whose works I have yet to find something I don't like. But this is her tour de force. It takes the lives of 4 Chinese mothers and traces their history as they come to America, have families, and leave their Chinese families behind. The 4 daughters must struggle to assimilate their Chinese heritage with their American culture. Amy Tan is one of those writers whose every word verges on poetry. This is a redemption story unlike any other I have read.
2. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. I'm pretty sure that I could write my dissertation on this book and still miss some of the minute details that lie in every paragraph. This is truly a masterpiece. Originally banned in Russia at the time of publication, it takes a stance on religion and politics that is funny and powerful at the same time. The Devil comes to Moscow and all hell breaks loose. But this is a Devil like you've never seen him before. And this Devil brings peace to the restless. Bulgakov is a master of his words, his allusions, his history, his story.
1. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I don't know that I can convey just how much I love this book. Again, Barbara Kingsolver is an author I adore in general, but THIS book...this book is one of those books that sticks in your brain, and every time I read it I remember why I love it so much. (And I probably read it at least once a year.) Following a Baptist preacher and his wife and 4 daughters into the Congo, this story is one of remorse and forgiveness, life and death, love and pain, and how the human spirit goes on or gives up. Whenever I recommend this book, I tell people to make sure they get through the first part, since to someone less effusive it might be tedious. But this is a book you will not regret reading.
So there is my list. These are my friends. I cannot really express the way these books have embedded themselves in my mind, and they are all repeat-reads. I could probably make a top 50 list, given enough time, but who wants to read that?
This sick obsession manifests itself in several ways. As my husband can attest, I am never NOT reading something. Although lately I only read for school assignments, I already have a list of things I want to read when this quarter ends. Whenever I move, the first thing packed and unpacked is my collection of books. Organizing my bookshelves is more exciting than unpacking the entire rest of the house. As they come out of their boxes I view each book as an old friend, waiting to be placed in its new home on the shelf.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step.
So I decided that I would make a list of my top 5 favorite books. This proved impossible, and I upped the count to 10. Not enough. So here are my top 15 favorite books--and yes, they are in order of favor.
15. Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt. I don't remember when I first read this book, but I instantly loved it, and if you're thinking you know this story because you saw the movie...I must insist that books are ALWAYS better than movies. I have yet to find an exception.
14. Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. I actually met Shauna at the Willow Creek Arts Conference 2 years ago, and she signed my book. With an orange pen that matched the cover. It was tremendously exciting. This is a beautiful book of self-reflection from someone who has grown up in the Christian world (she is Bill Hybels' daughter). Highly recommend this to all women.
13. The Neverending Story by Michael Ende. Again, if you think you know enough about this story because of the terrible 1980s movie(s) loosely based on Michael Ende's masterpiece, think again. This story is so engrossing that you will find yourself, like Bastian, becoming part of the book. I would love to see the movie remade to reflect his story.
12. Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller. When I read Blue Like Jazz, I did not see what all the hype was about. So I kind of wrote Donald Miller off...until someone gave me a copy of this book, a travel journal like none I have encountered before or since.
11. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. If you like writing, or just like reading really good writing, this is a funny and charming book. There are so many quotables that can be pulled from it, and Anne Lamott makes you feel like if you met her you would instantly be friends. (This is also how I felt about Shauna Niequist.) She has an irreverent sense of humor that makes you just love her.
10. Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov. I read this in an undergrad class on Russian literature, and it is striking for 2 reasons. The first part of the book is a poem--a beautiful, haunting poem about death and loss and learning to live. But should this list inspire you to investigate any of these titles, be aware that the commentary in the second half of this book is a farce. And a masterpiece of parody it is. Nabokov wins the genius award for this one.
9. Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich. I had a hard time choosing my favorite of her books. She is a Native American author with a voice that sings out of each page--her books are beautiful. There is no other way to describe them. This one is probably the most epic, but if you decide you want to read her, I have yet to find a book I don't like.
8. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. I would be remiss if I did not include this on my list, for I have loved this series since childhood. I remember finding books 6 and 7 in my grandparents' basement one year, and doing the equivalent of inhaling them. This one may always be my favorite because of the imagery it holds. You can't explain the Gospel more simply.
7. Gravity and Grace by Simone Weil. Another book that I read in undergrad that has stayed with me. My copy is underlined, highlighted, and tabbed to tears. Simone Weil is one of the great female philosophers, and this book is a collection of her thoughts and essays.
6. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a Harry Potter nut, and that I bear a special affinity for Hermione's character. If I could only read one of the Harry Potter books over and over again, it would be this one. It is THAT good.
5. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. If you have not read anything by Joan Didion, do it now. She is amazing. She began writing essays in the political movements of the 60s and 70s, and she captures the fervor of those decades effortlessly. This book is about the year immediately following the death of her husband, and it is poignant and moving.
4. Dracula by Bram Stoker. You may think that you know vampire stories because you have watched Buffy or read the Twilight series (yes, I have done both). But the original is much more thrilling, and more satisfying. Stephanie Meyer can't hold a candle to Stoker's original vampire mastermind.
3. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan. Another author among whose works I have yet to find something I don't like. But this is her tour de force. It takes the lives of 4 Chinese mothers and traces their history as they come to America, have families, and leave their Chinese families behind. The 4 daughters must struggle to assimilate their Chinese heritage with their American culture. Amy Tan is one of those writers whose every word verges on poetry. This is a redemption story unlike any other I have read.
2. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. I'm pretty sure that I could write my dissertation on this book and still miss some of the minute details that lie in every paragraph. This is truly a masterpiece. Originally banned in Russia at the time of publication, it takes a stance on religion and politics that is funny and powerful at the same time. The Devil comes to Moscow and all hell breaks loose. But this is a Devil like you've never seen him before. And this Devil brings peace to the restless. Bulgakov is a master of his words, his allusions, his history, his story.
1. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. I don't know that I can convey just how much I love this book. Again, Barbara Kingsolver is an author I adore in general, but THIS book...this book is one of those books that sticks in your brain, and every time I read it I remember why I love it so much. (And I probably read it at least once a year.) Following a Baptist preacher and his wife and 4 daughters into the Congo, this story is one of remorse and forgiveness, life and death, love and pain, and how the human spirit goes on or gives up. Whenever I recommend this book, I tell people to make sure they get through the first part, since to someone less effusive it might be tedious. But this is a book you will not regret reading.
So there is my list. These are my friends. I cannot really express the way these books have embedded themselves in my mind, and they are all repeat-reads. I could probably make a top 50 list, given enough time, but who wants to read that?
Sunday, October 11, 2009
on my mind
It has lately become a habit of mine that while driving home from class (in Chicago, 3 nights a week...) I think about topics to potentially blog about. So I do have some fun ones in store, people. Let me know you're reading; it makes me feel bad when I don't post.
Topic One: A few weeks ago I was at the mall, and outside a store which I have never entered (mainly out of fear of being attacked by overbearing salespeople) was a small congregation of people--a couple of nice-looking (and by nice-looking, I don't mean that they looked "nice") girls, and a pretty attractive (and pretty cut) guy...without a shirt on.
I was taken aback by this. Mystified. Slightly appalled.
I walked by in a hurry, trying not to look in that direction, but not really being able to help it...kind of like a train wreck.
It threw me for such a loop that I haven't been able to really process what was happening there. Obviously some kind of intense advertising ploy. And although I'm not really one for boycotts, I don't think I will be frequenting aforementioned store.
I think I am beginning to understand why it bothered me so much. It's the sad fact that sex sells. That the word sexy does not mean what it really means anymore--it has evolved into a common adjective that often really doesn't even pertain to sex. It pertains to an illusion, to some elusive standard that has overtaken our culture, the essence of desire, sleekness, seduction, attraction.
We are really living in a sex-saturated culture, and it scares me to think of what it will be like by the time my kids are in their teens. What it will mean for my currently-non-existent daughter to grow up in a culture that feeds off sex and sexual imagery.
I wrote a paper last spring for a medieval class I was taking about the "sex factor" in medieval times and the effect it had on the development of gender roles. In the 12th-14th centuries, sex was a taboo topic. You couldn't, in good conscience, even have sex for any reason other than procreation, and that only on less than one-third of the days out of a given year, due to religious holidays, saints' days, etc. So how did we get from there to here? Somewhere along the way, people realized that it didn't have to be a sinful thing. And I can get on that bandwagon. Sex in the context of marriage--not a sinful thing. Not even when you're not procreating. But THEN, culture continued to perpetuate this notion that sex isn't a big deal. And that's when we run into trouble.
Now that sex isn't a big deal, it shows up everywhere--movies, TV shows, books, ads, commercials, even IN THE MALL. Does this end somewhere? Does it reach a limit and then recede? Or does it continue in the same pattern, leading to looser boundaries and reduced limits?
I recently led a small group of high school girls, watching some of them graduate last spring that had come into my group as freshman. How do you convince teenage girls to hold onto their dignity and their purity in a culture that is telling them to be sexy at all costs? I resorted to telling them to hike up their shirts and wear skirts/shorts that actually covered more than three inches of their legs...but it might not be enough to combat the rising flood of sexiness.
I have to laugh at the irony of me writing this post...as I sit on the couch with my hair up, glasses on, decked out in sweats. The complete opposite of sexy, if you will.
I think I may start carrying around an excess of clothes. Apparently that guy in the mall was in need of a shirt, and I didn't have one to give him. What a sad story.
Topic One: A few weeks ago I was at the mall, and outside a store which I have never entered (mainly out of fear of being attacked by overbearing salespeople) was a small congregation of people--a couple of nice-looking (and by nice-looking, I don't mean that they looked "nice") girls, and a pretty attractive (and pretty cut) guy...without a shirt on.
I was taken aback by this. Mystified. Slightly appalled.
I walked by in a hurry, trying not to look in that direction, but not really being able to help it...kind of like a train wreck.
It threw me for such a loop that I haven't been able to really process what was happening there. Obviously some kind of intense advertising ploy. And although I'm not really one for boycotts, I don't think I will be frequenting aforementioned store.
I think I am beginning to understand why it bothered me so much. It's the sad fact that sex sells. That the word sexy does not mean what it really means anymore--it has evolved into a common adjective that often really doesn't even pertain to sex. It pertains to an illusion, to some elusive standard that has overtaken our culture, the essence of desire, sleekness, seduction, attraction.
We are really living in a sex-saturated culture, and it scares me to think of what it will be like by the time my kids are in their teens. What it will mean for my currently-non-existent daughter to grow up in a culture that feeds off sex and sexual imagery.
I wrote a paper last spring for a medieval class I was taking about the "sex factor" in medieval times and the effect it had on the development of gender roles. In the 12th-14th centuries, sex was a taboo topic. You couldn't, in good conscience, even have sex for any reason other than procreation, and that only on less than one-third of the days out of a given year, due to religious holidays, saints' days, etc. So how did we get from there to here? Somewhere along the way, people realized that it didn't have to be a sinful thing. And I can get on that bandwagon. Sex in the context of marriage--not a sinful thing. Not even when you're not procreating. But THEN, culture continued to perpetuate this notion that sex isn't a big deal. And that's when we run into trouble.
Now that sex isn't a big deal, it shows up everywhere--movies, TV shows, books, ads, commercials, even IN THE MALL. Does this end somewhere? Does it reach a limit and then recede? Or does it continue in the same pattern, leading to looser boundaries and reduced limits?
I recently led a small group of high school girls, watching some of them graduate last spring that had come into my group as freshman. How do you convince teenage girls to hold onto their dignity and their purity in a culture that is telling them to be sexy at all costs? I resorted to telling them to hike up their shirts and wear skirts/shorts that actually covered more than three inches of their legs...but it might not be enough to combat the rising flood of sexiness.
I have to laugh at the irony of me writing this post...as I sit on the couch with my hair up, glasses on, decked out in sweats. The complete opposite of sexy, if you will.
I think I may start carrying around an excess of clothes. Apparently that guy in the mall was in need of a shirt, and I didn't have one to give him. What a sad story.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
things i cannot begin to understand
I have realized lately that there are many things in life that just don't make sense to me. Here is the short list:
1. Marathons. The Chicago marathon is coming up in a few weeks, and for the life of me I cannot understand marathoners. I can appreciate the fitness aspect, as I myself enjoy a short run (usually 5 miles or less) fairly regularly. But 26 miles is a bit extreme. I think I will even say crazy. Do people know what happens to you when you run 26 miles? Consecutively? You lose your bladder/bowel control. That alone is enough reason to not run a marathon. You also burn about 3 days' worth of calories--which is not nearly enough motivation to get me in public and not be able to control my bowel functions.
2. Skateboards. Call me old, but I saw two guys walking down the street last night--one walking, the other on a skateboard. And they were traveling at the same speed. So what's the point of a skateboard again? Unless you are Marty McFly, I'm going to say skateboards are unnecessary. And will leave you with more muscles in one leg than the other. Which may leave you looking a little lopsided.
3. Fergie. I cannot think of one single song by Fergie that I have heard without knowing it was her and thought, "Oh, I like that song, I wonder who sings it." Not one. So let's state the facts here: she is really not that talented. She is really not that attractive. Her songs are terrible. But hey, at least we know she can spell the word "glamorous."
4. The evolution of the word LIKE. This has plagued me for years. Like is a word meant to be used in comparisons--his eyes are blue like the sky, or as a verb--I like pizza. Like is not a filler word for when you don't know what else to say. Like is not a substitute for a comma. Like should not be inserted between every other word you speak. Like used to be a word relegated to a specific people group--the Valley Girls, the preps. It has devolved so far that I now hear it when talking with kids starting at the age of about 6. Preservationists of the English language, we must take a stand against this word!
5. Chicago's Olympic bid. If Chicago gets the Olympic bid, I sincerely hope that I do not live here by that time. The preparations are going to be awful. In the five years I have lived in the suburbs, not once have the tollways been free of construction. Let's imagine this for the next five years as well if we get the bid. Sure, the aftermath will be great--nice paved roads that will only have to be resurfaced every year or so after the winter cracking, giving us MORE construction...I guess I'm just not that into the Olympics. Boo if you must.
6. Women's fashions. This needs no explanation.
7. Genetics. If you know me and my sister, you know that we are nothing alike, and yet we have nearly the same genetic makeup. This baffles me. In my family, the oldest cousins in each family have very similar characteristics. The rest are a hodge podge, to say the least. Why is this? If someone could interpret DNA to me, this would be very helpful.
8.Why we continuously choose to live life in a stupor. So this is the serious one. Tuesday I was at school walking to class in the rain, but the sun was shining. Over my building I saw a perfect arch of a rainbow. I looked around me then and realized that no one else was noticing this. How is it that there is this remarkable world around us at all times and we consistently close our eyes to it? We become absorbed in our own little worlds, which contain none of the majesty of the greater world around us, the canvas of the great Creator. Too often we walk in a tunnel. Let us step into the light.
1. Marathons. The Chicago marathon is coming up in a few weeks, and for the life of me I cannot understand marathoners. I can appreciate the fitness aspect, as I myself enjoy a short run (usually 5 miles or less) fairly regularly. But 26 miles is a bit extreme. I think I will even say crazy. Do people know what happens to you when you run 26 miles? Consecutively? You lose your bladder/bowel control. That alone is enough reason to not run a marathon. You also burn about 3 days' worth of calories--which is not nearly enough motivation to get me in public and not be able to control my bowel functions.
2. Skateboards. Call me old, but I saw two guys walking down the street last night--one walking, the other on a skateboard. And they were traveling at the same speed. So what's the point of a skateboard again? Unless you are Marty McFly, I'm going to say skateboards are unnecessary. And will leave you with more muscles in one leg than the other. Which may leave you looking a little lopsided.
3. Fergie. I cannot think of one single song by Fergie that I have heard without knowing it was her and thought, "Oh, I like that song, I wonder who sings it." Not one. So let's state the facts here: she is really not that talented. She is really not that attractive. Her songs are terrible. But hey, at least we know she can spell the word "glamorous."
4. The evolution of the word LIKE. This has plagued me for years. Like is a word meant to be used in comparisons--his eyes are blue like the sky, or as a verb--I like pizza. Like is not a filler word for when you don't know what else to say. Like is not a substitute for a comma. Like should not be inserted between every other word you speak. Like used to be a word relegated to a specific people group--the Valley Girls, the preps. It has devolved so far that I now hear it when talking with kids starting at the age of about 6. Preservationists of the English language, we must take a stand against this word!
5. Chicago's Olympic bid. If Chicago gets the Olympic bid, I sincerely hope that I do not live here by that time. The preparations are going to be awful. In the five years I have lived in the suburbs, not once have the tollways been free of construction. Let's imagine this for the next five years as well if we get the bid. Sure, the aftermath will be great--nice paved roads that will only have to be resurfaced every year or so after the winter cracking, giving us MORE construction...I guess I'm just not that into the Olympics. Boo if you must.
6. Women's fashions. This needs no explanation.
7. Genetics. If you know me and my sister, you know that we are nothing alike, and yet we have nearly the same genetic makeup. This baffles me. In my family, the oldest cousins in each family have very similar characteristics. The rest are a hodge podge, to say the least. Why is this? If someone could interpret DNA to me, this would be very helpful.
8.Why we continuously choose to live life in a stupor. So this is the serious one. Tuesday I was at school walking to class in the rain, but the sun was shining. Over my building I saw a perfect arch of a rainbow. I looked around me then and realized that no one else was noticing this. How is it that there is this remarkable world around us at all times and we consistently close our eyes to it? We become absorbed in our own little worlds, which contain none of the majesty of the greater world around us, the canvas of the great Creator. Too often we walk in a tunnel. Let us step into the light.
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