Hello 2019

You know that one stock photo image of the beautiful, fit, young woman sitting on a couch cradling a steaming mug in her hands as she smiles contentedly into the middle distance? She's wearing impossibly flattering athleisure wear and a chunky sweater, and her hair is in that perfect "I don't care" messy bun that still looks great. The couch is overstuffed, but roomy, and her long legs are folded up under her in a way that looks comfortable, but never actually is when you try it in real life. The lighting is usually warm and soft, and the house is spotlessly neat and decorated with understated sophistication. The whole thing exudes coziness and contentment.

I recently finished listening to Brené Brown's I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn't) audiobook. At one point she talks about a particular advertising image that she has internalized and set up as a standard for herself and her life which she now struggles to let go of. It doesn't matter what it was exactly; the point is that as she was describing it I thought "that's kind of weird. I've definitely never done that."

Cut to this morning. I was sitting on my couch at 10am, holding my mug of steaming tea, and having a moment of intense gratitude as I luxuriated in the bright morning sunlight filling my living room. And suddenly I had the thought "this is it, Emily. This is that moment that you're always seeing in pictures and wondering why you never experience it in real life. You don't have the perfectly clean and decorated house, you don't look fresh-faced and effortlessly put together, and you don't have that beautiful lithe body, but this is exactly what you're always pining for. Those details don't negate what you're experiencing right now"

But no, Brené. I've definitely never internalized an advertising image and set it up as an unattainable ideal for my life...

I decided I wanted to post a status about what a great moment I was experiencing, but my brother called me and I had to block out the scarf I just knitted, and then my dog reminded me that I promised her we'd go on a walk an hour ago, so I didn't get to the facebook status.

I did, however, take Tess on her walk. We walked down around the cemetery, which is normal, and then crossed 9th and State streets to visit the little park behind the school, which is not. We crossed paths with a few humans and a couple dogs. We spent some time playing on the school's playground equipment (Tess adores playground equipment). We walked past the house I used to live in and looked at the other beautiful old homes on the same street. Crossing back over State street to finish circling the cemetery there was a woman stopped at the light who was watching us cross in front of her and smiling. It was sunny and breezy and there was snow on the lawns, but the sidewalks were almost all dry. It was a perfect walk in every way. When we were nearly home, I suddenly became aware of how much easier a walk like this was compared to when I first got Tess two years ago. I’ve long since given up on the idea that walking Tess was ever going to really improve my fitness, so this was an immensely gratifying realization.

As I walked I thought about my morning, what I really wanted to say about it, and what a beautiful day it was. I didn't even make the Brené Brown connection till I was halfway through. When I finally got home a little while ago and started writing, however, I realized I had more to say than would fit in a facebook update...though as it turns out, a lot of it is just context and narration.

I think that what most caught my attention was realizing that, at least for today, I’m ok with the places where I fell short of the ideal. I love my big, strong, soft body that is stubborn and slow to change, just like me...because it is me. I love my messy, eclectic home with dog hair in the corners. I am satisfied with my priorities, which don’t often include doing my hair and putting on makeup.

I guess what I really wanted to say is that today is a good day, and I am happy.

Day 4: Heavy thoughts on the state of the the world

Today's prompt was "What is your favorite fairytale and why" which is something that anyone who knows me knows I should be pumped about. I'll probably do that one later on, because I do love fairytales.

But today I'm not feeling fairytales. Today I am thinking a lot about the world we live in. Last night I decided I want to try to take a break from Facebook for a while. I realized that for the last couple of weeks the time that I have spent scrolling through the feed and interacting with people has left me feeling unhappy. I feel anxious and depressed and hopeless.

This is not news to anyone. If we thought things were contentious before November, it only got worse after. To be fair to everyone, I am pretty sure it would have been that way no matter who won (except maybe Bernie Sanders). I will say that the despair would probably have been less dramatic (if no less impassioned) had Hillary won, if only because not a lot of things would have changed. Many people said that Hillary's presidency would be Obama's third term. I give Hillary a little more credit than that, but I do think that transitioning from one democratic president to the next would entail very little grand change. Conservatives could go on hating the government and all presidential policy, and liberals could continue complaining that things weren't changing fast enough.

Trump's victory, however, and the additional election of a Republican congress is a bit different. I'm not talking about Trump as the antiChrist rebirth of Hitler. I just mean that we are completely changing track, if not turning around and heading back where we came from. Trump campaigned on the promise of change, and that is what we will get. And that kind of huge dramatic change causes ripples. Republicans were looking at essentially a continuation of the status quo if Hillary won. Democrats are looking at not just moving ahead in a new direction, but the destruction of everything that they have fought bitterly for over the last several decades. And while that probably sounds like music to the ears of Republicans, I think that they should not be so surprised and disgusted that people are taking it hard.

But that brings me to the meat of the issue. And that is the bitter hatred each party seems to have for the other. There is no level of understanding. Republicans are in full victory mode. They won, so now they get to do what they want, no matter how petty it might be. And they're going to tear down every single thing that Barack Obama ever so much as looked at and smiled. Regardless whether it actually worked, or helped people, or wasn't overtly "Democratic". And Democrats? They are either despairing that the world is ending and we're all going to die in a nuclear winter, or gearing up for an all out war made of the last 8 years of Republican tactics we all couldn't stand just a few months ago.

Society is divided into an Us and a Them. The lines might vary depending on who you are and what you believe in, but what doesn't change is that there is a winner and more importantly, there is a very clear loser. In fact, for it to really count as a victory, your enemy must lose, and hopefully suffer in their losing. Because the word compromise has become synonymous with failure

I think the most depressing part of this is that it is aggressively encompassing. I grew up Republican, with liberal leanings given me by my mother (who I don't think ever realized how brave she was being a Mormon Democrat before there were facebook groups to support her). I migrated into unaffiliated territory as I grew up. I didn't identify as liberal till the last couple of years. And even then I was a conservative liberal. But all of a sudden I find myself digging in to debates on Planned Parenthood and the ACA. I find myself writing impassioned micro essays in facebook threads. But most of all, I come out of those encounters filled with disgust and anger, and absolutely no more understanding of anyone else's opinions but mine than I started with. I was literally raised in the ideology that I am now arguing against, I still have plenty of friends and family who believe it, and  yet I cannot fathom most of their opinions.

I saw a post yesterday calling out Obama for the hypocrisy of his farewell speech, talking about liberty when he had personally enacted "the biggest threat to freedom this nation has ever seen" (also known as the ACA). I said something about how putting the ACA on par with Japanese internment camps and slavery is a bit melodramatic. In his response he said "why do you like the ACA? You're the first person I've spoken to who has." I'm just stuck on that. The internet brings the world to our fingertips and yet we manage to pare it down and edit it to the point that the only way someone can hear something they disagree with is because you somehow became facebook friends with your wife's one liberal cousin and now it would be awkward to unfriend her because you see each other occasionally at funerals. I don't mean to call out this guy specifically. It is true of everyone, including myself.

But later on, on that same status someone else commented in response to me that the ACA IS slavery. Any time the government forces people to buy something they don't want it is slavery. The level of social insulation required to make that statement nearly made my brain explode. But to that guy, and more significantly, to everyone else on that thread who didn't say "I'm sorry, are you insane?", his statement made sense. It was true. I don't know how you navigate a world with divisions that fundamental.

And that's the problem. I fancy myself an understanding person. I like to think that I can listen to people and understand them. But I feel like I'm losing that. I feel like the world is losing that. I feel like communication is dying, and all that is left is propaganda and the need to be right and prove other people wrong. If I can't stop it happening to myself, what hope is there of stopping it happening to the world?

Funeral

(This post is my answer to a challenge to write a story in 250 words. Tell me what you think, unless what you think is that you hate it, in which case, keep your opinion to yourself.)

He stared at the dead animal. This was just too perfect. He smiled grimly, envisioning himself scooping up the broken, bloody bundle of fur, and taking it with him to the funeral. Perhaps even laying it in the coffin, beside his great aunt’s body, to enjoy the same pompous last rites. She would have laughed. She always laughed when he was funny.

The rest of the family, of course, would stare in open-mouthed horror, whispering their outrage.

“What’s wrong with him?!”

“Surely even he can respect a funeral!”

His mother would be silent, of course. Humiliated once again by her strange son. She probably should have put him into an institution years ago, but now he was too old…

He shook his head, dismissing the daydream.

He picked up the small body and gently carried it across the road into the field. He laid it down in a hollow and slowly ripped up handful after handful of grass to cover it. It would make a welcome meal for some fox tonight, but for now he could honor the life he had taken.

“It ran under your wheels,” he heard his aunt say, “it wasn’t your fault.”

He did not feel better.

“You cannot control these things,” she’d said, “Animals know when their time is up. But sometimes we need help to let go.”

She had always called him her little helper.

This small funeral completed at last, he got back in his car and continued driving to the next.

1/3 Life Crises

This post is none of the nerdy and analytical posts I've been mulling over lately.  This one is a spur of the moment musing mainly to (as usual anymore) give vent to some of my life angstiety (do you see what I did there?).  Because tonight I finally forced myself to get back to that loathsome task of looking for a new job.  I got that interview last week and I sort of just stopped thinking about the job hunt.  But I was supposed to hear back from them on Friday and I still haven't, and even if I do and they decide to offer me the job I am deeply divided about taking it.  Which is all to say that I need to find some other options.

So tonight I decided to look for some other jobs to apply for.  Interestingly, I'm realizing I don't really want to continue in my current field.  To be sure, in the end I might not have any choice.  But I still have a little bit of time to look around, and so I found myself trying to find alternative employment to PCB Assembly (what you google if you want to find jobs like the one I currently have).

Of course, my immediate thought was "Ok!  Let's see what kind of jobs are available in the world of publishing!" because I have no grasp of reality.  After too much time wasted wandering around the internet, conducting penetrating searches like "publishing jobs" I had the brilliant idea to google instead "how do you get an entry level job in publishing?"  I came across this very interesting and useful article which, unfortunately, convinced me merely that if I wanted to get a job in the publishing industry I should have started the process in January.

Mulling over this failure of time management of course led me to consider my other planning-related failings, specifically, my absolute lack of life-planning.  Once again I looked at my trajectory in life thus-far and marvelled at the absolute lack of navigation.  It is astonishing that such a haphazard existence has not yet crashed into a metaphorical telephone pole and combusted vigorously.  It began as soon as I graduated high school with the selection of which college to attend.  And by "selection of college" I mean that I simply neglected to reply to any other schools which admitted me, and thus ended up at BYU without putting any real thought into it at all.  Once in my carefully selected school I proceeded to spend a very long time getting a very little education.  I did manage to score a degree...in a superlatively generic field of study.  And I did nothing else in my decade-long tenure as a student that might be useful to me now, like an internship or involvement in any campus programs. Despite my father periodically asking me about such things, somehow they still never registered on my radar of activities I should (or indeed could) actually do.

The thing is, even if it had ever crossed my mind to look for an internship or to get involved in some campus program, I wouldn't have had much idea which ones to pursue.  Because my ultimate problem is a lack of real ambition.  This is no new revelation.  I have known for some years now that I have no idea where I'm going in life because I have no idea what I want.  Or, those things that I do aspire to I immediately write off as unrealistic fantasies, and thereby avert the anxiety and hard work of actually pursuing them.

But tonight, reading about the process of wedging a toe into the publishing industry, I found myself experiencing a magical fusion of two previously entirely separate branches of my anxiety.  As I sat here thinking about my life and where I want it to go and how I need to find a goal...suddenly I had the mental equivalent of one of those creepy Vertigo zooms.  I leap-frogged right over picking a goal and started looking at the process of achieving that goal.  Specifically how long it will take.  And suddenly my 10 years of college became so much more of a waste than they've ever seemed before.  Most people my age have spent the last 5-7 years slogging through the initial stages of that process, but here I am literally starting from scratch and on the eve of my third decade.  Even if I start right now, by the time I get through the same things I could be nearly 40.

You could say that this job hunt, delayed and ignored and put off, is a microcosm of my life--when I finally decide to take it seriously I am on the verge of too late to find the right thing and may simply have to settle for the most expedient.  And I don't know which is worse: to continue drifting haphazardly through life or finally deciding on a direction only to realize that my chance to pursue it has come and gone.

Suitably Hirsute

...

In a largish transmogrification from my typical attitude, I have found myself more and more frequently striving to achieve what I like to call "Sexy Genius Hair."

Sexy Genius Hair, as you may have presupposed, is typically found on Sexy Geniuses.  Note the capitalization, which, as we all know, distinguishes a Sexy Genius family from a sexy genius family.  The former is fairly prevalent and found primarily in its native habitat of Television.  That latter is far more rare and found exclusively in The Real World (this family is far more difficult to classify due to the conflicting list of characteristics used by different scientists for classification).

But back to the point.  There are several major genuses of Sexy Genius, ranging from, to name but a few, the Awkwardly Adorable Sexy Genius to the Difficult and Actually Quite Rude but Fictionally Worth It Because He Is So Sexy Genius, to the Mysterious Sexy Genius; each can be relatively clearly categorized by its standard markings and iconic traits.  Sexy Genius Hair, however, can be found throughout the family, and often will vary in nature with the particular genus and even species.  Allow me to present some examples:

from here

image here

image from here

image via: here

via this tumblr

via this site that you probably shouldn't visit cause it looks shifty

As you can see, while it may be straight or curly, and even on rare occasions shortish, the real key to Sexy Genius Hair is that it must look simultaneously sexy, and yet also as though the Sexy Genius displaying it gives exactly zero bothers over it.  Indeed, it can and often will be mussed frequently, after which it magically returns to perfect sexiness.

Obviously, it is important to note that Sexy Genius Hair is found almost exclusively on the males.  Some scientists have argued that MPDG Hair is the female equivalent, but I maintain that the two are quite distinct and it is possible, though quite rare, for a female to achieve Sexy Genius Hair.

It is this belief which has inspired my own hirsute sartorial endeavors.  One specimen in particular could reasonably be cited as the genesis of my ambitions...

via

via

via

Alas, I have not yet quite achieved a perfect Sexy Genius Hair.  But today I got close.

And tomorrow I shall most likely try again.  Rome was not built in a day, nor do species evolve over night.  My Sexy Genius Hair is no more a simple endeavor than those, and so I press on with the struggle of looking effortless...

Driving home...

One of my favorite parts of my day is the drive to and from work.  Especially going home in the evenings.  From Payson up to Provo I get such a magnificent view of the valley and in the evenings the light shines across from one side to the other and lights the mountains up so they glow.  Add in some clouds and you have some legitimately breathtaking vistas.

This evening was one such.  I worked a bit late tonight so I was driving home about 8 o'clock.  We've had much more rain this summer than I remember getting any other summer I've lived here, and today was another cloudy day.  The western sky was clouded over, with a small clear strip just above the mountains.  Mostly the mountains were dark, but right in the middle was a break that created a bowl full of pristine, clear orange light that spilled out and lit up the undersides of the clouds.  It was raining over the foothills, so the all that glowing orange was softly streaked with grey, and there were very occasional white flashes of far distant lightning.  Across the valley the east mountains were also dark through Provo, but up north the point of the mountain was all alight.  Around Spanish Fork I could see it was lit with these soft diffused rays shining out from behind the Lake mountains, also streaked with falling rain.  It was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen and trying to describe it here is so incredibly inadequate.

As I tried to stare at that sunset as much as I possibly could whilst also managing not to wreck my car, I thought about the conversation I had with my friend Bryan last night.  We were discussing an experimental opera he'd worked on with some friends this summer and how much he'd enjoyed attending the single performance.  I pointed out that, while I understand that the ephemerality (which is apparently a real word?) of something only performed once is a part of the art, I am nevertheless struck by the melancholy of such things.  Once they're gone they're gone and if you didn't get to experience them you never will get another chance.  Sure there will be other things and other times, but that particular moment is gone.

This is much the same feeling I have every evening driving home.

When I see something like tonight's sunset I feel like I must look at it for as long as it is there.  Once it's gone it's gone and if I don't watch it while it's there it might as well never have happened at all.  Somehow my experiencing of it adds value.  When I think about it rationally I know that isn't true.  A beautiful moment is beautiful regardless of observation. And even if it wasn't, surely there is someone else out there who looked up for a moment and noticed those rays of sunlight spilling through those clouds.

But I don't know that.  And that places an obligation on me to observe it all if I possibly can.  This awesome, gorgeous world has been given to all of us and the least I can do is to appreciate the beauty it provides.  I can be the eyes and the memory that record that sunset so that even though it will never happen just the same way ever again, it isn't gone without a trace.  Even though I know that doesn't really make any sense.  And even though I know, and mourn just a little bit, all the billions of moments that happen every day that I can never observe.  I did see this one.  I felt that ache in my chest that comes from an exquisite experience.

I looked and I saw and that moment is mine.

lacking an actual picture of this evening, this is a picture of a different
place at a different time that is sort of similar.
got the pic here:
 http://www.errant-ronin.com/PrudhoeBayUshuaia/PBU-Part07-Mexico-Down.htm

Gym Issues

I went to the gym today.  It was part of my ongoing struggle to fill my Saturdays with something...ANYthing worthwhile.  Filling my time successfully is a topic for another post, however.  My point today is that I went to the gym.  

Every time I go to the gym my "routine" consists of the exact same thing.  I head straight back into the comfortably dark "cardio cinema" room, where I walk (with the very occasional addition of 15 seconds of jogging) at varying speeds on the treadmill.  I do this for 20-30 minutes, 45 if I like the movie they're playing.  Then I stop the treadmill and walk right back out to my car.  I might stop at the water fountain on my way out.

About 60% of the time I have much more ambitious aspirations about my workout on my way in.  I'm going to do my 20 minutes of cardio, but then I'm going to use some of those fancy fancy machines that I pass every time going in and out of my friendly cocoon of darkness in the back.  I'm going to stretch.  I'm going to really get the kind of work out you're "supposed" to get when you go to the gym.

Do you know how many times that has actually happened?

none.  none times.

The first blow to my plan is all the bros.  As I walk into the cardio cinema room I will pass on average 5-8 swole dudes sauntering around.  These are the guys who you look at and cannot imagine anything else they do with their life besides work out.  Except maybe summer sales.  And the strange wandering they do around the gym when they're not actually working out in it.  I mean, where are they walking to?  Why don't they just go home if they are done working out? 

There is literally no human being on earth more incompatible with my personality than a bro.  I'm more than willing to admit that this is partially my fault, but the fact is, bros (and their attendant ladybros to a marginally lesser extent) don't really appreciate the things that make me me.  They tend not to appreciate my sense of humor, my interests, and they definitely don't appreciate my physique.  And the feeling is almost always mutual.

Which is fine, btw.  It is perfectly ok if the bros and I never really hit it off.  We don't exactly have anything to do with each other.

except at the gym.

Because the gym is their house.  Going to the gym and expecting not to find bros there is like going to the chapel on Sunday morning and expecting not to find Mormons.  It's stupid.  Unfortunately, like church, you're still expected to go to the gym.

The second problem is, of course, only a problem because of the first.  And that is my complete ignorance of how to actually use all of those aforementioned fancy machines.  Put me in a room by myself and I'll happily sit down and start pushing and pulling till I figure it out.  I'll quote Bryan Regan.  It will be fun.  

But as we've already established, you're not alone at the gym.  You're surrounded by an entire flock of the people you find yourself most uncomfortable with (to be fair, I'd probably find myself more uncomfortable with, like, a room full of neo-nazi militant ultraconservatives, or perhaps a room full of cracked out pimps).  That is not a situation conducive to me dropping my guard enough to look like an idiot as I figure out the machines.  

And lastly, there's always the problem of me being fat and out of shape.  After my 20-30 minutes of walking I'm tired.  When confronted with all those bros and all those crazy machines my tiredness says "eh....you can always use the machines some other day." and it turns out my tiredness, when united with my uncomfortables and judgies, is a super persuasive kind of feeling. 

Perhaps one day I'll conquer the weight machines.  Maybe I'll even do it in front of all the bros and conquer that issue too.  I'd like to think I will.  But definitely not today.  Nah, it can wait for another day for sure... 

Prompt 10: The Prompt Was Stupid So I'm Making Up My Own....

...and it is to write my own 30 prompts.  Because these ones have been super ridiculous.  I think that next month I'll try this challenge again, but with these prompts because this way I know they'll be interesting (at least to me)

1. Where did you grow up?  Share some memories...
2. How do you best demonstrate your cooking skillz?  If you literally have zero skillz, then what is your best food-related story?
3. What were your top 3 favorite movies growing up?
4. What is your favorite fairy tale and why?
5. What is your favorite non-big-5 holiday (not Christmas, Halloween, New Year, or Easter) and why?
6. Which literary world would you pick to live in instead of reality, and why?  Remember, you get alllll the parts of your chosen world, good as well as bad.
7. What books are you most looking forward to sharing with your children and why?
8. What superhero do you wish was your best friends with and why?  Also, which version of him or her?
9. What are the bottom five most shameful songs in your collection?
10. What always makes you cry? Song/movie/story/commercial/etc
11. If you were to suddenly develop a mental illness, which is most likely for your personality?
12. If you had to have a mental illness, but you got to pick, which would you pick?
13. What are your top 3-5 favorite jokes?
14. What is your dream career (regardless of its actual existence)?
15. What is one random, non-touristy place you want to visit?
16. What are your top 5 secretly favorite features/abilities/attributes about yourself?
17. Is there anything you wish people knew about you?
18. What is your weirdest food eccentricity?
19. What are your five favorite fantasy wardrobe items?
20. What is your best story?
21. Which Disney film is your favorite and why?
22. What's the best meal you've ever eaten and why?
23. What is one skill you wish you had the time/money/resources to learn?
24. If you could instantly change one single thing about yourself what would it be? How do you feel about that?
25. What are your top 5 biggest pet peeves?
26. Is there anything you secretly love/want that you're afraid to admit because you don't think people will think it is "you"?  (does this even make sense?)
27. Where are your top 3 dream cities to live in and why?
28. You showed up to work with a black eye...how did you get it?  
29. The Doctor shows up.  After the obligatory world-saving, where is the first place you'd go?
30. What are 5 songs you love to belt out in the car?  

Because learning without creation is pointless

I've been trying to write a story for the last couple of weeks.  On a good day I write about 1,000 words.  Prolific I am not.  It's because, surprisingly enough, I find fiction writing to be exhausting in a way that writing here is not.  Writing on my blog is casual--just me spitting out whatever is rattling around in my head.  Writing a story is different--it needs to be "right".  And finding the right words to explain the right actions in the right way leaves me exhausted after just a scene or two.  Which is ok.  Because there isn't actually a time line on anything and if I it takes me till October of 2015 (which is what the NaNoWriMo website is predicting based off my current rate of writing) then...ok.  Why not?

oh, it's actually November of next year...hooray!

But, it also means that today I just wanted to take a break and do some writing that wasn't quite so difficult for me.  Perhaps later I will write another scene in my story.  But for now, it is the mental equivalent of sweatpants and chocolate time for my brain.

Miley...I think you're doing that wrong...

So let's talk about the usefulness of education.  In my last post I mentioned how I'm adjusting to adult, non-married life.  I talked about my recent interest in researching fairy tales and how I questioned whether or not reading arcane academic articles was a better use of my time than perusing facebook and buzzfeed.  I left it open ended, implying I wasn't completely sure about the answer.

Well, inasmuch as I am capable of being completely sure of anything (I'm not), I will say that I am sure.

With qualifications.

Whether it is my Mormonism or just me, I have to say that educating myself, even about the most obscure and useless of topics is an improvement over entertainment-grazing the internet for babies and kittens (which is not to say that there isn't a place for babies and kittens and gif-fests).  If for no other reason than that the latter requires absolutely nothing from your brain.  And if my primary pass-time is something that I can do equally well when I am literally half asleep, there is something wrong with my pass-time.  Hence, I declare obscure research a winner!

But frankly, it's not actually a huge step up to go from facebook to obscure research.  There's a last step missing.  And that is where my qualifications come in.  (guys.....I'm sorry, but I'm having a really hard time focusing on the rest of my post with that gif repeating above me over and over...)

Ok, refocusing.  What I'm talking about is synthesis.  This is a thing that, ideally, you learned about in high school.  If you didn't learn about it in high school then I am praying that you learned about it in college.  But since I've been a college TA, I know that many many people did not, so I will give a quick summary, though I'm pretty confident that none of you, my 12 lovely readers, are these people.  Anneke, if you're reading this, bear with a non-education major as I try to explain this.  There are different levels of learning, each one implying a certain depth of understanding.  Because understanding is not the same thing as knowing.  Think of it....think of it like acting.  Imagine a scale, and on one end you have Antonio Banderas learning his first Holywood part phonetically because he didn't speak English at the time.  He knew his lines, but he didn't understand them.  All he could do was repeat back exactly what he had memorized.  On the other end of the scale you have, um...someone like Robin Williams or Anthony Hopkins.  These are men who know their lines, know their characters, know the story, understand all those things, and using them, they riff and improvise and actually create more than what is in the script.  This is synthesis, and this is what is necessary to make education worthwhile.

hey look! A little picture about exactly my topic!

It is a hard lesson to learn, especially for those students who made it to college without learning it.  So many kids would email me or approach me in class to ask "Why didn't I get an A?  I covered all the study points."  Even setting aside my feelings on grade inflation, the most basic answer is that simply regurgitating a list of facts is not demonstrative of complete education.  It's Antonio Banderas speaking out sounds whose meanings he couldn't comprehend.  To show me that you actually understand what those facts mean you have to synthesize them into something greater than the constituent parts.  Tell me why those facts were significant.  Tell me why we're studying that story.  Tell me anything, as long as it shows that you've not just memorized the information, but actually digested it and comprehended its significance.  Be Anthony Hopkins disappearing into his character so that you forget that he isn't actually a terrifying madman in real life.  Be Robin Williams riffing so much during the making of Aladdin  that they could have made three movies on his material alone.

Which brings us back to research for research's sake.  It's true, pumping my brain full of facts is better than turning it off entirely and tucking it away in a corner.  But better still than that is taking all those facts and doing something with them.  In my case, right now, I am using my research to write my own version of one of my favorite fairy tales (I hope to adapt more in the future).  Sometimes I write quasi-scholarly analyses of stories or movies or books here on my blog.  Maybe I just tell my boss about how strange the stories are.  Whatever I do, about not just fairy tales but any other topic I research, the point is that once I've put the information in my brain I need to work with it.  If I don't, it might as well not be there in the first place, taking up space.  Because not only does synthesizing your knowledge demonstrate a deeper and more thorough understanding of it...it actually creates that understanding.

Synthetic thinking is a..."higher" level of thinking than consumptive.  It takes more work.  In practical terms that means that you just don't really do it without making yourself do it.  And you don't make yourself do it without a reason.  Now that reason may be simply because you enjoy it (that is why I write this blog).  But until I sit down and write a blog post about the importance of College Girl literature I don't actually fully understand that importance.  The bits and pieces of my thoughts are all floating around in my head but I've never taken the time or energy to straighten them all out and organize them and make something of them.  This is actually exactly what is happening when you're talking to someone and you explain something and they get all excited and exclaim "Exactly!  That's exactly what I think, you just put it so much more clearly!"  What they're actually saying is "I had all those bits of idea drifting around in my head, too, but I never sat down and put them all together like you have just done and I can recognize the idea all put together there in your words!"

If only more people understood the principle of synthesis I think the world as a whole would be a much better place.  Synthetic thinking leads to an understanding of and ability to both articulate and support one's own beliefs and ideals rather than a blind defensiveness.  It leads to developments of philosophy and art and science.  And the thing is, everyone is capable of it.  It's not a "smart" vs. "dumb" thing.  If you want to be that reductive you could, I suppose, argue that it is a "disciplined" vs. "indulgent" thing.  But even then, you can't expect someone to discipline their mind in a certain way if they have no understanding of what that way even is.

But maybe I've managed to explain it successfully here.  And maybe someone who didn't quite understand it will read this and then they will  (or maybe not...I'm not so optimistic about my writing/explaining abilities).  And then, just maybe, they will have the discipline to start trying to think this way.  And I suppose that if I can manage to inspire that series of events with my blog for just one person then that will be a good day's work.

Some things I like...

I really like when intersecting sidewalks don't meet at the outermost edge of the corner.  It's something you only see on old streets, typically when the walk itself is narrow, rumpled with 20 years of jostling tree roots, and befriended by grass on both sides.  Somehow, taking those extra two steps into the block before you turn to cross the street feels like a microcosm of nostalgic small-town life.  Back when people had the time and the openness to connect even with the unimportant and the fleeting.  They didn't perch on the extreme-most edge of a sea of impersonal concrete, nearer the passing cars than any human contact or living thing.  Maybe it's a lot to read in to a street corner, but it's what I felt tonight walking home.

and then imagine an intersecting sidewalk equally set in to the block

I like The Lizzie Bennet Diaries.  I could probably even say I'm more than a little obsessed with them just now.   They're brilliant and clever and unbelievably well-made.  You can feel and see and otherwise experience all the effort and care that went into them at every turn.  And they made Pride and Prejudice feel like a fresh, new story, which is no small achievement.  I deeply wish there was someone I could discuss them with in the nauseatingly analytic detail I love so much.

please everyone go experience this project.  Google "the lizzie bennet diaries"

I like brick buildings, particularly homes and schools.  There is a comfortable elegance to brick that is unique.  Brick-built schools typically avoid that prison look of so many schools built out of more contemporary mediums.  Brick houses feel warm and inviting and...settled.  It's a beautiful material.

When I go out walking at night it is usually very late.  I love how quiet the city gets and how many secret details, usually masked by the busyness of daylight, you can discover.  But I also like walking in the early evening.  Unlike late night walking, you still hear the noises of people, but the sounds are calmer, homier, and more personal than daytime sounds.

I like the feeling of solitude surrounded by communal strangers.  To be aloof, sitting alone at a table, while still engaging in the loosest possible network of unknown people who shared your thought to come to this specific place is a very particular kind of experience that is worth having and paying attention to.  Historically, giving one's hospitality and the act of eating together created a bond of peace that was nearly sacred.  I think society retains the slightest vestige of that mentality today in a subconscious kinship with those around us in a public place like a restaurant.  Or perhaps that is just me.

alone at a table somewhere in that group

And finally, I like this sentence:

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition."

I like that sentence more than I can say and maybe more than it deserves, coming from a cheesy horror show on The CW.  However, regardless of its origins and despite having rather a more Protestant flavor than many Mormons are comfortable with, it feels like the most perfect answer that was ever given to the question "Who is God?".  And as a bonus, it is a phenomenally well-crafted sentence; it is in perfect trochaic meter, it has a beautiful and evocative linguistic flow, and the word choice is just unusual enough to catch your attention without crossing the line into pretentiousness and distracting you from the overall impact of the idea.