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.

The Road Untaken and the Talk Not Given - musings on spousal selection

A couple weeks ago I was asked to speak in church.  I went through this process of writing out my whole talk, and then at 9 pm Saturday night I decided I wanted to talk about something else.  I mentioned this whilst I was speaking and a couple of my friends told me they wanted me to post my un-given talk on my blog.  So, here it is, more or less, adapted to secular blog instead of theological oration.

I want to talk to you guys about one of my favorite books.  I've written about it before on this blog, in my list of the five books everyone should read, but specifically every girl should read before she turns 20.  I'm rather proud of the fact that that is in my list of top 10 most popular posts, btw.  Anyway, I'm talking of Little Women.  I would like to assume that, as readers of my blog, you have of course, already read Little Women after I recommended it before, or you have already read it on your own because you have superlative taste.  But if neither of those things are true, I shall give a brief and incredibly inadequate summary for you.  Little Women, published in 1868 by Louisa May Alcott, tells the story of Jo March and her 3 sisters as they transition from young girls to women.  Jo, the penultimate child, is the classic tomboy bucking against the restrictions of gentility and societal expectations.  Early into the story she befriends Teddy Lawrence, the boy next door, and he is quickly adopted into the family as a brother.

Ah, wee baby Christian Bale...you did a pretty good job I guess

At this point I supposed I should warn of upcoming spoilers, but guys....the book has been out for 150+ years, not to mention made into at least one major film.  So I feel like you should probably get over it.

So anyway, Jo and Teddy grow up as best friends, sharing the same sense of humor, the same interests, and enjoying the same activities. And as they get older, Teddy starts trying to lay the ground work to take his relationship with Jo to the next level.

Here's the thing guys.  I just finished this book for the first time in many many years, only this time I listened to it as an audiobook.  I don't know if it was the woman reading the book or just my frame of mind this particular go through but for the first time I found I kind of had a thing for Teddy.  I never appreciated how funny and sassy he is before.  But I realized something else, too.  I've conducted 20-odd years of thorough study on this via film and TV and I can tell you definitively....Jo and Teddy are legit made for each other.  They are the text book definition of chemistry.  At least by modern romantic standards.  Think about it.  Isn't that what ever rom com tells you to look for?

Your perfect match.

I love puns so much

Love, and consequently marriage, is about finding that perfect match.  In practical terms that looks like someone who will validate you.  It's like "You watch the Great British Baking Show? OMG, I, too, watch the Great British Baking Show!!   At last I can stop feeling weird and just watch and love the Great British Baking Show with someone....which is all I really ever wanted."

In contemporary society, where long-term monogamous relationships are approved of at all, they are marketed as the ultimate bff validating relationship.  Your spouse is that person who will always be on your side, who likes what you like, and who reassures you of your place in the world because they occupy it with you......But guys.  Jo doesn't marry Teddy.

Teddy goes off to college and when he comes home he asks Jo to marry him.  He, like me this time through, believes in the idea of a perfect match.  But Jo says no.  She breaks his heart.  She breaks his heart because she understands that there is another way of loving and another way to choose a spouse.

Instead of a perfect match Jo wants a perfect complement.

eheheheheheh

She knows this because it is the marriage she has watched her whole life--that of her parents.  Early on Jo's mother talks to her about her hasty temper, explaining that it will cause her so much grief if she doesn't learn to control it.  Young Jo bemoans how impossible it is to remember and her mother makes a confession.  She, too, struggles to control her temper.  But her greatest strength in her efforts is her husband.  He knows her struggle and when she needs help he gives her a small sign to remind her of what she wants.  .

This was another aspect of the book I'd never really appreciated before.  Essentially it was a portrait of a much less common type of relationship, even back then, but it gave a whole different idea of what a marriage could be.  One person loving the other enough to patiently help them when it was needed, and the other person loving enough to humble themselves and accept that help.  In this sort of marriage the goal is not to comfortably validate you, but gently and lovingly push you towards progression and improvement.  In this marriage two people join together to share the work of becoming the best people they can possibly be.

I don't think it is a coincidence that the modern idea of love is the philosophy of matching and validation.  It is easier.  It asks so much less of us.  A complementary relationship takes work.  It requires humility and love and dedication.  But if you put in that effort you will have a partner who is as invested in helping you attain perfection as they are in achieving it themselves.  Can you imagine any greater or more valuable asset in our progression as individuals?

I do not love these actors as these characters, but what can you do?

Jo does eventually find her compliment in a really lovely gentleman named Professor Baehr.  He possesses the strengths she lacks and she provides for his deficiencies.  They form a partnership that is stronger together than  either of them were on their own.  And almost it is enough to help me overlook the creepiness of a 40+ year old man courting a 22 year old girl.  Almost.

Achievement Unlocked: Life Orientation Obtained!

So...here's a thing.  I have decided that I want to pursue a career in teaching.

I spent 10 minutes writing a big explanatory preamble to that statement because, it turns out, I find it strangely difficult to announce this decision.  I am embarrassed to admit it.  I am embarrassed because after all my existential whining I have settled on what might arguably be the world's most obvious choice.  I'm embarrassed because I don't know if this is an idea that is going to work out and I don't want to publicly fail.  And also I'm embarrassed because this decision comes kind of suddenly and out of nowhere, but I am really really invested in it.

The reason I'm really invested in this idea is because, for the first time, I feel like I have found the way that I can help to make the world a better place.  Every day I see new ways in which the world is utter shit, and traditionally my strategy is simply not to think about it.  Because if I think about it I get aggressively depressed.  I am depressed about how terrible everything is and I am depressed about how helpless I feel to improve it in any way.  But the other day I was chatting with Callie and she was telling me about how much she has enjoyed her unexpected year teaching high school math.  And for the first time pretty much ever in my life I actually considered teaching as a thing that I might do.  And I just kept thinking about it, all that day and the next.  And then one day I suddenly realized I had made the decision.  I wanted to be a teacher.  I had found my way to make the world better.

My entire adult life, and even a few times in high school, I have been asked if I wanted to be a teacher.  I have always answered decidedly no.  I said I didn't want to deal with apathetic students, crazy over-protective parents, and unsupportive administration.  You might be surprised that a college freshman even considers unsupportive administrations, but remember that I went to high school in Union and I was very good friends with several of my teachers.  I was pretty familiar with the idea before I ever graduated.

This, of course, begs the question: why have I suddenly decided that I DO want to deal with all those things?  And the answer is....I haven't, necessarily.  I'm still quite worried that I ultimately won't be able to deal with these things.  But I am comforted with my years of customer service experience.  Years of unsupportive upper management and aggressive and entitled customers have, I think, given me some slight preparation for a teacher's life.  The biggest struggle remains, as it ever has been, the apathy of students, which I think will be the hardest thing for me to deal with.

But I like the idea of trying.  I like the idea that maybe I'll be able to transform one apathetic kid into a crazy voracious reader.  For years I've dreamed of how great it will be when I can share all my favorite books with my kids.  Unfortunately, my own children remain a thing of the unknown future.  But as a teacher I have the opportunity to share those stories with other people's kids, which is almost as good.

And on top of all that, on a personal level, I like that teaching is a way to spend my time that I can feel good about.  I'm not simply passing the time doing an ultimately meaningless task just to earn some money.  The idea of spending my life like that has always bothered me.  Which is ironic, considering my enjoyment of pointless, repetitive tasks.  The qualification, of course, is that even the most repetitive of tasks eventually comes to an end.  But a lifetime of them is too much even for me.  Ultimately I am an intrinsically motivated person.  And without a spouse or children to invest my emotions in, the only other thing left is my work.  To do that I need a job I can care about.

But let's be honest, the appeal of teaching is not just altruistic.  It also has some very real benefits, such as...actual benefits.  At some point Obama is going to force the issue and make me get health insurance and a job that supplies it for me is looking pretty appealing at this point.  And while teachers are not known for their lucrative earning prospects, they do earn more than I do right now (and a heck of a lot more than I will be earning next week, when I will become officially unemployed).  I've never wanted tons of money; I just want enough, and for where I am in my life right now, a teacher's salary is enough for me.  Double plus good is the fact that if you can survive spending 5 years teaching in officially declared underprivileged schools the fed will forgive quite a lot of your student debt.  And then of course there's the schedule.  I would be lying if I said that summer vacation and Christmas break didn't sound pretty great.

If this post sounds like I'm trying to justify myself and my decision, well...I kind of am.  The day I realized that I'd sort of inadvertently made the decision I felt really great about it, but being an anxious person, I very quickly began to worry that I was actually mad.  Not to mention, the more I think about it the more I think of obstacles and difficulties.  One of the major problems is time.  The country may be suffering a dire shortage of teachers, and there may be a myriad of "alternative" routes to teaching certification, but I suspect that neither of those facts will translate into a great job by February, which is when I will abruptly run out of money.  The unbearable reality is that I will pretty certainly have to move out of my beautiful little apartment and back in to a place with roommates.  I have yet to come to terms with that reality and continue to pretend that I'll find some way around it.  Even if I do, I'm still not sure how exactly I'll make ends meat.  My plan is to sign up as a substitute teacher, but here in Provo they don't make a ton of money.  But these are worries for another post.  This post is all about the excitement of finally having a goal, even if I don't really have any idea how I'm going to achieve it.  Knowing where you're going is the first step to getting a handle on your life and for the first time in several years, I feel like I do.

So wish me luck!

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.

TL;DR job-hunting and life-upheaval is stressful

I have been thinking with some guilt on my complete failure at blogging this year.  My general goal is to post at least once a month; this year I have fallen far short of that goal.  Partly I haven't had anything I want badly enough to write about and partly I just spend very little time on my computer anymore (phone and tablet have essentially taken over my internet needs).  But the urge to blog has at last returned to me, as it so often does, because I am having a lot of emotions and I need to vent them.  This is why my blog is so entertaining...

So what is going on?

What is going on is that it turns out I am kind of a major coward.  I do not like change, even when it is a change I have wanted for a very long time.  But, in the words of the immortal Lewis Carol, I shall endeavor to begin and the beginning and when I get to the end, stop.

The first issue that must needs be addressed is money, though I'll try to be quick.  Suffice it to say, I have none.  My finances have been dwindling since the beginning of this year.  I did that thing where I pretended like I was rich and carefree because I started the year not entirely broke.  It didn't take long for me to realize that was a horrible plan, and months later I'm still mentally slapping myself for it, but sadly the damage is done.  Things have been grim ever since, more or less.  My life now is a state of constant white knuckling from one paycheck to the next.

To be sure, I am aware of my good fortune.  I may not have any extra, but I have not yet come up short and I cannot begin to say how grateful I am for that fact.  But knowing that your life is the financial equivalent of that fork and toothpick trick and that the slightest bump will bring everything down around your ears is....wearing.

Perhaps this preceding stress will give me some excuse for my reaction, then, to the news Caleb gave me a few weeks back.

For over a year now Caleb has periodically come down to the basement to have a little chat with me about "the future of the company."  Every time he likes a different plan--release lots of new products one conversation, shift into high-end markets the next.  Then, about five weeks ago he comes to me again.  But this time his plan is to close CH Robotics down entirely.  This has always been listed in the possible options, but never seriously considered till now.  But it is all very vague.  He's going to look into selling, but maybe he'll just sort of go dormant, or maybe he'll officially close up shop.  He isn't sure.

Even though this sounded like another one of Caleb's ephemeral ideas--typically forgotten in a few days--it nonetheless sparked a pretty nasty anxiety attack.  That whole gratitude thing about always coming up flush no matter how close, it only works because I have this magical job that pays me really well.  Suddenly my rainbows and unicorns job has gone from anchor to...what is the opposite of an anchor?  The wind?  Sure, let's go with the wind.  Whimsical and dangerous to rely upon.

I prefer this sort of whimsy.  If you do as well, then might I suggest my whimsical pinterest board
where you shall find many more such whimsical images to make you feel happy

Things have remained in flux since then.  But slowly a picture has pulled together of what is probably going to happen.  Some time ago one of the components on our primary product was going out of stock with our supplier so Caleb bought out their entire stock.  The gyro/accelerometer IC.  This has become Caleb's countdown; as soon as I've used them all up he plans to shut down manufacturing.  At first he projected next spring, then February, and then this week he asked me if I could get them all built by the middle of November.  For those keeping track that means that the deadline of my own joblessness went from March to February to two weeks from now.  Though, I hasten to add that Caleb assured me that he will find things for me to do long enough for me to find a new job.  Bless his heart, he is doing his best to help me as best he can.  His deadline for closing the company entirely after we sell out our inventory is still the end of the year and from what he said I got the feeling he was assuming I'd stay till then as well.  Though I suspect he'll run out of things to keep me busy before then.

The thing is, objectively this really is not a bad situation.  I have been given plenty of warning of what is happening, and my boss is working really hard to help me out in every way he can.  It is a pretty decent bet that I could get another job doing what I've been doing at CH.  And then there's the fact that this is actually a great opportunity.  I have been dying to get out of Utah for years now and, since I finally graduated, the only thing holding me here theoretically has been this job.  Indeed, one could interpret the whole situation as a cosmic kick in the pants to get on with my life.

this is what came up when I googled "cosmic kick in the pants"
and I regret nothing

And yet...

Even though I know all of these things, the fact remains that I am, to use the vulgar expression, scared absolutely shitless about the whole thing.  I am terrified and anxious and perpetually on the verge of freaking out.  Like I said at the beginning, it turns out I'm a massive coward. But I feel like I need to explain why.  Like I need to justify my emotional response even to myself to prove that I'm not just a...a....a cotton-headed ninnymuggins.

First, know that above almost anything else I hate unsureness.  Which isn't a word, but you get the point.  To illustrate just how much I hate it, let me remind you all of the time I withdrew from BYU.  It was 2007 after my study abroad and I was broke.  I spent the summer trying to figure out how I was going to pay for school and taking my first steps down the road of churning anxiety with no outlet.  Ultimately I decided I was going to withdraw for a year and try to earn money.  At the time, if you didn't formally defer by a specific deadline then you were considered withdrawn and would have to reapply to come back.  I made this decision and I immediately felt better--I now had a solid point from which I could navigate further.  I then spent fall semester working, saving no money, and coming to the realization that I had made the wrong decision.  I should have gone back to school.  Nothing made this more clear than the moment BYU called me, a few weeks before winter semester was to begin, to tell me that their enrollment numbers were unexpectedly low so they were opening enrollment to students who had missed the deferral deadline instead of making them re-apply.  Now, I don't know the official numbers, but at the time that felt pretty dang specific to my situation.  Not quite a kick, but certainly a cosmic nudge in the ribs.  But I turned them down.  Because I had already made the decision. I so badly didn't want to have to revisit it, and consequently throw myself back into the marshlands of unsureness, that I consciously chose to continue making the decision that I very definitely knew was the wrong one (which, now I think about it, is possibly why the cosmos have upped their game to pants kicking).  So now apply that to my current situation and maybe you can catch a glimpse of my current unhappiness.  I don't know what is happening with the company and I don't know what is happening with my job and I don't know what is happening with my life and hate all of those thing.  So much.

I give up finding relevant pictures. I'll
 just give you more from my whimsy board

Second.  This one is kind of embarrassing.  As it turns out, I haven't actually had to search for a job in nearly a decade.  And before that I only ever really went through the process twice....eh....once and a half.  My last couple years of high school I worked but whatever...high school jobs aren't exactly critical.  After I graduated I moved to Portland to live with my dad for the summer before college with the vague idea that jobs would be more plentiful in the big city.  I proceeded to spend the entire summer searching fruitlessly until August when I was hired as the BB gun range instructor at a scout camp working 12 hour days for the astounding salary of $75/week.  That is the half.  The once was that same summer after my study abroad.  I was again living in Portland with my dad and I spent a month or two traipsing around Hillsboro handing out resumes (what was even on them??), falling down hills, and eventually getting a job at Target which I would hold for the next four years.  I spent a year in Hillsboro and then transferred down to Orem.  I cannot tell you how much easier it was to move back to Utah knowing that I had a job waiting for me there.  When I eventually left Target it was completely unplanned.  My brother had gotten a job at Vivint recently enough to suggest, in the glow of his employment honeymoon, that I too apply cause then we could work together and how great would that be?!  So I applied on a whim, was called in for a interview a couple days later, and walked out of that interview with a job offer.  Certainly not a change of necessity.  Then, three months later after I realized that the only thing worse than customer support in person is customer support over the phone, I was chatting with Caleb whilst he complained about putting many stickers on many sensors and I joked that he should hire me because putting stickers on things sounded like exactly my kind of work.  And a few weeks later he did just that.  In both cases jobs were basically handed to me.  I feel like I've forgotten how to find jobs, not that I was ever very good at it (BB gun range instructor for $75/week).  All I remember about the process is how ungodly awful it is.  And the couple of hours I spent peeking into the classified corners of the internet today only confirmed that impression.  How do you find jobs to apply for them???

actually...this is totes relevant

Third, and last...moving.  As I said, I've been dreaming of getting out of Utah for years now.  But dreaming of something is a lot different than being faced with the actual reality of it.  I've started thinking of exactly what a move would mean.  I complain about how few friends I have these days, but a few is definitely more than literally zero.  I learned this when I moved into my own apartment.  I told myself before I moved that my roommates were hardly ever home so it probably wouldn't be much different.  Once again, not many is distinctly more than none; rarely home is still more than never home because they don't exist.  If I moved to let's say Pittsburgh or somewhere in Michigan I would truly be alone.  I wouldn't even have acquaintances.  And the friends that I do have hear are dear ones.  I'd be leaving behind Caleb and Kara and Michelle and Taka.  And my brother.  There are all kinds of layers to my feelings about moving away from my brother and only some of them are social.  And as for the rest of my family, no longer would I be a comfortable day's drive away if I wanted to visit.  Add in the hassel of the actual process of moving, something I just went through a few months ago, and would have to translate into the greater trial of moving long distance... Suffice it to say, while I know that I don't want to live in Utah, I am becoming aware that leaving will not be an unequivocally happy decision.

this feels accurate....

So does that explain it?  Do I have a right to my perpetual anxiety and stress?  Do all these reasons add up to legitimacy?  I don't know.  Sometimes I think yes, other times I think I need to get over myself and realize that everything is fine and it will all work out.  Most of the time I am thinking both of those things at once.  But I do feel a little better having written it all out, which is usually the case.  I guess that's a point for Allen, my long lost therapist.  He'd be so proud to hear me say that sharing my stress, even with the vagueness of the internet, makes me feel better.  I do often think of him and wonder if this would all be easier if I could go and tell him all about it.  Who is to say.

But if anyone else has persevered and read through this whole thing, well, I thank you.

Several Peas in my Podcast

This week has been a headlong dive into the world of NPR podcasts.  Previously my engagement with the medium was limited to the occasional Wait Wait Don't Tell Me episode and Serial.  But since Monday they're almost all I have listened to all day at work.  I've listened to all of Invisibilia, and many hours of Radiolab, This American Life, 99% Invisible, and Theoretically Speaking (these last two are technically not NPR podcasts but definitely of the same genus).  I learned about the decline of the American automobile industry, filming on location in LA, infant organ donation (eyes in particular), the international American Visa lottery and consequent process of emigration from Kenya to the US, echolocation and the way it gives literal sight to the blind, the largest animals ever to walk, fly, and swim on earth (the blue whale, btw, is the overall winner of that game and amazingly still exists today), the Mau Mau uprising against British Empire, and the history and importance of the "Freudian couch" to the world of psychology.  These are a few of the things I have learned.  

this, by the way, is the answer to "what is the largest animal to ever fly?"
it is an azhdarchid pterosaur and they were comparable in size to giraffes
and I'm sorry that you won't be able to sleep tonight.

Traditionally I have helped myself pass the time at work with TV shows and movies.  I have been known to blast through entire seasons in one day if circumstances line up right, and I'm ok with this.  Y'all know I love stories.  And I'm sure I'll go back to watching all the different shows I'm working on (Buffy, Blue Bloods, ST:TNG, The Office, Ally McBeal, Boston Legal, Once Upon A Time, Bones, Supernatural, and Criminal Minds, among others) eventually.   

In my initial enthusiasm I tried out several additional programs that I quickly discarded.  I find that what I really enjoy are the shows that pick a specific idea, theme, or item and dig into it.  Though there are only 6 episodes thusfar, Invisibilia has become my favorite.  It focuses on "the invisible forces which influence human behavior".  Every episode was engrossing!

As I've steeped myself in them for the last couple of days, I have discovered that the podcasts I'm listening to are an entirely different experience than my usual TV marathons.  It must be admitted that I view TV passively.  I almost never break a show down and analyze it.  Rarely is my mind sparked by an interesting idea.  On the contrary, my brain has a tendency to simply shut off and I am mindlessly entertained.  In contrast, I have found myself invigorated by the shows I've listened to this week.  

It's a combination of several factors I think.  I have the initial enjoyment of learning something new, often on a topic I'd never have otherwise encountered.  My secondary enjoyment is in thinking further on the ideas I've just learned about--finding my own implications and possibilities not necessarily elaborated on the show.  And lastly, I am rediscovering my own love of information which has been dormant for kind of a long time I'm realizing.  I listen to these shows and I want to make my own.  Pick my own obscure topics to research and report on.  I'm remembering my interest in fairy tales and storytelling mechanics and wondering if I could put together a show about those things.  I'm writing this blog post after two months of blog neglect.

this has nothing to do with anything, but its funny and I couldn't find
a Heart and Brain about going to the gym.

Sometimes I see people on facebook posting statuses about how they've been slacking on their workouts, but they finally got back in the gym, and it feels so great!  I don't think I'm ever going to be one of those people.  Going to the gym will always suck.  But diving into hours of information for the love of information is reminding me that I do love working out my brain. 

And that I've been slacking on that for a while.  

And it feels really really great give my brain a little stretch.

Anne Shirley is my role model

Over the last week I've been rereading the Anne books.  Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, and I've just started Anne of the Island.  In one of the most popular posts on my blog I list 5 books I believe every girl should read before she is 20 (I neglected to elaborate in that post that I actually think every human should read those books even if they've already passed the age of 20 and/or male).  But despite my advice, I realized the other day that I hadn't revisited Anne in years and years.

Returning to Avonlea has been a surprisingly fraught experience.  Of course it has been in many ways delightful.  Anne is very much a Manic Pixie Dream Girl in the very best sense possible (particularly in that she is also a fully developed character) and stepping into her world is  like living the experience of the sad sappy guy in the typical MPDG movie.  You see the world anew through Anne's big, beautiful eyes and you remember how lovely it is.  You feel optimistic not only about the world, but about your potential within it.

And yet, that very optimism became a bit of a double edged sword for me.  This is the first time I have visited Anne, I believe, since before I graduated high school.  The last time I read these words I was not yet 20 myself:

[Miss Stacy] said we couldn't be too careful what habits we formed and what ideals we acquired in our teens, because by the time we were twenty our characters would be developed and the foundation laid for our whole future life.  And she said if the foundation was shaky we could never build anything really worth while on it.

I'm 28 now, and I confess that, though I hadn't put those words to it, essentially I worry if my foundation is shaky.  I struggle a lot these days with a feeling of pragmatic worthlessness.  Which is to say, sure I have the intrinsic value that all humans on this earth share, but beyond that my life adds very little to the world.  And I mean that very literally.  I produce nothing.  I give nothing.  I accomplish nothing from one day to the next.

Reading this beautiful story about a beautiful girl who walks through the world actively trying to enrich it in every way she can has made me sad.  Because at 16 Anne Shirley is more of a woman than I am at nearly twice that age. I grew up reading these books about these great women and I wanted to be one of them too.  But I am so far from being an Anne or a Jo or an Elnora.  It is difficult for me to believe I'm even on the path to become like them.   Honestly I'm not sure I can be, at this point.  So while I have loved visiting Anne and Marilla and reacquainting myself with their wholesome, beautiful outlook on life I find myself feeling...hypocritical and disappointed.

One of my coping strategies in life is to remind myself that I have plenty of time left and if I am not perfect today, I still have tomorrow and many days thereafter to work on it.  And that is true.  But 17 year old Anne is reminding me that time is also precious and once it is past I cannot get it back.  And I am regretting that I have spent 28 years accomplishing so little.