I have in my general acquaintance several men of the thirty to forty age range who are really good guys. They all have a family or are starting one, are great with kids, good at what they do for a living and seem to be very kind and caring human individuals. One of them in particular I love watching interact with his wife because they always seem like they're happy to be together. I look at them and think, "I want that."
I've also been thinking a little bit about the idea of extended adolescence since that's what people seem to be calling the phase of life in which most of my friends and I exist. We're not adults and we're not viewed that way by society. I don't really know how I feel about it, having this opportunity to pursue my dreams without any expectations of a family weighing me down, wondering about how I'm contributing to society while still feeling like I'm living on God's good graces. It's a privileged burden and I feel terrible that I have such choice and freedom in my world. I can do anything but I feel like I pick a job and settle down.
Having had no classes or formal education of any kind in gender studies, it didn't really strike me to think about the different effects extended adolescence has on men versus women, but I found this article about it to be fascinating, true and explanatory. It also gave me a sense of relief. See! There's a complex sociological reason why I'm single!
That was really how I was going to phrase this whole idea that I've been rolling around. It was going to be a vaguely angry fake letter to the guys around me, imploring them to grow up and get some of the characteristics of the good men I see around me so I can find someone and stop spending so much time alone. For a while I felt vindicated by the article. It's not my fault that I'm picky- guys really are different now from my grandparents' generation, from my parents' generation. In the world of college graduates, they're stuck with over-achieving women who don't need them and who are competing for the same jobs for which they're applying. It's different. It means a new understanding of the families we'll have, if we have them at all.
Because I want it all, but not right now. I want a career, though it might take me a while to get to the career stage, and I also want a family. And I want someone beside me the whole time who's figuring out what he's going to do with his life and who's going to be happy bringing other lives into this world with me to ponder their own complex social structures. Really, what I want in my life is one of those men who have their lives figured out, who are starting their families and enjoying the comfortable middle road of their lives after the tumultuous path they took to get there because I want my life to be that settled. Or as settled as life gets, anyway.
Then again, I potentially have several more years to watch Star Wars, make s'mores in my microwave and seriously discuss the merits of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. And apparently there are guys out there who are in the exact same boat. Really, there are worse ways to spend the time it's going to take the world to figure us out.
And as long as the world gives me the chance to bring my kids to the quad to play, it can take its sweet time figuring us out.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Changing
I couldn't find an appropriate place to link to it, but I think you should have a chortle at the premise for this movie entitled Leaves of Grass. Basically, you're welcome. Now, onto my real point(s).
At the beginning of the summer, I bought Leaves of Grass (and Paper Towns and An Abundance of Katherines) in preparation for Europe because through a combination of 31 Jokes for Nerds and the Anglerfish Song, I ended up watching a lot of Vlogbrothers videos in one go and fell in love with John Green's ideas, enough to, you know, go read a book or something. Leaves of Grass was a little bit of an impulse buy- I didn't know it'd be such a big part of Paper Towns, but two of my good friends had mentioned it and I wanted to broaden my horizons, so I picked it up (and besides, Whitman was a solid quote machine). It was a pocket-sized version (if you habitually wear trench coats) and it fit quite easily in the mesh side pocket of my little brother's purple extra camping backpack that wandered around nine countries with me all summer.
It also stayed in that pocket pretty much the whole summer.
I'm not really sure how the conversation got started but I distinctly remember walking up the steps to the train station in Venice in the rain, talking to Christine about how I wanted to read Leaves of Grass and enjoy poetry more and she said, "But isn't that just changing yourself for other people?" And I think I stammered and hand waved and ended up agreeing with her, partially because I didn't have a good counter argument, partially because I think the people in front of us spoke English and were listening to the conversation and partially because I've spent so much of my life changing myself for other people that it's a bit of a foreign concept to change simply because I want to change.
I'm only about halfway through Song of Myself and that's even after some intense attempts at poetry reading while I've been back. I get distracted by the imagery, I get distracted by words, I can't focus for long enough, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I really must have only wanted to change so that people I like will like me more and we'll have more in common, otherwise I would have read the whole poem and have thought deep thoughts about it. I dunno, I'm just not that into poetry and try though I might, I am actually and truly more interested in my particle physics textbook than Walt Whitman. Sometimes I think this earns me judgmental looks from my humanities major friends.
I had a similar problem when considering the things I do. Throughout college, I didn't really go out to bars or to parties, nor did I drink or smoke. I didn't date, much less hook up with anyone. I stayed up late to finish papers and problems sets. I was involved in organizations because that's what I do well- I'm more comfortable in a committee meeting than I am shooting the breeze with friends. It's an unfortunate antisocial fact of my life. In a committee meeting I know who's in charge, I know what's supposed to be happening and I know what the goals are. Social settings are more complex and I'm much more likely to make nerdy jokes or inappropriate puns that lead to awkward silences while everyone around me tries to calculate the exact amount of time they can let pass before starting an entirely different topic of conversation. You've been there. You know what it's like.
But I think everyone expected me to go a little crazy while I was in Europe. I really think that there was an honest expectation of me finding a boy over there or at least coming back with good stories about the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam (apparently it's like the paintings come to life- definitely worth a try, from all accounts). Guys, I saw a bunch of churches. There's not much else besides that.
When I was in Edinburgh, I went to church on Sunday morning. The Fringe Festival was in full swing, so many people were already awake when I was leaving, filling the common room with the smell of tea and coffee. I waved and told everyone where I was going and I got a look from a couple of people at the table. The owner glanced up from her computer and said, "Oh, is it Sunday? I hardly even noticed." And as I was leaving, I thought about reverse judgement. I'm sure no one in that room changed the way they thought about me because of the fact that I went to church, but it's impossible not to imagine their interactions with me changing. Oh, can't talk about this around her. She goes to church. Oh, probably shouldn't mention that to her-it's a bit awkward since she goes to church. Do you think she'll think badly of me if I tell that story? She does go to church.
So lately I've been wanting to go out more. I mean, I don't really have a reason not to- yes, I work, but most mornings I don't have to be in until 9:30 or 10 and that's much better than the 8 AM classes I had the majority of my collegiate career. Yes, I'm tired at night, but I'm not so tired that I couldn't go to a bar and have a few drinks. And yes, my budget is tight, but I just got a credit card (which signaled my initiation into the adult world). I could flirt more, buy clothes that fit me differently (though I've gained back most of the weight I lost carrying around the weight of a small child on my back all summer), make an actual effort with my appearance. I could go out and get some stories and tell them as the true events they'd be. I wouldn't need jokes to fill my time in conversations. Plus, if I do all these things, people will see that I'm not judging them for their actions. Look, I'm doing it too. How can I be judging you if I'm doing it too? Can't you see I'm just like you?
But then, aren't I changing myself for other people?
And I know the youth group, high school, Above the Influence commercial response to this. Just be yourself and that will be enough. You are a wonderful person, you just need to find the other people like you. Don't change what's good about you. Who cares what other people think? It's their problem.
Being an adult, though, is realizing that things are complex, that there's more than one side to every issue and that even though the well-meaning, self-bolstering slogans contain grains of truth, living with people requires compromise. At my core, there's still this kid that really just wants to read her Bible and pray every night until the world's problems are solved. But that kid has a terrible time making conversation.
And I do so want to have conversations.
At the beginning of the summer, I bought Leaves of Grass (and Paper Towns and An Abundance of Katherines) in preparation for Europe because through a combination of 31 Jokes for Nerds and the Anglerfish Song, I ended up watching a lot of Vlogbrothers videos in one go and fell in love with John Green's ideas, enough to, you know, go read a book or something. Leaves of Grass was a little bit of an impulse buy- I didn't know it'd be such a big part of Paper Towns, but two of my good friends had mentioned it and I wanted to broaden my horizons, so I picked it up (and besides, Whitman was a solid quote machine). It was a pocket-sized version (if you habitually wear trench coats) and it fit quite easily in the mesh side pocket of my little brother's purple extra camping backpack that wandered around nine countries with me all summer.
It also stayed in that pocket pretty much the whole summer.
I'm not really sure how the conversation got started but I distinctly remember walking up the steps to the train station in Venice in the rain, talking to Christine about how I wanted to read Leaves of Grass and enjoy poetry more and she said, "But isn't that just changing yourself for other people?" And I think I stammered and hand waved and ended up agreeing with her, partially because I didn't have a good counter argument, partially because I think the people in front of us spoke English and were listening to the conversation and partially because I've spent so much of my life changing myself for other people that it's a bit of a foreign concept to change simply because I want to change.
I'm only about halfway through Song of Myself and that's even after some intense attempts at poetry reading while I've been back. I get distracted by the imagery, I get distracted by words, I can't focus for long enough, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I really must have only wanted to change so that people I like will like me more and we'll have more in common, otherwise I would have read the whole poem and have thought deep thoughts about it. I dunno, I'm just not that into poetry and try though I might, I am actually and truly more interested in my particle physics textbook than Walt Whitman. Sometimes I think this earns me judgmental looks from my humanities major friends.
I had a similar problem when considering the things I do. Throughout college, I didn't really go out to bars or to parties, nor did I drink or smoke. I didn't date, much less hook up with anyone. I stayed up late to finish papers and problems sets. I was involved in organizations because that's what I do well- I'm more comfortable in a committee meeting than I am shooting the breeze with friends. It's an unfortunate antisocial fact of my life. In a committee meeting I know who's in charge, I know what's supposed to be happening and I know what the goals are. Social settings are more complex and I'm much more likely to make nerdy jokes or inappropriate puns that lead to awkward silences while everyone around me tries to calculate the exact amount of time they can let pass before starting an entirely different topic of conversation. You've been there. You know what it's like.
But I think everyone expected me to go a little crazy while I was in Europe. I really think that there was an honest expectation of me finding a boy over there or at least coming back with good stories about the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam (apparently it's like the paintings come to life- definitely worth a try, from all accounts). Guys, I saw a bunch of churches. There's not much else besides that.
When I was in Edinburgh, I went to church on Sunday morning. The Fringe Festival was in full swing, so many people were already awake when I was leaving, filling the common room with the smell of tea and coffee. I waved and told everyone where I was going and I got a look from a couple of people at the table. The owner glanced up from her computer and said, "Oh, is it Sunday? I hardly even noticed." And as I was leaving, I thought about reverse judgement. I'm sure no one in that room changed the way they thought about me because of the fact that I went to church, but it's impossible not to imagine their interactions with me changing. Oh, can't talk about this around her. She goes to church. Oh, probably shouldn't mention that to her-it's a bit awkward since she goes to church. Do you think she'll think badly of me if I tell that story? She does go to church.
So lately I've been wanting to go out more. I mean, I don't really have a reason not to- yes, I work, but most mornings I don't have to be in until 9:30 or 10 and that's much better than the 8 AM classes I had the majority of my collegiate career. Yes, I'm tired at night, but I'm not so tired that I couldn't go to a bar and have a few drinks. And yes, my budget is tight, but I just got a credit card (which signaled my initiation into the adult world). I could flirt more, buy clothes that fit me differently (though I've gained back most of the weight I lost carrying around the weight of a small child on my back all summer), make an actual effort with my appearance. I could go out and get some stories and tell them as the true events they'd be. I wouldn't need jokes to fill my time in conversations. Plus, if I do all these things, people will see that I'm not judging them for their actions. Look, I'm doing it too. How can I be judging you if I'm doing it too? Can't you see I'm just like you?
But then, aren't I changing myself for other people?
And I know the youth group, high school, Above the Influence commercial response to this. Just be yourself and that will be enough. You are a wonderful person, you just need to find the other people like you. Don't change what's good about you. Who cares what other people think? It's their problem.
Being an adult, though, is realizing that things are complex, that there's more than one side to every issue and that even though the well-meaning, self-bolstering slogans contain grains of truth, living with people requires compromise. At my core, there's still this kid that really just wants to read her Bible and pray every night until the world's problems are solved. But that kid has a terrible time making conversation.
And I do so want to have conversations.
Monday, October 3, 2011
October
I love October.
I love the weather, I love the leaves, I love the smell of the air, I love jackets and football and potentially the fair and the feel of the end of the year when we leave the discomforting heat of the summer for the quiet peaceful cold of the autumn and winter.
I love the wind that blows in when October comes. It makes the dark magic of Halloween plausible, it stirs up the mind and makes the heart race as it rips through jackets and steals the comforting warmth of normality, it stirs up the world around us to make us believe in ghosts and fairies and wishes. I love being lost in the memories of far away places where dreaming such dreams doesn't seem so delusional.
October makes me want to write. It makes me want to pull out my quilt and curl up in a chair on my porch, watching the leaves change and fall while my pen races across another page. I could almost stay out there all day and into the night, warming my hands with coffee as ideas pour out of my mind, the paper filled with ghouls that remove my stories far enough from reality to be recognized.
Or I could, you know, sit at my computer all day watching Youtube videos and catching up on TV (I'm halfway through season 6 of How I Met Your Mother! Don't tell me what happens at the beginning of this season!). I could spend my evening hours worrying about when I'm going to get things done and whether I'm doing a good enough job and what I'm going to do next year (next year? next year? I have a job 'til August, let's not rush into things here). I could drag every hour down with the general guilt of laziness and apathy, which is surprisingly easy to do. Or I could just play the one song I know on the piano over and over again while glancing over at my guitar and wondering if I'm ever going to learn to play something on it.
It's a choice we have to make everyday, the choice to live perfectly acceptable lives of normalcy and productivity, or the choice to allow ourselves to live a little of the magic that our minds are capable of imparting to the world in which we live, to smile that sardonic smile at the banal beauty of everyday life and know that behind our eyes, we are seeing something more. And I don't think there's a wrong answer.
I just think there's a normal one.
I love the weather, I love the leaves, I love the smell of the air, I love jackets and football and potentially the fair and the feel of the end of the year when we leave the discomforting heat of the summer for the quiet peaceful cold of the autumn and winter.
I love the wind that blows in when October comes. It makes the dark magic of Halloween plausible, it stirs up the mind and makes the heart race as it rips through jackets and steals the comforting warmth of normality, it stirs up the world around us to make us believe in ghosts and fairies and wishes. I love being lost in the memories of far away places where dreaming such dreams doesn't seem so delusional.
October makes me want to write. It makes me want to pull out my quilt and curl up in a chair on my porch, watching the leaves change and fall while my pen races across another page. I could almost stay out there all day and into the night, warming my hands with coffee as ideas pour out of my mind, the paper filled with ghouls that remove my stories far enough from reality to be recognized.
Or I could, you know, sit at my computer all day watching Youtube videos and catching up on TV (I'm halfway through season 6 of How I Met Your Mother! Don't tell me what happens at the beginning of this season!). I could spend my evening hours worrying about when I'm going to get things done and whether I'm doing a good enough job and what I'm going to do next year (next year? next year? I have a job 'til August, let's not rush into things here). I could drag every hour down with the general guilt of laziness and apathy, which is surprisingly easy to do. Or I could just play the one song I know on the piano over and over again while glancing over at my guitar and wondering if I'm ever going to learn to play something on it.
It's a choice we have to make everyday, the choice to live perfectly acceptable lives of normalcy and productivity, or the choice to allow ourselves to live a little of the magic that our minds are capable of imparting to the world in which we live, to smile that sardonic smile at the banal beauty of everyday life and know that behind our eyes, we are seeing something more. And I don't think there's a wrong answer.
I just think there's a normal one.
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