My Dear Reader,
The year 2013 it at an end! This is the last day of it! Man, what a year this has been.
And really, considering it bears the dreaded thirteen, the year has not been so disastrous as it could have been. I mean, it's been a little disastrous, but fire and brimstone has yet to rain down on us, so I'm pleasantly surprised.
I find that it's the time between Christmas and New Year's that we reflect on the previous twelve months and all that we've accomplished in that time. In January, I made a lot of resolutions, because I had a strong desire to use this year to make myself a better person.
And I didn't accomplish all of them. But my big resolution? Reading 10 Classics is 2013? That beast has been conquered, my friend!
In fact, I might have read thirteen classics in 2013. Depending on what you see as a classic, I mean. Some of them were short. But one of them was Atlas Shrugged, which is probably the longest book I've ever read. And I read fantasy books on occasion.
I am a person who has read Atlas Shrugged. I feel like I earned a title. I feel like I should now be introduced as Cecily, Who Has Actually Read Atlas Shrugged. (That has a nice ring to it.) It wasn't that bad of a book, either. I didn't agree with everything, but I agreed with some things. It's one of those life-changing experiences.
But then, every classic I read is something of a life-changing experience. I think that's why they're classics. Some of them are hard to get through. But I think that there are certain stories that last because they have this special power to change you. There are some books that have changed the world.
And that's what I look for when I'm reading a book. I want to go into someone else's world and see through their eyes, and then come out and see my own world through a new perspective. I want to find truth and meaning. And that's something I found this year.
So, I'm going to do it again next year. I'm going to go for twelve books this time; one for every month. And I will occasionally blog about these books. I'm going to start out with Jane Eyre and Emma, two stories that I have seen multiple times (in movie form), but that I have never read. And like last year, I'm also going to read at least one book that intimidated me because of its length. It's either going to be Anna Karenina or War and Peace. But it might be both. We'll see.
But you know what, Gentle Reader? I'd like to invite you to do it with me. You don't have to read the same books that I read, or the amount of books that I read, but I'd like to challenge you to pick up a classic or two and see what it can teach you. You might find yourself on a grand adventure.
And everyone could use a grand adventure. Or two.
In the mean time, I'll be reading twelve classics in 2014. Wish me luck!
Regards, best wishes, and thrilling tales,
-Cecily Jane, Who Has Actually Read Atlas Shrugged
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Out with the Old, In with the New
My Dear Reader,
As this year is wrapping up, I find myself in the middle of a lot of drastic changes. Changes that are difficult for me to handle, that have put me on an emotional roller coaster. To summarize:
Luckily for me, my grandpa lives two miles away from my office, and he'll take me in for free. He's been on his own since my grandmother died, so it's a win-win situation. And, you know, with the cost of insurance and maintenance, I'm thinking that I'm just going to go without a car for a while. Maybe for a whole year.
And that's kind of scary, too. I'm kind of terrified.
I really like the place where I live. I like the people I live with. I like the people I go to church with. And it feels like the moment my transmission went out, all of the things I love most about life went right a long with it. A lot of the things I've worked really hard for. A lot of my freedom.
But, at the same time, I can't say that I haven't been thinking about leaving. I've known for a while that I've needed a change. I've become less and less satisfied with things, and I didn't really know what those things were. But maybe I've just been here too long. Maybe I've already done everything I've needed to do here. Maybe it's time to do something somewhere else. But there are still so many good things here (and good people) that I don't want to leave.
I really, really don't want to leave. But this is the only choice that makes any sense. I'm lucky that I have any choices at all.
I'm planning on moving by the end of this week. I've got everything set up; I just need to actually do it. And I can't get myself to start packing. I just sit there and look at all my stuff and feel like this is happening so, so fast, and I don't know how I'm going to do it all. I don't know if taking the bus everywhere is going to work out. I don't know what to do with my broken-down car. I don't know if I'm going to like the people I'm going to go to church with. Usually, when I move, I have a lot of time to think about these things. Now, I just have a few days. I feels like I'm taking a big leap in the dark.
It's like I have these two competing sides to me, one of which loves spontaneity and change, and the other that has a hard time letting things go. I keep telling myself that this is good for me, that this is an adventure that I need in order to grow. I keep telling myself that my friends are always going to be here, even if it's a little harder for me to get to them.
And as a person with Clinical Depression™, I have to constantly remind myself that people really do care about me, and that they'll still care about me if I live on the other side of town.
And maybe that's what I'm scared of most of all. Maybe I'm scared that if I leave, no one will care about me anymore.
And there's a logical part of me that knows that it's not true. It knows that I have friends. It makes sense. It sees reality for what it is.
But it's not the part of me that feels. And it's the feeling part of me that is having such a hard time. It's the feeling part of me that is telling me that I'm all alone.
When I made the decision to leave, the feeling part of me expected no one to notice. It thought that I would just fade away, like dust in the wind. It feels like I have faded away along time ago. But the moment I started looking for someone to take my room, I have had an avalanche of attention that I didn't expect. People texting and messaging me at all hours to see if it was true. To see if I needed any help. To see if I will still be around.
And when things like that happen, the thinking and the feeling parts of me get together, and the thinking part says, "See? Don't you see? How can you deny this proof?"
And the feeling part of me says, "I can deny anything I wish, because I am too afraid to open my eyes and see for myself."
I'm still learning how to control the feeling part of me. I'm still learning how to believe that people care about me, because some days, that still seems like an impossible thing. But maybe that's the reason I'm going through all of this. Maybe it's time for me to open my eyes to a new kind of truth. Maybe it's time for me to start believing.
Maybe it's okay to start putting things in boxes.
But maybe I'll wait until tomorrow.
It's going to work out. One way or another, it's going to work out. I'm going to be okay.
It's just going to be hard for the next couple of weeks. But I'm strong. I can handle it.
I can handle anything.
Regards, best wishes, and faith,
-Cecily Jane
As this year is wrapping up, I find myself in the middle of a lot of drastic changes. Changes that are difficult for me to handle, that have put me on an emotional roller coaster. To summarize:
- My car broke down, which it has done three Decembers in a row
- I am sick of my car breaking down
- I can't fix my car, and since the transmission is dead, I'm not going to get any money from it
- I got into debt fixing my car the last two times
- I am sick of being in debt
- I can't get to work without a car, as public transportation is not close enough to where I live
Therefore, the only logical solution is: - I need to move somewhere closer to work and save some money.
Luckily for me, my grandpa lives two miles away from my office, and he'll take me in for free. He's been on his own since my grandmother died, so it's a win-win situation. And, you know, with the cost of insurance and maintenance, I'm thinking that I'm just going to go without a car for a while. Maybe for a whole year.
And that's kind of scary, too. I'm kind of terrified.
I really like the place where I live. I like the people I live with. I like the people I go to church with. And it feels like the moment my transmission went out, all of the things I love most about life went right a long with it. A lot of the things I've worked really hard for. A lot of my freedom.
But, at the same time, I can't say that I haven't been thinking about leaving. I've known for a while that I've needed a change. I've become less and less satisfied with things, and I didn't really know what those things were. But maybe I've just been here too long. Maybe I've already done everything I've needed to do here. Maybe it's time to do something somewhere else. But there are still so many good things here (and good people) that I don't want to leave.
I really, really don't want to leave. But this is the only choice that makes any sense. I'm lucky that I have any choices at all.
I'm planning on moving by the end of this week. I've got everything set up; I just need to actually do it. And I can't get myself to start packing. I just sit there and look at all my stuff and feel like this is happening so, so fast, and I don't know how I'm going to do it all. I don't know if taking the bus everywhere is going to work out. I don't know what to do with my broken-down car. I don't know if I'm going to like the people I'm going to go to church with. Usually, when I move, I have a lot of time to think about these things. Now, I just have a few days. I feels like I'm taking a big leap in the dark.
It's like I have these two competing sides to me, one of which loves spontaneity and change, and the other that has a hard time letting things go. I keep telling myself that this is good for me, that this is an adventure that I need in order to grow. I keep telling myself that my friends are always going to be here, even if it's a little harder for me to get to them.
And as a person with Clinical Depression™, I have to constantly remind myself that people really do care about me, and that they'll still care about me if I live on the other side of town.
And maybe that's what I'm scared of most of all. Maybe I'm scared that if I leave, no one will care about me anymore.
And there's a logical part of me that knows that it's not true. It knows that I have friends. It makes sense. It sees reality for what it is.
But it's not the part of me that feels. And it's the feeling part of me that is having such a hard time. It's the feeling part of me that is telling me that I'm all alone.
When I made the decision to leave, the feeling part of me expected no one to notice. It thought that I would just fade away, like dust in the wind. It feels like I have faded away along time ago. But the moment I started looking for someone to take my room, I have had an avalanche of attention that I didn't expect. People texting and messaging me at all hours to see if it was true. To see if I needed any help. To see if I will still be around.
And when things like that happen, the thinking and the feeling parts of me get together, and the thinking part says, "See? Don't you see? How can you deny this proof?"
And the feeling part of me says, "I can deny anything I wish, because I am too afraid to open my eyes and see for myself."
I'm still learning how to control the feeling part of me. I'm still learning how to believe that people care about me, because some days, that still seems like an impossible thing. But maybe that's the reason I'm going through all of this. Maybe it's time for me to open my eyes to a new kind of truth. Maybe it's time for me to start believing.
Maybe it's okay to start putting things in boxes.
But maybe I'll wait until tomorrow.
It's going to work out. One way or another, it's going to work out. I'm going to be okay.
It's just going to be hard for the next couple of weeks. But I'm strong. I can handle it.
I can handle anything.
Regards, best wishes, and faith,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Group Texting Is THE WORST
My Dear Reader,
Group texting is THE WORST.
Why, you ask?
Because people have no idea how to properly use it.
Group texting, while not inherently evil, is a tool. But it's not like a screwdriver or a crowbar. It's more like a jackhammer. After all, when my phone is on vibrate, they make the same exact sound.
I can't take it any more, my Gentle Reader. I can't take the random texts at 1 AM from unknown numbers responding to a text I received yesterday. No more! The line must be drawn here, no further!
And this week, I'm not going to go into a personal story about how I learned a life lesson. This week, I'm just getting to the point.
Group texting is okay if:
Group texting is not okay if:
Before group texting, ask yourself the following questions:
Do not respond to a group text (or turn your data off before responding) if:
So there you have it, Gentle Reader. A comprehensive guide. Think of all of the awkwardness and accidental oversharing you and I can now prevent. Think of all of the people whose phone number is not dispensed to a random selection of strangers. Think of the people who will actually get to sleep through the night and make it to work on time.
We can use these rules and make this world a far less annoying place.
Regards, best wishes, and the power is yours,
-Cecily Jane
Group texting is THE WORST.
Why, you ask?
Because people have no idea how to properly use it.
Group texting, while not inherently evil, is a tool. But it's not like a screwdriver or a crowbar. It's more like a jackhammer. After all, when my phone is on vibrate, they make the same exact sound.
I can't take it any more, my Gentle Reader. I can't take the random texts at 1 AM from unknown numbers responding to a text I received yesterday. No more! The line must be drawn here, no further!
And this week, I'm not going to go into a personal story about how I learned a life lesson. This week, I'm just getting to the point.
Rules for Group Texting, Or How to Not Annoy Everyone You Know
Group texting is okay if:
- you are initiating a conversation within a small group of people who all have smart phones, unlimited data plans, and already know and like each other
- that's it; there's no other reason to group text
Group texting is not okay if:
- you are sending a large blast of information to everyone in your phone book who might be interested
- you are sending a text that only requires people to respond to you, and not to each other
- there is one or more person in your send list who does not have the phone number of another person or persons on your send list
- there is one or more person in your send list who does not know or does not like another person or persons in your send list
- there is one or more person in your send list who is out of data for the month
- it is before 9 AM or after 9 PM (in each recipient's respective time zone), unless you are certain that everyone on your send list is awake and will be for at least two more hours (if someone on your send list is a slow responder/not constantly glued to their phone, wait at least five hours before you know people will go to bed) (this is a longstanding rule of phone etiquette that you should have learned by third grade)
Before group texting, ask yourself the following questions:
- Can all of the people in my send list fit comfortably around my kitchen table?
- If they were around my kitchen table, would there be a lot of awkward silence and/or would I have to introduce everybody?
- Do all of the people in my send list need to know the responses of every other person in my send list?
- Is everyone in my send list usually awake and available for at least two more hours?
- Can all of the people in my send list use their data to accept my text and its various responses?
Do not respond to a group text (or turn your data off before responding) if:
- you are not sure who the text was sent to
- you can see who it was sent to, and there are numbers you don't recognize
- it is before 9 AM or after 9 PM (in each recipient's respective time zone)
- you wouldn't feel comfortable shouting your response through a megaphone in Times Square
So there you have it, Gentle Reader. A comprehensive guide. Think of all of the awkwardness and accidental oversharing you and I can now prevent. Think of all of the people whose phone number is not dispensed to a random selection of strangers. Think of the people who will actually get to sleep through the night and make it to work on time.
We can use these rules and make this world a far less annoying place.
Regards, best wishes, and the power is yours,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Yelp and the Power of Proactive Positivity
My Dear Reader,
I like saying nice things to people.
And I don't know If you've picked up on this, but I like books a lot. (I've tried to be subtle.)
You know what else I like? Independent book stores. So I'm going to say some nice things about those for a bit.
You have to understand that I'm a capitalist. I don't hate businesses based on their size. The computer I'm writing this post on is made by one of the bigger businesses out there, and I'm so glad that so many people were employed in order to get this computer to me. Truly.
But here's the thing: independent bookstores are better.
The reason is actually very simple. Big bookstores are typically staffed by people who are just there to get a paycheck while they're trying to find something better. Independent bookstores are staffed by people who love the living daylights out of books.
And if you buy books based on its ranking on the New York Times Best Sellers List (not a bad start), you're probably okay in a big store. You're also okay if you already know what you want.
But what if you go into a bookstore looking for an adventure? What if you step through that front door in the hopes of a grand discovery? Who will help you on your quest?
Probably not the kind of kid who just started last week. I mean, maybe, but probably not. And they do have algorithms out there, but I have yet to find one that can match the expertise of a bookstore owner.
Because you don't run your own bookstore unless you know a boatload or two about books. You don't make it your career unless it's your calling.
And that's why I love independent bookstores. Any literary experience so much better when a person of expert passion is involved. I know that I can go through those doors and emerge with something exciting and unexpected. Not to mention that used books tend to be a lot cheaper, and I could read myself out of house and home if I wasn't careful.
So, you can imagine how excited I was to find a new bookstore near my workplace. Like most bookstores, I entered and immediately felt that I belonged. And when I complimented the owner on her establishment, she said something interesting to me:
"You know," she said, "if you look up local bookstores online, we won't show up. Do you think you could give us a review on Yelp.com? Every time we get a review, we become more visible."
And since I occasionally work at a small cafe, I definitely can understand why a Yelp review is so important. When you don't have the cash to hire Sofía Vergara to promote your product, Yelp is pretty much your best option.
But here's the problem about Yelp: people usually only bother to review things when they have something bad to say.
But I'm not like that. As previously stated, I like saying nice things to people.
(By the way, you are doing an awesome job at reading this post.)
And, you know, if we can go online and say nice things about the businesses we love, maybe more people will find them. Maybe our proactive positivity can keep small bookstores around for the next generation of bookworms.
And if you're not into bookstores,we can no longer be friends that's okay. Proactive positivity can apply to diners, record stores, vintage clothing stores, and pretty much any place that you want to keep around.
Because if you have something nice to say, you should say it. Right? Because we all need a little niceness in our lives. We all need the support of others in order to succeed. This is a great, easy way to bring a little goodness into the world.
And especially my world, because if bookstores all vanish and I have to read all of my books on my phone, I might just cry.
Regards, best wishes, and you don't want to see me when I cry as it involves whale noises,
-Cecily Jane
P.S. I have two independent bookstores that I really love: Another Read Through in Portland and Escape Fiction in Salem. I know a lot of you aren't Oregon locals, so go ahead and leave some of your own recommendations in the comments!
I like saying nice things to people.
And I don't know If you've picked up on this, but I like books a lot. (I've tried to be subtle.)
You know what else I like? Independent book stores. So I'm going to say some nice things about those for a bit.
You have to understand that I'm a capitalist. I don't hate businesses based on their size. The computer I'm writing this post on is made by one of the bigger businesses out there, and I'm so glad that so many people were employed in order to get this computer to me. Truly.
But here's the thing: independent bookstores are better.
The reason is actually very simple. Big bookstores are typically staffed by people who are just there to get a paycheck while they're trying to find something better. Independent bookstores are staffed by people who love the living daylights out of books.
And if you buy books based on its ranking on the New York Times Best Sellers List (not a bad start), you're probably okay in a big store. You're also okay if you already know what you want.
But what if you go into a bookstore looking for an adventure? What if you step through that front door in the hopes of a grand discovery? Who will help you on your quest?
Probably not the kind of kid who just started last week. I mean, maybe, but probably not. And they do have algorithms out there, but I have yet to find one that can match the expertise of a bookstore owner.
Because you don't run your own bookstore unless you know a boatload or two about books. You don't make it your career unless it's your calling.
And that's why I love independent bookstores. Any literary experience so much better when a person of expert passion is involved. I know that I can go through those doors and emerge with something exciting and unexpected. Not to mention that used books tend to be a lot cheaper, and I could read myself out of house and home if I wasn't careful.
So, you can imagine how excited I was to find a new bookstore near my workplace. Like most bookstores, I entered and immediately felt that I belonged. And when I complimented the owner on her establishment, she said something interesting to me:
"You know," she said, "if you look up local bookstores online, we won't show up. Do you think you could give us a review on Yelp.com? Every time we get a review, we become more visible."
And since I occasionally work at a small cafe, I definitely can understand why a Yelp review is so important. When you don't have the cash to hire Sofía Vergara to promote your product, Yelp is pretty much your best option.
But here's the problem about Yelp: people usually only bother to review things when they have something bad to say.
But I'm not like that. As previously stated, I like saying nice things to people.
(By the way, you are doing an awesome job at reading this post.)
And, you know, if we can go online and say nice things about the businesses we love, maybe more people will find them. Maybe our proactive positivity can keep small bookstores around for the next generation of bookworms.
And if you're not into bookstores,
Because if you have something nice to say, you should say it. Right? Because we all need a little niceness in our lives. We all need the support of others in order to succeed. This is a great, easy way to bring a little goodness into the world.
And especially my world, because if bookstores all vanish and I have to read all of my books on my phone, I might just cry.
Regards, best wishes, and you don't want to see me when I cry as it involves whale noises,
-Cecily Jane
P.S. I have two independent bookstores that I really love: Another Read Through in Portland and Escape Fiction in Salem. I know a lot of you aren't Oregon locals, so go ahead and leave some of your own recommendations in the comments!
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Let Us Oft Speak Kind Words to Each Other
My Dear Reader,
When I was a girl, a particularly terrifying middle-aged woman from church told me that holding back compliments was a sin. Something about pride and whatnot. At the time, when I was already bombarded with warnings of all kinds of other sins to worry about, this was horrifying. No way the devil was going to take hold of me just because I forgot to tell Judy that her hair looked nice.
No. Way.
I don't know why that idea stuck in my brain, except that the deliverer is someone who used to stalk my nightmares.* But it did. And while I don't know if I ever truly believed that it was a sin, I maintain that withholding compliments is a bad idea.
That's why I have a policy that's like Thumper's rule, but in reverse. Thumper said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all."
I say that if you can say something nice, you should say it.
The reason is simply that people need positive reinforcement. People need to know that the good they bring into the world does not go unnoticed. We need to know that even though life is discouraging, and even though we often fail, every once in a while we manage to do something right. Even if we do that something by accident.
And while we can often see the good that others do, we often can't see how other people struggle. Self-doubt is rampant, toxic, and mostly invisible. We have a grand opportunity to combat this great stumbling block—just by being kind.
It's an opportunity similar to the one that presented itself years ago at Girl's Camp, when a fellow camper sought me out to say that I had done a great job on a routine a group of us had performed. A small gesture, to be sure, unless you consider the fact that I was a stranger entering a tight-knit group of friends, and that I'd spent the whole week feeling like an outcast. That girl has probably forgotten all about what she did, but I will never forget how it felt to realize that I mattered at a time when I felt worthless and forgotten. Never.
And the truth is that you never really know what people are going through. You never really know what pain or fear they are trying to hide. And you never really know how much a kind word can mean to somebody who needs kindness.
And, really we all need kindness.
So why would you want to miss an opportunity to make that kind of an impact?
And sure, it's not an easy habit to form. I can tell you from experience that it is often scary or awkward. Sometimes you'll even find that the compliment is rejected or dismissed. But the times you fall flat are worth the times when you make a difference. As long as you are honest and sincere, you will have those moments. You will even witness miracles.
So if you have something nice to say, why don't you say it?
I'm sure Thumper would approve.
Regards, best wishes, and you are truly the best,
-Cecily Jane
*I had to endure, with alarming frequency, harsh lectures from her that sometimes lasted up to fifteen minutes and often drew a crowd. I survived by employing strategic eye rolling or singing songs in my head. Though I was a little rambunctious at that age (Mormon church is three hours long, and I have never been good at sitting still), I doubt that any kid would deserve that kind of treatment. Luckily, I have the chance to not be like that.
When I was a girl, a particularly terrifying middle-aged woman from church told me that holding back compliments was a sin. Something about pride and whatnot. At the time, when I was already bombarded with warnings of all kinds of other sins to worry about, this was horrifying. No way the devil was going to take hold of me just because I forgot to tell Judy that her hair looked nice.
No. Way.
I don't know why that idea stuck in my brain, except that the deliverer is someone who used to stalk my nightmares.* But it did. And while I don't know if I ever truly believed that it was a sin, I maintain that withholding compliments is a bad idea.
That's why I have a policy that's like Thumper's rule, but in reverse. Thumper said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all."
I say that if you can say something nice, you should say it.
The reason is simply that people need positive reinforcement. People need to know that the good they bring into the world does not go unnoticed. We need to know that even though life is discouraging, and even though we often fail, every once in a while we manage to do something right. Even if we do that something by accident.
And while we can often see the good that others do, we often can't see how other people struggle. Self-doubt is rampant, toxic, and mostly invisible. We have a grand opportunity to combat this great stumbling block—
It's an opportunity similar to the one that presented itself years ago at Girl's Camp, when a fellow camper sought me out to say that I had done a great job on a routine a group of us had performed. A small gesture, to be sure, unless you consider the fact that I was a stranger entering a tight-knit group of friends, and that I'd spent the whole week feeling like an outcast. That girl has probably forgotten all about what she did, but I will never forget how it felt to realize that I mattered at a time when I felt worthless and forgotten. Never.
And the truth is that you never really know what people are going through. You never really know what pain or fear they are trying to hide. And you never really know how much a kind word can mean to somebody who needs kindness.
And, really we all need kindness.
So why would you want to miss an opportunity to make that kind of an impact?
And sure, it's not an easy habit to form. I can tell you from experience that it is often scary or awkward. Sometimes you'll even find that the compliment is rejected or dismissed. But the times you fall flat are worth the times when you make a difference. As long as you are honest and sincere, you will have those moments. You will even witness miracles.
So if you have something nice to say, why don't you say it?
I'm sure Thumper would approve.
Regards, best wishes, and you are truly the best,
-Cecily Jane
*I had to endure, with alarming frequency, harsh lectures from her that sometimes lasted up to fifteen minutes and often drew a crowd. I survived by employing strategic eye rolling or singing songs in my head. Though I was a little rambunctious at that age (Mormon church is three hours long, and I have never been good at sitting still), I doubt that any kid would deserve that kind of treatment. Luckily, I have the chance to not be like that.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain!
One of the great things about reading a children's book as
an adult is the way a tale that merely entertained you years ago can suddenly become
incredibly meaningful. Once you have been taught to look at stories critically,
you start to see things that you never would have found before. Such was the
case when I re-read The Wizard
of Oz.
As familiar as I am with this story, I realized that this
book is all about perception. It seems so obvious that I don’t know how I could
have missed it! We all know that the Wizard of Oz is a fraud, but here are some
things that are either missing from the movie or were emphasized and expanded
in the book:
- The Scarecrow, who claims to be brainless, is the one who finds solutions for the majority of the problems faced on the Yellow Brick Road and beyond.
- The Tin Woodman (AKA the Tin Man), who claims to be heartless, is the most considerate and sensitive of the group, even to the point where he weeps openly and rusts.
- The Cowardly Lion, who does feel socially awkward and anxious, is brave and fearless when his friends need his help.*
- Dorothy, who feels so homesick, is the most centered and at peace with herself. Though she feels powerless, she is actually one of the most powerful people in Oz.
And, most importantly:
- Each one of these characters labeled themselves with these negative traits, usually with little prompting by others.
As a person with Clinical Depression™, this idea of
self-labeling is a familiar one. My chemically-imbalanced brain produces
negative thoughts, and sometimes these thoughts overflow into words that just
kind of gush out. I often say that I can’t do this or I’m bad at that. I’m a
terrible something-or-another-er. And really, when I say these things, I never
think there is any harm. At the time, my words only seem like the unavoidable
truth, and they’re so mild and harmless compared to the loud claxon in my brain
that shrieks “You’re worthless, you’re a
failure, and you ruin everything.” In the moment, I really feel like I’m
being kind to myself in comparison. It’s not until later, when I am in a better
state of mind, that I realize how unfairly I’ve painted myself. Really, I (like
most people) am too complex to fit in one category or another. I try to put
myself in a box, but I don’t really fit. There is a difference between having
depression and being Depression Girl or Chronic Failure or whatever it is I
feel like calling myself at the time. No label I could put on myself would be
truly accurate.
But here’s the thing about The Wizard of Oz: nobody thinks twice
about the labels that these characters give themselves, even after the labels
are proved false. This is brought to a ridiculous and poignant extreme when the
wizard admits point blank that he is a fraud (or a humbug, as he tells it), and
yet the other characters still believe that he can magically solve their
problems. It goes something like this:
Wizard: I’m a great wizard!
Dorothy, Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Awesome! You can solve
ALL OF OUR PROBLEMS.
Wizard: Well, actually, I’m a big phony. All I’m really good
at is special effects and showmanship. Besides, you guys all seem fine to me.
Except Dorothy over there. Sorry, Dorothy.
Dorothy: I am greatly disappointed.
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Hey, we still have all of these
problems! Solve them, please.
Wizard: But I can’t.
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: But you’re the wizard.
Wizard: But I’m not a wizard.
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Yes, you are. You told us so
yourself.
Wizard: But then I explained to you that it was all a lie.
In great detail.
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: But we still have these problems
AND YOU’RE A WIZARD.
Wizard: No, I’m not!
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Yes, you are!
Wizard: No I’m not!
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Yes, you are!
Wizard: I never got my Hogwarts letter!
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Solve our problems!
Wizard: But I . . .
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: Wiz-ard! Wiz-ard! Wiz-ard!
Wizard: Okay, fine. Using my skills of special effects and
showmanship, I will pretend to solve
your problems just so you will leave me alone:
Wizard: [Uses skills of special effects and showmanship. Pretends
to solve everybody’s problems.]
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: It’s a miracle! We’re saved!
Wizard: You’re the same, except for the addition of mostly
worthless props.
Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion: You’re the best wizard in all the
land!
Wizard: Sigh.
The point here is something I have learned again and again
in life: when you tell someone something about yourself, they generally believe
it without question. Especially if you tell them something negative. And if you
happen to misrepresent yourself, or if you change, you will have a heck of a
time trying to get people to see and treat you differently. People’s
perceptions have this annoying habit of sticking into people’s brains forever.
In my experience, some people won’t even change their mind
after a decade and a mountain of proof. A decade.
I was teenager,
people.
Ahem.
So when it comes to presenting yourself to others, it’s
important to use good marketing. And when it comes to others, it’s important to
remember to base your judgments on actual observations, not just what people
tell you. Not even what people tell you about themselves.
Because we are all pretty hard on ourselves. And we all have
this tendency to think that our problems and failures are worse than everybody
else’s. But none of us fail all the time. None of us fit in a box.
And, like Dorothy, none of us know the extent of our true
power and influence.
See? Look at that. All that truth from a children’s book.
Who’da thunk?
Regards, best wishes, and self-compassion,
-Cecily Jane
*Unlike the movie, the “Cowardly” Lion does not run away when
they fight the Wicked Witch. Instead, when she captures him and tries to turn him
into a pack animal, he bravely refuses. He also jumps over large chasms and
stuff. Really, of all the characters, the movie does him the greatest
injustice.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Short Story: "Dreams"
My Dear Reader,
It's been a while since I've posted fiction on here, so here's a little something for you.
It's been a while since I've posted fiction on here, so here's a little something for you.
"Dreams"
By
Cecily Jane
And that is when I realize that they
don't love me.
Maybe they never have. Maybe what they
love is this life they've made, complete with a house, two cars, and
a respectable amount of children. They love their American Dream, and
I'm only a part of it. An appendage to it.
I am an expendable part of their life.
That's why they're doing this. No one
who loved me would do this. No one who loved me would make me put
these chemicals inside me. No one who loved me would let these pills
play with my brain and diminish me. They look at me, and they see
only the darkness. They do not see the loneliness that feeds it. They
do not see the child behind it. They only see a dark spot on their
perfect life, and they want to bleach it out of existence. Never mind
that I will be corroded, along with my pain. Never mind that I will
fade into nothing. In their eyes, it will be a pleasant nothing. An
empty shell that will smile vaguely on command and look good in
pictures. That's all they want. They have no use for me.
I am a torrent of raging emotions. I am
lost in the storm. I am reaching out to for something to hold onto,
but they don't reach back. They just glare at me in disapproval.
And so they send me away to the cold
professionals who will scoop out my insides.
This can't be love.
Love is what I hold onto, even if I've
never seen it. Even if it's only a hope in my heart. If they love me
then I have nothing left.
They can't love me.
They can't.
**************
We just don't know our baby
anymore.
Neither of us know when it
all started to change. There used to be laughter in our house. We
took it for granted back then.
If only we could go back to
how it used to be.
We are doing the best that
we can. It's not enough to simply say that we are struggling. Each
member of our family has problems, and with each passing day, those
problems get harder to solve. This is not a band aid over a skinned
knee. This is our last chance to bring our child back before we reach
the point of no return. That's why we rely on those who know how to
fix these problems. We put our baby in their hands in the hopes that
we will have a future. It's a little scary when the bills come, and
sometimes we're not sure where the money is going to come from. But
they tell us that it's helping. They tell us that if we just pull
through, there is a chance. So we do.
We are overwhelmed and
exhausted. But it's not hard to see where this behavior will lead.
We've read the articles. We go to seminars during lunch hour, holding
hands as we are confronted yet again with symptoms and statistics.
The future we have been shown is frightening.
We have to trust the people
who understand what is happening to our child.
This is a problem we have to
solve.
We do all of this so that
one day, we can hear that laughter again. That's the hope we hold
onto, even if it seems we may never hear it again. Our baby is
everything.
We can't lose our baby.
We can't.
Regards, best wishes, and understanding,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Prayers, Phones, and Self-limitations
My Dear Reader,
As a lifelong Mormon, I have often been encouraged to seek for spiritual guidance on a daily basis, in even the most trivial matters. These spiritual experiences are the foundation of our faith, and we build it scripture by scripture, prayer by prayer.
Even for the little stuff.
Stuff that isn't necessarily in the spiritual category. Stuff, for example, like when things go missing. Even then, I have always been encouraged to get on my knees and pray about it. God knows everything, right? So He knows where I left my keys, or my wallet, or that thing I was supposed to bring to the party. And as Mormons, this is something that we regularly do. And I know so many people who have asked this seemingly trivial question in prayer and have received genuine spiritual guidance that led them to find what they were looking for.
But it never happened to me.
And you might think that it's not really a big deal. And it isn't until it's the end of the school year and you have to either return your graphing calculator to your calculus teacher or forfeit one hundred dollars of your hard-earned college fund.
And when you're running out of time, and you've turned everything in your house upside down trying to find it, and you're crying tears of frustration and failure because one hundred dollars is so much money when you earned it working minimum wage and you were so careful to save it, this becomes a pretty big deal to you.
And, yet, I didn't get my answer. Or any answer, really. Let me tell you, I was not happy to write that check.
But, you know, I told myself to get over it. It didn't break the bank or anything, and once high school was over and I moved on to greater things, I realized that it didn't matter much. Losing one graphing calculator, in the grand scheme of things, was such a small thing, right? Talk about your teenage drama.
And it's not like I didn't have more than my fair share of spiritual experiences. I received answers on all kinds of other things. Big, important things that shaped my life. Experiences so powerful that I could never doubt that they were real, even today. So it didn't effect my faith in God or my dedication to my church, or anything like that.
But it planted a seed in my brain that started to change my opinion about myself.
And I started to think that I was incapable of receiving answers to certain kinds of prayers.
And if that sounds silly to you, you do not understand how many times I prayed for help finding something, full of faith, and got nothing.
Not to mention the doctrine found in D&C 46:11-12 that offered a reasonable explanation to what was happening to me. God gives people certain gifts, and that was just one that I didn't have. No worries, right? I mean, I don't sit around worrying that I don't have the skills to be an Olympic gymnast. Why should I care if I can't do this?
But I probably should have cared, because I stopped trying. I assumed that I was limited, and that there were some things that I just couldn't talk to God about.
And maybe there was a part of me that thought that I was limited because I just wasn't good enough.
I have so many opportunities to feel inadequate, and you know, I tend to take advantage of them.
But one day, after I graduated college and was in desperate need of a job, I lost my phone. Which, at the time, would not have been a great concern to me except I was waiting to hear back from possible employers. This time, I was in a situation where if I didn't find it, I would break the bank.
I looked everywhere for that phone. Everywhere. I had other people pitch in to help me, and I even asked for them to pray to find it. Because that seemed a lot more productive than praying myself.
After two weeks, things were looking pretty bad. Imagine if you were expecting an important phone call and you had to go without your phone for two whole weeks. I almost tore my hair out.
I got desperate enough, in fact, to pray about it. And man, did I pray with feeling on this one. I'm pretty sure I prayed myself to sleep.
One thing I remember very clearly is that I woke up with this unshakeable compulsion to look under things. I just had to do it, just like I would have to take a drink of water if I was dying of thirst in the desert. I could not stop until I had looked under everything in the house. Could. Not. Stop.
I don't have OCD, so I'm not used to compulsions of that magnitude. There was nothing in the world to me except what I needed to do at that moment. And I kind of felt a little crazy, but I also felt this really amazing spiritual connection that told me where this urge was coming from.
And in just a few minutes, that phone was good and found.
Is that one of the lamest spiritual experiences of all time? Possibly. I won't rule it out.
But it's probably one of the most poignant moments of my whole life, because I had found something a lot more important than my phone. I found a piece of myself that I feared could never exist.
And I think that we are all aware, to some point at least, how much other people try to limit us. There's the bully who said that we were stupid. The coach who cut us off the team. The well-meaning friend who told us to move on long before it was time.
But how often do we become aware of the ways in which we limit ourselves?
Do the names we have been called on the playground or in the office really matter as much as the names we call ourselves?
And how many times do we let a small seed get planted in our brain, like a mold spore that multiplies and grows until it causes the decay of our own self worth?
I've been thinking a lot lately about the things that I think I can't do, that I have no hope of ever being good at. Is it really a fair judgement of myself? Or am I letting myself be limited by the pain of the past and the fear of the future?
Because God can do all things. All things. And I am His daughter.
Doesn't it follow that if I continue to endeavor to be like God, at some point, I will be able to do all things?
And I'm starting to think that prayer is about more than just building our faith. I'm starting to think that through prayer, we are building ourselves. With every spiritual experience, we are not just learning what we need to do; we are getting a glimpse into who we really are.
And this is something I really wonder about: when God makes the acorn, He knows that it will grow into the great oak. So when God made me, what did He intend me to become? How great can I grow?
And, yes, in the great scheme of things, maybe finding my phone really isn't such a big deal. But that part of myself I found? Well, I never intend to let that go.
Regards, best wishes, and shattered boundaries,
-Cecily Jane
As a lifelong Mormon, I have often been encouraged to seek for spiritual guidance on a daily basis, in even the most trivial matters. These spiritual experiences are the foundation of our faith, and we build it scripture by scripture, prayer by prayer.
Even for the little stuff.
Stuff that isn't necessarily in the spiritual category. Stuff, for example, like when things go missing. Even then, I have always been encouraged to get on my knees and pray about it. God knows everything, right? So He knows where I left my keys, or my wallet, or that thing I was supposed to bring to the party. And as Mormons, this is something that we regularly do. And I know so many people who have asked this seemingly trivial question in prayer and have received genuine spiritual guidance that led them to find what they were looking for.
But it never happened to me.
And you might think that it's not really a big deal. And it isn't until it's the end of the school year and you have to either return your graphing calculator to your calculus teacher or forfeit one hundred dollars of your hard-earned college fund.
And when you're running out of time, and you've turned everything in your house upside down trying to find it, and you're crying tears of frustration and failure because one hundred dollars is so much money when you earned it working minimum wage and you were so careful to save it, this becomes a pretty big deal to you.
And, yet, I didn't get my answer. Or any answer, really. Let me tell you, I was not happy to write that check.
But, you know, I told myself to get over it. It didn't break the bank or anything, and once high school was over and I moved on to greater things, I realized that it didn't matter much. Losing one graphing calculator, in the grand scheme of things, was such a small thing, right? Talk about your teenage drama.
And it's not like I didn't have more than my fair share of spiritual experiences. I received answers on all kinds of other things. Big, important things that shaped my life. Experiences so powerful that I could never doubt that they were real, even today. So it didn't effect my faith in God or my dedication to my church, or anything like that.
But it planted a seed in my brain that started to change my opinion about myself.
And I started to think that I was incapable of receiving answers to certain kinds of prayers.
And if that sounds silly to you, you do not understand how many times I prayed for help finding something, full of faith, and got nothing.
Not to mention the doctrine found in D&C 46:11-12 that offered a reasonable explanation to what was happening to me. God gives people certain gifts, and that was just one that I didn't have. No worries, right? I mean, I don't sit around worrying that I don't have the skills to be an Olympic gymnast. Why should I care if I can't do this?
But I probably should have cared, because I stopped trying. I assumed that I was limited, and that there were some things that I just couldn't talk to God about.
And maybe there was a part of me that thought that I was limited because I just wasn't good enough.
I have so many opportunities to feel inadequate, and you know, I tend to take advantage of them.
But one day, after I graduated college and was in desperate need of a job, I lost my phone. Which, at the time, would not have been a great concern to me except I was waiting to hear back from possible employers. This time, I was in a situation where if I didn't find it, I would break the bank.
I looked everywhere for that phone. Everywhere. I had other people pitch in to help me, and I even asked for them to pray to find it. Because that seemed a lot more productive than praying myself.
After two weeks, things were looking pretty bad. Imagine if you were expecting an important phone call and you had to go without your phone for two whole weeks. I almost tore my hair out.
I got desperate enough, in fact, to pray about it. And man, did I pray with feeling on this one. I'm pretty sure I prayed myself to sleep.
One thing I remember very clearly is that I woke up with this unshakeable compulsion to look under things. I just had to do it, just like I would have to take a drink of water if I was dying of thirst in the desert. I could not stop until I had looked under everything in the house. Could. Not. Stop.
I don't have OCD, so I'm not used to compulsions of that magnitude. There was nothing in the world to me except what I needed to do at that moment. And I kind of felt a little crazy, but I also felt this really amazing spiritual connection that told me where this urge was coming from.
And in just a few minutes, that phone was good and found.
Is that one of the lamest spiritual experiences of all time? Possibly. I won't rule it out.
But it's probably one of the most poignant moments of my whole life, because I had found something a lot more important than my phone. I found a piece of myself that I feared could never exist.
And I think that we are all aware, to some point at least, how much other people try to limit us. There's the bully who said that we were stupid. The coach who cut us off the team. The well-meaning friend who told us to move on long before it was time.
But how often do we become aware of the ways in which we limit ourselves?
Do the names we have been called on the playground or in the office really matter as much as the names we call ourselves?
And how many times do we let a small seed get planted in our brain, like a mold spore that multiplies and grows until it causes the decay of our own self worth?
I've been thinking a lot lately about the things that I think I can't do, that I have no hope of ever being good at. Is it really a fair judgement of myself? Or am I letting myself be limited by the pain of the past and the fear of the future?
Because God can do all things. All things. And I am His daughter.
Doesn't it follow that if I continue to endeavor to be like God, at some point, I will be able to do all things?
And I'm starting to think that prayer is about more than just building our faith. I'm starting to think that through prayer, we are building ourselves. With every spiritual experience, we are not just learning what we need to do; we are getting a glimpse into who we really are.
And this is something I really wonder about: when God makes the acorn, He knows that it will grow into the great oak. So when God made me, what did He intend me to become? How great can I grow?
And, yes, in the great scheme of things, maybe finding my phone really isn't such a big deal. But that part of myself I found? Well, I never intend to let that go.
Regards, best wishes, and shattered boundaries,
-Cecily Jane
Thursday, April 25, 2013
This Is the Friend Zone
My Dear Reader,
Lately, I've been hearing the idea of the friend zone and how that term can be misunderstood and used for unfair purposes.
The argument is that the term is manipulative. If you say that you have unrequited love, for example, the implication is that you've had some bad luck. They don't love you back, and that it a sad story, my friend. That's just life, you know? Let me give you a hug and some hot chocolate.
But if you tell me that you've been friend zoned, you're not just saying that your feelings are not returned. There is an accusation hidden in your words, asserting that you have somehow been abused. The object of your affection has inexplicably become the bad guy. How dare they! Don't they know who you are? Something must be seriously wrong with them. Let's sit here and say mean things about them while they don't have the opportunity to respond.
I personally don't often use the term to describe my own relationships. I generally feel like it only applies when the guy is really laying it on thick long after I've gotten the message. If I say you've friend zoned me, I mean that I complimented your tie and you replied by telling me how you reeeeeeally looooove your girlfriend, nudge nudge wink wink slap in the face. Then I usually laugh about it and move on, because really, I don't care. If I was attracted to you, I certainly am not any more.
Not that guys don't reject me on a daily/hourly basis. They apparently find me repulsive or something. It's just that I don't feel that I have a right to demonize someone based on whether they like me or not. When it comes to dating, I have two rules:*
Rule #1
Rule #2
In extreme cases, it can even lead to rape. Don't you roll your eyes at me. Most women are raped by men that they know.** A man who respects a woman's right to refusal would just leave her alone instead of taking what he wants by force through scarring physical and psychological violence.
Because it all boils down to this: when any person believes that they have the right to tell another person how to feel or act towards them, they have denied that person their God-given agency. That's extremely objectifying, and objectifying anyone is wrong. People deserve better than that. They have a right to lead their own lives, even if you don't like their choices.
And yeah, it sucks to have unrequited feelings. It really, really sucks. But, you know, try not to take it personally. Attraction is hard to explain and even harder to control. It's possible that they don't have a conscious reason, and that is allowed. Just think of all of the people that you've found unattractive for a reason you can't name. It happens.
It's also possible that they do have a reason, and that it's a valid one. But that's a post for another day.
Either way, it's really important to be respectful of others' feelings, whether you like them or not.
And let me be clear: if you don't respect other people's feelings, you are not allowed to label yourself as a nice guy or a nice girl. If you think people are obligated to be attracted to you, you are at best a gigantic jerk.
Actually, I have stronger words for you, but I choose not to use them at this time.
Do you know what nice guys/girls do when they discover that their feelings are unrequited? They often feel sad. They might even go home and treat themselves to some ice cream and a comforting movie. But what they most certainly do is back off. They will either move on or try to present themselves in a different way. But they will undoubtedly respect the right of refusal.
Because if you really care about someone, their happiness is more important than what you want.
And, you know, if you really are a catch, then someone else will realize it. Don't waste your time grumbling! Go out and find that person!
All in all, I really hope that you can find the one who's right for you. Someone who will requite your love and treat you well. Just remember that genuine respect for others is a super attractive quality, wink wink.
Regards, best wishes, and lots of love,
-Cecily Jane
*Those aren't my only dating rules; they're just the only ones that happen to be relevant.
** Source: U.S. Department of Justice. 2005 National Crime Victimization Study. 2005.***
***I would say that this applies to both men and women, but men are exclusively raped by strangers. But I'm not singling out men as evil here; women can be extremely cruel when rejected.
Lately, I've been hearing the idea of the friend zone and how that term can be misunderstood and used for unfair purposes.
The argument is that the term is manipulative. If you say that you have unrequited love, for example, the implication is that you've had some bad luck. They don't love you back, and that it a sad story, my friend. That's just life, you know? Let me give you a hug and some hot chocolate.
But if you tell me that you've been friend zoned, you're not just saying that your feelings are not returned. There is an accusation hidden in your words, asserting that you have somehow been abused. The object of your affection has inexplicably become the bad guy. How dare they! Don't they know who you are? Something must be seriously wrong with them. Let's sit here and say mean things about them while they don't have the opportunity to respond.
I personally don't often use the term to describe my own relationships. I generally feel like it only applies when the guy is really laying it on thick long after I've gotten the message. If I say you've friend zoned me, I mean that I complimented your tie and you replied by telling me how you reeeeeeally looooove your girlfriend, nudge nudge wink wink slap in the face. Then I usually laugh about it and move on, because really, I don't care. If I was attracted to you, I certainly am not any more.
Not that guys don't reject me on a daily/hourly basis. They apparently find me repulsive or something. It's just that I don't feel that I have a right to demonize someone based on whether they like me or not. When it comes to dating, I have two rules:*
Rule #1
- No one is obligated to be attracted to me.
Rule #2
- No one should have to explain why they're not attracted to me, because they don't need a reason to find me unattractive.
In extreme cases, it can even lead to rape. Don't you roll your eyes at me. Most women are raped by men that they know.** A man who respects a woman's right to refusal would just leave her alone instead of taking what he wants by force through scarring physical and psychological violence.
Because it all boils down to this: when any person believes that they have the right to tell another person how to feel or act towards them, they have denied that person their God-given agency. That's extremely objectifying, and objectifying anyone is wrong. People deserve better than that. They have a right to lead their own lives, even if you don't like their choices.
And yeah, it sucks to have unrequited feelings. It really, really sucks. But, you know, try not to take it personally. Attraction is hard to explain and even harder to control. It's possible that they don't have a conscious reason, and that is allowed. Just think of all of the people that you've found unattractive for a reason you can't name. It happens.
It's also possible that they do have a reason, and that it's a valid one. But that's a post for another day.
Either way, it's really important to be respectful of others' feelings, whether you like them or not.
And let me be clear: if you don't respect other people's feelings, you are not allowed to label yourself as a nice guy or a nice girl. If you think people are obligated to be attracted to you, you are at best a gigantic jerk.
Actually, I have stronger words for you, but I choose not to use them at this time.
Do you know what nice guys/girls do when they discover that their feelings are unrequited? They often feel sad. They might even go home and treat themselves to some ice cream and a comforting movie. But what they most certainly do is back off. They will either move on or try to present themselves in a different way. But they will undoubtedly respect the right of refusal.
Because if you really care about someone, their happiness is more important than what you want.
And, you know, if you really are a catch, then someone else will realize it. Don't waste your time grumbling! Go out and find that person!
All in all, I really hope that you can find the one who's right for you. Someone who will requite your love and treat you well. Just remember that genuine respect for others is a super attractive quality, wink wink.
Regards, best wishes, and lots of love,
-Cecily Jane
*Those aren't my only dating rules; they're just the only ones that happen to be relevant.
** Source: U.S. Department of Justice. 2005 National Crime Victimization Study. 2005.***
***I would say that this applies to both men and women, but men are exclusively raped by strangers. But I'm not singling out men as evil here; women can be extremely cruel when rejected.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Holden Caulfield and Banning Books
My Dear Reader,
As I mentioned previously, one of the books I read for my Ten Classics in 2013 challenge was Catcher in the Rye. Since it's one of the most banned books of all time, and since I read it right after reading Fahrenheit 451, I've been thinking a lot about censorship and age-appropriate material.
Really, I can see both sides of this issue.
On one side, you have the obvious truth that children react badly when exposed to things too young. Sometimes, it can be really traumatizing. When I was seven, one of my friend's parents let us watch Chucky, and let me tell you, I had nightmares for years. To this day, coming across a screenshot gives me shivers.
There's also the truth that children are constantly mimicking the behavior of whoever or whatever happens to be around them. That's the only thing that explains the explosion of over-dramatic, ineffective attempts at violence that exploded in my neighborhood after Power Rangers became popular.
So with those concerns in mind, a book like Catcher in the Rye can be pretty threatening. Holden Caulfield, the "protagonist," has little regard for rules. Though underage, he drinks and smokes. He is sent to private school after private school because he doesn't take his academic responsibilities seriously. Actually, he doesn't take any responsibilities seriously. And when he knows that he is going to get kicked out of yet another school, he skips town rather than deal with any negative consequences of his own failure. Really, Holden isn't much of a role model. And since he spends most of the book doing the exact things that parents tend to forbid their kids from doing, along with the brief instances of foul language and other controversial items, I can see why a lot of parents don't like it.
But, on the other hand, there is a reason why Catcher in the Rye is a classic.
This reason is not immediately apparent. For the first three quarters of the book, I was both bored and annoyed at Holden, because Holden is a loser. He sucks at pretty much everything, and to make it worse, he also complains about everything. I'm not even sure that he tries. Halfway through the book, I almost stopped reading because I was sick of waiting for something to happen. Spoiler alert: nothing does, really. This book is basically a few days in the odd life of a high school dropout.
But I'm really glad that I stuck with it, because in the last quarter of the book, things start to make sense. You start to see that Holden is not meant to be some kind of hero, as much as he wants to be. The story of Holden is a story of a broken kid, trapped between childhood and adulthood, who does not know how to find his place in the world. Of course I wanted to give up on Holden. Holden has given up on himself long before the novel began. Holden's life is one of profound disappointment in both himself and those around him.
And, you know, there is probably more than one teenager who can relate to that.
Catcher in the Rye is a classic because, like many classics, it expertly captures a piece of truth that resonates. Granted, that truth is not always pretty, but it's real. And sometimes I think that this is the whole reason that we read books. We read in order to get out of our own heads and see if we can find a part of ourselves in someone else's. And as much as I want to roll my eyes at Holden Caulfield, I have to admit that he is very real. While I've never done pretty much anything he does in the book, I can relate to him on a pretty profound level. At some point or another, it's possible that we are Holden Caulfield.
Yes, Holden does some bad things. Leaving school and holing up in some skeevy hotel in the city in order to annoy everyone around him is probably not the best idea. But Holden's bad choices lead him to bad consequences. No one can read this book and come away with the idea that smoking, drinking, and complaining paves the road to happiness.
And just as Holden is confused as to whether he is a child or an adult, it's hard to tell when a kid is adult enough to handle the kind of truth that is presented in Catcher in the Rye. There is a real danger in letting your kid grow up too fast or too slowly. On one extreme, you've got eight-year-old kings, and on the other, you've got thirty-five-year-old basement dwellers. Most parents are shooting for the center of that spectrum.
How do you get to the center? I have no idea.
But realistically speaking, while Catcher in the Rye does have some undesirable content, it's a whole lot cleaner than a lot of the literature out there, which will be required reading in college. Even in one of the most conservative schools in the country, like the one I attended. When kids finish high school, they are expected to magically become adults. Maybe tagging along on Holden's journey will help them get there.
Either way, Catcher in the Rye is an excellent book. The best way to figure out if it's appropriate is to read it for yourself and make your own conclusions. Just make sure you make it all the way to the end.
Regards, best wishes, and I'm not telling you how to raise your kids,
-Cecily Jane
As I mentioned previously, one of the books I read for my Ten Classics in 2013 challenge was Catcher in the Rye. Since it's one of the most banned books of all time, and since I read it right after reading Fahrenheit 451, I've been thinking a lot about censorship and age-appropriate material.
Really, I can see both sides of this issue.
On one side, you have the obvious truth that children react badly when exposed to things too young. Sometimes, it can be really traumatizing. When I was seven, one of my friend's parents let us watch Chucky, and let me tell you, I had nightmares for years. To this day, coming across a screenshot gives me shivers.
There's also the truth that children are constantly mimicking the behavior of whoever or whatever happens to be around them. That's the only thing that explains the explosion of over-dramatic, ineffective attempts at violence that exploded in my neighborhood after Power Rangers became popular.
So with those concerns in mind, a book like Catcher in the Rye can be pretty threatening. Holden Caulfield, the "protagonist," has little regard for rules. Though underage, he drinks and smokes. He is sent to private school after private school because he doesn't take his academic responsibilities seriously. Actually, he doesn't take any responsibilities seriously. And when he knows that he is going to get kicked out of yet another school, he skips town rather than deal with any negative consequences of his own failure. Really, Holden isn't much of a role model. And since he spends most of the book doing the exact things that parents tend to forbid their kids from doing, along with the brief instances of foul language and other controversial items, I can see why a lot of parents don't like it.
But, on the other hand, there is a reason why Catcher in the Rye is a classic.
This reason is not immediately apparent. For the first three quarters of the book, I was both bored and annoyed at Holden, because Holden is a loser. He sucks at pretty much everything, and to make it worse, he also complains about everything. I'm not even sure that he tries. Halfway through the book, I almost stopped reading because I was sick of waiting for something to happen. Spoiler alert: nothing does, really. This book is basically a few days in the odd life of a high school dropout.
But I'm really glad that I stuck with it, because in the last quarter of the book, things start to make sense. You start to see that Holden is not meant to be some kind of hero, as much as he wants to be. The story of Holden is a story of a broken kid, trapped between childhood and adulthood, who does not know how to find his place in the world. Of course I wanted to give up on Holden. Holden has given up on himself long before the novel began. Holden's life is one of profound disappointment in both himself and those around him.
And, you know, there is probably more than one teenager who can relate to that.
Catcher in the Rye is a classic because, like many classics, it expertly captures a piece of truth that resonates. Granted, that truth is not always pretty, but it's real. And sometimes I think that this is the whole reason that we read books. We read in order to get out of our own heads and see if we can find a part of ourselves in someone else's. And as much as I want to roll my eyes at Holden Caulfield, I have to admit that he is very real. While I've never done pretty much anything he does in the book, I can relate to him on a pretty profound level. At some point or another, it's possible that we are Holden Caulfield.
Yes, Holden does some bad things. Leaving school and holing up in some skeevy hotel in the city in order to annoy everyone around him is probably not the best idea. But Holden's bad choices lead him to bad consequences. No one can read this book and come away with the idea that smoking, drinking, and complaining paves the road to happiness.
And just as Holden is confused as to whether he is a child or an adult, it's hard to tell when a kid is adult enough to handle the kind of truth that is presented in Catcher in the Rye. There is a real danger in letting your kid grow up too fast or too slowly. On one extreme, you've got eight-year-old kings, and on the other, you've got thirty-five-year-old basement dwellers. Most parents are shooting for the center of that spectrum.
How do you get to the center? I have no idea.
But realistically speaking, while Catcher in the Rye does have some undesirable content, it's a whole lot cleaner than a lot of the literature out there, which will be required reading in college. Even in one of the most conservative schools in the country, like the one I attended. When kids finish high school, they are expected to magically become adults. Maybe tagging along on Holden's journey will help them get there.
Either way, Catcher in the Rye is an excellent book. The best way to figure out if it's appropriate is to read it for yourself and make your own conclusions. Just make sure you make it all the way to the end.
Regards, best wishes, and I'm not telling you how to raise your kids,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Ignorance and Fire
My Dear Reader,
Last week I talked to you about my self-imposed challenge of reading ten classics in 2013.
I'm pleased to say that as of March, I've read The Hobbit, Fahrenheit 451, and Catcher in the Rye. Not bad, if I say so myself.
These three books were each important to me because, for various reasons, they were books I'd given up on as a teenager. I feel especially bad about Fahrenheit 451 because it's a dystopian novel, my absolute favorite genre. I tried reading it in high school and quit about two chapters in, probably because I didn't get Ray Bradbury's style. I also tried reading some of his other works (I was determined to be a fan of his at that age), and it just didn't appeal to me. I don't know what's changed between then and now, but I just loved reading it this time around.
Fahrenheit 451 is about a dark future in which all books are banned. Firemen, instead of putting fires out, are now in charge of burning books.
So it's pretty natural to think that the book is about censorship, and on a surface level, it is. But the deeper I went, the more I started to realize that it's not really about censorship as much as it's about how intellectual laziness leads to anti-intellectualism. That's a pretty powerful subject.
As I read, I came across this quote: "If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn."
And I thought that quote pretty much sums up my high school experience.
The teenage years are pretty confusing for everybody, mostly because your intelligence has finally risen to a level where you start to realize that the world around you isn't as perfect as you once thought it was. At the same time, however, you are not yet intelligent or experienced enough to know what to do about it. In most cases, this creates a lot of angsty whining. I wish I could say that I was above all of that, but then my pants might combust.
So yeah, I was a pretty annoying teenager. And I was also pretty vocal.
Did you want to know any of my ideas on culture, religion, or politics? You barely had to ask. Did you want to know what was wrong with anything within my field of vision? You probably didn't, but I told you anyway. I usually managed to be nicer about it than I felt like being, but let's just say that it was easy to lose patience with me in a very short amount of time.
And you know what? A lot of people were pretty honest right back. A lot of people challenged everything I thought and believed. And they weren't always nice about it. And at a very vulnerable and confusing time in my life, it really, really hurt.
But the more I was challenged, the more I had to find a way to counter their arguments.
And the more I had to counter an argument, the more I had to think.
And the more I thought, the more I learned (by trial and error) how to separate what was actually true from what I wanted to be true.
And the more I figured out what was actually true, the more I learned that even though the world was imperfect, I had the opportunity to become a better person and make my world at least bearable.
So, to summarize: I showed my ignorance, I got hit, and I learned.
And what's so great about Fahrenheit 451 is that it shows you what happens when people hide their ignorance. It shows a culture where people want to look intelligent instead of be intelligent. So they read the CliffsNotes and say they read the whole thing. And then they get this weird but common idea that there is too much to read and learn, and it's not worth the trouble. They don't want to be challenged. They want to be entertained.
So they dumb down everything in their life until they are living on an intellectual diet analogous to Twinkies and Oreos.
And when everyone is like that, you know who the greatest threat is? Someone who reads.
That's why they have to burn the books. The best way to hide your ignorance is to surround yourself with people as ignorant as you are.
The really scary thing about all of this is how true it is, and how much I see it around me. What's terrifying is how much I see it in myself. There are days and sometimes weeks when all I ask of the world is to distract me enough so I don't have to think. Maybe it's not so bad once in a while. But on a regular basis? Well, then, it seems to me like I have a choice between burning my ignorance or burning my chance at becoming better.
Either way, there is going to be fire. I just have to choose where to direct it.
So yes, I did give up on reading a book at the same time in which I was essentially living its main conflict. Irony gets you every time. In the end, though, I'm not sure if Teenage Cecily would have benefited as much from the ideas in Fahrenheit 451 as much as I (Present Cecily) did. I think that as an adult, when it is a lot easier to hide my ignorance if I so choose, it is all the more important for me to remember the danger of intellectual laziness.
Of course, I have seven more classics to read, so my brain doesn't really have time for loafing.
Regards, best wishes, and the courage to be ignorant,
-Cecily Jane
Last week I talked to you about my self-imposed challenge of reading ten classics in 2013.
I'm pleased to say that as of March, I've read The Hobbit, Fahrenheit 451, and Catcher in the Rye. Not bad, if I say so myself.
These three books were each important to me because, for various reasons, they were books I'd given up on as a teenager. I feel especially bad about Fahrenheit 451 because it's a dystopian novel, my absolute favorite genre. I tried reading it in high school and quit about two chapters in, probably because I didn't get Ray Bradbury's style. I also tried reading some of his other works (I was determined to be a fan of his at that age), and it just didn't appeal to me. I don't know what's changed between then and now, but I just loved reading it this time around.
Fahrenheit 451 is about a dark future in which all books are banned. Firemen, instead of putting fires out, are now in charge of burning books.
So it's pretty natural to think that the book is about censorship, and on a surface level, it is. But the deeper I went, the more I started to realize that it's not really about censorship as much as it's about how intellectual laziness leads to anti-intellectualism. That's a pretty powerful subject.
As I read, I came across this quote: "If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn."
And I thought that quote pretty much sums up my high school experience.
The teenage years are pretty confusing for everybody, mostly because your intelligence has finally risen to a level where you start to realize that the world around you isn't as perfect as you once thought it was. At the same time, however, you are not yet intelligent or experienced enough to know what to do about it. In most cases, this creates a lot of angsty whining. I wish I could say that I was above all of that, but then my pants might combust.
So yeah, I was a pretty annoying teenager. And I was also pretty vocal.
Did you want to know any of my ideas on culture, religion, or politics? You barely had to ask. Did you want to know what was wrong with anything within my field of vision? You probably didn't, but I told you anyway. I usually managed to be nicer about it than I felt like being, but let's just say that it was easy to lose patience with me in a very short amount of time.
And you know what? A lot of people were pretty honest right back. A lot of people challenged everything I thought and believed. And they weren't always nice about it. And at a very vulnerable and confusing time in my life, it really, really hurt.
But the more I was challenged, the more I had to find a way to counter their arguments.
And the more I had to counter an argument, the more I had to think.
And the more I thought, the more I learned (by trial and error) how to separate what was actually true from what I wanted to be true.
And the more I figured out what was actually true, the more I learned that even though the world was imperfect, I had the opportunity to become a better person and make my world at least bearable.
So, to summarize: I showed my ignorance, I got hit, and I learned.
And what's so great about Fahrenheit 451 is that it shows you what happens when people hide their ignorance. It shows a culture where people want to look intelligent instead of be intelligent. So they read the CliffsNotes and say they read the whole thing. And then they get this weird but common idea that there is too much to read and learn, and it's not worth the trouble. They don't want to be challenged. They want to be entertained.
So they dumb down everything in their life until they are living on an intellectual diet analogous to Twinkies and Oreos.
And when everyone is like that, you know who the greatest threat is? Someone who reads.
That's why they have to burn the books. The best way to hide your ignorance is to surround yourself with people as ignorant as you are.
The really scary thing about all of this is how true it is, and how much I see it around me. What's terrifying is how much I see it in myself. There are days and sometimes weeks when all I ask of the world is to distract me enough so I don't have to think. Maybe it's not so bad once in a while. But on a regular basis? Well, then, it seems to me like I have a choice between burning my ignorance or burning my chance at becoming better.
Either way, there is going to be fire. I just have to choose where to direct it.
So yes, I did give up on reading a book at the same time in which I was essentially living its main conflict. Irony gets you every time. In the end, though, I'm not sure if Teenage Cecily would have benefited as much from the ideas in Fahrenheit 451 as much as I (Present Cecily) did. I think that as an adult, when it is a lot easier to hide my ignorance if I so choose, it is all the more important for me to remember the danger of intellectual laziness.
Of course, I have seven more classics to read, so my brain doesn't really have time for loafing.
Regards, best wishes, and the courage to be ignorant,
-Cecily Jane
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Books, Books, and more Books
My Dear Reader,
As one of my 2013 New Year resolutions, I decided to read ten classic novels within the course of the year.
It's actually not as challenging as you think, though, because a while ago I started a habit of putting a classic into my shopping cart whenever I found one at a decent price, and now I own somewhere around thirty-five classics that I've never read.
So, you know, creating a habit of reading those classics is probably a good idea.*
And it's not that I don't enjoy classic stories. I really do. I have seen almost every BBC period adaptation that presently exists.
Yes. That many of them.
I even read a lot of classics as a child. Or at least, I thought I did. I had a lot of those children's editions that had a lot of pictures, and it took me way, way too long to realize that they made room for the pictures by taking out all of the depth. I'm still not over the betrayal.
And I do read classics now, just not on a regular basis. As an adult who has finished(?) her schooling, the vast array of books that are considered classics can be a little daunting. Sometimes it's hard to know where to begin. And since reading is a skill that requires practice, and classic books tend to require more skill than others, sometimes it's hard to know which books you're ready for and which ones you need to work up to.
And some of them are just long. Long stories are a challenge all their own.
But life is about challenges, right? Besides, thirty-five unread books on your shelf is a bit embarrassing for a girl like me. I don't keep them around for decoration.
And beyond that, I know from experience that there's a reason that classics are classics. These books get put in this category because one way or another, they're the stories that changed the world. And that means that there's a good chance that they can change me.
I've already read three of my ten required books, so I'm going at a good pace so far. At this point, I need to choose six out of the following:
So yeah, I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?
Regards, best wishes and wish me luck,
-Cecily Jane
*Besides, I already read so much dystopian fiction that they can't print books fast enough to keep up with my demand. It's only fair to give the genre a break.
**These are books that I read a watered-down version of, I half-finished, or I read so long ago that I barely remember them. And a lot of them are books that were assigned reading at some point, but let's just skip over that part.
As one of my 2013 New Year resolutions, I decided to read ten classic novels within the course of the year.
It's actually not as challenging as you think, though, because a while ago I started a habit of putting a classic into my shopping cart whenever I found one at a decent price, and now I own somewhere around thirty-five classics that I've never read.
So, you know, creating a habit of reading those classics is probably a good idea.*
And it's not that I don't enjoy classic stories. I really do. I have seen almost every BBC period adaptation that presently exists.
Yes. That many of them.
I even read a lot of classics as a child. Or at least, I thought I did. I had a lot of those children's editions that had a lot of pictures, and it took me way, way too long to realize that they made room for the pictures by taking out all of the depth. I'm still not over the betrayal.
And I do read classics now, just not on a regular basis. As an adult who has finished(?) her schooling, the vast array of books that are considered classics can be a little daunting. Sometimes it's hard to know where to begin. And since reading is a skill that requires practice, and classic books tend to require more skill than others, sometimes it's hard to know which books you're ready for and which ones you need to work up to.
And some of them are just long. Long stories are a challenge all their own.
But life is about challenges, right? Besides, thirty-five unread books on your shelf is a bit embarrassing for a girl like me. I don't keep them around for decoration.
And beyond that, I know from experience that there's a reason that classics are classics. These books get put in this category because one way or another, they're the stories that changed the world. And that means that there's a good chance that they can change me.
I've already read three of my ten required books, so I'm going at a good pace so far. At this point, I need to choose six out of the following:
- The Iliad
- Tess of the d'Urbervilles
- Treasure Island**
- Black Beauty**
- Peter Pan**
- The Mysterious Affair at Styles
- The Sign of the Four
- The Hound of the Baskervilles
- Ethan Frome
- The Wind in the Willows**
- The Wonderful Wizard of Oz**
- A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
- White Fang
- Vanity Fair
- The House of Mirth
- Moll Flanders
- The Moonstone
- Dracula**
- Little Women
- David Copperfield**
- The Three Musketeers**
- Moby-Dick
- Wuthering Heights
- A Tale of Two Cities**
- Anna Karenina
- War and Peace
- Middlemarch**
- Little Dorrit**
- The Rise of Silas Lapham
- Lord Jim
- A Passage to India
- The Pit
- Hard Times
- The Big Sleep
- Bhagavad-Gita
- And probably more that are in storage somewhere. I really need a new bookcase.
So yeah, I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?
Regards, best wishes and wish me luck,
-Cecily Jane
*Besides, I already read so much dystopian fiction that they can't print books fast enough to keep up with my demand. It's only fair to give the genre a break.
**These are books that I read a watered-down version of, I half-finished, or I read so long ago that I barely remember them. And a lot of them are books that were assigned reading at some point, but let's just skip over that part.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Cecily vs. Girl World
My Dear Reader,
Most girls don't like me.
Mind you, this is not an emotional conclusion; it's a logical one. I have always struggled to have friends of my own gender, but as a kid, being friends with girls means playing Barbies, and Barbies were boring. Climbing on top of the roof and reading the most recent Baby Sitters Club book was, in my young opinion, a much better way to spend an afternoon.
Oh, right. Most girls don't like me because I'm really weird. Darn.
But when you're seven years old, climbing on the roof was the most exciting thing that you could do, so I did it regularly. I also liked climbing really tall trees. Trees were better, actually, because the roof gets really hot in the summer Sacramento sun. Just so you know.
And I liked doing other exciting things, like riding my bike down the steep hill as fast as I could. Or catching bugs.* Or pretending to be a super hero. And while I was occasionally able to find girls who would come with me on my adventures, they usually didn't stick around for very long. So I had a lot of guy friends, and I got labeled a nerd and a tomboy, and it really didn't bother me much. I figured that the girly girls were just missing out.
As an adult, I know that I missed out on things, too. I still know hardly anything about makeup, clothes, or flirting, and I'm just starting to realize how that affects my (lack of) romantic life. Instead of seducing men with feminine wiles(?), I try to be comfortable and honest with them, which is apparently the worst dating strategy there is. There's also the part where I am super awkward and treat the guys I like as if they don't exist. I'm sure that's not helpful. My guy friends definitely failed to prepare me for that aspect of my life.
And while you would think that a life-long study of several prominent areas of geekdom and a long association with male geeks would come handy in the dating department, it does not. Geeky guys, in my experience, do not like geeky girls unless a) the geek girl is so deep in the geek closet that only he knows her level of geekery, or b) there are no other alternatives.** And there comes a point where if they don't want to date you, they don't really care to be friends with you, either.
So yeah. There were some drawbacks there.
It took a long time for me to develop friendships with women that were actually healthy. Like, where I didn't feel like some charity case. I was in my twenties before I was able to find other girls who were as interested in deep conversations and grand adventures as I am. And sure, I'm still weird. I'm the strangest person I know, really. But it turns out that when you grow up, you're able to find people who actually appreciate that. It turns out that every once in a while, you're not on the outside looking in.
And, believe it or not, the older I get, the more I start to think that certain feminine traits aren't really so bad.
Don't get me wrong; I still skip the boring stuff. I've never been the kind of girl who fits easily into any kind of box. And sure, that means that a lot of girls still don't like me. But some of them do, and I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful for the women in my life who understand that I do my own thing. And I'm grateful that I'm able to understand that they do theirs.
Understanding can be its own kind of adventure.
Regards, best wishes, and sappiness,
-Cecily Jane
*I was one of the best bug catchers the second grade has ever seen. Believe it.
**It's a sad reality. All of my fantasies about Star Trek date nights have been dashed to pieces. All of the time I spent watching every single episode and movie has apparently been a huge waste of time.
Wait, no it's not. Star Trek is awesome.
Most girls don't like me.
Mind you, this is not an emotional conclusion; it's a logical one. I have always struggled to have friends of my own gender, but as a kid, being friends with girls means playing Barbies, and Barbies were boring. Climbing on top of the roof and reading the most recent Baby Sitters Club book was, in my young opinion, a much better way to spend an afternoon.
Oh, right. Most girls don't like me because I'm really weird. Darn.
But when you're seven years old, climbing on the roof was the most exciting thing that you could do, so I did it regularly. I also liked climbing really tall trees. Trees were better, actually, because the roof gets really hot in the summer Sacramento sun. Just so you know.
And I liked doing other exciting things, like riding my bike down the steep hill as fast as I could. Or catching bugs.* Or pretending to be a super hero. And while I was occasionally able to find girls who would come with me on my adventures, they usually didn't stick around for very long. So I had a lot of guy friends, and I got labeled a nerd and a tomboy, and it really didn't bother me much. I figured that the girly girls were just missing out.
As an adult, I know that I missed out on things, too. I still know hardly anything about makeup, clothes, or flirting, and I'm just starting to realize how that affects my (lack of) romantic life. Instead of seducing men with feminine wiles(?), I try to be comfortable and honest with them, which is apparently the worst dating strategy there is. There's also the part where I am super awkward and treat the guys I like as if they don't exist. I'm sure that's not helpful. My guy friends definitely failed to prepare me for that aspect of my life.
And while you would think that a life-long study of several prominent areas of geekdom and a long association with male geeks would come handy in the dating department, it does not. Geeky guys, in my experience, do not like geeky girls unless a) the geek girl is so deep in the geek closet that only he knows her level of geekery, or b) there are no other alternatives.** And there comes a point where if they don't want to date you, they don't really care to be friends with you, either.
So yeah. There were some drawbacks there.
It took a long time for me to develop friendships with women that were actually healthy. Like, where I didn't feel like some charity case. I was in my twenties before I was able to find other girls who were as interested in deep conversations and grand adventures as I am. And sure, I'm still weird. I'm the strangest person I know, really. But it turns out that when you grow up, you're able to find people who actually appreciate that. It turns out that every once in a while, you're not on the outside looking in.
And, believe it or not, the older I get, the more I start to think that certain feminine traits aren't really so bad.
Don't get me wrong; I still skip the boring stuff. I've never been the kind of girl who fits easily into any kind of box. And sure, that means that a lot of girls still don't like me. But some of them do, and I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful for the women in my life who understand that I do my own thing. And I'm grateful that I'm able to understand that they do theirs.
Understanding can be its own kind of adventure.
Regards, best wishes, and sappiness,
-Cecily Jane
*I was one of the best bug catchers the second grade has ever seen. Believe it.
**It's a sad reality. All of my fantasies about Star Trek date nights have been dashed to pieces. All of the time I spent watching every single episode and movie has apparently been a huge waste of time.
Wait, no it's not. Star Trek is awesome.
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