Wednesday, July 01, 2009

Two bits for magpie heads

I love birds but I'm speedily going back to my childhood hatred of magpies. For whatever reason it seems our cul de sac has been invaded by these loud, ugly birds. I understand they are smart; I understand they are one of God's creature, but good hell could they shut up? And talk about agressiveness--I've seen them taking on our cats on several occasions. Magpies 3, Cats 0.

I find myself pining for the good ole days my dad has often described to me when the farmers would pay them two bits (that's a quarter for you unschooled in rural money talk) for every magpie shot.

Just for today, let me forget all that environmental, nature loving rhetoric--give me a gun and bless me with good aim.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Misc reviews

Smart People (Dennis Quaid, Sarah Jessica Parker, Thomas Hayden Church, Ellen Page)

Wow, I stumbled upon this on the Netflix "watch now" online section. Just looking for a comedy the wife might enjoy, but got much more. I throroughly enjoyed this "romantic-comedy" which dared to show some real pain and confusion between the characters. Not only did we get authentic pain and confusion, making me feel physically uncomfortable for a brief moment, but many other qualities you rarely see in a comedy: the protagontist, Quaid's character, in full messy beard, is never completely likeable yet still I cheer for him; they paint Parker up to look less beautiful; Ellen Page gets drunk and kisses her 40 something adopted uncle which doesn't turn sexual; Church is brilliantly repugnant and cuddly.

Slumdog Millionaire

As always wishing I'd seen it earlier while everyone was discussing it but this will have to do. Luckily I waited for my teenage son to catch up to me and then we finished it together--we both will remember this one. Solid movie but I do understand some of the criticisms about the unrealistic nature of the film which was strangely highlighted with the singing and dancing in the streets and airport after it was over. Unimportant item I loved: the announcer's pronunciation of "Who wants to be a Millinare"--I smiled everytime.

Kent Haruf's Where we once belonged.

I love Haruf; his characterization of the Mcpheron brothers in Plainsong and Eventide was superb. And I quite enjoyed this book too, but the ending tore my fucking heart out. I generally do not bemoan depressing books or endings; still this one caught me off-guard. I get it intellectually--the book is about a town football hero who has always taken advantage of the townspeople and so it must end with him reeking havoc to illustrate the sins of the town. But, man oh man, it hurt. Maybe, in my somewhat depressed state I just couldn't face the reality Haruf left me with.

Friday, June 05, 2009

Why I hate graduations

Because they ask you to condense your experience (often years of experiences) into an hour and FEEL it: are you feeling it?

Because they are always caught up with flag waving and thanking our military for our peace—go tell the Iraqis about your fuckin peace. And, btw, what the hell does this have to do with a group of sixth graders moving onto junior high?

Because there is forced kitschy consensus

Because they bring the worst out in many people—a hyper uni-focus on their kid/grandkid, dads tripping over each other to get the right photos with video cams recording every precious moment, and that galling look of pride

Because they always seem to highlight the same kinds of kids: either the talented and extroverted who need no attention OR the sympathy cases like the girl with cancer asked last minute to sing in a trio even though she can’t sing

Because they package life into beginnings and endings, the big events where we pat ourselves and others on the back—of course life is actually a long day to day process with few endings and none we really choose

And lastly because they continue to multiply exponentially—kindergarten graduation, 6th grade graduation with pomp and circumstance and diplomas, one week music camp graduation with trophies, first level piano graduation with graduation photos…

Whew, I'm glad I got that off my chest--lots of downright nasty, pessimistic, cynical feelings on my part. Now I will be ready to face the next kid graduation when it comes. Thanks.

With my luck they will institute "Summer graduation" to start off the new year for all those children who successfully made it through the summer without their parents killing them. They can give awards to any child who did anything other than watch TV and play video games: like eat a veggie, make a bed, fold clothes, read a book, write a poem... And, if the budget allows, they can offer pins to any child who made it to Lagoon more than three times. And trophies, yes trophies, for children who made it up before 9am on 10 or more mornings.

The possibilities are limitless; our futures are so bright with glorious graduations on all the horizons.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Whiplash

A strange new set of duties has infiltrated my life. After spending a couple of weeks totally focused on work (grading papers, revising a journal article, writing a conference proposal) I now find myself making french toast for breakfast, running youngest to the dentist, calling the plumber, making up a sauce for barbecue ribs while helping my daughter finish her math.

It's an odd, whiplash kind of shift but it's good. It's good to slow down, fitting my life into the patterns of my children and wife; it's good to speed up, less time to think and analyze.

Well, off to take Hana to school--she put her foot down on attending gym for the last month (it's on Friday mornings) and we just couldn't care enough to fight her. She also won't walk: "Dad, there won't be a crossing guard!" she says in near hysteria.

Crossing guards seem like good idea, of course, but now my almost 12 year old daughter doesn't dare cross the road without one. Always costs and benefits.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

A family home evening on sex

I think my last long post either was incomprehensible or was merely too long. Either way, I better move it down the line and post something new.

As a parent I've rarely nailed it but on Monday, during our unconventional Mormon family home evening, I think I did just that.

I'd been stewing (in a good way) about finding a way to open up more honest discussion about sex with our two oldest children, one teen and one soon-to-be teen. While listening to a great new podcast Middlebrow introduced me to (To the best of our knowledge), I heard a short piece on teens from David Bainbridge's A Natural History of Teens. It seemed the perfect little piece to break the ice on the sex discussion.

And it worked. Of course what made the discussion amazing were my two great kids. They were authentic, unembarrassed, forthright. The discussion was great. Our 11-year old daughter, often very quiet, had many specific questions tied to particular experiences with friends. If anyone has ever doubted this, my daughter's questions confirmed that kids are hearing all kinds of things and there is no way parents can hide them from the "evils" of sexuality.

It was one of the moments which represented to me what I always thought parenting could be, what I imagined it might be if I were lucky. Just thinking about it gives me hope in the next generation, in their ability to learn, think, and question.

p.s. my son came home tonight full of vigor since he had questioned his old-school health teacher repeatedly as the teacher tried to present strict gender stereotypes. He said he was shaking but would continue to express his views even if the teacher retaliated--gotta love that kid. He showed me the gender chart--more awful than I could have imagine. One of my favorites which reifies stereotypes I thought were nearly dead:

Males: Has the greater tendency to press the "pedal to the metal"

Females: Has the greater ability to stop the engine before it overheats

Good God almighty! We are still telling women they must be the ones to say no and that men can't control themselves.

And, according to his little chart, men focus on reproductive organs and women focus on the whole person. Please,

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Unwanted disgust

Awhile ago I was working with a student who seems to be transitioning from a man into a woman—I’m not certain. Others clearly have the same questions as I since many people kept staring. At one point another student blatantly continued to stare so I stared back even though “Faith” didn’t seem to notice either of us. It made me angry that the student was staring, even though I knew damn well I would have been sneaking peaks (though probably not staring) at Faith had I been seated where the student was.

After working with “Faith” I must admit that I had a strong desire to wash my hands; kind of perplexing since I’m not very germ wary. I tried to fight the feeling, recognizing it as irrational, but I couldn’t shake it. I gave in and washed my hands even as I was disgusted with myself. Biology or….something, at least, runs deep.

The experience reminds me of Ursula Le Guin’s Sci-Fi novel, Left hand of Darkness, where Genly Ai, an early explorer on Gethen, finds himself overwhelmed on many occasions as he tries to negotiate with the Gethenians who do not have gender as we know it. Instead they are, in some ways, sexless except for a couple of days a month which they call kemmer, where they move towards one gender or the other for mating. Not only does Genly struggle to communicate with the Gethenians because he does not know whether to use tactics for a male or female, but he also, even after a year or so, has a level of abhorrence. Twice he has an opportunity to see kemmer up close and personal and, even, to engage in sex with a Gethenian.

First, on a truck where they are prisoners and naked: a young “girl” is in kemmer and desperately needs to mate (as kemmer is similar to being in heat) but he can’t even look at her: “I saw the girl, a filth, pretty, stupid, weary girl looking up into my face as she talked, smiling timidly, looking for solace . . . The one time any one of them asked anything of me, and I couldn’t’ give it. I got up and went to the window slit as if for air and a look out, and did not come back to my place for a long time” (171).

Second, while crossing Dobrin ice with Estraven, the only true Gethenian friend he has made. They’ve been traveling on the ice for weeks when Estraven enters kemmer. Genly reflects: “We were both silent for a little, and then he looked at me with a direct, gentle gaze. His face in the reddish light was as soft, as vulnerable, as remote as the face of a woman who looks at your out of her thoughts and does not speak.

And I saw then again, and for good, what I had always been afraid to see, and had pretended not to see in him: that he was a woman as well as a man. Any need to explain the sources of that fear vanished with the fear; what I was left with was, at last, acceptance of him as he was. Until then I had rejected him, refused him his own reality. He had been quite right to say that he, the only person on Gethen who trusted me, was the only Gethenian I distrusted. For he was the only one who had entirely accepted me as a human being: who had liked me personally and given me entire personal loyalty, and who therefore had demanded of me an equal degree of recognition, of acceptance. I had not been willing to give it. I had been afraid to give it. I had not wanted to give my trust, my friendship to a man who was a woman, a woman who was a man.” Later Estraven warns Genly not to touch him during the kemmer phase.

I’m not suggesting that Genly should have had sex in either situation but maybe…maybe it could have transcended difference, or maybe, as Genly suggest, it would have merely reminded them of their difference, of their alien natures. More importantly Le Guin’s imaginative “What ifs” concerning gender creates situations where we can more fully explore our utter reliance on strict, clean definitions of gender. I guess this isn’t very surprising—gender is a powerful biological and social construct. But it is, even biologically, to a degree a construct. That is biological gender is not nearly as clear cut as we want it to be and doesn’t necessarily have to mean what we assume it must. Somehow we will need to move beyond this biological response of disgust. Without moving beyond, we will continue to have people, like the man in Lebanon I heard interviewed on NPR who said “I hate gay people; they are disgusting and evil. They will tear down the fabric of our society.”

Generally I don’t see any relation between myself and a someone speaking such vitriolic bullshit but somewhere, deep down in my biology, there is revulsion and disgust I can’t quite come to terms with.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

"Seth is a sexy beast"

I've been working on a post about breasts, but it may be a rhetorical challenge too risky for even Counterintuitive. Instead, on a lighter note (breasts are a serious issue for me), I'm trying to figure out how it is that my I-Pod is named "Seth is a Sexy Beast." Here's how it went down:

1. My son, Seth, got a Nano I-pod from grandma before we really understood I-Pods

2. Said Nano, early on, got mysteriously bent which caused a few minor malfunctions at times

3. Said bent created a plethora of complaints and deep remorse from son

4. Said complaints drove me to distraction

5. A year or so later I purchased a Nano, the new ones which can play videos

6. Said new Nano made son jealous but I didn't care

7. A year later, trying to get some work done (ok maybe I was blogging) and get him to stop bothering me about how he couldn't play videos on his I-Pod, I finally relented: "Yeah, whatever, I will trad you as long as you put my music on yours and you make me an excercise playlist of rockin songs." (I'd yet to make a playlist because I suck and spend most my I-Pod time downloading podcasts)

8. And now I have an I-Pod which is called "Seth is a Sexy Beast"

9. Unforseen benefits of son taking advantage of me: I can see the screen on this I-Pod with my
cycling sun glasses and I can change songs with gloves (most of my I-Pod use occurs with my rear in a cycling seat), neither of which I could do with the newer, "improved" one.

10. I know I could change the name with a click, but I kind of like it, makes me chuckle everytime I see it and it reminds me of how much I really like my son.