A Cup of Stars

"Eleanor looked up, surprised; the little girl was sliding back in her chair, sullenly refusing her milk, while her father frowned and her brother giggled and her mother said calmly, 'She wants her cup of stars.'

Indeed yes, Eleanor thought; indeed, so do I; a cup of stars, of course.

'Her little cup,' the mother was explaining, smiling apologetically at the waitress, who was thunderstruck at the thought that the mill's good country milk was not rich enough for the little girl. 'It has stars in the bottom, and she always drinks her milk from it at home. She calls it her cup of stars because she can see the stars while she drinks her milk.' The waitress nodded, unconvinced, and the mother told the little girl, 'You'll have your milk from your cup of stars tonight when we get home. But just for now, just to be a very good little girl, will you take a little milk from this glass?'

Don't do it, Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again; don't do it; and the little girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly comprehending smile, and shook her head stubbornly at the glass. Brave girl, Eleanor thought; wise, brave girl."*

— Shirley Jackson (The Haunting of Hill House)
______________________________________

Every time I take a trip I try to do something that I've never done before.

Until a few weeks ago, I had never read a scary book. So knowing that I'd be, for better or for worse, with my parents 'round the clock for 10 days seemed the perfect opportunity to try to scare the pants of myself because, no matter how old you are, parents make monsters go away.

I went to A Novel Idea Bookstore and bought a used copy of The Haunting of Hill House. It met my criteria, it is: short, the premise to one of the greatest scary movies of all time, and by an author I trust implicitly to unnerve but not scare me out of my wits.

I wasn't disappointed. The book is character driven, psychological, and beautifully written. It's a work of terror, not horror. Horror relies on an external element to spook you, terror creeps innocuously and works from the inside out to make you afraid. Horror is a hand suddenly reaching from off screen to grab you, terror makes you inexplicably afraid of your own hand.

Jackson gives us Eleanor as our unreliable narrator. She is dull and pathologically insecure to the extent that, having no hue of its own, her personality takes on the color of all the other characters in the story. Indeed, Jackson takes her from the one-dimensional character we first meet all the way to a compendium of the experiences, events, and other characters—perhaps even the house itself—by the conclusion of the book.

Perhaps Jackson's success lies in the fact that she elevates the typical haunted house genre and makes it unique unto itself. To elaborate on the plot would be to spoil the fun; suffice it to say that this is a good book that becomes great as it gradually imbeds itself in your imagination.

*The passage at the beginning of this post is my favorite part of the book. Eleanor is a causal observer of this incident at a diner. The line, "Indeed yes, Eleanor thought; indeed, so do I; a cup of stars, of course," is amazing.
Without any context whatsoever, Eleanor childishly agrees that she too wants a cup of stars. Because of her suppressed and sheltered upbringing, Eleanor forgets herself and subconsciously reaches for her lost childhood. By the end of this excerpt, Eleanor is adamant that the little girl exhibit stubbornness and strength. It's a wish more for the little girl Eleanor harbors inside than for the little girl she is witnessing in this scene.

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

A Million Miles in a Thousand Years
Donald Miller
Friends warned me to set aside a lot of time when I started this book because I'd read it in two days; they were wrong. I read it in one.

The book is about how Miller gets an offer to turn his bestseller Blue Like Jazz into a movie and the process of writing the screenplay. In writing an autobiographical screenplay, Miller is asked to present a cinema-worthy version of himself and discovers that his "story" is just not that compelling.


Miller realizes that he is being called to "write a better story" for himself. Somewhere between riding his bike across the U.S., hiking Machu Picchu, and starting The Mentoring Project, Miller lets the Author write him into a better character.

"You can call it God or a conscience, or you can dismiss it as that intuitive knowing we all have as human beings, as living storytellers; but there is a knowing I feel that guides me toward better stories, toward being a better character. I believe there is a writer outside ourselves, plotting a better story for us, interacting with us, even, and whispering a better story into our consciousness."

Miller talks about overcoming fear and addresses the problem of having over-elevated expectations about people, possessions, and even God: "When you stop expecting people to be perfect, you can like them for who they are. And when you stop expecting material possessions to complete you, you'd be surprised at how much pleasure you get in material possessions. And when you stop expecting God to end all your troubles, you'd be surprised how much you like spending time with God."

Like me (and countless other people), Miller had to unlearn about the God he knew growing up—a god that inspires guilt and fear—in order to trust Him to write a better story. "As a kid, the only sense I got from God was guilt...The real Voice is stiller and smaller and seems to know, without confusion, the difference between right and wrong and the subtle delineation between the beautiful and profane. It's not an agitated Voice, but ever patient as though it approves a million false starts."

Miller doesn't treat God as a fearsome ruler or swing too far the other way, thinking of God as a fairy godfather; he treats God with as much respect as he does familiarity. Miller acknowledges that while God can help write a better story, He does not promise a perfect one: "Growing up in church, we were taught that Jesus was the answer to all our problems. We were taught that there was a circle-shaped hole in our heart and that we had tried to fill it with the square pegs of sex, drugs, and rock and roll; but only the circle peg of Jesus could fill our hole. I became a Christian based, in part, on this promise, but the hole never really went away. To be sure, I like Jesus and I still follow him, but the idea that Jesus will make everything better is a lie. It's basically biblical theology translated into the language of infomercials. The truth is, the apostles never really promise Jesus is going to make everything better here on earth...I think Jesus can make things better but I don't think he's going to make things perfect. Not here, not now."

"It's interesting that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the only practical advice given about living a meaningful life is to find job you like, enjoy your marriage, and obey God. It' as though God is saying, write a good story, take somebody with you, and let me help."

My fear of writing a better story is obvious: I'm worried where God will ask me to go and what He'll ask me to do. Also, I worry proximity to God will mean losing too much of myself. I'm not that great or anything, but at least I know who I am.

I worry that if I get too close to the source of all good that somehow I'll be absorbed; I'll never swear, or drink, or think about sex again. I'll become this Jesus drone—that God will steer me back to the Lutheran bubble, ask me to preach apologetics, and cause me to inexplicably volunteer to bring ambrosia salads for the church potlucks.

But what if it's not like that at all—what if proximity to God meant that I could be more myself than ever? Perhaps closeness to God would mean I could love more and judge less, have confidence to approach my Christian community with my biggest doubts and hardest questions, and read the Bible less for platitudes and more because it's full of stories about people even more messed up than me. What if it meant that, overall, I could live a better story?

I guess there's only one way to find out. I don't have a good conclusion for this post but I think I've at least got an inciting incident for my story.

Long-Distance Relationship

Bottle from Kirsten Lepore on Vimeo.

For HMVD

By one of my my favorite stop-motion directors, Kirsten Lepore (she did "Sweet Dreams" too, I'll post it sometime).

A January Review of The Decemberists' New Album

The Decemberists have parred down their style and got back to their roots in their new album, The King Is Dead and I'm liking some but not all of it. The group embraces a more down-home, americana approach that is almost anachronistic for its time—with no point of reference, it would be difficult to discern whether the songs heralded from yesteryear's recordings of appalacian folk, the 1970s movement, or today's freak folk scene.
I predict that "Don't Carry It All" and "Calamity Song" (a tribute to R.E.M. that doesn't remind us of "Talks about Passion" at all...nope) will garner the most itunes downloads but I personally enjoyed "January Hymn" for its honest, simple melodies. Those who, like me, abhor country music should be warned though, the slower songs have more twang than you might like and toe the line between folk and folk country; "Dear Avery" especially starts out well but then crosses over into what I deem unlistenable territory (thanks to the introduction of the Dobro a minute or so in).

All in all, I don't think The Decemberists can compete with the best out there in freak folk right now—I'm thinking Mumford & Sons (if you haven't heard them yet, look them up, they're divine)—but fans probably won't be too disappointed by the latest offering.

Everyday Ordinary

I threw together this graphic because I loved this quote from Woolf, a woman who saw the extraordinary in the most banal of objects and circumstances.

I stumbled upon these photos of what someone did with chain link fences and I wondered what that person had to do to get permission to alter the fences, how much work went into them, was that person hansomely paid? Or did he or she do it for peanuts just to beautify something plain? Regardless, how much time went into these? I don't know the origin or the story behind these but I sort of prefer it that way. It's enough to see that someone took something prohibitive and harsh and wove it into inviting, delicate lace.

Black Swan—Movie Review

I wasn't going to go see this movie because I heard it was a little naughty (which it is) but it was getting so many award nods that I couldn't resist the pull of feathers, tulle, and promising performances. I wasn't disappointed.

The lovely Leslie Davila and I went last night. We dressed up for each other, each got red slushies, and went to the ballerina movie—a consummate girl's night out.

The movie begins much like any ballet movie; Nina (Natalie Portman) wakes up in a pretty pink nightgown, surrounded herself with her stuffed animal collection, and is sing-songed awake by her overly affectionate though somewhat unbalanced mother. Nina buzzes with anticipation knowing that auditions for Swan Lake are coming soon pending the retirement of the prima ballerina, Beth (played well by Winona Ryder). Here's my first spoiler—Beth retires and Nina gets the part (shocking, I know).

That her technique is impeccable and she embodies the virginal, delicate white swan, the director knows; his concern is that Nina won't be able to play the sensual, powerful black swan too.

If you don't know the story of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, it's about a princess, Odette who gets turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer. One day, Prince Siegfried goes hunting at dusk, sees and takes aim at a lovely white swan for his collection when the swan transforms into a beautiful woman. He learns that until she receives a promise of love from a virgin prince she will ever remain a swan by day and woman by night. The prince falls in love with Odette but by a trick of the evil sorcerer he is seduced and accidentally proposes to another woman at a party (the black swan in human form). Odette, devastated, kills herself and the prince feeling so regretful follows her so they can be reunited in death.

Nina's professional training to become the black swan becomes a destructive transformation of herself: her mommy issues, pressure for perfection, and, most prevalently, her sexuality.

All in all, the film is visually stunning, the plot edgy, and Portman's performance is perfectly en pointe. One can see that she has shed blood, sweat, and tears to become a dancer for this film (one entire year of training) and her acting gave me goosebumps. I will also submit that this movie has the feel of a classic film—it was the subtle suspense that carefully avoided cheesiness and the perfectly packaged storyline.
Things you should know before you see this film:
1) It's naughty—there's about every variety of sexuality in this film but I strongly feel that it was necessary to tell the story
2) It's graphic—dancers already have enough cracks, snaps, and bloodied feet but this film takes it to the enth degree by adding an element of fantasy and horror, and
3) If you're easily spooked, you might want to rent or skip this movie altogether.

All that said, if you think you'll like this movie at all then definitely see it in the theater. Natalie Portman shimmers, the costumes wow, and I just don't think a television will give the same feeling of there being a stage before you as the big screen will.

Three A.M. Resolutions

Happy 2011, all! I am still up on New Year's Day and already breaking would-be resolutions as I sample a couple of the delicious but unhealthy hors d'oeuvres left over from my party and shirk the responsibility of cleaning up and opting, rather, to blog. I was and remain unsure of whether to share a short list of resolutions on the blog because 1) really, who cares other than me and 2) is this really how I wish to start my 2011 blogging—oversharing while overtired?

However, I become most inspired when reading others' New Year's resolutions—even if the resolution is awful or not applicable, it will, more often than not, remind me of something that would be relevant to me and lead me to a new idea. So here's to sharing ideas if for no better reason than inspiring even more impressive ones in the minds of others. Here's only a snapshot of my very long list of resolutions (in absolutely no discernible order):
—I already signed up for a 10k race in June, I know that I could get through it now by walking (possibly crawling at the end) but I resolve to train so I can perform at the race, not just survive it.
—To be more thoughtful of friends and family: go play bridge with my grandpa, write letters to my West coasters, beat deadlines at work to make my colleague's jobs easier, find more ways to show my parents and brother I appreciate them
—To pursue graphic design with more intention and focus this year
—Finally finish the One-Year Bible (I'm still stuck in May)
—To read 40 books this year
—Go to the library more
—Take vitamins every night before I go to bed
—Put more money away in savings, set and adhere to stricter budgets, and tithe faithfully
—Buy one book of stamps every two months and send enough mail so I have to repeat this six times this year
—Make do with less; do a spring clean very early to start the year fresh
—Find and pursue at least one type of volunteerism/charity
—I have a really great guy in my life for the first time so I would like to learn what I can do to make him happy, support him, and be the kind of woman he is proud to have by his side
—Practice things I'm only so-so at: piano, tango, salsa, baking bread, photography, etc.
—Travel more this year
—Try 11 new things in 2011 and do much more exploring in general
—Consider leading or joining a Bible study again
—Become more articulate and stop speaking in hyperbole as often as I do
—Make my incentives at work and put earnings directly into savings
—Practice Spanish much more this year
—Spend less time in front of screens (TV and computer)
—Make my blog more dynamic, beneficial for others, inspirational, and with more original photography

There are many more but for now, these will have to do. Have a wonderful beginning of 2011 and make this your best year ever.

My all-time favorite rendition of Auld Lang Syne (skip the video, I just posted so you can hear the song):