Welcome to Breathless Noon:
an exploration of culture, relationships, and philosophy.
"Not the sun nor the summer alone, but every hour and season yields
its tribute of delight, for every hour and change corresponds to and authorizes
a different state of mind, from breathless noon to grimmest midnight."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, from his book Nature
Using a Brain That They Keep In a Jar By the Door
July 13th, 2008
I can always count on the General Public ™ to piss me off.
I was listening to the radio the other day, and something the deejay said made me so angry I almost had to pull over to the side of the road to call in. (I know what you’re thinking–does she have anything better to do than dial in to radio shows? The truth is my morning commute is–well, was, as my company has now gone out of business–an hour long, so I had plenty of time to listen to a whole lot of BS on the radio, and there is only so much BS you can take before you want to start screaming something sensible, just to remind yourself, and hopefully everyone else, that there are still intelligent people in the world.)
Anyway, the deejay had just seen Wall-E, and he said he liked it, except that it portrayed fat people as lazy and he wasn’t down with that.
I banged on my steering wheel. I threw my hands up in the air in disbelief. How anyone could sit through that movie and completely miss the point is beyond me.
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Posted in Personal Ethics, General Culture | No Comments »
Blackness in American Political Narrative
June 11th, 2008
I was on the radio this morning talking about Barack Obama and whether or not he would really be “the first black president” (which honor apparently goes to Warren G[angsta]. Harding, secret Negro president) because, according to some people, his being half white makes him not black.
It doesn’t. It doesn’t in any way negate his blackness. I’ve written about this before, so I won’t rehash it here. But it did get me thinking about this issue from another perspective.
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Posted in General Culture, Politics | 4 Comments »
I Don’t Want No Twitter Chatter
May 28th, 2008
I received an email not too long ago indicating that a good friend of mine wanted to follow me on Twitter.
I sighed, deleting the email. I will not now, nor anytime in the near future (I dare not say “never” for the word “never” seems to attract the attention of the universe who will then go out of its way to prove you wrong) sign up for Twitter. It isn’t that I don’t think it’s a cute idea, or that it is useful for some people, but for me, Twitter is exactly what is wrong with adult friendships.
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Posted in Miscellaneous, General Culture, Relationships | 8 Comments »
Not My Daughter
May 20th, 2008
I’ve always believed that words have power. One of my favorite euphemisms for putting a curse on someone is “to put words” on someone–to bind them by the finality and imperviousness of actual words, of letters, the actual building blocks of the universe. And owing to my deep loyalty to this belief, I won’t allow people to say things in my presence that I really don’t want to come true.
Nevertheless, my midwife cursed my daughter and me on the day of her birth. As she slid into this world covered in goo and screaming her slimy pink head off, my midwife stared at her white skin, her slender nose, the almond shape of her eyes, the dark blonde hair. And the midwife looked from the newborn baby to me, her newborn mother, and put words on us both with, “If I didn’t just take this baby out of you I’d never believe she was yours.”
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Posted in Miscellaneous, storytelling & memories | 6 Comments »
An Ordinary Magic
January 17th, 2008
When I was pregnant with my daughter ten years ago, I used to read Winnie the Pooh to her. I’d make all the different voices and sing the little songs, and I’m quite convinced that not only could she hear me, but she enjoyed being sung and cooed to. Babies certainly recognize voices even in utero, and I believe that my reading to her helped create an early bond between the two of us.
I don’t have tons of memories of having been read to as a child–not by family members, anyway. I’m sure my mother did read to me, as she has many stories about “that time I was reading to you…” but I must have been very small and I don’t remember. I learned to read very young and was a voracious reader, so maybe my mom just figured if I could read by myself there was no real need for her participation. Or, just as likely, perhaps she read to me frequently and I just don’t remember.
I do, however, remember two distinct times of having been read to by family. The first time was my father, who read The Magician’s Nephew by CS Lewis when I must have been 8 or 9. I remember sitting in the garage with him, writing on my chalk board, and my dad came out book in hand and said, “I’d like to read this story to you.” My parents were divorced and I didn’t live with my father. In fact, I saw him very little, so any time spent with my father was precious. I don’t recall being overly excited about the idea of being read to at first, but as we got into the story I remember being spellbound, utterly captivated by the goings on in Narnia. My father brought reading to a different level. It wasn’t just a story, it was magic.
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Posted in General Culture, storytelling & memories | 6 Comments »
