"In the Land of Women"...chick flick extrordinare

So, I went to see a movie with my friend called "In the Land of Women". I liked it right away because I could see that this man (so cute Adrian Brody) who was lost in life was going to find himself with the help of three women: his grandmother, his next door neighbor (meg ryan), and the neigbor's daughter named Lucy...a budding teenage girl. How could he fail to find himself when he's surrounded by the Tripple Goddess: The Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. He comes to know them all on a personal level, and even helps them a little in return for all that they end up doing for him.
It was the ultimate chick flick because it wasn't just for women, it was about women and their mystery, power, compassion, and passions. I think that if any man wanted to understand women he would seek out such a situation. We are complicated, but not beyond understanding.

cupid and psyche

While many people might say they are motivated by money, or power, I suggest that everybody on earth is motivated by LOVE. Love is part of the soul, and to have a moment of self-realization where the soul finds love is not only poetic but the ultimate peak of happiness. If one loves power or one's self, even that qualifies...but it is far from realization.
The quest for the soul to find love is the most arduous and gruelling journey in life. To find true love one must expose one's self and find one's self and love one's self. This is harder for some than it is for others. My sister was born loving herself, but she has a hard time loving others because she can't let herself go or give herself over for fear of ridicule or rejection.
To find love is to find yourself as you were before the world did things to you, like made you think a certain way, or made you give up on dreams you've always had. To find love and posess it and know it clearly in the light of day is to metamorphoses into a being that you have always been but never been either.You will be more yourself than you have ever been before.
ps
loving can be anything. You can love people or you can love skiing or running. ANYTHING, that's what's so beautiful about it.

rape/abduction...is it bad?

Is rape and or the abduction of girls bad? Apparently not to the great writers and myth weavers of ancient greece. And apparently not to children's book authors, and apparently not to Disney. (yeah, yeah, we shouldn't listen to Disney, but it's there! Even if we do ignore it)
One of my favorite books of all time is Peter Pan by James M. Barry, but this is nothing more than an abduction tale and could easily be renamed The Rape/Abduction of Wendy. She leaves her mother of her own free will to follow the cocky, cute, boy Peter Pan to Never Never Land where she will remain the Maiden forever. She is kidnapped and coaxed but choses the boy over her family...where have I seen that before?
I have very veheminantly disliked the "rape" stories because of the action that takes place without concent and added it to the list of reasons why the Greeks were perhaps the most perverted of all great societies (with the exception of our own, perhaps. But it is generally aknowleged that rape is a bad thing, so I think we dodged that bullet) Anyway, I recently realized that Peter Pan is simply another story of the abduction of a young woman and began to think differently of it. However, I am stubborn, and chose instead to change my opinion of the "rape" stories present in Ovid's Metamorphoses. Pheraps it is merely the angle from which the story is told that made it so horrible to me. Perhaps the woman wanted to be taken...and don't we all want to be caught and seduced by a God, even if he may leave us in Europe?

Soul Mates

I have a personal reason for identifying with the Symposium story of soul-mates. The story goes that in the begginning, people were attatched to eachother. Really, though, we only think of them as attatched. They were whole. There were men, women, and androgynous beings. But the gods couldn't handle the humans so they were split down the middle and sewed up. The belly-button is where they were attatched. Now we are all looking for our other half, male or female depending upon who we used to be.
I like this story because ever since I was young I have played with my belly-button. I pet it, and find it soothing. I used to, and still do, do this when my tummy hurts. My boy friend thinks it's weird. I don't blame him.
But this is why I like the story.

"THIS IS SPARTA!"

So, like every person I've spoken to so far, I loved the movie 300. Due to my experiences in Classical Lit class, however, I'd like to think that I enjoyed it a little more than most. First of all, it was a myth, mythos, a tale. One told by the sole survivor of the 300 men. The actions of all characters were enhanced as in a tale, the wolf's eyes, for example, the ugly old priests on the mountain, and the height of the Persian King are only a few examples of the mythic quality of the movie. They also mentioned "hubris" the tragic downfall that comes from assumed greatness and imperviousness. In short, assuming you are a god and are not suseptable to the pitfalls of humanity. I liked that part.
The King of Sparta faced the delima of Individual vs Society because he could not disobey the oracle or the counsil's decision to hold a festival to the gods instead of defending hearth and home, yet he did. And that is why he fought with 300 "volunteers" instead of the army.
His wife faced the battle of Man vs Woman because she was not welcomed to speak in the arena on her husband's behalf soley based on her sex. She could also not fight with him nor ask him not to.
The general who lost his son went mad when he died. So he was haunted by the dead.
In short, though it's not "factual"...and what good story is?...300 was a good movie with many classical elements.

The Courtesean and the Anadonis

Let me begin by saying that I have nothing against The Courtesean. I liked Nicole Kidman's role in Mulin Rouge; I read and enjoyed Memoirs of a Geisha; and I love the mystery of Maralyn Munroe (aka Norma Jean). But I despise Anna Nicole smith and think her undeserving of the title courtesean. I would call her, much more vulgarly, a gold digging whore. Despite her title as Playmate of the Year, she was a stripper, who married for money and did nothing with herself when her husband died. She was on drugs, she was a joke. She was a joke until her death made her a victim. And this is what I hate, that people are trying to make her death tragic. I even heard from some media source or other that she died of an "accidental drug overdose."
Now, this is just me, but I can't see the tragedy in this. It's almost a relief: she was finally put out of her drunken/drugged out embearassment of a life.
I think of a courtesean as a woman who had no other options and capitalized on her value as a woman. The tragedy of the courtesean is that she never gains her freedom and cannot live her own life. Anna Nicole wasted her freedom and her life.
Elvis died of a drug overdose on the toilette: a true Adonis. No one thinks the less of him. He is The King.
Conclusion: even I play into the double standard that has been set. Elvis died on the crapper as a hero; Anna Nicole over dosed and I find it a release. (Steiner rears his ugly head once again to point out the conflict of Man vs Woman).

sex and the polis

While reading Lysistrata I suddenly realized why the play seemed so familiar. I believe that Samantha Jones, Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York, and Miranda Hobbs have had similar conversations about bikini waxes, the ideocy of men, and the power of sex.
When the show first appeared on HBO, critics and viewers alike raved about the audacity of the show to portray women as the equal of men when it came to sexual desires. As seen from Lysistrata, this is not a revolutionary post-feminisim idea. Sex and the City was one of the country's top commedies for six seasons and Lysistrata continues to be taught as an example of comedy.
as always, Girls Rule

The Triple Goddess

Well, classic literature is adding new demention to everything in my life...unfortunately it's creeping into my "mindless time". The other day I was watching the loquacious show Gilmore Girls when I realized that the three goddesses were represented in the show.
Rory, the maiden: Rory is the epitome of the waifish, chaste, breathy-voiced, innocent girl with big blue doe-eyes.
Lorelai, the mother: Lorelai is Rory's mother, her namesake, and she was split when she gave birth to Rory at the age of sixteen. Unable to bear her mother's domination any longer, Lorelai runs away from home after graduating from high school and begins her new life completely separate from her mother with Rory. She has no husband, so she cannot hold the position of the wife, and she gave-up her role as daughter when she left her mother's house. She is a mother, but she is still struggling with her own battles as a woman.
Emily, the crone: Oppressive, passive-aggressive, and completely selfish, she is Lorelai's mother, the older crone.

Metemphychosis and Elvis Presley

My boyfriend asked me the other day if I was reading a book about Elvis. "Um...not exactly," was my reply. The truth is, I didn't know for sure how to explain why Elvis graced the cover of The Baccae because I still thought of Dyonisis as the pudgy drunk god in "Fantasia". But Dyonisis, the god usually associated with wine and parties, is also the patron god of Drama and thus performance. He drives thebian women crazy, sending them into a frenzie which Pentheus fears to be an orgie. He is the god of fun but he has a dark side as well, as seen when he sends the young king to his death by the hands of his mother.
So, to connect the dots, Elvis - the celebrated hearthrob of the fifties, who's title is The King of Rock and Roll - died on the toilette after gaining weight and wearing gold jump suits. Definately a dark side. And who could drive young girls crazy? Elvis Presley. I'm sure that my grandmother still harbors a secret, undying love for him. But the most common defining attribute is that Elvis was a performer. (I should say, "is"...but I'll get to that in a moment) The public knew him only as a performer, as the heart throb, the rebel rocker, The King. And even though some people can name his parents and have seen his birthplace and been to his museum, Elvis, who he really was, is unknown to the public...even if the public crowned him.
But the most important connection...I'll call it the real connection...is that Dyonisis is also Adonis. An Adonis is a beautiful young man who dies a horribly tragic premature death. Examples are James Dean (*sigh*), Elvis, Steve McQueen, Jim Morrison, etc.

the living vs the dead

Last month, my sister's friend, an eighteen-year-old high school senior, committed suicide by hanging herself off of a bridge in her back yard. Before she died, she text messaged a friend some cryptic words and the friend, who did not know the girl's intentions, told the girl's parents. Her dad went down to the creek behind her house and saw her body. He tried to recessitate her, but her "knot intrinsicate" had come undone.
The real tragedy of such a hasty exit of the world, especially in the circumstances of this family, was the pain she left behind for all of her friends and her parents (who were only blessed with with one child).
After the initial shock of her friend's departure, my sister became very angry. The only thing I could think of to console my sister was that this girl - an honors student, and a legal adult - while desperate was not ignorant. She was very miopic in her purpose, and whether it was an act of vengance, self-pity, or despair, she knew what she was doing. But the living, the pained persons she left behind, will never know her motives; but they will be haunted by her untimely death.

Age vs Youth

I've read the book Tuedsays with Maurie and thought it was a nice idea. But I have never been able to communicate with an elderly person without explaining myself so much. But, really, I'm just thinking of my conversations with my grandmother. She's crazy, and not from a disease or old age, and not in the good way, more like she is stuck in her world and what revolves around her and if it doesn't pertain she ignores it. Unfortunatley, she doesn't have a sense of humor either. We are constantly misunderstanding eachother.
The most obvious form of her disreguard for who I am is manifest in her birthday and christmas presents for me. For my thirteenth birthday she gave me a grill-cheese maker...because when she asked me three months earlier if I liked hers, and I said, "yes" she thought I would like one as well.
If it were only one bad present, I wouldn't be writing a blog. When she gives me clothes she shops in the old-lady section, surely. Before I came to Montana, she gave me a "denim" vest - I say "denim" because it wasn't, it was cotton dyed to look like denim, the J.C. Penny kind of denim. The real downfall is that she manages to pick out very cute things for my mother and sister. Therefore I can only infer that she does this to me perposefully. She would, too, just because she doesn't understand sarcasm.
There are more stories but, I think I've made my point. Socrates was right, young and old are separated by more than years.

Things I love:

Love and the Symposium:
My best friend Ine Fahle lives in Oslo, Norway. We've had several discussions about how Americans throw around the word "love". Just listen to other peoples coversations: "I freakin love ____" is a commonly used phrase. By throwing around the word "love" it looses it's value. Ine said that there are two words for love, one refers to family and the other refers to life partners and true love. But she can count on two hands the number of times that she has said "love" to her parents, and she's never told a boy that.
So, even though I throw around the word love, knowing that I don't mean it, I've decided to set the reccord strait. These are the things and people in life that I do love:
Snow; warm showers; waffles with peanut butter and syrup; sandwiches; early morning runs; the early morning; new clothes; dressing up; compliments; sweatpants; vegging out with my boyfriend; my boyfriend; my sister; my dad; my mom; my brother; my friend Ine; my friend Anna; skiing; racing; apples; fresh bread; and The Blind Assasin. (it's a book).

Tragedy

I have a confession, I cried like a baby when I saw the movie Million Dollar Baby. I actually saw the movie on a first date, and when the boy laughed at me, and didn't shed a tear either, I didn't give him the privilage of a second date. :)
But why did I cry, what was so tragic, and how can I explain it without giving the movie away to everybody else? What is tragic, essentiall, is the sacrifice of the innocent. This is tragic because of wasted potential. It doesn't matter how their life would turn out, they weren't given the opportunity to succeed or fail. Children who die before their parents leave an unfillable hole. The essence of tragedy is unfilled potential.
(This does not, by the way, help me when thinking retrospectively about my ski season)
Maybe in this way, sophoclese is right, life is the real tragedy because we all have potential and sometimes, maybe more often than we'd like to admit, we waste the gifts we were born with.

What's love got to do with it?

So, true Love, according to Plato - as told through Sophoclese and Diotima - has nothing to do with sex? HA!
Let me back up. I thought that the Greeks were sexually enlightened, if not down right perverse in some of their rituals and practices. But the celebrated philosopher Plato, in his widsom, has declared that the basest form of Love is desire and sexual Love. Perhaps this is somewhat in keeping with the modern idea of emotional hierarchy, that infatuation is intense but fleeting and that true Love is infinate and pure. But to claim that the epitome of beauty and Love is sexless defies my understanding...but perhaps I'm not as enlightened or it's my hormones are out of control. Who knows! But my idea of Love allows me to believe wholly in a person, to accept the not so beautiful things in them and see those things as beautiful because that's a part of a person, and to desire that person because of the love felt. (Wow, how mushy!!!!)
But the problem is how to separate love from sex. One of my favorite quotes from the movie Almost Famous says, "Most of the great art in the world is about that very problem: Love disguised as sex and sex disguised as Love." The mix up can lead to destruction. Think of Scorceses' Casino, if you need an example. But the realization of true Love can lead to the best kind of happiness. Think of Robin Williams' speech in Good Will Hunting, when he said that his wife used to fart when she was nervous. He remembered the little things, because that was what intimace was all about for him. "The question isn't whether you're perfect, but whether or not you're perfect for eachother."

men vs women

The secret to the war of the sexes is that no one will ever win, the most we can hope for is an amicable agreement to try to understand eachother...or at least to restrain aggitation when the opposite sex doesn't know exactly what to say to make everything better. The key to the fundamental miscommunication lies with, well, the boys of course! They are always trying to fix things. I can't hold it against them too much of the time, because that's all they can think to do to help. And lets face it they can't do a whole lot else. Girls talk; they talk just to talk, and they only want a sympathetic ear. Another difference is that boys aren't analytical. Do you hear that girls? He means what he says, so when you say that you are "fine" he applies boy logic and thinks that you are in exactly the same state that you claim to be in. After all, why would you say that you are "fine" when you are not fine. As my recently enlightened male roommate said, Guys aren't cryptic because they can't solve girls puzzles. This is of course the Ying to the girl Yang. If a boy has ever been around a group of two or more girls after a first date or an important phone call or an "accidental" run-in, he would probably run the other direction. A good friend of mine recently ran into an ex in a restaurant. He was with his girl friend an another couple. However, and she stressed this many many times during the conversation, when they exited the establishment, her ex was walking next to his guy friend and NOT his girlfriend. From this minor detail, my friend surmised that there must be trouble in paradise. He could not, under any circumstance, love this new woman the way he had loved her. Why was he with her then? He must be unhappy. He approached her, so he must be trying to reconnect.
I didn't have the heart to tell her he was probably trying to be polite.
On the other hand, if we could always understand eachother, there would be no fights or making up!

Antigone

The purpose of this post is to test, because I don't know what Im doing... But my thought about Antigone is that although it's any ancient and sometimes dry text, I get completely caught up in the tragic poetry of her circumstances, and the circumstances of Creon - who would change things if he could but is bound by his own pride and law which would crumble if he were to go back on his word for Antigone. I love that all five of the tragic conflicts are present in the text: man vs woman, individual vs society, youth vs age, individual vs society, and mortals vs the god(s). The fate of Antigone is set, but she doesn't fight death and through her complacency, and even her obstinate fight for Justice, which demands for both her brother's burrial and her death, is an observance of what must be. In the Classical World, characters are masters of accepting responisbilty and consequences of their actions, perhaps a good lesson for contemporary readers.