How to hit on a girl on facebook

Fake dick pics. Every girl's dream.

First of all--welcome. Second of all, read this first.

Here's how NOT to hit on a girl on fb: 

1. Asking her how her day is going.

Hey :) How are you?
Good, how are you?
You know, just chillin. :) :) :) :)

2. Talking to her on fb chat about sex, sexting, or your penis.

3. Asking her to check out your shirtless pics and rate them on a scale of 1-10.

4. Asking her if she's a lesbian. (Yeah...that's why she's not interested. Right.)

I realize that in the last post I mostly just ranted about what I don't like--namely, being hit on on facebook, mostly by guys I've just met and barely know.

That being said, I thought maybe I'd add some how-to tips for those dire occasions when hitting on a girl via facebook is the only available option.

First a caveat: hitting on someone via fb is neither the most direct, nor the most efficacious way to go. Calling or asking in person is preferred.

That said, here are some things to keep in mind: 

1. If you don't want to be her friend, don't add her as a friend.

Instead, message her, text her or call her and ask her out (see #5). This way, you won't have to hit that "defriend" button when she responds unfavorably to your online advances. 

2. Be direct. 

Instead of asking her how her day is going, ask her if she wants to get coffee sometime or otherwise meet in person. State your intentions in so many words. 

3. Be clear. 

My friend's blog has a great take on this (and there are pictures!). If you want to see her, have a time, place and activity in mind.

4. Get to the point. 

This may be a repetition of the second item, but even so. It's better to arrive at the point immediately than to drag on a conversation about the weather in the hopes of slowly winning her over with your wit, charm and tasteful use of emoticons. It may be easier to keep up witty banter online, but these interactions are not necessarily an accurate reflection of in-person chemistry. You don’t have to tell her how much you like her or compliment her on her awesome bathroom-mirror-photography skills. Get to the point. 

5. Ask her out.

By which I mean, arrange to actually see her in-person. In this day and age, there's a good chance your paths may never again cross. Ask her out. I mean, why not? It’s intentional, upfront and unequivocal. Maybe you only met in person once and you don’t know her that well yet. Dating is a way to get to know someone better. Sure, it's intimidating, but heck, it’s just coffee/tea (it’s also not just coffee/tea, but it doesn’t have to turn into anything more if you don’t want it to. It’s up to you). Your next date may be only a fb message away. 

If you don't ask her out, guess what usually happens. Nothing, that's what. 

6. Be prepared to hear “No.”

…and respond graciously by withdrawing your suit. No harm, no foul. Plus, it’s over fb, so it’s no big deal. A facebook “no” is worth about 1/5 of an in-person “no” in humiliation value. 

I think this item might be the crux of why guys don't ask girls out--on fb or otherwise. Yeah, rejection sucks. Stereotypically speaking, guys bear the brunt of both the asking and the being rejected. However, I'm not sure that the more subtle rejection girls experience is any less ego-crushing than hearing "no." 

7. The "like" button and other soft forms of facebook flirting

I have not covered here soft methods of flirtation such as commenting on her fb status or posting random funny pictures on her wall. I don’t really see the harm in this, but again, it’s awfully indirect. 

I would advise against ever typing things like "HAWT" or "NICE RACK ;)". First of all, if a girl is posting multiple down-the-shirt pictures to her profile, she already knows she's hot. Second of all, do you really want to be part of a hot girl's online harem? This is starting to feel like a blog post for a different time...

And that's it! That's all I've got (again). Go forth and hit on that special someone this holiday season. 

I lose respect for you when you hit on me on facebook

Hey there. Yeah, you, hot stuff. I have a confession to make:

I lose respect for you when you hit on me via social media.

But really, is that even fair? I mean, in today's world, how often do you even meet people outside of your work and primary circle of friends? How often do you get the chance to chat up that cute girl you met at the Christmas luau?

But oh look, one of you just added the other as a fb friend.

Let the coquetting begin.

So yeah, maybe I'm not being fair or realistic. Tough. This is my blog. So with that, here's a few of my non-favorite facebook flirting things:

1. There's no risk. 

People do and say things online that they would never do or say in person. Why? It's less risky. Less risk = Less respect. It's that simple. I know it's old-fashioned, but as a girl, I want to believe that I'm worth more than a "hey there" on fb chat. Maybe it's like a test, the "will you do more than hit on me online?" or "will you risk rejection?" test. Not a fair test. But still.

2. There's no reality. 

The virtuality of facebook makes it easy to pretend, easy to posture, and easy to poke that cute guy you've been pining after. There's a lack of reality to online interactions; an invisible curtain between virtual life and real life.

I'm not saying that actions and reactions online don't resonate and reverberate in real life. Trust me, they do, sometimes for the worse. The "facebook feedback loop" can manifest in welcome and unwelcome ways. But for me there's always that shock--that jolt of recognition--when the virtual and the real collide.

3. Would you please get to the point already? 

There's often a lack of clear direction to online hitting-on. The worst has to be fb chat. Please don't hit on me via fb chat. In my opinion, fb chat is the LAMEST way to hit on someone you barely know EVER. If fb chat is the only place you have game, just don't.

The vague asking-me-about-my-day but never asking-me-out thing annoys me. For a guy, chatting with a girl via fb chat can be a way to fish for her interest in him without taking even the remotest risk. Lame.

4. There's no clarity. 

I've had guys ask me out on fb only to...not ask me out. What? There are just so many questions. Like, why is this guy talking to me? Is he hitting on me? Expressing mild interest? Passing the time at work? Just chatting? Wait, why is he asking me if I'm single? It's too much. These guys usually end up deleting me anyway after I make my lack of interest (un)clear. Thanks...Friend.

5. There is a double standard.

This is horribly sexist of me, but I don't think these things apply to the opposite scenario of a girl hitting on a guy via fb. That's totally cool. Unless guys hate it. Please weigh in, gentlemen.

[Caveats and disclaimers: To all the guys who've asked me out via fb, kudos and respect to you. Also, none of this applies if you're actually in a relationship with someone. Please, if you are, poke away.]

That's it. That's all I've got. So before you get your mack on on your Mac or your pickup game on on your PC (say what?), consider: are you hedging your bets by not taking a risk or being indirect in your attentions? Do you want her to be more than just your fb friend? Tread with care.

Think before you flirt.

An Unwritten Post About Masculinity

Men, men, manly men

• There seems to be a lot of anxiety about masculinity these days. 
• Witness "Last Man Standing," "How to be a Gentleman" (cancelled), and "Man Up" (cancelled). 
• Compare "New Girl," "Two Broke Girls," "Whitney." 
• The shows with "Man" in the title are imperative (man up!), prescriptive (how to), or direly descriptive (last man). 
• See also The Art of Manliness, a blog about the "lost" art of manliness.
• See also John Eldredge and Wild at Heart. 

No boys allowed

• What is the definition of a real man? 
• Does a real man have a certain physical build? 
• Does a real man hunt and fish?
• Does a real man ask girls out on dates? 
• Does a real man provide for his family and hold down a steady job? 

Answers, please

• Mark Driscoll on Marriage and Men
• Pickup Artists
• Hugo Schwyzer on "The Opposite of Man is 'Boy' not 'Woman'"

Summaries for the lazy

• "Get married. Have kids. Work hard to support your family. Buckle down, son." 
• "Have sex with as many women as possible." 
• "If we really are in a 'man crisis' in America, I suspect it’s rooted as much as anything else in this fundamentally mistaken belief that manhood needs to be about rejecting anything that smacks of the feminine" - Hugo Schwyzer

"Masculine Malaise"

• Men were dominant, now they are not (or not as dominant). 
• They are sad about this. 
• They are unable to express this sadness forthrightly or publicly. 
• They resort to misogyny or masculine malaise. (See also Schmidt in "New Girl")
• They write shows with titles like "Man Up." 

In which I have opinions

• I think Driscoll's vision of masculinity is kind of a drag. Plus, if your wife has to work to help support the family, you've pretty much failed. As a man. 
• Machismo is not masculinity. 
• I don't believe in a platonic ideal of manhood any more than I believe in a platonic ideal of womanhood. 
• Women feel a good deal of pressure to look a certain way. They feel less pressure to measure up as a "real woman." 
• I think fundamentalist Christianity might be the exception to the previous bullet point. Proverbs 31 anyone? 

An unwritten conclusion 

• Prescriptions or imperatives about being a real man or woman should be approached with skepticism. 
• Certain culturally specific gender roles tend to engender passivity--or, if men would only start acting like men or women like women, I could get on with my life. 
• If you need to do something, do it. Man up. Woman up. Ask him/her out. Provide for your family. It's doubtful that whatever you're supposed to do in this moment is directly related to your gender identity. 

Five Things I Learned From Watching Seasons 1-4 of Grey's Anatomy

This is not an attempt to justify the hours I have spent watching this show, nor to deny the trashy, soap-operatic nature of its content. Ahem.

Suffice it to say, I very recently made my way through the first four seasons of Grey's Anatomy. Here's what I learned:

1. "Use your words."

The characters of Grey's say this to each other a lot--which is funny because they're all extremely articulate. Huh. Frankly, this imperative is a good reminder for me. I'm good with words. I'm not good at expressing my feelings. In words. Out loud. To other people.

2. When in doubt, write a monologue in which a character has an emotional epiphany and conveniently highlights the theme of the episode.

Some might call this "cheating" or "laziness on the part of the writer."

I call it genius. Sure, in real life the person you're ranting to rarely stands eyes wide and mouth agape as you aphoristically sum up the event's of the day. Small detail. These monologues are the thematic glue holding each episode together. Dramatic subtlety be damned.

3. The law of promiscuity and diminishing dramatic returns.

Have you ever noticed how the longer a TV show goes on, the more hookups occur between the primary cast (e.g. "That 70's Show," "Friends")?

I would hazard that the weaker the dramatic premise and/or episode specific storyline of a show, the more likely two previously unconnected characters are to suddenly begin a sexual relationship.

Writers do this to heighten the dramatic value of an episode. However, the more promiscuous a character/cast is, the less their sexual relationships mean emotionally and dramatically. Kind of like in real life.

So, what is invoked to increase dramatic value actually decreases it.

4. Sex and the unbearable whiteness of being

Grey's Anatomy boasts an impressively diverse cast--and by diverse I mean ethnically. Average/ugly people were not invited to this party.

Intriguingly, the shade of a character's skin seems to be co-related to number of sexual partners. How do I say this--only the white characters seem to be allowed to sleep around, while the minority characters are frustratingly monogamous.

5. Everyone has issues.

There's something about Meredith Grey. There's something about Meredith Grey and her emotional blankness that feels authentic.

That's what I've learned. And I'm only on season 4.

Lose Yourself: Submission, Emotional Abuse and the Dorothea Effect

[I'm having a hard time writing this. I'm not sure if it's because my ideas haven't coalesced or because I keep seeing connections everywhere--in a way, I think in writing I figure out what I want to say--I start in in one place with one end in mind and then end up somewhere completely different.]

Holy Not Happy - An Unnecessary and Misleading Dichotomy

"What if God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy?" asks the subtitle of Gary Thomas's book Sacred Marriage. 

It's a sobering thought. I suspect it's written as an anecdote to those Christians who divorce because "God wants me to be happy." 

However, both these conceptions of happiness seem suspiciously shallow. Surely there is more to happiness than the mere absence of physical, emotional or psychological pain. 

If God doesn't just want me to be happy, does that mean he wants me to suffer? So I can be more holy? If that's the case, the more marriage makes you suffer, the better. 

I'm taking it a little far, but I think the subtitle in question sets up an unnecessary opposition of holy versus happy, or being a person of character versus being happy (in a deeper sense) with your life.  

I also think that this opposition can be twisted into a justification for either perpetrating or enduring emotional abuse.  


The Problem with "Twilight" or  The Lure of False Submission

I was in an emotionally abusive relationship once, in a professional, not a romantic, context. And there's one thing that the other person would say to me that sticks out in memory: "I believe in you."

He meant to imply that as much as I failed to live up to my potential, if only I would give in to him and do what he said, I could be better. I could be more holy: "Let me control you and everything will work out."

As much as it stings my pride to admit it, there was something undeniably attractive about this offer. I knew I was flawed. That I screwed up. And here was someone honest enough to call me on my crap.

If only I could be better. If only I could stop failing. Maybe if I submitted my will to his, I would stop hurting people and actually become a better person.

It's the "this is for your own good" line of abuse--and there is something subtly alluring about letting go of responsibility for and control of your own life, your own dreams, your own being. I don't know how else to explain the success of "Twilight," which trumpets the kind of all-consuming love that demands the loss of self in the Other. I know only that self-immolation and self-abnegation are a temptation--particularly to those who feel less than whole to begin with.

The Dorothea Effect - It's About to Get Literary Y'all

Dorothea Brooke is a character in the novel "Middlemarch" by George Eliot. At base, she is a crusader without a crusade, a missionary without a mission field, a saint deprived of martyrdom. Being so, she makes her own martyrdom, choosing to marry a dourly pedantic and humorless man (Edward Casaubon) over twice her age, so that she might help him in his great, world-changing work, "The Key to All Mythologies" (as bad as it sounds--worse, actually).

Of course, if she were a man in nineteenth century England, her ambitions and ideals would find an easier outlet. As it is, she makes a disastrous marriage to the wrong man--dare I say because she desires holiness (to serve God by serving Casaubon) over happiness (in the sun is shining, birds are singing, isn't it a lovely day to be married to a hot young artist sense. *Spoiler alert* this happens later in the book).

Jane Eyre faces a similar temptation in the form of the handsome and deeply religious St. John Rivers. He asks Jane to marry him and follow him to the mission field as his help-meet. He does not love her, nor does he find her attractive. He simply sees that she is constitutionally and temperamentally suited for the rigors and challenges of missionary life. How romantic.

Adrienne Rich calls this the temptation of self-immolation--literally burning oneself alive.

Jane is tempted to a living death--sacrificing her life to St. John's missionary calling; denying her need to love and be loved by marrying a man for holiness and not happiness.

Dorothea falls into this temptation. Jane does not.

I would define "the Dorothea effect" as denying your own dreams/art/work/calling to serve the dreams/art/work/calling of another person.

In other words, find your own damn "Key to All Mythologies."

More to come on this later.





Inspirations:

1. This article about the end of a Christian marriage.
2. A talk at church (for women) about submitting to God's will.
3. Sacred Marriage by Gary Thomas (which I haven't read in full). 
4. Middlemarch by George Eliot
5. "The Temptations of a Motherless Woman" by Adrienne Rich.

Stalking v. Courtship: 10 Signs You Should Back the #&%* Off

I appreciate a persistent man. Heck, I love the thrill of (being) chased. But stalking is not courtship.* Harassment is not courtship, despite Christopher Hitchens' eliding of the two in his article about Herman Cain.

In the spirit of charity and good will, here's a handy list of 10 signs that you may be stalking or harassing your intended significant other and not, in fact, winning them over with your persistent 1am texts.

Your attention may be unwanted if...

1. You show up unannounced on his doorstep with a two-liter of Mountain Dew and a DVD.

2. After meeting her for the first time, you write her a lengthy email declaring that she is the love of your life--and you don't just mean in a sexual way.

3. You gift him a handmade ceramic sign with his name on it it "for his bedroom door."

4. You tell her, "Your boobs look amazing."

5. You take pictures of him surreptitiously during a party, then send a casual email with the pictures attached.

6. You grab her butt, then pretend nothing happened. 

7. You get slapped with a restraining order. 

8. You try to kiss her. She pulls away. You try again. 

9. He changes his phone number. Five times. 

10. She tells you to back the #&%* off.

*In a perfect world, here are some other things that would not be considered courtship: 

1. Liking someone's status on fb.

2. Texting "hey."

3. Saying, "You wanna come over and watch a movie?"

I like you but I hate your script

In high school, I had a boyfriend who dreamed of becoming a successful guitar player and singer. I can't speak to his guitar playing, but his singing--well, let's just say my mom once charitably compared him to Bob Dylan. We eventually broke up--not over his singing.

I like you. But your singing makes me cringe.

In college, a friend had me read her script. And I hated it. Perhaps "hate" is too strong of a word--not the word, for instance, that I used when describing how I felt about it to her face. But, well--it wasn't my cup of tea. It wasn't my cup of anything. I thought it was crass, poorly written and derivative. The spelling and grammar mistakes made me cringe. I really, really didn't like it.

I didn't tell her that, of course. I said encouraging things, like "Your descriptions are so vivid" and "I like the character progression in the second act." This seems like good politics generally: pick out the things you like and say something good about them. And I did that. Bullet dodged, or so I thought.

However these tentative words of encouragement had an unforeseen consequence. The writer, my friend, thought she really had something. She started talking about submitting it to agents and production companies. She emailed me, asking for proofreading help so she could prepare it for submission. And my slight, forgivable lie (really an omission of the truth) trapped me in a cycle of dishonesty. How could I tell my friend at this point that I loathed her script? And the more uneasy question, how did I show support for her dream while doubting deep down that she was a good writer?

I like you. But please don't make me read your script.

A friend and I joked about writing a translation guide for friend feedback:
"I liked the beginning and ending."
Translation: "I hated the middle."

It's the fine art of reading between the lines.

Flannery O'Connor famously said, "Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them." And yes, there are probably quite few people who fancy themselves writers who perhaps should not write.

Bad writing tends to get the worst of me--makes me rant and rave, at least internally--especially if other people don't seem to agree that it's bad.

I remember in college we had to write an essay about a poem. I thought the poem was poorly written, sentimental, and stilted, and when my classmate came into class and mentioned that she'd liked it, it set off a question bomb in me. (A question bomb is a question I feel like I have to ask or I'll explode.)

"Is it good?", I wanted to ask my professor. Is this poem good?" I have to know.

But why this drive to know whether something is "good" or not? Not "Do I like it?" but "Is it good?"

I do believe in an objective good and I do believe in good and bad art. But so what if someone disagrees with me about one poem?

The problem with "I like you but I hate your script" is that, as a friend pointed out, that's like saying "I like you, but I hate your soul." And what if that's true? Hypothetically, let's say that I meet a cute guy. And hypothetically, I read some of his poetry. And my reaction is "Dear God."

It's not so much that I could never date someone who writes bad poetry. I write horrible poetry. It's that I couldn't pretend that I thought it was great poetry.

If I'm honest, I think the question "Is it good?" can be traced back to the deeper question of "Am I good?" Or, "What if I'm not?" It's all mixed up with pride and an anxiety of value. I need to know that there's value not only to what I write, but to who I am.

But I am not the ultimate judge of good and bad--for me or anyone else. "Am I good?" If I can answer this question first, maybe I can let the rest rest.

And if I can do that, maybe I can just do the work.






*Distinctions:

In this post, I should make a distinction between critiquing the work of friends and critiquing the work of a significant other or potential significant other. These are different.

Also, there is a difference between judging a product (poem, short story, etc.) and judging the producer of that product.

Hugging and the Single Girl

Don't hug me, I'm awkward. 

Hi, I'm an awkward hugger. It's a gift/curse that only seems to get better/worse with time. 

Hugs vs. Handshakes

Have you ever noticed how persons of the male gender, when they are leaving a social event, will shake hands with the men and hug the women? I'm guessing shaking hands = respect and "you are my equal," hugging = friendly affection and "You are so cute." I'm not claiming that the hugging is necessarily condescension on the man's part, but it does seem as if women are generally perceived as more huggable (e.g. non-threatening) than men. 

One guy offered up the explanation that men don't want to shake hands with women, because women aren't usually very good at it. And plus, men are perverts. 

I have been occasionally fooled by the "bro hug"--the kind that starts with an extended hand as if to shake, then pulls you in for the one-armed embrace. Tricky, tricky. 

Side Hugs, or Is Hugging Dangerous? 

I remember complaining to a friend that the insistence on side hugs made me feel as if hugging (me) were dangerous. We attended a Bible college program in which side hugs between guys and girls were the rule. On one rare occasion when I accidently non-side-hugged a guy,  he pulled back in semi-panic. 

"Hugging is dangerous," she said. I had no reply. I've never heard anyone come right out and say that hugging leads to fornication, but this seems to be the rationale behind side hugs. Side hugs are safe and fraternal. Side hugs say, "I consider you a friend and nothing more." You can't hit on someone with a side hug. Or can you? 

Based on a one friend poll, girls are less likely to hug guys that they like. So don't go getting any ideas. 

You might think that guys are the hugging opportunists. However, I have a vivid and funny memory of another friend asking a cute European guy to show her again how people in his country say goodbye (or hello?) with the hug, cheek kiss, cheek kiss, cheek kiss combination. Practice makes perfect. Wait, now I'm not sure who the opportunist was. 

Speaking of cheek kissing, you know what's awkward? Going in for a hug and having the other person go in for a cheek kiss. This is the kind of thing they don't warn you about in study abroad orientation.

First Date Etiquette

One guy ended a first date by asking, "Awkward A-frame hug?" I side hugged him. I never saw him again. 

Another guy decided that a fist bump was the way to go. I never saw him again either. 

I prefer no hugging on the first date. I don't like you that much yet. Sorry. 

The Theology of Hugging

Yes, there is a such a thing, of which Matt Jensen does a great job of explaining here via Miroslav Volf's Exclusion & Embrace.  

Things I glean from this theology: 

1. A good hug requires emotional vulnerability. No wonder I'm not a huge fan. 

2. A good hug is consensual. This goes without saying. 

3. A good hug ends eventually. Ditto. 

"Hugs not Syllogisms" 

You know what is inimical to hugging? Thinking about it. Analyzing it. Writing about it. It is nearly impossible to execute a sincere, non-awkward hug while simultaneously stressing about whether or not it's expected. 

Well, reader. It's been great. Are we supposed to...crap. 

<<awkward_cyber_hug>>

Passion and Plastic Water Bottles

So, I'm working on this shoot and the weird thing about it is there's no drama. I mean, I suppose there are little bits and pieces of it, but barely enough to register a blip on the dramatic Richter scale.

I'm used to drama on set. Outbursts. Catastrophes. Fits of pique.

Stuff goes wrong. Stuff always goes wrong. But the root of all drama, I've decided, is ego.

When I'm working on a project--unless it's my project--I usually can't see the big picture. I'm focused on my tiny little corner of responsibility.

I think I'm fairly good at being single-minded, focused.

This kind of tunnel vision is awesome as a writer, director, editor. But as a below-the-line (?) person, not so much.

I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, but I have been passionate--passionate--about the consumption and waste of bottled water on set. Because I drove to Costco and bought that bottled water, dammit, and now you have the nerve to leave it lying around after drinking one lousy sip!

I had passion without perspective. I was scaring myself.

It could just be simple pride: My work is important. My work is more important. I am more important.

(And I doubt that the opposite is apathy and neglect, necessarily.)

I care. But I don't want to care so much that it gets in the way of doing my job or treating people well. I want passion without ego. Dedication without contention. Persistence without perfectionism.

I want to invest everything I can, and then let it go. 'Cause even if it's mine, it's not mine. I don't have the big picture.

The Mythical Nice Guy

I have become convinced that there really is no such thing as a "nice guy"--the emotionally crippled, the perennially passive, the socially awkward, the impressively f-ed up, maybe. But nice guys? No such thing.

Have you ever pondered the nice guys on TV? Take Ted Mosby for instance, the main character in the sitcom "How I Met Your Mother." Ted is a romantic. He believes in true love and finding The One. He's also kind of an a**hole. But that's just it. He's not an unrepentant womanizer like Barney, nor is he a one-woman man like Marshall (is the correct word here "whipped"?). He's alternately cowardly, lustful, chauvinistic and predatory, but because he's really just trying to find his soul mate, he's a nice guy.

Has a friend ever tried to set you up? When the date goes badly, they say, "Oh, but he's a nice guy." This can be translated roughly as: "Oh, but he's not a serial killer or a rapist." Never mind that he has an elbow fetish or the clap.

Why is there no equivalent nice girl? (Usually this just means she's unattractive.)

Nice guys are the necessary fictive counterpoint to the a**holes that women supposedly always go for. They are the guys who are not just trying to get into your pants. (Is it just me, or is the bar set pretty low?) The rationale goes: "I'm a nice guy, but women only like jerks. Therefore, I am single." I won't bother poking holes in that potato.

This nice guy myth wouldn't be quite so irritating if there did not seem to be practically a moral imperative to find, date and marry one. 

O nice guys. You are the stalker that won't take "no" for an answer--yet wouldn't hurt a fly. You are the guy that asks me out, then spends the entire date talking to the wall. You tell I'm beautiful, then call me a bitch for turning you down. You like me, but you act like you don't give a crap--'cause giving a crap would be too scary.

You would ask me out or listen when I say "I just want to be friends" or act like you care or treat me like, I dunno, another human being. But you're just too nice.

Stop it.

How Not to Waste Time

"Query: How contrive not to waste one's time? Answer: By being fully aware of it all the while. Ways in which this can be done: By spending one's days on an uneasy chair in a dentist's waiting room; by remaining on one's balcony all of a Sunday afternoon; by listening to lectures in a language one doesn't know; by traveling by the longest and least-convenient train routes, and of course standing all the way; by lining up at the box-office of theaters and then not buying a seat; and so forth."

-from The Plague by Albert Camus

This passage made me laugh.

Nostalgia and the Unreflective, Active Present

"Live all you can; it's a mistake not to. It doesn't so much matter what you do in particular so long as you have your life. If you haven't had that what have you had?" 

This is perhaps the most famous quote from Henry James' The Ambassadors. And that's certainly understandable.

I recently listened to Juliet Naked, another book by Nick Hornby, and I groped my way back to this quote.

The heroine of the book, Annie (age 39), has lived very little. Stuck in a dead-end relationship with Duncan (40ish, a drip), Annie feels she has wasted the last 15 years of her life. This is a shock.

She wants to live. She very much wants to have a baby. By random chance, she begins an email correspondence with a cult rock musician. Then she actually gets to meet him in person and he comes to stay with her in her small, depressing seaside town in England.

You may see where this is going. When confronted with the choice of whether to sleep with him or not, a minor character delivers a speech similar to the one in James' novel.

But sex aside, what does it mean to live? Unless it means wearing really short shorts and sitting in a book warehouse, I'm not sure that I'm truly living at this moment. And what about the moment after that? What about now?

I'm afraid it's quote time again, straight from Annie's brain, courtesy of Hornby's narrator:

"The cliche had it that kids were the future, but that wasn't it. They were the unreflective, active present. They were not themselves nostalgic because they couldn't be. And they retarded nostalgia in their parents. Even as they were getting sick and being bullied and becoming addicted to heroin and getting pregnant, they were in the moment. And she wanted to be in the moment with them. She wanted to worry herself sick about school and bullying and drugs."

That phrase, "the unreflective, active present" is striking. I feel most alive in my unreflective, active moments. Anything that takes me out of myself--like writing or filmmaking.

I leave you with another part of that famous quote in The Ambassadors:

"The right time is any time that one is still so lucky as to have [...] Live!"

Light of My Life

I almost just finished listening to Lolita (performed by Jeremy Irons) and I'm not sure quite what to say about it.

The novel is brilliant, obviously. But having listened to it via audio book, what I really want is to read it via book book (visual book?). In other words Lolita makes me miss the textual, word-on-the-page experience of reading. 

Nabokov crams in gads of verbal puns and other delights, many of which I'm sure I didn't get. I suppose any reading of Lolita must also take into account the mean spirited nature of much of the humor:

"I had glanced at her as she smiled in her sleep and had kissed her on her moist brow, and had left her forever, with a note of tender adieu which I taped to her navel--otherwise she might not have found it."

Still hilarious.

And then there's the subject matter. I'm struck by the ease with which Lolita is transformed from a 12 year-old child to a 15 or 16 year-old adolescent, both in the film versions of Lolita (1962, 1997) and the imagination of the average person--a "Lolita" is usually well past puberty. The ease is striking because of the lengths that Nabokov goes to elucidate Humbert Humbert's interest in the physical immaturity of prepubescent girls.

This is all very unsettling--as it should be and as Nabokov intended it to be. Why then have we taken the book and turned it into the prototype for one of the conventional sex interests of men? Because it's more titillating and less horrifying?

If I could assign a few companion pieces to Lolita, I would assign a short story by Milan Kundera called, I think,  "Let the Old Dead Make Room for the Young Dead" and a short story by Doris Lessing called "The Habit of Loving."

"How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company?"

This audiobook version of "Their Eyes Were Watching God"  is superlatively good. Just amazing.

I had wanted to read "Their Eyes" after listening to an essay by Zadie Smith in her collection "Changing My Mind." In this essay, Smith writes about the universal literary tradition vs. the particularity of blackness--of female blackness. In sum, "It is not the Black Female Literary Tradition that makes Hurston great. It is Hurston herself."

I'm reminded of several things:

One, in my American literature class at community college we read "The Bluest Eye" by Toni Morrison. A classmate (white, sheltered) began wondering out loud whether or not black people were too invested in feeling sorry for themselves. The professor got upset.*

Two, a columnist in my college paper wrote in response to a lecture on God and black suffering, "We're talking about black suffering again?" or something to that effect.*

My American literature professor used to make a point about subjectivity--that saying, "You can't understand this book because you're not ____ (black, white, female, etc.)" is a fallacy.

It's like saying you have to be white, male, middle class and born in the 1930's to get "Rabbit, Run" or have lived with seven men of dubious appellation to properly decode "Snow White."

Hurston writes in her essay "How it Feels to be Colored Me":

"Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me."

And so, maybe its not just black suffering we talk about, but human suffering.

Speaking of pleasure, this is one of my favorite scenes from the book:

"The sounds lulled Janie to soft slumber and she woke up with Tea Cake combing her hair and scratching the dandruff from her scalp. It made her more comfortable and drowsy.

'Tea Cake, where you git uh comb from tuh be combin' mah hair wid?'

'Ah brought it wid me. Come prepared tuh lay mah hands on it tonight.'"





*I mean, slavery was SO two centuries ago.

The Best Contraception

I can't get over the way posh English speakers pronounce the word "condom." They pronounce the "dom" as in "dominate" or "domicile" whereas American speakers pronounce it as in "wisdom" or "freedom." In the British pronunciation, both syllables end up having equal weight.

Try saying it out loud: "con-dom."

Now say it ten times fast.

I've been listening to the audiobook version of Nick Hornby's "Slam," a British YA novel about teenage pregnancy. The word condom comes up a lot.

I had just finished another book about teen pregnancy, "After"--as in after the 15 year-old protagonist dumps her unplanned baby in the trash. Yeah, hard-hitting stuff.

And so "Slam" launched me on the second half of my unintended teen pregnancy double feature, one told from the girl's perspective and one told from the boy's.

I can tell you this: listening to "After" made me never want to get pregnant. Even as a non-teenager. No way.

I liked "Slam" better. Nick Hornby ("High Fidelity", "About a Boy") has a way of making immature and clueless male beings sympathetic and even likable. Fundamentally, Hornby is a funny writer. His female characters are less fleshed-out, but this might be the by-product of first-person narration.

Hornby also wrote the screenplay for "An Education," which is told from a teenage girl's point of view. I don't remember "An Education" being particularly funny. Maybe I need to watch it again.

In conclusion, perhaps the best contraception of all is a book about getting pregnant at 15. That or a conDOM.

Things I wish I liked more than I do

The beach. Card games. Beer. Running. Hiking. Physical exertion of any kind. Large groups of people. Vegetables. Eating healthy. High heels. Small talk. Skiing/snowboarding. Dressing up. Going out. Studying. Museums. Art museums. Walking. Airports. Sightseeing. Texting. Dogs. Taking showers. The Beatles. Talking on the phone. That's what she said. Pictures of my friends' babies on Facebook.

On listening to "A Scanner Darkly" by Philip K. Dick

The book is a few funny/poignant anecdotes floating in a morass of paranoiac, hallucinatory ramblings.

Also, I'm glad that "balling" is no longer used as a synonym for, um, you know.

Addendum 11/7/11:

It would be remiss of me not to mention one hilarious episode in this morass: After ingesting a number of pills in order to die, one of Arctor's buddies finds himself trapped in an endless hallucination in which God takes him over each and every one of his sins, from the beginning. "Know your dealer," he intuits.

Also, there is Donna's rationale for rejecting Arctor's sexual advances, which I won't repeat here, revolving as it does around smuggling drugs and a certain part of the female anatomy.

Objectification and Men

Some friends and I were talking about the ways in which men objectify women--not in the sexual sense, necessarily, but in the sense of desire and projection.

A man will project onto a beautiful woman his conception of "the perfect woman." So, it's not about a mutual recognition and attraction, but about, "You are beautiful to me. Can't you see that I find you lovely?"

Perhaps this is the correlative of the "So you're saying there's a chance!" phenomenon. Hope springs eternal. But when is he pursuing a fantasy instead of a real girl? Why won't he take "no" for an answer?

When a man takes rejection personally, it's as if he's saying, "Your un-acceptance is unacceptable because it's a reflection on my worth."

But then, women objectify men too, where the "object" in question is the wedding. The groom is interchangeable. Wedding magazines are "porn." There is a TV show called "Say Yes to the Dress."

Today, I watched a court case where a young woman called the cops on her boyfriend because he wouldn't propose to her, even after she had thrown an elaborate engagement party. She was, as everyone agreed "crazy." The judge questioned her motivations: Is that love? Threatening your boyfriend so that he finally proposes?

The man is perhaps the only part of the ceremony that is not an object. The dress, the cake, the flowers. All objects.

[Note: The court case was entirely fictional. There was no claim that this was something that actually happened, but was rather written for entertainment value only.]