Wednesday, May 2, 2012

May 2: Celebrating Wondertwin

Today, I wish to acknowledge my elder. 

Happy birthday, Wondertwin.  Thank you for keeping me honest when all I want to do is lie.  (By the way, you could let me lie every now and then.  It wouldn't hurt my feelings.)  Thank you for your fad diets, from SOS to Vegan.  Thank you for teaching me to laugh at myself.  Thank you for pissing me off.  Thank you for sharing your dreams around the breakfast table, even though said dreams make absolutely no sense, whatsoever.  Thank you for your epiphanies.  Thank you for being the blueberry and taking on the Great Eyesore.  Thank you for your hardboiled-egg meltdown.

Today, I celebrate you, Wondertwin.

Saint Marty is a better saint because of you.

All Hail, Wondertwin

May 2: Once Upon A Time, Fairy Tales, HEA

Once upon a time--of all good days in the year, on Christmas Eve--old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house.

After teaching Grimm fairy tales for the last half of the semester, this little sentence from the beginning of A Christmas Carol appealed to the mythologist in me.  First, the sentence places Scrooge and company squarely in the fairy tale realm.  That's one of the reasons why all the supernatural stuff works so well.  Upon hearing the phrase "once upon a time," the readers are predisposed to accept things like ghosts and phantoms and magical Christmas spirits.  Second, the phrase calls to mind story templates most readers are very familiar with.  Cinderella.  Little Red Cap.  The Big Bad Wolf.  Rumpelstiltskin.  We, as readers, know what to expect from these stories.  Third, "once upon a time" guarantees the use of an equally familiar phrase at end of the tale:  "happily ever after."  And we do get a phrase very much in that vein as the last sentence of the A Christmas Carol:  "And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

I think we all crave the stuff of fairy tales.  Magic.  Familiar narratives.  Happy endings.  We live our lives trying to attain these things.  We want magic--romance, money, vacations, perfect jobs.  We want familiar structures on a daily basis--breakfast, school/work, lunch, more school/work, dinner, recreation, bed.  Whether we admit it or not, we all like the familiarity of routine.  And any evil witch or wizard who interferes with that routine must be dispatched so we can return to our comfortable routines and attain...happily ever after, of course.  We're all searching for some sort of happiness in our lives.

Admit it.  You have a fairy tale in your mind for the trajectory of your life.  I do.  It's called dreaming.  And everybody, from Oprah Winfrey on down, tells us to live our dreams.

Here's Saint Marty's fairy tale:

Once upon a time, there lived a relatively young saint named Marty.  Marty was good looking, strong of spirit, and the best writer in the world.  He wrote every day--poetry, stories, novels, memoirs, blog posts.  One day, Saint Marty entered a poetry contest sponsored by the king.  The king loved the saint's poems so much, he gave the saint five bags of gold and the title of Poet Laureate of the Kingdom.

After a few years, a group of scholars in the far away land of Stockholm met behind closed doors and selected Saint Marty to receive the most prestigious literary award in the world.  The Nobel Prize.  People all over the planet rejoiced as beloved Saint Marty traveled to Stockholm to accept his honor.

When he returned home, Saint Marty continued to write his wonderful verse and prose.  People from all over came to Saint Marty, seeking his wisdom and advice.  Saint Marty lived 135 years. 

One night, Saint Peter came to Saint Marty, took him by the hand, and escorted him to the heavenly banquet table.  The Lord accepted Saint Marty with open arms, saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant." 

And Saint Marty lived happily in the ever after.  God bless us, every one.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

May 1: Doctor's Appointment, Car Appointment, Cough

I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon, as I said in an earlier post.  I'm not looking forward to it, but I'm also not enjoying feeling like crap or coughing up a lung every ten or so minutes.  Therefore, I will take the lesser of two evils:  I will dutifully strip in the doctor's exam room and be poked, prodded, and insulted.  After my physician has told me I need to lose weight, hopefully he will write me a prescription for something that will kill this sickness that has taken up residence in my body.

My car had a mechanic's appointment this morning.  It is completely healthy.  New oil.  New air filter.  Transmission's fine.  I think this is the first time in at least a year that I've brought my car in for an oil change and haven't been informed of some necessary costly repair.  I guess I should have switched mechanics a while ago.

Saint Marty feels a coughing fit coming on.  He's going to cut off this post before he manages to spatter sputum all over his screen.

Those would be lungs.  That would be coughing.

May 1: The Kind Hand, Change of Heart, Summer Schedule

The kind hand trembled.

Any person reading the above sentence, knowing that it comes from A Christmas Carol, could choose from a whole bevy of characters to whom this kind hand may belong.  Bob Cratchit.  Tiny Tim.  Any of the Cratchits, really.  Fred the nephew.  Fezziwig.  Belle, Scrooge's former fiance.  Fan, Scrooge's sister.  Not a single person would guess the actual owner of that hand. 

That hand belongs to...(insert drum roll here)

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.  Yes, the phantom whom Dickens describes as being silent and grave.  When this Ghost first appears, Dickens writes, "...in the very air through which the Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom and mystery."  There isn't a whole lot of kindness to be found in this manifestation at the beginning of Stave Four.  But, by the end of the chapter, the Ghost's hand, as Scrooge pleads for his life and future, begins to shake and tremble.   Kindness breaks through the gloom and mystery.

Today, things change for me.  I officially enter my summer schedule.  No more leaving one job to go teach.  No lessons to plan.  No quizzes to grade.  Just the medical office.  All day.  I'm looking forward to the change.  Yes, I just used the phrase "looking forward to" and "change" in the same sentence.  I'm not off my meds, and I haven't snapped under the pressure of finals week.  This is a change I expect every year.  I'm ready for it.

That is why the hand of the future, for me, is "kind" this morning.  It's pointed to May and June.  To summer and heat.  To swimming and 90-degree afternoons.  To long dusks and trips to the local ice cream parlor.  It's a future I know.  It's a future I'm comfortable with, for the most part.

Saint Marty hasn't had a change of heart about change.  He still hates it.  Saint Marty's just looking forward to a little sunshine.

I wanna hold your hand...