April 10: "Enchanted," Low Blood Sugar, Fork

Well, I've been screening the Disney film Enchanted for my mythology classes this week.  One of the sections I teach really got into it.  The other section I teach already thinks I'm hopelessly lame, I think.  Therefore, showing that section Enchanted is like screening The Color Purple for a Ku Klux Klan meeting.  They are not impressed.

My thoughts are a little muddled right now.  I was having a slightly low blood sugar when I got back from school.  I started typing this post as soon as my double vision cleared.  It doesn't take too long.  Just a cranberry juice and two fruit bars.  As SpongeBob says, "I'm good, I'm good, I'm good."  He also says, "I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready," but that doesn't really apply here.

I'm feeling much better now, and my day is almost over.  I really want to just sit back, watch Gladys Knight get kicked off Dancing With the Stars tonight, and go to sleep.

Stick a fork in Saint Marty.  He's done.

I'm not lame.  I'm not.  Really.

April 10: The Future, Fear, Heap of Black

...It thrilled him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spectral hand and one great heap of black.

"Ghost of the Future!" he exclaimed, "I fear you more than any Spectre I have seen.  But, as I know your purpose is to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart.  Will you not speak to me?"

Did someone order small pox?

Obviously, this passage concerns Scrooge's first encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.  As Scrooge himself admits, he fears this ghost more than any of the others he has met during the course of the novel.  Of course, Dickens' depiction of the future (think Death from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life) does not exactly instill confidence.  In the Monty Python movie, Death is introduced like this:  "He's here about the reaping?"  In A Christmas Carol, the Future basically walks around showing Scrooge scenes of death and grief.  Not really pleasant stuff.

I think most of us fear the future.  I say "most" because I don't like to think that I'm the only person in my crowd who finds the "Yet to Come" a little, well, terrifying.  There's a reason why Dickens describes the third Christmas Ghost as a "great heap of black."  Black is impenetrable.  Black is mysterious.  Black is scary.

If you haven't noticed, things like taxes and finances and job interviews make me nervous.  It's the uncertainty.  The questions.  Will there be enough tax money to make it through the summer?  Will I get a raise with the new university contract?  Will my wife get a second job interview?  I prefer things a little  more definite.  Remember that I'm the guy who likes to know what he's having for dinner when he wakes up in the morning.  (For the record, Cornish pasties.)  I'm not John Keats, and I don't like living with negative capability.

The future doesn't speak.  It just points its bony finger and nods.

Therefore, I have Scrooge's back on this one.  I don't like the future.  Perhaps the reason Scrooge is such a skinflint is his uncertainty of what is to come.  He's been damaged by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.  He's the ant, putting away food for some unspecified winter, while the rest of us jump around like stupid grasshoppers.  I'm not saying we should all be assholes to every person we meet.  I'm saying there's a little Scrooge in all of us when it comes to the dusky shroud and ghostly eyes of the Spirit of Christmas Yet to Come.

Saint Marty just gave himself a full-body shiver.

April 9: Results of Taxes and Interview, Deconstruction

Well, the tax appointment went well.  It would have went better if there was a little bit more money coming back from the government, but I'm not complaining.  We're getting a substantial enough refund to make a dent in the summer finances.

My wife's job interview (all twenty minutes of it) went well, she thinks.  She will hear about a second interview by Friday.  She said the people were friendly and the working environment relaxed.  We'll just have to wait and see.  (As my three-year-old son says, however, "Waiting is not my favorite.")

You will notice that the second part of the post title is "Deconstruction."  The deconstruction to which I'm referring has little to do with Jacques Derrida and company.  It has everything to do with deconstructing the Stations of the Cross at church.  Now that Holy Week is over, the tables and displays need to come down tonight.  Thus, for an hour or so this evening, I will be engaging in an exercise of deconstruction.  You may interpret that text in any way you see fit.  I interpret it as a lot of drudgery at the end of a long day.

Saint Marty is both the signifier and the signified tonight, folks.

Derrida isn't going to help take down those signifieds of the Cross

April 9: "Carol" Dip Monday, Taxes, Job Interview

If it's Monday, it must be time for another Carol dip.  My question is directly related to an appointment I have this morning with my tax person.  That's right, I haven't done my taxes yet.  There's a reason for this fact:  the tax return money has to help me pay the bills through the summer.  If I had my taxes done in January or February, like most people, my tax return money would already be gone.  That would be bad.

My wife also has a job interview this morning at 9 a.m.  She's probably already on the road.  I'm hoping it goes well for her.  She needs a little shot of self-esteem right now.  She's been in short supply of it for a while.  If you think of it, send some positive thoughts/prayers her way.

So, getting down to business, my question this morning is:

Are we going to get enough tax return money to make it through the summer?

And the answer from the book of Carol is:

In time the bells ceased, and the bakers were shut up; and yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above each baker's oven; where the pavement smoked as if its stones were cooking too.

Well, that's a pretty pleasant passage, taking place in the stave about the Ghost of Christmas Present.  Aside from the final stave of the novel, this one is the most happy, filled with parties and laughter and love.  I can almost feel the Ghost standing over me, sprinkling my head with yuletide joy from his torch.  Therefore, I'm going to interpret this answer as a big, fat "yes."  There's going to be abundance of warmth and gladness in the coming summer months.

That was relatively easy and painless.  I actually like my answer.

Saint Marty couldn't ask for a better start to his day.

Lay some goodness on me!