Film going: To the Wonder

Last night I saw the film To the Wonder.

I am still in awe.

This film follows the love and lives of an American man, Niel, and a French woman, Marina, who meet in France and move together to a small town in Oklahoma. We catch glimpses of their lives as their love waxes and wanes through time. The film weaves through the changes they face as a couple and as individuals. Beautiful moments and troubled times. Discontent and sublime happiness. Confidence and doubt. Tied into the tale are a love story between Niel and his childhood sweetheart, Jane, and the quiet struggles of a Spanish ex-patriot priest, Father Quintanna serving his parish in this small Oklahoma town. In much the way our characters seek to find, keep and understand their love, Quintana is reaching out for faith and for Christ, whom he has seemingly lost among the all too real lives of his congregants and the seeming lack of divinity around him. Though the characters overlap and their lives intersect, the stories remain separate and individual. Each unique.

The film is raw. Emotional. Narrated, vaguely, in turn by the various characters as they move through the phases in their lives and loves. As they struggle and question and seek and yearn for that which they cannot find or cannot hold on to.

It is also beautiful. Not just emotionally, but visually as well. The scenes are simple, yet at times take on an almost fairy-tale-like quality. Whimsical and flowing. The lighting and angles are gorgeous. Stark. Brilliant. Elegant. Dreamy. It is we, the audience, are half in a dream. In fact, the entirety of the film might be described as dreamlike. Hazy. The fragments one remembers after waking up. Unfinished and even, in parts, incoherent. Yet the moments are still surprisingly potent; the emotions inexplicably strong.

I recommend it highly...but know that this will be dreamy, emotional, abstract.. and the narrative sparse and elusive. I like that I guess. It was powerful enough to make me weep. So who knows, maybe you will love it too.

Helpless??

Years ago, in Cochabamba, Bolivia, I was standing on a street corner with my friend Jean, waiting for some people to join us. As we stood there, we noticed a girl alone on the other side of the street. And nearby, two young men. There was something odd about the situation. Or at least, it seemed odd to us as we observed the three. Suddenly, one of the boys went up to the girl and she seemed to be trying to get him to leave her alone. Then, the other one started running up. Not knowing what to do, I instinctively started moving towards them and yelling something.

But before I could see what happened, Jean grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away. She was terrified. And suddenly, so was I. Maybe it was because we had just been robbed a day or two before by four young men with a gun. Maybe it was because I had no idea what I would have done if there was some sort of trouble. Maybe it was because in reality, I wasn't sure if anything was going on and maybe I was just making a scene. But as we ran the other way down the street I was overwhelmed by a horrifying sense of helplessness.

I was useless.
Powerless.
Ridiculous.

Last night, I was left with a similar feeling.

While some friends and I were eating dinner in a restaurant, a man came by pulling a woman aggressively by the arm. She pulled her arm away and walked out in front of him. As everyone at my table exchanged confused glances, I saw them walk by the window. Again, he was violently dragging her along. I mentioned this to my friends and decided to go outside and see what was going on. They were arguing on the street. I stood there for a minute and then... went inside.

I wanted to intervene somehow. I wanted to say something. But I didn't. I went back to the table and sat down again with my friends and we all went on almost as if nothing had happened.

Something did happen though. And I regret my lack of action. I don't know if it was because I was a little frightened. Or embarrassed. Or feeling silly since no one else seemed to think it was a big deal (and I am, to my shame, really sensitive about being considered an "over reactor"). Or maybe because I just had no idea what I could or should do. Whatever the reason, I should have done more than just stand on the street for a moment staring at them and feeling unsettled and awkward. I should have acted.

This morning, still feeling upset over the incident from last night, I started to consider the problem. Mostly, I feel like I need more information (and probably courage too). I need to know what the right thing to do is. Can you just go up to someone and say, "Is everything alright?" Is that too weird and invasive? Or is that the right thing to do when you are concerned about a situation? So I did a little research. I am attaching a few articles (here and here and here) in case anyone else is interested in some advice on dealing with abusive situations in public. I feel much more confident to act now. And though I still feel guilty for doing nothing, I think if I see something like that again, I will know what to do.

Also, in honor of International Women's Day yesterday (coincidence??), while I am proud of the great strides women have made in our country an around the world, there is still so much work to be done if we want true equality and justice for all people. Just the fact alone that I was the only person in the restaurant who even got out of my chair when a woman was being dragged out by her arm (and still did absolutely nothing useful), reminds me that physical (and emotion and mental) abuse is still far too commonplace in our society. We ALL have work to do if this is ever going to change. I love this article about the need for men and women to work together to end violence and promote equality. This is a conversation that needs to be front and center in our lives. And luckily, there are some great people and organizations that are facilitating discussion and awareness and making incredible strides in our communities! This list of things you can do from ONE is a great place to start.

Because the truth is, we don't have to be helpless!

26.2

Birdie and I finished a marathon!

Last weekend my sister and I flew to Orlando to run a marathon with our aunt at Disney World. It was fun/hard/rewarding/painful/long/awesome/FINISHED! It was especially wonderful running and training with my sister and being there with my aunt. Plus, if you're going to run 26 miles, I suppose Disney World isn't the worst place to do it!!

I have to confess though, I don't think I'll do it again. Too hard on the old body for me! So, after marathon #1, I am officially retiring from my marathoning career. But I'm glad I did it once. Now at least I know I can. And that is something to be pretty amazingly grateful for!

My sister, aunt and I all done!

The whole running crew with our medals!
My aunt's running group let us wear their team shirts..
"Will Run For Food!"
Right up my ally.

LATEST UPDATE: Loss of reasoning abilities and moderation sweep country

Recently, there have been increased incidence of what are known as "hearing malfunctions" among United States citizens. From West to East and North to South, no population seems to be immune to this malfunction, and reports of it are increasing daily. Strangely enough, when this disorder occurs people across the country are listening to the same words at the same time, yet, despite written transcripts and the ability to replay the exact words, there is increasing disagreement on what is actually being said.

This is just one symptom of a frightening epidemic of what some are starting to refer to "Partisanitis." The affects are quite tragic, leaving victims seething and seizing in overblown fits of rage, indignation and childishness. And scariest of all is that the infected actually believe themselves to be in an increased state of awareness and accuracy--when faced with real facts and rational thinking "Partisanisia" seems to set in and only a very limited and selective portion of the world population, history and reality in general seems able to enter the affected minds. All other views are categorized as cruel, stupid, unrealistic, ridiculous and even evil.

The epidemic is characterized by the following symptoms:

First, the disease seems to start with a slight eye problem, wherein everything begins to look not just black and white, but actually distinct shades of red and blue. Interestingly enough, personal opinion strongly influences the side affects of the afflicted patients. Depending on ideas and feelings of the patient, either red or blue begins to produce extreme feelings of anger, resentment and distrust. It is also associated with emotional outbursts and unreasonable characterizations of people and ideas associated with the unfavorable color.

Next comes the earlier mentioned hearing malfunctions. These are directly related to the color associations. When a person or group is associated with the upsetting color, everything said is understood by the affected mind as an evil attempt to destroy lives--often the patient believes the words are a direct affront to their personal well-being and value system. On the other hand, when a person associated with the other, favorable color speaks, there is a feeling of calm, approval and support. This feeling may be produced at times through actual evidence, but is generally founded on nothing more than vague statements that cannot be tried, proven or substantiated in reality. As, in fact, are the upsetting statements.

However, the most disgraceful and tragic side affect of Partisanitis occurs when the infected persons begin, as if driven and unable to control themselves, to attempt to spread their disease to as wide an audience as possible. This takes the form of unpleasant and often embarrassing statements strewn across social media sites, sickeningly falsified data published in advertisements and across the news, internet and posted on bumper-stickers, and much more. People speak as though there were no alternative perspective and as though those associated with the negatively perceived color were actually devil possessed and seeking the demise of the entire human population. Or at least certain populations deemed important by the affected persons.

All inhabitants of the United States are encouraged to be on guard for signs of Partisanitis in themselves and those they know. It is suggested that when these disturbing behaviors are observed that they be ignored and the person displaying them pitied. While Partisanitis tells the victims of the disease otherwise, it should be stated that there is no secret plot by any person currently seeking to be elected as President of the United States to overthrow the government, wreck the lives of all humans and destroy the world. And while those suffering from the affects of this ailment will try to convince you that one color-associated person or another is actually, as one patient of partisanitis put it, "hiding your true motive to make America weak and vulnerable," these are the ramblings of sick minds.

Unaffected citizens are asked to calmly review facts, make logical and reasonable decisions, discuss issues and listen to the views of other unaffected, rational people with respect and dignity. It is not advisable, under any circumstances, to attempt a reasonable, rational or logical discussion with any person suffering from Partisanistis. There is no cure except for what can be called an "epiphany" of reason that takes place within the patient. These are rare and miraculous but do occur in some more evolved patients. In the meantime, we must be patient and hope that by the end of November our families, friends and associates will be restored to their normal selves, as is often the case (though sadly, some of the infected are irredeemable even outside of election season).

Be careful out there!

Disclaimer!!!!!!

Experts are still debating the actual diagnosis of Partisanitis.

It has not been officially recognized by the  AMA.

However, due to high and increasing incidence the author wishes to bring 

the matter to the attention of the innocent.

It should also be mentioned that the author is 

NOT IMMUNE

to her own moments of Partisanitis.

She also does find it encouraging and beautiful that many people

have become interested and involved in the election process.

She only wished they would be more civil.

And less disgusting.

Ya know?

The moment:

Suddenly the boys I've ordered across the room, in a final attempt to deter their note passing with the girls in the classroom next door (through a very inconvenient sliding door connecting the two classes), seem more suspicious than usual. They have all starting humming a familiar song that I can't quite place my finger on. This is when I notice the sliding door moving slightly, apparently on its own. Then I catch it, the boys are humming "mission impossible." One of them has crawled all the way across the room on all fours and is attempting to slide the note under the door.

That's when I realize: It's all one big joke. For them, my every attempt at order and authority is a game they are trying to beat. They already know I'm harmless.

...

I am reading a book right now* in which, amongst many other things, a woman starts teaching high school, but is not a certified teacher. And boy can I relate to her:

"My first day [teaching high school] had gone as smoothly as anybody could reasonably hope--no revolts, no crises major or minor. Still, I couldn't put a finger on what it was, but standing in front of a roomful of high school students seemed to use up a ferocious amount of energy. It made me think of those dancers in white boots and miniskirts who used to work bars in the sixties, trying desperately to entertain, flailing around like there was no tomorrow."

Yep. That's about right.

*the book is Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver,

if you wan to check it out.

ps. not all of my classes are like that.

and I have actually learned to love teaching.

but then there are those moments...

I'm not sure if I want to laugh or scream.

I feel GREAT!

On my last day in London, on Easter, I had the terrible stomach cramps. The I think I might pass out/throw up in the middle of the street kind. So I picked up some Ibuprofen at the drug store and popped my usual 2 pills*. After about 45 minutes I was feeling fantastic! Really perfectly, wonderful! I commented to my friend that these pills really did their job! I was thrilled.

It wasn't until just now when I looked in my medicine cabinet at the ibuprofen I had brought with me from the US that I realized that the pills I took in London are double the dose of my normal medication (200mg to the usual 100). So... oops. hehe.

But if you happen to be wondering, taking the equivalent of 4 ibuprofen IS effective for pain relief. You will feel spectacular. Though I don't know if it is necessarily advisable on a regular basis. Still, thank goodness for those pills or I would probably have spent my last day in London writhing in pain.

God bless the beautiful UK!

(and her double dose drugs!)

*just in case you're worried:

the box said I could take 2 of the double duty English ibuprofen,

so I probably won't die.

yet.

Revelations

They say that if you rinse your hair in cold water after a shower it will be shinier.

The thing is, when I tried it I realized is that I have no chance whatsoever of holding up under torture. I can't even handle standing in a cold shower for three seconds.

Why that was the thought that came to my mind, I'm not sure, but I couldn't get the image of Jennifer Garner in her TV series Alias out of my mind. Do you remember that show? I used to watch it with my mom and I remember enjoying it. Now, reflecting back (with my vague and possibly inaccurate memories of the show) I can't quite recall the appeal. In fact, in recent years I have become exceptionally averse to most forms of violence on TV or in movies. I make exceptions when I feel the film or documentary has a particularly important and thoughtful message, but I at times find myself repulsed by action films and super-hero movies. To me they seem so careless; so crude and ugly and sad. Often these films seem to trivialize the real effects of violence, conflict and war. They tend to paint good and evil in clear opposition to one another; everything is black and white. Sometimes we even want people to die, or we don't think twice when there are people left injured or killed on the sidelines. For me it's all rather sickening.

I can't recall exactly when or why my view of these depictions started changing. Probably about the time I went to college and just a small piece of the protective bubble of privilege I have always lived within lifted to show me something of what reality looks like outside of my own little world. And the more I read and see and learn the less entertaining violence becomes and the more upsetting it is, even if it is just "pretend." Because I know that often these films are nonchalantly depicting horrors that really happen. Or if not, they are showing violence in such a casual manner that it seems like a slap in the face to every man, woman and child who has truly suffered--whether it be from war or genocide, rape or domestic abuse, or any act of hatred or anger or meanness. It doesn't seem funny or entertaining or glamorous anymore. It turns my stomach and makes me morn for the society we live in that can turn a blind eye to real suffering and then, for financial gain, use stories of violence as a form of entertainment.

I know sometimes I take things too far. I can be a stick-in-the-mud and read too much into things. But I think sometimes, too, we don't read enough into things. We don't think enough about what we see and hear and read and learn. We disconnect from reality and let ourselves pretend that everything is well. And lets be honest, we all know it's not. I promise, teaching a teenagers is a great way to be reminded yourself of how gloomy things can potential be (the little downers!). Yet in truth I am really hopeful for the world and for society. Even though I am disappointed that the progress and advances in our societies have often only led to more destructive weapons and wars; to new kinds of dominance and oppression; to greater disparities between the rich and the poor.

But I don't think it has to be that way. I don't think we are destined to be hateful and selfish and violent. We have a choice and I believe that we can, and I hope that we will, change for the better. It comes down to the decisions we make and the way we choose to see the world and those we share it with. It comes down to how much we are willing to change and adapt in the name of the better good. I think in some ways we are going to be forced to change in the near future. But I hope we will also choose to change because we care about the world we live in and we see others as equally valuable as ourselves.

Anyway, that's what the kind of thing you think when you freeze your brain in the shower in the hopes of shinier hair. It's dangerous business.

I hate groundhogs and their stupid holiday!

Six more weeks of winter? Please tell me there has been some kind of mistake!

I have officially reached the "I can't take it anymore!!!" phase of winter. I think it is a February thing. It happens something like this:

First, all of the shiny, bright winter moments have come to an end. Christmas is over. And New Years too. And all the left over excitement from these holidays has faded during the course of January, along with the decorations in store windows and the pretty lights in the streets. The only thing left is gloom (i.e. cold).

And the snow, if there ever was any, has lost any trace of its former magic and charm. It is now just a dirty, mushy inconvenience that makes miserable cold days colder, and wetter. And it's gross.

Also, all of my clothes have become unappealing as well. I am tired of them. They are boring and ugly and I am sick of them all and of layering them on top of each other. Every pair of pants, every sweater and coat, every long-sleeved article of clothing and every boot and closed-toed shoe has become repulsive, yet inescapable.

And shopping is out of the question, because even the idea of leaving the house at all is now extremely distressing. Getting dressed in those awful clothes then voluntarily entering that terrible dark and dreary world of coldness outside of the house? No thank you! At this point, I would rather not go anywhere at all, or even leave the warmth of my bed, until the daily temperature is at a steady 70+ degrees.

And just to make the whole situation worse, February seems so promising. In Arizona it's already warm, so I start thinking springtime must be just around the corner. And those deceivingly sunny days that look like Spring, but then destroy you with their biting chill are almost enough to drive someone mad. Plus Valentine's Day claims to be all about love and pinks and reds and friends and joy. But it's all a hoax- I'm beginning to feel it is impossible for love to even exist when it is so freezing cold!!

No. No, there is nothing beautiful or lovely left in this season. It is all downhill from here.

Six more weeks of winter? Just tell me it isn't true. I don't know that I can last that long.

Measurements

I have a love/hate relationship with pants. Yes, pants. Of any kind. Jeans, slacks, stretchy pants, sweat pants. You name the kind and I both adore them and despise them.

I love pants because they are comfortable. Because they keep me warm. Because I can wear them without shaving my legs for weeks (or months) without grossing people out. Because I don't have to worry about how I sit when I wear them. Because they are easy. Because they are versitile and can be worn for a casual affair or be dressed up for work or a nice outing. Because they come in many styles and colors. Because they are generally accepted as a normal mode of dress in my culture.

I hate them because THEY NEVER FIT.

And no, that is not an exaggeration.

Being here in Spain has only exasperated the problem further. Since there are hardly any dryers in Spain (which is great for the environment, but rather inconvenient for laundry procrastinators) my pants don't even have the benefit of a good shrinking after washing, and are thus constantly too big and sliding down. And yes, I have belts and I know that's what they're made for. But I hate belts and wearing them makes me depressed (which is another story completely and you can ask me about it some other day if you wish.. one rant is enough for now).

So, I am stuck with the problem of having short, saggy, baggy-in-the-butt pants. And I just wanted to share that with you today.

Happy Monday!

Dangerous!

A few days ago I saw the sign featured below. And not long ago it would have been simply hilarious. (Because, yes, I know it is trying to say watch out, there are children here so you should be careful. But that's not what it says. And what it says is funny.)

Now, I am less amused. Because I know when a sign says DANGER: Children what it really means is, watch out, these germ machines are just waiting to breathe their poisonous air all over you. You will now suffer pain and inconvenience while they, at worst, get to stay home with their mommies and watch TV all day!

I now know that as a teacher in Spain, getting sick is not that easy. You not only have to make sure you get in touch with someone at the school and explain to them in Spanish that you can't come in because your voice doesn't work and there are slivers of glass in your throat, you also have to find a doctor who can write you a note of excuse--which requires tracking down a doctor, finding a way to get to the doctor's office and figuring out your insurance--which in and of itself requires making phone calls and trying to talk to people in Spanish to explain your situation--all while your head is threatening to explode, you are burning alive/freezing/sweating/shivering, and it feels like you are trying to swallow several knives at the same time.

I think that puts the tally at...

Children: 1134 points

Kendal: 0.2 points

They really are dangerous beasts!

And just for everyone's peace of mind:

In the end my school let me NOT go to the doctor,

which made my life infinitely easier.

And I am already feeling much better!!