Feminism v. Twilight

Let me preface this by saying that I really enjoyed reading Twilight. It’s fantastic mind candy. I gobbled it up in like three days. Recently, I read an interesting article that brought up some points I think are worth thinking about. Even though I liked it, there’s some parts of it that you have to wonder about.

Point 1: Edward can seriously be a jerk.

A lot of girls are completely in love with Edward, but a real-life guy who told you you couldn’t go visit your best friend would not be OK. Furthermore, who wants to be told what kind of car they’re going to drive? Yeah, Edward seems oh-so-sweet and attentive to Bella’s needs, but there’s serious problems with the way he commands her. Which leads us up to point number two…

Point 2: Edward controls the sex.

The problem here isn’t their abstinence, by any means, it’s that every decision is Edward’s. When Bella will become a vampire, when they’ll make love…these are decisions that are exceedingly pivotal in Bella’s life, but somehow her decisions are less important than his. We don’t need another example of sex being used for control, from either gender. But here sex and the Big Fat Scary Sex Metaphor (that’s Bella being bitten, for those unsure,) are both used by Edward to create “conditions” for Bella to meet.

Point 3: Edward and Bella have a profoundly unhealthy relationship.

No duh, you’re probably thinking. But the thing about it is, so many teenage girls are reading this and are really jumping on this idea of what love looks like. I think that’s a pretty serious problem. Love isn’t when you completely lose your identity for someone. I’ve been in love. Twice. At no point in those 4+ years would I call myself “nothing” without them. When Edward leaves, Bella is completely non-functioning for months, risking death just to hear the hallucination of his voice.

None of this is probably new thinking to many people, but here’s the thing. I (and several of my friends) read the series up in a couple days. We could get swept up in it and enjoy it, but it didn’t stop us from being the hardcore awesome feminists that we are. (Hooray.) But is it affecting the way teenage girls see themselves and their role in relationships?

I know not many people read this, but to the few that do, I’d really like to hear your opinion. Is it a problem for teenage girls to get into a novel with such a weak female protagonist whose whole life is controlled, or should we just be glad they’re reading at all? Do you think girls’ infatuation towards Edward makes them more likely to gravitate towards dominating, possibly abusive boys? Or do you think what I’m saying is way off base?

I QUIT! Wait...this could be OK...

So my cooperating teacher wasn't here again today, which was going to be just fine. I've done lessons by myself before, so today was kinda going to be pretty standard. First, with the Symphonic Band. We worked in full rehearsal for a little while, then split them up into sectionals.

(At this point, I should probably comment that we had a two-hour delay this morning due to a boiler malfunction, so they were already a little crazy. And in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have split them into sectionals. Whatever.)

They kind of lost their minds.

Every sectional I went around to, they weren't doing anything. With the exceptions of the trumpets and the percussion (has anyone noticed that crazy irony?) everyone was carrying on, not doing what they were supposed to.

As I'm going around, I go into the office, where the saxophones, trombones, and bass clarinets were.

They had the TV on.

I was so mad I couldn't even speak. The kids just sort of stared at me for a second, like they couldn't believe they'd just been caught and wanted to know what happened now. I was working very, very hard to keep from collassaly erupting.

"Go back into the band room."

That's all I said to them. I went around to all the other sections, calling them back into the band room. Then I plugged my metronome into the speakers.

"Allegro to the end."

They played it, and, predictably, screwed it up.

When they got through, they sat there, dead silent.

"No one played that perfectly. No one in here. Everyone messed up some note or rhythm, everyone got off on the tempo. So why were you not working on that in your sectionals?"

(Miraculously, no smart-ass called my bluff on the rhetorical question. Hooray.)

We started over again, and the fact that I was basically restraining myself from completely losing it went away as I worked with them on a few individual notes and rhythms. I ended it with something along the lines of, "I really like all of you and you've done hard work, but I can't not be mad when I walk into a sectional and everyone's talking. I can't not be mad when someone has the TV on." I told them that they had come along way, but they had to continue it to get any better and all that jazz.

Directly after that (with no break, because when we have a delay it's one right after the other,) Wind Ensemble starts coming in. I tell them straight-up that second period was very exhausting, and asked them to work hard because my nerves were completly frayed. I told them if I snapped at them and it seemed off, it was just because my temper was short after this morning. So we warmed up and they went immediately into sections.

They were fantastic. They (almost all) worked hard the whole time they were in sectionals. They seemed to get thing accomplished. And when we pulled them back together to play through the slow part in The Hounds of Spring, it was gorgeous. I've never heard them play it that well, and it was wonderful. Then the few things we fixed in the development part were quick fixes, and they adjusted fast and well.

So I discovered that it's possible to go from my-eyeballs-are-going-to-explode contained fury to complete contentment in less than an hour. Yay, band.

Ireland, Time Travel and Obama...

Last night I dreamed I would regularly go through this window-type thing (think: Subtle Knife) and it would take me to a place in Ireland about fifty years ago.

(Pauses for processing.)

Well, I was talking to Derrick James on the phone while I was in Ireland (which, incidentally enough, is a non-existent spot that has shown up in other dreams) when I suddenly realized how freakishly high the rates would be. So I ran back to the window only to find that someone had closed it up.

I have no idea exactly how all this tied together, but somehow the person who closed up the secret window did so to trap me and others in Ireland to do nothing but play video games all day. There was some devilish plot afoot to ruin our world and keep us from stopping whatever this person was doing by dulling us down and having us play all day.

For some strange reason, Obama was also there. I was trying to explain to some Irish girl how Obama was really one of the greatest world leader of our time. Her general attitude was that our world must completely suck.

You could kind of see her point, since Obama just played DDR all the time.

Finally I started to realize that maybe it was a little bizzare how we had all the games ever made, but we were fifty years in the past. I think somehow we were trying to find our way back, but I woke up before then.

...

Doesn't my brain frighten you?

Full of Win

Yesterday Mr. Bennett wasn't feeling to great, so he went home and left me to run the low brass sectional. There was one hella hard part (and when I say "hella hard" I mean "slightly tricky for a young Symphonic Band") that they were struggling with.

After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I finally wrote a measure of straight eighth notes on the board. "Clap this."

They do. I took away one eighth note, writing in a rest.

"OK, now clap this."

They do, actually (gasp!) with the exact right space between the rest! I repeated this process of removing eighth notes until the rhythm they're fighting with was on the board.

"OK, now the way you think about this is that you still feel the notes you aren't clapping. You keep the beat the exact same way you do when you're playing, you're just doing it silently."

Lightbulbs! It was fantastic! Then, not only did they play that rhythm correctly, they played ll the others rhythms they were messing up right!

I could have danced. I think I did dance, actually.

But I am le tired...

Dear College of Ed,

While I appreciate what you are trying to do with this "daily and weekly reflection" thing, and I should muse on the things I did correctly and poorly this week, and I'm supposed to write a couple paragraphs about the differences between classroom management and discipline according to the Gospel of Harry Wong, I can't freaking do it right now. I understand that it's supposed to be an important part of the process, but the only reflection I want to see right now is the inside of my eyelids. Which isn't even a reflection.

I just taught two full classes of over fifty kids for over an hour each, and I am seriously considering torching my shoes. So I say this with all the love in the world: shut the hell up.

Love, Amanda.

Student Teaching!

I have begun student teaching at West Stokes High School, NC. Even though the drive is every bit as miserable as I thought it would be (about 45 minutes each way) it's been a fantastic experience so far. I don't feel like I'm quite as ill-prepared as everyone said I'd be ("You don't learn anything until you student teach!") but I don't feel like I'm rocking it out, either. I feel overwhelmingly average, which pretty much blows.

I'm trying very hard not to think about my mission intern application, which is in the far-away land called New York and completely out of my control.

What's so special about 2008?

This was a pretty major year for me. But then again, at this stage of life, what year isn't major? We're in pretty formative times, you know.

Instead of trying to recap, I'm just going to put in some random journal quotes. They're basically chronological, and it was more fun than re-musing.

Fun quotes from Amanda's journal in 2008:

"I don't think I'm going to talk very much. I say that, but I lack a natural "shut-the-hell-up" gene."

About a dream: "I got to the end and he was there, and my double, the one who put me up to all this, maybe me and maybe not, stayed behind. And I knew that I was going to die, leave the real one behind. And I didn't speak, but I made him promise to never tell. And he didn't speak, but I knew he wouldn't. And I suddenly realized what made him look so serious--he was the one who knew, who always knew, would never speak, just carry it."

"I chilled out in BeansTalk, and Amanda Smith came and joined me. It was so nice--a very chill time to just be, relax and doodle in the thick book and not worry about things for awhile."

"What's more important? The absolute deity of Jesus? Or the way people treat each other?
I know my answer. And I don't think it's such a terrible one."

"We played a game--a person would ask any question, and everyone would answer it. It was so awesome, just to be free with answers and life and being outside and not too cold, moon and stars occasionally revealing themselves behind a thin curtain of cloud. It was a really amazing night of connection."

In an education class: "We are now discussing what mermaids sound like. For at least three minutes. I'm not really here, am I?"

"Currently, Lilac and Sean have hypothermia, Naomi is in a coma, Endeath is winning, Gaia's somewhere in Maine, and Carlos is the lone person hanging onto consciousness. Quite fun, in all honesty."

"We are the secrets of the world, we are the pieces of life, we are formed enigmas wrapped in cotton. We are silence and fire and creation and destruction, the closest thing to God seen on earth."

"The other night John and I went up and snuck into Howard's Knob. It was remarkable and it was real, and with the wind so fierce looking over Boone's valley I just felt intense and unstoppable and powerful, human, whole, real. And it doesn't matter what the core of humanity is--what matters is being alive."

"Flying out on a Wednesday offers a much different dynamic than flying out on a weekend. Instead of vacationers, businessmen take up most of the space. Surrounded by them all, with their suits and Blackberries, zooming impatiently in their BMWs and Mercedes, always in a rush, I am so grateful that will never be me."

"I get the impression a lot of them feel sorry for me. It's weird...I want to shout, "Really, I am happy! I am well-adjusted! I have goals and dreams and plans that are going to happen--don't feel bad for me!" Sigh. Just the silly Christian again."

"Wither is done! First draft--about 2 months, one of which was February. Pretty good for me."

Dream: "I nearly got caught by one (booby trap) on the way to the front porch. I asked the girl up there how she got through, and she said, "I had faith in God." My response was basically, "Huh. Yeah, well, I'm gonna go disable these."

"Word of the class--paradox! Whatever it is, it's a paradox. Bonus points because it has an "x" in it."

"I'm voting for Clinton in the primaries. If Obama gets the nomination, I'll vote for him in the general, because if he is the anti-Christ, maybe he can fix the economy."

"Difference between last semester and this semester--last semester, I couldn't get my head above water. This semester, I just don't give a shit."

"You've won, College of Ed! You have officially killed any excitement I had about teaching with pointless discussions of things that don't matter, ignoring the actualities of what a classroom requires. You have aided me losing my drive to do anything worthwhile. You have successfully turned me into another half-assed, effort-free college student that I used to despise. Thank you for helping me understand, through worthless discussion classes, that the goal is not to know your subject area, but just to sound like you know what you're talking about.
While you're reading this, I'm going to go get wasted with my fellow classmates (even though in a past life I would be studying my subject matter) because I don't give a shit anymore.
Love, me."

"Maybe if I get hit by a car they won't make me come back. Maybe an earthquake will strike Boone. Maybe a fire will start that burns down only campus buildings. I should just shoulder it and go on like always, but you know? I'm just not that good. Sorry. I am bitchy and short-term and personal. I can't take the high road about this."

"Yeah. No worries. I'll just slip back into spiritually bankrupt, honors-student experience.
I am tired of these games. How am I supposed to fix myself when everyone around thinks I should stay broken?"

At a private singing session in Ireland: "It's almost like a pause in time. No one was in a hurry to leave, or glancing at their watches every few seconds. People weren't antsy--this was the most important thing in the world. While they were there, nothing mattered except the voices, filling and connecting the space inside. There are two or three women whose voices are so pure, so beautiful, who sing with such heart-wrenching feeling it seems impossible the world outside could still exist."

"God is breaking me. Because I am in a pathetic stage now, a stage of doubt and self importance and organized chaos. I am in selfishness, self-righteousness, pride beyond pride.
And he's breaking me from it."

"So much drama over a freakin' pussy."

"Oh yeah, yesterday we took the kids swimming. I got tackled and stomped in the face. Hooray."

"Dani is not at all afraid to include perfect strangers into our conversations and games. Starbucks--"What if three hot guys want to sit with her?"

"God's voice...is it deep, echoing off the mountains and valleys He created? Would it be high, ethereal and sweeping as the purest soprano, free of vibrato and sounding like clear crystal? Would it make the strongest tremble, or weep?"

"THIS IS YOUR LIFE. This is not a study in human behavior! This is not a series of books or poems! Hike! Breathe! Laugh! Play! God is EVERYWHERE singing! A voice so full of joy and pain and endless, endless love.
You cannot observe that. You cannot meta-cognate that. You are only in it.
You wouldn't think it would be so easy to forget."

"I have to have faith.
I have to believe that God is leading me.
So I will. Even though sometimes I'm scared and thinking things like, after this season I may never go to a football game.
I'm way more scared than I thought I was. But there was a great quote at Convocation: "Almost anything worth doing is scary."
But I wasn't expecting it. It's so real, so soon."

"My recital is terrifyingly soon. Stop. Breathe.
(Um, prior to breathing let's learn your music.)"

"I really, really suck at this game, by the way. And everything is foggier while extremely sleep deprived. Part of me is saying no. Part of me is saying if you don't break it you'll be like this forever."

"You'd think we'd bring out the worst in each other, but it's like two negatives make a positive. As long as we're good for each other, I guess I'll leave it alone."

"Have I mentioned this is fun? Because this is a lot of fun, this whole dating-someone thing. I almost forgot it was worth it."

"'Cause this is THRILLER!"

"I am a junkie.
Success is my heroin. A little taste of it--the attention, the acclaim, the pride--and I'm looking at potential relapse.
But what do you do when your smack is something you want to work for? How do you survive when the only way your soul can live is to fail?"

Quote from John: "Why do I feel like at the end of next semester we're going to be eating ice cream and watching sad movies together?"

"I need school to be over. Really. It will suck to be away from here a little bit, but it won't be snowing. And I won't be sitting through bullshit classes anymore."

"More, I think this is part of the peeling, part of the me to become more who I am. I feel like another artificial piece has been taken off, getting me a little more to the center."

(BTW, I'm tagging Connie in this because even though she wasn't mentioned by name, she played a HUGE role in my thinking and loving in 2008, and she's one of the two people I am unspeakably grateful to have grown closer to.)

That says much more about what I thought through the year than what I did. I did a lot--went to Ireland, New York twice, preformed the Concerto, had my recital, started dating someone for the first time in three years. (Actually, started for the first time in seven years.) I got close to HannaH again, in spurts. I went Geocaching and saw Danielle Hall and played the waltz at my high school. I met people and made enemies, drifted away from people and permanently knit towards others.

I've never been so happy, looking back over becoming.