Saturday, April 30, 2016

The Offspring of Disobedience

One more night (working on my final paper for my Master's).




Very cold end of April.



Hoping I've been able to wring sense out of these books & various articles & endless notes...to bring something new to bear on motherhood and the imagination (through 18th-century seduction novels). These past two years culminating in a project that keeps tearing me away from mothering, as I read maternal theory, ponder medical theories of monstrous imagination, wonder if I can borrow Carla Freccero's "fantasmatic historiography" to interrogate the persistence of a perceived divide between creativity and procreativity (Susan Friedman's terms), to try to write another history. 

Oh yeah, and this: 

"They all wanted to settle down into a perpetual and phantom coziness. They were all at heart sentimentalists—and sentimentalists, Yeats said, are persons 'who believe in money, in position, in a marriage bell, and whose understanding of happiness is to be so busy whether at work or play, that all is forgotten but the momentary aim.' Accordingly, they had all opted, long ago, perhaps at birth, for the domestic life, the enclosed life, the restricted life—the life, in brief, of the daydream."—Cynthia Ozick, 1969

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Who gets served?

My physics professor friends sent this link along: Are Today's Parents Getting a Raw Deal? As in Susan Greenfield's article about having it all, these concerns inhere to a privileged class, but lots I agree with in her post. Really, as Rhonda Stephens explains in the post, in many ways it's the spoiled kids getting the raw deal, missing out on the chance to learn coping skills, delayed gratification, independence, endurance, and I would add, appreciation for what they have. 

Everything is over the top now. We went to a charming, small-town St. Patrick's Day parade and the people in the parade hurled candy at the watchers the entire time. At first I thought it was a lollipop here or there, which seemed okay, but no, the kids came home with giant bags of candy, like Halloween. If that's St. Patrick's Day, what does that do to Halloween? And what does that do to the kid the next time he watches a candy-less parade? All he'll be thinking is: Where's the candy? 

People shower the kids with gifts now, too. Multiple gifts for holidays, including holidays that never used to be associated with giving gifts. Random gifts just on any given day. Our babysitter brought a brand new pink plastic doll house for Petra a few weeks back. I was so frustrated (so was Wally, who didn't get a gift -- but now that I think about it, maybe that was a more valuable lesson), but I was frustrated because I have been saving in the closet the beautiful, only slightly graphittied wooden dollhouse my parents gave my nieces a few years ago and now my nieces are passing along to Petra. Now, how can the stowed way, handed down, slightly-graphittied wooden dollhouse possibly have the same effect?

Do I sounds like a whiny, spoiled or maybe even curmudgeonly parent to even raise these concerns? Woe is me! My kids get too many toys! Holidays are too much fun! Too many people love my kids and shower them with presents! Yes maybe I am whining and spoiled wanting, in my own nonmaterial and non-materialist terms, the ideal childhood experience for my kids. But that doesn't negate the fact that there is a real price of all this consumerism and consuming. And that our kids are the ones who have to pay it. That's the real point, not that the parents are getting the raw deal, but that the kids are.

Even my mom, who so generously buys Easter candy and stuffs a million eggs, buys too much. There are always so many eggs per kids, with tons of unstuffed candy left over. Profligate. Simple supply-and-demand economic principles expose the real cost of too much: How can any single egg have the value that it would previously have had? They're not just missing out on lessons in grit, but they're missing out on the joy of having something you really want, or even of wanting something you never get. There is a distinct lack of joy that attends this embarrassment of riches, epitomized by the spoiled child stamping his or her foot, crossing her arms, surrounded by mountains and mountains toys. 

Many more examples I would like to give of kids being over-indulged, more processing of this raw data I would like to do, but I can't now, so I'll just shoot this out there:

Someone in favor of all the too-much-ness of everything, the literal spoiling of our children, can you tell me what it is you think they gain from having everything they think they want? If the parents are getting the raw deal, and the kids are missing out on the chance to learn an essential lesson about real life best summarized by the Rolling Stones, and the kids are missing out on the chance to really enjoy things if the only ones really gaining are those making money off the endless, colossally decadent consumption, I think we should ask ourselves: Who gets served?  




Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Come on feel the noise



I can't seem to fight the noise today. Jackhammers, literally right now outside the window, but virtual/visual noise, too. That might even be the defining factor for my lack-of-flow state right now. Is there a name for visual noise, a better name? Overstimulation maybe? We all know we're overstimulated. Over-booked. Multi-tasking when we should focus. Letting ourselves be assaulted with info, meaningless, unprocessed data, blinking ads. Sometimes I find it easy enough to block it out and just focus on what I'm reading or writing but sometimes I get tossed around on it all day. I always wonder whether it is greater in NYC, or if even in a quiet cabin in Vermont I'd find a million ways to be distracted. If you really want to focus, you will, right? I used to tell myself this but I believe it less and less. That is, I don't feel we can fully discount the "overwhelm" of our circumstance when thinking about our (in)ability to stay focused. [I find "overwhelm" as a noun incredibly irritating, but I can't think of what would better replace it.] I do think it really was easier pre-internet, even just pre-cable when you had to dial up to get online and you quickly got off so you wouldn't tie up the phone. 

Election cycles mean even greater temptation to fall down internet rabbit holes. If I'm anxious about something (maybe a more useful metric would be "If I'm not anxious about something" as that is surely the more limited set of data)...I give into the noise more readily, hopeful for the latest Trump/Cruz embarrassment that will distract me, give me that momentary high of feeling like we're not definitely hurling ourselves toward large-scale, unmitigated disaster. [That's a low bar, but with the current state of the climate, here's NASA's page, sadly I don't think it's far-fetched at all.]

Today I can tell I'm too awash in the noise to write clearly. I can feel it before I write, so I tend to avoid writing, even though maybe those are the times I need to most urgently. Those are the times I need to find Adrienne Rich's "clearing of the imagination" (she draws on John Haines' description here of the critic's role as opposed to that of the poet). Sometimes a blog post helps me find a clearing of the imagination. Sometimes I just get even more lost in the thorns.

I belong to a generation that grew up still writing letters, still sharing one house phone. You had to deal with people's parents and siblings when you called. You had to face the disappointment of a busy signal or the line that kept ringing. To our parents, even the level of technological engagement that made long-distance calls routine (if still somewhat curtailed because of the costs) and long calls to local friends a daily habit, even that must have seemed extravagantly connected. Since the 16th-century at least, each generation, as Raymond Williams rightly notes in The Country and the City, looked back at a "simpler time" (real or imagined). Raymond alerts us to the fact that an idealized longing for of a past "simpler" time has been employed to dangerous ends. And it certainly continues to wield enormous power today. So it is on the one hand dangerous to look back with nostalgia. My Fox News relatives do it with an outrageous lack of awareness. Still I want to find a way to discuss the dramatic, sweeping changes in my lifetime that will be productive. It fascinates me, to have grown up with TV and the phone, and even a computer in high school, yes, but still (by today's standards certainly) limited interaction with technology, to what happened just after college, in the late 90s, to where we are today (average 11-hours / day on gadgets says Nielson). 

One thing I've been thinking a lot about lately is how even when you separate yourself, turn off the computer, say, take a notebook and a pen and sit in a cafe or in a basement, windowless library, there is not the same sense of aloneness anymore. It's not a reasonable way to work, really, for more than a few hours maybe once or twice a week. Most of our work is deployed and managed through email; many of us rely on social media for promotion of various kinds. We have to be answerable, reachable, in our personal and private lives. I remember once when Wally's school nurse called me frustrated that she'd been trying to reach me for 45 minutes. It was outrageous that I hadn't answered my phone in that time. With young children, you're on call whether they are with you are not. I suspect many people feel the same pressures to be reachable, to their partners, parents, friends. Our system does not accommodate even brief sojourns off the grid. Yes, those of us privileged enough to take real vacations can defiantly define ourselves in email automatic messages as "off the grid"--but even then I suspect most of us are easily reachable and simply more discerning about what messages we choose to acknowledge. 

I guess for shorthand we could say "mental space" - there is not the same mental space to which we once had access. Sometimes I try to sink back into that feeling of afternoons when I was in high school home by myself - where was my mom? Dara was probably at dance. I would sit at the dining room table with my homework spread in front of me, eat popcorn and girl scout cookies, stare out the window. I talked on the phone a lot. I ran back and forth to the piano and wrote fragments of songs. Otherwise I played CD's (REM, U2, or Miss Saigon) or the radio. But there was nothing tugging me. No disquiet about a million conversations going on without me. And a lot of times the friends I wanted to talk to might not have been home or else someone else was on their phone. I was forced to be with myself. We're almost never forced to keep our own company anymore. And when that company is anxious or sad or in some other way aversive, we're all the more willing to open ourselves up to the anesthesia of noise.

On Saturday Alex had arranged with a few neighbor families to come over at 2 to watch soccer. He talked it up too much with the kids into a kind of party. He made snacks and set them up in the livingroom, opened bottles of wine and put beer in the fridge. The kids cleaned their room and chatted happily about all the friends coming over to play. I was to head out to the library, but one thing or another kept getting in my way. One more chore I could get out of the way, one more item I could bring to drop off somewhere. At around 2 Alex was surprised no one was there yet. He sent out a reminder text. No answer. Fifteen minutes later, a slight disquiet - where was everyone? At 2:30, one family wrote saying they were sorry but not feeling well. Petra fell asleep on the couch next to Alex in front of the game. There was that moment when you just kind of turn from -- lots of people are late, but it's still going to be a big, fun, wild, messy afternoon -- to the awareness, the weirdness of it at first, met with resistance, and then finally the acceptance that not one single person is coming. Wally's sad face, and then Alex telling Wally, "You can do the ipad," with the sense almost that it was "only fair" that he be allowed to, given the disappointment. It wasn't a huge thing, not like no one coming to a birthday party or something, but still, I could remember that kind of feeling as a child, looking forward for hours and then someone gets sick and how suddenly the afternoon feels huge and cavernous. But I did not want Wally to jump to the ipad. I wanted him to, as the Buddhist-lites might say "sit with" the sadness, the disappointment. He begged, argued, he bargained, but I told him to take out a notebook or a game or to just stare out the window and later play Plants and Zombies on the ipad, but not right then, not at that moment. 

I have to remind myself the same thing. Not to turn to the needle of technology like a junkie who needs an escape.

At the time I wished Wally had written something--anything--in his journal. Instead he started drawing dragon cards based on an ipad game I think. Another kind of message, transferred through another kind of medium. Why did I judge his method of expression? Deem it less worthy than my preferred (writing of some kind, including music). Drawing mythical creatures, he couldn't run from knowing what it felt like to be alone and quiet on a day he'd hoped for lots of loud happy children, for screaming and laughing, running and jumping on the bed and dumping wooden trains and tracks our of their boxes onto the wooden floor. 

Instead he got to feel the quiet, clear space for the imagination.

Monday, April 4, 2016

Things are getting better, and I have a sense that the message is getting out there, finally, but we still have a long way to go. Here's Diane Ravitch "Education in Crisis and the Threat of Privitization" from last week. 

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Didn't we almost have it all?



Another point of view on the "having it all" debate for working moms, this one from Prof. Susan Greenfield who teaches at Fordham and whom I'd never met or even seen until yesterday when she asked a question after a lecture on postcolonial ecotourism and I was like "Who, who, who is this?" just like Dana says about Jeremy before his interview on the Sports Night pilot and I know maybe only two people reading this will know what I mean but hopefully everyone will take a minute to read this: 

We Shouldn't Have it All by Susan Celia Greenfield

(BTW, someone said Sports Night might be coming back? Is it true?)

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Why #I'mWithHer



Too important to ignore - Rolling Stone's endorsement of Hillary Clinton.

"We are at the culmination of a decades-long effort by the right wing to take over the government. Historian Sean Wilentz told this story in Rolling Stone. The House, the Senate and, until a month ago, the Supreme Court are under the thumb of special interests and the extremely wealthy, who seek to roll back decades and decades of legislative progress that have furthered "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." And most horrifying of all, they would stop the world's last-minute effort to fight climate change, where the stakes are the fate of civilization as we now know it.


When I consider what's in their hearts, I think both Clinton and Sanders come out on the side of the angels; but when I compare their achievements in the past decades, the choice is clear. This is not the time in history for a "protest vote."

Clinton is far more likely to win the general election than Sanders. The voters who have rallied to Sanders during the primaries are not enough to generate a Democratic majority in November. Clinton will certainly bring them along, and add them to the broad coalition that Democrats have put together in the past to take the presidency, as did Bill Clinton and Barack Obama.
On the question of experience, the ability to enact progressive change, and the issue of who can win the general election and the presidency, the clear and urgent choice is Hillary Clinton."


Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/hillary-clinton-for-president-20160323#ixzz44OFiWPtdFollow us: @rollingstone on Twitter | RollingStone on Facebook