Dear Josephine,
How much there is to tell, and how much there is to conceal. Is there always that binary? Tell me: is it false or real? Are quotations needed, even there?
Lately there has been a fusion of days, all slow and long and fast and short, never fully characterized because I barely remember them. I know I enjoyed the contact between my pillow and my ear, but little else seemed to be of note.
Even now, when I set out to write this letter to you, I had a thousand statements I swore I’d hold steadfast to (and not bore you with constant dialogues of “reality” and disappointments with trying to be more alive. See: my body shining brightly).
To the business of letter writing [although it’s not a franchise – these feelings of mine]. Well, since work takes up 40 hours of the 112 hours I am awake, or perhaps I sleep even more than 8 hours a day, I can tell you that there is nothing new to report on that front. I am spending a decent amount of my summer traveling for work, which is frustrating because I am having trouble coordinating important one-on-one time with the people I love. I still walk to work everyday, either organizing mixed cds in my head or day-dreaming. Day-dreaming is a major component of being an INFJ. What can you do? Sometimes fantasy is more interesting than everyday life.
Lately I’ve been watching MTV’s The Paper and it’s causing me to realize I have lost my passion. Can this intangible concept actually be lost? The answer is a resounding yes. I used to breathe writing, used to advocate for a censorless world, and now I have become an automaton and have forgotten the joy of creating, forgotten to remember to hold fast to enjoyable activities. Thank you, MTV and Amanda Lorber. It’s important to never lose that drive, to never forget the importance of expression and doing something you feel you’d die if you couldn’t do it. And censoring (imagine here a judge’s gavel pounding away at art) is a devil in disguise.
Reality television makes me feel old even though twenty-three is just the start of another voyage. Tonight I don’t want to watch television or cook myself pasta. A slight rupture in my tiny universe. The cracks are beginning to show.
What did you say to me recently? “We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection.” So said your mentor Anais Nin, and so said you. Repetition can equal creation.
You and Anais might be right. But I think life is more than tasting and multiples, and pillows and automatic movements. I have unplayed that movement. I am claiming, not being claimed.
honestly,
l. c.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Letter 15
Dear Josephine,
Everything in this universe seems to be aligning into some sort-of reality that contains my wishes and it scares me and makes me very happy at the same time. If I could cross my toes I would; instead I read wikipedia articles about communication mergers and mining companies, and focus on the discovery of anklyosaurus, celebrating the latter as a bizarre full circle and message proclaiming, “Be bold. Be bold. Be bold.” In jubilation I focus on dimmer lighting and dusky reds and kindness. I write to define a greater purpose, a definition as vague as the term allows. I surround myself with honey and brown rice green tea, spontaneous weekends, and stuff good karma into my pillow at night.
love,
l.c.
Everything in this universe seems to be aligning into some sort-of reality that contains my wishes and it scares me and makes me very happy at the same time. If I could cross my toes I would; instead I read wikipedia articles about communication mergers and mining companies, and focus on the discovery of anklyosaurus, celebrating the latter as a bizarre full circle and message proclaiming, “Be bold. Be bold. Be bold.” In jubilation I focus on dimmer lighting and dusky reds and kindness. I write to define a greater purpose, a definition as vague as the term allows. I surround myself with honey and brown rice green tea, spontaneous weekends, and stuff good karma into my pillow at night.
love,
l.c.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Letter 14
Dear Josephine,
Ms. magazine, recently published an article "out-of-body image: self-objectification -- seeing ourselves through others' eyes -- impairs women's body image, mental health, motor skills and even sex lives" by Caroline Heldman. Heldman argues that the objectification of women's bodies as presented in our culture via communication mediums, and it can be mentioned, genderized images, causes women to not only critique their own bodies, but to see them as objects of desire: "A steady diet of exploitative, sexually provocative depictions of women feeds a poisonous tread in women's and girls' perception of their bodies, one that has recently been recognized by social scientists as self-objectification - viewing one's body as a sex object to be consumed by the male gaze."
This self-objectification leads to women's judgement of their physical appearance and their awareness of outside perception (or, how they believe they are perceived by others). It is this perception, in part, that causes women to place importance upon a body image (measuring the "flab" on their stomach, wearing high heels, acting like a "woman"), etc. Heldman spends a portion of her essay discussing the mental, physical, cognitive impact self-objectification has on those who are "medium or high self-objectifiers": they are more likely to be depressed, have low self-esteem, are at higher risk of eating disorders, may perform lower on their academic studies, are often less interested in politics, etc.
In addition, Heldman states, young girls are taught at an early age to flaunt their bodies. During this portion of the article I couldn't stop thinking of those ever-popular bratz dollz, like the ones seen here. These dolls implicitly place a value on materialism by showing the dolls' attentiveness to clothing, makeup, and hair styles. They even, subliminally, appear to place an importance on posing - isn't it interesting the placement of their bodies (in that picture) and the high-heeled shoes that seem to so effortlessly support them?
Later in the article, Heldman discusses the implications of self-objection on sex. She asserts:
"Self-objectification can likely explain some other things that researchers are just starting to study. For instance, leading anti-sexist male activist and author Jackson Katz observes, 'Many young women now engage in sex acts with men that prioritize the man's pleasure, with little or no expectation of reciprocity.' Could this be another result of women seeing themselves as sexual objects, not agents?"
In the above quotations Heldman is making a fascinating point. If, as she earlier stated, "girls are taught: your body is a project that needs work before you can attract others," then they are also taught: your body is an object with the primary objective - please, not be pleased. This concept makes men the primary focus of sexual pleasure, and makes women the servers of that pleasure. And, since media is purporting women's bodies as the pinnacle of male desire, then there bodies are fulfilling this image when, for example, there is a blatant disregard for women's satisfaction during the sex act.
Here is the paradox of objectification: it is founded in a perspective that forces personal identity and physical bodies to become separate, while simultaneously relying on bodies for the formation of an identity (women as agents of desire). The objectification of women, enforced by cultural depictions of them as sex pleasers, marginalizes women by stripping them of their identities and re-defining them solely by their bodies. These bodies in turn, become sexualized, a movement that renders them unrecognizable by their owners.
And, in turn, here is the biggest danger of self-objectification: the loss of personal identity (for example, how we show who we "are", what we believe in, etc.). For self-objectification finds its roots in society that creates and upholds socialized bodies and identities as normative.
In a sense, our bodies represent a signification process. To illuminate this process is to call attention to the genderized society in which we reside. But this is only one step. We have to, states Heldman, "view our bodies as tools to master our environment, instead of projects to be constantly worked on". We have to redirect our attention to ourselves and away from media images, to "create mental and emotional space for true self-exploration."
In her essay “The Body and the Reproduction of Femininity: A Feminist Appropriation of Foucault”, Susan Bordo advocates for individuals to resist prescribed gender roles. “I view our bodies as a site of struggle," she states, "where we must work to keep our daily practices in the service of resistance to gender domination, not in the service of ‘docility’ and gender normalization”.
Both Heldman and Bordo are right. We must stop seeing ourselves as objects, and focus on understanding our own identities.
love,
l.c.
Ms. magazine, recently published an article "out-of-body image: self-objectification -- seeing ourselves through others' eyes -- impairs women's body image, mental health, motor skills and even sex lives" by Caroline Heldman. Heldman argues that the objectification of women's bodies as presented in our culture via communication mediums, and it can be mentioned, genderized images, causes women to not only critique their own bodies, but to see them as objects of desire: "A steady diet of exploitative, sexually provocative depictions of women feeds a poisonous tread in women's and girls' perception of their bodies, one that has recently been recognized by social scientists as self-objectification - viewing one's body as a sex object to be consumed by the male gaze."
This self-objectification leads to women's judgement of their physical appearance and their awareness of outside perception (or, how they believe they are perceived by others). It is this perception, in part, that causes women to place importance upon a body image (measuring the "flab" on their stomach, wearing high heels, acting like a "woman"), etc. Heldman spends a portion of her essay discussing the mental, physical, cognitive impact self-objectification has on those who are "medium or high self-objectifiers": they are more likely to be depressed, have low self-esteem, are at higher risk of eating disorders, may perform lower on their academic studies, are often less interested in politics, etc.
In addition, Heldman states, young girls are taught at an early age to flaunt their bodies. During this portion of the article I couldn't stop thinking of those ever-popular bratz dollz, like the ones seen here. These dolls implicitly place a value on materialism by showing the dolls' attentiveness to clothing, makeup, and hair styles. They even, subliminally, appear to place an importance on posing - isn't it interesting the placement of their bodies (in that picture) and the high-heeled shoes that seem to so effortlessly support them?
Later in the article, Heldman discusses the implications of self-objection on sex. She asserts:
"Self-objectification can likely explain some other things that researchers are just starting to study. For instance, leading anti-sexist male activist and author Jackson Katz observes, 'Many young women now engage in sex acts with men that prioritize the man's pleasure, with little or no expectation of reciprocity.' Could this be another result of women seeing themselves as sexual objects, not agents?"
In the above quotations Heldman is making a fascinating point. If, as she earlier stated, "girls are taught: your body is a project that needs work before you can attract others," then they are also taught: your body is an object with the primary objective - please, not be pleased. This concept makes men the primary focus of sexual pleasure, and makes women the servers of that pleasure. And, since media is purporting women's bodies as the pinnacle of male desire, then there bodies are fulfilling this image when, for example, there is a blatant disregard for women's satisfaction during the sex act.
Here is the paradox of objectification: it is founded in a perspective that forces personal identity and physical bodies to become separate, while simultaneously relying on bodies for the formation of an identity (women as agents of desire). The objectification of women, enforced by cultural depictions of them as sex pleasers, marginalizes women by stripping them of their identities and re-defining them solely by their bodies. These bodies in turn, become sexualized, a movement that renders them unrecognizable by their owners.
And, in turn, here is the biggest danger of self-objectification: the loss of personal identity (for example, how we show who we "are", what we believe in, etc.). For self-objectification finds its roots in society that creates and upholds socialized bodies and identities as normative.
In a sense, our bodies represent a signification process. To illuminate this process is to call attention to the genderized society in which we reside. But this is only one step. We have to, states Heldman, "view our bodies as tools to master our environment, instead of projects to be constantly worked on". We have to redirect our attention to ourselves and away from media images, to "create mental and emotional space for true self-exploration."
In her essay “The Body and the Reproduction of Femininity: A Feminist Appropriation of Foucault”, Susan Bordo advocates for individuals to resist prescribed gender roles. “I view our bodies as a site of struggle," she states, "where we must work to keep our daily practices in the service of resistance to gender domination, not in the service of ‘docility’ and gender normalization”.
Both Heldman and Bordo are right. We must stop seeing ourselves as objects, and focus on understanding our own identities.
love,
l.c.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Letter 13
Dear Josephine,
I haven't written poetry in a long time. My first-year of college my Creative Writing professor pulled me aside, telling me that he had showed some of my poetry to his colleagues and that they were impressed by my writing, wondering how such a voice emanated from an eighteen-year-old's hand. I didn't understand the link between age and talent, but I was floored. My junior year I fell in love (again) with literary theory, and presented myself with an unnecessary decision: focus on criticism or creation. I chose the former. I haven't written a poem in nearly three years, when I wrote the upwards of twenty-some poems a year from fourth grade to my third year of college. Today, I attempted to write something. And although I am unsatisfied, it is a step in the right direction (as it's a movement away from my regular topics):
I value the planes between your shoulder and the floor
According to an online resource, “running
and dancing are kinetic activities.” So is fucking:
my hand at a cavity; I value kindness.
I enjoy the not feeling sensation of feeling.
Inertia is for those unable to implode.
See: this paradigm of loving.
-l.c.
I haven't written poetry in a long time. My first-year of college my Creative Writing professor pulled me aside, telling me that he had showed some of my poetry to his colleagues and that they were impressed by my writing, wondering how such a voice emanated from an eighteen-year-old's hand. I didn't understand the link between age and talent, but I was floored. My junior year I fell in love (again) with literary theory, and presented myself with an unnecessary decision: focus on criticism or creation. I chose the former. I haven't written a poem in nearly three years, when I wrote the upwards of twenty-some poems a year from fourth grade to my third year of college. Today, I attempted to write something. And although I am unsatisfied, it is a step in the right direction (as it's a movement away from my regular topics):
I value the planes between your shoulder and the floor
According to an online resource, “running
and dancing are kinetic activities.” So is fucking:
my hand at a cavity; I value kindness.
I enjoy the not feeling sensation of feeling.
Inertia is for those unable to implode.
See: this paradigm of loving.
-l.c.
Letter 12
Dear Josephine,
"Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
Well, when one is drunk, one finds herself a prophet. I do believe in all those things I listed in my last letter, although my endorsement of them are a bit more pronounced (and generic) upon glass numero tres of red wine.
Anyway, this weekend I went with my mother to The Library of Congress. The "great hall" is stunning in its architecture and painted walls, which are embossed with many quotes, among them: "The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." It struck me to silence.
Can't that quote be applied to the meaning of ignorance?:
ig·no·rance (ĭg'nər-əns) : n. The condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.
Isn't the darkness ignorance? And in this cloak of darkness there is an inability, or a lack of participation in the quest, to understand "truth"? Here, blindness, even in the brightest of places.
Later, dressed in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, I "googled" the phrase. I wasn't surprised to learn it's from the bible.
John 1:
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
"There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world."
Lord! Look at that multifaceted narrative. It's really quite brilliant. Here "word" becomes "Word", which changes the meaning, or at least the intention of the word, entirely. And John is both an observer and a channel of knowledge and creation. That excerpt is a fold within itself.
Right now, I'm listening to Dire Straits "Romeo and Juliet". I'm fascinated by the impetus provided by literary texts. Inspiration, inspiration, you sneaky woman. We all steal stories, I suppose.
Lately I've been unable to give voice to my thoughts, and even now I find this letter to be inadequate. I've become quieter and more contemplative, and this is a good thing. Kenneth Bruffee once said (paraphrase here): "Writing is conversation internalized re-externalized onto paper." I believe that. Another bullet to the list.
yours,
l.c.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Letter 10
Dear Josephine,
My senior year of college, whenever I was depressed, I listened to Jim Croce's album Photographs and Memories. The other day I was watching television and I saw a program about his life, which showed some segments of him singing his songs. I was reminded of my former obsession with his "lover's cross". Jim sings:
"'Cause now it seems that you wanted a martyr/Just a regular guy wouldn't do/But baby I can't hang upon no lover's cross for you"
The quotation led me to thinking about my relationships, some still going strong, others now quietly on hiatus, and still others that have ended. I think in all my failed relationships (I'm using this term loosely, as it's all encompassing) there was always this misunderstanding of the other's character. And I don't mean that I misjudged a person's character or vice-versa, but that I misjudged my own understanding of that person. A frame within a frame within a frame. Simply put: I think in all relationships we are prone to eventually expect a fellow comrade to act in a specific manner, or become more aware of his/her shortcomings, and change. But we fail to realize that our attempts at making this person a "better" person, have not only isolated him/her, they've skewed our own perceptions. This causes us to try to make this comrade come to terms with his/her failings, but we in turn use these failings to justify the "faulty" decisions he/she makes. Where is the happy medium? If we are using their faults to justify other faults, how can we give others the benefit of the doubt? But that's not really it - how can we see that they are changing, or that they are reflecting on what we are saying, when are perceptions of them have stayed the same? Have we become preachers who forget to listen to the voices of their congregations? Even there, in that simile, a hierarchy emerges.
And still Jim sings:
"'Cause tables are meant for turnin'/And people are bound to change/And bridges are meant for burnin'/When the people and memories they join aren't the same"
And finally --
I've been haunted by Before Sunset since I watched it months ago. In the movie the two main characters, Jesse and Celine, share this interaction:
Jesse: Oh, God, why didn't we exchange phone numbers and stuff? Why didn't we do that?
Celine: Because we were young and stupid.
Jesse: Do you think we still are?
Celine: I guess when you're young, you just believe there'll be many people with whom you'll connect with. Later in life, you realize it only happens a few times.
Jesse: And you can screw it up, you know, misconnect.
I wonder: I constantly see emails and read articles that draw a line between my body and a stranger's, connecting me to one family tree and to another, or one country to another, or one phone network to another, placing tiny bobbing heads across a map of the united states (and beyond). Connections are painted as being innumerable. Of course I am connected (even with this medium) to those living in locations across the globe. But Celine is right - that tenuous line is so rare, that when it reverberates, one shouldn't ignore its sound.
best,
l.c.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Letter 9
Dear Josephine,
Reading On the Road is causing me to become an emotional train wreck. In addition, it's causing me to hoard all of my money and live off of yogurt, fruit, pizza, and honey/tea. Why? Because, I'm trying to save money to pay off my credit card bill. These are the ties that bind. I'm desperately seeking other terrains -- this summer I'm going on a road trip to quell this wanderlust/hunger that's driving me crazy.
Do not: mention sands, mountains, rivers, or valleys; sing to me, "do not hasten to bid me adieu"; draw maps and lines that intersect like highways and byways; radios and heat and higher altitudes. Do: whisper Washingtonian summers, dance parties, and metro rails. It's always on my mind.
I need to learn how to drive a manual. I am going to have to find someone to teach me. I need to learn patience. I also need a second job.
Damn finances.
This letter is cynical. I wish you days full of confetti, as I associate those strips of garbage with celebratory evenings and noteworthy success stories.
And yes, I do appreciate your constant support.
always,
l.c.
Reading On the Road is causing me to become an emotional train wreck. In addition, it's causing me to hoard all of my money and live off of yogurt, fruit, pizza, and honey/tea. Why? Because, I'm trying to save money to pay off my credit card bill. These are the ties that bind. I'm desperately seeking other terrains -- this summer I'm going on a road trip to quell this wanderlust/hunger that's driving me crazy.
Do not: mention sands, mountains, rivers, or valleys; sing to me, "do not hasten to bid me adieu"; draw maps and lines that intersect like highways and byways; radios and heat and higher altitudes. Do: whisper Washingtonian summers, dance parties, and metro rails. It's always on my mind.
I need to learn how to drive a manual. I am going to have to find someone to teach me. I need to learn patience. I also need a second job.
Damn finances.
This letter is cynical. I wish you days full of confetti, as I associate those strips of garbage with celebratory evenings and noteworthy success stories.
And yes, I do appreciate your constant support.
always,
l.c.
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