Forgive and Forget

It's funny how memory works differently for different people. I had someone tell me today that he has a really tough time forgetting injustices or wrongs or even irritations that he has experienced and that these things take up a lot of energy and he would like to be rid of them but they stick around for years. I listened and tried to sympathise but could not understand as fully as I wished in order to enter into the feeling and help bear it. I have felt injustice in the past and there are a few painful moments in my life that still pop up every once in a while in my memory but for the most part I tend to forget much of the pain in the past and simply retain a general picture of happiness. I believe most people tend towards this pattern of memory retention. But I wonder which extreme is better? Or can one be said to be better than the other in this case? I believe my way of enjoying and living in the moment bearing mostly happy memories feeds into my joy and makes me enjoy life even more. It also seems to line up with the wisdom in the adage 'forgive and forget'. But while thinking these happy thoughts about my happy state to myself I suddenly wondered whether I truly, in cases of interpersonal conflict etc, did forgive the other person before I forgot about how they had 'wronged' me. Or maybe I just forgot so I didn't have to forgive. "Oh, don't worry about it" or "forget about it" are things I often say when someone asks forgiveness and I truly mean that I am not holding on to a grudge or the pain but is this really enough? I am not one to put much stake in a formula. I don't think that saying the words "I forgive you" means anything more than other words or actions to express the same forgiving heart. I also try to avoid the pitfall of letting the words mask a contrary heart. But maybe by avoiding the cliché I have also thrown the baby out. Maybe I am not putting in the effort needed truly to forgive someone (even when they themselves ask me to!) but rather avoiding the whole interaction by masking it with other words. I really do think that I tend to forget so that I do not have to forgive but there is much wisdom in the wording of that phrase. Only once forgiveness has taken place is it safe to forget. I'm going to try to remember this.

MA

I have printed off my last two papers, am waiting to see when I can drop them off and have just applied to graduate! Wahoo!

busy bee

It's been so long since I last wrote that I almost forgot where to go to find my blog. I think I may safely say that this week is the busiest, or at least has the most going on activity- and emotionally-wise that I have ever experienced so far. When I start to feel guilty about going on here rather than digging into that list of things to do, though, I realize that maybe it is important to sit down and process a little first.

It hasn't had any air-time in these pages yet but I am one week away from finishing all my work for my MA in English. I'm glad it's almost done because I have been so busy and occupied with other things the past little while but at the same time I will certainly miss being in school. I don't have plans for any further formal education in the near future and I know I am going to miss it sorely.

Another sad ending that I can hardly see through the work it'll take to get there is that we have to be moved out of the college building by the end of this week. Do you have any idea how much stuff [junk] can be stored in a building that had students living here a year at a time and leaving behind various unwanted items as they packed to leave? Or even how many things get accumulated by the college itself that it will no longer need (or at least not worthwhile enough to keep during a complicated move... if it's needed at the other end it can be purchased at that point). Do you have any idea how complicated the decision process is around all these items when each is to be evaluated and discerned where it should go? Ahh! I can't wait until it's done but once it is done that will be the end of the Blackburn experience for us all. I do actually love this building although I know it's time to move on. It will be a hard transition.

On top of all this are plans for the future (which I'm hoping to be able to push back to next week to deal with... 'can I pencil you in for next Wedneday?') and people waiting to hear the results of those plans.

Then my Gma, with whom I lived for all my undergrad years, has just suffered a stroke. This has been a shock to all, I believe, especially because prior to this she has maintained wonderful health and was a few days away from a road trip down to Omaha (to give an indication of her life and adventurous spirit). It's been a hard week and a half for all concerned and if there are any out there who still read this I would certainly ask for prayers during this whole ordeal.

I don't know exactly why I am writing this post but I felt like updating again so that's my life at this point in a nutshell. I am beginning to believe that everyone is right when they say that life never slows down, it only speeds up. That's definitely been my experience so far!

INFJ

Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging. Apparently that's my personality type. As far as personality tests go, I do feels it's fairly accurate. Also interesting is that this type makes up the smallest percentage of the population in America. I would like to see what the percentage is like compared to the rest of the world, however.

Smile

When I got home the other day this was all that was left from a bowl of cherries.
I know I often see faces in various things that others think of as a bit of a stretch but this time I had to take a picture. I love the crooked smile.

lovely

Because the majority of my contact with these flowers is on the thorn side of things, they are among my least favourite flowers. But I can agree that they do look lovely.

update

So after daily sending in my resume to different potential jobs, taking personality tests as a result, sitting through various styles of interviews, explaining that I am a quick learner but no, I didn't have French... I caved and sent a short message to a landscaping company this Tuesday afternoon and I was working Wednesday morning. There are aspects of the landscaping culture that I appreciate. I can survive and even thrive in a world where they care more about seeing how you work than interviewing and looking at a limited list of your accomplishments/deeds. Thinking about it, all the jobs that I have held I have not had to have even one interview. I have always been hired before even meeting my bosses. I feel much more comfortable being able to get to work and show how I can adjust and work well rather than try to be assertive and tell people that I am a hard-worker. Because even if it is true, I find that as soon as I am forced to toot my own horn either I am not forward enough and downplay myself too much or I feel as though I am lying about my abilities. Either way I'm sure I don't come across very well.

Anyway, yes I am back at landscaping. I am enjoying being outside and working with plants to the same extent as I did in my last job but unfortunately (as I suspected) it is not even to be compared to my last job on any other front. Thankfully the people with whom I work are all friendly so far but nothing like the fellowship I had with Marc and Chris and Jan will be found. I remember always being happy when Marc would repeat how we won't cut grass but there's more to it than avoiding a boring job--this crew cuts grass and are grass cutters. Everyone else who worked with Marc (me excluded) had at least a horticulture diploma (and often other forms of education) whereas here the expert on the horticulture aspect of things apparently sat in on a few classes but doesn't have his diploma. He knows what he's doing and I don't want to be snooty and say people need to have degrees before I'll speak to them but there often is an attitude that comes with education and a love of learning that I forgot was not possessed by all and sundry. Thankfully, however, I can come back home at night and will be sure to be refreshed in a congenial atmosphere. That is, if I can stay awake enough to soak it in at all...

Roses

I was sitting outside reading this afternoon and the first sign I had that the roses were finally blooming was the scent wafting over the breeze to me.




I haven't taken pictures recently. Unfortunately this weekend (the first I've made it home in a while) I forgot to bring my camera. This is particularly unfortunate because the gardens are at their peak in many ways at our house this time of year. The lupins in particular are spectacular (an adjective not always applied to our gardens) right now and I am sorry not to have caught them on film. But we must work with what we have and so I have taken a few pictures of the roses in the garden here in Ottawa.

fading to yellow

Confessions

When I finished reading James Hogg's Confessions of a Justified Sinner I decided that I should read Thomas De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium Eater to follow a bit of a theme and perhaps compare the two (a friend suggested that I should perhaps read the shopaholic confessions also but we'll see about that). Of course there are differences: De Quincey's confessions are autobiographical while Hogg's twist from one narration of supernatural events to another also De Quincey seeks to explain how he turned to the wrong while the protagonist (if he may be called that) in Hogg's book will at no time admit himself to be anything but righteous. In fact it may turn out to be easier to list similarities than differences between these two books.

What I found and find most difficult within the reading process itself about these two books is their lack of chapters or chapter-like divisions within the texts. The Justified Sinner has breaks at each new narrative but they are far enough apart that it gives no real sense of being able to stop at a good point, while the writing and subject matter do not hold up well to prolonged reading sessions (unless one wishes to get it over quickly).

I have read almost through half of the Opium Eater and have just stopped at a small break--the only one of which I can remember having encountered. But beyond this annoyance, I have been enjoying De Quincey's narrative immensely. It seems at times more a collection of essays centred around and inspired by a life's narrative than a biography. At this point, however, I am thoroughly satisfied with it. I have come thus far and he has eaten not a drop of opium yet so perhaps the book takes a turn to the gloomy side soon.

He originally wrote his Confessions in 1821 and subsequently, by 1856, published a revised version. I am reading the revised version and have been interested by the several remarks he inserts on the subject of his revisions and his various statements on the nature of narrative and truth. He uses footnotes extensively (sometimes a footnote will take up almost an entire page itself) and although they can distract from the central narrative, I have never really found them to detract from it. His style, as I mentioned when speaking of the collection of essays, is disjointed at most times so I sometimes question if there is a purpose to putting some of the asides into footnote form while leaving others in the text itself. It would be interesting to look into further. I also would like to read the original and compare the two because he speaks of how he has changed some things, put some thing in that weren't there previously and so on. It has been a fascinating read so far and I shall try to write more on it if other thoughts worthy of recording come up while reading the rest of the book.

I found I have written little about Hogg's book but that might be because I have read several other books in the intervening time and it is not fresh in my memory. Also I have already had the privilege of discussing it because it was read as part of a book club so I don't feel the need to get my thoughts on it out at this point. In any case I can still outline briefly the things that I found I liked about it. I found the aspects I found most interesting in reading Justified Sinner also had to do with its conscious production of the crafting of the narrative. I am interested in the way that there were so many stories and frame stories and various points of view within the book and I would like to puzzle a bit more over why the author employed this means of telling the story. Also I found it quite interesting that the author placed himself (or a version of himself) in a limited and a discounted role within the story.

Anyway I was not put off from my Calvanistic and Scottish tendencies and heritage by the reading of an account of how such things can go too far (into the realm of antinomianism and perhaps even beyond...) but I shall take it as a warning and call to seek to live a balanced life. That may be one of the hardest things we are called to do in this life but we must try for it nonetheless.

I did not get much enjoyment from the reading of the text, however, and found most of the time that I was reading merely to finish it but I am happy that I have read it and come to the point where I can focus on certain aspects of it while not having to have the less-savoury bits still on my tongue.

coming up for air

so after a week of feeding and cleaning up after a pile of doctors they have all gone home. I'm feeling relieved but also saddened by the sudden quiet. Now life must resume where I dropped it or rather where I dropped it along with the accumulation of a week or two of things I have ignored or put on hold while busy. I have also been blown away by hearing a friend play piano at a high level of skill and have come down and made the decision that instead of giving up without a hope of ever attaining such a level, I should instead practice more. As much as it is easier to say with Lady Catherine "If I had ever learned I should have been a true proficient" it is better to have tried. And thankfully he'll likely never hear me play so there isn't much fear of comparison there.
I've also been thinking about bigger issues and themes deriving from the conference itself and from various books I have been perusing but at this moment while I am still recovering I just want to write a short post about very little so please forgive me for being shallow this once.

cop out

I am currently listening to a recording of the piano transcription of the second movement from Beethoven's seventh Symphony. I have the scores for Liszt's transcriptions of all of Beethoven's symphonies but have only recently jumped into a serious attempt to play them. I've fairly easily figured out the famous first movement of the fifth (it's most recognizable and probably among the easier movements to play technically speaking from my narrow viewpoint) but have had a little trouble with the second theme in this particular movement. The way the notes are printed give it a strange looking timing so I wasn't sure how to play it by sight and couldn't remember how it went by ear so I caved and am listening to it with the score before me. I feel slightly guilty about this in much the same way that I feel slightly guilty that I don't always push myself to try doing a fairly easy puzzle without looking at the picture. I'm sure if I exerted myself even a little bit I would be able to do it just fine but things are sometimes just easier when there is an easy out at hand. I could work the timing out on this piece and come up with the same result but perhaps life isn't always about how much one can challenge oneself. Perhaps there is something to be said to enjoying listening to a recording and perhaps even having my own playing of the piece improve both in the timing department and in that of dynamics, for example. Maybe I am trying to justify my laziness (I know I have my fair share of it and it doesn't need to get away with as much as it generally does) but maybe this is an area I don't really have to worry that much about. I don't think I'll ever really get over that slightly guilty feeling, though. Oh well.

Western fun

I just got back from a trip out west and of all the aspects I could record or muse over I think I shall merely post a picture of one of the fridge poems I wrote out there.

Bushels of beautiful biscotti

M has been making biscotti for her cousin's wedding and, as sometimes happens when she bakes, I spent some time taking pictures of the finished product (or at least what has been finished so far--I believe more batches shall be made tomorrow but I shan't be here). I think we should start an online baking business where she bakes, I take pictures and then we ship the product out. It's fun to think about in any case. Here are some of the myriad of pictures from this batch.

before they drop

There is a beautiful mature Magnolia in the backyard here at the College. I have been looking forward to living here while it bloomed this year and at last the buds have finally opened up and look gorgeous. Yet I am leaving tomorrow for the rest of the week and likely only have a small window of opportunity to enjoy this tree before all the petals drop. So, instead of mourning fate, I have taken a few pictures of the tree this afternoon and will post some of them here.




I am happy that I have not missed the blooms entirely and that it is such a beautiful day today to enjoy them. And now I think I shall get off this computer and get outside to do just that.

the eye

Even though this is regularly a transitional part of the year for me, the transitions this year seem to have affected me more than usual. Perhaps it has hit me harder because this time it is the people and things around me that seem to be changing more than me. I am not graduating, I am not moving from the routine of studies to the routine of summer, I am not moving anywhere; yet on every side, my community and friends are swirling madly while I stand in the centre, hoping for things to settle soon. It is a strange vantage point and I believe I am beginning to understand (or at least come to acknowledge) part of the sorrows a mother experiences as she is less and less able to accompany her children through all the changes of live.

People in general believe themselves to be the hero of their own stories until life comes along and--bit by bit--shaves away their pride and shows them their proper places. Perhaps there are some who play main roles but I am finding, more and more that my place is likely in the chorus. I've been reading a couple books lately in which the idea of the importance of the main character is discussed. In both it becomes evident (and, interestingly--along the lines of self-awareness and all that jazz--is fairly blatantly claimed) that the point of the book is not an exploration of the central character but of the extraordinary events that occur around him. It is true that in many cases narrators are utilized not for any outstanding merit or talents within them but rather for their being at the right place and time to observe events. This device is common and doesn't topple our idea of the importance of the central character unless it comes out that this narrator is the central character and is still of no importance. It is a fascinating possibility. I am not saying by this that I consider my life to be of no importance but rather that my importance more and more does not seem to lie in playing the central starring role. I think I'm getting better at appreciating that. In the mean time I suppose I shall just have to try to help my friends as best I can while they go through their various and sundry transitions. I'm thankful I have this opportunity.

dry skin

(from a garlic clove)

further studies

After going through a time when my future was--for the most part--up in the air, I have finally heard that I am accepted at Carleton to do my MA in English lit. It's a little strange because I tend to set my expectations low in order either not to be disappointed or to be pleasantly surprised but this time I had really convinced myself that it wasn't going to work out. It was good to have gone that far because I meant that I started looking at other options but it made finding out a huge surprise and readjustment of thinking of the future. This whole situation also makes my summer plans easier so hopefully they shall fall into place more readily now that I know something for certain.

Life is funny. Last night I was telling someone of my lack of plans for the future at the same time that the acceptance e-mail was sitting in my junk folder (yes, Yahoo doesn't seem to think it important enough to send to my inbox). It gives a different perspective on life and our expectations of what we know of the future and how things actually will work.

abuckabook

The other night I went out to pick up a few groceries for the College and 'happened' to stop at the one-dollar book table outside the bookstore conveniently located across the intersection from the grocery store. Four dollars and four books later, I went for groceries.

Today a few of us went on an adventure across town in search of one-dollar books and I came back with a sufficiently larger pile (to make up for the greater inconvenience of bussing out to Nepean and back).

Does anyone have a one-dollar bookshelf that I can have on which to store these books? I'm running out of room.

watch the flowers grow

We're having another bout of beautiful weather and yesterday morning I was able to clean up the back yard (I cleaned the front last Friday) and edge all the beds, prune/trim some of the trees and bushes and generally make the place a bit more spiffy all-round. The tulips, daffodills and crocuses are all popping up and look as though they will be blooming soon.

I can't tell you how delighted I was to be able to do yard work again! It made me think that perhaps landscaping should be more than just a stepping-stone to better things... Anyway, one consolation is that no matter what job I end up with whenever I get around to growing up, I should always be able to garden at least on the side.