Results of Ruminations

Life can be pretty great. In my case, I have a job I love, a wife I adore, kids I care about, and a new home that still doesn't feel like mine, but it's growing on me. I'm also really paranoid about the idea that it's a house of cards that is leaning over a precipice. Maybe it's because I talked about Peter today in my classes, reading an essay about his heart condition that I read every year. That 'Best Scar' essay is something that 1) always makes me cry, and 2) puts me in a different mind frame. The first happens because it is most likely the best written thing I've ever done (though not without its faults), and it hurts to see how I have changed in relation to Peter. As he's grown, our personalities often clash. Part of what I weep for is the fact that I feel differently about him than when I first wrote the essay. And that's what sets me in a different mind frame. My parenting is not particularly adroit. I run hot quickly and with little ...

Disclaimer: I stole the title of this post from Batman and Philosophy and I think you should buy it and read it.  After I watched Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight  last night, I had a hard time going to sleep. Over the years, I've put some effort into learning about what works so effectively in the film, hoping to glean some storytelling tricks to try to improve my craft. Many years ago, I listened to this podcast about the Hollywood Formula and I found it really enjoyable and enlightening. A couple weeks ago, I stumbled upon this video , which reignited my interest in the film. Every year, I review the Hollywood formula with my students, about half of whom have seen The Dark Knight  and can get a lot out of what we're talking about. Every year, discussing the film makes me want to rewatch it, and I finally found the two and a half hours (!) needed to do so. It really is a great movie. Thinking of the two aforementioned analyses about the film kept me engaged i...

In the last few days, I've noticed some stirrings of irritation about a more visible trend of debasing literature and the humanities in favor of expanding interest in what are called the STEM fields (science, technology, engineering, math). Being married to a STEM person (an eighth grade science teacher) and coming from a humanities background myself, I can see why there's controversy. This ad from Wells Fargo rolled out and then back within a day, which shows kids who were once involved with the humanities now enjoying the STEM careers. Aside from the fuzzy thinking on how, exactly, a bank is helping kids have any career ("Hey, you know how crippling student debt is? Why not support the institutions that helped make that happen in the first place!"), it shows a knee-jerk value system that the bank is not only upholding (via their reliance on it to communicate their message quickly), but is also validating the system (via the additional subtext, assumption...

Oh, if only the mid '80s could see us now! Truly, we are in the era of the supremacy of the nerds. I'd like to thank Spider-Man and Sam Raimi for this moment. It's probably partially true, actually, that the current strength of geekdom can be determined (in part) by the success of Spider-Man  in 2002. Peter Jackson's version of The Lord of the Rings , which released in '01, '02, and '03 also played a crucial part. In a lot of ways, the zeitgeist rests on films and what preoccupies us as people. Whether or not my thesis is complete, it's true that those five films (including the second Spider-Man  film) and minor hits like the X-Men  movies all contributed to a groundswell of interest in the "geek" things of life. It's now hip to be a nerd. Of course, this is a generalization. But having finished Day One of Salt Lake Comic Con--and looking forward to another couple days this weekend--it's clear that there's a large, enjoyable ...

To go along with my post whining about reading , I wanted to dive a little deeper into why I think writing is hard. There are lots of reasons that I don't "like" to write. Well, that's not perfectly accurate. I like  to write. I know some authors hate  writing but love having written . They enjoy the idea of the completed project. While I enjoy that, too, I don't dislike writing. When I get my fingers on the keyboard and my thoughts are firing correctly, it's euphoric. During my writing retreats, I will get into a groove that is only interrupted by the need to change CDs (since I write at a cabin with no WiFi, I can't stream music uninterrupted). Hours will flit by, the sunlight slowly sliding across the windows, as I type on, oblivious to the external world, lost in the story I'm telling. That's amazing stuff right there. But those are rare moments. I normally get a handful of minutes--at most, an hour--with which I could, were I to so choos...

One of the things that surprised me was, when I finally got around to reading the entire Divine Comedy , I really enjoyed the concept of Purgatory. I'm not saying that I would personally  like to visit the place (having my eyes sewn shut like the Envious do doesn't appeal to me.) I'm saying the concept of Purgatory, as Dante defines it, is really neat. As a Mormon, I read with a Mormon lens as my default position. (I also try to make feminism my default lens, which can make for some....interesting connections.) One of the thorny questions that Dante--and, I think, many theologians--faces is the idea of what to do for those who had no idea about Jesus, baptism, or saving ordinances. If, for example, baptism is an essential action, then those without it are, unequivocally, damned. Dante tries to temper this a little by putting unbaptized, "virtuous pagans" and similar types in the first circle of Hell. It's not very deep, and, frankly, the place is pretty ...

In Dante's The Divine Comedy: Inferno,  within the second pocket of the seventh circle of Hell, Dante the Pilgrim encounters a gloomy wood. Different than the dark woods with which the poem starts, this forest is filled with trees made fo twisted trunks, rotten-looking leaves, and poisonous thorns. At his guide's insistence, Dante reaches out and snaps off a twig. Blood oozes from the break, accompanied by a human voice screaming, "Why are you rending me?" It soon becomes apparent that Dante and Virgil, his guide, are in the Forest of the Suicides. Those who "gave up" their bodies through the "unjust" decision of self-slaughter are cast down from the second circle of Hell where King Minos renders judgment. They fall through Hell until landing in this forest where, as a seed, they grow into these twisted saplings. After the resurrection, they will hang their resurrected, lifeless bodies from the thorns of their trees, turning this somber fores...