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shadowkatTonight while talking to my mother, she called to thank me for sending her tulips for mother's day, she brought up the issue of etiquette.
Apparently one of her close friends berated her for not greeting and hugging the friend, when the friend attended a function my mother was at. Another friend did the same thing - "I said hello to you, did you not hear me?" Well, no, said my mother, my head was elsewhere. According to my father - when one enters a room in business, etiquette dictates, working the room, or greeting everyone. Which I've often done with a wave or a how-de-do. But to be honest, when walking down the street and someone waves? I'm probably oblivious. And no, I don't hug and kiss people the moment I see them at a gathering. It makes me uncomfortable. It seems false somehow, insincere. Practiced. Never been a fan of false greetings. A wave does me just fine. Nor do I get angry at my friends for not doing it. I like the happy medium. At any rate, maybe it's just me, but to get upset with someone for forgetting to say hello to you or hug you when you enter a room - seems just a tad self-centered, don't you think? Why not hug them? Go up to them? Maybe they had a bad day? Maybe they are uncomfortable with public displays of affection? The world, hate to break it to you folks, does not revolve around you! Not sure why this annoys me, maybe it's the presumption people make - this is how "I" behave, how "I" was taught and therefore it is how "you" should behave too. You should treat me like a queen. You should hug me. You should make me feel great. And if you don't then there's something wrong with you. Sigh. People, there's no living with them and there's no living without them. No wonder we kill each other on occassion.
Still musing on this interest meme...
What are my favorite things? Well, they keep changing with time, I suppose, what I liked yesterday is not what I like today. For instance, used to adore poetry, wrote reams of it, read it in front of large audiences (and I mean large - auditorium size), and now? Can't abide it. Not sure why. Prefer prose poems actually. Like poems that are meaty. Sylvia Plath? Ugh. Used to be my favorite, now I find her a tad too self-indulgent. Dorothy Parker? Much more enjoyable, little bites of wit. Yeats and Keats...come and go. The Fall of Hyperion, the book that I've been reading on the subway for the past month (I read an hour each day - all on the subway), uses poetry to explore spirituality and mood. A major character in the novel is - John Keats, or rather a cybrid persona of Keats (they've created a type of artificial clone that contains the memories and personality of Keats, but is not Keats - Keats personality dictates who the cybrid is.) So throughout we get bits and pieces of Keats poetry. Another major character is an epic poet, writing poetry in much the same style as the Greeks. The novel borrows quite a bit from Greek and Roman mythology. It also examines the failings of religion, all religions in interesting ways - which may be why I'm intrigued by it. Right now, for reasons I cannot quite explain, science fiction novels that question religious precepts and assumptions captivate me. Perhaps because I'm questioning my own religious upbringing and precepts I've been taught? Not sure. Sorry, got off track again, didn't I? Back to interests...
Not overly fond of personal poetry right now. Maybe because I got burnt out on it years before. OR just a phase. Yet, don't mind poetry itself. I think it is hard to do poetry well and I believe it's very subjective.
Currently interested in science-fiction novels - but a specific type. The type exploring man's relationship with god and the universe - a la BattleStar Galatica. Or The Three Stigmata of Palmer K. Eldritch. The desire to escape.
To find meaning. To deal with the unfathomable depths of the universe, the inability to comprehend that which is beyond us. Moral grey areas. Have 0 tolerance right now for Judeo-Christian morality tales or black and white morality tales. Star-Gate SG1 for instance? Makes me cringe and flip the channel. Just as Revelations did. And Joan of Arcadia recently. (Was fine with Joan until they ruined it by introducing the evil kid.) Had the same reaction to Point Pleasant. But Tru Calling? Intrigued me - because of the murkiness.
I'm fascinated by mud and murk at the moment apparently.
Noir also fascinates me. I think I may be writing it. Whether I want to or not, that's where my mind leads me. Into the murky blacks and greys of the noir universe. Okay, it's more modern noir - which is grey as opposed to the black it was in the 1930s. The anti-heroes, the tragic heroes, the poor souls who can not quite escape their environments, yet are heroic in the attempt to do so.
Not so keen on romance - unless it's angsty, twisted, biting, witty, but sappy/fluffy romance? Can't quite handle. Although you could say that fanfic I wrote was sappy - I beg to disagree, since it was hardly a romance. They are not riding into the sunset together. Buffy will leave Will on his mountaintop, to write his prose. They will part ways. It's merely a conversation, nothing more. I do not see these two characters setting up shop together or having sex. Yet I seem to crave romance - somehow. Again not the sappy variety. For instance, I adored the first 20-40 pages of herselfnyc's current WIP, the parts in Vietnam? But could not read a word after Buffy got to Rome. And finally gave up. Nor do I have the patience for the contemporary chick novels - such as Bridget Jones Edge of Reason, and countless others of that ilk.
I adore mysteries - but have no patience for the by the numbers, procedurals.
I want twisty stuff. Lost enthralls. Or maybe Patricia Highsmith. Or how about Minette Walters? Not sure I have the patience for Agatha Christie any longer, nor for that matter Janet Evanoich, who I once loved.
Finding I have a taste for horror, but not the stomach for it. At least not on film. Film? I prefer the psychological variety. But also like to sleep at night, so am staying well away from Ring2 and The Grudge. Books? Ah, I mean to read at some point Faber's Under the Skin, Frankenstein, Dracula, Sister Wolf by Ann Arensberg, and Peter Straub's Ghost Story (only seen the movie version - which is fascinating.)
The other tastes and interests will have to wait for another post, I think. Must go to bed. Get up at 6:55am after all. And have Salsa Class tomorrow night, where I hope I can remember the steps and not look too much the fool.
Apparently one of her close friends berated her for not greeting and hugging the friend, when the friend attended a function my mother was at. Another friend did the same thing - "I said hello to you, did you not hear me?" Well, no, said my mother, my head was elsewhere. According to my father - when one enters a room in business, etiquette dictates, working the room, or greeting everyone. Which I've often done with a wave or a how-de-do. But to be honest, when walking down the street and someone waves? I'm probably oblivious. And no, I don't hug and kiss people the moment I see them at a gathering. It makes me uncomfortable. It seems false somehow, insincere. Practiced. Never been a fan of false greetings. A wave does me just fine. Nor do I get angry at my friends for not doing it. I like the happy medium. At any rate, maybe it's just me, but to get upset with someone for forgetting to say hello to you or hug you when you enter a room - seems just a tad self-centered, don't you think? Why not hug them? Go up to them? Maybe they had a bad day? Maybe they are uncomfortable with public displays of affection? The world, hate to break it to you folks, does not revolve around you! Not sure why this annoys me, maybe it's the presumption people make - this is how "I" behave, how "I" was taught and therefore it is how "you" should behave too. You should treat me like a queen. You should hug me. You should make me feel great. And if you don't then there's something wrong with you. Sigh. People, there's no living with them and there's no living without them. No wonder we kill each other on occassion.
Still musing on this interest meme...
What are my favorite things? Well, they keep changing with time, I suppose, what I liked yesterday is not what I like today. For instance, used to adore poetry, wrote reams of it, read it in front of large audiences (and I mean large - auditorium size), and now? Can't abide it. Not sure why. Prefer prose poems actually. Like poems that are meaty. Sylvia Plath? Ugh. Used to be my favorite, now I find her a tad too self-indulgent. Dorothy Parker? Much more enjoyable, little bites of wit. Yeats and Keats...come and go. The Fall of Hyperion, the book that I've been reading on the subway for the past month (I read an hour each day - all on the subway), uses poetry to explore spirituality and mood. A major character in the novel is - John Keats, or rather a cybrid persona of Keats (they've created a type of artificial clone that contains the memories and personality of Keats, but is not Keats - Keats personality dictates who the cybrid is.) So throughout we get bits and pieces of Keats poetry. Another major character is an epic poet, writing poetry in much the same style as the Greeks. The novel borrows quite a bit from Greek and Roman mythology. It also examines the failings of religion, all religions in interesting ways - which may be why I'm intrigued by it. Right now, for reasons I cannot quite explain, science fiction novels that question religious precepts and assumptions captivate me. Perhaps because I'm questioning my own religious upbringing and precepts I've been taught? Not sure. Sorry, got off track again, didn't I? Back to interests...
Not overly fond of personal poetry right now. Maybe because I got burnt out on it years before. OR just a phase. Yet, don't mind poetry itself. I think it is hard to do poetry well and I believe it's very subjective.
Currently interested in science-fiction novels - but a specific type. The type exploring man's relationship with god and the universe - a la BattleStar Galatica. Or The Three Stigmata of Palmer K. Eldritch. The desire to escape.
To find meaning. To deal with the unfathomable depths of the universe, the inability to comprehend that which is beyond us. Moral grey areas. Have 0 tolerance right now for Judeo-Christian morality tales or black and white morality tales. Star-Gate SG1 for instance? Makes me cringe and flip the channel. Just as Revelations did. And Joan of Arcadia recently. (Was fine with Joan until they ruined it by introducing the evil kid.) Had the same reaction to Point Pleasant. But Tru Calling? Intrigued me - because of the murkiness.
I'm fascinated by mud and murk at the moment apparently.
Noir also fascinates me. I think I may be writing it. Whether I want to or not, that's where my mind leads me. Into the murky blacks and greys of the noir universe. Okay, it's more modern noir - which is grey as opposed to the black it was in the 1930s. The anti-heroes, the tragic heroes, the poor souls who can not quite escape their environments, yet are heroic in the attempt to do so.
Not so keen on romance - unless it's angsty, twisted, biting, witty, but sappy/fluffy romance? Can't quite handle. Although you could say that fanfic I wrote was sappy - I beg to disagree, since it was hardly a romance. They are not riding into the sunset together. Buffy will leave Will on his mountaintop, to write his prose. They will part ways. It's merely a conversation, nothing more. I do not see these two characters setting up shop together or having sex. Yet I seem to crave romance - somehow. Again not the sappy variety. For instance, I adored the first 20-40 pages of herselfnyc's current WIP, the parts in Vietnam? But could not read a word after Buffy got to Rome. And finally gave up. Nor do I have the patience for the contemporary chick novels - such as Bridget Jones Edge of Reason, and countless others of that ilk.
I adore mysteries - but have no patience for the by the numbers, procedurals.
I want twisty stuff. Lost enthralls. Or maybe Patricia Highsmith. Or how about Minette Walters? Not sure I have the patience for Agatha Christie any longer, nor for that matter Janet Evanoich, who I once loved.
Finding I have a taste for horror, but not the stomach for it. At least not on film. Film? I prefer the psychological variety. But also like to sleep at night, so am staying well away from Ring2 and The Grudge. Books? Ah, I mean to read at some point Faber's Under the Skin, Frankenstein, Dracula, Sister Wolf by Ann Arensberg, and Peter Straub's Ghost Story (only seen the movie version - which is fascinating.)
The other tastes and interests will have to wait for another post, I think. Must go to bed. Get up at 6:55am after all. And have Salsa Class tomorrow night, where I hope I can remember the steps and not look too much the fool.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 01:20 pm (UTC)What about duty that comes not from external directives but from an inner sense that you have responsibility for others not just for yourself? That comes ultimately from empathy, from feeling connected, part of society. Interesting. Actually ignore what follows if you’d rather avoid more wanky BtVS analysis.
You could look at seasons 6 and 7 as mirror images with respect to the themes of duty and empathy. In 6 following her resurrection Buffy feels completely disconnected, she can’t feel empathy and as a consequence loses her internal moral compass and sense of duty/mission. She’s just going through the motions. Spike being soulless never had any of those things, although he seems in some way to want to want to, equating Buffy with feeling alive. In S7 Buffy has her mission back with a vengeance and Spike has his soul. Both get crushed under the weight of it all. Thesis, antithesis, and the synthesis is? Don't know, connection? Seeing that others are like you, loving someone for what they are not how they make you feel, discovering that duty really can be shared, that it’s mutual. Somebody stop me.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 07:19 pm (UTC)objectivist (that's Ayn Rand - not the same as individualist). Truth is?
I'm not sure I like pigeon holing myself - because there are aspects I like of each and aspects that make me crazy. I don't believe the world is black and white, no matter how much I try to make it - because that would make life simpler.
The fantasy mate thing is probably another problem I have with the writing. Her Spike is an ideal not a person and worse, that ideal isn’t mine
That's the thing about archetypes - they aren't real. And we all have our fantasies. Herself's Spike isn't my fantasy Spike either, to be honest.
Which may be my problem with it. That and the fact that I agree with you, every time I feel that she (and actually I'd include all the fanfic writers I've read in this mix including the folks writing the S6 Virtual fic) come close to exploring the character - they all stop short. Fall back on old bits.
You could look at seasons 6 and 7 as mirror images with respect to the themes of duty and empathy. In 6 following her resurrection Buffy feels completely disconnected, she can’t feel empathy and as a consequence loses her internal moral compass and sense of duty/mission. She’s just going through the motions. Spike being soulless never had any of those things, although he seems in some way to want to want to, equating Buffy with feeling alive. In S7 Buffy has her mission back with a vengeance and Spike has his soul. Both get crushed under the weight of it all. Thesis, antithesis, and the synthesis is? Don't know, connection? Seeing that others are like you, loving someone for what they are not how they make you feel, discovering that duty really can be shared, that it’s mutual. Somebody stop me.
I agree with this. Honestly, I think what you state above is exactly what the writers were doing with the characters. Buffy's relationship with Spike was in a way a metaphor for her relationship with her duty, being a slayer, and what a slayer entailed. It's no accident that He gets a soul, when she climbs out of her grave with her sister. Or that she shares her power and exits Sunnydale, moving past Angel, past her adolescence and on to Rome - when his soul elevates and burns up the demon he is closing the hellmouth. Also note - Spike comes to terms with his soul around the time that Buffy breaks free of Giles tutelage and comes to terms with being the leader. Spike's soul takes out all the demons in the hellmouth, right after Buffy faces down her own demonic alter-ego - the First literally wearing her face. Spike burns to a crisp and closes the hellmouth right after Buffy tells him she loves him then is able to leave him and her demons behind, letting them go, accepting what has happened, moving on.
If you look at the B/S relationship purely in those terms - it works straight through. And it's a lovely metaphor but not what obsessed or interested me with the series. The thing about art - is nine times out of ten it's not what the artist intended that is interesting, but what the viewer interprets or takes out of it that is.