enlightenment

"Before enlightenment I chopped wood and carried water; after enlightenment, I chopped wood and carried water." —ZEN saying

tell me

Is there anything worse when shopping than trying to find a well-fitting bra? Okay, a bathing suit maybe, but THAT you don't have to wear every day. For me, a comfortable bra is one that I don't feel at ALL, but unfortunately I've never found one of those brand new. No, that state is usually achieved after MANY years of use, which means of course that the bra no longer does most of the things it was originally designed to do. But really, why should we have to break in a bra the way we sometimes have to break in shoes?

Anyway, last week I finally went on my can't-possibly-wait-any-longer bra-shopping expedition, and luckily enough went into a store that offered a $5 dollar coupon if you were fitted first. After mentally trying to decide how stretched, ratty, and embarrassing my old bra would be and concluding I didn't give a damn, I offered myself up to a willing clerk who confirmed for me what I'd suspected for years. That my ideal band size is 35. Yep, not 34 or 36, the only sizes they make, but 35. Which means that the 34-size bra is always too tight, and the 36-size one (because of course they make the cups a bit bigger as well) is usually too loose. Sigh. And for some reason I have the same problem with my feet! They're in between too as my ideal size is 6½ or 6 Wide which is not always easy to find. Thus, I often end up with shoes that are either too small (size 6), or too big (size 7). Grrr.

But getting back to bras. So here I am in the changing room (and why is it that no matter how loooooooong you're in there you often end up with a bra that after an hour at home you decide doesn't quite fit anyway?) debating between the one bra that was too tight and the other that was too loose. I finally let the weary clerk (I swore I saw her roll her eyes at least once) talk me into buying the one that was too tight as she tried to reassure me that over time it would stretch. Hmmm.

Got home and when asked by my downstairs neighbour and friend what I'd been up to, he proceeded to inform me that he'd just watched an Oprah show on bra fitting, and that guaranteed, no matter what size I'd bought, I'd bought the wrong one. Now, I won't say that glaring looks or an escalating argument (starting with "what the hell would a non-bra-wearing person know about bras anyway, and why were YOU watching THAT particular episode?") ensued, but I won't deny it either. Snort.

After the prerequisite "darn, why did I buy THIS one?" hour at home, I decided I did not want to travel back and forth by bus again, and cleverly, or so I thought, hauled out an old shouldn't-really-be-worn-anymore back-up bra (every woman has at least one, no?), lopped off the part with the hooks, sewed it onto my brand-new yet-to-be-broken-into bra, and wished to high heaven that I'd been smart enough to buy a bottle of wine on the same trip.

Yep, looking forward to the next bra-buying excursion already.

my problem in a nutshell

"I like work—it fascinates me—I can sit and look at it for hours." —JEROME K. JEROME

stone reader

Listen to this:

In 1972, 18-year-old Mark Moskowitz buys a novel called The Stones of Summer by first-time author Dow Mossman, because an enthusiastic New York Times Review persuades him it is the book of a generation. Despite being an avid reader, Moskowitz can't get past the first 20 pages.

Twenty-five years later, Mark re-discovers the book, and this time he can't put it down. Enthralled with its story and wonderful originality, Mark tries to buy copies for his friends and to look for other works by the author. He can't find the book. He can't find a record of the author. He can't find anyone who has heard his name, let alone read the book.

The film chronicles filmmaker Mark Moskowitz's year-long search for Dow Mossman. Pursuing answers to the literary mystery, he crisscrossed the country, meeting, among others, Robert Gottlieb, editor of Catch-22, Frank Conroy, head of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and critic Leslie Fiedler. Cinematic, humorous and obsessive, the journey is a wistful, powerful affirmation of reading and what it means to us.

That is the description provided on the back of this two-disc DVD which was nominated for a Truer Than Fiction Award at the 2003 Independent Spirit Awards, and won a Special Grand Jury Honor Audience Award at the 2002 Slamdance Film Festival.

Roger Ebert loved it, and David Ansen of Newsweek said, "It's rare enough when a documentary achieves cult status. Rarer still when it actually changes lives. Stone Reader, a movie about the love of reading, manages to do both."

Sounds great, doesn't it? Although to be honest I'd never heard of this movie until two weeks ago, and only came across the title through a mention in Utne.

So, did I like it? I DON'T KNOW! Got it from the library, took it home, and found out that I can no longer use my VCR or DVD player as there's something wrong with my cable cord. I haven't had cable all summer, but was still able to use the cord to get some reception on my three remaining TV channels, and use both the DVD player and VCR. Oh well. Back to the library it went, unwatched, but one day!

Has anyone else by chance seen this? If so, what did you think?

number 7

Holland's narrowest house.

houses and windows

My love affair with houses and windows began a long time ago, and continues strong to this day. So strong, in fact, that I realized not too long ago that of my approximately thirty paintings and posters, fifteen of them are of houses, and five of those focus primarily on a window. Two of the window pictures are depictions from the outside, and three of them feature people or cats gazing out. I know the exact numbers because I went and counted. I did this in part because of how excited I was to see all the windows in country dweller's lovely house, and because it occurred to me that ALL of the photos and postcards I took and bought on my last trip to Holland were of houses.

As a child I loved sitting and daydreaming in front of a window, and hours could pass by as if they were mere seconds. I still do a lot of my creative thinking, problem solving, or just plain fretting in front of windows, and have always had my desk (and in later years my computer) positioned so that I could at least look out one window. Just the thought of facing a windowless wall while I write can make me claustrophobic, so you can well imagine what I think of workplace cubicles. Or houses with really tiny windows. I'm quite fortunate with my current apartment as I have five large windows (six if you count the one in the door), facing three directions so that I can happily look out the front, side and back.

I also love looking at houses and windows on my walks, preferably at night so I can peek right inside. Holland, by the way, is much more convenient in this regard as houses often come up right to the sidewalk and curtains are not the norm. At least, when I last lived and visited there. And cats in windows I find especially delightful, probably because they combine two of my favourite things.

But why this obsession with windows in the first place? Am I unique in this? I doubt it, but I don't often hear other people talk about it. Other than the light they bring in, and being able to look out of them, why are windows so important to me? Why is there such a strong pull, and why do even their representation make me so happy? And is that why a person's eyes are their most important feature to me? Because they're said to be the windows to their soul?

until

"Until you make peace with who you are, you'll never be content with what you have." —DORIS MORTMAN

a prince in disguise

My Catster friend Ethan's mom took this photo, and once again has graciously allowed me to pilfer it for my blog. As soon as I saw it though, it reminded me of the tale of the frog who when kissed turns into a prince, and I've always wondered about that. Why a frog per se? In truth I'm not really familiar with the narrative, not having been exposed to most of the books and fairy tales that North American children grow up with (cultural deprivation!), so I decided I'd better look it up. Here's a site containing various versions of the original Grimm story.

book by book

Happened across Michael Dirda's delightful Book by Book: Notes on Reading and Life, at the library a few weeks ago, and I'm glad it caught my eye. And because I'm terrible at writing book or movie reviews (a topic to be discussed in another post), I once again will take the easy way out and simply tell you what the inside cover says:

Once out of school, most people read for pleasure. But for some of us, there is an equally important reason that we read: to learn how to live. Drawing on sources as diverse as Dr. Seuss and Simone Weil, P.G. Wodehouse and Isaiah Berlin, Pulitzer Prize-winning critic Michael Dirda shows how the wit, wisdom and enchantment of the written word informs and enriches nearly every aspect of life, from education and work to love and death. From essential works for children to the handful of masterpieces that every reader should have at his command, Dirda offers us an opinionated, personal and idiosyncratic account of what—and how—to draw meaning from what we read.

Organized by significant life events and brimming with quotations from great writers and thinkers, Book by Book showcases Dirda's capacious love for and understanding of books. Through his suggested readings and brief essays he draws us deeper into the classics, as well as lesser-known works of literature, history, and philosophy, with an eye to how we might better understand our lives.

One of the many pleasures of this book was the abundance of quotes, and I particularly like the two that Dirda (staff writer for The Washington Post Book World), chose to open and close his thoughtful reflections with:

The main interest in life and work is to become someone else that you were not in the beginning. If you knew when you began a book what you would say at the end, do you think that you would have the courage to write it? What is true for writing and for a love relationship is true also for life. The game is worthwhile insofar as we don't know what will be at the end. —MICHEL FOUCAULT

At the day of Judgment we shall not be asked what we have read but what we have done. —THOMAS À KEMPIS

Good job, Mr. Dirda.

this made me laugh

What a girl! He had never in his life before met a woman who could write a letter without a postscript, and this was but the smallest of her unusual gifts. —P.G. WODEHOUSE

Snort. I believe the highest number of postscripts in any of my posts is five, but then, who's counting?

Um, do any of you Wodehouse fans know where I can find this particular passage? Thanks!

good enough

If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly. —G.K. CHESTERTON

I love this quote, in part because it helped me to better deal with my tendencies of perfectionism and procrastination. Okay, procrastination not as much (I'm still too much like Scarlett O'Hara in that regard), but definitely perfectionism. And I think the two are related. In fact, they're probably cousins. At any rate, for some reason I grew up believing that if you didn't do everything as perfectly as you possibly could, then you were better off not doing it at all. Silly of course, but hard to shake. I gradually learned that trying to do things perfectly was just going to slow me down and paralyse me in the process (hence procrastination), but it wasn't until I read the above quote a number of years ago that the absurdity of my way of doing things really sunk in.

Now it could be that Chesterton meant something completely different, but I've always liked to interpret his quote as saying that the enjoyment of a task is more important than the results per se, and that it doesn't necessarily have to be done well for it to be of value. In my case it meant that I didn't always have to strive for perfection. So, I adopted the "good enough" rule. As long as I could proclaim the results of what I'd done as good enough, then that was sufficient. This may seem simple, but boy, what a difference it made! It even helped with this post when I felt a bit stuck thinking that after #100 I should come up with something, well, not crappy. Snort. But then I remembered my rule, relaxed, and figured that maybe talking about the rule itself might be a good way to continue.

There, I feel better. And more prepared for the next one hundred posts. :)

p.s. haven't been able to keep up lately with some of my favourite blogs, but please know it's not because I don't enjoy your writing!

my 100th post!

Are you ready? Think you know what's coming up? Nope, that 100-things-about-me list ain't gonna happen. There are too many good ones out there already, and the last thing I need is MORE pressure. There, with that out of the way, don't you feel just a teensy bit relieved? Snort. But not to worry, when you're least expecting it, that's when I'll spring something similar!

I did want to commemorate the occasion though, so let me point out what Wikipedia says about 100. Besides the usual mathematical stuff like 100 being the square of 10, the sum of the first nine prime numbers, and the basis of percentages, it tells me that 100 is also:

* the number of verses in the pop song 99 Bottles of Beer
* the number of tiles in a standard Scrabble (my favourite game!) set
* the police telephone number in Greece, India and Israel
* the operator telephone number in the United Kingdom, and
* the record number of points scored in one NBA game

I then thought I'd list a few books with "one hundred" in the title to go along with one of my own favourites, One Hundred Years of Solitude, but when I checked my online local library listings, I found 1094 titles. Yikes! I certainly wasn't going to go through all of them and since my OCD tendencies will not allow me to check one without having to finish the entire list, well, you're just out of luck. Or IN luck, depending on your point of view.

So, a couple of quotes to round out the post instead:

Our sun is one of 100 billion stars in our galaxy. Our galaxy is one of billions of galaxies populating the universe. It would be the height of presumption to think that we are the only living beings in that enormous immensity. —WERNHER VON BRAUN (1912-77, German Rocket Pioneer)

Wonder if there is life on another planet? Let's suppose there is. Suppose further, that only one star in a trillion has a planet that could support life. If that were the case, then there would be at least 100 million planets that harboured life. —BEN SWEETLAND

Hmmm, interesting to think about. I usually don't though, because my brain can't fathom those types of numbers, or the implications. It's just too much. But this, THIS post, is my 100th, and THAT I can comprehend. :)