I have been called Anti-Harry Potter, most recently by my lovely husband. I was grumbling about something that I disliked about the series and he chuckled and said, "It's funny how anti-Harry Potter you are."
But I object. I am not Anti-Harry Potter.
So I thought I'd take a moment to explain what I am and am not towards the Harry Potter series.
I do not personally enjoy the series for various reasons that I will list in short:
1 - I don't enjoy most fantasy books, and Harry Potter is no exception. I have a hard time suspending reality in strange ways. I can handle some fantasy elements, but Diagon Alley does me in every time. Talking kettles? Other people say "Why not?" and I say in despair, "But WHY?"
2 - I don't think it's particularly well-written. I know most people disagree with me, but I can hold whichever opinion I like. I wasn't particularly compelled by the story line or characters or method of story telling. I have cared more about characters that were cats.
3 - It's not literature. It's a children's book. I don't object to children's books; in fact I quite like them. I object when people insist that the Harry Potter series is literature. In my opinion, it is not.
4 - I don't like the premise. The perfect ending to the Harry Potter series is that it never began - Harry would have died, even IF his mother died for him. I HATE this part of the series, and it's the part I feel strongest about.
5 - Regarding the movies: Some of them were poorly done. I object when people tell me this isn't true. Sorry, but movie 2? Watch it again, people. It's horrible. Movie 7.1? Not a movie. I would have preferred if someone had given me the whole movie in 10 sentences or less (which wouldn't have been hard to do), one of the sentences being, "And then they waited and waited."
But here's why I'm NOT Anti-Harry Potter:
1 - I don't care if you or your children read the books. And I don't even care if MY children read the books. We now own the entire book series, and Rob and Miciah have read and enjoyed them all. I have even retrieved some of the "extra" Harry Potter books for Miciah from the library without her requesting them. We also own the movie series and Rob and the kids are watching movie #4 as I write this post.
2 - It gets kids reading books. Great!
3 - It's a fun story line. I enjoy when people have read the books and then they tell me the details. This is very much how I feel about Tolkien's Silmarillion. I don't ever want to read it, but I like talking to people who have read it.
4 - Lastly, ANTI- is a strong feeling, and not one I have towards the Harry Potter series. I am Anti-Dan Brown for instance, and threatened to throw away the book Rob was reading if he didn't stop reading it right that second. He stopped reading a quarter of the way through the book, despite liking it, and hasn't finished reading it in the years since because I feel THAT strongly about it. In contrast, I have never once been tempted to tear Harry Potter out of anyone's hands. A similar series that I don't like but don't mind if you do: The revered Mormon series The Work and the Glory. You'll never catch me reading them (for similar reasons), but if you love them, then have at.
So there you go. I hope you read and love the Harry Potter series. However, I would also like it if you didn't expect me to know the spells. We can like different things - or, in this case, the whole world can like something and I can be one of the few dissenters.
Hope that helps!
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Monday, January 2, 2012
Thursday, September 8, 2011
10 Years
I was listening to the radio while driving my nearly 10-year-old daughter to piano lessons last night. It happened to be on NPR, which I don't listen to as a general rule (my husband listens to it and then reports to me all the good stuff, while I get to listen to music I enjoy. It's a great arrangement), and before I could change the station, the segment caught my attention. It was about a woman who lost her mother in the 9/11 attacks. I listened as she talked about some of her struggles dealing with such a great loss in the national spotlight. I was intrigued by her experience. It wasn't until the NPR guy said at the end of the segment that there would soon be a 10-year tribute that it dawned on me that it really has been a decade since that day. I said, "Oh yeah. It's been 10 years."
And my daughter asked, "10 years since what?"
I was floored. How could she not know? "Since nine eleven." She was silent. "Do you know what that is?" "No." "The nine eleven attacks? Twin towers? Osama bin Laden?" Nope, nope, nope.
Woah.
So I set about explaining, in pretty simple terms, what happened on that day. About Osama bin Laden and terrorism. I think it was the first time we'd even talked about the concept of terrorism. We talked about the men who hijacked the planes, and the passengers who fought back and went down with the plane in Pennsylvania. We talked about the images on TV, about watching the towers fall to the ground, and then the dust that was everywhere. About the rubble, and searching for survivors. "You wouldn't believe it, Miciah. It was crazy." Then we talked about the wars our country is fighting (she knew about those - we sometimes talk about them) and about how those stemmed from that one crazy, unbelievable day. We talked about Osama bin Laden, and how our country just issued an order to go in and kill him, and about how it's weird to be happy that someone was killed.
Miciah was silent and solemn for most of the conversation, and occasionally threw in a "That's awful."
I was surprised how sad I still am about what happened that day. I found myself suppressing the getting-choked-up feeling, my chest getting tight, and tears right behind my eyes. I talked to Miciah about how sad we all were, for a long time. How comedians stopped their work for a while because no one wanted to laugh. Things just didn't seem very funny. It truly was a life-changing day.
Strange that I was pregnant with her when 9/11 happened. Strange that an event that so impacted my life and my time was unknown to her, even though she's so young.
On the one hand, I'm glad she didn't know. I'm glad she didn't have to live through that. But on the other hand, it's so important for her to understand this event that has shaped our last 10 years*. If we really can prevent repeating history by learning about it, then by golly, this rising generation better learn about 9/11!
(*It seems a little over-the-top to say that this event "shaped our last 10 years", but in this case, I don't think it's an exaggeration. Could you imagine what the last decade would have looked like if the 9/11 events hadn't happened?)
And my daughter asked, "10 years since what?"
I was floored. How could she not know? "Since nine eleven." She was silent. "Do you know what that is?" "No." "The nine eleven attacks? Twin towers? Osama bin Laden?" Nope, nope, nope.
Woah.
So I set about explaining, in pretty simple terms, what happened on that day. About Osama bin Laden and terrorism. I think it was the first time we'd even talked about the concept of terrorism. We talked about the men who hijacked the planes, and the passengers who fought back and went down with the plane in Pennsylvania. We talked about the images on TV, about watching the towers fall to the ground, and then the dust that was everywhere. About the rubble, and searching for survivors. "You wouldn't believe it, Miciah. It was crazy." Then we talked about the wars our country is fighting (she knew about those - we sometimes talk about them) and about how those stemmed from that one crazy, unbelievable day. We talked about Osama bin Laden, and how our country just issued an order to go in and kill him, and about how it's weird to be happy that someone was killed.
Miciah was silent and solemn for most of the conversation, and occasionally threw in a "That's awful."
I was surprised how sad I still am about what happened that day. I found myself suppressing the getting-choked-up feeling, my chest getting tight, and tears right behind my eyes. I talked to Miciah about how sad we all were, for a long time. How comedians stopped their work for a while because no one wanted to laugh. Things just didn't seem very funny. It truly was a life-changing day.
Strange that I was pregnant with her when 9/11 happened. Strange that an event that so impacted my life and my time was unknown to her, even though she's so young.
On the one hand, I'm glad she didn't know. I'm glad she didn't have to live through that. But on the other hand, it's so important for her to understand this event that has shaped our last 10 years*. If we really can prevent repeating history by learning about it, then by golly, this rising generation better learn about 9/11!
(*It seems a little over-the-top to say that this event "shaped our last 10 years", but in this case, I don't think it's an exaggeration. Could you imagine what the last decade would have looked like if the 9/11 events hadn't happened?)
Friday, September 24, 2010
Mockingjay, I Hate You
The last book of the Hunger Games series was a disappointment.
It wasn't just that I thought Katniss ended up with the wrong guy. I mean, real life happens like that, right? But she had to end up with Haymitch, the drunk who was a few decades her senior. And that was even after he killed her mother in a drunken rage. I suppose it's a good lesson in forgiveness. But did she learn anything? She just became a drunk herself and married him because he was the only one willing to try to repopulate District 12 after it was burned to the ground. It certainly made me re-analyze every conversation with Haymitch in the last 2 books when he finally confessed, in the closing pages of book 3, that he'd always been attracted to Katniss.
When Peeta was killed in battle by a mutt that was a 12-foot tall mockingjay with a lizard tail and eyes remarkably similar to Gale's, I thought, "Well, I suppose it's best they didn't end up together, anyway."
And Gale wasn't such a jerk after all. I was grateful for that development above all others. He showed such kindness, and such composure under pressure. He downed people with his arrows and then prayed over their bodies. Every time! It brought in an element of the spiritual that I wasn't expecting. When Peeta died, I thought, "Oh, good! Katniss and Gale will end up together!" But in the end I respected Gale's choice to become a celibate monk, roaming from shattered district to shattered district, spreading the message of the Gospel. Go, Gale!
The stolen kiss between President Snow and President Coin, leader of the Rebel movement, was unexpected. I couldn't decide if it was a genuine kiss or not. I mean, I think it was, but then she stabbed him through the heart so that she could take over power. And that kinda muddied the waters a little. The peek we get of her tattoo, the one that was probably a profile shot of President Snow, or "George, my Love," as she calls him, decided for me: She really did love him. It's a sad tale of tortured love.
But the part that disappointed me the MOST was that Katniss was still a whiner. I tired of her seemingly endless indecision and self-pity. Not saying I would have handled it better, but I hope I wouldn't have married a drunk in the end as a way to run away from it all. Ah, who am I kidding? I would have ended up a drunk, too.
Suzanne Collins, couldn't you have answered some of the questions you brought up in books 1 and 2? No? Did you know YOURSELF what the answers were? I'm starting to think that you didn't. Bummer.
It wasn't just that I thought Katniss ended up with the wrong guy. I mean, real life happens like that, right? But she had to end up with Haymitch, the drunk who was a few decades her senior. And that was even after he killed her mother in a drunken rage. I suppose it's a good lesson in forgiveness. But did she learn anything? She just became a drunk herself and married him because he was the only one willing to try to repopulate District 12 after it was burned to the ground. It certainly made me re-analyze every conversation with Haymitch in the last 2 books when he finally confessed, in the closing pages of book 3, that he'd always been attracted to Katniss.
When Peeta was killed in battle by a mutt that was a 12-foot tall mockingjay with a lizard tail and eyes remarkably similar to Gale's, I thought, "Well, I suppose it's best they didn't end up together, anyway."
And Gale wasn't such a jerk after all. I was grateful for that development above all others. He showed such kindness, and such composure under pressure. He downed people with his arrows and then prayed over their bodies. Every time! It brought in an element of the spiritual that I wasn't expecting. When Peeta died, I thought, "Oh, good! Katniss and Gale will end up together!" But in the end I respected Gale's choice to become a celibate monk, roaming from shattered district to shattered district, spreading the message of the Gospel. Go, Gale!
The stolen kiss between President Snow and President Coin, leader of the Rebel movement, was unexpected. I couldn't decide if it was a genuine kiss or not. I mean, I think it was, but then she stabbed him through the heart so that she could take over power. And that kinda muddied the waters a little. The peek we get of her tattoo, the one that was probably a profile shot of President Snow, or "George, my Love," as she calls him, decided for me: She really did love him. It's a sad tale of tortured love.
But the part that disappointed me the MOST was that Katniss was still a whiner. I tired of her seemingly endless indecision and self-pity. Not saying I would have handled it better, but I hope I wouldn't have married a drunk in the end as a way to run away from it all. Ah, who am I kidding? I would have ended up a drunk, too.
Suzanne Collins, couldn't you have answered some of the questions you brought up in books 1 and 2? No? Did you know YOURSELF what the answers were? I'm starting to think that you didn't. Bummer.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
A Moderate Minimalist Movement
I'm sure this won't shock you to hear, if you know me at all, but I'm something of a minimalist. I like the ideas contained in the movement, particularly that Stuff doesn't make one happy. I'm not entirely 100% sure what does make one happy (I'll admit it), but I know that Stuff isn't the answer to that question.
So minimalism it is. And this is what minimalism looks like, Tamra style:
- I don't wear make-up or even brush my hair most days. Seriously, you want me to spend how much time getting ready for my day? No thanks.
- I once spent about half a year not wearing shoes, even in some public places, including restrooms.
- I don't wash my body with soap, except under extreme dirty conditions.
- I support spending less, driving less, using less, and owning less. (This is hard to do, FYI.)
- I support the hippie-liberal Going Green movement. Oh, wait. That's mainstream now. ...
- I often spend my days doing nothing. Just sitting around, reading a book, cuddling with my kids. I might not even change out of my pajamas. Sometimes, in the midst of our crazy lives, less is more.
- I've started growing my own food, and stopped caring as much about my lawn. Hurrays to go around!
- I like purging. Too many clothes in the closet? Toss half. (Or donate them. That's what I do.) Too many toys (and nearly everyone has too many toys)? Get rid of half. And honestly, I think 50% is a good estimate. I think most of us could get rid of half of what we own and not miss it.
But minimalism can be taken too far. Way too far. I think there is a fine line between being a minimalist and being insane. Guy who lives in a cave and has nearly no contact with the outside world, you've probably crossed the line. Couple who purged your personal belongs down to a mere 100, ... you may not actually be insane, and good for you, actually! But not good for me.
So it turns out that I'm not actually a minimalist. I'm more of a moderate minimalist. "Moderation in all things, including minimalism," Benjamin Franklin once said. So let's go through that list again, and then I'll tell you my new goal (or motto, or mantra, or whatever you want to call it).
- I do actually wear make-up sometimes (think once a month or less). Cause it can be fun.
- I now wear shoes because, you know, people like it when you do that. Turns out it makes people very uncomfortable when you choose to not wear shoes. For the last decade I've been searching for the simplest sandal in the world because I'm a hippie out of my time. And now I've found these shoes, and I may not put on another pair of shoes again.
- I wash my pits with soap. And I use shampoo and conditioner. Also, I use hygiene products.
- I try to spend less, drive less, use less, and own less. But involving my kids in activities while living in suburbia pretty well means a lot of driving. I do own a small home (though not this small), and I have no desire to own a larger home, but I do have a desire to own more land because gardens are fantastic, and I'd love to have a few chickens, too!
- Going Green is great. But I still take long showers, and I rinse my dishes before I put them in the dishwasher, and I don't always put my clothes on the line to dry, etc., etc., etc.
- Doing nothing may be my strongest area of minimalism. But then again, I'm still reading (which is something, not nothing), and I own a TV (though I don't often watch it), and a computer with an internet connection. Man, and I thought I was strong on this point!
- Having a garden is fantastic! I need more garden space. But owning a yard at all increases suburban sprawl. It's a dilemma.
Purging gets its own paragraph, because it was while purging that I came up with my new goal. I often go through the kids' toys and get rid of non-important toys. My husband, in general, will object to the purging by saying something like, "They like to play with that toy!" Yes, and the 400 other toys we own. Let it go, my friend. Let it go.
It was while looking at our somewhat too large movie collection, thinking of how to decide on the method of scaling it back, that I came up with my new goal: Only own things that I value. Not things that are just nice to have or convenient to have. Things that I value. I think that's the great lie that was sold to us: owning things will make you happy. I don't need to own things just to own them! But I do want to own things that I value.
And so the world opened up to me. It solves my issues with minimalism. Why don't I want to live in 180-square-feet? Because I put value in my somewhat larger home. Why do I want a garden? Because I value having pretty flowers and home-grown food. Why do I keep The Last Airbender TV series on DVD? Because my family cherishes it.
Well, there you have it. My Moderate Minimalist Movement. The goal is to only own things that you value. Join me!
So minimalism it is. And this is what minimalism looks like, Tamra style:
- I don't wear make-up or even brush my hair most days. Seriously, you want me to spend how much time getting ready for my day? No thanks.
- I once spent about half a year not wearing shoes, even in some public places, including restrooms.
- I don't wash my body with soap, except under extreme dirty conditions.
- I support spending less, driving less, using less, and owning less. (This is hard to do, FYI.)
- I support the hippie-liberal Going Green movement. Oh, wait. That's mainstream now. ...
- I often spend my days doing nothing. Just sitting around, reading a book, cuddling with my kids. I might not even change out of my pajamas. Sometimes, in the midst of our crazy lives, less is more.
- I've started growing my own food, and stopped caring as much about my lawn. Hurrays to go around!
- I like purging. Too many clothes in the closet? Toss half. (Or donate them. That's what I do.) Too many toys (and nearly everyone has too many toys)? Get rid of half. And honestly, I think 50% is a good estimate. I think most of us could get rid of half of what we own and not miss it.
But minimalism can be taken too far. Way too far. I think there is a fine line between being a minimalist and being insane. Guy who lives in a cave and has nearly no contact with the outside world, you've probably crossed the line. Couple who purged your personal belongs down to a mere 100, ... you may not actually be insane, and good for you, actually! But not good for me.
So it turns out that I'm not actually a minimalist. I'm more of a moderate minimalist. "Moderation in all things, including minimalism," Benjamin Franklin once said. So let's go through that list again, and then I'll tell you my new goal (or motto, or mantra, or whatever you want to call it).
- I do actually wear make-up sometimes (think once a month or less). Cause it can be fun.
- I now wear shoes because, you know, people like it when you do that. Turns out it makes people very uncomfortable when you choose to not wear shoes. For the last decade I've been searching for the simplest sandal in the world because I'm a hippie out of my time. And now I've found these shoes, and I may not put on another pair of shoes again.
- I wash my pits with soap. And I use shampoo and conditioner. Also, I use hygiene products.
- I try to spend less, drive less, use less, and own less. But involving my kids in activities while living in suburbia pretty well means a lot of driving. I do own a small home (though not this small), and I have no desire to own a larger home, but I do have a desire to own more land because gardens are fantastic, and I'd love to have a few chickens, too!
- Going Green is great. But I still take long showers, and I rinse my dishes before I put them in the dishwasher, and I don't always put my clothes on the line to dry, etc., etc., etc.
- Doing nothing may be my strongest area of minimalism. But then again, I'm still reading (which is something, not nothing), and I own a TV (though I don't often watch it), and a computer with an internet connection. Man, and I thought I was strong on this point!
- Having a garden is fantastic! I need more garden space. But owning a yard at all increases suburban sprawl. It's a dilemma.
Purging gets its own paragraph, because it was while purging that I came up with my new goal. I often go through the kids' toys and get rid of non-important toys. My husband, in general, will object to the purging by saying something like, "They like to play with that toy!" Yes, and the 400 other toys we own. Let it go, my friend. Let it go.
It was while looking at our somewhat too large movie collection, thinking of how to decide on the method of scaling it back, that I came up with my new goal: Only own things that I value. Not things that are just nice to have or convenient to have. Things that I value. I think that's the great lie that was sold to us: owning things will make you happy. I don't need to own things just to own them! But I do want to own things that I value.
And so the world opened up to me. It solves my issues with minimalism. Why don't I want to live in 180-square-feet? Because I put value in my somewhat larger home. Why do I want a garden? Because I value having pretty flowers and home-grown food. Why do I keep The Last Airbender TV series on DVD? Because my family cherishes it.
Well, there you have it. My Moderate Minimalist Movement. The goal is to only own things that you value. Join me!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
"Do you like her?"
My brother is getting married. When I tell people that he's getting married (not that I tell many people, because most of my friends have no idea who my brother is), they inevitably ask me this question: "Do you like the girl?"
I'd like to address this question.
I've never met her. I've sent her e-mails, she's sent me e-mails. She's recommended a few books for me to read (which I haven't read yet. Sorry). I've seen a picture of her. ... But I've never met her.
So when I tell people that I've never met her they say, "Oh." Like, "Well, then you don't really know."
But I DO know: She's wonderful.
My brother, he's my best friend. My husband, of course, is my best friend, but he's not the jealous type, and he allows me to say that my brother is my original best friend. My brother can still finish my sentences, and he knows what I'm trying to say, even if I'm saying it wrong. He has a Sixth Sense, a Tamra Sense: he knows me better than I know myself, and I like to think that that's hard to do, because I like to think I know myself pretty well. In that way, I trust my brother more than I trust myself. When I'm feeling crazy, like there must be something wrong with me, I turn to my brother. He tells me I'm not crazy, that it's impossible, and I know he's right. My brother is always right about such things.
One time, I was feeling so low that I was ready to throw away everything I thought I knew about myself. I was ready to admit that I really actually was crazy. That I needed to re-think everything I've ever done, big or small. And the one sliver of hope I held onto was my brother saying, "If you're crazy, I'm crazy, too." And I knew that my brother wasn't crazy. So I knew I wasn't crazy. He said, "If it's either you that's crazy or the world, then it's clearly the world." And that was my lifeline: I can't be crazy because my brother isn't crazy. The WORLD is crazy.
And my brother, this person whom I trust with the ability to assess my sanity, to tell me my life is worthless or wonderful, he's chosen a woman to marry, and she's chosen him, too.
What could she be other than wonderful?
I'd like to address this question.
I've never met her. I've sent her e-mails, she's sent me e-mails. She's recommended a few books for me to read (which I haven't read yet. Sorry). I've seen a picture of her. ... But I've never met her.
So when I tell people that I've never met her they say, "Oh." Like, "Well, then you don't really know."
But I DO know: She's wonderful.
My brother, he's my best friend. My husband, of course, is my best friend, but he's not the jealous type, and he allows me to say that my brother is my original best friend. My brother can still finish my sentences, and he knows what I'm trying to say, even if I'm saying it wrong. He has a Sixth Sense, a Tamra Sense: he knows me better than I know myself, and I like to think that that's hard to do, because I like to think I know myself pretty well. In that way, I trust my brother more than I trust myself. When I'm feeling crazy, like there must be something wrong with me, I turn to my brother. He tells me I'm not crazy, that it's impossible, and I know he's right. My brother is always right about such things.
One time, I was feeling so low that I was ready to throw away everything I thought I knew about myself. I was ready to admit that I really actually was crazy. That I needed to re-think everything I've ever done, big or small. And the one sliver of hope I held onto was my brother saying, "If you're crazy, I'm crazy, too." And I knew that my brother wasn't crazy. So I knew I wasn't crazy. He said, "If it's either you that's crazy or the world, then it's clearly the world." And that was my lifeline: I can't be crazy because my brother isn't crazy. The WORLD is crazy.
And my brother, this person whom I trust with the ability to assess my sanity, to tell me my life is worthless or wonderful, he's chosen a woman to marry, and she's chosen him, too.
What could she be other than wonderful?
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
American Community Survey
About a week ago we got a friendly note from our government informing us that on top of the 2010 Census forms we would be asked to fill out, we had been randomly selected to fill out the American Community Survey. It's a more in-depth questionnaire, they told us, and we would need to fill out BOTH forms. By law, the extra American Community Survey isn't "extra" at all: if we don't fill it out, they can hunt us down and shoot us. (That was in the fine print.)
No problem. I can fill out a survey. We got it in the mail yesterday and it informed me that it would take me about 38 minutes to fill out. I started right then.
So what does the government want to know? As it turns out, a whole bunch of stuff! Not only where Rob works, but how many hours a week he works, what kind of company he works for, and even when he leaves for work in the morning and how long his commute is! Not just if we own a house, but how many rooms it has (by their definition, by removing the wall between our kitchen and dining room, we downsized our house a whole room!), what our gas and electric bill was last month, what our 12 MONTH water bill is, what the annual real estate tax is and if it's included with our mortgage payment or not. ... Why does the government need to know some of this stuff?
One thing I do want to know is this: What do I put down for Ethnic background? The survey wanted to know if I considered myself English or Russian or Finnish or Scandinavian, etc. Well, I consider myself American, honestly. How many generations does one's family need to be in the States before we're just American and no longer Other? I mean, on my father's side, we can trace our roots back to America in the 1700's. That was almost 300 years ago! Aren't we American yet?! ... My solution: I put down Prussian/American for mine, and English/American for Rob's. For my kids I put down American. Period.
The survey's in the mailbox right now, and it really wasn't that hard to fill out, but I think they should have warned me that it would require me searching through tax documents, housing and insurance paperwork, and old water bills. ... I guess I'm just glad that about a month ago I decided to fire our Secretary in Charge of the Filing Cabinet (aka Rob), and just filed everything myself. So everything was right where it should have been, and finding all that paperwork was easy.
No problem. I can fill out a survey. We got it in the mail yesterday and it informed me that it would take me about 38 minutes to fill out. I started right then.
So what does the government want to know? As it turns out, a whole bunch of stuff! Not only where Rob works, but how many hours a week he works, what kind of company he works for, and even when he leaves for work in the morning and how long his commute is! Not just if we own a house, but how many rooms it has (by their definition, by removing the wall between our kitchen and dining room, we downsized our house a whole room!), what our gas and electric bill was last month, what our 12 MONTH water bill is, what the annual real estate tax is and if it's included with our mortgage payment or not. ... Why does the government need to know some of this stuff?
One thing I do want to know is this: What do I put down for Ethnic background? The survey wanted to know if I considered myself English or Russian or Finnish or Scandinavian, etc. Well, I consider myself American, honestly. How many generations does one's family need to be in the States before we're just American and no longer Other? I mean, on my father's side, we can trace our roots back to America in the 1700's. That was almost 300 years ago! Aren't we American yet?! ... My solution: I put down Prussian/American for mine, and English/American for Rob's. For my kids I put down American. Period.
The survey's in the mailbox right now, and it really wasn't that hard to fill out, but I think they should have warned me that it would require me searching through tax documents, housing and insurance paperwork, and old water bills. ... I guess I'm just glad that about a month ago I decided to fire our Secretary in Charge of the Filing Cabinet (aka Rob), and just filed everything myself. So everything was right where it should have been, and finding all that paperwork was easy.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Sort-of Stolen Paragraph #13, with Attached Commentary
A few weeks ago I was formulating this theory about college. About why I didn't finish. ... There are lots of reasons why, but I started coming up with a theory revolving around too much expectation and too much talent. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty smart.
And then I read these paragraphs in The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz. They're more or less randomly inserted in the book as a pet topic of Schwartz's. He does this often (don't buy a Kia, and we can't change the fact that we're fat) but this one was the most interesting to me since it aligns most closely with what I think myself. Which means it must be genius. Ahem:
"I'm fortunate to teach at a college that attracts some of the most talented young people in the world. While students at many colleges are happy to discover a subject to study that not only do they enjoy but that will enable them to make a living, many of the students I teach have multiple interests and capabilities. These students face the task of deciding on the one thing that they want to do more than anything else. Unconstrained by limitations of talent, the world is open to them. Do they exult in this opportunity? Not most of the ones I talk to. Instead, they agonize: Between making money and doing something of lasting social value. Between challenging their intellects and exercising their creative impulses. Between work that demands single-mindedness and work that will enable them to live balanced lives. Between work they can do in a beautifully pastoral location and work that brings them to a bustling city. Between any work at all and further study. With a decision as important as this, they struggle to find the reasons that make one choice stand out above all the others.
"In addition, because of the flexibility that now characterizes relations among family, friends, and lovers, my students can't even use obligation to other people as a way to limit their possibilities. Where the people they love are located and how close to them they want to be are just more factors to be entered into the decision, to be traded off against various aspects of the jobs themselves. Everything is up for grabs; almost anything is possible. And each possibility they consider has its attractive features, so that the opportunity costs associated with those attractive options keep mounting up, making the whole decision-making process decidedly unattractive. What, they wonder, is the right thing to do? How can they know?
"As this chapter has shown, decisions like these arouse discomfort, and they force indecision. Students take time off, take on odd jobs, try out internships, hoping that the right answer to the "What should I be when I grow up?" question will emerge. One quickly learns that "What are you going to do when you graduate?" is not a question many students are eager to hear, let alone answer. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that my students might be better off with a little less talent or with a little more of a sense that they owed it to their families to settle down back home, or even a dose of Depression-era necessity--take a secure job and get on with it! With fewer options and more constraints, many trade-offs would be eliminated, and there would be less self-doubt, less of an effort to justify decisions, more satisfaction, and less second-guessing of the decisions once made."
I realized, after reading those words, that that's it! I didn't finish because I couldn't figure out which criteria was the Right Criteria to choose my Direction and eliminate other options. Do I choose the Most Noble Path, and if I do, which path is that? Everyone disagrees on that point. Do I choose the profession that will bring the most money? Do I choose the one that will bring the most worldly praise? ... I was supposed to "want" to be a professional, but I didn't WANT to be a professional. I'm a stress-avoider, so I can't be a professional. Ever. ... And some of my other choices, what I wanted to do, didn't make enough money for my loved ones to be happy with that choice. Besides, I had too much "potential" for that. It was below me.
Growing up, and especially in High School, I would tell my mom that I wanted to be mediocre. It was a dream of mine: Be mediocre. And I'm happy to say that I've pretty well achieved that. By the world's standards, I'm nothing special. Strangely, then, being mediocre makes me feel accomplished.
Take that, Life.
And then I read these paragraphs in The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz. They're more or less randomly inserted in the book as a pet topic of Schwartz's. He does this often (don't buy a Kia, and we can't change the fact that we're fat) but this one was the most interesting to me since it aligns most closely with what I think myself. Which means it must be genius. Ahem:
"I'm fortunate to teach at a college that attracts some of the most talented young people in the world. While students at many colleges are happy to discover a subject to study that not only do they enjoy but that will enable them to make a living, many of the students I teach have multiple interests and capabilities. These students face the task of deciding on the one thing that they want to do more than anything else. Unconstrained by limitations of talent, the world is open to them. Do they exult in this opportunity? Not most of the ones I talk to. Instead, they agonize: Between making money and doing something of lasting social value. Between challenging their intellects and exercising their creative impulses. Between work that demands single-mindedness and work that will enable them to live balanced lives. Between work they can do in a beautifully pastoral location and work that brings them to a bustling city. Between any work at all and further study. With a decision as important as this, they struggle to find the reasons that make one choice stand out above all the others.
"In addition, because of the flexibility that now characterizes relations among family, friends, and lovers, my students can't even use obligation to other people as a way to limit their possibilities. Where the people they love are located and how close to them they want to be are just more factors to be entered into the decision, to be traded off against various aspects of the jobs themselves. Everything is up for grabs; almost anything is possible. And each possibility they consider has its attractive features, so that the opportunity costs associated with those attractive options keep mounting up, making the whole decision-making process decidedly unattractive. What, they wonder, is the right thing to do? How can they know?
"As this chapter has shown, decisions like these arouse discomfort, and they force indecision. Students take time off, take on odd jobs, try out internships, hoping that the right answer to the "What should I be when I grow up?" question will emerge. One quickly learns that "What are you going to do when you graduate?" is not a question many students are eager to hear, let alone answer. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that my students might be better off with a little less talent or with a little more of a sense that they owed it to their families to settle down back home, or even a dose of Depression-era necessity--take a secure job and get on with it! With fewer options and more constraints, many trade-offs would be eliminated, and there would be less self-doubt, less of an effort to justify decisions, more satisfaction, and less second-guessing of the decisions once made."
I realized, after reading those words, that that's it! I didn't finish because I couldn't figure out which criteria was the Right Criteria to choose my Direction and eliminate other options. Do I choose the Most Noble Path, and if I do, which path is that? Everyone disagrees on that point. Do I choose the profession that will bring the most money? Do I choose the one that will bring the most worldly praise? ... I was supposed to "want" to be a professional, but I didn't WANT to be a professional. I'm a stress-avoider, so I can't be a professional. Ever. ... And some of my other choices, what I wanted to do, didn't make enough money for my loved ones to be happy with that choice. Besides, I had too much "potential" for that. It was below me.
Growing up, and especially in High School, I would tell my mom that I wanted to be mediocre. It was a dream of mine: Be mediocre. And I'm happy to say that I've pretty well achieved that. By the world's standards, I'm nothing special. Strangely, then, being mediocre makes me feel accomplished.
Take that, Life.
 |
| Schwartz |
Monday, November 23, 2009
Obama and Bob
Maybe this has been said before, but I just noticed, while reading a children's book to my kids, that Obama stole his catchphrase from Bob the Builder.
"Can we build it?"
"YES, WE CAN!"
Just saying.
"Can we build it?"
"YES, WE CAN!"
Just saying.
Friday, November 13, 2009
King Kong and the Ideal Woman
I dislike watching movies. But Rob loves it, so I've been trying to find some movies that I can stomach watching with him. It's hard to do, since I've become so disenchanted by Hollywood recently. Even movies that I've liked have had unfortunate scenes in them, and that's too bad.
Apparently I'm a prude.
So I've started going to the library and picking out only movies that I know will be 100% non-objectionable. My first choice: Mr. Bean's Holiday. I was so confident about it that we watched it as a family. Which was interesting. Miciah thought it was funny (she even wanted to renew it so she could watch it again) but the boys were bored. Elijah kept saying, "Can I play the wii now?" I liked it well enough, but I wondered if my picky movie tastes had really brought me to the point of thinking sub-par Mr. Bean movies are hilarious. That's a harrowing thought.
My second pick: King Kong. As in, the ORIGINAL King Kong. I was suddenly shamed by the fact that I had never seen such a classic American movie. In fact, I wasn't even aware it was supposed to be a Beauty and the Beast tale (nor that his name was just Kong and King was a title because he was King of the jungle where he lived).
And we watched it. Clearly, it doesn't look realistic. But it was a well-done movie (so long as you don't mind the shallow plot line and lack of character development), and I felt my pulse quicken a few times. I could definitely see how it would have rocked America's world in 1933.
What especially delighted me about this movie, though, was analyzing what the portrayal of the lead lady and her romantic interest said about what men wanted in an ideal woman back then, and what women would accept (or even expected?) from their men. Absolutely fascinating.
According to this movie, the ideal woman that men were seeking in 1933 was beautiful, wilting, eager to please, completely dependent on men, compliant, eternally optimistic, naive, nice to a fault, excitable, lacked reasoning capabilities, and always needed saving (she was CLEARLY incapable of saving herself).
I'm going to compare her to Miciah's Barbie movies (which are all exactly the same). I contend that since Barbie is the "ideal woman," the way they represent her in the movies is how we feel about the ideal woman today. I'd like you to not argue my movie choice until you see the list (it's pretty favorable).
So, according to the Barbie movies, the ideal woman that men are seeking in 2009 is beautiful, eternally optimistic, independent, intelligent, able to fend for herself, intensely loyal to friends, doesn't need a man (but wouldn't mind one either), does what's right no matter what, helpful and nice.
(Now you can argue the choice. But I don't much care if you do. You can choose another modern movie if you want.)
It just cracked me up, watching King Kong and listening to the dialogue. I thought, "They could NOT put this in a movie now." I even laughed out loud at this exchange (not exact quotes, but close):
Romantic Interest: "Women on a ship are a bother."
Ideal Woman: "Oh, I haven't been a bother, have I? I've tried so hard not to be."
Romantic Interest: "Of course you've been a bother. Just by being here. But you can't help it, I guess. You're a woman. All women are bothers."
Awesome.
Apparently I'm a prude.
So I've started going to the library and picking out only movies that I know will be 100% non-objectionable. My first choice: Mr. Bean's Holiday. I was so confident about it that we watched it as a family. Which was interesting. Miciah thought it was funny (she even wanted to renew it so she could watch it again) but the boys were bored. Elijah kept saying, "Can I play the wii now?" I liked it well enough, but I wondered if my picky movie tastes had really brought me to the point of thinking sub-par Mr. Bean movies are hilarious. That's a harrowing thought.
My second pick: King Kong. As in, the ORIGINAL King Kong. I was suddenly shamed by the fact that I had never seen such a classic American movie. In fact, I wasn't even aware it was supposed to be a Beauty and the Beast tale (nor that his name was just Kong and King was a title because he was King of the jungle where he lived).
And we watched it. Clearly, it doesn't look realistic. But it was a well-done movie (so long as you don't mind the shallow plot line and lack of character development), and I felt my pulse quicken a few times. I could definitely see how it would have rocked America's world in 1933.
What especially delighted me about this movie, though, was analyzing what the portrayal of the lead lady and her romantic interest said about what men wanted in an ideal woman back then, and what women would accept (or even expected?) from their men. Absolutely fascinating.
According to this movie, the ideal woman that men were seeking in 1933 was beautiful, wilting, eager to please, completely dependent on men, compliant, eternally optimistic, naive, nice to a fault, excitable, lacked reasoning capabilities, and always needed saving (she was CLEARLY incapable of saving herself).
I'm going to compare her to Miciah's Barbie movies (which are all exactly the same). I contend that since Barbie is the "ideal woman," the way they represent her in the movies is how we feel about the ideal woman today. I'd like you to not argue my movie choice until you see the list (it's pretty favorable).
So, according to the Barbie movies, the ideal woman that men are seeking in 2009 is beautiful, eternally optimistic, independent, intelligent, able to fend for herself, intensely loyal to friends, doesn't need a man (but wouldn't mind one either), does what's right no matter what, helpful and nice.
(Now you can argue the choice. But I don't much care if you do. You can choose another modern movie if you want.)
It just cracked me up, watching King Kong and listening to the dialogue. I thought, "They could NOT put this in a movie now." I even laughed out loud at this exchange (not exact quotes, but close):
Romantic Interest: "Women on a ship are a bother."
Ideal Woman: "Oh, I haven't been a bother, have I? I've tried so hard not to be."
Romantic Interest: "Of course you've been a bother. Just by being here. But you can't help it, I guess. You're a woman. All women are bothers."
Awesome.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Stolen Paragraph #11
From An Anthropologist on Mars, by Oliver Sacks, pg. 138:
"Marius von Senden, reviewing every published case [of restoring sight to an adult who had been blind his whole life] over a three-hundred-year period in his classic book Space and Sight (1932), concluded that every newly sighted adult sooner or later comes to a "motivation crisis"--and that not every patient gets through it. He tells of one patient who felt so threatened by sight (which would have meant leaving the Asylum for the Blind, and his fiancee there) that he threatened to tear his eyes out; he cites case after case of patients who "behave blind" or "refuse to see" after an operation, and of others who, fearful of what sight may entail, refuse operation (one such account, entitled "L'Aveugle qui refuse de voir," was published as early as 1771). Both Gregory and Valvo dilate on the emotional dangers of forcing a new sense on a blind man--how, after an initial exhilaration, a devastating (and even lethal) depression can ensue."
I identified with this paragraph. Not that I've ever had a previously unavailable sense restored, but I think I have had (and continue to have) moments of what he calls a "motivation crisis." Times when I have to decide if I want to move forward or not, and if I do want to, WHY. Times when it hasn't seemed worth it to leave my comfortable world behind in search of a better one ahead. Times when I've wanted to tear out a piece of myself, some knowledge or truth or gift, because life would just be easier, simpler, without it.
But I think that's what we're called to do. We're asked to make it through the Motivation Crisis and move ahead to a better place. And I don't know why, but sometimes that just seems so hard to do.
"Marius von Senden, reviewing every published case [of restoring sight to an adult who had been blind his whole life] over a three-hundred-year period in his classic book Space and Sight (1932), concluded that every newly sighted adult sooner or later comes to a "motivation crisis"--and that not every patient gets through it. He tells of one patient who felt so threatened by sight (which would have meant leaving the Asylum for the Blind, and his fiancee there) that he threatened to tear his eyes out; he cites case after case of patients who "behave blind" or "refuse to see" after an operation, and of others who, fearful of what sight may entail, refuse operation (one such account, entitled "L'Aveugle qui refuse de voir," was published as early as 1771). Both Gregory and Valvo dilate on the emotional dangers of forcing a new sense on a blind man--how, after an initial exhilaration, a devastating (and even lethal) depression can ensue."
I identified with this paragraph. Not that I've ever had a previously unavailable sense restored, but I think I have had (and continue to have) moments of what he calls a "motivation crisis." Times when I have to decide if I want to move forward or not, and if I do want to, WHY. Times when it hasn't seemed worth it to leave my comfortable world behind in search of a better one ahead. Times when I've wanted to tear out a piece of myself, some knowledge or truth or gift, because life would just be easier, simpler, without it.
But I think that's what we're called to do. We're asked to make it through the Motivation Crisis and move ahead to a better place. And I don't know why, but sometimes that just seems so hard to do.
 |
| Oliver Sacks |
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
For Your Convenience
A sign on a bathroom door in a gas station in Nevada said something like this:
"For your convenience, this bathroom has been designated smoke free."
As if it were only inconvenient to be exposed to cigarette smoke. "Man, this lung cancer is mighty inconvenient. I had a football game to go to!"
Why not say:
"For your HEALTH, this bathroom has been designated smoke free." Or is that too offensive to the cigarette smokers?
On the way out, I saw a sign on the gas station door that said:
"For your pleasure, this building is smoke free."
That was better than the idea of convenience. It is definitely more pleasurable to be in a smoke-free building.
"For your convenience, this bathroom has been designated smoke free."
As if it were only inconvenient to be exposed to cigarette smoke. "Man, this lung cancer is mighty inconvenient. I had a football game to go to!"
Why not say:
"For your HEALTH, this bathroom has been designated smoke free." Or is that too offensive to the cigarette smokers?
On the way out, I saw a sign on the gas station door that said:
"For your pleasure, this building is smoke free."
That was better than the idea of convenience. It is definitely more pleasurable to be in a smoke-free building.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Fine, Google. Have it your way.
I have to admit that I like the Google toolbar.
So go ahead, Google. Take over the world.
So go ahead, Google. Take over the world.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Simple Living
I was driving in the car on my way home from Toledo and a very enjoyable visit with my in-laws. During the last two days I had been able to let go of some of my everyday stresses and worries. I read a book called Affluenza, all about living a simpler life to bring clarity and peace to your soul. And it rang true to me. Having already started the process of simplification about two years ago and making baby steps of progress ever since, I have seen the promised seedlings of peace and clarity.
And it has made me want more. For fun I search through my life, digging for what I can simplify. What I can de-junk and not miss. What stores I don't have to visit, clothes I don't need to buy. How I can cut back on a consumerist lifestyle and not feel the sting of sacrifice. What activities I can omit without feeling deprived.
During the last 2 years of Baby-Step Simplification, I have watched less TV and read more books, spent less money and found more security, stopped dreaming about exotic vacations and started hiking through the woods near my home.
Do I want to go all crazy with this? No. I don't. I don't want to be the person who won't get internet because I'm "simplifying my life." (I lose too many connections with family and friends if I give up internet.) And I don't want to be the person who won't drive 2 hours to a family event because I've cut gasoline out of my budget. (Family is important and family events are, too.)
But I also don't want to be that 45-year-old who can't figure out how I acquired $40,000 in credit card debt because I couldn't cut anything out (that trip to Hawaii was "deserved," that sound system was a "reward," and that monthly cable bill was "neccessary").
And it's not all about the money. It's about the peace and clarity.
Having spent the last two days re-connecting with this idea, I felt more peaceful and calm than I had for a while. I spoke to my children in kinder, gentler, and quieter tones. They responded in the same peaceful manner. I smiled as I thought about what wonderful examples children can be. Really, if I follow their lead, I would be less stressed, more filled with wonder, and living a simpler life. I would be a better person. Just like that guy who lived 2000 years ago said.
And it has made me want more. For fun I search through my life, digging for what I can simplify. What I can de-junk and not miss. What stores I don't have to visit, clothes I don't need to buy. How I can cut back on a consumerist lifestyle and not feel the sting of sacrifice. What activities I can omit without feeling deprived.
During the last 2 years of Baby-Step Simplification, I have watched less TV and read more books, spent less money and found more security, stopped dreaming about exotic vacations and started hiking through the woods near my home.
Do I want to go all crazy with this? No. I don't. I don't want to be the person who won't get internet because I'm "simplifying my life." (I lose too many connections with family and friends if I give up internet.) And I don't want to be the person who won't drive 2 hours to a family event because I've cut gasoline out of my budget. (Family is important and family events are, too.)
But I also don't want to be that 45-year-old who can't figure out how I acquired $40,000 in credit card debt because I couldn't cut anything out (that trip to Hawaii was "deserved," that sound system was a "reward," and that monthly cable bill was "neccessary").
And it's not all about the money. It's about the peace and clarity.
Having spent the last two days re-connecting with this idea, I felt more peaceful and calm than I had for a while. I spoke to my children in kinder, gentler, and quieter tones. They responded in the same peaceful manner. I smiled as I thought about what wonderful examples children can be. Really, if I follow their lead, I would be less stressed, more filled with wonder, and living a simpler life. I would be a better person. Just like that guy who lived 2000 years ago said.
Google is Taking Over the World!
Elijah figured out how to install a Google tool bar. I don't WANT a Google tool bar. ...
Elijah isn't an internet tech or anything. Not only is he just 5 years old, he doesn't spend much time on-line, and he spends zero time on sites other than pbskids.org and barbie.com. He isn't the kid that trial and errors until he figures out how to get what he wants. He's the kid that asks and waits for me to answer. But during that 2 minutes of wait time he clicks lots of buttons, just to cure his boredom (a habit I'm trying to break him of by threatening severe cyber punishments). Hence he changes the location of my Start button and bar about once a month.
What I'm saying is that if it's so easy to install a Google tool bar that my 5-year-old button clicker can do it, I have 2 conclusions:
1. Any adult that can't figure it out is retarded.
2. It's too easy to install.
Elijah isn't an internet tech or anything. Not only is he just 5 years old, he doesn't spend much time on-line, and he spends zero time on sites other than pbskids.org and barbie.com. He isn't the kid that trial and errors until he figures out how to get what he wants. He's the kid that asks and waits for me to answer. But during that 2 minutes of wait time he clicks lots of buttons, just to cure his boredom (a habit I'm trying to break him of by threatening severe cyber punishments). Hence he changes the location of my Start button and bar about once a month.
What I'm saying is that if it's so easy to install a Google tool bar that my 5-year-old button clicker can do it, I have 2 conclusions:
1. Any adult that can't figure it out is retarded.
2. It's too easy to install.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Eagles
I was driving to the library today and got in a left-hand turn lane behind a black SUV. It had a window sticker--you know, the kind that has a soccer ball with the number 12 in the middle and "Katie" written around the edge. This window sticker was for a High School, I assume. The mascot was an eagle (an elegant choice for a mascot) sort of cartoonized, looking half fierce, and half regal. As fierce and regal as a cartoonized eagle can be.
But what got me was the juxtaposition of this eagle and the name of the high school: Our Lady of Grace. It didn't say Our Lady of Grace High School. Just: Our Lady of Grace.
Our Lady of Grace ... Eagles!
laid out in a circle around the cartoon eagle.
I started trying to think of the feelings that "Our Lady of Grace" brought to mind: peace, holiness, respect, reverence.
And then Eagles!
It just didn't work for me. I wish I'd had a camera.
But what got me was the juxtaposition of this eagle and the name of the high school: Our Lady of Grace. It didn't say Our Lady of Grace High School. Just: Our Lady of Grace.
Our Lady of Grace ... Eagles!
laid out in a circle around the cartoon eagle.
I started trying to think of the feelings that "Our Lady of Grace" brought to mind: peace, holiness, respect, reverence.
And then Eagles!
It just didn't work for me. I wish I'd had a camera.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I'm Manic Depressive
I don't know what's wrong with me.
You can hear me say that for 3 days out of the month. Over and over and over, for those 3 days. It's awful and I try to laugh about it, but really I want to rip someone to shreds and/or laugh and/or cry and/or go to sleep for days. I can feel violent and vulnerable at the same time. I wish I were dead. I can feel bitterness and anger towards people that never deserved a piece of it--towards ANYONE, really.
That's the Depression part.
And for 3 days of the month I have more energy than I know what to do with. Passion, spontaneity, life, love. I could accomplish anything. I talk non-stop. I dream like a high schooler. I clean the whole house in about 2 hours. I am patient and ridiculously easygoing with my children. I jump around boxing the air and leap into Rob's arms, laughing. Nothing can faze me. I'm on top of the world.
That's the Manic part.
But for the other 22 days in a 28 day cycle I'm just normal Tamra. Not manic. Not depressive. Just normal.
I despise the depressive stage. I adore the manic stage. But I like normal Tamra the best.
Being a woman sucks. I have been wondering if, when I die, I can face God (or the Devil, whichever I end up meeting) and say, "So, WHY AGAIN did I have to go through all this woman stuff? Couldn't you have designed women better?" I'll say that right before I grovel at His feet and say that I know all things were for my good.
You can hear me say that for 3 days out of the month. Over and over and over, for those 3 days. It's awful and I try to laugh about it, but really I want to rip someone to shreds and/or laugh and/or cry and/or go to sleep for days. I can feel violent and vulnerable at the same time. I wish I were dead. I can feel bitterness and anger towards people that never deserved a piece of it--towards ANYONE, really.
That's the Depression part.
And for 3 days of the month I have more energy than I know what to do with. Passion, spontaneity, life, love. I could accomplish anything. I talk non-stop. I dream like a high schooler. I clean the whole house in about 2 hours. I am patient and ridiculously easygoing with my children. I jump around boxing the air and leap into Rob's arms, laughing. Nothing can faze me. I'm on top of the world.
That's the Manic part.
But for the other 22 days in a 28 day cycle I'm just normal Tamra. Not manic. Not depressive. Just normal.
I despise the depressive stage. I adore the manic stage. But I like normal Tamra the best.
Being a woman sucks. I have been wondering if, when I die, I can face God (or the Devil, whichever I end up meeting) and say, "So, WHY AGAIN did I have to go through all this woman stuff? Couldn't you have designed women better?" I'll say that right before I grovel at His feet and say that I know all things were for my good.
Friday, May 8, 2009
All That Potential. Overrated. (and now gone)
Every now and then I think about how grateful I am to be "past my prime": If I was going to do anything genius and wonderful and amazing, I would have already done it. (Not that I can't do anything good after age 30, but academically and athletically, it's over. Brilliant people show their colors by the age of 25.)
I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. No longer do I have to wonder if I'm going to do something Great; I know I won't. And that's a great relief, let me tell you.
I'm not even bitter and trying not to be. I'm serious. I've been striving my whole life to be mediocre and normal. But I've been too "talented" to pull of mediocre. Now, however, I'm the typical suburban stay-at-home soccer mom writing about my mediocrity in a blog that only 5 people in the world read, which means I've finally found my averageness!
... For so long I felt like I was waiting around for this genius to surface. Like people were waiting for me to "make something of myself." I was supposed to cure cancer or feed the world's poor or become a professional or something like that. Do something Important, you know? It's nice to have that period of my life behind me. Makes me feel like I can breathe a little.
Incidentally, I do feel like I'm doing something important (so I don't need a pep talk). I chose something fulfilling and wonderful and even note-worthy. It's just mediocre. And I like that.
I feel like a tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. No longer do I have to wonder if I'm going to do something Great; I know I won't. And that's a great relief, let me tell you.
I'm not even bitter and trying not to be. I'm serious. I've been striving my whole life to be mediocre and normal. But I've been too "talented" to pull of mediocre. Now, however, I'm the typical suburban stay-at-home soccer mom writing about my mediocrity in a blog that only 5 people in the world read, which means I've finally found my averageness!
... For so long I felt like I was waiting around for this genius to surface. Like people were waiting for me to "make something of myself." I was supposed to cure cancer or feed the world's poor or become a professional or something like that. Do something Important, you know? It's nice to have that period of my life behind me. Makes me feel like I can breathe a little.
Incidentally, I do feel like I'm doing something important (so I don't need a pep talk). I chose something fulfilling and wonderful and even note-worthy. It's just mediocre. And I like that.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I Have No Sense of Decency
Apparently I have no idea what would make someone squeamish and what wouldn't.
I didn't finish Adolf Hitler. The man is fascinating to me. The history is fascinating to me. And getting into the history of Germany that made it possible for a Hitler to rise to power ... wow. But the more I tried to get into Hitler's head, into what made Hitler tick, what the whole thing meant to him PERSONALLY, the less it really made any sense.
I sat down with Rob last night and started asking him questions about it all. Not "did you know" type stuff, but, "how do you suppose..." type stuff. Rob finds Hitler revolting. This is obvious the minute you start talking about it. He didn't quite find my reading a Hitler book pointless, but it's obvious that if he were to write a book about Hitler it would be about 2 pages and it would mostly consist of the phrase: "Hitler is Satan spawn." Rob says even thinking about the man makes him nearly physically ill. I had to insist, "But you can seperate him from the evil things he did, right?" Rob would just shake his head.
In reality? No. No, you can't sepearte Hitler from the fact that he is responsible for the death of so many. It's hard to take, really. I mean, if I were as bad as I could be in this life--if I did terrible, horrible things that were unforgivable--I STILL wouldn't be responsible for the sheer magnitude of things that Hitler has to his name. Even if I dreamed in my head such horrific things for my fellow man, I simply don't have the power to bring those things about. Imagine! Imagine what sort of special Hell is reserved for a man responsible for so much evil. It's mind-twisting.
And yet the man wasn't born evil, was he? He had some sort of conscience, surely. Not that I saw any evidence of that, from what I read. He dropped friends when they were no longer useful. He lied to serve his purposes. He deliberately aroused feelings of hate, distrust, and anger. And for what? To get power. And for why? So he could kill off 6 million Jews.
Somewhere along that path there is a HUGE disconnect for me. I get that he wanted power. I get that he hated Jews. But COME ON.
... People who gain power, who become obsessed with power. They kill other people. Masses of them. Why should this be, and does it HAVE to be? Can you seperate the two? Why can't you just seek for power and want normal things--a family, a good job, a life of ease for yourself and those you love? Because normal things seem too insignificant after a while?
I didn't start reading the book so that I could excuse Hitler of the evil things he did. But to understand a little about how this could have happened. So much evil. So much hatred. And the people were so TAKEN by this man. He had them in his palm and he brought about such horrific things. Imagine the good he could have brought about, if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to. ... Did he ever feel bad about it? Did he ever regret killing off so many people? Did he ever doubt, every now and then, whether his cause was just? No. I don't think he did.
And that's the question that intrigues me. How does someone human become unhuman? There was a process there. But somewhere, amidst the pages, I've missed that process. He was developing into a loser. And then, suddenly, he was a loser. I missed the pact with Satan. I missed the "Okay, I'm going to make it my life goal to kill off all the Jews." Just, suddenly, he was there. ... Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention. ... I mean, okay, his hatred for Jews was never good, and it was always there. But then it was LARGER THAN LIFE. And that's the transition I missed.
While I was talking with Rob, trying to "figure it out", suddenly Rob just kind of lost it. This never happens. I don't know a single person that Rob hates, but I think Hitler might be the closest. Rob lived in Germany for 2 years. He met people who were duped by Hitler. People who were crushed by the entire thing. And his dislike for Hitler seems almost personal. I was silenced by Rob's outburst, and almost moved to tears. I told him I was sorry. I didn't quite mean sorry for asking the questions and trying to figure it out. I was sorry I'd picked up the book in the first place. Sorry that I'd brought out these feelings in Rob. And I knew, right then, that I wouldn't read another word.
And this conclusion very quickly came to me: Whatever it was that made Hitler the awful man he was... I know enough to know that I don't need to know any more.
I didn't finish Adolf Hitler. The man is fascinating to me. The history is fascinating to me. And getting into the history of Germany that made it possible for a Hitler to rise to power ... wow. But the more I tried to get into Hitler's head, into what made Hitler tick, what the whole thing meant to him PERSONALLY, the less it really made any sense.
I sat down with Rob last night and started asking him questions about it all. Not "did you know" type stuff, but, "how do you suppose..." type stuff. Rob finds Hitler revolting. This is obvious the minute you start talking about it. He didn't quite find my reading a Hitler book pointless, but it's obvious that if he were to write a book about Hitler it would be about 2 pages and it would mostly consist of the phrase: "Hitler is Satan spawn." Rob says even thinking about the man makes him nearly physically ill. I had to insist, "But you can seperate him from the evil things he did, right?" Rob would just shake his head.
In reality? No. No, you can't sepearte Hitler from the fact that he is responsible for the death of so many. It's hard to take, really. I mean, if I were as bad as I could be in this life--if I did terrible, horrible things that were unforgivable--I STILL wouldn't be responsible for the sheer magnitude of things that Hitler has to his name. Even if I dreamed in my head such horrific things for my fellow man, I simply don't have the power to bring those things about. Imagine! Imagine what sort of special Hell is reserved for a man responsible for so much evil. It's mind-twisting.
And yet the man wasn't born evil, was he? He had some sort of conscience, surely. Not that I saw any evidence of that, from what I read. He dropped friends when they were no longer useful. He lied to serve his purposes. He deliberately aroused feelings of hate, distrust, and anger. And for what? To get power. And for why? So he could kill off 6 million Jews.
Somewhere along that path there is a HUGE disconnect for me. I get that he wanted power. I get that he hated Jews. But COME ON.
... People who gain power, who become obsessed with power. They kill other people. Masses of them. Why should this be, and does it HAVE to be? Can you seperate the two? Why can't you just seek for power and want normal things--a family, a good job, a life of ease for yourself and those you love? Because normal things seem too insignificant after a while?
I didn't start reading the book so that I could excuse Hitler of the evil things he did. But to understand a little about how this could have happened. So much evil. So much hatred. And the people were so TAKEN by this man. He had them in his palm and he brought about such horrific things. Imagine the good he could have brought about, if he'd wanted to. And he didn't want to. ... Did he ever feel bad about it? Did he ever regret killing off so many people? Did he ever doubt, every now and then, whether his cause was just? No. I don't think he did.
And that's the question that intrigues me. How does someone human become unhuman? There was a process there. But somewhere, amidst the pages, I've missed that process. He was developing into a loser. And then, suddenly, he was a loser. I missed the pact with Satan. I missed the "Okay, I'm going to make it my life goal to kill off all the Jews." Just, suddenly, he was there. ... Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention. ... I mean, okay, his hatred for Jews was never good, and it was always there. But then it was LARGER THAN LIFE. And that's the transition I missed.
While I was talking with Rob, trying to "figure it out", suddenly Rob just kind of lost it. This never happens. I don't know a single person that Rob hates, but I think Hitler might be the closest. Rob lived in Germany for 2 years. He met people who were duped by Hitler. People who were crushed by the entire thing. And his dislike for Hitler seems almost personal. I was silenced by Rob's outburst, and almost moved to tears. I told him I was sorry. I didn't quite mean sorry for asking the questions and trying to figure it out. I was sorry I'd picked up the book in the first place. Sorry that I'd brought out these feelings in Rob. And I knew, right then, that I wouldn't read another word.
And this conclusion very quickly came to me: Whatever it was that made Hitler the awful man he was... I know enough to know that I don't need to know any more.
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Great Social Experiment
I think life is interesting. I think people are interesting. I think history is interesting.
(This is going to be like some long-winded thinking out loud.)
I really like the idea of Tolerance. It's one of my hold-fast-to Ideals. But it's occurred to me that it's a new Ideal. It's one we've developed that we've never tried as a people, country, or world before (not saying it hasn't existed before, just saying that it hasn't existed EN MASS before). Let's think about history for a minute. Can you think of a society that had the Ideal of Tolerance? I'm not a historian (though maybe I should be, since history fascinates me), but I can't think of one. Historically, we kill people who are different than us. We imprison them. During a war we put them in work camps. We deport them. We silence them. We distrust them. We persecute them. Throughout history, we have done anything except tolerate them. Heaven FORBID we should actually ACCEPT them. That would be the next step in the social experiment, and it would be too much of a leap for now.
But we don't really know what the consequences of Tolerance will be. Cause we've never DONE it before. We've never had Tolerance as an Ideal. With all our social experiments, there are consequences we intend. But there are unintended consequences, too. And it's hard to know what will really be brought about by our experiments.
Other "new" social experiments:
Cleanliness
Modern Medicine
Overindulgence and Debt (those go hand in hand)
Dying in a Hospital
(Cleanliness is a good one, I think. I mean, it's brought about some really good things, right? Like less babies dying. Less sickness. Less disease-spreading. But now bacteria is too resistant because we've anti-bacterialized our clothes, bodies, kids, houses, pets, lawns, cars, and anything else we can think of. We didn't think about that consequence, now did we?)
I think it's interesting that we like to forget that all of this is a social experiment. We like to think that we've planned it all out, we know how it'll all work out, and that things we do are tried and true. DESTINED to work. They're SURE to work. They're SOOO much better than the old Ideal we used to follow but which is too old-fashioned for us now, and look how far we've come anyway. We're Advanced. We're Lucky To Be Alive Right Now. We're Privileged. We're So Much Better Off.
But we really don't know. I think it's easier to forget that it's all an experiment. And we don't know how it will all turn out.
Along the same lines: Superpowers. Do you know what happens to Superpowers of the World? They fall. Always. But as Americans, do we like to think about that? No. Cause then we'd have to think about our society not being a Superpower, and we don't want to go there. Come on, guys, this is an experiment that history has tried time and again, and we KNOW the results of this one: the Superpower falls. Always. Let's pay attention, guys.
Anyways. That's my thought for now.
(This is going to be like some long-winded thinking out loud.)
I really like the idea of Tolerance. It's one of my hold-fast-to Ideals. But it's occurred to me that it's a new Ideal. It's one we've developed that we've never tried as a people, country, or world before (not saying it hasn't existed before, just saying that it hasn't existed EN MASS before). Let's think about history for a minute. Can you think of a society that had the Ideal of Tolerance? I'm not a historian (though maybe I should be, since history fascinates me), but I can't think of one. Historically, we kill people who are different than us. We imprison them. During a war we put them in work camps. We deport them. We silence them. We distrust them. We persecute them. Throughout history, we have done anything except tolerate them. Heaven FORBID we should actually ACCEPT them. That would be the next step in the social experiment, and it would be too much of a leap for now.
But we don't really know what the consequences of Tolerance will be. Cause we've never DONE it before. We've never had Tolerance as an Ideal. With all our social experiments, there are consequences we intend. But there are unintended consequences, too. And it's hard to know what will really be brought about by our experiments.
Other "new" social experiments:
Cleanliness
Modern Medicine
Overindulgence and Debt (those go hand in hand)
Dying in a Hospital
(Cleanliness is a good one, I think. I mean, it's brought about some really good things, right? Like less babies dying. Less sickness. Less disease-spreading. But now bacteria is too resistant because we've anti-bacterialized our clothes, bodies, kids, houses, pets, lawns, cars, and anything else we can think of. We didn't think about that consequence, now did we?)
I think it's interesting that we like to forget that all of this is a social experiment. We like to think that we've planned it all out, we know how it'll all work out, and that things we do are tried and true. DESTINED to work. They're SURE to work. They're SOOO much better than the old Ideal we used to follow but which is too old-fashioned for us now, and look how far we've come anyway. We're Advanced. We're Lucky To Be Alive Right Now. We're Privileged. We're So Much Better Off.
But we really don't know. I think it's easier to forget that it's all an experiment. And we don't know how it will all turn out.
Along the same lines: Superpowers. Do you know what happens to Superpowers of the World? They fall. Always. But as Americans, do we like to think about that? No. Cause then we'd have to think about our society not being a Superpower, and we don't want to go there. Come on, guys, this is an experiment that history has tried time and again, and we KNOW the results of this one: the Superpower falls. Always. Let's pay attention, guys.
Anyways. That's my thought for now.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Adolf Hitler
When I was in 7th or 8th grade I had to do a report on 3 heroes of my choice, and for one of those heroes I chose Hitler on the premise that he was SOMEONE's hero. Not my personal hero, but someone's hero. In fact, he was all of Germany's hero for a time. ... My classmates still thought I was strange.
(For me personally, I see this as yet another example of a school project that I tried to tweak to make it more interesting. I mean, it's predictable to write about your own hero, and sometimes even trite and boring ("My hero is my dad who is the greatest guy in the world...blah, blah, blah, and gag on a spoon."), but to write about someone else's hero? Especially if that someone else's hero is a controversial historical figure? That's unpredictable, interesting, and narrowly edging the line between acceptable and inflammatory. Right down my alley, I'd say.)
But strange or not, the truth is still that I have always been fascinated by Hitler. The fact that he rose to power at all. The fact that he got an entire nation to go along with killing off 6 million of a certain people, just cause they were different. And wasn't Germany a democracy anyway? So how did he get to be the dictator of a democracy? It's all strange and interesting and fascinating.
I read a short book on Hitler way back in the day, probably for that project I mentioned. But it wasn't very helpful. It talked about Hitler being the head of his political party, but if you translate that into 1990's American terms, that's not very helpful. Our political leaders aren't unquestioned dictators. (And we'll stay out of American politics for now, since it's not really what I'm talking about.)
Last month I finally decided to get serious about my Hitler studies by tackling a tome by John Toland called (of all things) Adolf Hitler. It starts with Hitler's father, follows Hitler through childhood, and of course right up to the end of his life. Since that's what biographies do. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm to the point where I have something of an understanding of how he came to power, and I wanted to write about it. So if you care to know a brief description of Hitler's early days, as interpreted by Toland and re-interpreted by me, then read on.
Hitler's dad was kind of a putz and died when Hiter was young. Hitler's mother was adorable, and he adored her. She was just about his only family supporter, but she died in Hitler's late teens. Everyone else in the family wasn't a Hitler fan. Partly this is because he wanted to be an artist, and the family thought he should get a "decent" job.
Hitler as a child was much like he was as an adult: a natural leader, a good speaker, very persuasive. Demanded unquestioning loyalty from his friends and, according to one of his best friends, could only handle acceptance. He was angry, passionate, and prone to verbal outbursts.
Spent his late teens and early twenties doing nothing at all with his life. From 17 (when he went to Vienna all on his own) to 24 years of age, he spent time being a bohemian starving artist. Some of that time he spent homeless, and a good chunk of that time he spent getting into violent political debates with his friends. He couldn't make it as an artist (he was denied entrance into Vienna's art academy two or three times) and people who knew art told him that he wasn't meant to be a painter but an architect. His art was very good architecturally, but he had no knack for proportions of the human body. He finally went to Germany to "train as an architect" and promptly didn't apply to any architectural school.
Then WWI started and Hitler was thrilled! Germany was going to be great! He signed up for the army and spent all 4 years of the war fighting on the front lines. Apparently he was uber-brave and did all sorts of very dangerous missions during which his life was spared time and again by what we'd call divine intervention (hearing a voice tell him to move or just getting a feeling that he should or shouldn't do something).
And here's where it gets really interesting politically. At the very end of the war, and right after it, German was in revolution! (The American president at the time refused to talk peace with the emperor of Germany, demanding to deal with a democratic leader. Sounds familiar, eh? Apparently we just reincarnate the same American president over and over. Oh, but we're not getting into American politics in this piece.) I think power changed hands about 6 times in the first year. Lots of assassinations. Lots of unrest.
One of my favorite assassinations was the first Revolution Leader. A guy named Kurt Eisner. Apparently a decent guy, but people were distrustful of a revolutionary (which is funny, if you think about it). Eisner realized he'd never have a chance and wrote out his resignation. He was on his way to deliver that resignation when he was killed by Count Arco-Valley. Arco-Valley was unhappy with Eisner's anti-Semitic political group, because they'd denied him entrance since his mother was a Jew. According to Toland, the government would have been handed over to a middle-of-the-road politcal party, but the assassination once again put people in a frenzy (apparently not hard to do in Germany in 1919) and revolution started all over again. How's that for irony, eh?
It's hard for us to imagine, but nearly EVERY political party was anti-Semitic. The Jews were apparently responsible for unsuccessful revolutions all over Europe, Communism as well as capitalism; the Jews were plotting to take over the world, and were responsible for losing the war. That's a lot to take the blame for. And people were all too happy to blame them. One thing I didn't realize before I read this book was that a lot of Hitler's nasty anti-Semitic rhetoric wasn't invented by him. It had been around for a long time. For instance, how about this guy: Walter Mehring. A poet from Berlin. Wrote this poem, pre-Hitler in power:
C'mon, boys, let's all go
Off to the pogrom with a ho-ho-ho.
Pull in your bellies and throw out the Jews.
With swastika and poison gas
Let's have a go at murder in the mass.
Hitler didn't have to convince people to hate Jews. A lot of people ALREADY hated Jews.
Okay, so we've established that before the war Hitler was useless and a nobody. But he had decided his true calling was politics, and after the war he started giving public speeches. People LOVED his speeches. He was sincere, not too polished, emotional, and moving. Hitler found a fledgling political party and decided to become a member. It was a low-key extremist group that enjoyed being a low-key extremist group. Hitler joined it and in only a year, he'd changed their objectives (he came up with a 25-point program for the group), and increased membership from 7 to nearly 3,000. He became the non-official leader of the group through crowd appeal, sheer force of will, and popularity.
About a year in, the original founders weren't happy with how Hitler had changed things. They thought Hitler was getting too much power for the good of the group. So while he was away from Berlin for a time, they formed an alliance with a political group from another city. Hitler recognized this as an attempt to undermine his power, and he issued an ultimatum to the group: he wouldn't return to the group unless they made him the chairman and gave him dictatorial powers. Said Hitler: "I make these demands not because I am power hungry..." RIIIGHT. The party caved, gave him what he wanted, and Hitler was in absolute power of his group. He created his Storm Detachment army group (Storm Troopers!!). Set up assaults of Jews in the street. Public brawls, that sort of thing.
That's as far as I've read, but it answers a lot already. I wondered what sort of environment would bring a Hitler to power. Now I know. Germany was in a state of unrest, prone to violence and hate. Many Germans were looking for a "German Messiah": someone to come and unite Germany and "save" it (though it's unclear what exactly Germany needed saved FROM. More and more, I think they were looking for someone to return their country to its old Glory, though, again, it's unclear what this really meant). No political party was stable. The country wasn't stable.
Isn't this fascinating?!
I have just summed up 115 pages of Adolf Hitler for you. You're welcome.
(For me personally, I see this as yet another example of a school project that I tried to tweak to make it more interesting. I mean, it's predictable to write about your own hero, and sometimes even trite and boring ("My hero is my dad who is the greatest guy in the world...blah, blah, blah, and gag on a spoon."), but to write about someone else's hero? Especially if that someone else's hero is a controversial historical figure? That's unpredictable, interesting, and narrowly edging the line between acceptable and inflammatory. Right down my alley, I'd say.)
But strange or not, the truth is still that I have always been fascinated by Hitler. The fact that he rose to power at all. The fact that he got an entire nation to go along with killing off 6 million of a certain people, just cause they were different. And wasn't Germany a democracy anyway? So how did he get to be the dictator of a democracy? It's all strange and interesting and fascinating.
I read a short book on Hitler way back in the day, probably for that project I mentioned. But it wasn't very helpful. It talked about Hitler being the head of his political party, but if you translate that into 1990's American terms, that's not very helpful. Our political leaders aren't unquestioned dictators. (And we'll stay out of American politics for now, since it's not really what I'm talking about.)
Last month I finally decided to get serious about my Hitler studies by tackling a tome by John Toland called (of all things) Adolf Hitler. It starts with Hitler's father, follows Hitler through childhood, and of course right up to the end of his life. Since that's what biographies do. I haven't finished it yet, but I'm to the point where I have something of an understanding of how he came to power, and I wanted to write about it. So if you care to know a brief description of Hitler's early days, as interpreted by Toland and re-interpreted by me, then read on.
Hitler's dad was kind of a putz and died when Hiter was young. Hitler's mother was adorable, and he adored her. She was just about his only family supporter, but she died in Hitler's late teens. Everyone else in the family wasn't a Hitler fan. Partly this is because he wanted to be an artist, and the family thought he should get a "decent" job.
Hitler as a child was much like he was as an adult: a natural leader, a good speaker, very persuasive. Demanded unquestioning loyalty from his friends and, according to one of his best friends, could only handle acceptance. He was angry, passionate, and prone to verbal outbursts.
Spent his late teens and early twenties doing nothing at all with his life. From 17 (when he went to Vienna all on his own) to 24 years of age, he spent time being a bohemian starving artist. Some of that time he spent homeless, and a good chunk of that time he spent getting into violent political debates with his friends. He couldn't make it as an artist (he was denied entrance into Vienna's art academy two or three times) and people who knew art told him that he wasn't meant to be a painter but an architect. His art was very good architecturally, but he had no knack for proportions of the human body. He finally went to Germany to "train as an architect" and promptly didn't apply to any architectural school.
Then WWI started and Hitler was thrilled! Germany was going to be great! He signed up for the army and spent all 4 years of the war fighting on the front lines. Apparently he was uber-brave and did all sorts of very dangerous missions during which his life was spared time and again by what we'd call divine intervention (hearing a voice tell him to move or just getting a feeling that he should or shouldn't do something).
And here's where it gets really interesting politically. At the very end of the war, and right after it, German was in revolution! (The American president at the time refused to talk peace with the emperor of Germany, demanding to deal with a democratic leader. Sounds familiar, eh? Apparently we just reincarnate the same American president over and over. Oh, but we're not getting into American politics in this piece.) I think power changed hands about 6 times in the first year. Lots of assassinations. Lots of unrest.
One of my favorite assassinations was the first Revolution Leader. A guy named Kurt Eisner. Apparently a decent guy, but people were distrustful of a revolutionary (which is funny, if you think about it). Eisner realized he'd never have a chance and wrote out his resignation. He was on his way to deliver that resignation when he was killed by Count Arco-Valley. Arco-Valley was unhappy with Eisner's anti-Semitic political group, because they'd denied him entrance since his mother was a Jew. According to Toland, the government would have been handed over to a middle-of-the-road politcal party, but the assassination once again put people in a frenzy (apparently not hard to do in Germany in 1919) and revolution started all over again. How's that for irony, eh?
It's hard for us to imagine, but nearly EVERY political party was anti-Semitic. The Jews were apparently responsible for unsuccessful revolutions all over Europe, Communism as well as capitalism; the Jews were plotting to take over the world, and were responsible for losing the war. That's a lot to take the blame for. And people were all too happy to blame them. One thing I didn't realize before I read this book was that a lot of Hitler's nasty anti-Semitic rhetoric wasn't invented by him. It had been around for a long time. For instance, how about this guy: Walter Mehring. A poet from Berlin. Wrote this poem, pre-Hitler in power:
C'mon, boys, let's all go
Off to the pogrom with a ho-ho-ho.
Pull in your bellies and throw out the Jews.
With swastika and poison gas
Let's have a go at murder in the mass.
Hitler didn't have to convince people to hate Jews. A lot of people ALREADY hated Jews.
Okay, so we've established that before the war Hitler was useless and a nobody. But he had decided his true calling was politics, and after the war he started giving public speeches. People LOVED his speeches. He was sincere, not too polished, emotional, and moving. Hitler found a fledgling political party and decided to become a member. It was a low-key extremist group that enjoyed being a low-key extremist group. Hitler joined it and in only a year, he'd changed their objectives (he came up with a 25-point program for the group), and increased membership from 7 to nearly 3,000. He became the non-official leader of the group through crowd appeal, sheer force of will, and popularity.
About a year in, the original founders weren't happy with how Hitler had changed things. They thought Hitler was getting too much power for the good of the group. So while he was away from Berlin for a time, they formed an alliance with a political group from another city. Hitler recognized this as an attempt to undermine his power, and he issued an ultimatum to the group: he wouldn't return to the group unless they made him the chairman and gave him dictatorial powers. Said Hitler: "I make these demands not because I am power hungry..." RIIIGHT. The party caved, gave him what he wanted, and Hitler was in absolute power of his group. He created his Storm Detachment army group (Storm Troopers!!). Set up assaults of Jews in the street. Public brawls, that sort of thing.
That's as far as I've read, but it answers a lot already. I wondered what sort of environment would bring a Hitler to power. Now I know. Germany was in a state of unrest, prone to violence and hate. Many Germans were looking for a "German Messiah": someone to come and unite Germany and "save" it (though it's unclear what exactly Germany needed saved FROM. More and more, I think they were looking for someone to return their country to its old Glory, though, again, it's unclear what this really meant). No political party was stable. The country wasn't stable.
Isn't this fascinating?!
I have just summed up 115 pages of Adolf Hitler for you. You're welcome.
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