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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

On Dying in Dreams

Dear Reader,

So there's this thing that people have told me ever since I was a little girl: if you're asleep and in some sort of life-threatening situation in your dream, you always wake up before you actually die, because when you die in dreams you die in real life. Setting aside my own suspicion of this very convenient and old wive's tale-like explanation, I personally can refute this theory because I've died in my dreams before and am still very much alive.

The particular dream was incredibly odd in itself, despite its usefulness at proving people wrong. I guess that must be because of the situation I was in when I dreamed the dream, yet dreams are so mysteriously arbitrary that I hardly ever dare to make sense of them. So I think for this once I'll leave the context out of the story and let you get to the heart of the matter.

I dreamed that I was in this odd sort of room that didn't really have walls or a ceiling, but instead was filled with tables for as far as I could see. There were hundreds of people sitting at these tables, each gorging themselves on pizza after pizza. Every face was the face of someone that I knew, which is really strange because I rarely dream about real people. As I stood, confused and trying to make sense of what I saw, a good friend of mine came up to me and offered me a slice of pizza. I found myself incredibly full, and I didn't want to inconvenience anybody, so I declined. She asked me again, and again I declined. Then it seemed that all of the people around her decided to join in the request, and they begged me with such force that I was afraid that they were going to grab me and start shoving pizza down my throat. And then I found that I was suddenly and inexplicably hungry, so I relented. As I was about to take a bite, however, everyone in the entire room looked up at me as if I had just committed the most offensive act possible. Several people tore out of my hands the food that had been offered so forcefully and let me know that I was in no way welcome to partake. I stood there for a while, feeling even more confused than I was before, becoming weaker and weaker until I eventually died of starvation. No joke.

Anyway, after this rather odd and disappointing encounter, I found myself in some kind of ethereal afterworld, where people were congregating for some kind of awards ceremony. I stuck around and eventually won the award for Most Pathetic Way to Die. It was a pretty sweet trophy, though. Very shiny.

So as you can imagine, I woke up that morning in a very confused state. I tried to put some rhyme or reason to the dream, but as I said, dreams aren't generally too cooperative with clear thinking. So I decided to forget about the pizza part and let the fact that I actually died in a dream be my take-home message of the day. So there you have it--clear and irrefutable evidence. Hopefully, Gentle Reader, you will now be able to sleep a little easier. That's what I'm here for.

Regards, best wishes, and tight sleeping,

-Cecily Jane

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Racism: a Capital Offense

Dear Reader,

A while ago, I came across this entry in the American Heritage Usage Dictionary (I'm an English major; we use these):

Black is sometimes capitalized in its racial sense, especially in the
black press, though the lowercase form is still widely used by authors of all
races. The capitalization of Black does raise ancillary problems for the
treatment of the term white. Orthographic evenhandedness would seem to require
the use of uppercase White, but this form might be taken to imply that whites
constitute a single ethnic group, an issue that is certainly debatable.
Uppercase White is also sometimes associated with the writings of white
supremacist groups, which for many people would of itself be sufficient reason
to dismiss it. On the other hand, the use of lowercase white in the same context
as uppercase Black will obviously raise questions as to how and why the writer
has distinguished between the two groups. There is no entirely happy solution to
this problem. In all likelihood, uncertainty as to the mode of styling of white
has dissuaded many publications from adopting the capitalized form Black.


Interestingly enough, I recently learned that to be completely grammatically and politically correct, the capitalized Deaf is supposed to be used any time one is addressing the Deaf culture or community, just as you would capitalize Asian or Mormon. Although it is an issue that is completely separate from the capitalization of black, I still find it fascinating that a simple thing such as capitalization can cause such a controversy, but that seems to just be the way it goes when it comes to racial and cultural identity. All in all, I'm personally okay with using both black and white in the lowercase, as long as the context is clear enough. Also, I agree with the fact that the word white can't be used to describe a single ethnic group, though I wonder if that also means that the same restriction must be applied to the word black. Since I don't have a single ancestor from the African continent, I don't feel qualified to give an answer. Maybe we should just give up using the words black and white in a racial context altogether?

Regards, best wishes, and quandaries,

-Cecily Jane

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

"Life's Not Fair"

My Dear Reader,

There are few phrases that anger me more quickly than "life's not fair." I've heard it throughout my life, as I'm sure you have in yours, no doubt from your own mothers, fathers, teachers, bosses, or anyone else who was either unable or unwilling to fix some perceived injustice. The reason I hate it, to put it bluntly, is because it's generally a lie.

When you think about the word fair, there can be about a hundred different definitions of what fair actually is. Merriam-Webster lists eleven. The definition that most adequately describes the fair I'm talking about is number six:
"a : marked by impartiality and honesty : free from self-interest, prejudice, or favoritism b (1) : conforming with the established rules : ALLOWED (2) : consonant with merit or importance : DUE c : open to legitimate pursuit, attack, or ridicule ."
This definition is not to be confused with number two: "superficially pleasing." The fair I'm talking about is a synonym with just, something I believe people should truly take into account before claiming that life isn't fair.

Is life really as unjust as we think it is? Is it unjust for a parent to discipline an unruly child? Is it unjust for a teacher to put a poor grade on a poorly done assignment? Is it unjust that the natural course of probability doesn't always tip in your favor?

How about an example: If I happen to be running late to work and I run into a red light at every intersection, could I call this an injustice? And if so, where is the malice or exclusion brought about by this occurrence? After all, every other car on the road is required to stop at certain times. I, like anyone else, must stop at the red light and go at the green. This is what we call equality; the same rules for everyone* else. Also, it's not like the traffic lights are manned by people bent against my punctuality or that it is the traffic lights' responsibility to get me to work on time. In this case, I would say that if I'm a victim of anything, I'm a victim of chance or inconvenience, not injustice.

Yet I am concerned that half of the time people claim that something isn't fair, it really is. This is why the cries of unfairness often come off as childish, as children often do not have the ability to see the bigger picture in which fairness is preserved. I contend that any other whines of a similar nature are just as childish. So is it fair if it rains at a wedding? Yes. It's not desirable, but what's not fair is expecting the laws of nature to bend around individual wishes. I'm afraid that the truth is that life is too often more fair than we would like to admit.

Of course, there are things that should never happen to anyone. Some of them stem from nature, like violent weather or incurable diseases. This especially hits home to me, as my beloved grandmother suffers from Alzheimer's. To anyone that has not felt the pain of watching a loved one's individuality fade in such a manner, allow me to vehemently assure you that no one should. Yet is this unjust? I'm tempted to say yes, and I don't believe I'm qualified to say no. In these situations, the question of injustice is a moot point; time should be spent on finding a cure or coping than arguing about technicalities.

Other issues of a more moral nature often arise. Because I believe in the Bible, I strongly believe that baptism by authority is required by God. Yet is it just for people who have no access to someone with God's authority to be punished for something they couldn't control? I believe in a God who is not a respecter of persons, so I must say yes. What about people who have no opportunity to accept Christ as their Savior because they lived their whole life without even hearing His name? This too is an injustice, and this is why the Atonement of Jesus Christ was so important, because it corrects all of these injustices, and does even more. By suffering for our sins, Christ atoned for the fall, for our sins, and for the choices we were unable to make. This is why we call our God a just God, and why we worship Him. This is the good news. And with this in mind, in addition to the concept of God's grace, we can come to realize that in an eternal perspective, life is more than fair.

And then there are the many true injustices in the world. Cheating, stealing, lying, are among the more mild ones; murder, rape, racism, and abuse are among the more serious. There is an inner part of us, present from birth, that abhors each and every one of these actions. More importantly, these actions are sins which bring us farther and farther from God and salvation. There have been too many times when a complaint against one of these offenses has been responded to with "Life's not fair." To me, the call of "life's not fair" in these instances is an attack against our very humanity. I don't believe that anyone honestly thinks uttering the words "life's not fair" will automatically solve any problem. Yet, more often than not, people use "life's not fair" as a way to escape blame or responsibility. Yes, injustice goes on in the world, but it shouldn't. What is the point of living if there is no hope for the betterment of life? As moral people, don't we have an obligation to do something? There is always something that can be done. Sometimes becoming aware and informed is enough. Sometimes a letter to a representative is in order, or even more. If all humans are truly created equal, than don't we have an obligation to make sure we treat each human with justice and equality? I believe we do, and I believe that our opportunity to become the change we want to see in the world can have a greater effect than we often think possible.

In conclusion, I encourage you, Gentle Reader, to challenge those** who are inclined to tell you that life isn't fair. They may be too absorbed in themselves to see the bigger picture, or they may be trying to make an excuse when they should make amends. In any case, it's a question that should be asked.

Regards, best wishes, and change,

-Cecily Jane

*With understandable exceptions for emergency vehicles, of course.
**I would also encourage those who say that they aren't perfect, because "life's not fair" and "I'm not perfect" are often two symptoms of the same sin. Neither is an adequate excuse for bad behavior.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Lessons from 2 Nephi 11:4

Dear Reader,

I love The Book of Mormon. It's true, it's good, and it will change your life in glorious ways that you can't possibly imagine. And being the person that I am, one of the things I love most, besides that plain and simple truths, are the vague mysteries that require some good quality pondering. One such mystery is presented in Second Nephi 11:4, which reads: "Behold, my soul delighteth in proving unto my people the truth of the coming of Christ; for, for this end hath the law of Moses been given; and all things which have been given of God from the beginning of the world, unto man, are the typifying of him [emphasis added]." (See also Alma 30:44.)

Now the part of this verse that interests me most is the part that says that all things typify Christ. To me, this means that everything in this world (or at least in nature, though everything in this world comes from nature at some point) contains an innate symbol that reminds us of Christ and His message. That's pretty huge, and if you're a person who delights on analyzing symbols like I am, you might even jump for joy.

Now, Gentle Reader, I suppose that you can imagine the sheer excitement that I get from trying to find types in everything I see. It has turned into a sort of delightful game that I indulge myself in from time to time, especially when I am required to do something that I don't like.

Take, for example, the simple process that each of us goes through every day by sleeping and waking up. If you think of this process as a symbol of Christ's death and resurrection, there is all of a sudden a boundless meaning in a menial thing. In fact, I have found that if you look hard enough, everyday things can turn suddenly into something strangely wonderful.

Of course, when things are left up to the interpretation of the individual, there is always the danger that some wrong conclusions have been made. This is evident by the countless times in which the scriptures themselves have been twisted to fit the warped mind of someone who is seeking to justify their sins instead of seeking to be taught (and rebuked) at the feet of the prophets. It seems that these kinds of things are inevitable as long as Satan continues to be determined to ruin everything good in this world, but it is because of this sort of confusion that we have the Holy Ghost in the first place. In my experience, as long as you trust the Spirit and align yourself with the core doctrines of the Church, you're good. No worries.

And luckily enough for us, we don't have to do all of the analyzing ourselves, as it appears throughout all of the standard works. Paul's analogy of the body of Christ and Christ's own multitude of parables are fine examples, and Isaiah is practically dripping with symbolism. It's positively delicious.

Of course, I realize that the way in which I have chosen to apply the scriptures in this manner always carries with it the risk that it will lead me closer to that fine line between quirky and strange; after all, most people don't look at a can of tuna and see Christ in the tomb. But I'll take that risk, because for me, finding truth in the small things of life helps make life bearable.

Regards, best wishes, and meaning,

-Cecily Jane

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Why I Hate Sarah Brightman and Those Like Her

Dear Reader,

As you may know, I'm quite the Broadway afficianado, and by that, I mean that my knowledge of musical theater isn't limited to the Wicked* soundtrack. My recent obsession has been Little Women, but the truth is that my favorite musical is whichever one I've seen last. So with that kind of background, it stands to reason that I would be familiar with Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. It's sort of a hard thing to miss, especially since it was made into a film. And since I'm more than a casual fan, I'd probably be familiar with the recording made by the original cast, which included Michael Crawford and, you guessed it, Sarah Brightman. And you'd probably think I'd be a purist like PetiteSoeur and loathe anything but the original. Well, that part you've got wrong. I love listening to the original soundtrack, but I cringe whenever Sarah Brightman, the original Christine Daae, starts singing.

No, Sarah Brightman isn't some one-hit wonder. Phantom got her started, but it's definiely not where she stopped. She's widely known as a wonderful artist, and it's true that she is well trained and talented. It's how she sings that irks me. Singing, in my opinion, is a very useful tool for conveying human emotion and giving insight into a character. That's one of the reasons that I love musical theater so much--you're delving into the characters by means of more than one medium. When Sarah Brightman sings, you can hear the character and the meaning in her voice, but unfortunately it's drowned out by her own narcissism. She's singing about love or fear or whatever, but all you can hear is, "Look at how well I can sing! I'm the best singer in all the land!" To make matters worse, she's not alone. Listen to The Narrator in the original Broadway Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat album and you'll see what I mean.

Maybe it's a harsh judgement. I mean, I don't personally know Sarah Brightman (or any actors/singers, for that matter) and I'm not an expert in vocal performace. It's just my opinion, after all, and it's not like PetiteSoeur agrees** with me. Still, I am distracted by such performances, as I feel the actor or actress isn't really doing any acting and that's what I came to see (or hear). And then I have this sudden urge to break the CD into millions of tiny pieces, and that's not good.

Regards, best wishes, and food for thought,

-Cecily Jane

*I love Wicked. Really, I do. What I don't love is the perception that to love Wicked is to be a Broadway fan. It's like reading a page in a book at random and telling people you've read the whole thing. Besides, you can't really saturate something in the media without running the risk of making people sick of it.

**For the record, PetiteSoeur and I, while both hardcore fans, rarely agree on anything when it comes to Broadway. It seems we always like the same thing for completely different reasons.