Obsessions

ob-ses-sion (noun): 1: a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly : compelling motivation 2 : something that causes an obsession* 


 Our first day of the CNF writing class our professor had us go around and introduce ourselves, and 'confess' two of our obsessions.  I thought this was brilliant for a creative writing class, but it could also be a great way to break the ice in any class! As we went around sharing our current obsessions, we learned a lot about each other's interests, backgrounds, and personalities.

One girl shared that she was obsessed with buying movies and owns more than 1,000 of them; another girl said she's been obsessed with Titanic since it came out when she was in middle-school (I could definitely relate); several of us admitted that we were currently obsessed with The Hunger Games, and we jokingly remarked that we need to have a small group discussion one day - it's yet to happen but I don't doubt that it might one day.


Sharing our obsessions got me thinking about my own strange obsessions I've had over the years.  I think it would be an interesting thing to explore in writing some time.  I've tried to think of some of the things I've gotten hung-up on for a period of time growing up, and I found that most of these obsessions came about because of a movie:

Source: sharetv.org via Jade on Pinterest

Storm Chasers - - I loved Twister and went around 'chasing' them in the backyard with my own 'Dorothy' I'd made from a plastic play grocery store cart, balls of paper, and the little whirligigs that blow in the wind.  One year for Christmas Santa Claus brought me Tornados, Hurricanes, and Thunderstorms videos from The Weather Channel.  I've watched almost all the movies made about tornados (that seemed to be my favorite storm to chase).


The Home Alone movies - - I was Kevin. I wanted a brown backpack like him to carry the TalkBoy I got for a birthday (or Christmas, can't remember). I had Mom record things he said into my TalkBoy ("...and I want one of those little refrigerators you have to open with a key.  Credit card, you got it!").  This is perhaps the weirdest obsession in my mind, and I can't really figure out why I was so interested.

Titanic - - I already talked about this in a recent post; I loved the 1997 film and started exploring the real Titanic, checking out books at the library, watching the old films of the tragedy, typing up facts about the people and the things onboard on our little computer and printing them out.

I'm sure there were many more in between if I really sit and think about it, but when I was older I was obsessed with more literature-related stuff:

Transcendentalists and the American Bloomsbury - - Writers who lived in Concord, Massachusetts - Louisa May Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry David Thoreau. I thought it was so interesting that they all lived close to one another and had relationships, such brilliance living in one area.  When I was a sophomore in college my parents took our vacation in Concord and my mom and I got to tour the Alcott house; we visited Walden Pond where Thoreau lived for a while and wrote Walden; we saw Hawthorne's and Emerson's houses.  I am so thankful that my family took the time to do this, because goodness knows they weren't that interested in it except that it was part of American history and it's quite beautiful up there.

Holocaust Literature - - Another tragedy to add to Titanic and Tornadoes, I've been interested in Holocaust literature since college and can probably call this an ongoing obsession. I think it first started around the time I was in a play about children in the Holocaust called I Never Saw Another Butterfly.  I never got to take a Holocaust Lit class (though they offered one...bummer), but I've researched it a lot on my own and written papers since then.  I have a growing list of related books and I'd eventually love to build a class centered around Holocaust Lit.  I find it fascinating that what these people - who were days and months from their death, threatened with being exterminated, or those who lived and survived - wanted to do was write and create art.   The children in Terezin wrote and drew on the back of Nazi paper; they could turn it over and find the list of people who were dying around them. If that isn't powerful and if those words don't tell us something, then I don't know if there is really power in anything. "A Wall of Two" is a collection of poetry written by two sisters in a concentration camp; they sewed the words into their clothes and they live on today. Anne Frank's words live on. These victims of humanity survived through the words they left. Those words are read today. They live through those words. Their words will last forever (or as long as someone finds the need to pass them on).  I just find that amazing.

The Hunger Games - - Again, a very recent and current obsession.  Anytime I hear someone talking about it I join the conversation.  I know many people think it's a bit morbid (and it is) but it's a powerful story and metaphor for our world, providing a place to begin discussion about oppression, subversive living, and class structures.

It's interesting to think about our obsessions; they tell a lot about our personalities and experiences, and they help us explore the stages we've gone through.  Our obsessions shape us and stay with us for the rest of our lives. What obsessions did you have growing up or do you have now?

*from Merriam-Webster dictionary online

Titanic: The Final Word

When the feature film Titanic came out I was in middle school, that nerdy stage where you're sensitive to most everything.  I loved the film and started checking out books, magazines, and old movies about the Titanic from the library.  My grandparents subscribed to National Geographic so I could get the special edition book about the Titanic exhibitions (and I still have it at home).  I bought the Titanic Original soundtrack, the board game (yes, there's a board game, and it has nothing to do with the movie) and the 'Back to Titanic' soundtrack.  

Titanic (1997) Source

This wasn't the first movie/event that I had become a little obsessed about, and it certainly wasn't the last. Even when I graduated from college only a couple years ago, my parents took my husband, brother, and me to the Titanic museum in Pigeon Forge (and I have to say I was pretty giddy about it). Though I'm not still stuck on Titanic, it will always have a special place in my heart because of those memories I have of learning and connecting to the tragedy as a young, nerdy middle-schooler.  I've met a fellow Titanic-lover in my CNF class (although I think she's still very much attached to the story and is trying to explore her attachment in one of her creative essays).

A Night to Remember (1958) Source

I haven't gone to see the 1997 movie re-released in 3-D, frankly because I'm not that into 3-D movies.  My husband and I did catch about half of James Cameron's documentary The Titanic: The Final Word.  Because I'd watched the old films made about Titanic in the 1940s-50s - ones that didn't even show the boat breaking in half because they didn't believe the eye-witness accounts and hadn't yet found the wreckage underwater - I wasn't too surprised that thanks to more recent trips to the wreckage, they've figured out even more about how it sank.  James Cameron and others working on the mission now see that the depiction in the feature film is incorrect.  I think this is fascinating though - another movie made and proven to be wrong.  Though they say they've figured out exactly how it went down now, I think it's safe to say we might never truly know, or else we're giving in to the very hubris over nature that caused the tragedy in the first place.


I particularly enjoyed the last few minutes of the documentary - Cameron compared the Titanic to our society today, "it's a perfect little encapsulation of the world and all social spectrum..."  I thought it was pretty brilliant how he discussed our own 'full-speed-ahead' mindset that will always affect the steerage (the poor) the most, while the wealthy will always have access to necessities and means of survival.  I can't explain it quite as eloquently as he did so I'll just direct you to a transcript of the final two minutes of the documentary (my favorite part). And here's a short video that shows the main points of the film.   

Writing Too Much Elsewhere...

I've been writing so much for school these past few days I've not had time (or energy) or anything left to say on here.  I've been enjoying the writing for creative non-fiction, especially getting the chance to share drafts with classmates, getting feedback, and reading what other people have written.  Our class has our own blog where we have to post short writings, describing the simple moments in our days to practice writing about our life.  It's been fun reading about other people's small moments and having to pay close attention for moments to write about! I might share a couple on here when the class is finished.

This week I have to lead the class in a writing exercise and I've chosen to do something connected to the body, after taking Writing the Body last quarter.  We've not really read anything from the assigned readings about the body (or at least I've not been paying attention to that aspect when we've been reading) so I went back to some favorite memoirs to find examples for class.  My favorite writer at the moment, Barbara Brown Taylor, writes quite a bit about the body in An Altar in the World so I'm going to take in a few quotes as examples.

I thought since I have nothing else to say I'll just leave you with some of these quotes, because they're great.

"Our bodies have shaped our views of the world, just as the world has shaped our views of our bodies.  Each of us has a unique body 'signature,' which consists not only of our distinctive physical characteristics but also of our posture, gait, our way of using our hands.  The moment I come into a room, you can tell that I was 5'10'' in the eighth grade.  All these years later, it is still difficult for me to stand up straight. To square my shoulders requires an act of conscious will, since that only makes me taller" (40).


"Each of us has not only a set temperature but also a kinetic energy about us, a distinctive way of being physical that tells others more about us than anything we say" (40).


"'It is easier to lie with the lips than with the body,' goes an old proverb, which also a long way toward explaining why many of us are so reticent about our flesh.  It is not easy being so revealed to every passerby, who can often read us better than we can read ourselves simply by watching the way we walk, sit, or eat.  Our bodies are prophets.  They know when things are out of whack and they say so, although most of us welcome their news about as warmly as the people of Jerusalem welcomed Jeremiah's.  We would rather lock up our bodies than listen to what they have to say.  Where Christians are concerned, this leaves us in the peculiar position of being followers of the Word Made Flesh who neglect our own flesh - or worse - who treat our bodies with shame and scorn" (41).


"The body is a great focuser, whether the means is pain or pleasure.  The body is a great reminder of where we came from and where we are going, on the one sacred journey that we all make whether we mean to or not" (65).

Brave Girls Club

I haven't posted in several days because I've been busy with school and life...and well, I feel a bit unmotivated.  So I thought I'd share a little blurb about a recent addition to my blog...

Last week I added a badge to my blog that will take you to the Brave Girls club, an online community for the empowerment of women.  I've just recently begun receiving their daily emails called 'a little bird told me...' and I've really enjoyed the positive, comforting, uplifting words of encouragement delivered to my inbox everyday.

Their mission statement: "Brave Girls Club is a place to feel free, to feel peace, and to feel brave. Brave Girls Club is not an exclusive club…every woman is invited. Brave Girls Club is life-changing fun, life-changing truths, and life-changing friendships."  


I heard about the daily emails on Facebook from a woman I met in Oxford, and I'm so glad she shared them for others to check out.  So I'm sharing them with you! Every girl and woman needs some positive vibes sent their way, right? Sign up and "don't spend one second on negativity!"

Brian Doyle's 'Leap'

For my first night of assigned readings for my Creative Nonfiction class this quarter I got one of the authors mixed up on the syllabus and read the wrong reading.  This wouldn't have been that bad if I hadn't chosen that 'wrong' reading for my first response journal.  Come to find out that author's not even included in the syllabus - - 'Why yes, I am in my second year of grad school, preparing to graduate in June, why do you ask?'

Anyway, I didn't turn it in that day and make a fool of myself (although I really don't think our professor would've minded...she probably would've read it and given me a grade, but I chose not to give her the first impression of me as someone who can't even read the name off a syllabus correctly).  I digress...

I wanted to share the reading because I thought it was quite powerful, and well I have this useless response journal.  You can read the (very) short essay here and then I've posted my response below.  The essay is called "Leap" by Brian Doyle (the 'correct' author was Doty and they're right next to each other in the anthology, so see I wasn't too far off...okay well maybe I have no excuse).  We're using the Touchstone Anthology of Contemporary Creative Nonfiction edited by Williford and Martone.

Leap - excerpts from an essay by Brian Doyle (Acrylic, gouache, graphite on Tyvek)
by Kathleen Borkowski
Source: Kathleen Borkowski website

Brian Doyle’s “Leap” touched me in a way I could have never thought possible from a page and a half piece of writing. As a member of the ‘9/11 generation’ it took me only moments to realize what event he was discussing in his piece. Within seconds I was taken back to my eighth grade Home Economics classroom and the visions on the television of smoke and fire coming from the Twin Towers; we all sat mesmerized, horrified, watching the cameras pan from one image to the next. Our teacher had never experienced our silence before, and she wouldn’t again. In that moment, I felt ‘American’ in a way I’d never felt before and have never felt since. Doyle’s brief, but stunning piece took me back to that moment. It also conjured up a more recent image of the photograph in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer depicting a man jumping from the tower.

Perhaps Doyle's influence and power in conjuring up these powerful images is what makes it such a great piece of writing. It takes us back and connects us to those moments, what we thought, how we felt, what we tried to tell ourselves to find some sense of comfort. In a brief page and a half he captures the moment, the people who witnessed the powerful image of the couple holding hands, and the connection to verses in the Bible.

His weaving of Scripture was perhaps what touched me the most; he tries to give words and meaning to the positive image witnessed amid the turmoil and tragedy. Even in the way he incorporates those Scriptures – “wrote John the Apostle” or “says the Book of Wisdom” – he makes it seem less like he’s pulling them from a holy text, and more like he’s quoting wise friends who provide wisdom in a time of need.

His inclusion of people’s names – the people who had watched as they leapt from the towers – seemed odd to me at first. As I read their names silently, I wondered why he had chosen this kind of ‘reportage’ style, quoting them as one would in a newspaper. But after reading through the entire piece, I understand that what Doyle might be doing is providing real witnesses, people who could, in a sense, ‘give voice’ to the circumstance, and in turn, share those images with us, as readers.

Though this piece, and its subject matter, has the danger of sounding ‘sentimental’ or overly optimistic, his has enough realism and an underlying message that death and tragedy, though inescapable, cannot be explained or understood. Instead, he urges that in those moments when we could easily focus on the “screaming souls of the murderers,” why not remember the “extraordinary ordinary succinct naked stunning perfect simple ferocious love?” (166).

I think what makes this a wonderful example of creative nonfiction is that he tells the story of a true event, while weaving in his own speculations and reflections. He has also tried to make connections to other tragedies, guiding his readers to see that love “is everything that we are capable of against horror and loss and death” (166). Even in this terrible moment, when it would have been easy to give up on the power of love, Doyle provides an articulate example that whether these two people were “husband and wife, lovers, dear friends, colleagues, strangers thrown together at the window there at the lip of hell,” they fought against the world’s evil as best they could until their moment of inescapable death. His reflections, along with the inclusion of the witnesses and Scriptures, are what make this a powerful example of creative nonfiction.

Rooms Apart: Talking About ROOM

Today, my good friend and fellow blogger, Lindsey and I sat down together (on our computers in separate states) and discussed Emma Donoghue's Room.  Our original intentions had been to post the conversation on both our blogs, but once I read her post I really thought there was absolutely nothing left to add - she did a fabulous job introducing our discussion and the book itself.

So before I direct you to her post, I want to give her an introduction, like she did so well for me.  Lindsey graduated in May 2011 with a masters' degree in Humanities and Sciences from Fordham University in New York City; she attended Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan for her undergrad.  As she notes in her post we met during a study-abroad program in Oxford when we were both in college, and became instant friends from the moment we met at the airport in London.  Since then we started writing letters every few months (yes, the ones with stamps) and have since kept up a more 'virtual' relationship on our blogs and Facebook.  I also currently live in the same city as her sister (small world, I know!) so we've been able to meet in person several times during the last couple of years! She included a picture of us on her post and so I just had to do the same!

Lindsey and me waiting for our bus to take us back to the airport - our last morning in Oxford :(

And now I'll direct you to her lovely post - Conversations with a Friend: The Challenges of Living Outside ROOM - enjoy!!

.wrestling with 'Christianity'.

Last month I presented a paper I wrote in my Feminism and Christianity class called "Feminism and Christianity: Christ as Feminist Leader, the Church as Socio-political Movement."  During our panel, it was great being back in this conversation again with fellow Christians and non-believers alike. In a couple more weeks I will present the same paper at Cornerstone University's philosophy conference ("Thinking Christianity in the Present Tense: The Politics of Discipleship") in Grand Rapids, Michigan, thanks to my friend, Lindsey, who shared with me the 'call for papers.' Once again, I'll be back in conversation with others about what it means to be a Christian in today's society.

I've had the following blog post drafted for a while, but I've not felt comfortable about posting it (I'm not sure why, it's merely my frustrations and reflections on Christianity.  They're ongoing and ever-changing, so I suppose that's why I hesitate to share).  Again, Lindsey helped give me the courage to share my thoughts after posting a similar discussion on her blog.  So here goes...

'The Church' by Diane E. Fairfield
Source: civa-artists.ning.com

I have to admit, I grow more and more frustrated with 'modern American Christianity,' the one that's used as a political weapon to oppress people, control bodies, and win votes. A friend and fellow grad student has even considered the idea of no longer calling herself a 'Christian' because of the negative connotations that come along with it.  'Follower of Christ' might be a more apt 'label.'

I begin this post by saying that I do not study theology like my husband or the many people he goes to school with, so what follows might feel more like an awkward dance than a graceful ballet.  Nevertheless, I've been wanting to write about this topic for a while, so I've got to start somewhere, right?

I grew up Southern Baptist which meant I was raised to fear going to hell; descriptions of it were preached from the wooden pulpit many Sundays, selected readings from the book of Revelations.  I was urged that 'if you'll just repeat this simple prayer after me, your name will be written in The Book of Life and you'll receive the Kingdom of Heaven when you die.' Pretty simple and individualistic, right?  Repeat these words, believe them, and you'll be granted everlasting life.

I'm reminded of the childhood fears of hell when I see bumper stickers like the one we saw yesterday: "If you drop dead today will you go to heaven or hell?"  I'm always left wondering whether that's the first question this Christian would ask when 'ministering' or 'witnessing' to non-believers; I shudder at the prospective answer and wonder whether the simple smiley-face "Jesus Loves You" might have been a better sticker choice...to each his own, I suppose.

Having since moved away from the Southern Baptist tradition and attended Presbyterian and Episcopal churches in both the southwest Virginia area and our present home, southern Ohio, I've learned an equally 'scary' concept of being a Christian.  It's written in Matthew 25 (an excerpt rarely discussed in my childhood Southern Baptist church community); you can read the full excerpt here, but I'll give you the summary from Matt 25:40: "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."  Gone away is the comforting 'simple prayer' of the individualist Christian making his straight path to heaven, and introduced is this communal notion that our path is paved by believing in the salvation of Christ and 'doing for the least of these brother and sisters.'  



Christian establishments (churches) that emphasize the 'hell, fire, brimstone' rather than the 'daily walk' -  might think they have others beat when it comes to making the congregation shake in their boots, but I'm afraid to say this one keeps me on my toes in a much more physical sense than the former.  But I have to say that I'm much more eager to be working toward this goal than the other.  As a child I was fearful of being 'Left Behind' even after having prayed the 'simple prayer' and being baptized in the small pool above the alter (possibly because the preacher asserted that sometimes "the first time didn't take").  I believed in Jesus, tried to obey my parents, and continued living my childlike understanding of Christianity the best I could. Now I understand these small fears might have been a reminder that Christianity is not like a passport we get stamped and 'we're good to go.'  We need to continually remind ourselves that we are called, by Jesus himself, to do for the 'least of these,' sharing the love of Christ with others.


I realize I'm not saying anything new or revelatory here.  In fact, it reminds me of a friend's sermon I had the pleasure of listening to the other day (you can read it here).  She started her sermon with the story of a preacher who preached the same lesson on the Gospel every Sunday.  Sunday after Sunday he gave that same sermon on the Gospel, until one day someone in the congregation asked him why he gave the same sermon week after week?  Why didn't he try teaching something else?  The preacher replied, "Because week after week you leave and go out in the world and forget it.  I'm hoping if I preach it long enough, it'll stick."

I am challenged by Matt 25 on a daily basis, perhaps one reason why I've been wanting to write about it.  Belief in Jesus is only the first step in becoming and living life as a Christian.  As Christians we should be encouragers of our faith, standing up for one another when we/others are oppressed or bullied for our/their beliefs.  Otherwise, we become the negative examples people point to when they can't understand why Christians are any different than anyone else.

I was reminded of this tonight as I was driving home listening to a song by Brooke Frasier called "Hosea's Wife."  They're powerful lyrics, especially the chorus: We are Hosea's Wife/ we are squandering this life/ Using people like ladders and words like knives/ If we've eyes to see/ If we've ears to hear/ To find it in our hearts and mouths/ The word that saves is near/ Shed that shallow skin/ Come and live again/ Leave all you were before/ To believe is to begin.  To believe is to begin, and believing is just the beginning...