Halloween

It is an odd thing to celebrate Halloween as an adult. I do not yet have a child to celebrate the holiday with. My wife is fiendishly imbued with the spirit of the day and her enthusiasm, regardless of our limited roles as candy dispensers, is certainly infectious. Each year our hopes soar as the night approaches with expectations of droves of costume-clad children coming to beg for our foodstuffs. Each year these hopes wane as the night grinds on until, finally, we must admit defeat.

That we live in a good neighborhood is unquestionable. That we live on a one-way street with bright lights and little traffic is apparent to all. Yet, each year my wife and I wait by the window, watching for ghouls and goblins to approach our door -- and each year they fail to appear.

That this reminds me of trying to get published, the initial writing, the rewriting, the sending off of query letters and applications to school and competitions, I think is a reflection of a larger condition and not just my present mood. So much of life seems to be like Halloween night with all the varied preparation for the event and then, anxious waiting. If a person is looking for a mate they spend a good deal of time cleaning themselves and choosing their clothing, perhaps dieting and exercising, but what then? Perhaps they visit clubs and bars or go to dog parks or cafes, but eventually, their destiny lies with fate. Does that woman sit at their table? Does that man offer a friendly smile? The same holds true with the aspiring musician, the couple trying to conceive a child or the office worker striving to attain that corner office.

In short so much of this seems like my Halloween plight, with the final important stage out of one's hands. You can hang spider webbing from your trees and plant tombstones in your yard but if those children veer left onto Spring Street then all the jack-o-lanterns and candy corn in the world will be in vain.

My wife and I discussed placing a sign, much like for selling a house, on the busy end of our street to tell children that, yes, we are open for candy. Although we ruled it out this year, I expect, that if our turnout tonight is no better than before, our code of conduct for next year might be altered for improved results.

JRS

Character

During a recent visit with my landlord, I was informed for perhaps the twentieth time, that the building which I live in has character. I believe he used the word to mean personality, claiming that what one person may perceive as a flaw would be a charming feature to someone else. I find, being the person who lives in this humble abode, that I have to disagree with him. It is not that the house is lacking in fine points, it has many. It is, rather, that this house has many quirks of an undesirable nature. Without delving into a laundry list of complaints let me list one and then move on. The building was orginally a house and many years later it was divided into three apartments. When this was done the heat for the house was not divided separate zones for the apartments and now all three share the same thermostat. If it is character that your forgetful downstairs neighbor either freezes you or bakes you (depending of course on the time of year) whenever she leaves on vacation, then yes, this residence has plenty.

It strikes me that this notion of character truly applies to the city I live in and how, I think, people come to deal with its many oddities. Washington DC is out nation's capital and has many wonderful places to visit. It is also a wonderful place to live, but again, there are certain quirks which exist that make life less than perfect. This is to be expected but so often these quirks seem to the the product of poor planning and the ability to admit mistakes and rectify them. A good example of this are the sidewalks. In Georgetown a good number of sidewalks carry on following the road, as sidewalks so often do, only to stop abruptly and leave the pedestrian to wonder if they made a wrong turn somewhere. After several years of exploration I can safely say that the fault does not lie with the pedestrian, and even more oddly, if they summon up the courage to continue on without the sidewalk, in most cases they will be reunited only a few blocks later.

Both houses and cities having character has to do with the same thing: coming to terms with a problem. The trick, I imagine, is finding someway to balance out the bad with all the good and walking away from the matter in a cheerful state of mind.

What spurns me on to further thought and discussion (much to my own dismay) is when those in shouting distance seem unaware that such situations existed. When I say to my landlord "The windows don't open properly because you painted them shut." I expect his response to address the point I just made. When I say to my neighbor "Any idea why the sidewalk ends in front of those three houses and then begins again?" I expect them to have noticed this situation prior to the conversation and to have some thoughts on the matter. Strangely enough the landlord often makes a reply that does not address the paint and the window and the neighbor often looks at me as though I just spotted a distant and unknown planet with my naked eye.

I can recognize that not only does my landlord not live in my apartment, but he looks after his own best interests and that usually means not spending money. My neighbor may never walk anywhere and therefore find the concepts of sidewalks a quaint one, like horses and buggies as a viable form of transportation. The simple fact of the matter is we are all paying attention to our own matters because they have some direct effect upon us. When something outside our sphere is highlighted, when the person next to you in the grocery store exclaims, "This bottle of vitamins is three times the cost of those and they are the same vitamins!" it's not that this should stop you in your tracks and cause you to compose a letter to the manufacturer.  I would think, though, that it would tug at just the corner of your mind and make you ponder, if only for a moment, why such a thing would be. I can think of nothing healthier than a small amount of curiosity for this world around us especially when we find ourselves living in such close proximity.

The Nature of Things

Each year at this time my thoughts inevitably turn to one thing: cleaning my apartment. This urge is an odd one and I do my utmost to fight it each time it rears its ugly head. I am not opposed to cleaning and in fact I tend to vote in favor of cleanliness whenever polled. What I am opposed to is light cleaning. A room has many nooks and crannies, especially when the house itself is old, and topical cleaning does little to deal with the hidden dirt.

Prior to working in a restaurant I, like the few people I have been priviledged to observe, had little trouble doing light cleaning. It was only under the careful eye of my employer that I learned of the horrors hidden under every table and flattop stove. It was only after he showed me the crafty ways of crestfallen eggshells and the lengths fallen potatoes would go to in order to avoid detection that I came to value the importance of properly cleaning. Since receiving these lessons I have found, often to my dismay, that unless I have done the job properly I can derive no satisfaction from it. The trouble is it is an awful lot of work.

This is the time of year when many things change. Where I live the leaves are still holding on, despite the cold temreratures and in many cases despite their deaths, but the change is apparent. The most important changes of course take place in booths with ballots and (perhaps someplace still) levers. Much like the cleaning I find it hard to vote on a topical level and this too has lead to some apathy regarding the act.

Undoubtedly voting is one of the great accomplishments of the American politcal system and it is shameful to not take part in it. At the same time, uninformed voting is just as useless and potentially more harmful than not voting at all. If you listen to the radio or your fellow passengers on the subway, you undoutedly know that everyone has an opinion on these elections and these candidates. Everyone certainly feels informed and aware of the real issues.

It stands to reason that the falling leaves and dying grass play a role in feelings of depression, but I think there is something more behind it. In the spring, at least when I get around to cleaning, the messy part of the year is behind you. Very little mud or snow gets tracked into the house after the first of May and the possiblity of keeping the floors clean seems promising. In the fall the battle seems lost before it is begun, and each year in true Viking spirit, I steele myself go through the motions.

Why is it then that I am unable to do the same with the much more important act of voting? Is it because it is too much of a hassle to go the voting centers and wait in line? I don't know. I am unable to offer any concrete reason why I continue to abstain from voting when I believe in this system so completely. On some level I feel, in a manner that I am not wholly proud of, that simply casting my vote in the upcoming presidential election is akin to sweeping around the furniture. The lazy part of me knows that if I do a decent job in this manner no one will know the wiser but the honest cleaner inside will know and will shake his weary head each time he sits in that chair and thinks of the dust lying in wait beneath him. 

In this same manner the honest voter in me cannot help but feel that just turning out for election day is, in some fundamental way, dereliction of duty. The political process is a daunting one now, where the candidates for the next election seem to be campaigning only a few months after an election takes place. The lazy voter in me looks at this and throws his hands in the air and says in that defeated voice of his, "This makes no sense, I can't see any way to affect this process other than helping choose between the ones they serve up for me." Sadly the honest voter has had no response to this for quite some time because he too is at something of a loss for how to best to remove all the furniture and hangings in order to get at the dirt and dust that has found a way into those those hard to reach places. 

Beginning

This blog has existed for some time now, although this is to be the first post. After a long discussion with my wife this morning about Mr. White, I decided that I should take the plunge and put aside my dislike of this dreaded format and get to writing. So in the spirit of E.B. let me begin with this:

I see very little difference between blogs and horror films. Both are cheaply made, lacking in substance and despite these shortcomings immensely popular. Popularity and quality need not go hand in hand but it is baffling to see something of such poor make sustain itself for so long. The rational person would conclude that the fault must lie with the critic. While I cannot bring myself to admit that the blogs I have read are any better than I found them to be, I do believe a blog, much like a horror movie, can be well-made and worthwhile.

My hope is that, for me, the daily act of writing in a stream of consciousness manner will be helpful to the other kinds of writing I do. For those reading I hope you find the thoughts and ideas put forth interesting, perhaps amusing, but at very least relevant to your own lives. I make no claims to having any insight into life that any of you lack nor do I believe that my perceptions are more piercing. I write. It is what I do and therefore I believe it makes a good deal more sense for me to write this blog than it does for my neighbor the doctor or my neighbor the plumber.

How I intend to proceed:

I will do my utmost to prevent this from becoming a daily diary about my life. Although I do think an account of my professional life (and current lack thereof) should be included, I do not intend to make this a fast and economical record of all that I do.

What I pledge to anyone who takes the trouble to read what I write is this: what you read here will not be the hasty musings of someone with too much time on their hands. Nothing published to the web from this blog will appear without being reread, spellchecked and edited.

Finally, for those of you not familiar with the essays of Mr. E.B. White please do visit your library or local bookstore and give him a look. His writings span numerous decades and touch on topics that are relevant today. To try and write in the same spirit as Mr. White is quite a task to set for myself and I will do my utmost to achieve it.

So until tomorrow,

JRS