Movies movies and V-hearts

In response to several rave reviews for Netflix, I finally decided to sign up -- maybe now I'll finally actually see some of the movies on my "I really should see that" list! So let me know what your "must see" DVDs are, and maybe I'll add them to my queue.

I managed to get some sewing done this week. I helped organize the campus production of The Vagina Monologues (by Eve Ensler) in the spring (I was the main director), and it made me think a great deal about the issues and symbolism she evokes. If you aren't familiar with the play, it is about women's experiences of their sexuality and their bodies; Eve Ensler allows college campuses to perform the show for free in February/March as part of V-Day, the initiative to end violence against women (all proceeds go to organizations focused on violence against women).

In the final monologue, she compares the vagina to a heart:

The heart is capable of sacrifice.
So is the vagina.
The heart is able to forgive and repair.
It can change its shape to let us in.
It can expand to let us out.
So can the vagina.
It can ache for us and stretch for us, die for us and bleed and bleed us into this difficult wondrous world.
So can the vagina.
---Eve Ensler, The Vagina Monologues (2001, p.124-5)

So I got the idea of making fabric hearts which evoked vulval/vaginal imagery (a la Georgia O'Keefe's flowers, for example) -- vagina hearts, in other words (although actually it is more a representation of the vulva than the vagina, but Eve Ensler, like most of our society, underutilizes the word vulva). I wanted to make one for each performer in the show (which I haven't managed to finish yet), some of which would be inspired by some portion of their monologue. It has been great fun: It's making me get some textile art done, and encouraging me to stretch a bit in my textile art. I've also made a couple for friends -- they are a big hit with everyone, so far. I'll post pictures soon, once I get a photo editing program that works with my OS. I tried using the GIMP, which works fine under Linux, but crashes under my Windows OS. I suppose I'll get Photoshop, since that seems to be the most popular program for all kinds of photo editing.

It's storming today -- thunder, lightning, rain, and more thunder and lightning. Maybe I can garden tomorrow, if the storm system moves on. Storms make me sleepy, so there was a vital nap this afternoon...now back to work!

First post

After many months of reading others' blog posts, I finally create one of my own. It's a bit daunting, really. The idea that these words go out around the world for anyone to read activates my perfectionism -- but that merely leads down the road to never writing or posting anything at all! So I alleviate my anxiety with the almost sure knowledge that few people will actually read the post. I'm reminded of the Blue Man Group piece which illustrates the proliferation of media sources leading to little overlapping exposure to any particular media message -- that is, when there are a myriad of media sources available, it's increasingly unlikely that you and I have had exposure to exactly the same media (particularly with increased "channel surfing"). So I write, but without any knowledge or surety of being read; ever the dilemma of our age.

With that sop to an introduction and the exorcism of my blogger anxiety, I can move on to more substantive material. Yesterday was full of weeding the garden, which is satisfying, but strikes me to be fundamentally similar to cleaning. I remember when I worked in food service, how frustrating it was to mop the floor and know that it would just need mopping again in a few hours or a day -- what was the point? Weeding has that same quality; one weeds and then two weeks later, one needs to weed again. While I admire the tenacity of the weeds themselves, I can't help but feel a combination of satisfaction and futility when I pull weeds. It feels great to get them out and see the cleaned beds, but I know they will be back and I'll just have to do it again. Maybe I can just view it as exercise -- after all, we go to the gym with the idea that we will have to do it again, and that rarely feels futile to me. It's all about the cognitive framing, I suppose.

With that said, I go back to revising my course materials for the summer classes which start Monday -- futile or satisfying? You decide! (I vote for satisfying, with some sense of non-futile repetition thrown in for good measure.)