Wanderings

I have begun a journey since I ended my conventional career. It has proven to be a meandering, unpredictable journey, a journey of words and ideas. The simple act of putting organized thoughts onto a page in a relatable/understandable format is daunting. When I ended my full-time job to focus on bringing my ideas to life, I had a rosy picture in my mind of what it would look like: Peaceful hours spent pouring ideas onto a page while sipping tea.

The reality is very, very different. I found that the cacophony of life did not end when I ended my job; it only grew louder. Before, for forty hours each week, the demands of my personal life and friendships were supplanted by the more immediate demands of work. These demands made sense; each had their place of importance for the hours I was present at my job. I ordered my life around these demands, which meant I didn't have to create a structure; my job provided ready-made structure.
That structure, once removed, allowed the rest of the noise of my life crowd in and overwhelm my time. This noise isn't bad, or a waste of time, but I find that it often drowns out the desire/time I have to write. The slow process that comes with cultivating an idea  into a written reality amplifies the noise of the rest of everyday life, distracting me all the more.

Do I ignore the noise? Do I allow relationships to fallow while I write?

To a certain extent, yes. There are times when I must put relationships, activities, and busywork off in order to focus on my work. Yet I have found, in my messy existence called the present, that engaging with the noise and cultivating rich friendships often encourages growth in my writing. A life devoid of people, color, and activity is stagnant, and such stagnation will lead to colorless writing.

What does this mean for me?

It means that, as with all of life, I am seeking balance. Balance in my writing. Balance in my relationships. Balance in the busywork. I have not even come close to attaining the balance I desire to see in my own life, but slowly I am search for ways to find it each day. Whether it is committing to a daily 30-minute walk or 2 hours of writing each week, or taking a day to immerse myself in the relationships I have (or the housework I've allowed to pile up haha), I am continually looking for ways to cultivate and grow my life.
My writing journey over the past few months has been a wandering but colorful one. Though there are many things I still need to learn about balancing my life, I have found great joy in the meandering. I have many things to learn still, but my prayer is that this journey will be one of learning and growing. 

Roulette, Coquetry, and Robbery: A Triple Review

The Gambler, Fyodor Dostoevsky

"I'm a lost soul. But why should I not rise from the dead? All I need to do is play cautiously and patiently at first and the rest will follow."

Rating: Excellent

Recommendation: High

The Gambler is Dostoevsky's brutal picture of the slow decay of a gambling addict. Himself an ex-gambler, he writes a vivid and telling story of a young man's downfall at the gambling tables. Written in the first person narrative, this tale rips open the prideful heart of a young Russian tutor. He is sure of his own success at the gaming tables throughout the story, even in the face of extreme losses. He falls wildly in love with Polina, the step-daughter of the man engaging him as a tutor. Yet as events transpire, the reader comes to realize that he does not truly love or even care for her. The only one he truly loves is himself, and even that is swallowed up in his passion for the gaming tables.

Dostoevsky shows the sneaking justification of the gambler for his losses, his utter dependence upon Luck, and how wealth can turn to ruin at but the flip of the dice.

~~~

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen

Rating: Obsolete

Recommendation: Ambivalent


Mansfield Park, if anything substantive, is the study of human selfishness. The story is told through the eyes of the all-too obliging Fanny Price. The reader will spend the entirety of the novel frustrated by the way Miss Price allows herself to be mistreated and maligned by the majority of the book's characters. Fanny all but laid down on the floor and allowed every character (including the sainted Edmund) walk over her, she was that much of a doormat. I must say my respect for her improved by the end of the book, as she showed a surprising amount of moral fiber in her refusal of the dashing narcissistic Mr. Crawford.
I watched a number of adaptations of this book before reading it, and found them quite lacking in portraying two things: 1) the quietness of Fanny in sticking to her morals. 2) the selfishness of Edmund, who is generally portrayed as a beguiled saint (see above note).
The Fanny of the adaptations is quite noisy in her refusal of Mr. Crawford, and her uncle tends to explode in her face and sends her home because of the seeming groundlessness of her refusal. In the book he sends her home for a short visit, thinking that the contrast of her life at Mansfield with her family's life in Portsmouth will soften her to the luxurious prospect of Mr. Crawford's hand. But he says none of this to her, and he loses none of his fondness for her in the process.
Edmund, generally portrayed as overly gentle and thoughtful in his care of Fanny, is actually shown to be just as thoughtless (if more amiable) as his siblings when he wants to be. He forgets Fanny in his pursuit of love, and only remembers her as an afterthought.
Even the best of us are selfish. Fanny is selfish in protecting Edmund and her uncle from the truth of Mr. Crawford's character, wishing to remain unnoticed rather than tell them what they don't want to hear. Edmund is selfish in his pursuit of Miss Crawford, allowing his desires to blind him of her meanness and abuse of Fanny. Of the rest of the characters I will not go into detail, for it is quite easy to see their selfishness in the first few pages of their introductions.
Jane Austen writes to entertain, but the subject of selfishness is not one that easily entertains. I found myself more frustrated than anything while reading this book, and even the ending left me feeling rather empty. As an Austen novel it was decent, though not one I would categorize as a "must-read."

~~~

Silas Marner, George Eliot

Rating: Excellent

Recommendation: High

Silas Marner is not a very long book, just over two hundred pages. It is a very light-hearted book compared to some of the others on my list. The story centers around Silas, a young man prematurely aged by societal rejection and ostracism. He is falsely accused and turned out of his home town. He finds solitude in the hamlet of Raveloe, where he is allowed to live but where few trust him. Through a sudden devastation and an unlikely turn of events he is forced to interact with the villagers around him. This story captivates the reader and leads them on a journey through intrigue, joy, sorrow, and a love that overcomes all of these.