A note about time:

Sometimes I dread the passing of time because it takes me closer and closer to the things that worry me, terrify me, or make me sad. I wake up in the morning, not excited because a new day is here, fresh and unspoilt, but because the new day says, "We are one day away from the doctor's appointment that makes you nervous. We are two days away from that deadline being overdue. We are one week away from that uncomfortable conversation you are going to need to have with someone. We are a month away from you trying that new thing that makes your very fingertips shake with trepidation and the muscles of your arm feel limp and weak. We are one year away from you being exactly the same person you are right now, unchanged, not developed by the life you are supposed to be living."

Time can be such a hard taskmaster.

But it is worth remembering that time, the very same passing of seconds and minutes and hours and days that pulls nearer the things we dread, also pulls nearer the things we cherish the most. Some of them are big things. Some of them are small. Some of them come intertwined with the things we fear. Some of them stand alone. But they are good things. Like new people you don't even know, just waiting to be met. Like new accomplishments. Like your best friend marrying the love of her life. Like your brother marrying the love of his. Like new books written by your favourite author. Like new discoveries. Like getting to see your grandparents with all their children gathered around them. Like the sequel to your favourite movie coming out at the cinema. Like Autumn, followed by Winter.

Each day that passes is a day closer to the thing that makes your stomach curl up in knots. But it is also a day closer to the next time your little niece and little nephew get to meet each other and twine their fat little hands together.

Time is not always cruel. Sometimes it is the friendliest thing in the world.

Ha ha ha ha, life is real; OR: a review of Hyperbole and a Half, by Allie Brosh

I used to think I would grow up to be a funny person. Spoiler alert: I didn't. Instead, I grew up to be a person who appreciates funniness, which sounds kind of similar but is actually in no way the same.

Occasionally my hopeful past self looks at my disappointing present self and is, well, disappointed. But it can't be helped. The world needs both funny people and funny appreciators. If we were all funny, in a way none of us would be. We wouldn’t be impressed by the funny ones because funniness would be in no way unique, and no one would get any money by being funny. It'd be like paying people for breathing, which is stupid because you really only seem special for being able to breathe after you stop doing it.

Which brings me to Hyperbole and a Half, which I just finished last week and which was the perfect bittersweet happy/sad read to bring me into the new year. It’s the sort of thing you finish and think, “Yes, I could’ve written this,” – and not in the “I have the skills” kind of way (because I don’t), but in the “Oh that resonated with me in a way that made me laugh and also hurt a little bit.”

I always feel like there's a thin line between comedy and tragedy, and someone else somewhere must have said that because I remember hearing it and realising that's exactly what I think every time I enjoy something funny. The best kind of humour is, I think, about people trying to be people. We can be entertained by people trying to be people because, although humanness is our natural form, it doesn't actually come that naturally to most of us. If I watch Parks and Recreation (which could be described as a happy character comedy) when I’m on my own, I will end up crying at least once, usually more often, per twenty minute episode. And I think this is because, even though everything is compacted and exaggerated (it’s comedy, after all), it’s just so human.

That's how I feel about Hyperbole and a Half. It’s so human! And it explores aspects of being human (mostly depression, insecurity, poor adulting, and weird pets) that are highly relatable. If you’re not familiar with Allie Brosh’s work, check out her blog. I could explain things to you but it’s like when people feel compelled to retell Carl Barron jokes: they are only funny if they are coming out of the mouth of a weird little bald guy with strange diction. So just visit the blog (be warned: both the blog and the book contain some swears) and explore her bizarrely endearing comic strip essays. If you are already a friend of the blog, then why haven’t you read the book already?

You have no excuse.

January book haul:

Mmm, books. This is a big fat pile of the books I purchased in January. I don't think I've ever bought so many new books in one month before (except textbooks at the start of a fresh semester), but I stumbled across one of those $3-a-book popup stores and also had some Christmas money to spend. Hence, BOOKS. Here's a quick fly-by of the books I purchased and a bit of the reasoning why. I'll post reviews for the books as I read them:

When Did You See Her Last? by Lemony Snicket :: This is book 2 in Lemony Snicket's fabulous new(er) series, All The Wrong Questions. The first one was a very fun read, with a cute mystery and Lemony Snicket's characteristic quirky prose. I just really enjoy the way he uses words. As you read, you can almost hear him rolling the words around in his mouth, tasting them for their flavour. PS. I recommended this book to one of my students on a recent trip to our local library, and he promptly borrowed it. He's a reluctant reader (aged 11) but was totally gripped by this one. It was lots of fun to hear him laughing out loud during his "silent" reading time.

Voyager by Jan Mark :: I know nothing about this book, but Jan Mark is great, and for $3 it's worth a try.

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen :: This was super-hyped when it first appeared, but of course I'm yet to read it because sometimes I just take forever to be won over to things. We'll see.

Extras by Scott Westerfeld :: Somehow I managed to read all the other books in the Uglies series, but lost steam when I reached this one. I'm here to round out the... quadrilogy? What's it called when it's a trilogy but there ends up being four books in the series?

The Cardturner by Louis Sachar :: Even though it's Louis Sachar, storytelling prince of my heart, I steered clear of The Cardturner because I thought it was about poker, and I'm so not interested in poker. Then I read a review and discovered the card game the book repeatedly references is bridge. So yes! I'm going to read it now.

Unwind by Neal Shusterman :: Somehow I completely missed this dystopian (? sci fi?) series when it first appeared, but was alerted to it through the glories of tumblr. The concept that it's based on -- abortion of fetuses has been outlawed, but parents are allowed, instead, to "unwind" their children's memories when they reach the age of thirteen -- is incredibly intriguing. I'll let you know what I think when I'm done.

Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh :: I love the blog and I loved the book. I'll be posting my review soon!

Sister Mother Husband Dog (etc) by Delia Ephron :: The entire Ephron family is intriguing. Maybe by reading this memoir, I can soak up some of their creativity by way of osmosis.

Death Comes to Pemberley by PD James :: I bought this one for a friend a while back, but haven't read it myself. PD James writing fanfiction? Yes, that's totally what this is and no one can convince me otherwise.

What books did you buy or read in January?

Safety zone.

Blogging is such an interesting communication dynamic. If you think about it in the barest sense of what it actually is, it's weird. It's a person talking to nobody, and at the same time it's a person talking to everybody. Personal blogging (as opposed to, say, tech blogging or something) is even stranger. It's someone saying, "Here. Sit down. I'll write you a letter and tell you all about my life. I might know you, or I might not. You might read it, or you might not. You might reply, or you might not. You might approve, or you might not." There are so many variables and unknowns and blogging leaves a lot of room for abuse of the medium. The (seeming) anonymity of the project can lead to oversharing, or fake curated lives. Similarly, the open-ended nature of the discussion can result in a misuse of trust. There are just as many jerks on the internet as there are in real life, but on the internet the jerk can walk right up to someone and say something jerklike and -- then walk away (without either being recognised or punched in the nose).

Yet even though the ability to misuse the medium is dangling within everyone's reach, I think it's worth it.
In spite of everything, I love blogging and what it represents. Even more than that, I am wowed by the people who have jumped into this pool with me. Life's busy; we've all got a million things to do. So when someone takes the time to read and, even more, comment, it blows me away.

I think I'm feeling this especially after my last post, which was raw and uncool and kind of intimate, in a way. Intimacy scares people. But in spite of the shaky ground, a whole bunch of you responded with your own honesty and genuineness and -- I'm actually grinning at my computer monitor just thinking about it.

So here's to you guys, the readers. I wish you tiny apples, fresh sourdough, and bush honey. You've made this blog a safe space, and you're great.

All things new.

For the last few years, I haven’t made New Year’s resolutions in the typical sense. I used to do that whole thing of portioning out goals for each aspect of my life, and I’m not against that, it just doesn’t happen organically for me anymore. Rather, the last few years for me have seen one key idea come to light, one concept that I’m able to hold in the forefront of my mind and consider for the length of a year. Usually it’s vague on specifics but generous with an ideal. One year it was “just say yes,” which was an experiment in me saying yes to things I’d normally want to say no to. Another year it was “holy confidence / bold love,” and that one became so important that I recycled it and reused it for the next year. I still catch myself pondering and praying about this idea now.

As the end of 2013 approached, I hadn’t really formulated one idea to keep with me throughout 2014. As I mentioned earlier, 2013 – especially the latter half – was rough for so many around me. In my own life, 2013 felt characterised by weakness and what I saw as a failure to be a thriving, productive adult. I was napping more, reading less, and seemingly getting through very little in a day even though I felt ridiculously busy and pulled in several directions at once.

At the same time, though, I was feeling the need to pull back on the things in my life that were leaving me emotionally, mentally, and physically depleted. But the thought of doing that made me feel ashamed and guilty. As a maturing adult, I should be fitting more into my life, not less. I should be doing more, being more, and achieving more, right? Instead, I was embarrassed about the fact that I actually felt like I needed sleep for the first time in my life, as well as for the tears that started to come a lot more readily to my eyes. “What are you crying about?” “Um, just nothing and everything.”

As so often happens (and this is where I believe God speaks to me, in all these little encouragements and markers, even though the idea is controversial), in the last weeks of 2013 and the first weeks of 2014, I kept stumbling across resources that pushed me towards an unexpected sort of goal for the new year. Via John Green’s tumblr, I stumbled across Woody Guthrie’s ‘New Year’s Rulin’s’ from January 1st, 1943 and was particularly struck by two of his incredible resolutions: ‘Keep Hoping Machine Running’ and ‘Wake Up and Fight.’ On the 7th of January, I re-read the age-old comforting words of Jesus: ‘my power is made perfect in weakness.’ I felt condemned – the good sort of condemned, mind you, the sort that makes you take action – when I read Emily Freeman’s chilling admonition in Grace for the Good Girl: ‘You have trained people to think you have no needs, but you are secretly angry with them for believing you.’

At the movies to see Frozen for my little brother’s birthday, the lyrics of ‘Let It Go’ restated this in a whole new way. While the music soars around her, Elsa sings, ‘The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside / Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows I’ve tried. / Don’t let them in, don’t let them see / Be the good girl you always have to be. / Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know./ Well now they know.’ Later, she shouts, ‘Let it go, let it go / And I’ll rise the break of dawn. / Let it go, let it go / That perfect girl is gone.’ I listened to the words, and I thought, yes.

 I have always thought of myself as an advocate for authenticity. Growing up slightly in the public eye as early-generation homeschoolers in New South Wales, there was a lot of emphasis placed on appearance. People would frequently seek out my family to see what the fuss was about: can people homeschool their kids and have them turn out okay? Even more importantly: can we please have a blueprint for feminine Christian perfection? My sisters and parents and I recognised back then that this hope of cookie-cutter perfection was really unhealthy, and we strove in our own personal ways to fight against that. If it meant being honest about our flaws and the choices we made that might not align to other peoples’ ideas, then we tried to do that. People were frequently disillusioned when they met us. ‘Oh you’re normal and you don’t look like you came out of the pages of Perfect Holy Family Today? How disappointing.’ It was uncomfortable but important to us to be real. And I guess I thought that this was enough to make me into an honest person who didn’t overtly strive to present a certain image.

What 2013 has shown me is that while I told myself I was an advocate for authenticity, what I was really doing was being authentic about some of my life. Without even knowing I was doing it, I was giving people a sterilised version of my reality. ‘Yes, I went through this tough patch and here’s what I learnt.’ ‘Oh, it was a real struggle when this happened.’ ‘Yeah, I’ve wrestled with this, too.’ All past tense, all ‘my mess was back then; today I am okay.’ I wasn’t consciously holding back information; I just had subsconsciously decided that some of the nitty gritty of my life was too toxic for other people to handle. Also, I didn’t want people to know I was so pathetic. I mean, there’s weakness and then there’s weakness, right? If you break your arm, you deserve sympathy, but if a link in your brain is broken, you just need to grow up – or at least, this is how I saw it when applied to myself.

I made my own personal weakness a bad thing, and I made it shameful. What’s more, by assuming that my weakness was the dumb weakness and all other weaknesses were fine, I downplayed my family and friends’ love. In other words, I wasn’t trusting them to keep loving me even though I was being pathetic. Ouch. Weak and kind of a jerk.

What that all means for my 2014 is this: I aim to find peace with my weakness. To be truly honest, this feels weird, particularly since there are weak areas of my life that I know I need to be stronger in – and that’s okay. But if God’s strength is made perfect in weakness, then weakness begins to look less like ineffectiveness and more like opportunity.

I want to hold this in balance, however. Woody Guthrie’s ‘keep the hoping machine running’ and ‘wake up and fight’ remind me not to make weakness my identity. After all, this is just as deluded as making strength my identity. I won’t run to weakness, embrace it, gather more around me. But I won’t be ashamed of it, either. I won’t believe the lie that no one can love me if they see my flaws. I will try not to freak out about the fact that I have just paraded my frailty on the internet for all to see. And I will do my best not to berate myself when I need to take a step away and say, ‘Sorry; I’m not quite strong enough to do that.’

Being able doesn’t make me a better person and being unable doesn’t make me a worse person. It just makes me human.

(This post was written in response to Truth Thursday's #21 theme, All Things New.)

'Genesis', by Bernard Beckett; or: go read this book I should not have liked.

Bernard Beckett's Genesis is a novel that I really should have hated.

For starters, it's a science fiction story set in a dystopian setting, and while I am into the dystopian genre, I'm really not big on sci fi literature. Too much description about how things work or the systems that sustain everything. I get impatient. Show me characters, man! Then there's also the fact that the entire novel covers just a four-hour session in one day of the protagonist's life (which sounds a little boring, when you put it like that) and there are abundant flashbacks, which I loathe because I am an impatient reader and flashbacks tend to halt a narrative in its tracks. Finallly, there's a detached, almost clinical feel to the text. The story of main character Anaximander's entrance exam reads like a court procedural or an official transcript. There are few speech designations or dialogue tags, which should render the text drab and emotionless. But this is far from the case.

In spite of all these perceived 'flaws' which would normally put me off a book, Genesis is a powerful narrative that is both compelling and suspenseful. The back-and-forth dialogue between Anaximander and her examiners hearkens to Greco-Roman conceptions of debate and rhetoric, with the form of the text itself reinforcing the ideas, which can be read as a simple story or in multiple layers of meaning and even allegory. On one level, there is the suspense of whether Anax will convince the examiners she has earnt a place in the Academy; at another level, the rising tension and the debate indicate that there is a deeper story at work, woven amongst discussions couched in philosophy and logic.

What is not said -- and what is not even observed to have been left unsaid -- becomes incredibly important. Sarah Giffney (2011, p.64) described it as a 'metafictional critique of readership,' which is true, but it's also just a fantastic story with some solid surprises. I won't say anymore because I think this book works best with little foreknowledge of the text, but if you do read Genesis, please chat with me about it!

Reading my way through 2014:

This week over at The Broke and the Bookish, Top Ten Tuesday is all about bookish resolutions. I have a post in the works about my history with resolutions and the ones I'm pondering this year, but I'm going to deviate a little to talk about my resolutions specifically to do with books.

I don't tend to make book-centric resolutions, but a couple of years back, I resolved not to buy any secondhand books for a whole year. My library was getting all triffid-like and the worst thing about secondhand books is that you can sometimes pick up five for a dollar. There is no stopping the growth of the book haul when they're so cheap! So for a year I didn't buy any secondhand books (except for this one time my sister expressly invited me to a book sale and I couldn't refuse, on the grounds of social etiquette -- and so my excuse shall remain) and it was actually pretty liberating. For a whole year, I didn't buy secondhand books, which meant that if I wanted to buy anything, it had to be a new book, from an actual bookstore. It was a great year for me in learning to appreciate the humble bookstore, as I'd previously been a thrifted book junkie. New books cost a lot more and therefore the collection grows much more slowly -- which was exactly what I'd needed -- but for the first time in a while I also experienced the joy of reading new releases and keeping a closer watch on publishing news and developments. Not to mention the fact that my dollars went to authors and bookstore owners rather than garage sales and whatnot. It was a great experiment and it's actually changed how I shop for books these days.

This year, my bookish goals (all of them casual, none of them binding) are less about buying books and more about what I actually do with them. Oh, and there's less than ten, but you'll forgive me that, won't you?

• write more reviews; I love love love to talk about books in real life, but my ratio of books read to books written about is woefully unbalanced. This year, I'd like to be more diligent about jotting down my thoughts post-reading, and then sharing them, too.
• write more honest reviews; this one's a bit misleading. It suggests that my reviews thus far haven't been honest. That's really not true at all. However, I do have a tendency to only review books that I like, respect, or enjoyed in some aspect. Whenever I attempt to write more critical reviews, I can't help but consider the fact that the author -- who for good or ill has slaved over the words I might be panning -- may someday stumble across the review. Even if I don't respect the finished product, I respect the work that's gone into it, so it's hard for me to share reviews of books I don't think are great. Here's to bravery!
• read more poetry and biography; the last few years have been very heavy on YA fiction and I'm not complaining because that's my jam. It's what I love to read and write, but I found that by the end of 2013, I was really craving some poetry and biography into the mix. I miss poetry! I miss real peoples' lives set down in words!
• read the numerous e-books I've downloaded; reading for me is like 70% words and 30% the aesthetics of actually holding and interacting with a book. Therefore, I've been slow to jump on the e-book wagon even though I am seriously affectionate towards my iPad. Last year, a book I couldn't afford in hard copy forced me into e-book land so now I know I can actually read an entire book through a screen, I'm determined to get through more of the e-books I have.
• read things way outside my natural choices; university has been fantastic for forcing me to read stuff I might never otherwise pick up, but I complete my Master's midway through the year, so I'll have to keep myself on my toes picking through some great literature I might have otherwise overlooked. It's eye-opening and challenging, and I think we can learn heaps when we read outside our comfort zone.
• participate in more top ten tuesdays; because book memes are the best memes.
• post book-haul pictures; because ditto for pictures. I love seeing others' books and bookshelves, so I assume the same must be true (for at least some of you) in reverse.

So there you go -- my reading goals for 2014. What's on your list?