Blog of Billy

This, with an average of three interpersonal crises per night, continues as the single most drama-filled November on record.

Last night, I caught the last few minutes of The Wizard of Oz on TV down in Norman-town. I had forgotten how many good little lessons exist in the latter bits of that movie: our "always already" worthy, caring, intelligent, and courageous selves; the greatest adventures of life happening in our own backyards; and the ultimate failure of technology to accomplish what magic can. I'm reminded of "Grandma" Lana's office at her house, filled with Oz and Oz-associated memorabilia. I should wander through there again.

Does every womun think that Glinda was some sort of perfect example of feminine beauty? This seems objectively wrong to me, but is a belief shared by both my mother and at least one member of the younger generation.

The Wicked Witch of the West is only powerful inasmuch as we believe that she is powerful. For all the terrible things that she says to Dorothy, the Witch's power is only effective when coupled with Dorothy's capacity to believe that what the Witch says is true (also through flying monkeys, but that's not germane to the point). Thus, if Dorothy is capable of believing that the Witch has far less ability to constitute her identity than she herself does, she is able to overcome the Witch's fearful and deprecating tactics, and melt her. People need to learn this. Bullies, and those others that comment obnoxiously, are ultimately powerless unless we are willing to believe them. That doesn't absolve responsibility not to try to convince people that they are anything but unique and positive additions to the world, but it does remove the ability to blame the world at large for denying one any chance at all to have self esteem. It also creates a responsibility not to respond with the same kind of juvenile behavior, as that is simply abjuring the moral high ground that gives you a foundation for disbelieving the Witch to begin with, along with giving credence to the notion that wickedness is an appropriate way to play the game. The Witch is not so powerful that you should just lie down in the poppy field and give up on ever seeing Aunt Em and Uncle Henry again, or try to use black magic to posit yourself as an even more wicked kind of witch.

The magical powers of ice cream to make the world just a little better are matched only by silver or ruby shoes. Egg nog ice cream is here! I'm feeling more Christmas-y already. All I need now is to go on a nog run with Blake and/or Heather.

Bare-knuckle boxing with Patrick late at night has left me sore like I'm bruised, but with none of the discoloration.

I need to return Mike's call, but I'm trying to wait until I have "substantial time" that I can devote to answering whatever questions he was referencing in his voicemail.

Dinner tonight! Let the drama continue!

"Why, as for that," answered Oz, "I think you are wrong to want a heart. It makes most people unhappy. If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart."
"That must be a matter of opinion," said the Tin Woodman. "For my part, I will bear all the unhappiness without a murmur, if you will give me the heart."