OCD, The Dude, and Me
Page 12
Anyway, Daniel and I talked like Maude Lebowski for hours after that movie. I have the affected accent pretty much down. “The story’s ludicrous” is now one of my favorite things to say because, not only does it apply to the plot lines of porno films, which is what Maude was referring to when she said it, but “The story’s ludicrous” might as well be the bumper sticker on the vehicle that is my life given that I was moo’d at publicly. Daniel had gone to Lebowski Fest a few years ago and said we had to go this year because there was one near us. Okay, Dude, I’m in!
It’s held at a bowling alley and you dress up as characters from the movie, and Daniel said everyone is incredibly creative in their choices. We’d have to rewatch the movie and look for über-subtle details in order to come up with a costume because that is what some people do, and it’s fun to try to guess what people are. (He said the more obvious ones are fun, too, but we are clearly the nuanced, obscure types.) If truth be told, I’m looking for any events or distractions to keep my mind off graduating from high school and going on to more school where I’ll continue to feel like a freak. (At least at Lebowski Fest everyone is a freak.)
Daniel and I have been talking about college a lot. I got in to three of the six schools that I applied to. I think my mom is more excited than I am about my college options because she’s been reading about them online constantly and creating lengthy, color-coded pros and cons lists. Every time I talk to her about it, I just end up confused over her color-coding, which she tells me is not “the salient point” from her notes.
Daniel applied to the California universities like I did because his parents made him, and he didn’t have to write an essay or send a teacher recommendation, which he said wouldn’t help his chances. He was thinking of applying to some private Catholic schools because of his weird fetish for Catholicism, and while Sal appreciated his devotion (little did he know), he said they were too expensive. At any rate, we have to decide on schools soon because we have to send in our deposits. However, figuring out how to go to Lebowski Fest sounds more fun at the moment.
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 4/24
Dear Super-Hip, Way Cool Aunt Joyce,
I really need you to watch The Big Lebowski, think it is one of the best movies ever, and then want to take Daniel and me to Lebowski Fest. I’ll explain the thing to you after you watch the movie and make my dream come true! (I’m sure we need someone over twenty-one to take us. You just barely fit that bill, LOL.)
Your niece who loves you sooooooooooo much,
Danielle
*AUNT JOYCE E-MAIL* 4/24
E-mail back from Aunt Joyce just seconds later
Well, lady, I’ll watch the movie, research Lebowski Fest, and then let you know.
A.J.
*JUSTINE LETTER*
Letter to Justine
Dear Justine,
Thank you for writing me. I hope you don’t mind that I shared your letter with my friend Daniel, who I think is my best friend, and you are the first person I’m telling.
How am I filling my days, you asked? Well, right now I’m trying to get over a boy I once really liked but who acted like a real jerk to me on several occasions, actually. And I’m also being forced to think about college and where I will go. My friend Daniel and I are going to talk about it and try to come up with a plan. I never spent much time thinking beyond high school because dealing with high school was hard enough, and there were some bad things that happened before high school that made thinking about the future kind of an incidental idea. I don’t know if that makes sense. My life is kind of complicated, I guess. So, anyway, I guess I’m busy with thoughts.
I am also sometimes busy with hanging out with Daniel or with going to yoga with my mom or doing other family things. (I have a really cool aunt, and if I could grow up and be remotely like her, I’d be thrilled. I would also be thrilled to be like you, too.)
I like my yoga class. I’m trying to lose a little weight. The teacher says some really smart things, which reminds me that I saw some quotes you had written and put on your refrigerator. One said, “Close both eyes to see with the other. ~Rumi.” Did your husband write that? Is “Rumi” Bubbles’s real name? He was smart. Anyway, I hope you are doing great. I sure like knowing you.
Love,
Danielle
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 4/27
Essay that answers this prompt: Pick a work of literature we’ve read this year and a movie you’ve seen and discuss their mythic/symbolic messages.
(I loved this assignment! Ms. Harrison made up for pairing me with Keira and Jacob; all is not lost! I spent a lot of time writing this essay—with Daniel, admittedly—but I thought what we wrote rocked. Ms. Harrison only thought it rocked a B because I used the word screwed, was too informal in places, used personal pronouns, had too many parentheticals, didn’t cite my quotes properly, and “summarized” where I should have “analyzed” the movie. Really and truly, sometimes teachers have no give. They are so damned rigid in what they want in their essays. If she just read this thing as a person and not as a teacher, she might have gotten it and not let her “thinking get too uptight” LOL.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
My favorite works of literature have mythic structures. The hero (tragic or otherwise) appears, is confronted with a problem, gets lost, and eventually finds his way home or to some symbol of home. There are specific lessons in myths, revealed through symbols that can carry us through our lives. Their messages are universal.
King Lear is one of these stories. In King Lear, a hapless king divides his kingdom amid three daughters. Two shower him with the words of praise he seeks, while his third is unable to “heave her heart into her mouth.” She is only able to love the king simply, as her bond requires, “no more, no less.” Wooed by the flattering words of the eldest two, the king divides his kingdom between them and leaves the youngest nothing. (Poor Cordelia.) He is ultimately undone by this choice. He would have done better to see the truth in the simple, honest feelings of his youngest.
The three daughters symbolize the things we create in the world and that we find meaning through. Sometimes it is too easy to think we will find meaning and purpose in the choices that are flashy or flattering or shiny like gold. (Like really cute boys.) But those things lose their luster, so it is best not to invest in them. They do not possess a lasting value. In Lear’s case, he actually gets royally screwed by them! (Pun totally intended.)
A kingdom is a metaphor for one’s soul, the Self. We end up disappointed if we divide up our kingdom to false daughters. Sometimes, what is real, true, and meaningful is smaller, gentler, and quieter than we think. (Sometimes it is a new friend who is better than the other kind of love you thought you wanted.) It is no easy task to figure out when and how to divide your kingdom wisely, how to give of yourself (let the spigots loose) or how to not give of yourself. (Sometimes yourself just seems to leak out all over the place.) This is the daunting task of every person, and I am trying to find all the grace and the foresight to choose well, so I find myself with a thriving queendom (my own new vocabulary word). I have not always chosen well by any means.
Another example of a mythic story is from the world of movies: The Big Lebowski. If you haven’t seen it, do so. If you have, watch it again. It gets better with repeat viewings (just like Shakespeare).
The Big Lebowski is a very good comedic film, but it is also another mythic story whose lessons are important. In it, our laid-back, unlikely hero, The Dude, is thrust into a situation of mistaken identity and chaos ensues. Occasionally throughout the story, The Dude becomes lost and unhinged—he becomes impatient and worried, not usual traits of his. To quote a supporting character, he starts “being very undude.” It happens to the best of us, I’m learning. (King Lear becomes very undude during and after he abdicates power.) Eventually realizing that his own “thinking has become very uptight,” The Dude soon eases back into his calm, cleve
r self, and situations begin to work themselves out for our hero. Ultimately, His Dudeness tells us that “The Dude abides.” Gosh, but I really, really needed that bit of wisdom.
To abide means to wait for, to stand ready for, to stand up under, to endure, to withstand. And because The Dude abides, for the most part, the truth comes to light and the chaos dissipates. King Lear did not abide and look what happened there. As The Dude says, “That’s a bummer, man.” No matter what life you choose, no matter where you divide your kingdom, you will have to abide many things. And you will hardly be able to avoid the ridiculous. Someone might even moo in your face one day. And you’ll have to figure out how to handle that.
To abide is to take a stance of grace and power. It says to the universe that you recognize that all is not certain, that things constantly change, but that you are willing to participate and stay true to your own character and its evolution; and that you recognize you are smart enough and strong enough to do just that at the proper moment in time. Well, I think that is true of the idea of abiding, but it’s a new concept to me, so you can let me know if I’m wrong.
All in all, we should go out and spread our kingdoms, our wealth of character, regardless of praise or compliment, or if we are moo’d at, and then do our best to abide what comes because heroes need to travel and have experiences in order to come home again as renewed men (or women).
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 4/28
(I noticed I have stopped numbering and for some reason am not nervous about that.)
Because Lisa says we should write down our dreams
Because maybe we’ll figure something out from them
Last night I dreamed I was a turbid pool of water. I was aware that my boundaries were no longer human; that I didn’t have the shape or movement of a human being, but I did have its consciousness. As this muddied pool of water, I was ashamed of my dirtiness. I knew that there were other bodies of water more magnificent and clear and clean. But I was what I was. I moved along a mossy bank and traveled effortlessly forward. At one point far along in my travels, I hit a massive mountain of rock. In my clouded state, I crashed against the jagged rocks and felt dizzy. Jostled, churning, and wild, my natural movement was deterred. For what felt like eternity, I slammed up against the rock. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. I couldn’t fight the force of such a solid mass. I thought, well, here I come to stay. Here I must, like Sisyphus, repeat a scenario of endless torture. I couldn’t or didn’t cry or scream; I had all the properties of water. At one point, even though I thought I was thoroughly trapped, a part of me seeped into minute crevices in the rock bit by bit. This took forever. Droplet by droplet, hour by hour, I moved all of me into the mountainous rock and onto the other side. Slowly, my consciousness as water found itself in a crisp, clean glacial pool. It was huge. My muddiness was no match for the pristine waters in which I now found myself. I was no longer clouded. What I was had changed. I sensed myself amid this new atmosphere. I was cooler, smoother and more slow moving, but I was still moving. The bank I moved along was more solid, a calmer ride. Eventually, I hit an area thick with trees. We, I sensed myself as that, we, moved together under the earth where the trees were growing. I drenched the roots and slid along all the life below the surface. I would keep going, even though I didn’t know where.
*JUSTINE LETTER*
Danielle,
Ah, Bubbles will forever be known as Bubbles to me. That quote, the one you read on my refrigerator, was by the poet Rumi, a true visionary from the thirteenth century. In this letter, I’d like to answer you with my favorite Rumi poem. He says all I would say to you, but he says it better. I hope you enjoy it.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
Some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
Who violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture,
Still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
For some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
Meet them at the door laughing,
And invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
Because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond.
Rumi by way of Justine
*ME-MOIR JOURNAL* 5/4
Immediately following Justine’s letter, which I showed to Daniel and he loved it, too
Justine is proof that old people know things. I read that poem twenty times already. I think it might be my new obsession. I taped it on my bathroom mirror and am going to read it every day before school and hope that I can come to honor the mean houseguest that is Jacob (and, unfortunately, others). I wish I hadn’t invited Jacob in, but I did. I guess Rumi would have told me I gotta try to honor him now. Deep breath. I’m gonna try. Rumi said those words a long time ago. That lets me know there were douchebags then, too. It has to be or he wouldn’t have written that rockin’ poem.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 5/5
Expanded Quote Essay
(Ms. Harrison is not happy with me. I turn this essay in and I really like it. I thought I followed all the rules of the assignment—outside source, parenthetical documentation etc.—but she was VERY frustrated with me and my writing style, which she said is not appropriate for these types of essays. I have to stay in at lunch for a week and rewrite the thing according to her sterile rules. I am not happy with how the second draft is going so I won’t be keeping it in my collection.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
The quote from a piece of literature we read this year that I decided to use as a jumping off point for this essay is “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” (Hamlet, Act I, scene v, lines 187–188) Such an idea has basically been reflected in my entire life, but my father gave me some information the other night that really hit that idea home for me in a richer way.
My father told me about this guy Paul Pearsall who wrote a book in 1988 called The Heart’s Code. (My dad has read some amazing things.) Anyway, in this book, this girl gets a heart transplant from another girl who had been murdered, and the girl who gets the heart wakes up and screams in the middle of the night after having nightmares where she recognizes the man who murdered the girl who gave her the heart. Shut up! That is incredible. Who would have ever thought something like that could happen? That is what Hamlet is talking to Horatio about.
Another guy in the book got a heart transplant and then started using the word copacetic all the time when he had never used it before. Turns out, the guy he got his heart from used that word all the time!!!! (I have to use a bunch of exclamation points here to make it clear just how amazing I think this is.) (Pearsall, 1988, pp. 7–8) Also, it is very ironic, the use of the word copacetic, because my friend Daniel taught me that word recently.
The implications of this kind of thing are incredible. First of all, things get stored in our bodies not just our minds. That made me rethink everything about what we know about consciousness. We understand so very little. We run around thinking we have things figured out, that we have control over things, and we don’t even know that who we are lives everywhere in us. This was a real revelation to me because I’ve been heartbroken. (I don’t want to go into the details of that with you, Ms. Harrison. Let the record just show that it’s true.) I thought my heart had been obliterated, and I was sort of looking forward to going numb. But that didn’t fully happen for me, and I think it’s because all my heart wasn’t just kept in my heart. It’s in other places in me, too. I’d have to probably cut off all my limbs, poke out my eyes and maybe disembowel myself to get rid of the hurt. I am going to come up with another plan for dealing w
ith my pain.
We don’t understand how our bodies work, how we think, or why we are even here. If those questions are unanswerable, I realize there are so many more that are, too. But we pretend like things are figurable (I know that’s not a word but please let me use it because it’s perfect here). Remnants of feeling must be in all the cells.
We are much bigger and more complicated than I thought. That’s what I really wanted to say in this essay. That’s the crux of what Hamlet tells Horatio. It’s something we should all embrace. I’m trying to, but I get stuck in smallness and worry and pain. I hope I can house other things in places in my body besides those negative ideas. I hope magic, peace, and laughter get stowed away in me, and if anyone ever gets a piece of me from a transplant, they can benefit, too. I hope that is my legacy even if I don’t fully understand how it may come to be.
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from Marv to me
How are things, Danielle?
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from me to Marv
Do you think everyone has a Sisyphean rock they shove up a hill day after day?
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from Marv to me
Danielle, I think we all do at some point in our lives. I think we push that thing up every single day until we get tired of it and we stop.
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from me to Marv
Okay. Thanks, Marv.
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter from Marv to me
You don’t have to push the thing alone forever either.