The examined life

Since I've turned 28 I've been thinking about my life's accomplishments and getting somewhat worried. Before you even think about typing a cheery comment explaining how I'm "not old" hear me out (while we're talking about things that I'm not, I'd also like to state that marriage has made me fat, and I had to get a size of pants BIGGER than I normally buy the other day, and yeah, it IS marriage because once I tried on my wedding dress and it fit I had nothing to strive for, plus eating popcorn nightly with your new husband is a great way to bond). I don't think I'm old, and what's more, I don't think that age has to have much to do with one's accomplishments, but for whatever reason, being 28 has got me thinking about whether or not I'm working hard enough to achieve certain goals and perhaps more importantly, what those goals are.

Luckily, some higher power heard my self-centered mental ramblings and sent a sample CD of The Teaching Company's "Great Courses" in the mail. I took it with me on my commute this morning, and upon listening to the classical music introduction, realized that these were the very same lectures my brother and father have been raving about. "Cara, you should listen to these philosophical lectures! The speakers are amazing!" or: "Cara, I'm a nerd! I like to take college level classes in my car!"

But I was instantly hooked. The first lecture, an Oxford professor on four philosophical views of "the good life," brought to mind countless hours spent in ollege of Arts and Sciences classrooms at BU, slowly pounding out some kind of meaning in our texts - Hegel, Kant, Aristotle, of course.

The lecture touched on the many dimensions of a good life - an examined and satisfactory life - and in the end the professor came to a typical philosophical point: That there are many necessary components of such a life (you must live an active life, a selfless life, a contemplative life) and that these components may very from individual to individual.

Perhaps at 28 I can tie the youthful idealism I lost some of in the past few years (when I stopped thinking it was ok to discuss vague ideas like "moderation" at random, because, seriously, nobody wants to hear it unless you're all splayed in the grass outside the student union on the first day of spring) with my practical goals and come up with some kind of timeline like this:

28: A magnificent turning point, a true awakening. Work at newspaper. Learn new skills. Kick brother and father's ass at listening to philosophical lectures. Mostly, listen to mom, because who runs a successful company? Mom does.

29-40: Move on. Have thoughtful, curious, well-behaved children. Do great and amazing things. Work hard.

40: Open coffee shop in South Arundel County, MD.

Rest of life: We will see.

This is the post where I alienate Tori Amos fans and drama people

I just looked up Tori Amos online to see how badly beaten I'm going to get for writing the following, and I'm going to get beaten pretty badly. So let me start out by saying how awesome Tori Amos is. According to the internet she is the co-founder of RAINN, a sexual abuse support network, as well as expresses true survivorship in her songs, inspiring many women. Point is, I know that song "Silent All These Years," is about surviving sexual abuse (at least I thought so, but I just stumbled upon a guy with a Tori Amos webpage - that's right, he's got a Tori Amos webpage - that suggests the song is: "...basically wistful, a lament of a probably single mother with a self-indulgent and non-committal boyfriend and a generally unfulfilling life." Whatever, guy. Hey, by the way, can I get arrested for that? Copying and pasting someone's analysis of Tori Amos's "Silent All These Years" into my blog?) but even though I know that, I really hate that song. The subject matter has nothing to do with why I hate it. I'm just not a fan of overdone dramatic music, the kind where you feel like you've got to be weeping a little when you hear it, maybe slowly petting a cat, wrapped in a blanket sitting by a window (except for Van Morrison and U2, who can do whatever the hell they want and it's awesome). I mean, have you ever been driving, windows down, beautiful day, it's the weekend and you are PUMPED, and then something like "Silent All These Years" comes on the radio? That, my friends, is an awful feeling.

But besides all that, there's another reason I hate that song. I'll tell you.

When I was in high school there were kids who did drama, all the plays and whatnot and many of them were good at it, and before you go yelling at me for making fun of them I was in the plays a couple of times too and those kids were awesome. Besides, they're not really my target. The people I'm really talking about were the kids who didn't really do drama - not seriously anyway - but who hung out with all the drama kids and wore flowy clothes and hung out in the student lounge all the time. The student lounge at our high school featured really dirty couches and floors and a couple vending machines. Well, the crux of this meandering story, in which you will discover that it's actually OK that I'm making fun of some people and Tori Amos, at least a little, is that one day I walked into the student lounge to check my mailbox - see if I'd gotten any hot gossip from my buds in the form of carefully folded notes - and that song, "Silent All These Years," was absolutely blasting from the stereo and the drama kids, wearing formless skirts and pants in black, and chains, naturally, were all draped out on the dirty couches and chairs, looking like someone had just died - like, I'm thinking maybe Robert Smith of The Cure or something - and I just stared, and I swear to you, to this day I have not seen such a flagrant display of unnecessary melodrama. I was no Queen of Cool or anything but come on. Don't lie on the dirty couches and act all tortured when "Silent All These Years" is playing. I mean, Jesus, it was private school.