Searching for Identity, Finding Love: The Center of The Hunger Games

This post is take three of my attempt to write just one post about Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy. Here’s the first take, Don’t Be Afraid of Dystopia, and the second, Too Horrible to Look Away.

Well, the first reviews are in and… looks like we have a winner! Looks like we’re actually going to get a good movie when The Hunger Games is released on Friday. Woohoo! And in the meantime, this is a much lighter blog post that will make you laugh: The Embarrassing Side Effects of Having Recently Read “The Hunger Games.”

So now, after I’ve rambled on and on about genre and dystopia, I promise I actually have some thoughts on the books proper, though still general. Like the Potter series, I think these books deserve several levels of reading, and this is just one of them. But I guess you’ll have to decide that on your own.

The central theme of the whole series isn’t exactly veiled, as it pops up again and again at length. Peeta frames it perfectly the night before he and Katniss enter the arena, before the bloodshed begins:

“I don’t know how to say it exactly. Only … I want to die as myself. Does that make any sense?” he asks. I shake my head. How could he die as anyone but himself? “I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not. …

“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to … to show the Capital they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their games,” says Peeta. (Hunger Games, pg 141, 142)

That’s it. The central question is, how do you keep your soul in a world without one? Katniss spends the whole series trying to find a way out of the Games — first Capital-made, then manufactured by District 13 — but keeps getting pulled back in. Peeta has a bit more clarity. He realizes early on, perhaps even on the roof, that he can’t escape. Instead, he decides to carve out an identity that will remain true no matter his circumstances.

Peet’s decision has some parallels to the Christian mantra of “in the world but not of the world,” and I wish every Christian could be so honest in their conviction/confession. That’s what Peeta’s rooftop moment is — equal parts conviction (purposing to play the Game in a manner that’s true to his heart and those he loves) and confession (knowing he’ll commit atrocities anyway because of this no-win scenario). The mucky-muck holds his feet firmly even though he’s a simple baker’s son who we know is more prone to save life than to take it. And yet, Peeta knows he’s capable of almost anything. He’ll be selfish and courageous and self-sacrificing and voracious all at the same time. We could argue that both his and Katniss’s acts of violence are self-defense — neither of them hunt down tributes and only kill in self-defense — but in order to live, they know everyone else has to die. No matter what Peeta’s ideals, he acknowledges that he must also partake in this reality-show world that’s been forced on him. He can’t pull an Amish and separate himself.

Like I said earlier, I love that the series doesn’t give us a black and white world with either/or choices, because that’s not how we live either. The “in the world and not of it” commitment isn’t even a simple paradox; there’s not always a “right” choice and a “wrong” choice for us, but varying degrees of gray. Life and culture simply don’t have a right answer all the time. So what do we do then? Stand immobile? Refuse to budge and move towards higher ground?

I don’t think Hunger Games is advocating some kind of ends-justify-the-means utilitarianism when Peeta joins the Careers in order to protect Katniss. Rather, he’s picking the best course he knows given his circumstances. He’s decided what’s important to him — what his anchor is — and he follows a path that hews as closely to this choice as possible. Certainly, he doesn’t always succeed. And when Katniss figures out her center, neither does she. But Peeta especially manages to hold to this compass, allowing him to keep his identity safe even from the Games of Panem.

I’m still puzzling out why Peeta figures this out so much faster than Katniss, but I think her inability to accept real grace plays into it. It’s a reason Peeta is always one step ahead of her emotionally, making him the more mature person. Katniss is frighteningly independent at the beginning of the series, and the vast majority of all her relationships are transactional. The exception is her protection of and love for Prim, and later Rue as Prim’s representative. Katniss can love those who need her, but she has no idea how to love people who she doesn’t need and who don’t need her.  That’s why she makes such an effort to “contribute enough” in her relationships. For her, relationships are more like business partnerships or alliances than friendships.

Katniss is so busy fighting the powers that be that she fails to see the power plays she abides by in her own life. Her felt need to somehow earn her friends and allies leads her to frequent analysis of who she “owes” for their help. That list includes Haymitch, Thresh, and of course Peeta. Even her friendship with Gale, her best friend with the fewest walls, begins as a partnership and continues because of how good they are at hunting together, e.g. how much each contributes to the relationship. After her father’s death, Katniss has no real examples of unconditional love, and subconsciously plays the power game she hates so much. With this give and take as a basis, Katniss has no real “center” except the survival of herself and those she loves.

That’s why Peeta’s modus operandi throws her for such a loop. Peeta’s anchor, his identity, is caught up in unconditional love for another human being, so much so that he’s willing to die for it. Katniss just doesn’t get that. Even before the real Games begin, she’s playing by who can do what for her and her family. Peeta confronts her with the idea that identity is much deeper than survival. And slowly, Peeta’s example shows her what that means.

I won’t give the series’ ending away, but I think those two themes of identity and unconditional love are the only way to really understand what happens to Katniss, Peeta, Gale, and the other characters in the end. As a hint, the ending isn’t absolutely happy. But it is fulfilling. I choose to think Katniss does understand love as an identity in the end. She has to play the game of “real or not real” for the rest of her life though, choosing what is true and good now over the evils and false world she was forced to live in for so long. Yet she recognizes the choice now, whereas she couldn’t even see it at the series’ beginning. Her emotional growth, stunted by her ordeals and her own flaws, is small but real in the end.

This is a series full of anti-heroes and half-villains, of human beings refusing to see pain because they’re entertained. This is not a safe series, with only Snape’s motives really in question. But when is life safe? The question is whether there’s hope in spite of that. And at the end of Mockingjay, the answer isn’t resounding or triumphant. There’s too much pain to be flippant. But there is hope, delicate and sure. I can relate to that.

Further Reading:
Unlocking ‘The Hunger Games’: The Surface, Moral, Allegorical, and Sublime by John Granger
Excerpt from The Hunger Games: Thanks for the Knife on Slate
The Girl Who Was On Fire by A.T. Ross

Too Horrible to Look Away: Violence in the Hunger Games

This post is take two of my attempt to write just one post about Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games. Here’s the first take: Don’t Be Afraid of Dystopia.

I’m getting closer to discussing the actual book, I swear. But first, since this is a defense of the series and not just a rumination, let’s skip the plot and go straight for the blood and gore. The violence has repulsed a lot of people and persuaded plenty of parents that these books aren’t for their kids. Actually, I went almost a year between reading the first and second book because of how nauseated I was after the 74th Games (tracker jackers, anyone?). Now that I’ve seen the series to its even bloodier conclusion, I’m still repulsed… but now, I think that’s the point.

For starters, let’s draw a distinction between two common portrayals of violence. Let’s brand the first one “horror movie” – not the suspenseful monster-just-outside-the-frame Paranormal movie, but the gory, gruesome, Bloody Valentine horror movie. It’s the kills-for-thrills genre, where the violence is its own end and the whole spectacle. The second type could be called “war movie,” but it’s more narrow than that. It’s the Saving Private Ryan opening scene, or even better, the short World War I poem “Dulce Et Decorum Est” (if you haven’t read this 3 stanza poem before, go read it now. Yes, now. It’s amazing.). It’s the horror of a plunging man drowning in poison gas, and the abrupt recognition of war made imminent.

The difference between these two portrayals goes deeper than a simple dichotomy of entertainment vs. education. It’s easy to justify the war movie portrayal with a simple, “Now children, this really happened, this is your history.” That’s true, but that’s not wholly why we allow these portrayals. We could just as easily educate through textbook description, but we’d miss the visceral identification that comes with violent imagery. The violence visited on individual stories leads to the horrified dawning that life is ending. With that realization comes a weightiness that overshadows any sadistic fascination. It’s the heaviness of realizing this is not a gimmick, but a fact that some people die because of another’s pride and sins. It’s more than education – it’s identification with mortality, a spiritual realization as well as a mental one.

Like I said last week, the presence of evil shouldn’t make us condemn the books prima facie. The violence is one more part of the dystopia, and another critical part of what makes the stories ring true. Katniss experiences the horror of the Games with shocking clarity and perspective, forcing us to see the evil she sees. But does our engagement with her encourage us to revel in it? For me, that’s a tough sell.

So sure, The Hunger Games are violent, no question about it. But every step of the way, Katniss reminds us that these games – the circus put on for the Capital – are a dreadful, dreadful result of humanity gone wrong.

[And now, an alert for SPOILERS AHEAD if you haven't finished the first book in the series. To give you time to look away, here's a picture from the upcoming movie of Katniss volunteering for Prim with Effie Trinket.

Still reading? Okay, you've been warned, and don't say I didn't give you time to look away.]

If you’ve read the books, I’m sure you can think of dozens of examples, but the most obvious and clearest (and most heartbreaking) is the scene in which Rue dies. Collins spends enough time developing the little girl’s character and Katniss’s connection with her that we’re panicked too when Katniss hears the screams. Rue isn’t just a stock character dispatched by the bloody careers – she’s a life cut short. She’s a family member lost. She’s Katniss’s little sister if Prim didn’t have an older sister willing to take her place.

Her death is the emotional fulcrum for the first book, as Katniss finally realizes what Peeta meant about showing the Capital he’s “more than just a piece in their Games.” How do you dignify someone’s death in the face of such cruelty? How do you maintain your own humanity when placed in such an awful situation? But Katniss somehow does just that as she holds Rue’s hand and then rings the little body with flowers. And we, the readers listening to her thoughts, think with all our might, This is not right. This is NOT RIGHT. Rue should not die. But she does. Rue’s life ends because the Capital wills that children should fight to the death for its own entertainment.

Horror movies cannot be tragic.Hunger Games, on the other hand, is a tragic story from beginning to end. Each death pushes Katniss to figure out how she can escape the power plays at work in Panem until she finally does the unthinkable in the third book,Mockingjay. Don’t know what the unthinkable is yet? I won’t spoil it, because it’s worth the read.

Katniss and Peeta escape the first book with their integrity, despite what their ordeal. The violence certainly touches them, but it doesn’t own them. They manage to be in the Games without becoming part of the Games. They aren’t celebrating the violence, and neither do we when we’re finished.

Let’s remember that The Hunger Games series is not children’s literature – it’s labelled Young Adult with good reason. Reader discretion is necessary to see the difference between the violence and the characters who survive the violence. Katniss, Peeta, and Gale go through the fires more than once and will struggle to maintain an untainted identity as they do so. Their development, not the violence, is what moves the story forward.

So does the series’ violence outweigh its merits? Well, to each his own. Maybe you even have a defense of horror movies and are okay with the books on those grounds (did you pick up the hint that I don’t like them?). All I can say is, Dante would sure be in trouble if all graphic depictions were declared anathema. For now, The Hunger Games is happily sitting on my shelf.

Don’t Be Afraid of Dystopia: Defending The Hunger Games

A few month ago, I laid out my apologetic for the Harry Potter series. Well, now I’m back to preach the virtues of another popular series that’s met with some trepidation. I’m not quite so unqualified in my praise this time around, but you know what? I really, really miss talking about pop lit in detail. Perhaps ironically, I think my classically-focused background predisposes me to uncritical enjoyment of whatever literary fad comes my way, with a mulling over afterwards. After all, fiction is supposed to be visceral, not ethereal (if you want thoughtful hypotheticals, go read some philosophy but skip the Aristotle). Anyway, I recently luxuriated through the gore of Hunger Games, and just finished moping about finishing the series. So here I am to present my defense.

Stories work best when they manage to tap into our own stories and histories. So a good author is also a good psychologist, because he understands something basic about the human condition and hits a nerve in the rest of us. Hunger Games doubly tapped that nerve — first, in teens who are forming their sense of self, and second, in the rest of us who always wonder what metal we’re made of. That’s why the sci-fi/dystopian choices in the trilogy resonate, because we all wonder the big “what if.” And Hunger Games happens to be especially good at making us feel the “what if” in addition to thinking it.

And really, a dystopian world rings truer to our experience than a chick flick rom com. No matter how idyllic our childhoods, we all run smack into reality. And we discover that life’s not fair. Circumstances conspire to keep the prince and princess apart no matter how noble their intentions. We’ve encountered The Man, and we feel controlled rather than in charge of our destinies sometimes. In short, we realize just how fallen the world is, and how it affects our perfect little plans. The fairy tale ending is a long ways off, if it’s even possible in this life; dystopia, though not so extreme, is something we understand and feel today.

Portraying dystopia isn’t misplacing the focus on evil/darkness when we should be thinking about goodness/light. Rather, dystopia is merely a setting in which people like us wake up and muddle through. We empathize with the character when their choices are bad and worse, because our lives seem like that too. And we think, maybe, if there’s any way out for these characters in such extreme circumstances, maybe there’s a way out — a better way — for us too.

Because that’s the world we live in, isn’t it? Often neither all black nor all white. Christians recognize this as creation “groaning” for redemption from a broken world, our broken bodies, and our broken spirits (Romans 8:22-25). We’ve encountered people we thought were friends who ending up abusing us, and we’ve encountered help in unexpected places. We meet people doing great work but with selfish motives. And then there are the places so dark we can’t even see the light at first glance. The dichotomy of good guys/bad guys doesn’t work in the world around us, so why should we demand it of our stories? Such a dichotomy rings false.

We need stories where the good guy makes it through unscathed, but we also need stories where the good guy gets beat down and keeps going anyway. Poor Katniss and her friends from District 12 can’t always tell which way is up, or even recognize themselves sometimes. But then, we’re all like that, sometimes. And so we identify with their identity crisis, looking through our own mirror dimly and trying to find what’s important and what we love to anchor us. Identity is where we all stumble, and that’s what Hunger Games is all about.

So here I am, 650 words in, and just finishing my ramblings on genre. Oops. For now, I’ll slap a big TBC on the end of this post, and start working on another post. And I promise this one will actually talk about the books’ contents. Promise. (Guess who feels sheepish?)

Further Reading:
Fresh Hell by Laura Miller, The New Yorker
The Hunger Games, Ethics and Christianity by A.T. Ross

Just Run with It

Ah, the new year. That annual event the flabby masses claim as motivation to “really get in shape this time.” And I include myself in those masses — I didn’t darken the gym door from Thanksgiving until 2012.

I do have some extra motivation to strengthen my body this year though, given that I spent months in chiropractic care last year after throwing out my back. I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed one day, literally, and *poof* couldn’t stand up straight. The good docs have sorted me out, but apparently I’m not a teenager anymore. Wow, did I really just write that? We’re both in decent shape so far as BMI is concerned, but that’s such a small part of true health. My muscles aren’t fine-tuned, my stamina is pitiful, and my nutritional approach often mirrors Bill Cosby’s chocolate-cake-for-breakfast rationale. And then we discovered the documentary Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead, which prompted David to eat kale for what may have been only the second time in his life. We’re ripe for change and hoping for a fruitful year (sorry, couldn’t help myself).

We definitely have “first world problems” with our health. For instance, we have good jobs but they don’t force us to get up and move. We don’t live in a very walkable neighborhood either. Besides the Victorian “turn about the garden,” we’re the first culture in the world to include exercise as a strictly quality-of-life measure. The good news is, at least our first world health issues comes with first world activity options. Like dodgeball. Yep. It’s our flavor of the month.

Our friends P & K recruited us for a 21-and-up dodgeball league and so far it’s been a blast. And it’s great, because every time we start taking ourselves too seriously, we realize we’re playing… dodgeball. Although the guys throw a lot harder than they did in middle school, and my curveball leaves something to be desired. It’s the first “organized sport” I’ve really enjoyed though, and there’s even a bit of strategy to it (the fact that our team ignores this is beside the point). From a health point of view, sure, it’s completely anaerobic, but it gets us moving before we even realize it. So yes, team Occupy Ball Street scores one for health. Even if we can’t actually win a real game (yet).

Step two involves all my siblings, some friends, and one of the best races on the East Coast. David and I have both run the Monument Avenue 10K before, but we’re a bit more intention this year for a few reasons. First of all, we challenged my younger brothers to prove a point. They’re in the “I can do anything because I’m a teenager” stage, but now they have to actually do more than talk about how fast they can run. They have to actually run. Then Joe and Megan signed up too, and we know beyond a shadow of doubt that they will leave us in the dust. Pair that with my pathetic pace, and… yeah. We have motivation.

I’m not sure a marathon is on my bucket list, but I don’t want to abandon the illusion just yet. I’ve been told that only 5% of folks over the age of 30 can run consistently without injury, so if I’m going to do this, I have to make the decision soon. Will I or won’t I? Who knows, but for the first time I have a (tentative) goal beyond this goal. Extra motivation.

Step three… has already run into a wall. We conveniently acquired a yardsale juicer from David’s mom (the woman is a yardsale Jedi; I am but a Padawan) after watching “Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead,” which sent us scurrying off to the salvage grocery store for fruits and veggies. It remains the only time in his life David has come home with a bag full of kale and been excited about it. We tried out beets, carrots, apples, kale, etc. I got adventurous one day and concocted a blueberry and beet juice that looked disturbingly like special effects carnage. And drinking that one required a mind game, as it did not look so happy and friendly as blueberries usually do. See?

I was just starting to enjoy this step when the juicer’s yardsale origins sprung up. Or rather, died. So now we’re trying to decide if a new juicer is worth it, or if it’s just a fad we’re joining.

Are we healthy? Well, maybe comparatively. But here’s to some new goals and a better year.

P.S. Anyone have thoughts to add on the juicer? Is it worth the cost/cleanup time to you?

We’re Back in 3, 2, 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So… is it too late to wish you a merry Christmas? How about a happy new year? How about just a good afternoon? Yeah we’ll go with that. As usual, the amount of potential content we generate has an inverse relationship to the amount of time we have to actually write it out. We had an awesome holiday season, even if we straggled into January trying to catch our breath, and we’re genuinely excited about 2012.

But 2012 is also a bit puzzling to us. Not in a bad way. We’ve been talking lately about how the last few years have been very clearly laid out — I like to say that we saw plenty of closed doors, so we just walked through the only ones that were open. Now, that’s changing. Our paths aren’t so linear and clearly marked with “This you shall do next” signs. The shift started back in July 2011, when I left my old job for a better opportunity. That move helped us develop our sea legs, because this year is just wide open with even more possibility. That’s both exhilarating and a bit startling. But we have our Ebenezer stones to look back on, marking little and big moments of faithfulness. It’s comforting to look over our shoulders and see the evidence.

And we really did have a wonderful holiday season to finish out 2011. We got to attend a beautifully stunning Christmas concert thanks to David’s musician parents and their connections, and my old coworkers even invited me to the annual Christmas party (they still like me!). We saw so many friends at wonderful parties here and in northern Virginia, and the avenging unicorn left our arms for another good home at a white elephant exchange. Oh, and the youth group delighted in greeting us with a “Merry Christ-OUR-LORD-AND-SAVIOR-mas!” every time. Apparently the week we talked about going overboard with our defense of Christmas amused them if nothing else. David hid the pickle ornament on our tree so well that I never found it until we took down all our Christmas tree decorations on Epiphany. And of course, we celebrated other birthdays last month — it just figures that out of our immediate family (and I’m not even counting nieces and nephews here), we have four birthdays plus an anniversary. Good heavens.

We closed out the year with what’s become an annual NYE party filled with goofiness, a good DJ, mixed (and not so mixed) drinks and the traditional singing of Auld Lang Syne during which everyone pretends to remember the words. I made an effort to learn the verses beforehand, but for some reason David kept trying to shush me. Guess he wanted his NYE kiss… yeah, we’ll go with that. I can’t imagine a more apt sign-off to 2011 hanging out with this crowd, who let us hang out with them while they got married, bought houses, and started grand adventures this year. What a joy.

And 2012 is off to a rolicking start. So far we’ve enjoyed the biggest bonfire I’ve ever seen on the Pate Estate, I got to reunite with college friends I hadn’t seen in years for a whole weekend, and David demonstrated that his new shotgun does indeed work against clay pigeons. We’re still pursuing plans for Europe too, though we’re waiting (rather impatiently on my end) to see if the timeframe works for David. And I have another post to write on our athletic (or not so much) pursuits. Bring it on.

Why You Don’t Need Pinterest (A Tale by a Pinterest Addict)

Before I go on, I have to admit a little addiction to Pinterest. More than half my new recipes come from the site, and I’ve even ended up with some DIY projects I’m proud of. But as wonderful as the creative sharing and inspiration is, I’ve realized I don’t need Pinterest in my life. And this realization was overdue.

The curtain escapade got me thinking, because I know I could’ve DIYed something even cooler with the same amount of money (for instance, these stenciled curtains). But honestly, the job just didn’t appeal to me. Doing five sets of two extra tall panels would have been incredibly time consuming and draining, and the logistics of getting ten panels done at the same time was rather hairy. I decided the DIY wasn’t worth the rewards.

And you know what? I found myself feeling guilty for not DIYing. Why?

I think the ever-growing do-it-yourself trend is messing with my mind more than I realized.

Let me be honest. I’ve got a bazillion pins on pinterest (well, 702 as of this writing). Some are pure eye candy that just make me dreamy. Some are inspiration for outfits I wish I had/hope will fit my body type. Some are projects that fall into the “Someday, when I have time, you know, like, after kids…” category (which really means never). Interspersed in this mass of photo imprints are a few inspirational pieces (chalkboard furniture anyone?), recipes (jalapeno poppers!), small projects (pillows!), and awesome style ideas I’ve actually achieved. My boards show my flights of fancy, encouraging me to try new things and not limit myself.

But sometimes, the sum of this reposted creativity leaves me ill-content instead of inspired. My pins represent a lot of time that I just don’t have, and awesome places and things that are still out of reach. In short, I see green grass in the land of DIY and brown in my own.

Ever felt the same way? Betcha have. And so, without ado, I present the five reasons you (and I) don’t need pinterest anymore.

1. Pinterest gives people delusions of grandeur. Pinteresters post some freaking awesome – and freaking HUGE – projects. We fall in love with the ideas that are beyond our current abilities and resources. But if it’s on a DIY blog or pinterest, it must be pretty easily achievable, right? It’s easy to say you’ll “get around to it someday” and use that as an excuse to keep pinning giant projects you have no intention of ever undertaking. We need to remember that the article where we found the project is only the tip of the iceberg. Bloggers and DIY enthusiasts put a lot more time into one post than we realize. Sure, the kitchen makeover might be amazing, but you know what? Even a DIY kitchen is huge, expensive, and draining, even if it is awesome (trust me on this). Know what you’re getting into.

2. Your time is money. Pinterest can be a huge time suck. It eats up our time to actually do something and substitutes endless explorations in the theoretical realm. If you beat that obstacle, consider the time and effort you’ll put into a project. Are you creating something for way cheaper than you can buy it? Creating something that you’ll cherish for years? Then go for it. But beware if you’re undertaking a project vastly bigger than your experience and more costly than the awesome mirror you spied at HomeGoods. If that’s what you have in mind, reconsider. NOW. Your time is limited, just like your money, so don’t spend it all in one place.

3. You don’t need to feel guilty/incompetent/insufficient. This is what happens when delusions of grandeur run smack into reality. It’s what happens when you start thinking, Everybody else makes awesome stuff, why can’t I?! I don’t have time to do that project! Ahhh I feel like a lousy designer/housekeeper/human being! Deep breaths now, it’s okay. You are not failing at life. Not everyone is given the same talents and skill set. We all have different demands on our time. Some of us get a thrill out of creating something new, and some of us could live in a barn and not notice. Sure, anybody can spray paint, but if you don’t like hand-stitching a queen-size baby blanket, why are you feeling guilty about it?

4. The pros are the pros for a reason. Our house was a hot mess when we bought it thanks to previous owners’ shoddy attempts at everything from painting to that awful spindle counter support to a mantelpiece replacement (you can still see the outline of the old one). It was awful. Don’t be like those folks and take on a project bigger than your expertise, enthusiasm, or ability to plan. Hey, even the local DIY gods rely on the pros to take out a wall. The pros bring experience, speed, project cohesiveness and quality skill that the rest of us just can’t gain in a few hours. We had a kitchen consultant help shape our kitchen plans, and we still got into trouble in a few areas where we tried to do it ourselves. The “just do it” attitude can lead to some major bumps.

5. It’s all just stuff in the end. This is key to enjoying Pinterest/DIY projects for what they are. Here’s the thing: the cultural valuation of frugality is WAY up these days, and we’re DIYing a lot more than we did in years past, but we’re still amassing stuff. We still fall into keeping up with the Jonses, only now we make the coveted objects instead of buying them. In the end, everything we emboss and wrap in yarn will disappear. Poof. No more. So why do we let our hearts feel discontented? I wholeheartedly believe that God created people to be creative, but our creativity comes out in so many more ways than we can pin. As basic as that is, I know I’ve sometimes lost sight of it during the years-long project of remodeling a house and even the hours-long project of mounting a huge map on foamcore.

*Deep breath*

Okay, that’s all out of my system now. It’s a little bit of a rant, but it’s a lot a bit true. At least for me. I’m so prone to rushing into a project and not planning well, or looking at my favorite blogs with a mild sense of panic at all they accomplished while I was untangling knots in my yarn.

At the heart of all my little insecurities about Pinterest/DIY culture is the simple sin of believing I’m meant to do it (or have it) all. That’s simply not true.

Beauty for beauty’s sake is easily corrupted and manipulated. Creativity is the same way. That’s why I need to constantly remind myself of what’s important. What’s anchoring me. And it sure isn’t something I made with my hands.

I’m not quitting pinterest (“duh”). But I am laying out my “pinning philosophy” here, so I remember that pinterest is something to encourage me and not demoralize me. It’s simply this: Pin away, dear heart. And at the end of every day, look around you at the people you love and say to yourself, “Wow. I have everything I need, right here. Thanks God.”

It’s Curtains for Us

Lacy, gently wafting curtains. Okay, not really, but it’s not often I can work a Dr. Horrible reference into a post.

We’ve been in the house for more than two years and we finally bought curtains. That’s not for lack of trying. Since we took out the wall separating two of our downstairs rooms, the whole front of the house feels pretty seamless, which is awesome most of the time. But on the curtain front, it meant we needed to put up five sets of the same thing at the same time. Otherwise, we knew the results would feel lopsided and wouldn’t pull the rooms together (and as I understand it, that’s their main decorative purpose). But now…

Curtains! Ikea! Polish! Beauty! Yes, even though I took pictures at night with bad lighting.

Compare to the bare before:

Yes, I’ve grown up to become ridiculously excited about curtains.

Before, we kept finding options that would run us several hundred (gulp!) in a lump sum, even if we made them ourselves. Even 40% off coupons don’t help a lot when you’re dealing with 6 yards per window times 5 windows — at that rate, $10/yard fabric was still running me $180, and we hadn’t even thought about hardware yet. So thank you, Ikea, for giving us a graphic option that keeps things long, bright, airy, and above all, cheap.

We snagged curtains AND hardware for all five windows… for $100. I recognize that still isn’t cheap, and my fun money budget is definitely going on hiatus until January. But still, the little things that make our house feel more pulled together give me a bit more peace — especially when other sections of the house are very “in progress.”

These curtains aren’t necessarily what I dreamed about or what I’d put in my forever home, and that’s absolutely okay with me. They look great for the price, and nothing I can buy or make guarantees a house stuffed with love and joy. So that makes them the perfect curtains for our house.

As an aside, the added brightness is making me rethink a white couch…