Letters on a Rainy Night

So, this is the sequel/counterpart to an older blog post, Letters on a Sunny Day. It's sometimes the way I journal –– a way to commemorate what I'm thankful for, the things that make me smile.

Dear Costellos' scones, you are a tiny taste of heaven.
Dear Daniel Craig, you're the best Bond.
Dear church on the corner of my street, I adore how creepy-looking you are at night.
Dear homemade Thanksgiving stuffing, you make my whole flat smell amazing. I want to bottle your scent –– it is giddy holiday cheer in one whiff.
Dear sissies, it's awful to be without you this time of year.
Dear saxophone, I'm glad you're an instrument.
Dear striped duvet, you smell of clean laundry. Love it.
Dear Autumn leaves, please stop falling. I want you to stay gold and in the trees all through the winter.
Dear iPhone, it's so very nice to have you working again.
Dear Tetley's, you're my favorite beer at the moment.
Dear Elizabeth Bennet, you are fierce.
Dear cozy charity shop jumper, you nearly swallow me, but are the warmest thing ever invented.
Dear squash (the drink), I think I'm actually developing a taste for your fruity sweet goodness.
Dear Katie, I love your room –– it's like a pillow fort!
Dear Cinemas, all I can say is: well done. This season, we've got Les Miserables, The Hobbit, Life of Pi, Perks of Being a Wall Flower, Great Expectations, Anna Karenina, The Great Gatsby . . . a collection of my favorite novels turned to films. What can be better than that?
Dear slow cooker, you're an amazing invention. Brilliantly low maintenance.
Dear Eliot, Pound and Hardy, did your brains hurt from being so smart?
Dear rain, please visit again soon (but please, not on my walk to class). You are soothing when I'm falling asleep.
Dear cheeky knickers, I just like saying that with a smile.
Dear countryside, miss you. Hiking date this weekend?
Dear Brotherton Library, you're very pretty, but inconveniently chilly when studying. I hope you're not offended by this.
Dear freshers, what is the obsession with wearing onesies out on the town?
Dear Jason Segel and Neil Patrick Harris, it's my favorite thing in the world when you sing Les Mis songs together.
Dear strange British sayings, you crack me up (still!).
Dear Phase 10 card game, thanks for the hours of entertainment this weekend.
Dear lavender bouquet on my bookshelf, you brighten up my room.
Dear Dad, thanks for passing along your love of creative cooking.
Dear primary schools, I think it's the most adorable thing that the kids wear little uniforms, with tiny folded white socks and navy blazers.
Dear blanket, I promise I haven't forgotten about you. I will finish crocheting you soon, don't worry.
Dear museums, you're invaluable.
Dear my perfume, you smell of vanilla and coconut and California.
Dear cat who lives outside my flats, lose the attitude so we can be friends.
Dear used book shops, please stop being so seductive!
Dear northerners, I like being called "Luv."
Dear dry shampoo, you've revolutionized my life. Seriously, I'd write a ballad in your honor.
Dear Aragorn and Gandalf, can you please be real?
Dear Cumberland Road, climbing the hill to get home is awful, but the view at the top (especially at night) is particularly lovely.
Dear winter, please bring snow (...and mistletoe, and presents under the tree...)
Dear Bertha-the-turkey, please defrost in my fridge and cooperate for me tomorrow.
Dear Billie Holiday, "Stormy Weathers" is the perfect song for tonight. Thank you.

Exceptionalism

Exceptionalism: "the perception that a country, society, institution, movement, or time period is 'exceptional' (i.e., unusual or extraordinary) in some way."

In my "American Crisis" module (every Monday in a book-lined and slightly-chilly office in the brick English building), the five of us in the class have been talking about America –– obviously. One idea I've seen continually brought up in American Studies research, publications, and teaching is that of America's sense of exceptionalism.  Throughout the years, Americans have constructed a lens, a perspective of our nation's greatness. America is heroic, built on freedom and equality. America is the scrappy nation that pulled itself up from nothing and became a global power. America is different. America is strong. America is founded on all things good. America values individualism, invention, independence. America has no classism, and no issue too big to handle. America is exceptional, out of the ordinary, and wonderful.  I love my country, and think we have been extraordinarily blessed as a nation. However, critical and academic conversation is moving to re-look at America's foundations, to re-evaluate our mythic sense of exceptionalism. In all reality, we were built more on bully imperialism than plucky colonialism, racism more than equality, and violence more than peace and safety. But looking at the negative is what allows for change –– civil rights, suffrage, social reforms.  It's just not fun to see the grit. 

And I was thinking how just like humanity this is. We all want to be unique. To be good at something. To be the superhero. To be special. To do things differently. To make a difference. To be the David, not the Goliath. To be what everyone else wants to be, but better. And that's also the fascination with romantic love, right? The idea that someone who wasn't stuck with you would choose to be –– well, that's intoxicating. But talking about America's misconceptions and the bits we conveniently overlook made me wonder. What lies do I believe about myself? What aren't I seeing that I should be? Am I in denial? What can I do better, and what should I face?  Maybe I'm not that extraordinary. Maybe I'm not at all unique. Maybe it's all just a hype I've used in creating my identity. And that's the gritty thought no one wants to have. 

But then, this weekend at the Christian Union conference, we talked about the Samaritan woman at the well.  She looked for love in all the wrong places. Only Jesus saw her and knew her and loved her.  It made me happy to remember that at least one Person knows me –– not the "me" I want to be, or the "me" I put out into the world, but the raw "me." And He thinks I'm exceptional. He thinks humanity is exceptional. We've each been fingerprinted with different personalities, hair colors, laughs, styles, abilities.  But we don't have to work so hard, put up fronts, live on mythic stories that accentuate our uniqueness and pump up our exceptional qualities. Our weakness is human, and unavoidable. That's unbelievably freeing. You know you're truly loved (by that forever friend, that boy, that family, that God) when you don't have to work to be extraordinary. You just are. 

As the speaker said this weekend, "People have two things in common: we want to be happy, and we want to be loved."  And I am loved, I am known, I am exceptional –– without even trying. That's amazing. 

Best. Holiday. Ever.

Bonfire Night, the 5th of November, is amazing (imagine me saying this in a posh British accent). To give you some insight (not derived from V for Vendetta), it is 4th of July and Halloween in one. I'm going to show my small American understanding of Guy Fawkes day by saying the 5th of November commemorates Guy Fawkes, who tried to blow up Parliament. He failed and was executed, so now the night is celebrated with bonfires (for burning Guy of course) and fireworks (because England is awesome!). I love 4th of July and Halloween for their own magical reasons. Here's what to love about each of these holidays . . . all of which you can find on Bonfire night:

• Favorite bits of Halloween: Candy. Walking around outside in the cold autumn weather, hearing leaves crunch and looking at stars. Bonfires (Watch this clip of "Meet Me in St. Louis" for a glimpse of why Halloween should always have bonfires: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3NFOMHDFzg). Being able to wander the streets late at night. Small children running about being adorable (on Bonfire Night, in small beanies and boots).
• Favorite bits of 4th of July: Fireworks! (of course). Hanging out with friends and family in the park. Feeling wildly patriotic. Sparklers. Good food.

Bonfire Night is full of roasted marshmallows, street fireworks, excited and crowded parks-full of people, and a HUGE bonfire.  Even though it seems gruesome to say so, I'm glad there was a Guy Fawkes. If only because he gave England an eerie, magical, sparkler-filled night.

This was stuck in Sara's (and then my) head all day. Now let it be stuck in yours:
Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot.