Autumn Told Me Bedtime Stories

They are trees. But they are also hard candies: cherry red, bright orange, apple green; round and hard in their shiny tin cases. Brilliant yellow feathers cocked sideways in hat brims. Curving icicles, deep red tinged with frosty pink tips. Dark purple and olive green, gut-wrenching nostalgia. Liquid-fire down slick throats and brick-laden air that pulls you down as you suck in, turning cheeks rose. Silhouetted against a slate gray sky, oil pastel, heavy and dense, a blanket foddling us as we drift, drift, drift... and the leaves, tumbleweeds dancing 'cross cold barren land. The energy falling, dropping dangerously, suspended animation in deep blue oceans. Colorful skirts, swirling whirlwind, sleepwalking to the dark caves of sorcerers, moon full and heavy in the sky, quivering like a drop of water on your lip.

People on Pedestals

Paper Towns is a book about a boy named Q and his infatuation with his neighbor Margo. Q and Margo were friends many years ago but now Q just observes her from a distance. When Margo asks Q to come along one night to prank people in a spree of redemption, and then disappears the next day, Q is sure that she is some kind of goddess and all her acts have noble beginnings. The author, John Green, says he wrote the book specifically to combat what he calls the male gaze, which has been propagated in all romantic literature (see: "It is the East and Juliet is the Sun.") - men looking at women, instantly elevating them to heavenly proportions, and then being disappointed when they realize that they are just human.

The truth is, we are all Q in some sense. We see celebrities on t.v., we read about people in books, newspapers, and magazines, and we have an instant tendency to disproportion them into larger than life characters. We put people on massive pedestals and the great punch line is that we are personally offended when they inevitably don't live up to our expectations. We are naturally disposed to be all or nothing: we either "love" a person or despise them, there is no in between. Why are we so insistent in stuffing all these qualities into a single person and propping them up like mannequins in a show case? I think it is because we see something of ourselves and who we want to be in the future in these people. We need super heroes, someone to stealthily admire from far away, someone to use as a benchmark for all the things we want to fix in our lives. But I also think, all of us are a fine mixture of good and bad. We are all capable of being what we love and what repulses us. What if we became our own super heroes? What if we walked through life picking only the shining ripe cherries, snatching only the glimmering pearls and we put them inside ourselves?  What if we really truly decided to introspect and became our own benchmarks?  It is true that all of us are just human. But don't be misled by the just.