Madame Bovary

There are several classic novels that I’ve always wanted to read, but, one way or another, they’ve consistently managed to slip through the cracks over the years. After realizing that one or two of the overlooked books that piqued my curiosity were turning up again and again on my ‘To Read’ list, I finally decided to quit procrastinating and curl up with a copy of Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert.

Set in late nineteenth century France, the novel follows the life, adulterous affairs, and subsequent suicide of the heroine, Emma Bovary. Born into a humble farm life, Emma seeks constantly to better her circumstances, ambitiously marrying a widowed doctor from a nearby town. Emma is continually dissatisfied with her life, craving always what she does not possess. When marital peace and motherly contentment elude here, she pursues unrestrained passion (in the form of adultery) and matriarchal freedom (by depositing her daughter with a nanny). But each acquisition of a new fervor invariably leaves her more malcontent and despondent than ever. Additionally, Emma’s conquest for social and materialistic opulence leads to unchecked spending and money borrowing that lands the Bovarys’ deeply in debt. Emma’s doting, moonstruck husband, throughout the novel, remains oblivious to his wife’s affairs, both monetarily and sexually. Finally, unable to cope with yet another fizzled ardor and an insurmountable accumulation of debt, Emma swallows a lethal dose of arsenic and dies.

Though the plotline seems pretty grim, Flaubert’s linguistic artistry arrests the reader’s attention from first to last page. By utilizing language fluctuating between melodic and prosaic and through employment of subtle, almost subliminal, atmospheric tones, Flaubert paints a rich picture of Emma’s perception of the world. The author painstakingly illustrates the insipidity of small-town life in general, but particularly regarding all aspects of life that bore and frustrate Emma. The composition reflects Emma’s restlessness through the tediousness of all the people in her life. Yet, when the heroine’s passion ignites so, too, does the prose. The world has never seemed as awake and teeming with vivaciousness as it does when Emma’s enthusiasms are aroused.

But the charisma of Madame Bovary doesn’t lie solely in Flaubert’s magnificent prose. The novel was notoriously tried as obscene and pornographic literature after its initial release in the late 1800’s. However, the book has retained its place as a canonical classic primarily because of the universality of its themes. Both inherently simple and infinitely complex, the novel’s commentary on the social constraints of women and language’s insufficiency to relate emotion, impel Madame Bovary past the ‘Paperback’ bin onto the ‘Classic Literature’ shelf. Though the novel deals intensely with motifs of flagrant adultery, individual restlessness, and selfish puerility, Flaubert stops short of condemning his characters directly, particularly Emma. He presents them, foibles and all, and lets the reader make up her own mind.

At one time or another, I think many people can relate to the feeling of nameless discontentment that breeds dissatisfaction within a perfectly adequate life. The struggle to define and alleviate this restlessness often disappears after a time or gets pushed aside to make room for more tangible imbroglios. In Emma’s case, her inability to get a hold on these feelings incites her to lascivious, extravagant behavior, and, when that isn’t enough, death. Maybe hers is an extreme version of detachment, but Emma’s ultimate moral lesson, coupled with Flaubert’s ability to mold beauty and instruction out of the deplorable and unsightly, make this novel well worth a visit to the local library.

Self-Discoveries.

I'm a fairly talented "Backward-Speller." A random compulsion when I get really bored.

I've lost my fucking mind.

I Deconstruct everything: One of strange idiosyncrasies of being a member of my family - we destroy the English language for the hell of it.

If I could be onstage every night for the rest of my breathing time, I'd feel gloriously sparkly and secure.

I want to own/run a movie theatre. I have the floor plan & the color scheme. It'll blow yer mind.

Passivity makes me want to die. Particularly passive men. Seems like a character flaw. Make a decision already!

.......This last item is too weird. It'd freak you out, so I'd better just keep this one to myself....... ; )

Fog Stew: Slurping the Cranial Vapor

I used to be fat.

Sounds like the first step. Admitting it.

"Hello. My name is Trina. And I used to be fat."

This time last year I weighed about two hundred pounds. One hundred ninety-six of them, precisely. Fast forward one mammoth year, incalculable heaps of running, and a hefty load of food I didn't eat weighing on my mind, and I sloughed seventy-three pounds. That's down to one twenty-three if you're counting (I know I am).

Seems fairly average, perhaps even a smidgen pudgy by "ordinary people" standards. But it's downright wee by former comparisons. I was stretched to bursting in my fat suit; miserable, but hanging the "You don't like me, well fuck you, I'm happy the way I am" placard on my stoop. But secretly I thought if I could just lose xxx amount of weight, my "inner light would shine through and I could be free to be my 'true self'" and all that shit.

And truly, what a load of shit that has turned out to be.

First of all, it's about the most passively voiced cliche ever lazily composed. Second, it dismisses all the inevitable changes that occur between "Gluttony Guy from Se7en Katrina" and "Looks Pretty Regular, But Svelte by Comparison Trina." Truly, I'm healthier and look better. But a dangerous thing happens when you lose weight exponentially: it becomes addictive. Again, cliche, trite, overused verbiage. But seriously, whatever I do, it's never enough.
"I don't look that good, it's just by comparison that I look normal."
"I look alright, if you think stretch marks and loose skin are attractive."

Women and their distorted self-images. I've gone from not caring what other people think to wondering how I fell into actually paying attention to all the derisive, self-loathing diatribe positively packaged and reconfigured to make women feel like shit about themselves. How did that happen to me? My parents raised me to by a Reasoned Skeptic. This person who thinks she'll look better if she loses five more pounds --that's not me! "What the hell?" I ask.

But the whole carnival mirror perception of myself is, sadly, beans compared to the actual physiological upheaval pillaging my body. Apparently, though I do not have an eating disorder, the affects of losing a large amount of weight in a small span of time are quite similar. Amenorrhea, loss of hair, mood irregularities, all that fun business. My point here is that, I thought losing weight would help me feel infinitely better about myself. I thought it would polish me to shininess, not dull my glow! In the end, I've become restless, moody, dissatisfied, spacey. Before all this, all the "allys" in my life (mentally, physically, sexually, socially) were relatively aligned. I was focused, aware, sharp, motivated. Now, I'm distracted and my mind wanders off on its own... (Oooo, a light bulb...) Mostly, it wanders off toward indifference. For the past several months, I have simply not given one solitary shit. It's frustrating.

I see and hear everything and everyone, but can't seem to process any of it. Nothing sticks. No sensations (except taste). Touch is... No, touch doesn't work, either. Emotions: Irritation and blank. Raging irritation. Or blank. Those are my two modes. I churn idle dribble through my head all day, but can't remember a single thing that floated by. I'm only really happy right after I finish running --but almost no other time. Runner's high and all that.

I'm glad that I have the ability to change, even though I'm not taking appropriate advantage of that particular skill right now. And I know how incredibly blessed I am. Again, I realize this all tastes overwhelming like complaining (which I do waaay to much of) and melodramatic threnodies, but I really only mean to write it all down. Throw it all up. It might be the only way I'll remember what the hell I was thinking when the sun comes back out.

Podunk: An Introduction.

I'm Trina.

Hi.

I love five dollar words. Sesquipedalian. It is both an awesome word and a working description of me. Also I like funny words. Here are a couple of dandies to enjoy until later: labeling anything 'Spooky', creepy peeper, homeskillet, behelmeted, Podunk.

I am a mulit-hat wearer at a tiny television station in a Podunk town in a Podunk county in the land God put on hold while He played horseshoes with Gabriel that first week of things. I guess He got bored with eastern Kentucky. Slapped a couple of hills on the map to serve as a barrier to modern progress, and that's about it. Adam Smith would purse his lips at us and no mistake. But I mostly enjoy my current situation, so I'm still here because I want to be...for the moment, anyway.

My job is complex and undefinable, given, as I already mentioned, the many coverings occupying my head. Officially, I'm the "Accounts Manager & Graphic Artist for the Advertising and Production Division of the Local Cable Company." (That's quite difficult to fit on a business card.) Some of my job duties could be lumped into the "Secretarial / Administrative Assistance" category. My main focus, though, is more on the creative end of things. I do most (and by most, I mean "mostly all") copy writing, editing, advertisement branding, and design for our company and for small-town businesses charting the choppy and challenging waters of cable advertisement.

The biggest part of my job is thankfully also my favorite: single-handedly running the local origination billboard channel that runs about 20 hours every day. Most cable companies have one of these channels in some form or other. I write and design those twenty second advertisements promoting local businesses, events, and 'stuff fer sale.' I hate to be prideful about it (but I'm going to anyway), but the channel has improved dramatically under my tutelage. To exemplify the state of the channel when I started about two years ago, a billboard was run on-air advertising a "Slay Bed Fer Sale" -that is, a sleigh bed. I would not lie about it. I simply would not. Too, there was the "mistickle say-ants" (or mystical seance, as it might be called elsewhere in the English-speaking world). You just can't make up the people and interactions I've experienced since I began my first "real job" here.

Maybe some of ponderous ramblings that leak out of my head into this place will spark something. Diversion? Cachinnation, I hope. Pity probably. Maybe concern for my mental health.

Yeah, probably that one.