To Be a Human Being Among Human Beings

Several updates for my friends and family (unless I'm mistaken about the readership of this blog, mostly just family):

Pain In My Butt
I got some stitches out from my pilonidal cyst surgery. Not all of them. Just the sutures that were holding a giant wad of gauze to the wound. I thought all of them were coming out, but I'm supposed to keep the little stitches from the surgery on for another week and a half. Unfortunately, my surgeon is going to be out all next week, so I have to have my stitches on for an additional half a week (apparently this is not something a nurse can do because he must see me). They're coming off on the 21st. My birthday. Yay. I found myself vaguely annoyed, as if whatever my doctor is doing next week could not possibly be more important than having my stitches out sooner, but then I felt selfish. Things are looking up, though. I can lay on my back with only some discomfort, and I can sit with my shiny new Tush Cush. Also, I'm glad this procedure was around the tailbone. I can talk to a casual acquaintance at work about surgery on my tailbone, but there is no non-awkward way to talk about butt surgery.

Southern Gothic
As a brief interlude between two behemoth-sized novels, I read some Flannery O'Connor short stories. Previously, I'd only read "A Good Man is Hard to Find" and thoroughly enjoyed it. Of the ones I read, "The River" is a clear favorite. Like all of her stories, it involves damaged (physically or mentally) characters in search of some type of salvation and a downbeat ending. This one is about a neglected boy whose babysitter exposes him for the first time to Christianity in the form of a traveling preacher who stands in a river healing people. While I could certainly relate to the whole small-town religion aspect, what really stood out in "The River" is the humor. O'Connor's stories are often filled with little snippets of dark humor, but this one made me laugh out loud several times. The young boy protagonist is startled that real pigs don't look like Porky Pig, assumes that religious people are swearing when saying "Jesus Christ" because it's the only context in which he's heard it used, and asks the preacher to cure his mother of her hangover. Hilarious.

My First Trip to Russia(n Literature)
I've decided to finally see what all of the hoopla is about Russian literature. After being recommended it by many people, I've started with the classic Brothers Karamazov. So far, I'm in love. I'm not sure what it is about Dostoevsky's prose and his characters that I already find so inviting after only fifty pages. I think it largely has to do with the almost conversational tone of the narrator. Whatever it is, the book has me hooked, even after pages upon pages of philosophical musings about whether or not religion should completely take over the governments of the world. Very interesting stuff. One section I found particularly appealing was in the introduction. In the introduction to my edition, Richard Pevear includes an excerpt from a letter Dostoevsky wrote to his brother after narrowly escaping execution (he luckily got away with exile to Siberia. Crazy Russians...). Dostoevsky writes about his new outlook on life after this near-death experience: "Life everywhere is life, life is in ourselves and not in the external. There will be people near me, and to be a human being among human beings, and remain one forever, no matter what misfortunes befall, not to become depressed, not to falter- this is what life is, herein lies the task." Inspiring words that I can totally connect to, especially as someone whose mood is soured because his doctor is taking a vacation and he has to put up with stitches for a couple of extra days. It's not like I'm facing exile or anything. Things could be worse. His words pretty much sum up how I feel about staying positive when the everyday gets me down. Reading this book makes me excited about the Russian Festival happening with the SLSO next season. жизнь хороша!