My sisters and I all share the same favorite book, Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises. I suppose that says a lot about the kind of people that we happen to be, but I’ll let you, dear reader, draw those conclusions for yourself. Hollie, the middle of the three sisters, had been trying unsuccessfully for months to encourage us to watch Woody Allen’s new film Midnight in Paris because she said that no self-respecting Hemingway fan could go without having seen it. I finally got around to watching it and oh boy, I should have listened to her sooner.

Because this post has taken so long to write and the Academy Awards have since passed, it’s quite possible that most of you have a fair idea as to the subject of the film, but for those who don’t, I offer a short summary. Midnight in Paris is a seriocomedy about Gil (Owen Wilson), a writer on a pre-wedding trip to Paris with his fiancé Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her family. While walking the streets at night, he finds himself transported to 1920s Paris among his heroes: Ernest Hemingway, Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Cole Porter, and Pablo Picasso. While Gil learns more about the things he values most, his discovery drives him farther from the woman he’s about to marry.

Midnight in Paris is flighty, beautifully filmed, and a delightful modern-day fairy tale. There’s a bit of fantasy, a bit of magic, and plenty of humor, particularly for those who are familiar with the artists whose caricatures appear in the film. If you haven’t yet, or even if you have, grab a bottle of wine, a friend, and a copy of this movie and treat yourself to a night in. You’ll thank me later.

In tangentially related news, if you’re a reader, you’ll really want to check out the winner of the Academy Award for Best Animated Short, a little film called The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore. It too is charming and people who love books are certain to love it.

Dear Students,

Through a series of fortuitous events, I have the great pleasure of teaching another ExCo. As my class list finally settles down, students who intend to drop my class do, and we approach our first real discussion this week, I wanted to take a moment to write a letter—equal parts love letter and list of dos and don’ts—to you, my students.

Let’s start with something I’m sure your professors have told you a thousand times before: what you—and, interestingly, what I—get out of this class is entirely dependent on what you put in. I’ve already put in hours of work preparing this class but I guarantee you that this will be the most boring course you’ve ever taken if you fail to read, fail to discuss, and fail to share what you know. There are some brilliant students at Oberlin from whom I’ve learned a great deal while working here. I want to hear your ideas too, so speak up.

This class is an ExCo. I don’t suffer any delusions that a class on Doctor Who taught in a division whose name labels it “experimental” will be held up as the pinnacle of academic thought, but I do believe that there is so much to learn about human nature by examining the way we write and tell stories. Don’t let an opportunity to learn pass you by, especially when there’s so much freedom for you to direct what we discuss.

That said, I hope for this class to follow in the grand tradition of 17th century salons, as Wikipedia so succinctly says were,”held partly to amuse one another and partly to refine taste and increase their knowledge of the participants through conversation.” I’m fine with it if you bring blankets and pillows to screenings while we discuss the feminist nature (or lack thereof) of the Doctor’s companions. It’s cool if you want to bring snacks to share while we figure out the physics of the operation of the TARDIS. Both discussing the virtues of David Tennant’s face while he’s wearing his “brainy specs” and examining the Tenth Doctor as a Christ figure are equally welcome.

If you’re inspired to do so, please approach me if you’d like to do something extraordinary. Want to submit your midterm paper for consideration to be published in an anthology on Doctor Who and religion? Want to show a marathon of Doctor Who episodes to more people on campus and get them talking about the issues involved? Interested in teaching this class next year? Think it’d be really cool to bake 500 cupcakes shaped like Daleks? Let’s do it! It’ll likely be fun, will give you a little something extra to add to that résumé or to mention in an interview, and I promise to write you a killer recommendation letter if you need it.

And finally, if you like what you learn in this class, if you feel challenged, if you feel enlightened, tell me. Or, conversely, if you feel the opposite, tell me that too. I’m on email all day, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and here at this blog. Reach out anonymously if you’d like. I teach because I love to do it, not because I’m getting paid and I respect your feedback.

Allons-y!
Jacquelynn

The new icon you see in the header is a variation of the one that appears on my MOO calling cards.

Front (top) and Back (bottom) of my mini calling cards printed by MOO

I wanted something a bit more sophisticated and in line with my personal style for my blog, so I’m testing out this one. This version, unlike the one on my calling cards, is set in Eric Gill’s Perpetua. I’ve got a series of this icon in several colors and may swap it out from time to time in various social media locations. (Also, to the graphic designers out there, please excuse the kerning on those cards. For some reason I don’t have a digital version of the final product; the one pictured is an early draft.)

What do you think? Does this better reflect me than did the chartreuse and aqua?

I’ve been going to yoga for about a month now, roughly two times a week. I’m not losing massive amounts of weight or anything drastic, but I can feel myself getting stronger. It’s true what they say about yoga poses never changing but your relationship to them evolving. Each time I do a pose I can feel how it’s different from the last time. Sometimes I’m not noticeably better and sometimes I’m worlds better.

One of my very favorite poses lately has been the Baddha Virabhadrasana, called in English the Bound Warrior or Humble Warrior. It’s a great stretch for your hips just like in other warrior poses but also adds a nice chest and shoulder stretch to the mix. For those unfamiliar with the pose, it looks like this:

Humble Warrior demonstrated by Leigh Ferrara

In this pose your feet are pretty much standard Warrior I but your chest is bent forward and, as my yoga instructor says, the crown of your head would be the first bit to hit the ground were you to fall forward. It’s probably unsurprising to people who know me that I’m drawn to lower-key, more submissive poses like this one. I find that in Humble Warrior it is much easier to keep my focus on my own practice instead of comparing myself to others in the class, something I have a terrible tendency to do. Warrior I and II just seem to ask for comparisons whereas this one is just me and the floor.

It’s no secret that I think highly of traditional manners and neither is it one that most Americans probably think they’re outdated. We could quibble over which ones continue to be relevant but I absolutely will not budge on the subject of sending handwritten thank-you notes. My hero Emily Post writes, in her 1922 landmark book Etiquette, on the subject of letters:

THE ART of general letter-writing in the present day is shrinking until the letter threatens to become a telegram, a telephone message, a post-card.

It may be, too, that in other days the average writing was no better than the average of to-day. … The difference though, between letter-writers of the past and of the present, is that in other days they all tried to write, and to express themselves the very best they knew how—to-day people don’t care a bit whether they write well or ill. Mental effort is one thing that the younger generation of the “smart world” seems to consider it unreasonable to ask—and just as it is the fashion to let their spines droop until they suggest nothing so much as Tenniel’s drawing in Alice in Wonderland of the caterpillar sitting on the toad-stool—so do they let their mental faculties relax, slump and atrophy.

To such as these, to whom effort is an insurmountable task, it might be just as well to say frankly: If you have a mind that is entirely bromidic, if you are lacking in humor, all power of observation, and facility for expression, you had best join the ever-growing class of people who frankly confess, “I can’t write letters to save my life!” and confine your literary efforts to picture post-cards with the engaging captions “X is my room,” or “Beautiful weather, wish you were here.”

While I think that most of her words, particularly the parts about letters shrinking to the size of text messages or DMs, have continued relevance today, I hesitate to suggest that you throw in the towel if you believe you are among those who cannot write letters. To save you the time of reading Emily Post yourself, although I wholeheartedly encourage you to do so because she is one funny lady, I’m going to share with you the basic rules of thank-you letter writing so that you have a template to use for any occasion.

Before you begin writing, be sure to choose a nice sheet of paper or note card, not some crumpled computer paper you have at the back of your desk, and find a blue or black pen. A serious thank-you note is no place for an aqua-colored gel pen.

Start with a greeting.
“Dear” is not stuffy, it’s a proper salutation. If it really ruffles your feathers, you could also write, “Hello.”

Thank the giver for the gift.
This is your chance to acknowledge what was given. “Thank you for the (adjective here such as lovely, pretty, sparkly, green) earrings.” If the gift was monetary, never directly reference the dollar amount, bucks, or Benjamins. Rather, choose a tactful way to refer to the gift such as, “Thank you for your generosity.”

Say what you’ll do with the gift.
People like to know their gift will be put to good use. “I’m going to an office party on Friday and the earrings will perfectly match my dress.” Don’t lie. If you aren’t going to use the item because the earrings are actually hideous, you might expand on your description of them and highlight something you do like about them such as, “I really enjoy silver jewelry.”

Address your relationship to the giver.
“It was so nice to see you at Christmas and I look forward to our Fourth of July barbecue this summer.” Let the person know how nice it was to see them at the event during which you received the gift if the exchange happened in person. If not, it may be appropriate to say that you hope to see the giver soon. Make the person feel appreciated and not just for their money.

Say thank you. Again.
Close your letter with a simple line of thanks. “Thank you again for your gift. It is most appreciated.” This is, after all, the whole point.

Close.
Choose a standard closing such as “Sincerely,” or “Love,” and sign your name.

That’s it. It’s simple, gives you total credibility as a responsible, mature adult, and plus, people are much more likely to give you nice things if you’re grateful to receive them.