More Halloween musings, and a religious pamphlet I approve of!

Last night was Halloween. In case my rambling passage from yesterday passed you by. I'm not sure what exactly I was trying to say - obviously. But I was tired and annoyed at the day in general by the time I wrote it and wasn't thinking clearly enough to write anything worth reading. Still, I think there's a little nugget of truth in there somewhere if you dig for it.

Anyway, here I am, shamefully, at work the day after Halloween. I absolutely love Halloween and I wanted to be out till dawn last night, rocking out my fabulous Jessica Rabbit costume (still haven't come across a decent Maleficent costume I could afford... sigh...), then come in here today hung over enough to show what a blowout night I had. But alas, I was thwarted in my attempts at being ultra-NYC-party-fab-cool. By my shoes. As always. I don't know why I always seem to think I can get away with wearing ridiculous cheap shoes - they always kill me.
We stood out at the parade for an hour and a half, waiting for the Project Bueller ((http://projectbueller.tumblr.com/) float to go by, and by the time it passed and we had run after it, singing "Twist and Shout" and reveling in the fun, my feet were so sore that I had to hold on to Connor's arm to walk. So we ended up, rather than floating from bar to bar on the wings of our awesome costumed-ness, sitting barefoot on our friend's couch in Stuyvesant Town. Not that the party was lame or anything - it was actually a pretty great soiree- but I was definitely shut down by my shoes. Didn't want to go anywhere.

Why do I, and other women, keep doing this? Sure, my legs looked good in the 6-inch heels, and sure, they complimented my costume, but for God's sake, why did I think I would be ok to walk around in them all night without my body rebelling against the completely unnatural position into which they forced my body, and the loss of blood circulation they inflicted upon my toes? Why did I think a pair of $10 shoes from Danice in the Bronx would carry me around effectively all night? For that matter, why do we think the ridiculous shoes we buy, regardless of price, are ever a good idea? They are sometiems just as bad to our bodies and comfort level as foot binding was to Chinese women. They have become an implement of female torture in Western society, put into a positive light by the fact that they turn men on, and make women look oh so good. Popularized for women by Catherine de' Medici in the 1530's to increase stature and make one look fashionable, high heels have become a symbol of sex appeal in modern culture. Not only do they reek of sex, but women seem to have turned the logic of trying to attract men around, making the ability to walk confidently in stilletos and other crazy heels a matter of self-confidence and strength. Every day in midtown I see women walking around in five-inche stilleto boots and pant-suits; high-powered business women totter around in less-than-pencil-thin pumps, feeling fabulous because they think/know they look good and they can totally 'handle it.' And by 'it,' of course, I mean discomfort, difficulty balancing, and being forced to walk more slowly than normal in order to pay attention to where they place their feet. WHY?

The funny thing is - I'm ranting on and on about this, and I don't have an answer. Nor am I going to stop wearing heels. To be honest, I don't wear them nearly as often as many women, especially here in NYC, but I do have several pairs of 3-5 inch heels ranging from platform chunky versions to stilleto boots that I have to veer around subway grates and holes in the sidewalk in. And I will continue to wear them because... well... they make me feel awesome and sexy.
What can I do?


Also:
On my way into the subway this morning I was handed a religious pamphlet. Knowing I'd have a while to wait on the platform, I took one, thinking it would be a good laugh. But it was, surprisingly, well-written. And, bizarre-o faith language and fallacy-laden logic aside, it actually made some pretty good sense. It was about how salvation isn't a sure thing, and how even those who have been born again and who are very "good" practicing Christians must keep their eyes open and work at it to be sure they've been assured salvation. I don't really pretend to understand all the finer points of the reasoning in there, or the Scripture, or what have you, but I found no bad grammar, no misused punctuation, no nonsense sentences, no badly used words... In short, it was well written and appeared to have been edited by someone who knew what he or she was doing. There were a few standout sudden changes in point of view, but beyond that it was impeccably put to paper. I was cheered.

I am by no means a Christian, but I have no ill will toward the religion. It works well for some people, and like most other religions I think it's just one way of looking and experiencing the Great Mystery we all seek. And it's not a bad way to go. If you want, you can be an emotional Christian who falls down on your knees in passion and praises your God, or you can be an intellectual, ephemeral, philosophical Christian who uses very important and well-laid out theological texts for study and contemplation, or you can choose from any number of different paths to "salvation" between those two extremes. It's a wide open way of looking at life and what it means, and I think that's great. But I have read some pamphlets in my time that have turned the idea of being a Christian into this ultra-low-brow, horrendously conceived, and badly executed miraculous cure-all for all the ills of life. I have read misspelled words, grammar that a five year old should be able to correct, and arguments that simply made no sense, and I have grieved for Christians who seem to know what they're talking about relying on the skills of some hack who can hardly communicate what he wants for dinner, let alone the finer points of faith and religious dogma. It's just sad.

So Kudo's to Robert Lehigh, editor of "Bible Helps" pamphlets from Hanover, PA. I commend you.