You might have noticed (let’s hope) that I haven’t been posting much over on the WWYG?! blog the last few weeks. It’s not that I’m tired of it or anything of that sort. And I’ve got LOTS of LOST episodes to continue to rewatch and recap.
No. This is a purely technical problem.
I mistakenly let me domain lapse and I’ve been trying to work my way through getting it back to me again. Don’t be concerned; I don’t think anyone else is trying to get it or anything. I just missed my yearly payment for the URL and it has become inactive in the interim.
It is more complicated by the fact that I am shifting my domain ownership from one vendor to another and I’m having a bit of trouble figuring out how to get my old vendor to unlock the frozen domain URL so that my new vendor can take ownership. And all of this is happening while work deadlines are tightening and I just haven’t devoted lots of time to sorting out the bureaucratic nonsense.
In short, I haven’t disappeared. Just kind of receded into the background noise for a bit. But things will get sorted soon.
“Do what you love” disguises the fact that being able to choose a career primarily for personal reward is a privilege, a sign of socioeconomic class. Even if a self-employed graphic designer had parents who could pay for art school and co-sign a lease for a slick Brooklyn apartment, she can bestow DWYL as career advice upon those covetous of her success.
If we believe that working as a Silicon Valley entrepreneur or a museum publicist or a think-tank acolyte is essential to being true to ourselves, what do we believe about the inner lives and hopes of those who clean hotel rooms and stock shelves at big-box stores? The answer is: nothing.
Yeah, my inner life today is no richer than it was when I worked at Steak ‘n Shake.
I don’t think we should measure the value of a person’s professional life by whether they have esteemed or lucrative work. The best formulation of professional value I’ve come across is from Tim O’Reilly: “Do things that need doing.”
Stocking shelves? Needs doing. Serving food? Needs doing. Collecting garbage? Needs doing. Editing wikipedia pages? Needs doing. Figuring out how to maximize fees on checking accounts? Doesn’t need doing. Engaging trolls on the Internet? Doesn’t need doing. Volunteering at animal shelters? Needs doing.
Ultimately, for me at least, the measure of work’s value is not expressed best by money or love. The question is whether something that needs to be done is getting done.
Remember how Lupin says Harry’s instincts are good and nearly always right? Why are you mistrusting him at this late juncture? In fact, Harry gains infinitely more by choosing Ginevra Weasley over Hermione Granger.
Ginny brings with her the bright, abundant dowry of the things he always wanted in life and never had. He gains a wide wizarding family, full of people he already admires and loves—and even the requisite family priss-pot, somebody about whom everybody else can complain. What does Hermione offer in the way of family? A pair of nice … dentists. A future that means a tiny nuclear group. In the expansive Weasley clan, Harry will be an uncle many times over as well as a father. There, he has a second pair of parents who already care about him. He has big brothers. He possesses a resonant history with them all, and he is attached to the memory of their dead. We can even say that Harry becomes a kind of fraternal twin to make up for the dead Weasley twin, Fred, for he and Ron are the same age and share boyish passion for broomsticks and quidditch. His best friend becomes his brother.
Now then, what about Hermione, his other best friend? (Let’s note here that the books press onward toward the restoration of Harry’s broken world, and that Hermione and others help in that restoration. If you accept that idea, you accept that the thrust of story is not about Hermione—it’s not even about romance or who ends up with whom.) In the context of a Harry-Ginny union, having Hermione marry Ron becomes an added bonus for Harry—she too becomes his family when she marries Ron and becomes his sister. In this way, Harry becomes related to all the living people he loves most. And this is the only way they can all be related, the only way that nobody is left out of the circle of Harry’s deepest loves.
You see? Harry takes home all the toys. The cupboard child who was last is now first.
"The cupboard child," an open letter to J. K. Rowling, in which the brilliant and wonderful Marly Youmans explains to our beloved author that the marriages at the end of her Harry Potter books are, among other things, about preserving and strengthening the bonds of friendship. (via wesleyhill)