Of all the places in a home, the dining room is always the most nostalgic to me. It’s the most intimate room for the whole family where all members can join hands for food blessing and thanksgiving. The place where parents or ‘heads’ can pressure members to linger and be coaxed to share his or her story for the day—unlike the living room where most members would like to talk about movies and music and are free to leave anytime. For busy heads who are always on tight schedules, talking about business is taboo—business talk will surely somewhat ruin appetite.
For some people, the dining room reminds them of the sadness of growing up without their own family. Or worse, growing up with their own family but with the place where dinners are always ruined with family quarrels or fights. So when the children of such families become adults and are preparing to start their own family home, buying a beautiful and big dining table is a priority. With positive thinking, they envision a place where every dinner would be a peaceful and happy one.
Is there a central divide between the likeness and the self?
Who is really writing what you write?
Joyce Carol Oates on the Divided Self and the “Diamagnetic” Relationship Between Person and Persona
“No one wants to believe this obvious truth: The ‘artist’ can inhabit any individual, for the individual is irrelevant to ‘art.’” – Anaïs Nin
‘Oates considers the notion of art as something external to the individual, something that inhabits him or her rather at random, and adds to history’s most beautiful definitions of art:
And so my life continues through the decades…not connected in the slightest with that conspicuous other with whom, by accident, I share a name and likeness. The fact seems self-evident that I was but the door through which she entered — “it” entered — but any door would have done as well. Does it matter which entrance you use to enter a walled garden? Once you’re inside, and have closed the door?
‘For once, not she but I am writing these pages. Or so I believe…’