"That's all I'm going to tell about.

I could probably tell you what I did after I went home, and how I got sick and all, and what school I'm supposed to go to next fall, after I get out of here, but I don't feel like it. I really don't."

1) Was there anything ever really wrong with Holden Caufield? Was he ever really "crazy" or "weird" or anything at all? Or was he just like every other person on the planet; just another one of us? After all, we all wish for days to stay the same; we all try and run away from our problems; we all miss people and places and things; we're all lonely sometimes. So really, aren't we all just like Holden Caufield?

2) Did Holden Caufield "lose" the game of life? Was he ever really "playing" it to begin with? Or was he just trying to get by, like so many other people in the world? In the game of life, there are many players - but really, do any of them win or lose?

"If you want to know the truth, I don't know what I think about it. I'm sorry I told so many people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. It's funny. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

I'd Just be a Catcher in the Rye.

"...and I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff- I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I'd do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all."

When they need someone to break their fall, I catch them.

When they need someone to listen, I catch them.

When they need someone to understand, I catch them.

When they need anything at all, I catch them.

Whenever they have a problem, I catch them. And I try to fix it. But there's only so much I can do.

I'm just a catcher in the rye and all.

The Patterns of Our Minds.

"He wouldn't do a goddamn thing to you. He'd simply talk to you, and you'd talk to him, for God's sake. For one thing, he'd help you realize the patterns of your mind."

The patterns of Holden's mind are laced with longing for times past. He calls up "old Luce", his student advisor from Whooton, just so he can have a drink and talk with him...even though he claims he doesn't care much for Luce to begin with. When Luce shows up, Holden sinks back into a person we don't recognize - he jokes about sex, flits, and other immature things. Who is this Holden? This isn't who we know and identify with. This can't be Holden Caufield...can it?

It can.

This is Holden trying to relate to Luce. This is Holden trying to make himself the same person he was back in the day. This is Holden trying to convince himself that life can stay frozen in a moment and that things can stay the way they are. This is Holden trying not to grow up.

But when Holden changes himself this way, he's in for a big surprise. Old Luce shoots him down, showering him with insults and not responding to his conversation starters. Luce has moved on; he's grown up and matured, and he's isn't the person he was before.

When Luce leaves, Holden is shocked; he's confused; he's hurt. He doesn't understand that things have changed; people have changed; that everything has changed. He doesn't understand because he doesn't want to; he doesn't try to. The patterns of his mind have convinced him that it's simple to slip back into the good old days; that with a phone call and a friend, you can be who you were before; that nostalgia can become reality again. 

The patterns of all of our minds tell us things can be the same - that things don't have to change. We convince ourselves that of course, we're still the same people, and that the world doesn't spin madly on. If we looked past these patterns, though, we'd see that everyday, we're all changing. None of us are who were before, and life will stop for nobody. We're all growing up, and there's nothing any of us can do about it.

Life is a game, and the patterns of our minds only make losing hurt that much worse.

It's called nostalgia.

"The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and their pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that'd be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have on an overcoat this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or maybe you'd have a substitue taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom, Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with the gasoline rainbows in them. I mean, you'd be different in some way - I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it."

Everything in the musuem stays preserved in its glass cases - the Eskimos will always be frozen into the happiness of catching a fish, the sqaw's joy of weaving a blanket will be perfectly captured forever. The birds will stay mid-flight, and the deers will remain as beautiful and skinny as ever. To Holden, this preservation of life equals happiness. To him, it would be great to stay trapped in the moments of youth - where bad things didn't happen and life wasn't a game - where it was only fun.

But Holden's life can't stay frozen forever; his preservation of childhood just doesn't work. His brother is dead, he's been thrown out of school again, and now he's on his own in New York. Preservation doesn't work with life - it only makes you nostalgic.

Nostalgia - longing for something past. When he visits the musuem, Holden experiences terrible cases of nostalgia. He longs for the days when he visited the museum as a child; back before things were different; back before he realized that he was different. And what does he mean by being "different" exactly? He means by growing up. Every time he comes back to the museum, something, no matter how small, has changed. The little things, such as seeing a gasoline rainbow, change you as much as the big things, like when your parents fight. With each change, as he becomes more and more different, Holden becomes more and more nostalgic; for his childhood, his past, and for the safe preserved glass cases of the musuem.

All this longing for the past?
All this longing to be who he was before?
All this longing to not have to grow up?
It's called nostalgia.

P.S. This poem really reminds me of this passage of the book. It's from The Perks of Being a Wallflower (no surprise there, Jordan), and it's called "A Person, A Paper, A Promise."

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an Aand asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn
was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.

Riga Girls

""Look," I said. "I don't feel very much like myself tonight. I've had a rough night. Honest to God. I'll pay you and all, but do you mind very much if we don't do it? Do you mind very much?" The trouble was, I just didn't want to do it. I felt more depressed than sexy, if you want to know the truth. She was depressing. Her green dress hanging in the closet and all. And besides, I don't think I could ever do it with someone who sits in a stupid movie all day long. I really don't think I could."

Riga, Latvia is a far-off place near Russia. It's the capitol of the country of Latvia. It's the largest city in the Baltic states. It's also where prostitution is extremely common and terribly cheap.

There's a song about Riga's infamous prostitution - performed by The Weepies, "Riga Girls" is the story of the girls in Riga, also known as the prostitutes.

Are your friends really your friends?
Are you still waiting for the end of the day?
Hey, hey, when will you learn to love what's sent from up above?

Riga girls go like this
Make me wish I was someone else
Oh, Riga girls, are you sad?
Oh, I wish I had someone

Just a little bit of snake oil, tin foil
It takes so little charm to keep you hanging on
But it's a facade like the sky, like the moon, like your eyes

Riga girls like to kiss
Make me wish I was someone else
Oh, Riga girls are you sad?
Oh, I wish I had someone

Who would want you as you are?
What can you give they couldn't get from someone else?
What life of ease, what wedding bells, what pretty stones, what precious wealth?

Don't be lonely, why don't you call me?
It's called a come on, come on, come on baby
Does your heart echo like a hall
'Cause there's no one there at all.

Riga girls go like this
Make me wish I was someone else
Oh, Riga girls, are you sad?
Oh, I wish I had someone.

The lead singer of The Weepies, Steve Tannen, explained why he wrote it once. There was a point in his life when he was terribly lonely; so lonely that he would sit down and actually read through all the spam that was emailed to him, just so that he felt that someone cared enough to contact him. Most of the spam was titled things such as, "RIGA GIRLS!!!!!!! GO LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!" or "CHEAP, EASY, RIGA GIRLS!!!!!!" To escape his own lonliness, Steve Tannen wrote about theirs - the lonely life of a Riga girl, who has to endure life alone, with pain masked behind their faces. What's weird though, is that through this song, Steve Tannen related lonliness to more people than just the Riga girls - I can listen to these lyrics and feel almost as if he is describing Sunny; as if he's describing Holden Caulfield; as if he could even be describing me.

Sunny is lonely. She's just like a Riga Girl; there's a facade in her eyes as she does her duty for her job; no one wants her as she is. All she wants is someone.

Holden is lonely. He's just like a Riga Girl, though not in the same way as Sunny. He is willing to pay an absolute stranger, a prostitute, to listen to his problems and pretend, at least, to care and understand. All he wants is someone.

We're all lonely. We're all just like Riga Girls. We all feel alone, and we all have troubles loving what we've got. All we want is someone.

All we all want is just someone.
"Oh, I wish I had someone."

The Perks of Being Alienated

When I first came to NU last year, no one knew the feeling of alienation better than I did. I knew absolutely no one, and for the first few months of school, I was a wallflower. I kept quite, kept to myself, and kept out of the social scene. It took a few brave people to get me off of the wallpaper, and I am so happy they did. Now I'm happy with where I am, but I still remember where I came from and how I've gotten here.

I honestly think that being alienated last year has made a stronger person. Because I've lived, and obviously survived okay, through such a thing, I'm older and wiser and I have a life that I'm thankful for in return. Holden Caulfield is one of those people like I was once - he's a wallflower. He feels alienated, and in return, we feel sorry for him. But should we? I don't really know.

I honestly believe that everyone should feel alienated because it makes them stronger and smarter people. I wouldn't be who I am today without that feeling, and even though I hated it then, I'm glad it happened now. I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe we should look on the bright side and find the perks of being alienated - that we should realize that it makes us stronger and teaches us a lot about society and even about ourselves. In fact, Holden Caulfield needs to look at these perks and understand why it's good for him to feel alone for now; why it's good to see the world differently; why it's good to be alienated. I swear that someday, he'll be grateful it happened...just like I am.

Sledding.

"I walked over the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough. But it isn't."
-The Perks of Being a Wallflower

When you're young, sledding is enough. It's enough to get by in the world by just sliding down a hill feeling the wind in your hair; it's enough to race your best friend just for fun; it's enough to literally fly. You're carefree, and you're innocent. You're just a kid.

But when you're older, sledding isn't enough anymore. Instead, you have to get by in the world by playing the game of life; you have to sit down and accept responsibility; you have to do everything right. You have to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground, because flying gets you no where. You're stressed, and you're not so innocent anymore. You're an adult.

Holden Caulfield isn't a kid, but he also isn't an adult. He's torn between two worlds.

He has childish thoughts, like one he has about the snow -
"I went over to my window and opened it and packed a snowball with my bare hands. I didn't throw it at anything, though. I started to throw it. At a car that was parked across the street. But I changed my mind. Then I started to throw it at a hydrant, but that looked too white and nice, too. Finally, I didn't throw it at anything."

And he does childish things -
"The next part I don't remember so hot. All I know is I got up from the bed, and then I tried to sock him."

But Holden has also experienced adult-like things - such as Allie's death, living alone (well, with a roommate) at boarding school, or even getting a hotel in New York all on his own.

So which is he? Child or adult?
Neither.
He's caught in the middle, just transitioning; just like me.

I'm caught in the middle, transitioning.

On one side is the fun Jordan who cares about having a good time; the Jordan who laughs without a worry in the world; the Jordan who loves sledding and the feeling of it being enough to fix anything.

But on the other side, there is the responsible Jordan who cares about good grades; the Jordan who has seen pain and suffering from many angles; the Jordan who likes to go sledding, but knows it's not enough anymore.

Holden Caulfield is like that.
He's growing up; he's transitioning; he's just a teenager.
And as far as I know, sledding isn't enough to fix that.
But wouldn't it be great if sledding were always enough?