Three years ago today, at 8PM, the course of my life was inextricably altered from the path I expected it to go down with three words. Acute Myeloid Leukemia.
Today on my drive into work I saw a person being placed on a stretcher after a motorcycle accident.
Life is not always what you think it will be. Every day that your plans go as designed is a minor miracle.
My life is so very different from what it was 3 years and one week ago... So different that I often feel like it was another life, lived by another person. So different that it feels like something I watched happen on a tv show.
In my Creative Writing class, I really don't want to turn into the girl who only writes about death and cancer and dealing with it all. But at the same time... It's something that I know-- something that I know rather well. And it seems like everything keeps coming back to it, no matter how I try to run from it.
It's hard to know how to embrace and accept something you never wanted to be, but are, nonetheless.
It's hard because you desperately want everyone to know but you don't wanted to be treated differently.
Actually that isn't true. I do want to be treated differently. When it comes down to it I want respect for living through it. I don't need the sympathy, and I don't want the pity. I have no use for being treated with kid gloves or for "handle with care" signs. But I want the recognition that I know a tiny bit more about life than my age or my appearance would imply. I want the respect of somehow managing to still thrive despite tragedy. I want the acknowledgement that I make pretty kick-ass lemonade out of some horrendously rotten lemons.
There are times I just feel so different. I'm an okapi... I look like part zebra, part pony, but I'm actually a lot closer to a giraffe... and I don't really fit in anywhere. Heck, most people aren't really even aware that okapi's actually exist, beyond tangentially. They certainly don't expect to just run into one in the middle of their day.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Conference
Hi!
I've been luxuriating in the freedom of not having to blog. Last night I went to bed at midnight, because I could and I was tired.
But today I missed you.
Your bright shining faces. The way you make me laugh. The way you fill up my e-mail inbox every morning.
And also I wanted to talk.
I went to a conference this weekend in St. Louis. It was fun to travel with friends and meet new people.
Honestly the conference itself wasn't that ground shattering, except for some really cool things that happened at the very end.
It seems as though the thing God wants to tell me... the thing that He's been telling me over and over is that I'm beautiful. It's certainly a tautology I need and want to hear. Heavens knows I've mentioned enough on here that it's one of the things I miss the most about Nathan. Someone came up to me at the same conference last year and told me that God wanted me to know I was beautiful and then two separate people at this conference told me the same thing (neither of them know me or my story.) One said that I was beautiful, but not just on the outside but because I was made intentionally that way that- "what God has made you, is beautiful." He referenced Psalm 139. The other said I was a "rare and beautiful flower" Then someone else came up to me and told me that off of the flower thing, he got "reborn or rebirth, like a perennial." And then he quoted Matthew 5: 14-16- “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."
So, while I want and need to be called beautiful and it's pretty telling that it came from three different sources, the last thing is the thing which hit me the hardest... Because while I think this guy knew that my name is Renée, he didn't know that I am a widow and he certainly didn't know that I feel like I've gone through a rebirth of beauty... that I really do feel like an perennial. And there was no way for him to know that Matthew 16 is the verse which I most desire in all the world to live like.
In conclusion: God's sorta cool.
Oh, and the last word was monolith.
And in other news, I bought brown boots today and I love this song, which I've just discovered.
I've been luxuriating in the freedom of not having to blog. Last night I went to bed at midnight, because I could and I was tired.
But today I missed you.
Your bright shining faces. The way you make me laugh. The way you fill up my e-mail inbox every morning.
And also I wanted to talk.
I went to a conference this weekend in St. Louis. It was fun to travel with friends and meet new people.
Honestly the conference itself wasn't that ground shattering, except for some really cool things that happened at the very end.
It seems as though the thing God wants to tell me... the thing that He's been telling me over and over is that I'm beautiful. It's certainly a tautology I need and want to hear. Heavens knows I've mentioned enough on here that it's one of the things I miss the most about Nathan. Someone came up to me at the same conference last year and told me that God wanted me to know I was beautiful and then two separate people at this conference told me the same thing (neither of them know me or my story.) One said that I was beautiful, but not just on the outside but because I was made intentionally that way that- "what God has made you, is beautiful." He referenced Psalm 139. The other said I was a "rare and beautiful flower" Then someone else came up to me and told me that off of the flower thing, he got "reborn or rebirth, like a perennial." And then he quoted Matthew 5: 14-16- “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."
So, while I want and need to be called beautiful and it's pretty telling that it came from three different sources, the last thing is the thing which hit me the hardest... Because while I think this guy knew that my name is Renée, he didn't know that I am a widow and he certainly didn't know that I feel like I've gone through a rebirth of beauty... that I really do feel like an perennial. And there was no way for him to know that Matthew 16 is the verse which I most desire in all the world to live like.
In conclusion: God's sorta cool.
Oh, and the last word was monolith.
And in other news, I bought brown boots today and I love this song, which I've just discovered.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
A Slow-down
Yesterday's word was miscreant.
So I have some possibly sad news...
The days (nights) of me blogging every day are going to be coming to an end. I've been doing this for over a year and a half, and when I didn't have this stuff called homework it was really a do-able system.
But I have homework now.
A lot.
And I keep not getting it done.
In part because I just want to revise a story, not work on anyone else's critiques.
And in part because I need to sleep sometimes....
The thing is I only have so many hours and the extra hour (or sometimes way more) that a blog post takes me is an extra hour of sleep I'm losing, or homework time I'm not doing....
And I just don't have that many hours to spare.
I'm not going to stop blogging. I love it too much... but I think I'm only going to blog when I actually have something to say... I just can't keep up this pace and it feels like a waste of time to be making up things to say, when I have things I need to be doing.
I'm not stopping the word game. I'm not ending my blog. I'm just trying to avoid building a monolith to my own stupidity. So I'm instituting a slow-down. I can't feel guilty for just needing to go to bed. I can't feel bad if I have things I have to get done.
I just need to go to bed. I just need to get things done.
I hope you understand.
I'm grateful that you have so incorporated me into your routines, but the frenetic pace is overwhelming.
Believe me, it's not you, it's me.
So I have some possibly sad news...
The days (nights) of me blogging every day are going to be coming to an end. I've been doing this for over a year and a half, and when I didn't have this stuff called homework it was really a do-able system.
But I have homework now.
A lot.
And I keep not getting it done.
In part because I just want to revise a story, not work on anyone else's critiques.
And in part because I need to sleep sometimes....
The thing is I only have so many hours and the extra hour (or sometimes way more) that a blog post takes me is an extra hour of sleep I'm losing, or homework time I'm not doing....
And I just don't have that many hours to spare.
I'm not going to stop blogging. I love it too much... but I think I'm only going to blog when I actually have something to say... I just can't keep up this pace and it feels like a waste of time to be making up things to say, when I have things I need to be doing.
I'm not stopping the word game. I'm not ending my blog. I'm just trying to avoid building a monolith to my own stupidity. So I'm instituting a slow-down. I can't feel guilty for just needing to go to bed. I can't feel bad if I have things I have to get done.
I just need to go to bed. I just need to get things done.
I hope you understand.
I'm grateful that you have so incorporated me into your routines, but the frenetic pace is overwhelming.
Believe me, it's not you, it's me.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Miscreant Bear
I powered through and didn't nap today, when I really wanted to come home and just knock out...
but that means it's 11:23 and I'm completely wiped. And I don't get to sleep in, because of the conference this weekend, I have to work tomorrow morning.. Woot. :/
I got a really nice e-mail this evening. The high points were...
"I wish more people were like you. You went out of your way to say something nice to me, and it's those type of actions that make life endlessly pleasant and redeeming.
I will surely save and reflect on [what you said] when I need to remember people are good. And they are."
The thing is, what I said to this person wasn't that nice... but I have *always* wanted to live a life that made people believe in the good of the world, so it sorta made my heart glow, nonetheless.
Yes, I did just basically admit my life's goal is to be a CareBear...
I think I would be Miscreant Bear with my ebony and sapphire hair... and being a human and all. My tummy symbol could be my tattoo.
Yep, that's brilliant.
Oh and yesterday's word was hexagonal
but that means it's 11:23 and I'm completely wiped. And I don't get to sleep in, because of the conference this weekend, I have to work tomorrow morning.. Woot. :/
I got a really nice e-mail this evening. The high points were...
"I wish more people were like you. You went out of your way to say something nice to me, and it's those type of actions that make life endlessly pleasant and redeeming.
I will surely save and reflect on [what you said] when I need to remember people are good. And they are."
The thing is, what I said to this person wasn't that nice... but I have *always* wanted to live a life that made people believe in the good of the world, so it sorta made my heart glow, nonetheless.
Yes, I did just basically admit my life's goal is to be a CareBear...
I think I would be Miscreant Bear with my ebony and sapphire hair... and being a human and all. My tummy symbol could be my tattoo.
Yep, that's brilliant.
Oh and yesterday's word was hexagonal
Memory
I've been thinking a lot about memory.
In part because I remember a lot.
In part because it's a little bit about what my last story was about.
In part because Ryan sent me the link to this article.
In part because in the article it makes memory sound like a sandcastle... or a little kid's block set. Something you build and then every time you remember you knock it all down and build it up again. But it's never really the same as it was... not quite.
In part because there are so many things that I wish were written down, or video taped, just so that I would know exactly what happened... exactly how it happened...
In part because there are so many things that were once written down that have been lost now.
In part because Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has burst back into my life with a vengeance and I just watched it for the first time since I lived on the first floor of a hexagonal prism.
In part because I'm in one of those weird moods that artsy movies make you get into.
In part because I messed up my sleep schedule last week and it's currently 5:30 AM
In part because I want to have Clementine's hair.
The thing that I like about my blog is that it's a semi-accurate representation of what I'm feeling on a day to day basis, that I can always go back and look at. The thing I dislike about it is the same...
I say semi-accurate, for one reason- I still keep secrets from my blog. If I'm angry at someone I don't tell my blog. If I'm in love with someone I don't tell my blog. If I'm bored with someone I don't tell my blog. I don't (or very rarely?) express my political views on my blog. I don't tell other's secrets on my blog.
Sometimes I leave myself subtle clues, so that if I ever do go back and read my blog I can recall the emotion of that day.... What I was really saying. I try to be subtle enough that no one else knows they are clues, but sometimes I wonder if those who know me best.. can't see through the billboard sign that I call "subtle."
I have a pretty distorted view of myself... I think my mouth is open really really big when Kara says it's just barely open and I think my thoughts/emotions are locked up up tight when really they are on display for anyone who has eyes.
But then again maybe that just means I'm like the rest of the world.
In part because I remember a lot.
In part because it's a little bit about what my last story was about.
In part because Ryan sent me the link to this article.
In part because in the article it makes memory sound like a sandcastle... or a little kid's block set. Something you build and then every time you remember you knock it all down and build it up again. But it's never really the same as it was... not quite.
In part because there are so many things that I wish were written down, or video taped, just so that I would know exactly what happened... exactly how it happened...
In part because there are so many things that were once written down that have been lost now.
In part because Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind has burst back into my life with a vengeance and I just watched it for the first time since I lived on the first floor of a hexagonal prism.
In part because I'm in one of those weird moods that artsy movies make you get into.
In part because I messed up my sleep schedule last week and it's currently 5:30 AM
In part because I want to have Clementine's hair.
The thing that I like about my blog is that it's a semi-accurate representation of what I'm feeling on a day to day basis, that I can always go back and look at. The thing I dislike about it is the same...
I say semi-accurate, for one reason- I still keep secrets from my blog. If I'm angry at someone I don't tell my blog. If I'm in love with someone I don't tell my blog. If I'm bored with someone I don't tell my blog. I don't (or very rarely?) express my political views on my blog. I don't tell other's secrets on my blog.
Sometimes I leave myself subtle clues, so that if I ever do go back and read my blog I can recall the emotion of that day.... What I was really saying. I try to be subtle enough that no one else knows they are clues, but sometimes I wonder if those who know me best.. can't see through the billboard sign that I call "subtle."
I have a pretty distorted view of myself... I think my mouth is open really really big when Kara says it's just barely open and I think my thoughts/emotions are locked up up tight when really they are on display for anyone who has eyes.
But then again maybe that just means I'm like the rest of the world.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Plain as the proboscis
So I sorta forgot something yesterday...
To be fair I was up till 6, editing a story, so by the time I went to bed I wasn't thinking clearly.
I'm sorry for being a terrible scallywag who forgets to blog.
Please tell me I'm not the only person in the world who suddenly realizes that they don't know the story behind a word and then they go look it up.
The Word Detective comes to my rescue again.
I have to warn you... this might happen more often... I kinda have a lot on my plate these days, and I don't get graded on or paid for my blog... Nor does my blog fufill my social needs as well as an actual person does... and some of my friends have already started making comments about never seeing me...
Heavens I *love* being busy... and I love being busy with something that I love, my blog might not love me being busy so much, though....
I also love my friends and how willing they are to be mad for me so I don't have to be mad for myself. It makes my life a whole lot easier.
I had to cut my nails off pretty short because one broke and the asymmetry was really bothering me.
I'm sleepy.
Exhausted, tired, entering a state of sombulance, worn out, tuckered.
Not-yesterday the word was proboscis... yes, sometimes I am just that obvious.
Plain as the proboscis on your face.
To be fair I was up till 6, editing a story, so by the time I went to bed I wasn't thinking clearly.
I'm sorry for being a terrible scallywag who forgets to blog.
Please tell me I'm not the only person in the world who suddenly realizes that they don't know the story behind a word and then they go look it up.
The Word Detective comes to my rescue again.
I have to warn you... this might happen more often... I kinda have a lot on my plate these days, and I don't get graded on or paid for my blog... Nor does my blog fufill my social needs as well as an actual person does... and some of my friends have already started making comments about never seeing me...
Heavens I *love* being busy... and I love being busy with something that I love, my blog might not love me being busy so much, though....
I also love my friends and how willing they are to be mad for me so I don't have to be mad for myself. It makes my life a whole lot easier.
I had to cut my nails off pretty short because one broke and the asymmetry was really bothering me.
I'm sleepy.
Exhausted, tired, entering a state of sombulance, worn out, tuckered.
Not-yesterday the word was proboscis... yes, sometimes I am just that obvious.
Plain as the proboscis on your face.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Criticism, aka, "Yo girl, why you gotta be hatin' ?"
I got back critiques from class today.
The good thing is that the people who's writing I've most liked and respected also thought my writing was decent and gave me some helpful feedback.
The bad thing is that one girl told me that there were many things in my story "that are assumed and not actually factual or true" and she would suggest researching some facts. (She doesn't actually tell me what "facts" I need to research.)
...This is a story that I was seriously considering not submitting because it's right on the line between fiction and creative non-fiction... But as I told a friend- I submitted it as fiction. There is no way for her to know that this story is based so closely in reality.
Must get thicker skin for people who don't know what they are talking about. After all, I can't have it all... I either get to be 24 and clueless about heartache, or 29 and a world-weary traveler, and I've chosen 24.
Thursday nights are my favorites because they are the only night I don't feel guilty about not doing one morsel of homework.
Oh and I'm going to a writer's retreat in the middle of October. I'm excited... and hoping I'm able to find a roommate or two for the retreat.
Yesterday's word was Meritocracy.
Anyone else think that Kara's been making the words extra hard to hide lately?? Yeah, me too! I mean how in the world am I supposed to be able to hide a word like proboscis??
YEAH.
And then I was all, like, "Check out the proboscis on that girl."
The good thing is that the people who's writing I've most liked and respected also thought my writing was decent and gave me some helpful feedback.
The bad thing is that one girl told me that there were many things in my story "that are assumed and not actually factual or true" and she would suggest researching some facts. (She doesn't actually tell me what "facts" I need to research.)
...This is a story that I was seriously considering not submitting because it's right on the line between fiction and creative non-fiction... But as I told a friend- I submitted it as fiction. There is no way for her to know that this story is based so closely in reality.
Must get thicker skin for people who don't know what they are talking about. After all, I can't have it all... I either get to be 24 and clueless about heartache, or 29 and a world-weary traveler, and I've chosen 24.
Thursday nights are my favorites because they are the only night I don't feel guilty about not doing one morsel of homework.
Oh and I'm going to a writer's retreat in the middle of October. I'm excited... and hoping I'm able to find a roommate or two for the retreat.
Yesterday's word was Meritocracy.
Anyone else think that Kara's been making the words extra hard to hide lately?? Yeah, me too! I mean how in the world am I supposed to be able to hide a word like proboscis??
YEAH.
And then I was all, like, "Check out the proboscis on that girl."
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The Changing Force
Yesterday's word was jodhpurs. I'm moving this announcement to wherever I think it works best... heck it might be in the middle of some paragraph next week.
If this week was a meritocracy, Wednesday would be the supreme high ruler of everything.
Today I worked for 7 hours, took a 2 hour nap, went to 2 grocery stores, ate dinner and watched a tv show while eating, read a short story, read a chapter of dense book, read a page of critisicm summary, and chatted with a friend.
Oh and I also have to read a play and write 300 words about it... and it's 2:40 AM... I wish S-bucks was open at 3 in the morning.
I am Wednesday hear me roar!
But what I wanted to talk about was a tiny bit of the conversation I had with my friend. He'd written a blog post and wanted a second opinion before posting it, so he sent it to me cause... well... it's pretty obvious why.
Before I read it he told me that the post was "long and negative."
Now this friend is rather likely to overly self-critical so I wasn't expecting it to be as bad as he said. But then I read the post... and it wasn't negative at all. Yes, he discussed frustrations, and yes he talked about when things were difficult. But he was also talking about a triumph. He ended with a victory. So, after reading it I rejoined him, "It's not about the negative. It's about overcoming the negative."
And that got me to thinking... The negatives have to be there. In every story there is a negative. If there isn't, there isn't much of a story.
But if, in the end, the negative isn't still reigning supreme then it's not about the negative.
It's about the changing force.
Sometimes in a story the changing force is a negative.
Sometimes in the story the changing force is a positive.
And since we all know that I currently view my life in terms of a trilogy: If you look at a typical trilogy format, you see a big negative changing force and then a small positive force in the first book, and then a mainly negative changing force in the second book, and then in the third, the big positive changing force.
So my life isn't about cancer or widowhood or the bad stuff that's happened... My life is about overcoming the bad stuff, and the farther into the third book I get, the better it is.
Though I still haven't met any Ewoks, which is one of my life's greatest sadnesses.
If this week was a meritocracy, Wednesday would be the supreme high ruler of everything.
Today I worked for 7 hours, took a 2 hour nap, went to 2 grocery stores, ate dinner and watched a tv show while eating, read a short story, read a chapter of dense book, read a page of critisicm summary, and chatted with a friend.
Oh and I also have to read a play and write 300 words about it... and it's 2:40 AM... I wish S-bucks was open at 3 in the morning.
I am Wednesday hear me roar!
But what I wanted to talk about was a tiny bit of the conversation I had with my friend. He'd written a blog post and wanted a second opinion before posting it, so he sent it to me cause... well... it's pretty obvious why.
Before I read it he told me that the post was "long and negative."
Now this friend is rather likely to overly self-critical so I wasn't expecting it to be as bad as he said. But then I read the post... and it wasn't negative at all. Yes, he discussed frustrations, and yes he talked about when things were difficult. But he was also talking about a triumph. He ended with a victory. So, after reading it I rejoined him, "It's not about the negative. It's about overcoming the negative."
And that got me to thinking... The negatives have to be there. In every story there is a negative. If there isn't, there isn't much of a story.
But if, in the end, the negative isn't still reigning supreme then it's not about the negative.
It's about the changing force.
Sometimes in a story the changing force is a negative.
Sometimes in the story the changing force is a positive.
And since we all know that I currently view my life in terms of a trilogy: If you look at a typical trilogy format, you see a big negative changing force and then a small positive force in the first book, and then a mainly negative changing force in the second book, and then in the third, the big positive changing force.
So my life isn't about cancer or widowhood or the bad stuff that's happened... My life is about overcoming the bad stuff, and the farther into the third book I get, the better it is.
Though I still haven't met any Ewoks, which is one of my life's greatest sadnesses.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
17 of 30
List time!
17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
This one is easy:
Sustained Spontaneous Talking (which is intelligent and coherent.)
There are so many times in my life when I wish that I could make my point or get out a coherent argument, without saying something that is the opposite of what I mean.
I want to be quick on my feet when it comes to talking. I have a pretty good wit. I can throw in one liners, but when it comes to just going on about a topic... Oy vey.
Half the time I don't even know what I think about something until days after the fact, much less am able to wax eloquently on the matter.
And I *always* figure out what I wish I'd said hours (or days) after it's time to make my point.
But it's not like I can watch a movie and then say to my friends, "Ok, lets discuss this 3 days hence."
Or tell my professor not to get his knickers in a twist, "I'm thinking."
Knickers in a twist... Slacks in a bow... Capris in a snare... Jodhpurs in a knot... Breeches in a bunch... Dungarees in a dungeon...
Ok, now I'm just playing.
Yesterday's word was fodder.
17. What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
This one is easy:
Sustained Spontaneous Talking (which is intelligent and coherent.)
There are so many times in my life when I wish that I could make my point or get out a coherent argument, without saying something that is the opposite of what I mean.
I want to be quick on my feet when it comes to talking. I have a pretty good wit. I can throw in one liners, but when it comes to just going on about a topic... Oy vey.
Half the time I don't even know what I think about something until days after the fact, much less am able to wax eloquently on the matter.
And I *always* figure out what I wish I'd said hours (or days) after it's time to make my point.
But it's not like I can watch a movie and then say to my friends, "Ok, lets discuss this 3 days hence."
Or tell my professor not to get his knickers in a twist, "I'm thinking."
Knickers in a twist... Slacks in a bow... Capris in a snare... Jodhpurs in a knot... Breeches in a bunch... Dungarees in a dungeon...
Ok, now I'm just playing.
Yesterday's word was fodder.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Introverts and me
So here's the thing.
I'm an extrovert.
I've said it before and I'll say it again.
It took me until sometime in the middle of college... or maybe even after college to figure it out, because I'm not good at small talk. I'm not super gregarious. I don't have a sparkling personality that makes everyone want to stop and talk with me. I don't talk to everyone if I go to a party. I'm quiet and I'm not that outgoing.
So it's safe to say I'm not what people would call a "typical extrovert."
But I call myself an extrovert because I love people. I need to be around people. People make me happy. I crave the company of others. Now obviously this applies to all people, but there is something in me that especially loves introverts.
I'm not completely sure why, but I've developed close bonds with introverts too many times at this point to dismiss the pattern. Perhaps it's that I identify with so many of the traits that people say are normal of introverts. Perhaps it's that I love the "underdog." Perhaps it's that I love a challenge. Perhaps it's that I need balance. Perhaps it's that if an introvert wants to be my friend it feels like I've somehow won a prize or proven my worth. Perhaps it's that I just really find introverts endearing.
Yep, endearing. I love it when one of my introverted friends goes on one of their surprise rants. I love observing and figuring them out better than most people do. I love being someone they can stand to be around when they finally do need a friend. I guess that introverts take me by surprise pretty often and I really like that.
So, obviously I'm a huge fan of all the things that are posted about taking care of introverts- Instructional manuals for my friends? Yes, please! Also they are usually funny. Like this one, where the introvert lives in a hampster ball. Or this one where someone wrote an introvert "manifesto." And of course the most famous of them all: Caring for Your Introvert, which has made the facebook rounds about 4 times from what I can tell. It's not as funny, and some people find it downright offensive.
But I have noticed that people don't post things to facebook about the care and training of extroverts... And it's a little amusing because Jung (Carl Jung) defined "extroversion" as viewing the world through others first and "introversion" as viewing the world through self first. So of course there are tons of introvert-care articles, written by introverts. (Now lest you think I'm providing fodder for the "introverts are selfish" canon, let me be clear. Introverts are not selfish. In fact, the kindest people I know are introverts. I's and E's just have different vantage points-- like introverts see the world via a mirror, and extroverts see themselves via a security cam.) (I almost deleted this paragraph but I like that metaphor too much.)
So I searched the internet and found a few things.
First there was this blog. I read it and nodded... and then frowned because there are a few things in the midst of the article that are really really not me. For instance: "we learn early on to master the expected patter about weather and jobs and how are the kids." Ha! Not me... but then again I was raised by introverts (though around them constantly) and subsequently I'm pretty darn comfortable with silence. And while I was/am wracked by insecurity about what others think of me... I've also never had any doubt that I was loved, so any love and human interaction I didn't get from my peers because I was so awkward I could always get from my family, which means that learning social skills was both slightly hard and slightly unnecessary, so I didn't achieve any sort of mastery.
Then I found these two designs-- Neither of which are angry or sarcastic, but actually work together.
This is technically written for the parents of introverts, so a few things seem a little condescending (reprimand them and teach them new skills privately), but at the same time I think they are still valid.
And then there is this one, written to be a companion to the first.
I read this and I was sold at #2... This happened spontaneously to me yesterday and I could barely contain my grin, though I, of course, down-played myself. I think I've written a blog just on that at some point. Someone boasting about my accomplishments to a third party (especially while I'm present) is one of the greatest things in the world...
Yeah... this was a kinda long and rambly blog... it's not very well organized but I just remembered that I have to go to the dentist in the morning, so I'm not going to go back and fix the organizational pattern. Cause I have reading that needs to happen and teeth to be checked in the morning.
Yesterday's word was tom-foolery. (I'm putting these at the bottom now so as to not start off so strangely.)
I'm an extrovert.
I've said it before and I'll say it again.
It took me until sometime in the middle of college... or maybe even after college to figure it out, because I'm not good at small talk. I'm not super gregarious. I don't have a sparkling personality that makes everyone want to stop and talk with me. I don't talk to everyone if I go to a party. I'm quiet and I'm not that outgoing.
So it's safe to say I'm not what people would call a "typical extrovert."
But I call myself an extrovert because I love people. I need to be around people. People make me happy. I crave the company of others. Now obviously this applies to all people, but there is something in me that especially loves introverts.
I'm not completely sure why, but I've developed close bonds with introverts too many times at this point to dismiss the pattern. Perhaps it's that I identify with so many of the traits that people say are normal of introverts. Perhaps it's that I love the "underdog." Perhaps it's that I love a challenge. Perhaps it's that I need balance. Perhaps it's that if an introvert wants to be my friend it feels like I've somehow won a prize or proven my worth. Perhaps it's that I just really find introverts endearing.
Yep, endearing. I love it when one of my introverted friends goes on one of their surprise rants. I love observing and figuring them out better than most people do. I love being someone they can stand to be around when they finally do need a friend. I guess that introverts take me by surprise pretty often and I really like that.
So, obviously I'm a huge fan of all the things that are posted about taking care of introverts- Instructional manuals for my friends? Yes, please! Also they are usually funny. Like this one, where the introvert lives in a hampster ball. Or this one where someone wrote an introvert "manifesto." And of course the most famous of them all: Caring for Your Introvert, which has made the facebook rounds about 4 times from what I can tell. It's not as funny, and some people find it downright offensive.
But I have noticed that people don't post things to facebook about the care and training of extroverts... And it's a little amusing because Jung (Carl Jung) defined "extroversion" as viewing the world through others first and "introversion" as viewing the world through self first. So of course there are tons of introvert-care articles, written by introverts. (Now lest you think I'm providing fodder for the "introverts are selfish" canon, let me be clear. Introverts are not selfish. In fact, the kindest people I know are introverts. I's and E's just have different vantage points-- like introverts see the world via a mirror, and extroverts see themselves via a security cam.) (I almost deleted this paragraph but I like that metaphor too much.)
So I searched the internet and found a few things.
First there was this blog. I read it and nodded... and then frowned because there are a few things in the midst of the article that are really really not me. For instance: "we learn early on to master the expected patter about weather and jobs and how are the kids." Ha! Not me... but then again I was raised by introverts (though around them constantly) and subsequently I'm pretty darn comfortable with silence. And while I was/am wracked by insecurity about what others think of me... I've also never had any doubt that I was loved, so any love and human interaction I didn't get from my peers because I was so awkward I could always get from my family, which means that learning social skills was both slightly hard and slightly unnecessary, so I didn't achieve any sort of mastery.
Then I found these two designs-- Neither of which are angry or sarcastic, but actually work together.
This is technically written for the parents of introverts, so a few things seem a little condescending (reprimand them and teach them new skills privately), but at the same time I think they are still valid.
 |
| http://questionablylate.tumblr.com/post/17227500725/my-design-but-not-my-list-how-to-care-for |
 |
| http://www.prettybutchlifts.com/2012/04/caring-for-extroverts.html |
Yeah... this was a kinda long and rambly blog... it's not very well organized but I just remembered that I have to go to the dentist in the morning, so I'm not going to go back and fix the organizational pattern. Cause I have reading that needs to happen and teeth to be checked in the morning.
Yesterday's word was tom-foolery. (I'm putting these at the bottom now so as to not start off so strangely.)
Climbing Mt. Everest
Yesterday's word was daft.
Cause I don't think blue hair is daft at all.
Too much tom-foolery this weekend... Not enough homework accomplishing.
The thing about short blogs is that there are so few words, it's nigh on guaranteed that someone will guess the word. If you spit at your computer screen, you'll probably hit it.
Go ahead... spit. I dare you.
I'm super tired... and my sickness might be coming back... either that or I just didn't take a nap today and I wasn't quite ready for that yet.
Vitamin C here I come!
And verily I shall retire unto my pallet. Which some people call a bed... and some people... mainly me- right now, call Mt Everest.
Seriously... it's so tall!
Cause I don't think blue hair is daft at all.
Too much tom-foolery this weekend... Not enough homework accomplishing.
The thing about short blogs is that there are so few words, it's nigh on guaranteed that someone will guess the word. If you spit at your computer screen, you'll probably hit it.
Go ahead... spit. I dare you.
I'm super tired... and my sickness might be coming back... either that or I just didn't take a nap today and I wasn't quite ready for that yet.
Vitamin C here I come!
And verily I shall retire unto my pallet. Which some people call a bed... and some people... mainly me- right now, call Mt Everest.
Seriously... it's so tall!
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Am I Blue?
Yesterday's word was frolic.
So a few weeks ago I came up with a bit of a daft idea... I've kinda been into the crazy hair color for a while now.... and I decided I really wanted blue hair... well not completely blue, but at least blue streaks... and I'm 29 and as we all know there are no more crazy hair colors allowed after 30. (What? That's the most arbitrary and random rule ever? Yeah, you are right it is.)
But seriously I can't have crazy hair forever. So today I went to the hair salon and the hairstylist said, "I was thinking a red ombré" (cause we talked about changing things up last time) and I said... what about blue??
And it just so happened that they had recently gotten a "permanent" blue hair dye. So new that they'd only experimented on the stylists in the salon, not any actual customers. And I'm told my hair is very healthy--enough that it can handle being bleached out on the ends... and it would have needed to be bleached out anyway for the red ombré....
So today I was a bit of a guinea pig.. So much so that all the stylists kept coming over to look at my hair/ooh and aw/clap their hands.
It's really subtle. You can't tell in low lighting and only barely in outside lighting (thought I did wash it again this evening in hopes of removing enough dye that it would lighten up/ be more noticeable... it will eventually, but I just want to hurry the process along.)
But still... I think I'm totally awesome now... I have blue hair.
PS I am feeling much better... either lots of sleep, food and Vitamin C works, or complaining about feeling sick works.
So a few weeks ago I came up with a bit of a daft idea... I've kinda been into the crazy hair color for a while now.... and I decided I really wanted blue hair... well not completely blue, but at least blue streaks... and I'm 29 and as we all know there are no more crazy hair colors allowed after 30. (What? That's the most arbitrary and random rule ever? Yeah, you are right it is.)
But seriously I can't have crazy hair forever. So today I went to the hair salon and the hairstylist said, "I was thinking a red ombré" (cause we talked about changing things up last time) and I said... what about blue??
And it just so happened that they had recently gotten a "permanent" blue hair dye. So new that they'd only experimented on the stylists in the salon, not any actual customers. And I'm told my hair is very healthy--enough that it can handle being bleached out on the ends... and it would have needed to be bleached out anyway for the red ombré....
So today I was a bit of a guinea pig.. So much so that all the stylists kept coming over to look at my hair/ooh and aw/clap their hands.
It's really subtle. You can't tell in low lighting and only barely in outside lighting (thought I did wash it again this evening in hopes of removing enough dye that it would lighten up/ be more noticeable... it will eventually, but I just want to hurry the process along.)
But still... I think I'm totally awesome now... I have blue hair.
 | ||||
| This picture actually makes the blue more noticeable than it is. |
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Sick, Sardines, and Storming
Yesterday's word was chancellor.
It's "Feed a cold, Starve a fever," right?
I've been doing that. Now granted, I've been doing it not because of the adage but because I've been absolutely starving all day... Like hollow-legged-teenage-boy-starving.
I've also drunk more fluids than I normally do in 2 days.
And I walked across campus in a monsoon sans umbrella.
But that has nothing to do with my throat and/or sinuses.
It's been a long time since I've been sick-- since teaching, I think.... Being around so many germs at school/ work probably isn't that great-- there's a downside!
Because it's been so long, I'm like super whiny about it. I mean, really, the only thing that's wrong with me is that my throat hurts and I constantly feel like there is something caught in the back of it and my face feels hot. Not so bad in the grand scheme, but I sure am complaining about it.
I got trapped in the library basement for a while today because of the crazy thunderstorm... I heard there were 68 mph straightline winds at one point. The lights flickered a few times and I was struck with the brilliant idea that if they went out we should play "Stuck-in-the-library Sardines."
I announced this excitedly and a guy sitting nearby definitely looked up, highly amused by the idea.
Seriously... the library is the best sardines game ever, just waiting to happen.
Then when they released us from library capture I walked across campus to get to my car. Halfway there I took off my shoes, cause they were my crocs and I was slipping around so much that I was going to twist an ankle...
Also-- I almost fell on the the steps in front of Carrington in my *bare feet.* That's how slippery that concrete is.
I was totally soaked.... but honestly by the time I'd crossed the road in my bare feet and walked through the parking lot in my bare feet I kinda just wanted to frolic in the rain (in my bare feet) a bit. I didn't. I just got in my automobile and drove home.
I came home and hung up my dress pants in the shower and changed into pjs. I was going to go to Art Walk tonight to listen to a creative writing showcase... but the second storm came through just when I would have needed to leave and I was feeling miserable, so I didn't. I'm sad cause I would have really liked to support the program and I was supposed to go for a class, too... but there are other options later and I think it's probably better this way... especially considering I fell asleep at 8 and slept till midnight...
I think I might be tired.
I really like my tattoo... I just wish there was a better way to show it off... of course, I'm totally sure that if it was in a more obvious place, I'd wish that I could hide it more conviently... never content. That's me!
Ok, not really.
It's "Feed a cold, Starve a fever," right?
I've been doing that. Now granted, I've been doing it not because of the adage but because I've been absolutely starving all day... Like hollow-legged-teenage-boy-starving.
I've also drunk more fluids than I normally do in 2 days.
And I walked across campus in a monsoon sans umbrella.
But that has nothing to do with my throat and/or sinuses.
It's been a long time since I've been sick-- since teaching, I think.... Being around so many germs at school/ work probably isn't that great-- there's a downside!
Because it's been so long, I'm like super whiny about it. I mean, really, the only thing that's wrong with me is that my throat hurts and I constantly feel like there is something caught in the back of it and my face feels hot. Not so bad in the grand scheme, but I sure am complaining about it.
I got trapped in the library basement for a while today because of the crazy thunderstorm... I heard there were 68 mph straightline winds at one point. The lights flickered a few times and I was struck with the brilliant idea that if they went out we should play "Stuck-in-the-library Sardines."
I announced this excitedly and a guy sitting nearby definitely looked up, highly amused by the idea.
Seriously... the library is the best sardines game ever, just waiting to happen.
Then when they released us from library capture I walked across campus to get to my car. Halfway there I took off my shoes, cause they were my crocs and I was slipping around so much that I was going to twist an ankle...
Also-- I almost fell on the the steps in front of Carrington in my *bare feet.* That's how slippery that concrete is.
I was totally soaked.... but honestly by the time I'd crossed the road in my bare feet and walked through the parking lot in my bare feet I kinda just wanted to frolic in the rain (in my bare feet) a bit. I didn't. I just got in my automobile and drove home.
I came home and hung up my dress pants in the shower and changed into pjs. I was going to go to Art Walk tonight to listen to a creative writing showcase... but the second storm came through just when I would have needed to leave and I was feeling miserable, so I didn't. I'm sad cause I would have really liked to support the program and I was supposed to go for a class, too... but there are other options later and I think it's probably better this way... especially considering I fell asleep at 8 and slept till midnight...
I think I might be tired.
I really like my tattoo... I just wish there was a better way to show it off... of course, I'm totally sure that if it was in a more obvious place, I'd wish that I could hide it more conviently... never content. That's me!
Ok, not really.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Don't Write Me Off Just Yet
Yesterday's word was disgorge.
You know who one of my newest favorite people is?
The guy in my Form and Theory class who will come in, quote a line from this really dense, difficult to get through stuff we are reading and then say, "What is he saying there? That doesn't mean anything. Those are barely words!"
Here's to you, Joe. I hereby appoint you the Chancellor of Form and Theory. *raises my mug of tea* Where everyone else (myself included) try to nod sagely and pretend we understand when we actually don't, you just lay out the honesty. It's especially appreciated when certain others in the class are pompous windbags.... but I digress. I'm happy that my professors know my name, and I feel safe both lauding and disparaging my compatriots, cause I don't think they will ever read this. The internet, she is a wide and wondrous place.
I think I am getting sick. My throat has hurt all day... I'm hoping that I'm not, though... being sick is absolutely no fun. I'm gonna drink my hot tea and feel better in the morning. Right, guys?
... Hey, it's worked before.
No brilliant insights from Shakespeare tonight, but a great appreciation for having a friend in my creative writing class... It's much easier to make yourself vulnerable to spectacular failure when you have a friend who is on your side and will tell you it's good, regardless.
In other news I really feel like I need to watch Music and Lyrics this weekend... I love that movie... a lot.
**** Don't listen if you haven't watched the movie and you think you might.****
You know who one of my newest favorite people is?
The guy in my Form and Theory class who will come in, quote a line from this really dense, difficult to get through stuff we are reading and then say, "What is he saying there? That doesn't mean anything. Those are barely words!"
Here's to you, Joe. I hereby appoint you the Chancellor of Form and Theory. *raises my mug of tea* Where everyone else (myself included) try to nod sagely and pretend we understand when we actually don't, you just lay out the honesty. It's especially appreciated when certain others in the class are pompous windbags.... but I digress. I'm happy that my professors know my name, and I feel safe both lauding and disparaging my compatriots, cause I don't think they will ever read this. The internet, she is a wide and wondrous place.
I think I am getting sick. My throat has hurt all day... I'm hoping that I'm not, though... being sick is absolutely no fun. I'm gonna drink my hot tea and feel better in the morning. Right, guys?
... Hey, it's worked before.
No brilliant insights from Shakespeare tonight, but a great appreciation for having a friend in my creative writing class... It's much easier to make yourself vulnerable to spectacular failure when you have a friend who is on your side and will tell you it's good, regardless.
In other news I really feel like I need to watch Music and Lyrics this weekend... I love that movie... a lot.
**** Don't listen if you haven't watched the movie and you think you might.****
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Ennui
Yesterday's word was Empress.
So it has come to this.
I'm feeling a vauge sense of ennui.
Not sure if it is all the Shakespeare I've been reading, or the very dense material for Form and Theory that my mind, even at this very moment, is wishing to disgorge in a riotous mass of mucas-y word vomit because it simply can't digest it. Or just the fact that I don't see near as much of my friends as I've been wont to during the summer.
Or maybe it's because my face feels subtly hot and my throat as a far-away sort of tickle in the back.
Nothing is wrong.
I still love my GA-ship and I'm still excited about classes. I still have amazing friends and I still have a very good life.
My nails are pink and sparkly.
I mean really there is very little not to love.
But here I sit, all melancholy-y.
I think that bed might be the best solution, but then I wonder why? What will I do with my morning that I can't do now?
The answer, of course, is nothing. But maybe I'll try anyway. Then you at least won't have to read a lengthy discourse on my mental state.
I can save you that much.
So it has come to this.
I'm feeling a vauge sense of ennui.
Not sure if it is all the Shakespeare I've been reading, or the very dense material for Form and Theory that my mind, even at this very moment, is wishing to disgorge in a riotous mass of mucas-y word vomit because it simply can't digest it. Or just the fact that I don't see near as much of my friends as I've been wont to during the summer.
Or maybe it's because my face feels subtly hot and my throat as a far-away sort of tickle in the back.
Nothing is wrong.
I still love my GA-ship and I'm still excited about classes. I still have amazing friends and I still have a very good life.
My nails are pink and sparkly.
I mean really there is very little not to love.
But here I sit, all melancholy-y.
I think that bed might be the best solution, but then I wonder why? What will I do with my morning that I can't do now?
The answer, of course, is nothing. But maybe I'll try anyway. Then you at least won't have to read a lengthy discourse on my mental state.
I can save you that much.
Why I need a time machine
Yesterday's word was nemesis. "What did I just do? I said what if I lose this power. Oh no. I had the power, then I lost it. Had it then I lost it."
So what supercalifragilisticexpialidocious things did you do as a three year old?
When I was three I'm pretty sure I was using my mom's necklaces to pretend I was the Childlike Empress (from the Neverending Story) in the mirror.... meanwhile this kid is memorizing and reciting poetry better than most adults I know.
I need a time machine to tell my 3-year old self to take that trumped-up amulet off my head and start reading some poetry.
And, "Don't give me that look, kid! I don't care if you can't read yet! Start learning your letters!!"
So what supercalifragilisticexpialidocious things did you do as a three year old?
When I was three I'm pretty sure I was using my mom's necklaces to pretend I was the Childlike Empress (from the Neverending Story) in the mirror.... meanwhile this kid is memorizing and reciting poetry better than most adults I know.
Litany
By Billy Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
—Jacques Crickillon
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker,
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general’s head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the treesYeah...
and the blind woman’s tea cup.
But don’t worry, I’m not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and—somehow—the wine.
I need a time machine to tell my 3-year old self to take that trumped-up amulet off my head and start reading some poetry.
And, "Don't give me that look, kid! I don't care if you can't read yet! Start learning your letters!!"
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A Rave... not the dancing kind.
Yesterday's word of the day was dauntless(ly). Wha ha ha ha! Such power is mine! ...Oh no, what if I lose this power!?
So as you may or may not know, Pixelscopic (the company that I work for sometimes and the guys who are my friends) got back this evening from PAX. They debuted their game (currently in development) Delver's Drop there. And I just wanted to say how flipping amazing they are.
PAX went really well. Ryan just came by (I was checking in on his house/saving his mail from Hurricane Isaac) and he told me a few stories about it... and I'm just full to bursting with pride and positive thoughts and excitement for them.
They work really hard, those guys.
First, they work on the video games that pay the bills (like the Moshi Monster games I've worked on.) And then on top of that, whenever they can find a free moment, they work on their own games. And "a free moment" normally means ridiculous hours or staying up all night or missing out on family time.
Yes, it helps that they are all so talented at what they do, but that doesn't lessen the crazy amount of work they are putting in. I so admire/respect how relentlessly they push towards their real goal while constantly having to be sidetracked by "paying" projects.
Now eventually they are going to get a game or two finished that they've developed from start to finish. I have no doubt that they will be insanely successful and make millions (at which time they should totally hire me as their permanent copy-writer.) There is not a doubt in my mind that fame and fortune await them, and I'm just proud and happy to be able to say that they are my friends. That I knew them when. That I'm totally a fangirl.
Sweet story:
A father sent Ryan a message. His little girl was at PAX and got one of their buttons. She put it on her hat, but then she lost her hat at PAX. The little girl was very upset by the loss of her button with the rogue character on it, so her dad asked if he could buy a button from them. Ryan is planning on sending a signed print of the character as well as all of the buttons.
Seriously.
Seriously.
I don't understand how you could be nemesis with people like that. *coughKaracough*
So as you may or may not know, Pixelscopic (the company that I work for sometimes and the guys who are my friends) got back this evening from PAX. They debuted their game (currently in development) Delver's Drop there. And I just wanted to say how flipping amazing they are.
PAX went really well. Ryan just came by (I was checking in on his house/saving his mail from Hurricane Isaac) and he told me a few stories about it... and I'm just full to bursting with pride and positive thoughts and excitement for them.
They work really hard, those guys.
First, they work on the video games that pay the bills (like the Moshi Monster games I've worked on.) And then on top of that, whenever they can find a free moment, they work on their own games. And "a free moment" normally means ridiculous hours or staying up all night or missing out on family time.
Yes, it helps that they are all so talented at what they do, but that doesn't lessen the crazy amount of work they are putting in. I so admire/respect how relentlessly they push towards their real goal while constantly having to be sidetracked by "paying" projects.
Now eventually they are going to get a game or two finished that they've developed from start to finish. I have no doubt that they will be insanely successful and make millions (at which time they should totally hire me as their permanent copy-writer.) There is not a doubt in my mind that fame and fortune await them, and I'm just proud and happy to be able to say that they are my friends. That I knew them when. That I'm totally a fangirl.
Sweet story:
A father sent Ryan a message. His little girl was at PAX and got one of their buttons. She put it on her hat, but then she lost her hat at PAX. The little girl was very upset by the loss of her button with the rogue character on it, so her dad asked if he could buy a button from them. Ryan is planning on sending a signed print of the character as well as all of the buttons.
 |
| Yes, the self-same buttons I now have copies of gracing my laptop bag. |
Seriously.
Seriously.
I don't understand how you could be nemesis with people like that. *coughKaracough*
Monday, September 3, 2012
Critique
Yesterday's word was promenade. Rhonda apparently started drinking the psychic Kool-aid.
I've just spent hours critiquing three fellow classmates' stories for advanced writing... Hours on something that's entirely subjective and is quite possibly going to be glanced over and disregarded because there is so much blue ink all over the page... or (for the one that I thought was really good) disregarded because there isn't that much... and he won't even really understand how much better I really thought his writing was, because he won't know how much ink I use on other people's stories.
The bases are all good- or at least acceptable. But in a critique all I really know to do is alter wording and phrasing as I would like for it to be, and hope that I don't horrendously insult someone in the process. I don't want to insult anyone.
It's kinda weird that the story I thought was the best done might be the one I liked the the least.
But then again I think it is the one that I would label as the most "literary." You see, I don't really like analyzing literature. I want to write it, and I'm fine with someone else analyzing what I write, but the fun for me is in the creation, not in the search for meaning. So I enjoy creating a story for class and I really appreciate the class that's telling me how/what people do when they create, but I think I'd rather just sit down with the author and ask what they were trying to say with their writing than approach a work with a certain criticism style and then extrapolate until I get the meaning I want.
But then I'd never be given those brilliant insights like the other night in Shakespeare...
It's just not a very peaceful life, is it? Dauntlessly trying to figure out the meaning hidden not one, not two, not three levels deep, but 20 levels down. And I have to wonder if the artist even meant for there to be these 20 levels of meaning or if, like me, they were just writing. They were just releasing the things scrambled up inside their head that needed release.
Will I find out after my work is critiqued that I'm racist, or sexist, or pretentious?
If I ever get a major publishing deal will I find out that my characters who I love are all these terrible archetypes of inaction?
What meaning am I tucking away like a huge pencil in one of those Highlights hidden picture puzzles - obvious to everyone but me.
I've been thinking a lot about the things in yourself that are so clear to the rest of the world and so surprising when brought to your attention.
I'm not sure that I think it's a bad thing that I can still surprise myself.
I've just spent hours critiquing three fellow classmates' stories for advanced writing... Hours on something that's entirely subjective and is quite possibly going to be glanced over and disregarded because there is so much blue ink all over the page... or (for the one that I thought was really good) disregarded because there isn't that much... and he won't even really understand how much better I really thought his writing was, because he won't know how much ink I use on other people's stories.
The bases are all good- or at least acceptable. But in a critique all I really know to do is alter wording and phrasing as I would like for it to be, and hope that I don't horrendously insult someone in the process. I don't want to insult anyone.
It's kinda weird that the story I thought was the best done might be the one I liked the the least.
But then again I think it is the one that I would label as the most "literary." You see, I don't really like analyzing literature. I want to write it, and I'm fine with someone else analyzing what I write, but the fun for me is in the creation, not in the search for meaning. So I enjoy creating a story for class and I really appreciate the class that's telling me how/what people do when they create, but I think I'd rather just sit down with the author and ask what they were trying to say with their writing than approach a work with a certain criticism style and then extrapolate until I get the meaning I want.
But then I'd never be given those brilliant insights like the other night in Shakespeare...
It's just not a very peaceful life, is it? Dauntlessly trying to figure out the meaning hidden not one, not two, not three levels deep, but 20 levels down. And I have to wonder if the artist even meant for there to be these 20 levels of meaning or if, like me, they were just writing. They were just releasing the things scrambled up inside their head that needed release.
Will I find out after my work is critiqued that I'm racist, or sexist, or pretentious?
If I ever get a major publishing deal will I find out that my characters who I love are all these terrible archetypes of inaction?
What meaning am I tucking away like a huge pencil in one of those Highlights hidden picture puzzles - obvious to everyone but me.
I've been thinking a lot about the things in yourself that are so clear to the rest of the world and so surprising when brought to your attention.
I'm not sure that I think it's a bad thing that I can still surprise myself.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Thoughts on Promenade
Yesterday's word was adroitly. Someone's on fire!
I was terrible today. I didn't do a lick of homework. Ok I read one short story, from which I would like to modify my previous statement: Creative writers write about death and the sexual molestation of children... I think I'm glad I'm one of the death-ers.
But that little bit was the only homework I did. As for the rest of the day-- I slept till noon (went to bed at 3 so it's not as bad as it sounds.) I wrote three semi-lengthy e-mails and this blog post. I talked to Kara on the phone for an hour and a half. I edited a story... maybe for the last time? (That might actually turn out to be homework, not sure yet.) I went and ate wings with friends and then played a game at Starbucks...
So tomorrow I'm declaring to be Un-fun Sunday. I can go to church and to lunch, but after lunch I have to go home and work on things for class... I could really get in the weeds with Shakespeare if I try to let myself coast any longer.
Plus, I honestly *want* to do my homework... I just keep getting distracted... And I did need to see some friends... The problem with job/school/homework is that my social life gets a little more smushed than I've been used to. This is why all my friends and I should get together and not talk to each other while we work in one big room.
I miss the Seminar Room at Scholars.
I miss the dorms in general... it was so easy to find someone who was either free or seeking the same length of procrastination that you were... and it was also easy to fall into long meandering conversations about life and who you are and who you were and the state of the universe... I don't have enough of those conversations anymore.
There simply is not enough just sitting around and talking in my life these days...
I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous considering I spend 9 hours per week in a classroom, but it is different.
And yes, I'm aware that I just said all my friends needed to get together in a room and not talk and then complained about the lack of conversations in my life... sometimes I think I'm more ok with the paradoxical nature of myself than I should be.
I was terrible today. I didn't do a lick of homework. Ok I read one short story, from which I would like to modify my previous statement: Creative writers write about death and the sexual molestation of children... I think I'm glad I'm one of the death-ers.
But that little bit was the only homework I did. As for the rest of the day-- I slept till noon (went to bed at 3 so it's not as bad as it sounds.) I wrote three semi-lengthy e-mails and this blog post. I talked to Kara on the phone for an hour and a half. I edited a story... maybe for the last time? (That might actually turn out to be homework, not sure yet.) I went and ate wings with friends and then played a game at Starbucks...
So tomorrow I'm declaring to be Un-fun Sunday. I can go to church and to lunch, but after lunch I have to go home and work on things for class... I could really get in the weeds with Shakespeare if I try to let myself coast any longer.
Plus, I honestly *want* to do my homework... I just keep getting distracted... And I did need to see some friends... The problem with job/school/homework is that my social life gets a little more smushed than I've been used to. This is why all my friends and I should get together and not talk to each other while we work in one big room.
I miss the Seminar Room at Scholars.
I miss the dorms in general... it was so easy to find someone who was either free or seeking the same length of procrastination that you were... and it was also easy to fall into long meandering conversations about life and who you are and who you were and the state of the universe... I don't have enough of those conversations anymore.
There simply is not enough just sitting around and talking in my life these days...
I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous considering I spend 9 hours per week in a classroom, but it is different.
And yes, I'm aware that I just said all my friends needed to get together in a room and not talk and then complained about the lack of conversations in my life... sometimes I think I'm more ok with the paradoxical nature of myself than I should be.
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