Hello Hello! I'm still here. I don't know if you are, though. Ah well. I don't take blogging seriously, like some people I've met. I believe I'm going to consider this my training blog, so that when I'm a published writer and people actually care what I have to say, then I'll know how to say things worth saying.
Blah blah blah aside, I'm doing better and worse on the writing front. Worse, because I haven't written anything of significance in...well, I'm not even sure. Since I decided to finally put that nameless Baleful Polymorph that I'd been working on since high school out of its misery and be DONE WITH IT FOR REAL THIS TIME. I am now free to work on my multitude of side stories that are all so much more interesting!
...
...
You know, despite being a hideous monster with a broken plot that had gone through so many versions it didn't even know what it was anymore...I don't really feel the same sort of dedication for anything else. Maybe it was just my age, and now I realize it was crap, I'm hard pressed to come up with something new that isn't. At this point I'm tempted to take it out of storage, dust off the pieces, and see if there's anything I can stitch together. But I can't. It's dead. As it should be and it's time to move on.
I did say I was doing better, though, and here's why: I'm taking Creative Writing. Yep. I displaced some poor Creative Writing major who won't be able to take any actual CW classes for another semester. Eh. They have so many generals and literature components they won't really fall behind. It seems that a lot of the people in that class aren't CW majors either, so it's a nice laid-back atmosphere for me to finally rid myself of this damn phobia.
For those who haven't been following, I have an absolute terror of sharing my writing with other people - what I like to term "page fright." What I noticed the first time I had to read a poem in that class, however, is that it was mostly physiological. I was twitchy and tense and kept fidgeting with a yo-yo while I took deep breaths and tried to keep my vision from blurring. You know, like I was on the verge of a panic attack. Only I wasn't actually scared. It was weird. And they liked my poem. Better than some of the others. A lot of the others. I'm not going to say there are some bad writers in that class, but some are better than others.
So I think I'll be able to kick this habit, since it seems to be a Pavlovian reflex more than an emotional response. Problems: It's exhausting. Writing a poem every week. Reading twenty poems a week. What was I thinking? I'm a prose writer. I'm sick of poetry, and we're not even halfway through the poetry unit. There's only one short story required for the class, and - best part - the professor will not accept fantasy.
Now, if his rationale had been that traditional High Fantasy requires a great deal of worldbuilding that does not work well in short works - okay. I can accept that. But no, he just doesn't like fantasy because he thinks it's crap. This guy, by the way, writes crime fiction. Murder mystery detective stories. Room to judge? I don't think so. He also refuses trashy paranormal romance - but you know that several girls are going to write trashy mundane romances anyway.
Does it matter if a stupid girl is in love with a stupid angsty hipster or a stupid angsty vampire? At least if there's a vampire, you know that someone's going to bleed eventually. And you know, just bcause a story is a paranormal romance does not mean it has to be trashy - people just write with that assumption. The thing is, there are some good mundane stories about lovers - The Time-Traveller's Wife, The Gargoyle - okay, I lied when I said mundane. But this just proves the point I was going to make anyway! Fantastical elements do not automatically make a story crap! It is how you use them that determines the quality of your story.
Better stop now, I'm rambling. I shall return anon!
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Friday, February 10, 2012
Sunday, December 4, 2011
What Should Theater Look Like and What Should Theater Be About?
Above are the two driving questions for my Theater History class that I am currently taking for a fine arts GE. It's not that bad of a class, even though the professor has a tendency to analyze things for us and not encourage discussion and argument against her; I'm bored, but that's why I crochet. No, the problem arises when we do three plays in a row about race relations, and that is the sum total of our look at American theater. See, apparently "being American" means what race you are and how you're being oppressed.
There is a quote from August Wilson which I would like to paraphrase and dispute. He argued against colorblind casting, claiming that it was devaluing African-American identity, and that instead there should be more plays written by blacks about blacks. That way, black people would learn to respect their black identity.
While I respect the sentiment, and can agree it was probably appropriate for the times, I would like to bring up one point - namely, myself. Am I even going to see the German-Chinese lesbian identity validated on the stage or in print? Probably not. The bigger question for me, though, is that if I did find a story that was not my own about a German-Chinese lesbian in America, would it mean anything to me? Would that character really have anything to do with me? Would this hypothetical character be obsessed with languages? Would she be a ruthless literary critic? A laconic feminist? Would she have struggles with identity and independence that have nothing to do with her race or sexuality?
I don't think so. I think that I am more than my race, ethnicity, and sexuality.
It bothers me when people try to portray themselves and their characters solely as representations of their race. Yes, more racial and cultural awareness is good, but the whole purpose of racial inclusion is to show that people who aren't white Christian heterosexual able-bodied males are people too. That does not happen if your black character is a cardboard cutout of a black person, and not a fully developed person with dark skin and African heritage.
Compare the last two plays we had to read: "Zoot Suit" and "Cloud Nine." "Zoot Suit" bored and frustrated me. It is a whiny minority play, about Mexican-Americans in the 1940's bitching about how they're being oppressed and thrown in jail just because they're Mexican. There is one line that goes something like "You just don't understand the Chicano people." To which I reply "No, I don't, because I haven't seen any of your culture or personality, I'm just hearing how you're discriminated against. I don't understand you any better than I did before."
Now, "Cloud Nine" focuses more on gender and sexuality than race, though there is a small racial component. What "Cloud Nine" does is crossgender casting - Betty is played by a man, Edward is played by a woman; also, the black servant is played by a white man. This shows how gender (and race) roles are just that - roles that we play. It questions the very institutions. That is so much more interesting and thought-provoking than "Look at us! We're being oppressed!" Is it not?
There is a quote from August Wilson which I would like to paraphrase and dispute. He argued against colorblind casting, claiming that it was devaluing African-American identity, and that instead there should be more plays written by blacks about blacks. That way, black people would learn to respect their black identity.
While I respect the sentiment, and can agree it was probably appropriate for the times, I would like to bring up one point - namely, myself. Am I even going to see the German-Chinese lesbian identity validated on the stage or in print? Probably not. The bigger question for me, though, is that if I did find a story that was not my own about a German-Chinese lesbian in America, would it mean anything to me? Would that character really have anything to do with me? Would this hypothetical character be obsessed with languages? Would she be a ruthless literary critic? A laconic feminist? Would she have struggles with identity and independence that have nothing to do with her race or sexuality?
I don't think so. I think that I am more than my race, ethnicity, and sexuality.
It bothers me when people try to portray themselves and their characters solely as representations of their race. Yes, more racial and cultural awareness is good, but the whole purpose of racial inclusion is to show that people who aren't white Christian heterosexual able-bodied males are people too. That does not happen if your black character is a cardboard cutout of a black person, and not a fully developed person with dark skin and African heritage.
Compare the last two plays we had to read: "Zoot Suit" and "Cloud Nine." "Zoot Suit" bored and frustrated me. It is a whiny minority play, about Mexican-Americans in the 1940's bitching about how they're being oppressed and thrown in jail just because they're Mexican. There is one line that goes something like "You just don't understand the Chicano people." To which I reply "No, I don't, because I haven't seen any of your culture or personality, I'm just hearing how you're discriminated against. I don't understand you any better than I did before."
Now, "Cloud Nine" focuses more on gender and sexuality than race, though there is a small racial component. What "Cloud Nine" does is crossgender casting - Betty is played by a man, Edward is played by a woman; also, the black servant is played by a white man. This shows how gender (and race) roles are just that - roles that we play. It questions the very institutions. That is so much more interesting and thought-provoking than "Look at us! We're being oppressed!" Is it not?
Monday, September 26, 2011
Corchet! Yay!
So, this semester I'm working on killing off some of my GE's, meaning that I am taking several classes that are fairly easy and fairly boring. And what do we do when we are bored in class?
The above scarf was made with Red Heart Super Soft yarn in teal, using a size I hook. Pattern: ch 22, *dc in third ch from hook, hdc in same loop; skip one st, repeat from * to end, dc. Ch. 2, turn.
This one was made from Bernat Mosaic Calypso (gotta love yarn names). With size H hook, ch 251, sc across, rinse, repeat. It's my first scarf worked lengthwise, and I liked it so much I started a similar one with a different color but the same type of yarn.
For the hat, I adapted this pattern to a size J hook and LionBrand Vanna's Choice (in Wildberry). Ch 64 instead of 46, and work 10 rows of the rib pattern instead of 8.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Responsibility
My life in isolation in Scheissburg drove me over the edge, but I think it is fair to say that I had been pushed to the edge by the previous semester. Long story and confidential events shortened, I became Mark from the musical Rent. I watched my best buddy Roger get his heart torn apart by Mimi (or perhaps he would be Benny by now), and dealt with Maureen's craziness on the side. I watched my world and my friends sink into hell, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it, not even make a stupid movie. Mark is a really sucky character to be. He doesn't actually do anything. Just stands around and mopes while everyone deals with crap. He doesn't even affect anything. He doesn't end up with a lover. FML.
The play neglects to mention, however, just how much it hurts to be in that situation. To simultaneously be certain there is nothing you can do and still have the urge to fix everything. Torn apart, much?
In summary, my two resolutions for this year are: 1. Stop being afraid of things that won't kill me (did I mention that already?) and 2. Don't make things my problem that aren't. Because I came to the realization that I can't take care of anyone else if I can't take care of myself.
So now that we're in the second act, Maureen is having trouble with Joanne, and I can tell him what we all know he needs to do. I can assure him a thousand times over that yes, people are going to be upset with him, but we as his friends will never abandon him. But when it comes right down to it, this is something he can only do himself.
Last fall got to the point where I wanted to confront Mimi/Benny and have a very frank conversation with him about my take on what was going on. That did not happen until after it was essentially too late. Now, I'm choking off the impulse to do the same with Joanne. She barely knows me. And yet...I know she's about to go through hell. A part of me thinks I could say something, do something, to make it easier. So where do I draw the line? Is she my problem, or isn't she? Do I keep from getting involved, or am I already involved?
What is going to happen is that I won't say anything unless she approaches me. Then all bets are off. This is a very delicate situation, and any direct interference from me could very easily swing things the wrong way. So Mark, get thee behind thy camera where you belong. The best thing I can do now is call encouragement as the actors play their parts. For I am an actor too, and I have my own parts to play.
How did we get here? How the hell - ?
Pan left. Close on the steeple of the church...
Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor
Of memory?
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close up
Of the 3D Imax of my mind?...
Why am I the witness?
And when I capture it on film?
Will it mean that it's the end, and I'm alone?
The play neglects to mention, however, just how much it hurts to be in that situation. To simultaneously be certain there is nothing you can do and still have the urge to fix everything. Torn apart, much?
In summary, my two resolutions for this year are: 1. Stop being afraid of things that won't kill me (did I mention that already?) and 2. Don't make things my problem that aren't. Because I came to the realization that I can't take care of anyone else if I can't take care of myself.
So now that we're in the second act, Maureen is having trouble with Joanne, and I can tell him what we all know he needs to do. I can assure him a thousand times over that yes, people are going to be upset with him, but we as his friends will never abandon him. But when it comes right down to it, this is something he can only do himself.
Last fall got to the point where I wanted to confront Mimi/Benny and have a very frank conversation with him about my take on what was going on. That did not happen until after it was essentially too late. Now, I'm choking off the impulse to do the same with Joanne. She barely knows me. And yet...I know she's about to go through hell. A part of me thinks I could say something, do something, to make it easier. So where do I draw the line? Is she my problem, or isn't she? Do I keep from getting involved, or am I already involved?
What is going to happen is that I won't say anything unless she approaches me. Then all bets are off. This is a very delicate situation, and any direct interference from me could very easily swing things the wrong way. So Mark, get thee behind thy camera where you belong. The best thing I can do now is call encouragement as the actors play their parts. For I am an actor too, and I have my own parts to play.
How did we get here? How the hell - ?
Pan left. Close on the steeple of the church...
Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor
Of memory?
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close up
Of the 3D Imax of my mind?...
Why am I the witness?
And when I capture it on film?
Will it mean that it's the end, and I'm alone?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Well, I'm Still Alive
Life has just been rushing by so fast, I hardly have time to sit down and catch my breath. Classes have started up, and I just dropped a class for the first time. Yay! Semantics and Pragmatics is exactly as dry and pointless as it sounds. So now I can concentrate on "Why the hell am I taking Racquetball?" and "Why the hell am I reading these pretentious artsy plays?"
There's a temporary lull, just before all the orgs start up. Since I dropped English, I might do German Club after all (might, mind you). But since I'm coaching fencing, and technically have some sort of officer position in Outloud (the LGBTQA oh screw political correctness, the gay group on campus), I really don't want to stretch myself too thin like I did last fall.
Fortunately, drama has so far been kept at a minimum. There is a minor issue with a Jesus-freak who is in and out of the closet like a jack-in-the-box, but he is not my problem, and I will not let him become my problem. I have two resolutions for this year. One is to not make things my problem that aren't, because it doesn't help and just stresses me out. The other is to stop being afraid of things that won't kill me, namely (I finally thought of name, aren't I special) page fright.
I haven't been writing a lot lately. I don't know why. I don't really feel inspired. To keep in shape, I've been writing a page a day of whatever comes into my head (and no, you can't see any, yes that means you). Perhaps if I feel daring I might post some of the better samples. Some of them seem to be connected, leading to intriguing possibilities. I'll probably have something ready to go for NaNoWriMo in November. It's like my normal mood swings (not my 8-month depressive stint) where I know I'll swing back eventually. Sooner or later another story will come.
There's a temporary lull, just before all the orgs start up. Since I dropped English, I might do German Club after all (might, mind you). But since I'm coaching fencing, and technically have some sort of officer position in Outloud (the LGBTQA oh screw political correctness, the gay group on campus), I really don't want to stretch myself too thin like I did last fall.
Fortunately, drama has so far been kept at a minimum. There is a minor issue with a Jesus-freak who is in and out of the closet like a jack-in-the-box, but he is not my problem, and I will not let him become my problem. I have two resolutions for this year. One is to not make things my problem that aren't, because it doesn't help and just stresses me out. The other is to stop being afraid of things that won't kill me, namely (I finally thought of name, aren't I special) page fright.
I haven't been writing a lot lately. I don't know why. I don't really feel inspired. To keep in shape, I've been writing a page a day of whatever comes into my head (and no, you can't see any, yes that means you). Perhaps if I feel daring I might post some of the better samples. Some of them seem to be connected, leading to intriguing possibilities. I'll probably have something ready to go for NaNoWriMo in November. It's like my normal mood swings (not my 8-month depressive stint) where I know I'll swing back eventually. Sooner or later another story will come.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Was ist Literatur?
What is Literature?
What kind of stupid question is that?
This is why I do not like literature classes. I do like reading, and analyzing, and asking questions about texts. The problem is that sometimes people get a bit carried away with regards to asking questions. You are only supposed to ask them when you actually want an answer - and when you have something to gain from the answer.
Literature is just a word; and like every word, it has several meanings and shades of meaning. For instance, it is often thought of as 1) what pretentious old academics call their favorite books (or the books they want you to think are their favorites), but anyone who works with it in depth usually takes the broader definition of 2) any and all written art. A colloquial meaning, and the technical meaning. No need for a philosopher; this is a job for a linguist.
I do not care if "a book is the ax for the frozen sea inside us" (Kafka). I do not care if the goal of art is "to capture this world in such a way as to show how it is, but as though it had its source in human freedom" (Sartre). All I know is that I need books the way I need food, and that if I don't write, I will die. And that is enough of an answer for me.
What kind of stupid question is that?
This is why I do not like literature classes. I do like reading, and analyzing, and asking questions about texts. The problem is that sometimes people get a bit carried away with regards to asking questions. You are only supposed to ask them when you actually want an answer - and when you have something to gain from the answer.
Literature is just a word; and like every word, it has several meanings and shades of meaning. For instance, it is often thought of as 1) what pretentious old academics call their favorite books (or the books they want you to think are their favorites), but anyone who works with it in depth usually takes the broader definition of 2) any and all written art. A colloquial meaning, and the technical meaning. No need for a philosopher; this is a job for a linguist.
I do not care if "a book is the ax for the frozen sea inside us" (Kafka). I do not care if the goal of art is "to capture this world in such a way as to show how it is, but as though it had its source in human freedom" (Sartre). All I know is that I need books the way I need food, and that if I don't write, I will die. And that is enough of an answer for me.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The German Cult
Those who have ever taken a German class will know exactly what I am talking about. For those who haven't, I will do my best to explain.
People who study German are a minority. Therefore, every time you get a large group of them together, there is an instant bond. It doesn't matter if you have anything in common outside of German, or if you have entirely conflicting personalities. There's still a sense of recognition, and a basic respect.
A German class will invariably come up with its own inside jokes. "Gebiesten," happened in my high school (I have the T-shirt to prove it), "Deutsches L" is a big one at my college, and "...oder?" seems to be the Steven's Point catchphrase.
Now here's what sucks about the study abroad program:
The students in my class come from all over the world: Taiwan, Cameroon, Saudi Arabia, China, Sri Lanka, just to name a few. They are here in this language course in order to take this monster of a test (The DSH - Imagine the ACT/SAT in German without bubbles. I miss bubbles.) that they need in order to study at a German university - presumably to get a better education than they could in there homeland. The Americans, on the other hand, are in the language course because that is where our program puts us. We are here in Germany for fun, to experience German culture, and because we have sold our souls to ther German language. The other foreigners are merely selling their bodies and minds, and don't understand why we would learn this ridiculous language just for fun. Therefore, we are not meshing into a true German cult, and that saddens me.
It is true that learning German is difficult, but so is learning any other language. In fact, for native English-speakers, German is one of the easier languages to learn, being part of the same family. The myth that Spanish is easy is quickly dispelled by the multitude of irregular verb stems, some of which barely resemble the original verb.
It is also a commonly held opinion that German sounds ugly. Personally, I think it's sexy. No, really. It has a deeper tone and a soothing rhythm, compared to English. Spanish, Italian, French, just sound shrill and agitated. Although in my class, the woman from Hungary would get my vote for the coolest accent. It just sounds so sweet and musical.
For me, German is also a way to get in touch with my roots - I'm half German, as I may have mentioned. Many Midwesterners have German heritage, and it is not uncommon to meet ones who try to show off and say "I took two years of German in high school - but I don't remember any of it except Guten Tag and Scheisse." These are the ones who managed to escape the German cult before they signed their souls away - or rather, the souls who were not strong enough to make it all the way to the end. Or, you know, decided on a more practical path of study.
It is true that German is not a highly marketable skill. Yes, Germany is important in the business world, but most Germans speak English and have been learning it since grade school, which makes an American trying to learn German in college almost redundant. Almost all of the German cultists have a second "career" major, German fulfilling the university's ridiculous requirement of needing more than one field of study, or simply for pure enjoyment. That is another thing that sets us apart from the students of Spanish or Chinese or Computer Programming. We are not suffering through this in order to make a lot of money further down the road. We are here by choice, because to some degree, all of us have fallen in love with the German language.
And that is what sets us apart from the rest of the class.
Please note that I am using the word "cult" in a humorous and/or metaphorical sense. We do not sacrifice kittens at midnight. Though we are secretly plotting world domination.
That was also a joke. It wouldn't be a secret if I told.
People who study German are a minority. Therefore, every time you get a large group of them together, there is an instant bond. It doesn't matter if you have anything in common outside of German, or if you have entirely conflicting personalities. There's still a sense of recognition, and a basic respect.
A German class will invariably come up with its own inside jokes. "Gebiesten," happened in my high school (I have the T-shirt to prove it), "Deutsches L" is a big one at my college, and "...oder?" seems to be the Steven's Point catchphrase.
Now here's what sucks about the study abroad program:
The students in my class come from all over the world: Taiwan, Cameroon, Saudi Arabia, China, Sri Lanka, just to name a few. They are here in this language course in order to take this monster of a test (The DSH - Imagine the ACT/SAT in German without bubbles. I miss bubbles.) that they need in order to study at a German university - presumably to get a better education than they could in there homeland. The Americans, on the other hand, are in the language course because that is where our program puts us. We are here in Germany for fun, to experience German culture, and because we have sold our souls to ther German language. The other foreigners are merely selling their bodies and minds, and don't understand why we would learn this ridiculous language just for fun. Therefore, we are not meshing into a true German cult, and that saddens me.
It is true that learning German is difficult, but so is learning any other language. In fact, for native English-speakers, German is one of the easier languages to learn, being part of the same family. The myth that Spanish is easy is quickly dispelled by the multitude of irregular verb stems, some of which barely resemble the original verb.
It is also a commonly held opinion that German sounds ugly. Personally, I think it's sexy. No, really. It has a deeper tone and a soothing rhythm, compared to English. Spanish, Italian, French, just sound shrill and agitated. Although in my class, the woman from Hungary would get my vote for the coolest accent. It just sounds so sweet and musical.
For me, German is also a way to get in touch with my roots - I'm half German, as I may have mentioned. Many Midwesterners have German heritage, and it is not uncommon to meet ones who try to show off and say "I took two years of German in high school - but I don't remember any of it except Guten Tag and Scheisse." These are the ones who managed to escape the German cult before they signed their souls away - or rather, the souls who were not strong enough to make it all the way to the end. Or, you know, decided on a more practical path of study.
It is true that German is not a highly marketable skill. Yes, Germany is important in the business world, but most Germans speak English and have been learning it since grade school, which makes an American trying to learn German in college almost redundant. Almost all of the German cultists have a second "career" major, German fulfilling the university's ridiculous requirement of needing more than one field of study, or simply for pure enjoyment. That is another thing that sets us apart from the students of Spanish or Chinese or Computer Programming. We are not suffering through this in order to make a lot of money further down the road. We are here by choice, because to some degree, all of us have fallen in love with the German language.
And that is what sets us apart from the rest of the class.
Please note that I am using the word "cult" in a humorous and/or metaphorical sense. We do not sacrifice kittens at midnight. Though we are secretly plotting world domination.
That was also a joke. It wouldn't be a secret if I told.
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