Thursday, 10/26/06
So, there I was, a day away from our first batch of workshops in Writing of Fiction (I just lost about half the people who know me and who also actually live near me, they've already heard this story. Good, more for the rest of you) which, for those of you who don't live this crazy lifestyle, is where the class pretty much reads each others stories and then offers comments on them, four drafts to a class period. So, I pick up one of the drafts, the second one in fact that I was reading that day, and, well, I nearly had a stroke. I wished, in fact for a stroke, a stroke would have been preferable to the mental and emotional turmoil and anguish that I found myself thrust into. The topic of the story that I held in my hands could essentially be summed up in two words: Star Wars. The odd thing was, that the story wasn't just like Star Wars or inspired by Star Wars, it basically was Star Wars. I think there was only one new character introduced in the entire story, and it was hard to tell if he was the protagonist, or just an incidental instrument of the plot. But basically, nothing happens in the story that did not happen in some form in one of the movies. An example: In the beginning of the story there's a bunch of sci-fi jargon that I didn't really understand, and then the first coherent piece of the plot was this section explaining to us that Darth Vader used to be Annakin Skywalker, but he couldn't control his rage and felt the Jedi had betrayed him, so he went over to the Dark Side. Shocker! So, next we learn that Darth is really, really angry. He's like, so angry that it's red. It's like white, too, he's so angry that it's white rage which is also red. And the only thing that helps him handle this rage is by damaging others, you know, violence and stuff. It doesn't make the rage go away, or make it any less, but he just has to be violent because of this rage. So, next he turns around and picks up a construction worker with his mind, and chokes him, using the Force. No way! So he killed him by crushing his windpipe without even touching him??? Yeah, seriously.
So, the story is actually about this guy named Jublin Wens who was a Jedi and then kind of fell out of favor because he "failed" the Jedi order through something that sounded vaguely like an accident but then he learned to control his rage a grief (which Darth couldn't manage) and so they gave him a second chance, for which he is still grateful. So when the temple was taken over, this guy was working for the bad guys as a kind of secret agent. Darth is trying to send out a signal to call all the Jedi back to the temple so he can destroy them, while Jublin is sending out a counter signal to warn them all away. So, finally Darth comes to check on him in his little control room, and they have an exchange of words in which Jublin, obviously trying a devious tactical method to make it look like he's blowing his cover while really drawing the cloak of secrecy ever tighter around himself, defends, to DARTH VADER what awesome and generally good people the Jedi are, all the time acting like he's still on Darth's side. Okay...cool...you're losing me.
So then, after some witty repartee, Darth invites him into the hallway to show him...I don't know, his new puppy, when all of a sudden Darth whips around and is all like, "Hey, you can't fool me, I knew you were a Jedi the entire time, now you're gonna get it." Well naturally the light sabers come out and you're getting geared up for a duel to the death, when they exchange a couple of strokes before Jublin gets hit in the face at which point his "bones dissolve, his skin melts" and, in the end, "His head was simply gone." Wow. Really, these mere words cannot possibly convey to you the extent of my frustration in reading this. It was well-nigh impossible to even focus on the words of the story because you just already knew everything that was happening, so why bother. Really, I spent about half an hour to forty minutes reading this thing and trying to form a coherent response. Do you know what I could have been doing in that time? I could have had a great conversation, baked a cake, composed a sonnet, picked flowers, frolicked in a field. Really, anything, anything could have happened, but it did not, it did not happen because my time was taken up (wasted? can I say wasted?) with this thing. I felt rather insulted as a writer and as a human being to not even be faced with a scrap of attempted creativity. Really, I am often not impressed with my own work, you can tell me that my work is the crap of the universe and I might not even disagree, but at least it's my work, they're my characters, I formulate ideas of my own. And yes, yes, I know that there is such a thing in this world as fan fiction (due to the fallenness of man, I have no doubt) but I have been given to expect that even in fan fiction, something happens, something besides what happens in the plot of the movie. As in, the movie is assumed as background knowledge and then something new occurs not just, hey, this guy was trying to do this thing, but it didn't so much work out for him and then his face melts. And really, oddly enough, I have run into a number of people who just must not understand the nature of what we are dealing with here, because they are not really reacting to this information that I am putting before them. Although I have gotten the plagarism question a number of times. The answer is...I don't know. I wish it was illegal. But I just don't know.
Then...well, some more things happened. A day is long here. But then, at around 11:30 that night as I was putzing around the house, we got a phone call from Thryn, who was over at Jeff's house informing us that our dear boy, who has been feeling sick for most of the week at this point, has a fever of 103 and they're on their way to the emergency room. Oh. Ok. Susannah, who was the one on the phone, asked if she would like someone to come with them and Thryn, obviously very distressed was like, Uhh...yeah, sure, I guess. That was obviously going to be me, they're my Jeff and Thryn. We ride in the car a lot together, why not a trip to the emergency room? So I'm running all around the house to get together the stuff (coat, bag, etc.) and am ready to go in about 2 minutes. They are already at the door by this time, Kathryn had run in the house just as I was running out the other door...classic. So, we're all piled in the car and off. I have to say, it was a pretty tense ride for me. I cracked a lot of jokes, me and Thryn both did because what else can you do on a trip to the emergency room except for in between the jokes and the groans from Jeff, I was praying, I was praying hard, because I have had a fever that was 104 on a couple of occassions, and so people have told me stories, lots of nice stories about what happens to your brain when the temperature gets up that high. So, I was scared. Really, really scared. We were driving over to Wellsville, which was about half an hour away from Houghton. Only, when we got there, we could find the hospital. We ended up getting dumped in this residential area. A phone call to Shellie, EMT and direction giver. "Are you sure it's the first set of stop lights?" "I'm sure." It was the second set of stoplights.
So we made it to the hospital and then there was...the waiting. The waiting and not hearing anything. The waiting and trying to focus on homework grabbed for the purpose. The waiting in the room with the fat, old man who kept falling asleep and waking up whenever anybody walked in. Must be a good hospital, he doesn't seem too concerned for whoever he brought. The waiting for a total of four hours before they had lowered his fever and diagnosed him with pneumonia and sent us home. Phew. We were all ridiculously hungry by this point, but why would you stop at 4:30 in the morning to get food when all you wanted to do was get warm and get to bed. Definitely just hit the sack that night and slept until about 1:30 the next day. Had noble intentions of getting up in time for chapel, in time for class, in time for anything, but it did not happen. A very strange day, all told. I have been keeping unfortunately similar hours all weekend, so I have no idea how I will be able to get to bed tonight, or get up tomorrow morning. But, at any rate, this is definitely the most exciting day that I've had in a long, long time. Hopefully it will be the most excitement of that kind that I have for a long, long time. Get better soon, Pneumonia Boy!
Happy Val-Day!
S.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Thoughts on...Stuff
101, like the dalmatians (that was for you, Hope). So, I just had to change my password to get in here, again! I have about six that I use for the various things that I've signed up for, and I'll try them all in different configurations with different user names and even if I do eventually figure it out, the next time I can't remember which one it was that finally did it. Oh, the frustrations of modern life. Right now, I am watching Charlie's Angels and enjoying my last hours of indolence during break. Break was lots of fun, very restful. We got to watch the first two of the Star Wars movies (Episode I and Episode II) and I have already seen 4, 5, and 6, so I am becoming quite the expert. Soon I will be entirely indoctrinated into this closely knit and inconquerable subculture. Once I have unlocked it's secrets I will become the jedi that I was born to be! Also, I shot a rifle for the first time today. Actually, for the first five times. I was extremely averse to trying it, and I'm not sure why. I don't have any problem with guns or hunters or moral issues with it (though, for a hobby, it is a bit expensive, but there are worse). I just don't have good feelings about guns, I guess. But I thought it advantageous to take the experience that life brought me. And, big surprise, I have pretty darn good aim for a first timer. I hit a little can with my very first shot. I think that was very influential in causing me to try the other four shots. Guns are dangerous, though. You have to know what you're doing. Remember that, kids.
So, as so often happens in my goodly group of people, we found ourselves discussing the inimitable conundrum of gender roles in our society and our churches. Just note, everyone, that it was not my fault that this whole thing got started. I was just discussing the group on sexual purity that I taught this summer, and then Jeff went off on how our churches are feminizing young men. You know what the issue is, in my perspective, is that our churches are not really attracting anyone. I am pretty confused about gender roles, but I can clearly see that churches are not attracting men to act as mentors for younger men to teach them how to be men, whatever that means. But there are not a ton of godly women that I've run into recently that I want to be just like. At least, none that I know very well. There are also not a ton of godly teenagers in most of our churches. Who I see, here and in London, and in Australia, is plenty of older women, and some older men. People, if we don't do something soon, the church could just die off.
Okay, I am being facetious to a degree, but am I the only one who's noticed this trend? It's a little hard to establish mentoring programs when the younger generations, by and large, aren't interested. And, on top of that, what on earth is the church supposed to start doing to cultivate the "adventurous, wild heart" of boys. Isn't restraining what our schools and the work force, basically all institutions would be doing the same thing. What is the difference between taming and civilizing young men? I don't know the answers to any of this, quite frankly I am feeling more and more profoundly confused about all this the more we talk about it. I just don't think that there's any one size fits all approach to masculinity or femininity, or pretty much anything, for that matter.
I don't know, volunteers to take a stab at that?
Goodnight,
S.
So, as so often happens in my goodly group of people, we found ourselves discussing the inimitable conundrum of gender roles in our society and our churches. Just note, everyone, that it was not my fault that this whole thing got started. I was just discussing the group on sexual purity that I taught this summer, and then Jeff went off on how our churches are feminizing young men. You know what the issue is, in my perspective, is that our churches are not really attracting anyone. I am pretty confused about gender roles, but I can clearly see that churches are not attracting men to act as mentors for younger men to teach them how to be men, whatever that means. But there are not a ton of godly women that I've run into recently that I want to be just like. At least, none that I know very well. There are also not a ton of godly teenagers in most of our churches. Who I see, here and in London, and in Australia, is plenty of older women, and some older men. People, if we don't do something soon, the church could just die off.
Okay, I am being facetious to a degree, but am I the only one who's noticed this trend? It's a little hard to establish mentoring programs when the younger generations, by and large, aren't interested. And, on top of that, what on earth is the church supposed to start doing to cultivate the "adventurous, wild heart" of boys. Isn't restraining what our schools and the work force, basically all institutions would be doing the same thing. What is the difference between taming and civilizing young men? I don't know the answers to any of this, quite frankly I am feeling more and more profoundly confused about all this the more we talk about it. I just don't think that there's any one size fits all approach to masculinity or femininity, or pretty much anything, for that matter.
I don't know, volunteers to take a stab at that?
Goodnight,
S.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Life's Gonna Suck When You Grow Up
Children, gather 'round. This is a rather monumental event in the life of this blog: my 100th post, the centi-post, if you will. Wow, I can't believe that I was actually able to commit to this thing for that long. This has gone from being a fairly personal tome to chronicle my life for myself and a few close friends to involving family, extended family, my mother's friends and maybe even a few strangers. You never know...after all, it is the internet. We've gone through two summers, a semester in Australia, and a full semester here at Houghton where I never really said a word except for...twice, I think. Ah yes, those were dark days.
But, I don't want this to spiral down into the dismal verbal depths of some kind of Oscar speech, and I really did log on with something to say (for a change) so I am now going to move on and say it.
It seems to be a common thread running through my dialogue with friends of late that there is reason to expect that life after graduation will in fact be worse than life before graduation. This generally puts me in a dismal mood for many, many reasons. First of all, I can take the point that this exposure to culture, to lectures by world famous authors and debates, gallery exhibits, concerts and operas, not to mention SPOT, will no longer be available after graduation. This is a major bummer because I am the only culture buff in my family, so far as I know, so after I graduate, when I come to be culturally starved as I know I will be, I will wheeze out one Saturday, "Can't we please go to a museum, a concert, something." Only to hear the gleeful but crushing reply: "No, we're going back to the mall!" Bleh. In my mind, you can only have so many pairs of jeans and that Agaci Too cami is going to rip after one good washing, but a night of intelligent conversation and deep thinking lasts forever, changes you in fact.
I don't need anyone to tell me that I won't have friends again after graduation. All your life you are socialized to this environment where you remain in groups of people the same age as you, when you get into college they even start breaking it up so you are generally put with people of the same sorts of interests. This is not even to speak of the contact with professor's and teachers who are at the top of their field, brilliant and wise and funny people whom you rather adore and don't really know where you will find in such high concentration again ever in your whole entire life. But then out you go into the world and there's no one there to meet but everyone, and what if you're just a shy sort of person who would rather not have to start all over making new friends and rebuilding her life AGAIN, after establishing a life she is already perfectly content with.
No wait, not perfectly content. The main flaw in my happiness here is and has always been the pace of life, the constant stress and busyness, the complete inability for anyone to get on top of their work, their social time, their family time or life in general. Yep, that's been rough for the past three years. But, ever optomistic, my goodly friends assure me that this, too, only gets worse after graduation. Out you go, free as a bird, for about 15 minutes before you're finding a job and a place to live, making the rent, doing the dishes and the cooking, washing your socks, then your husband might could come along and you have to rub his shoulders after a hard day at the office, take the kids out for soccer practice and piano and dance and gymnastics, and walk the dog. And what if you hate your job, it will still be what you spend the majority of your time doing. And then, they tell me, even when you come home you never catch a break, it's always errands this and demands that and another mess that needs cleaning up.
So here is the picture that's been painted for me: no culture, no intellectual stimulation, no friends, no mentors, no time, no peace, no reflection, no joy.
Well, poop.
That is what I have to say, poop on that. If that's the case, then you better believe I'm gonna be a super senior; I'm gonna be really, really super by the time my 32nd year of college rolls around with still no graduation in sight. But you know what, no matter how convinced everybody seems to be, no matter how convinced I feel, I can't believe that. First of all, even if you do have house chores to do after a day of work, it's at least a change of pace, which is very different from the schoolwork all day, go home and do homework mentality of education. Furthermore, I reckon it's almost impossible to go through life without making any friends. There's got to be people like the people I know here elsewhere in the world. After all, after I graduated from high school I didn't think I'd ever find anymore friends, and now I practically have more than I know what to do with. (she pauses and blinks, trying not to think of her earlier comment about how the educational system facilities friendships. Even if I am an introvert to the Nth degree, other people are still extroverts, so with a half decent attitude I might just be able to find somebody. And then invite them over for soup and to play Cranium some night when you're all NOT doing homework. Besides which, there's a good possibility that I could end up as a writer. Do you know how much "alone time" writer's are supposed to have (i.e.-time for them to doodle around in their creative juices and basically do whatever they want?) Sure there are the pressures of publishing. But most writers simply do not spend the entire day writing, which suits me just fine. Gives me time to learn to play the guitar, read books, build birdhouses and go for nature walks and any other wonderful occupation that might pop into my head. And, even, even if all this fails, there is always the nunnery. You don't think I'd do it, but I know I would. If I found life as crappy as every one seems to expect me to, it's off to the nunnery. So don't any of you be surprised if it happens, cause I told you I'd do it.
Anybody who wants to join me in the "Life is NOT going to suck after college" revolution, feel free to post a comment. But if you're here to rain on my parade, save it, because I already hear more crap than I can handle.
Your Toys-R-Us Kid,
S.
But, I don't want this to spiral down into the dismal verbal depths of some kind of Oscar speech, and I really did log on with something to say (for a change) so I am now going to move on and say it.
It seems to be a common thread running through my dialogue with friends of late that there is reason to expect that life after graduation will in fact be worse than life before graduation. This generally puts me in a dismal mood for many, many reasons. First of all, I can take the point that this exposure to culture, to lectures by world famous authors and debates, gallery exhibits, concerts and operas, not to mention SPOT, will no longer be available after graduation. This is a major bummer because I am the only culture buff in my family, so far as I know, so after I graduate, when I come to be culturally starved as I know I will be, I will wheeze out one Saturday, "Can't we please go to a museum, a concert, something." Only to hear the gleeful but crushing reply: "No, we're going back to the mall!" Bleh. In my mind, you can only have so many pairs of jeans and that Agaci Too cami is going to rip after one good washing, but a night of intelligent conversation and deep thinking lasts forever, changes you in fact.
I don't need anyone to tell me that I won't have friends again after graduation. All your life you are socialized to this environment where you remain in groups of people the same age as you, when you get into college they even start breaking it up so you are generally put with people of the same sorts of interests. This is not even to speak of the contact with professor's and teachers who are at the top of their field, brilliant and wise and funny people whom you rather adore and don't really know where you will find in such high concentration again ever in your whole entire life. But then out you go into the world and there's no one there to meet but everyone, and what if you're just a shy sort of person who would rather not have to start all over making new friends and rebuilding her life AGAIN, after establishing a life she is already perfectly content with.
No wait, not perfectly content. The main flaw in my happiness here is and has always been the pace of life, the constant stress and busyness, the complete inability for anyone to get on top of their work, their social time, their family time or life in general. Yep, that's been rough for the past three years. But, ever optomistic, my goodly friends assure me that this, too, only gets worse after graduation. Out you go, free as a bird, for about 15 minutes before you're finding a job and a place to live, making the rent, doing the dishes and the cooking, washing your socks, then your husband might could come along and you have to rub his shoulders after a hard day at the office, take the kids out for soccer practice and piano and dance and gymnastics, and walk the dog. And what if you hate your job, it will still be what you spend the majority of your time doing. And then, they tell me, even when you come home you never catch a break, it's always errands this and demands that and another mess that needs cleaning up.
So here is the picture that's been painted for me: no culture, no intellectual stimulation, no friends, no mentors, no time, no peace, no reflection, no joy.
Well, poop.
That is what I have to say, poop on that. If that's the case, then you better believe I'm gonna be a super senior; I'm gonna be really, really super by the time my 32nd year of college rolls around with still no graduation in sight. But you know what, no matter how convinced everybody seems to be, no matter how convinced I feel, I can't believe that. First of all, even if you do have house chores to do after a day of work, it's at least a change of pace, which is very different from the schoolwork all day, go home and do homework mentality of education. Furthermore, I reckon it's almost impossible to go through life without making any friends. There's got to be people like the people I know here elsewhere in the world. After all, after I graduated from high school I didn't think I'd ever find anymore friends, and now I practically have more than I know what to do with. (she pauses and blinks, trying not to think of her earlier comment about how the educational system facilities friendships. Even if I am an introvert to the Nth degree, other people are still extroverts, so with a half decent attitude I might just be able to find somebody. And then invite them over for soup and to play Cranium some night when you're all NOT doing homework. Besides which, there's a good possibility that I could end up as a writer. Do you know how much "alone time" writer's are supposed to have (i.e.-time for them to doodle around in their creative juices and basically do whatever they want?) Sure there are the pressures of publishing. But most writers simply do not spend the entire day writing, which suits me just fine. Gives me time to learn to play the guitar, read books, build birdhouses and go for nature walks and any other wonderful occupation that might pop into my head. And, even, even if all this fails, there is always the nunnery. You don't think I'd do it, but I know I would. If I found life as crappy as every one seems to expect me to, it's off to the nunnery. So don't any of you be surprised if it happens, cause I told you I'd do it.
Anybody who wants to join me in the "Life is NOT going to suck after college" revolution, feel free to post a comment. But if you're here to rain on my parade, save it, because I already hear more crap than I can handle.
Your Toys-R-Us Kid,
S.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
A Room of One's Own
While realizing this is out of season and irrelevant at this point, I like my pictures and so you get to see my room (my Houston room where I am not living right now) whether you want to or not! Here goes:
So this is the door to my room...
Really cool sign I made for my door...
I made this "Welcome" sign...it's corny, but...I made it!
Beautiful Spanish fan I got from my Pappap...
My sleeping spot, with pillows that I also sewed myself...
My goodwill coffee table and awesome rug thing...also my dresser
My bookcase and nautical corner...
The awesome view of the brick wall, brightened with my colored glass stuff...
Artsy shot of the bottles...
My (small) collection of antique photographs...
My closet decorations (including Reliant K and a map of Narnia...
Really awesome painting I made in my Studio Art class in high school...brownie points if you can guess the "mentor artist" and have any idea what kind of commentary I'm making in this piece.
That's all for now. I might have a couple of pictures that I'll use later. But, yes, all for now. I'm at school now in a completely different room which nevertheless looks really awesome. Do I see another photo essay coming on?
G'night,
S.
So this is the door to my room...
Really cool sign I made for my door...
I made this "Welcome" sign...it's corny, but...I made it!
Beautiful Spanish fan I got from my Pappap...
My sleeping spot, with pillows that I also sewed myself...
My goodwill coffee table and awesome rug thing...also my dresser
My bookcase and nautical corner...
The awesome view of the brick wall, brightened with my colored glass stuff...
Artsy shot of the bottles...
My (small) collection of antique photographs...
My closet decorations (including Reliant K and a map of Narnia...
Really awesome painting I made in my Studio Art class in high school...brownie points if you can guess the "mentor artist" and have any idea what kind of commentary I'm making in this piece.
That's all for now. I might have a couple of pictures that I'll use later. But, yes, all for now. I'm at school now in a completely different room which nevertheless looks really awesome. Do I see another photo essay coming on?
G'night,
S.
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