The Writing Life: Chapter 3

...some of the anecdotes in this book are over my head...I don't really understand, but perhaps I haven't been writing enough to relate to evvverything that Dillard says.

BUT I liked the example of the feral works in progress. I can definitely relate to that one. I've started stories or blog posts on one day, skipped a day, and then later scrapped the work because I just felt like I couldn't work with it anymore. It conquered me ._.

I also enjoyed the anecdote about her conversation with the ferryboat man. The first time I read through that part, I didn't quite understand. I thought it was unreasonable for her to be writing if she really hated it that much. So I ended up reading that part again. I suppose it's true, now. I've had a lot of times where I've actually had to get out of bed in the middle of the night to write something I didn't want to forget. I have random index cards with scribbles on them. I've spent hours sitting in front of the computer before, feeling terrible wondering why I was making a blog post I felt too lazy to write, but feeling compelled to see the idea on the screen anyways. Maybe these weren't the experiences that Dillard was thinking about when she wrote that part of her book. But these are the experiences that come to mind when I read that anecdote. Which goes to show, writing is incredible in that it can be understood by different people in different ways, and through it all, it can maintain its power and influence. But before all the influence, I think, the anecdote brings to light that writing is, primarily, for the person doing the writing. You write and write and write....and then, as Dillard puts it, "you die!" but the thing is the writing can't have come to nothing. Though it might not influences millions of people, or even be known by many people, there is something about the writing process itself that inexplicably affects the author personally.

The Writing Life....Chapter 2

I haven't posted in a long time. Writing a blog post again seems weird to me. BUT i need to talk about Dillard and her Writing Life, so here we go:

Eh.
I liked this chapter more than the first one. First off, she didn't use the second person, so I had no issues with absolutely everything she said...

it still irks me when she's being sooooo completely detailed, because i like to leave a few things for imagination and it seems unnecessary, but i really did like some parts about the library that she described, and the June bug she imagined knocking on her window. A lot of the stories in this chapter were interesting, my favorites being the one about the Fourth of July and the chess-baby :)

It's nice that a lot of this sort of writing (not the longggggggggg scenery passages of ch 1) can draw a lot of subtle points and aspects of having a writing life. As she writes away on the Fourth of July, it's interesting to imagine how absorbed she must have been, how lost in her writing, to have heard fireworks and thought it was actually a fat beetle.

I had to mull the chess-baby story more in my head. I really wasn't sure what that story was supposed to be about, but....it felt literary, so it's like it had a indescribable tie to writing that wasn't specific, but there nonetheless. after thinking about it, i think i decided that these are the types of things that get interpreted by everyone differently, with no particular answer. So my interpretation is that the story parallels Dillard's writing in that the writing process really does feel like a struggle against some ridiculous, confusing, invisible force. It's something I can relate to. I definitely felt like i was in the losing end of a chess-wit-battle while i was writing my story, and I certainly wanted to beat up whatever "lunatic opponent" was scrambling the board of my story to pieces.

Unread

My blog posts come in floods and droughts. Sometimes I'll write three huge posts a day, then I'll go a week without thinking of anything to say. Today, I have a lot to say. I guess writing in general has been on my mind.

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Procrastination. And some thoughts.

This is just going to be a blogpost full of random thoughts while I put off college apps.

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Assigned Blog Post #7: Oh dear. WRITING.

I am not particularly good at maintaining focus on the purpose of things. For instance, I realized today after reading Professor Cross' email that a lot of my blog posts don't have anything to do with writing. THIS IS A PROBLEM. fuhhhhhhh. Also, I need to read The Writing Life. I read a little bit of it....but I need to admit, I kind of disagreed with a lot. Maybe this is why I haven't been reading it....

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songs, beer, and a letter

I’ve been listening to itunes for the last several hours, and suddenly I realized something. Why are all songs practically about love? ALLL of them.

Okay, not all of them. Ke$ha sings about beer.

But still. A lot of songs are about love. Or maybe it’s just the songs I listen to…..o.0 Or maybe it’s just Koreans plus Taylor Swift…..Or maybe….nah. Anyways, I just thought it was weird that all Koreans plus Taylor Swift just sing about love. How do they think of sooooo many ways to say much of the same thing?!!? It goes to show that the way things are said matter big time. Even with the same basic message, I think some songs are just dumb, while others are super kinda extremely clever. And I never seem to get tired of listening to the same messages of hopefulness or heartbreak or whatever if they’re just phrased differently. A new song feels new because it demonstrates the same message as that of another song in a completely different manner. Writing lyrics seems like hard business. Especially when there’s rhyming and syllable counting involved.

Anyways, I felt like writing another random thing that has nothing to do with anything I just said. Again, it’s another semi-stream-of-consciousness deal, so forgive me if it makes your eyes bleed, I really didn’t mean for that to happen, sorry, sorry:

Dear Sailor Moon,

"Who is your hero?" my college application asks.

You come to mind.

This is a really big problem.

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uhm. what? double rainbows? not really.

I'm currently supposed to be working on college apps. But I never seem to be able to think of anything relevant unless it's due in 5 minutes.

....and it's not due in 5 minutes. So.

I haven't written anything for a while. I just feel like I don't really have anything to say. Actually, I do have things to say. I'm just being super lazy. It's hibernation season. All this winter and snow makes me feel extra slow.

But after listening to the same song on repeat 42 (43 now...) times, I've decided I really should write something. Even if it's not for college apps. So I'm just going to write a random story, regardless of how terribly it turns out. It's half stream of consciousness, since I'm just going to write it as random ideas pop into my head. Okay?

Even if you're not okay with it, too bad. I really need to get writing. And I feel sort of snobby right now. Sorry.

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rust, anyone?

Rust makes me think of being disappointed. It's like a shiny nail that's turned all brown and is falling apart gradually (chemistry students, unite!). It's like you expect a beautiful carmine sort of flower, and once it blooms you find out it's been half chewed by aphids and whatnot and is in the process of decaying. It's like picking out an awesome apple at QFC (people don't seem to pick apples off of trees nowadays...) and turning it over to see an ugly, ugly bruise. Rust is upsetting.

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AHA! ~Just a Cool, Stone Blue.

So! I've reached some decisions regarding how I'm going to tackle my brain-drought.

I've been looking around on the internet and getting some ideas...
This whole time, I've been avoiding writing any stories for quite a while, in order to "save" any ideas that occur to me by chance so I could use it for my short story later, and I don't think it's getting me anywhere.

Therefore, I'm going to do exactly the opposite and try to write as many stories as possible :)
Also, I like how some blogs are themed, so I think I'm going to focus each of my stories on a color, or at least associate my story in some way with a color, since there's an infinite number of colors, and I think colors say a lot. And i guess my stories will just be like 300-500 words or something....

This new way of thinking seems to be working. I thought of it last night, and this morning I got my first story idea in a long time (although it was sorta random) by the time I was brushing my teeth! so basically as soon as I woke up :)

So here is my first practice story? And hopefully by the time my short story is actually

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GUYS. We're ALL Prism flavored!

I was surfing the interwebs when all of a sudden I saw an ad. For 5 gum.

Prism flavored.....an electric watermelon.

I'm still feeling sorta blah creativity-wise, but i've just been getting over it by doing chem homework, and seeing this ad just made me feel a lot better.

But really. Who thought of that name? What do prisms have to do, in any way, with watermelons? or electric ones, for that matter? How do people make those associations?

It kind of makes me think of those ridiculous internet/magazine quizzes. like, Which celebrity are you? What is yo' animal? Who is yo' Twilight love match? (wow, ew).

...If you're mostly A's, you're THIS. If you're mostly B's, you're THAT. If you're mostly C's, you're NEITHER, and consequently very-very, very very very very VERY unacceptably lame. You should change yourself so you're either mostly A's or mostly B's, got it?

But it's not just those quizzes. People in general, I think, have the tendency to try and label themselves under certain categories. It's supposed to refrect yo' chaaaaractaaar and sho' yu de weeeei. Even at camps, I've heard random questions like, If you were a FRUIT (just imagine you were!) what FRUIT would you be?....or maybe you are actually a VE-GE-TA-BLE?!?!? If your name was a CITY, what CITY would you want? Rrrrrromantic, like Paris? Byoootiful, like Bellevue? Sketchy, like Las Vegas (i see what you did there, buddy)?

It's not exactly a bad thing to want to put a label on things, I guess. But I also think it obscures things. It makes people focus on a single aspect of something, rather than looking at the whole. If we looked at things holistically, there'd be no way for us to label ourselves like that. There would be no words. But, I think, there would be stories.

From what I've read of the workshop stories, so many of the characters are so filled out, so real, so 3D. And it's not from direct description. It's from their experiences that I witness in the stories written about them, and sooner or later, while I'm reading the story, I feel like I'm almost reading a huge character sketch every time, because I get to know the character so well! But if you asked me to describe the character, I wouldn't be able to find the right words at all. The feelings that the stories evoke......they're somethin' else. No words to describe the thoughts and sympathy they grow, Prism flavored or not.

My friend Jesus.

So...just now, as my mom walked by, I took out my planner and it opened up to a page with two random Buddhas and a Jesus drawn on it. Needless to say, my mom was quite surprised and slightly (very very very very) offended. Luckily, my experience as an Asian child helped me to save myself by letting her know instantly that I certainly didn't put them there.

Anyways, that close-call reminded me of something. My mother's reaction, I must admit, was similar to how I first freaked out when my friend drew Jesus on my planner during school earlier today. This sort of thing goes to show that the freak-out-factor is genetic. I think it's weird how whenever I go to Church (sorry if some people don't like religion-y things), I get told that God should be like my best friend, my dad, my teacher, ....everything. Even though I'm sure that is a very encompassing and good idea, to be honest I can't quite imagine myself saying, "'Sup God," or "Oh hey there, it's the Holy Spirit," or "Holaaaaaaaa.....Jesus." I feel like to revere something, I somehow need to get sort of distant to it: Jesus is amazing y'all, but DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH A HAIR OF HIS HOLY HEAD. IT'S NOT ALLOWED.

I remember this one time I came back from Church when I was about seven, and I was kinda excited 'cuz that was the first time I heard God was supposed to....be my best friend?
So I remember sort of staying up that night at until 12 and just sitting in the dark (this is way back in the old days when 12 was LATE for me)....trying to talk to God. Up till that point, when I prayed, I'd just recited standard stuff. It was the same everyday. So this whole conversational thing was new, and weird. And after struggling for about half an hour, I decided I was being ridiculous and went to sleep.

So what is it that makes people avoid stuff like that? Why is it bad to "talk to God," or Jesus, or the Holy Spirit, or whatever floats your boat, for that matter? For me, I feel like there's a taboo. I'm supposed to be super well-behaved talking to someone like, God, have my best attitude, and my brightest smile, and he's supposed to know that everythings going wonderfully. The world is great.

But then, that doesn't quite fit either, does it? It feels so unnatural, so dishonest. Which it is, I guess. So I kinda just felt like writing a thing about Jesus, in a less....not in a less reverent way, but in a less awkward way. In a more honest, blunt way. I'm not quite sure if it's still what I'm looking for, but hopefully, I've gotten somewhere since my seven-year-old problems.

I know a guy named Jesus. He's an old friend. I've known him just about since I was born. He's super smart and he tells good stories, while being the perfect listener. He gets what you're talking about instantly, and he doesn't judge you. So basically, he's an overall awesome and nice guy. But there's a problem. It's not his problem. It's my problem.

He listens even when he knows I'm lying. I know I shouldn't take advantage of that. But thinking about people like Jesus makes me feel like crap. If I were honest I'd probably complain all the time, or freak about something completely irrelevant and unimportant, or talk about a bunch of ordinary, bland topics that he hears about just about a million times a day.

And another thing. I haven't seen him in a long time. Talking to him was awkward, so I guess I quit being his friend over a period of several years. I used to go over every week, I swear, but I'm a busy kid. One week I was busy being sick after staying up three nights in a row, and the next week my mom was sick, and then my dog was sick, I had a birthday party to go to, I had a huge project, I procrastinated on homework, I felt tired, I didn't really know anyone at his house anymore, I couldn't wake up early enough, I forgot about it.

I'm a heathen, I know.....So do you think he'll still be friends with me?

I hope so.
He's a smart guy who can understand. I want his good stories to make me smart, too. And the way he listens makes me wish I talked using a little less words, with a little more honesty.

Simply sincere

I've been thinking about writing in general recently, especially since the beginning of the short story workshops has been freaking me out. I have absolutely NOOOOO idea what I'm going to write about, how I'm going to go about writing it, and when I'm going to start writing it. I'm just at a stasis right now. I can't think of anything to write about when I sit myself down in front of the computer and try to write. I can't just sit in front of a screen and come up with ideas. I just get random thoughts throughout the day, and I try to tuck them in a little pocket in my mind for use later, or I repeat it to myself over and over in my head until I can find paper and a pencil to write with. Usually, I forget what it was that I was so enthusiastic about getting down, and then I have to wait until the next time an idea decides to pop into my mind.

This all led me to think that writing really should be a sincere, natural sort of thing. It can't be forced, there's no formula involved in making a good piece of writing. I always feel like when I write I need to have something meaningful in the words I use, or the subjects I talk about, and then I get super self-conscious and fail miserably. But I had a conversation with one of my friends today, and as I read her messages in the chat box it really hit me what a sincere voice she has. I enjoy talking to her because the way she expresses herself is so candid, honest, and open. It invites conversation and reminds me of weird things--like fresh apples waiting to be eaten, or a blank sheet of paper waiting to be written on. She says things that wait to be discussed, thought about, and enjoyed.

Things can be enjoyed even if they're conversational. They're just nice in their simplicity. A complex topic can be presented in a simple voice, and everything becomes all the more striking, more forward, more memorable. I want to write like that eventually. Hopefully, with time I'll become completely comfortable about writing in my voice, with no bells and whistles attached.

You don't know me.

Something just occurred to me, and I wanted to get it down.

Do most people feel as if their parents know them? While I've been doing college application essays, and other people have been doing the same, I feel like that issue has been coming up a lot....

At first, I wrote an essay that I thought would turn out well...I sat down and said, I"M WRITING MY COLLEGE ESSAY....STARTING NOW. My mom read it and hated it. She was like, it doesn't sound like you.

I must admit, I ended up agreeing with her, but at first I got super pissed about it and it ended up being a two-week long argument. She said my essay was too negative, dark, and unappealing. I responded by saying, "Well clearly you don't know me then. But I know myself, and I know I'm in this essay, and if you don't like me this way, that's too bad." But she won the argument, and I edited the essay over, and over, and over again to make it "positive" until I realized I'd edited myself out completely, and I was trying to write in the voice of a stranger. The idea I'd had, the idea I'd been enthusiastic about for months, the idea I'd anticipated writing eagerly, became ugly, and later I couldn't stand it.

So I scrapped it, eventually. And I was super upset, so I was writing about how I was upset about that....and then that became my new college essay.....@_@ super circular and ironic. And after that, I wrote two more essays, and as of yet the three essays all feel like me, I think. I hope.

My mom likes these better. But still, there are times when she points at a line and says, THIS ISN"T YOU, and I say HOW WOULD YOU KNOW. This whole back and forth process has been stressing me out. It made me wonder if I was abnormal or unreasonable, if I was the only one having these huge arguments.

But then I heard a lot of people talking about the same things, and it made me think that the college essay really is a sort of pressure cooker. People get pushed by everyone else on all sides--do this, do that, take that out, I don't like this, you should be that. So it's critical to truthful, good writing to be honest to yourself. Follow intuition. If it feels wrong for you, it's because it is wrong for you. It doesn't matter if you don't know exactly, explicitly, precisely who you are. Somehow, if there's something that clicks, even if you don't know what, you should follow through with it. An essay about yourself should be something that you can smile about, not something that you hate. It should be something easy to write, not something that you worry about or something that makes you feel insecure.

People don't, people can't, know all about you. People can't know all about me. The writer needs to take control, because they're the only ones who can easily, naturally, beautifully lay themselves out on the paper.

Nostalgia

I don't consider myself a writer. On a normal basis, the idea of writing kinda makes me cringe. I journal because I want to keep memories, not necessarily because I feel like writing. Which is why I always push back, back journal entries, saying, I'll do it tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, until I realize I've forgotten what I was first going to write about, or I turn to my last journal entry and freak about the fact that it's from a month ago. Or when we get an essay from school, I just get a sinking feeling, thinking about how I'm going to spend the next several days sitting in front of my computer and getting my skin bleached by the light coming off the screen.

Other times, like the flash backs we discussed in class (but not really), something happens, and I have to write. I'm afraid of forgetting stuff, losing ideas, or not recording something important for future reference, and if I'm unfortunate enough, I'll have to get up in the middle of the night to scribble something on a random scrap sheet or an index card before I forget it...although I probably won't be able to read it the next morning. And when I actually get myself to journal or write letters, I can't seem to stop. I might as well finish and get out a lot of thoughts once I start, right?

So those are the times when I feel compelled to write--kind of forced by my conscience. And my other reason is tied to fear of forgetfulness I guess, but it's a different way of looking at it...I like looking back at old journal entries. They're like a call from the past, and then there's a wave of nostalgia, kin of (I sound like I'm 100 years old....). A lot of the time that makes me upset, but I feel like nostalgia's also important and necessary, despite people always saying, "Move FORWARD!!!!!! INTO THE FUTURE!!!! LIVE IN THE NOW AND SEIZE THE DAY!!!" Once I'm through with the upset part of nostalgia, I'm actually a bit more cheerful and a dab more secure than I started off. Nostalgia's like a check against the future. It's exactly as it sounds--sad, but soft and round, comforting and warm. When I move too far forward, all at once, that I get lost, I look back and see how I got where I am. I retrace my steps--laugh at mistakes, cry at losses, listen to old music, draw with crayons, look at pictures, and youtube a TV show I used to love--all to run into Nostalgia's arms. i rest a little in the past, because it's easier to relive things than to forge ahead, always pushing the boundaries of time. I think that it's important, especially now that I'm applying to college, that I keep the sense of Nostalgia alive, because it's so easy to try and put up a pretense, a perfect-student-image that's set and cropped to match what we think colleges want. And there's all that rush--people get ready for the next stage in their lives, and it kinda makes them forget what they're also in the process of leaving behind.