Ah yes, another monday night spent shirking schoolward responsibilities in order to write a blog post. Originally I wanted to call this post "The Lucas/Rowling Love Affair" but I figured that wouldn't look good in potential Google search. Besides that, I figured out that it was Twilight, not Harry Potter, that I'd compared the Star Wars prequels to a little while back.
Yes, this is another blog post about Harry Potter, but it's one I mentioned in the last one...you know, way back when. You might recall that I said that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley's relationship is an essay in and of itself. Well, this is that essay. And while this pair is going to be my ginny pigs, I'd like to expand the idea to all literary and film relationships. In addition, I promise that one day soon Harry will get his respectful dues. One thing I've noticed is that, as I've grown up with the Potter series, I think I dig into it a little more because I dig into myself a little more as time goes on. That's why I see this series as an equal, and again, soon I'll give Harry his due.
For now however, we need to discuss his love life, because it's something that always bugs me, particularly in the films. I know, I know, you can't make an argument out of something they changed from book to film. True, but I can if the book makes similiar errors. The most egregious error of the film is that Ginny Weasley does not get enough screen time, particularly when it comes to shots with Harry. This is somewhat less egregious in the books, yes, but there's still one thing I really don't get.
Seriously, why does Ginny get no respect? The only thing she ever really seems to be is the go-to girl for babying, and it really pains me to use that word. What I mean is, she's always on the end of "stay here and be safe" or "you can't come with." This makes no sense in context considering she's presented as a more competent which than something like 99% of her peers. Conjurer of the best Reductor Curse in Dumbledore's Army? Nope, can't come with us to the Department of Mysteries. Emotionally strong enough to handle possession by Voldemort and an unrequited obsession for Harry Potter that lasted several years? Nope, can't come with us to find Horcruxes. Re-started a rebellion by committing several brave acts of defiance in a school gone bad? Nope, be the only one to stay here and do nothing.
I know how hard it is to insert another character into things. Before you know it, you're having a hard time fitting all the characters together, or there's too many opinions floating around to make progress. I get that, but Ginny had every right to go on a hunt for Horcruxes in the Deathly Hallows, and Harry didn't need to be so bleak about breaking up with her at the end of Half Blood Prince. Okay, Harry doesn't want to make her a target. Considering that, he does an awfully good job not thinking about her for the duration of the countryside trek. Voldemort, I believe, still had access to Harry's mind at the time to some degree (although I could easily be wrong on this, since it'd be a huge plot hole seeing as how Voldy could've just mind melded to find Harry). This isn't to mention the fact that Harry has spent gratuitous amounts of time with the Weasley family over the years, and that Ginny is openly rebelling against Voldemort's men in Hogwarts. Yeah Harry, you're really keeping her safe.
This all stems from the fact that the Harry/Ginny ship (which I'm all for, by the way) was fairly underdeveloped. A mutual relationship had been budding since Order of the Phoenix, and things became apparent on Harry's end throughout most of Half-Blood Prince, but then, once Harry leaves for Horcuxes, bam, we're stuck. Normally, a book and a half of romance would be fine. This, however, is the soul mate of a character who has four and a half books of history and development behind him as the main protagonist of the entire series. Harry's love story needed to be full and gratifying. It needed to be a story of its own, and it needed to be an exploration of Ginny's character as much as it was of Harry's. We know comparatively little about Ginny as we do Harry, and even compared to Ron and Hermione. Yet this is the girl who marries the main character. This is why Harry and Ginny getting together and subsequently breaking up (I think Harry's relationships are even shorter than mine) always seemed like a bit of an ass pull for me.
I understand and sometimes roll my eyes at the fact that Ginny is good for Harry based on what we know. She's tough, exceptionally good at magic, and funny. Why do I roll my eyes? Because Harry marries his mother. Now, we know even less about Lily than we do about Ginny, and what we do know about backstory separates them, but really...Harry marries a tough redhead? This all contributed to an Epileptic Trees theory that Harry has some sort of conflict about recreating the past, and this results in him marrying his mother and naming all of his children after dead people, sometimes several dead people. All that aside, it's true, Harry Potter should have an action girl as his woman...but the whole point is moot when he and her family constantly try to take her out of the action when her moment to shine finally comes.
What the books and movies needed were some focus points for Ginny. The books were far better about this, giving her Quidditch matches to win and situations in which to defy death. What we needed though, were just a few bits from Ginny's perspective. A quick little shift like this can give you more information on a character than an outsider ever could. Give Ginny the spotlight for a little bit. Bring some of her offscreen moments onscreen, and when you do, don't pair her off with another girl or something. You have to give Ginny weight and importance. You have to make sure that she can become a main character, because when you're the girlfriend of THE main character, you have to be that developed.
The romance between Ginny and Harry should have been a romance for the ages much like Voldemort should have been a villain for the ages, but again, the feeling just falls short. This is no more evident than in the end, after the Battle of Hogwarts is won. Nothing between Harry and Ginny is evident. It's just like I said, this is the moment when Harry said they could be together again, and they don't get together. This should be the moment where we see that the next chapter in both of their lives will open. Now that Voldemort is out of the way, Ginny is Harry's next chapter. That's kind of important. To a degree I could understand trying to keep Ginny out of the battle. I can understand Harry not talking to her on the way to his death (though that is a bit of a stretch). I can't understand why Ginny isn't the first thing Harry wants when it's all over. Love is Harry's ultimate power. While it's an interesting plot point that it is not actual romance that drives Harry and gives him his heroic determination, it's a bit of a romantic letdown that Ginny does not end up factoring in to his last moments and final battle. Ginny was more of a sideshow, rather than the promise of a real future. Ginny should have been the reason Harry wanted to beat Voldemort. She was what lied beyond that quest. It just makes her seem like a bad motivation.
The movie, interestingly, gave Harry and Ginny a little bit more during the final battle. In a deleted scene, Harry joins hands with Ginny on the way to the Great Hall, and randomly kisses her later (with her trying to play the old Han Solo line, "I know" and nothing else). The former bit was incredibly random, short and fleeting as the two didn't exchange any words whatsoever, so it wasn't all that helpful, but it was honestly a bit better than the book's trying to keep her down. That all was avoided by the changes in presentation to the beginnings of the final battle. Ginny's lack of shining moments and reunion with Harry are still absent, as previously mentioned. Otherwise, the movies saw even less of Ginny than the books did and their relationship in Half Blood Prince consisted of a secret kiss and a few mentions afterward. An awkward moment in the seventh film helped a little, and sets up for one of the best lines in the movie ("Mooorning"), at the cost of a real show of passion between the two that was present in the books...though I'm apt to say the tradeoff was fair.
Still, there ultimately was no difference at the end. I believe in the book we didn't really hear anything about Ginny after the battle, and the fact that the movie includes something is kind of a shame. Once again, instead of with Harry, who she marries and fornicates with years later, she;s...elsewhere, and doesn't even seem to give Harry a look when he walks by. Not that many others do much differently, which again is the weirdest thing on the planet, but once again, the only person/people more important to Harry are Ron and Hermione. Or at least, one would think.
This, the main love story in Harry Potter, or rather, the love story involving the main character, is another example of how Harry Potter isn't quite perfect. Its strength lies in making magic out of normal, relatable characters and continually escalating thier situation until it reaches a grand scale. It is one of the great stories of our time, but it is not without its imperfections. In my eyes, it doesn't reach the heights it should in several areas, one of which is its villain, who admittedly has brilliance in his backstory, another of which is the central romance, which is a big deal when part of your appeal is the fact that your main character is an adolescent that's experiencing things like love for the first time...and struggling with it like many of its readers.
I admit, putting together a love story that works and has the desired emotional payoff is one of writing's greater challenges. It's easy to screw up...I mean, just ask Twilight, which follows a guy and a girl who have nothing in common and yet....let's not get started on Twilight actually. Let's not talk Anakin and Padme either...although one less balcony scene would have done wonders for their believability...oh, and one less biggest-dumbass-move-in-the-entire-history-of-film. If you want an example of a good love story, look at Simon and Nia in Gurren Lagann. They share an innate goodness and innocence, and she actually has a reason to be a little robotic. GL just has a way with characters in general, to the point where Yoko/Kamina seems...right.
The more frustrating thing is that there are fair examples within the HP universe itself. Lupin and Tonks' relationship was mostly off-screen, but it hit audiences in just the right way. Ron and Hermione was fairly developed, though once again held back and not quite explored as much as it was simply exposed a lot more. Shit, even Harry's mother had a better developed love story...or rather, she was involved in one. I understand very much that Harry Potter isn't a teenage romance story...but like I've said, the fact that this is part of Harry's development and the fact that Ginny ends up being a huge part of his future, and a potential symbol of hope, makes it a wall-banger that this particular story was not fully developed.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Model Ts and Atom Bombs
You know the feeling. It's the one where you're standing in your driveway, or worse, the side of the road, next to a car that has malfunctioned. You're sunk. Immediately your mind goes to the last time the car broke and it seems like it was a week ago, probably because you spent a few hundred dollars on it, and that's about all you wanted to spend for about a year on the thing. But no, here you are, stuck wherever it is that this thing has broken.
It's totally weird how this is our most common and most used mode of transportation. This is one of those things. It's 2012 now, and we're still using a variation of something that came about over 100 years ago. We invented flight not too long after, and it's proven to be an even more efficient mode of travel, but it too has seemed to stop getting better. The rate at which the two technologies have advanced has been slow in comparison to the good ol 1900s.
Our imaginations sure aren't the problem. We're dreaming huge right now, and have been for a good while, using what we have as a springboard for new ideas. The problem is, most of these dreams are just CG effects on the silver screen. I think that has something to do with the fact that the area in which technology has been accelling most lately is entertainment. 20 years ago, when I was born, half of the stuff I use to entertain myself didn't exist. No, more than half. For whatever reason, entertainment's where it's at right now. So what happened to all the other technology advancing?
Well, for America, I'd say the Cold War was part of it, since that was mostly about not just inventing the biggest, baddest weapons, but also keeping them a secret. So a lot of what got developed at the time only leaked out into the things the general public was consuming. I think the focus on advancement for the military probably stifled advancement for everyone. By the time the Cold War was over, the public had moved on to the whole entertainment bit. Note that I haven't done any research on this...it's really justa paper-thin non-scientific theory.
What really frustrates me is pretty much what I started with, actually. The only thing that keeps getting better in transportation technology it seems, is the computers in them that...don't really help me get from A to B. They don't really extend the life of the parts of my car either, making it work longer, nor do they make my car go faster or transcend the limits of travel set by the arbitrary roads that we use to get around. When the computers in a car can monitor its well being and fix it when need be, then we'll be getting somewhere.
My 96 Honda Accord breaking every so often, yeah, I get it, it has almost 200k miles on it. My parents' old van, yeah, it's going to break. It's because they're old...but really, a car being new doesn't really stop it from having problems. When they start to age or whatever, they're gonna break, and at that point they're no different than the '96 car, and it'll probably be even more expensive to fix. I'd rather have a car that has better longevity than my last one than one that can tell me where the next burger joint is.
But even that is small talk. The other day I was talking with a friend about the limits of travel. Why is it that I can sit here in 2012 and believe that Canada is as far away and inaccessible as the moon? It's attached to my freaking country, and yet it'd take a good bit of planning and an amount of money large enough for me to shy away from it to get there. What the hell is that? If I want to go, it shouldn't be a big thing. Considering we've had the technology to go to the moon and outer space for over 50 years now, anything short of breaking through the atmosphere should be a piece of cake.
Right now you've got to be rich to go anywhere on a moment's notice. Private jets exist but aren't accessible like they should be. Imagine if you had to take the bus everywhere with everyone except those who can afford cars. It'd be annoying, especially since those personal cars are a lot more efficient. Hell, anything that doesn't have to use a road is going to be more efficient. Imagine this one: if we embraced our ability to fly and lifted our transportation into the air, we could tear up the roads and highways and plant trees or build some much needed homes and stuff.
Okay, I know that's a bit much to ask, but admit it, it'd be so cool. I know there are issues with that, you know, like how do we get flying machines to be as fuel efficient as ground ones? How do we regulate sky traffic? Yeah, they're problems, but they're better than "how do we widen the roads so our overflowing population can fit on it?" Flying cars and hovercrafts are a whole new thing, a whole new realm of possibilities. Suppose we do come up with transportation that can get us around the world in 3 hours. How then do you prevent the people who'd then use these things to launch quick, surprise attacks on people they hate?
That brings up another point. I know I haven't even touched on corporate greed and all that, and honestly, I probably won't. Just mentioning it nowadays can give you a whole list of implications that sort explain "this has stunted the growth of...well...everything in some way or another." No, what really pisses me off is the violence. Okay, so who's bright idea was it to use a plane...as of right now our best mode of fast transportation...as a fucking death machine? No really, what the hell? That person has single-handedly slowed the evolution and advancement of the entire human race. This is a big reason why the only advancements in air travel in recent memory have been advancements to security.
Of course, the presence of ill intentions stunts us in other ways. Let me level with you for a second. How many ways are there to get from here, the USA, to Canada...or better yet somewhere like England? Plane and boat. Two. Now, how many ways are there to kill a person? A shit ton. I mean, say I want to headshot someone...I've got like a billion different options of guns to do it with. With our weapon technology, we can kill millions of people with a single hunk of metal. We could do that back in 1945. So what did we do afterwards? We made them more powerful. We came up with more ways to kill people.
Who does that make happy? Okay, suppose you get off on killing, you're happy when you hear you managed to kill 8008 people. Then what happens? Other people get angry, and then they come after you and kill a bunch other people, potentially you. And then you're not happy. You're either pissed or dead, the former which will instigate more people seeking happiness by trying to kill you. See how this works in a circle? Seriously, I'd rather have a car that can tell me where the next burger joint is than a new type of gun.
Speaking of which, it's pretty freaking crazy that I started this post by talking about something as simple and stupid as a car not starting. Eh, that's just what runs through your head when you're born with the ability to overthink things like I do. But if you think about it and summarize this post...today, your car breaks down and tomorrow millions of people die. Maybe more than anything this was just a look into my mind. Even so, can we all agree that transportation should be much easier and more effective than it is? Let's.
It's totally weird how this is our most common and most used mode of transportation. This is one of those things. It's 2012 now, and we're still using a variation of something that came about over 100 years ago. We invented flight not too long after, and it's proven to be an even more efficient mode of travel, but it too has seemed to stop getting better. The rate at which the two technologies have advanced has been slow in comparison to the good ol 1900s.
Our imaginations sure aren't the problem. We're dreaming huge right now, and have been for a good while, using what we have as a springboard for new ideas. The problem is, most of these dreams are just CG effects on the silver screen. I think that has something to do with the fact that the area in which technology has been accelling most lately is entertainment. 20 years ago, when I was born, half of the stuff I use to entertain myself didn't exist. No, more than half. For whatever reason, entertainment's where it's at right now. So what happened to all the other technology advancing?
Well, for America, I'd say the Cold War was part of it, since that was mostly about not just inventing the biggest, baddest weapons, but also keeping them a secret. So a lot of what got developed at the time only leaked out into the things the general public was consuming. I think the focus on advancement for the military probably stifled advancement for everyone. By the time the Cold War was over, the public had moved on to the whole entertainment bit. Note that I haven't done any research on this...it's really justa paper-thin non-scientific theory.
What really frustrates me is pretty much what I started with, actually. The only thing that keeps getting better in transportation technology it seems, is the computers in them that...don't really help me get from A to B. They don't really extend the life of the parts of my car either, making it work longer, nor do they make my car go faster or transcend the limits of travel set by the arbitrary roads that we use to get around. When the computers in a car can monitor its well being and fix it when need be, then we'll be getting somewhere.
My 96 Honda Accord breaking every so often, yeah, I get it, it has almost 200k miles on it. My parents' old van, yeah, it's going to break. It's because they're old...but really, a car being new doesn't really stop it from having problems. When they start to age or whatever, they're gonna break, and at that point they're no different than the '96 car, and it'll probably be even more expensive to fix. I'd rather have a car that has better longevity than my last one than one that can tell me where the next burger joint is.
But even that is small talk. The other day I was talking with a friend about the limits of travel. Why is it that I can sit here in 2012 and believe that Canada is as far away and inaccessible as the moon? It's attached to my freaking country, and yet it'd take a good bit of planning and an amount of money large enough for me to shy away from it to get there. What the hell is that? If I want to go, it shouldn't be a big thing. Considering we've had the technology to go to the moon and outer space for over 50 years now, anything short of breaking through the atmosphere should be a piece of cake.
Right now you've got to be rich to go anywhere on a moment's notice. Private jets exist but aren't accessible like they should be. Imagine if you had to take the bus everywhere with everyone except those who can afford cars. It'd be annoying, especially since those personal cars are a lot more efficient. Hell, anything that doesn't have to use a road is going to be more efficient. Imagine this one: if we embraced our ability to fly and lifted our transportation into the air, we could tear up the roads and highways and plant trees or build some much needed homes and stuff.
Okay, I know that's a bit much to ask, but admit it, it'd be so cool. I know there are issues with that, you know, like how do we get flying machines to be as fuel efficient as ground ones? How do we regulate sky traffic? Yeah, they're problems, but they're better than "how do we widen the roads so our overflowing population can fit on it?" Flying cars and hovercrafts are a whole new thing, a whole new realm of possibilities. Suppose we do come up with transportation that can get us around the world in 3 hours. How then do you prevent the people who'd then use these things to launch quick, surprise attacks on people they hate?
That brings up another point. I know I haven't even touched on corporate greed and all that, and honestly, I probably won't. Just mentioning it nowadays can give you a whole list of implications that sort explain "this has stunted the growth of...well...everything in some way or another." No, what really pisses me off is the violence. Okay, so who's bright idea was it to use a plane...as of right now our best mode of fast transportation...as a fucking death machine? No really, what the hell? That person has single-handedly slowed the evolution and advancement of the entire human race. This is a big reason why the only advancements in air travel in recent memory have been advancements to security.
Of course, the presence of ill intentions stunts us in other ways. Let me level with you for a second. How many ways are there to get from here, the USA, to Canada...or better yet somewhere like England? Plane and boat. Two. Now, how many ways are there to kill a person? A shit ton. I mean, say I want to headshot someone...I've got like a billion different options of guns to do it with. With our weapon technology, we can kill millions of people with a single hunk of metal. We could do that back in 1945. So what did we do afterwards? We made them more powerful. We came up with more ways to kill people.
Who does that make happy? Okay, suppose you get off on killing, you're happy when you hear you managed to kill 8008 people. Then what happens? Other people get angry, and then they come after you and kill a bunch other people, potentially you. And then you're not happy. You're either pissed or dead, the former which will instigate more people seeking happiness by trying to kill you. See how this works in a circle? Seriously, I'd rather have a car that can tell me where the next burger joint is than a new type of gun.
Speaking of which, it's pretty freaking crazy that I started this post by talking about something as simple and stupid as a car not starting. Eh, that's just what runs through your head when you're born with the ability to overthink things like I do. But if you think about it and summarize this post...today, your car breaks down and tomorrow millions of people die. Maybe more than anything this was just a look into my mind. Even so, can we all agree that transportation should be much easier and more effective than it is? Let's.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
The Rage of Love
It's funny how sometimes I forget that not getting a lot of views can be a good thing. Like right now, when I've already wangsted all over twitter and GDC and facebook, and have illicited no interest from anyone to ay least talk to them about the thing that has me frustrated. And boy, am I frustrated. I haven't been this frustrated in a long time. It makes me imagine stupid things, like trashing my room, or looking like Darth Maul or going Super Saiyan Pure Evil Vegeta style.
I would love to explain, but the fact of the matter is that it is very rarely the case for a post to get zero views. That means I'm not free to just say anything, because in some cases, that is, the ones that have nothing to do with Russia, I have an idea of who may be reading these words. I say this all the time, actually...so if you had an idea that this post would be linked with the others where I complain about some entity I keep anonymous, you're absolutely right. This is another episode in that saga.
Honestly I'm tired of keeping the aforementioned secret. I'd love nothing more than to talk openly about this issue I'm having, but I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready for that at all, I don't think. Because of that though, it's frustrating that finding help is so hard, since due to the necessary secrecy, many of my typical avenues are closed to me. I'm kind of going at it alone, not that it isn't what I'm used to. It's just frustrating that that's the way it has to be right now. I can't really get help until it's too late.
But allow me to devolve into less sensical talk.
I'm sick of being fictional. I'm sick of being still life. For once, I'm sick of being intrigue, but in this instance only. My thoughts and my hours are being sent to one distant point, and nothing returns. It would put a strain on anyone's soul I think. Doing it is one thing, but doing it like this is another, much harder thing. There's even less of a head on the shoulders. It sucks being a sideshow or a subplot in the life of someone who's your main conflict this season. It frustrates me because I see little bits and pieces of the main picture, but not enough to where my mind can comprehend the fact that these things matter. No, my mind still wants to believe everything is equal...and that's a painful lie to maintain.
It's actually a theme in general that things are placed out of my reach to the fault of no one. Viewers here and on YouTube, friendship, and of course this, in the most literal sense possible. If I just had a stool, I could reach this shit...but I can't find one right now. I wish I'd stop talking myself down from stuff too. Sometimes I wish the words weren't there to make me accept whatever's going through my brain...and instead I'd do something totally whack.
Why? Because as we speak I'm watching something happen from inside a box made of thick glass. I can see lips moving, and I guess I can tell what they're saying...it's nothing really, and yet it twists and turns inside me. I know context, I really do, and though this is a simple matter, my mind does not fully comprehend what it is I am seeing. The fact that this glass is thicker than usual worries me...panics me. I can see out. I can bang on the walls and scream and yowl, all without the things I'm watching even knowing nor sparing a thought toward my attempts to reach out with them.
And if the glass weren't there? I honestly don't know if it would be any better. I'd say yes, because in the end, we are human, and we accept that. I guess there's still the glass though, it just has holes in it and now I can be heard. Those holes, for me, seem like craters. When they open it's like apertures open up in the whole world, not just some pin pricks. It's weird how much better it is than...this. This watching, looking on, seeing the emotion, and banging on the walls because I just can't understand it, even though one part of correctly inteprets all of it as nothing.
Why the fuck did this happen to me anyway? This goddamn heart will be the death of me, I swear.
I would love to explain, but the fact of the matter is that it is very rarely the case for a post to get zero views. That means I'm not free to just say anything, because in some cases, that is, the ones that have nothing to do with Russia, I have an idea of who may be reading these words. I say this all the time, actually...so if you had an idea that this post would be linked with the others where I complain about some entity I keep anonymous, you're absolutely right. This is another episode in that saga.
Honestly I'm tired of keeping the aforementioned secret. I'd love nothing more than to talk openly about this issue I'm having, but I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready for that at all, I don't think. Because of that though, it's frustrating that finding help is so hard, since due to the necessary secrecy, many of my typical avenues are closed to me. I'm kind of going at it alone, not that it isn't what I'm used to. It's just frustrating that that's the way it has to be right now. I can't really get help until it's too late.
But allow me to devolve into less sensical talk.
I'm sick of being fictional. I'm sick of being still life. For once, I'm sick of being intrigue, but in this instance only. My thoughts and my hours are being sent to one distant point, and nothing returns. It would put a strain on anyone's soul I think. Doing it is one thing, but doing it like this is another, much harder thing. There's even less of a head on the shoulders. It sucks being a sideshow or a subplot in the life of someone who's your main conflict this season. It frustrates me because I see little bits and pieces of the main picture, but not enough to where my mind can comprehend the fact that these things matter. No, my mind still wants to believe everything is equal...and that's a painful lie to maintain.
It's actually a theme in general that things are placed out of my reach to the fault of no one. Viewers here and on YouTube, friendship, and of course this, in the most literal sense possible. If I just had a stool, I could reach this shit...but I can't find one right now. I wish I'd stop talking myself down from stuff too. Sometimes I wish the words weren't there to make me accept whatever's going through my brain...and instead I'd do something totally whack.
Why? Because as we speak I'm watching something happen from inside a box made of thick glass. I can see lips moving, and I guess I can tell what they're saying...it's nothing really, and yet it twists and turns inside me. I know context, I really do, and though this is a simple matter, my mind does not fully comprehend what it is I am seeing. The fact that this glass is thicker than usual worries me...panics me. I can see out. I can bang on the walls and scream and yowl, all without the things I'm watching even knowing nor sparing a thought toward my attempts to reach out with them.
And if the glass weren't there? I honestly don't know if it would be any better. I'd say yes, because in the end, we are human, and we accept that. I guess there's still the glass though, it just has holes in it and now I can be heard. Those holes, for me, seem like craters. When they open it's like apertures open up in the whole world, not just some pin pricks. It's weird how much better it is than...this. This watching, looking on, seeing the emotion, and banging on the walls because I just can't understand it, even though one part of correctly inteprets all of it as nothing.
Why the fuck did this happen to me anyway? This goddamn heart will be the death of me, I swear.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Trains
Here's a little story I wrote inspired by Laura Shigihara's "Trains."
He kept looking over his shoulder to see the blank slate of the platform behind him, abruptly ended by the red bricks of the station. It seemed to him, a still life, its coat-clad denizens silently slipping between the flakes of white descending from the pale gray sky. His head turned around to the brown train car that took up all of the vision to his front. He turned his head again, noticing the positions of the hands on a clock that stared down on the station from its own pole. He checked his watch just to be sure, and watched as his breath made a haze in front of him.
It had only been two minutes. He was only two minutes into this twilight between where his journey ended and the next began. Home, however, seemed like a faraway land now. He’d refused to come here, and whenever he even passed the place, he tended to close his eyes. The image he saw when he looked over his shoulder, the one with all the people in fluffy black coats that would be stained into his memory for no reason, was one he’d feared since he’d put it to his back two months ago. His heart panicked as his dream that at the last minute, something might come and save him or wake him up came crashing down inside his mind.
His legs tingled as his brain whispered “run” to them. It was not electricity that flowed through them now, but ice, from the inside, not out. He shook his head and steadied his quivering lip, assuring himself that there was nothing more he could have done. Everything was perfect. Something in the back of his mind wondered, however, how that could be, when here he was unable to get on a train that was right in front of him. The seconds went by slower and slower.
They’d watched the leaves fall off of the trees and turn into small white flecks sailing to the ground. He wanted nothing more than to watch those trees turn green again, in that exact same spot, yet another thing he’d fallen in love with. Home did not have a spot like that. Home was thousands of spots away, all of which would pass in a big blur, even the ones he loved. The spots were not what he loved most. He would never have found them and taken them in if not for her. Seeing her face for the first time with all its dimensions and features intact was the moment his life became one long dream he got to wake up to every day.
He’d had two months to prove himself. He’d had two months to release everything that had built up inside of him and express everything that he never thought he’d be able to put in their proper place. Now that the time was up, he was wondering if he had done it. Something had seemed to hold him back the whole time from embracing her with all his might and telling her that there would be no train home and that he was going to stay forever. That, he believed, was the only thing he could have done to fulfill himself and be completely honest.
Yet here he was, in complete silence for the first time since the trees had leaves. Not a sound would permeate his ears for the next few hours, or maybe longer. Perhaps the next thing he’d let himself hear was the sound of her voice. This was not a thought he could entertain long however. When was “next time?” There was no answer, and maybe that was something he’d done wrong. Was this always how it was going to be, a back and forth of trains and travel with interspersed bouts of uncertainty? No matter the case, home would always be far away for someone.
All he wanted was for her to tell him, just one more time, that next time would be soon. He wanted her to tell him he’d done all he could and that she loved him more than ever. He knew that she had done all she could already. It was up to him now, but it was a weight he did not want to carry again. It was the weight of uncertainty that she needed to dissipate by telling him the hardest step had already been taken.
No, the hardest step was right now, the one right in front of him. He looked down at the first black stair that led up into the train. This was the first step he’d take that would take him so far away from her for an indefinite period of time. This might be the first of many he’d take identical to this one. How many would he have to take before everything was as it should be, for better or worse? At least, he thought, there’d be more than one.
Yes, the important thing is that this was not the last step. As long as there would be one more, no matter when, there would always be something to which he could look forward. He breathed into the air in front of him, having found the one thought he needed to comfort himself just enough for him to raise his foot. This step had to be taken so that it could be taken again. Without it, this was the end. Determined not to make it so, he took the step, his hand reaching for the rail. Once elevated, he looked out over the station again, his frown evening out on his face. All of the people were still invisible to him, and still nothing made a sound.
He found a seat next to the window and allowed himself to sink into it. He did not hear the train whistle, and barely noticed that the image of the station he’d just seen without the glass was starting to move. The only thing he saw was her face, a smile put on it just for him, attached to her head and body, with one arm moving in a motion that told him farewell. In a flash, he put his hand up and mirrored her on the inside. The smile on his face was just for her, and no one else. The smile she had given him was one, in this instance, that he would never tire of seeing.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Push Your Luck
Okay, bit of a rant here but I think it's a more of a smypathetic one, and it's not about how many views or friends I don't have. See I got out of my house for the first time in God knows when to go to a concert in Philly, which I had no idea was actually so close. It's kind of becoming a yearly tradition for a birthday/Christmas present from my sister to be tickets to something somewhere elsewhere. Last year we went to New York to see the American Idiot Musical. Of course, we learned from our mistakes last year...which included going up something like eight hours before the show started and not having a plan that would take us 8 hours to finish, thus leaving us out in the blustery, chilling winds until we decided what to do next. This year there was a much-needed lack of bollocks. It was dinner, [getting a little lost], and a show. Drive up, drive back, much more simple.
My rant comes in at the show itself, since while I was certainly annoyed by the city's lack of proper navigational explanations, I wasn't actually apart of driving or navigating through them. This wasn't a huge show, either. It was at one of those medium-size places that bands play at before they make it big, and that local acts would feel really really awesome playing on. We saw Grouplove and Young the Giant, by the way, and I must admit I didn't think they attracted the kind of crowd they do. I half expected it to be a bunch of scarf-wearing bearded fellows that didn't know how to move their feet.
Actually, it's kind of a shame it wasn't. I've only been to...really...one other standing-room-only type show for a bigger act, and it really wasn't that bad, crowd-wise. Granted, The Dead Weather isn't exactly a "move your feet and make sweet lovey love to me" kind of group (they're more of a...kinky dirty leather-wait what the hell?). Maybe then I was just more immersed in the music anyway, since I really love The Dead Weather and I...knew a grand total of one-and-a-half songs by Young the Giant going into the show. For whatever reason I just seemed to notice the crowd a lot more at this one, and word of advice: never notice the crowd, because they can be a little asshole-y.
I mean, really, fridge logic: you get to a show a little bit later than some other people, you come in the door, there's a good crowd in front of the stage so, meh, you just hold hands with your group and plow through the people to get to the frontmost position you can, even if it means shoving and pushing people and obscuring their line of sight towards the people they came here to see on time. I know, I know, I sound like a total pussy right now, bitching about other people's determination, but goddammit, if you were really determined you'd have stood out in the cold like all the people in front of you at the venue did, not to mention you're going to lose scilia in your ears no matter where you end up. No really, concerts are loud, and arguably sound worse when you're right in front of a stack of speakers twice the size of you. I don't quite understand why people feel the need to be right up next to the band, even though they clearly missed their shot. The stage, the venue, and therefore the first row can only hold so many people.
Bear in mind these are usually the same people who, when parked next to you, will sing along to every song in such a way that you'd think they really want the singer of the band to stop and say "hey you, you're doing a better job than me, come here and finish up this concert, eh?" and dance as wildly as they possibly can with their arms up in the air and their armpits right near your nostrils. It's a deadly combination, really. Hell, it even gets awkward when all of a sudden you've got these two short high school girls next to you and the one is dancing in such away that her ass starts bumping your hand that's just clinging to your pocket because that's what's comfortable at the time for your hand. You start thinking "it's your ass so don't even do the whole 'he keeps touching my bum!" thing. I mean really, as weird as this may sound, I don't get anything out of people grinding on me at concerts.
It's just not in my blood to be pushy or anything. I mind my space I'd like other people around me to mind theirs, even if it means stand and moving in small, awkward ways to show my affection for the band in question. That's totally what I did for the Dead Weather, and again, I think the key difference between these two shows is that I totally love the Dead Weather, and I don't feel the same way about the bands I saw last night. At a show like that, I'd be a little more willing to fight for my keep, especially since I was only about five rows away from the stage. Last night, I was much farther away and off to the side...you know, where you'd think there'd be less people looking for- wait no, that's totally fridge logic since everyone would want to move past you get closer where the cool kids are. Gotcha.
Personally I still think the best place to be at a show is on the stage performing. If it were me, I'd always think and speak in abstractions. You always hear about "the people in the back" or "the people on the right" or whatever, but never about "the people getting sodomized by other people trying to get closer to us." Even if you love the people performing and you want to have all the babbys, it's still no fun to have some dude and his girlfriend spin you around and then give you a nice view of whatever t-shirt he's wearing at the time.
And another thing, I'd change if it were me onstage: the wait time. Okay, so doors open at 7, show starts at 8, that I kind of get. You know, let people get there and stuff, get their merch or t-shirts or whatever and look around the venue...I don't think it should take an hour, but I get it. Then the first band comes on and plays their set, and that's great. Then there's this long time when nothing really happens. They turn on the lights and the canned music and some people strike the first band's stuff. Okay, gotcha. Then there's just...nothing. You get a few guitar techs every now and then making an appearance and checking lights and stuff here and there...which really probably could've been done before the show (why do they have sound check then?). All of a sudden it's doors at 7, show at 8:15, first set ends at 9:50, and it's the second band at 10: 30 (I think in last night's case, it was doors at 7:30, Grouplove at 8:30, Grouplove finishes at 9:20ish, and Young the Giant was around 10:30...I think).
This is one place in which local shows kick big shows' asses. Them venue bitches want you off the stage so the next one can be ready to start at twenty minutes from your end time...which is still too long since there's still that awkward moment where the next band is set up and ready to go but then they get off stage and go drink for a good 8 minutes before playing. It's still better than waiting an hour. I mean really, why can't we just get what we paid for and have the band come on out when they're ready. It's not like they're backstage working or something because that's the only time they have to work.
Don't get me wrong, shows are awesome whether you're in the audience or on the stage, I'm not arguing that, I'm just saying there are these stupid, annoying things that really bug you when you're not into the music enough to let it dorwn out anything else. And again, even if that is the case, you're still going to notice the stupid wait and the assholes you have to deal with...unless of course you're one of them. If that's the case and you're reading this, then I'd like to ask you to just be mindful of the fact that those are real, actual people you're shoving and rubbing and knocking around. I know "personal space" isn't really a thing at shows, and to a degree, I understand that, but still, remember that just because letting someone touch your ass is usually given as a privelege doesn't mean it's so on someone who's not hitting on you. And for the guys, well same thing really, and I guess this can go for girls too, seriously don't think you're Moses and that people will part for you when you want to get closer. No. How about getting there earlier?
Again, I know I sound like a real prick who needs to learn how to have fun, but I just don't want to do it at the expense of other people, since I obviously know what it's like to be the person who's...well...all of the above. This is just another reason you should go see a bunch of local bands...because someday when they actually write a song you love to death (or if they already have) they'll magically attract enough people to make all this crowd-shuffling rubbish go on.
My rant comes in at the show itself, since while I was certainly annoyed by the city's lack of proper navigational explanations, I wasn't actually apart of driving or navigating through them. This wasn't a huge show, either. It was at one of those medium-size places that bands play at before they make it big, and that local acts would feel really really awesome playing on. We saw Grouplove and Young the Giant, by the way, and I must admit I didn't think they attracted the kind of crowd they do. I half expected it to be a bunch of scarf-wearing bearded fellows that didn't know how to move their feet.
Actually, it's kind of a shame it wasn't. I've only been to...really...one other standing-room-only type show for a bigger act, and it really wasn't that bad, crowd-wise. Granted, The Dead Weather isn't exactly a "move your feet and make sweet lovey love to me" kind of group (they're more of a...kinky dirty leather-wait what the hell?). Maybe then I was just more immersed in the music anyway, since I really love The Dead Weather and I...knew a grand total of one-and-a-half songs by Young the Giant going into the show. For whatever reason I just seemed to notice the crowd a lot more at this one, and word of advice: never notice the crowd, because they can be a little asshole-y.
I mean, really, fridge logic: you get to a show a little bit later than some other people, you come in the door, there's a good crowd in front of the stage so, meh, you just hold hands with your group and plow through the people to get to the frontmost position you can, even if it means shoving and pushing people and obscuring their line of sight towards the people they came here to see on time. I know, I know, I sound like a total pussy right now, bitching about other people's determination, but goddammit, if you were really determined you'd have stood out in the cold like all the people in front of you at the venue did, not to mention you're going to lose scilia in your ears no matter where you end up. No really, concerts are loud, and arguably sound worse when you're right in front of a stack of speakers twice the size of you. I don't quite understand why people feel the need to be right up next to the band, even though they clearly missed their shot. The stage, the venue, and therefore the first row can only hold so many people.
Bear in mind these are usually the same people who, when parked next to you, will sing along to every song in such a way that you'd think they really want the singer of the band to stop and say "hey you, you're doing a better job than me, come here and finish up this concert, eh?" and dance as wildly as they possibly can with their arms up in the air and their armpits right near your nostrils. It's a deadly combination, really. Hell, it even gets awkward when all of a sudden you've got these two short high school girls next to you and the one is dancing in such away that her ass starts bumping your hand that's just clinging to your pocket because that's what's comfortable at the time for your hand. You start thinking "it's your ass so don't even do the whole 'he keeps touching my bum!" thing. I mean really, as weird as this may sound, I don't get anything out of people grinding on me at concerts.
It's just not in my blood to be pushy or anything. I mind my space I'd like other people around me to mind theirs, even if it means stand and moving in small, awkward ways to show my affection for the band in question. That's totally what I did for the Dead Weather, and again, I think the key difference between these two shows is that I totally love the Dead Weather, and I don't feel the same way about the bands I saw last night. At a show like that, I'd be a little more willing to fight for my keep, especially since I was only about five rows away from the stage. Last night, I was much farther away and off to the side...you know, where you'd think there'd be less people looking for- wait no, that's totally fridge logic since everyone would want to move past you get closer where the cool kids are. Gotcha.
Personally I still think the best place to be at a show is on the stage performing. If it were me, I'd always think and speak in abstractions. You always hear about "the people in the back" or "the people on the right" or whatever, but never about "the people getting sodomized by other people trying to get closer to us." Even if you love the people performing and you want to have all the babbys, it's still no fun to have some dude and his girlfriend spin you around and then give you a nice view of whatever t-shirt he's wearing at the time.
And another thing, I'd change if it were me onstage: the wait time. Okay, so doors open at 7, show starts at 8, that I kind of get. You know, let people get there and stuff, get their merch or t-shirts or whatever and look around the venue...I don't think it should take an hour, but I get it. Then the first band comes on and plays their set, and that's great. Then there's this long time when nothing really happens. They turn on the lights and the canned music and some people strike the first band's stuff. Okay, gotcha. Then there's just...nothing. You get a few guitar techs every now and then making an appearance and checking lights and stuff here and there...which really probably could've been done before the show (why do they have sound check then?). All of a sudden it's doors at 7, show at 8:15, first set ends at 9:50, and it's the second band at 10: 30 (I think in last night's case, it was doors at 7:30, Grouplove at 8:30, Grouplove finishes at 9:20ish, and Young the Giant was around 10:30...I think).
This is one place in which local shows kick big shows' asses. Them venue bitches want you off the stage so the next one can be ready to start at twenty minutes from your end time...which is still too long since there's still that awkward moment where the next band is set up and ready to go but then they get off stage and go drink for a good 8 minutes before playing. It's still better than waiting an hour. I mean really, why can't we just get what we paid for and have the band come on out when they're ready. It's not like they're backstage working or something because that's the only time they have to work.
Don't get me wrong, shows are awesome whether you're in the audience or on the stage, I'm not arguing that, I'm just saying there are these stupid, annoying things that really bug you when you're not into the music enough to let it dorwn out anything else. And again, even if that is the case, you're still going to notice the stupid wait and the assholes you have to deal with...unless of course you're one of them. If that's the case and you're reading this, then I'd like to ask you to just be mindful of the fact that those are real, actual people you're shoving and rubbing and knocking around. I know "personal space" isn't really a thing at shows, and to a degree, I understand that, but still, remember that just because letting someone touch your ass is usually given as a privelege doesn't mean it's so on someone who's not hitting on you. And for the guys, well same thing really, and I guess this can go for girls too, seriously don't think you're Moses and that people will part for you when you want to get closer. No. How about getting there earlier?
Again, I know I sound like a real prick who needs to learn how to have fun, but I just don't want to do it at the expense of other people, since I obviously know what it's like to be the person who's...well...all of the above. This is just another reason you should go see a bunch of local bands...because someday when they actually write a song you love to death (or if they already have) they'll magically attract enough people to make all this crowd-shuffling rubbish go on.
Monday, March 5, 2012
The Little Creeper
I love being friends with hot girls on Facebook. Not because they're hot, but because when they're single and lonely, they'll post these funny little statuses about how much they'd like to meet someone, or how much they wish someone would speak out about being in love with them. Do I love that because it's something I can take advantage of and use to score a date? Hell no, I'm way too shy for that shit. It's because I'm completely cognizant of the reasons why I feel to shy for that shit.
There's this old cliche, "be careful what you wish for," that probably not a lot of people think about when they post a status like that. A lot of them are indeed careful to specify they want a "wonderful" person rather than, y'know, a "creep." We'll come back to that word. What's funny is that that little cliche has everything to do with a post about looking for love. It's not necessarily that some womanizer, chronic ex-girlfriend beater, or rapist is going to come out of the woodwork in response. Those aren't the funny and interesting ones. The ones they want to watch out for are exactly what they want.
If you know me a little bit, you probably know who I'm talking about since I fall into the category myself, roughly. I'm talking about the not-so-attractive, nerdy dudes who've happened to fall in love with someone way out of their league. These guys might be all the wonderful adjectives the girls in question describe: honest, kind, witty, trustworthy, but they don't speak up. Well, some of them do just because it's their first time, but a lot of them won't speak up. Why? Rejection. I already sort of explained it. "She's out of their league." That's interesting since she just said she wanted this kind, honest guy and well, here he is.
Now, I'm not saying this happens in every case and that everyone considered attractive by the general population is a shallow jerkass. I know that's not true, but there are probably a good number of guys (or girls, since this can definitely go the other way around), suprising number even, that won't speak up just because of this "league" concept that's been in place since God knows when. It's kind of a norm now that we don't expect hot girls to date these little nerdy types, and when you start to think about the scenario I've cooked up, it makes less and less sense. There he is, answering her prayer legitimately and bam! nope, denied.
That's what's kind of funny about the whole thing, is that for every plea she posts, there's some unattactive guy unable to answer her that she doesn't know about. I get to smile and say "be careful what you wish for," because in putting some brave little man in his proper league, she might just be passing up on a guy that's perfect for her had she been a little less judgmental or something. It'd be interesting as hell to someday see a girl/guy that does that come back and post a status like "Well guess I should've thought that one out more," or "I'm sorry [boy/girl who's currently sulking in their own league]," because as it is now there's not all that much reflection on the path not taken when there was a fork in the road. In fact, the way some people act I wonder if they even saw that it was a fork in their road. It's like the answer's so obvious there's not even a what if scenario...just "well, you're out of my league so nope."
I'm not just talking out of my ass here, I'll admit I've had this happen to me before. This was back in the days of Myspace, and this girl I liked posted a survey in a bulletin (dear God I'm speaking in ancient terms here) in which she answered the question "If someone liked you right now, would you want them to tell you?" with "Yes." So I decided to grow a pair of balls and message this chick. So I did, and being me, it was this long winded thing about...I don't even know, but in true me style it was probably a lot longer than it should have been. She replied that she had a guy and wasn't looking (I think). But she later posted a status that read "Gosh, people have been such creepsters lately." Me being paranoid due to rejection in the past, I thought it was about it me. Gossip through the grapevine eventually told me that I was...well, amongst other things. So I've been there, and y'know it's funny, because I don't see it as a missed opportunity anymore, and I don't really feel sorry for her.
I support all the little creepers out there in the wrong league, and I grin and shake my head at all those that set up situations like mine. Yeah, go ahead, ask them to come and find you, just don't wonder- wait no, DO wonder why all of these little creeps start telling you they love you.
There's this old cliche, "be careful what you wish for," that probably not a lot of people think about when they post a status like that. A lot of them are indeed careful to specify they want a "wonderful" person rather than, y'know, a "creep." We'll come back to that word. What's funny is that that little cliche has everything to do with a post about looking for love. It's not necessarily that some womanizer, chronic ex-girlfriend beater, or rapist is going to come out of the woodwork in response. Those aren't the funny and interesting ones. The ones they want to watch out for are exactly what they want.
If you know me a little bit, you probably know who I'm talking about since I fall into the category myself, roughly. I'm talking about the not-so-attractive, nerdy dudes who've happened to fall in love with someone way out of their league. These guys might be all the wonderful adjectives the girls in question describe: honest, kind, witty, trustworthy, but they don't speak up. Well, some of them do just because it's their first time, but a lot of them won't speak up. Why? Rejection. I already sort of explained it. "She's out of their league." That's interesting since she just said she wanted this kind, honest guy and well, here he is.
Now, I'm not saying this happens in every case and that everyone considered attractive by the general population is a shallow jerkass. I know that's not true, but there are probably a good number of guys (or girls, since this can definitely go the other way around), suprising number even, that won't speak up just because of this "league" concept that's been in place since God knows when. It's kind of a norm now that we don't expect hot girls to date these little nerdy types, and when you start to think about the scenario I've cooked up, it makes less and less sense. There he is, answering her prayer legitimately and bam! nope, denied.
That's what's kind of funny about the whole thing, is that for every plea she posts, there's some unattactive guy unable to answer her that she doesn't know about. I get to smile and say "be careful what you wish for," because in putting some brave little man in his proper league, she might just be passing up on a guy that's perfect for her had she been a little less judgmental or something. It'd be interesting as hell to someday see a girl/guy that does that come back and post a status like "Well guess I should've thought that one out more," or "I'm sorry [boy/girl who's currently sulking in their own league]," because as it is now there's not all that much reflection on the path not taken when there was a fork in the road. In fact, the way some people act I wonder if they even saw that it was a fork in their road. It's like the answer's so obvious there's not even a what if scenario...just "well, you're out of my league so nope."
I'm not just talking out of my ass here, I'll admit I've had this happen to me before. This was back in the days of Myspace, and this girl I liked posted a survey in a bulletin (dear God I'm speaking in ancient terms here) in which she answered the question "If someone liked you right now, would you want them to tell you?" with "Yes." So I decided to grow a pair of balls and message this chick. So I did, and being me, it was this long winded thing about...I don't even know, but in true me style it was probably a lot longer than it should have been. She replied that she had a guy and wasn't looking (I think). But she later posted a status that read "Gosh, people have been such creepsters lately." Me being paranoid due to rejection in the past, I thought it was about it me. Gossip through the grapevine eventually told me that I was...well, amongst other things. So I've been there, and y'know it's funny, because I don't see it as a missed opportunity anymore, and I don't really feel sorry for her.
I support all the little creepers out there in the wrong league, and I grin and shake my head at all those that set up situations like mine. Yeah, go ahead, ask them to come and find you, just don't wonder- wait no, DO wonder why all of these little creeps start telling you they love you.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
The Best Was First
Yeah, yeah it's been a while but no one reads this thing and I wish I had more views so people might notice. Blah.
I'd like to talk about a brief time in which people took noticed because they had to. People paying attention, nay, discussing me? It gets better. This place was in a college classroom. Did this just turn into one huge non-sequitur in the style of the Twilight Zone? Well, kind of. My first semester at college I took English 315: Writing Fiction, and it was the best time I ever spent at college. I didn't think college could be so good. Why?
Well, that's kind of interesting. See, it's a pretty awkward moment when you walk into a class with an X-Wing t-shirt and one of the first things that gets said is "this isn't a class for writing science fiction or fantasy." Normally, this would totally blow my bubble, but I actually took it pretty well. Besides, these college english classes aren't supposed to be fun, right? After two years of them in high school, it was kind of a given that I wouldn't be writing any MageBoy here. Of course, it got better when, after we turned in our first assignment and the professor used mine as a bad example of scene setting.
See, this was one of the ways that this class told me I didn't suck at writing. After that first assignment? I started kicking ass. Let me have a minute to toot my own horn here. I did really well in this class, to the point where the professor told me I was one of the people he thought was going to bring the class average up. Considering this was my first semester at college and I was in a class with people who were older and more experienced than me, that's pretty damn good. So despite not even being able to write in the genre I was most familiar with, I came in, kicked ass, and had a good time.
The good time came in the form of the structure of the class. There weren't any tests, which is always a plus. It was just you, a few small story assignments, and two 4000 word stories. That's a really relaxed class, and I'll never say no to a class that doesn't take itself overly seriously. The class was kind of lame in the first few weeks (this was a night class that met once a week) since we were just reading short stories and talking about them that way, but after we wrote or first long story, things got amazing.
For the two big stories, the class was set up such that we'd come in, get in a circle, and discuss five or six of the stories for that week. We didn't have to write papers on them or anything. Even if we did, it would have been awesome. What made it so damn cool was that we were discussing other people's stories. The authors weren't dead in the ground somewhere. They were sitting in the room, albeit unable to talk until the end of the discussion of their story. It was so much more real knowing where these people were coming from, especially since they tended to write things based on their own experiences. Furthermore, the discussion about the stories was actually insightful. This wasn't Youtube where someone would chime in with "this so fucking fake and gay you should just kill yourself now because it sucks so bad!" No, you were being monitored and graded here. It was the one time that a college classroom setting was actually conducive to creative productivity.
For me, having something I wrote be talked about for twenty minutes was something of a dream come true in minature for me. They were talking about ME, dammit! My attention whore center of my brain actually got stimulated when I wrote something! I like to lay little traps in my fiction that could be solved through hard thinking, and I remember writing it down whenever someone talked about said trap not being clear. It meant they weren't thinking quite as hard as I would've liked, but I didn't really expect them to since I wouldn't return the favor. It did mean, however, that they were thinking in the directions I wanted them too, and were feeling what I wanted them to feel or debating when I wanted them to debate. Talk is always what lets you know things are going exactly as planned.
Like I mentioned before, you got to know the people pretty well too, partially through their stories and partially through what they said about other people's stories. It was a nice mix of people too. You had the hardcore scifi/tech guy, a football player, a real poetic artsy looking-girl, a cheerleader or two, a slacker, an older woman from the south, some girls that looked like they just didn't care, and a few quieter people. By the end of that class, I knew my classmates better than I would in any class for at least the next year and a half, since I haven't even come close to knowing my other classmates that well. You only ran across a few people that really didn't put together a good story, so not only did you get to write stuff and have it be talked about, you got to read and talk about some good stuff too. The fact that this class came to be entirely centered on its students was awesome to me.
That's how it should be done, isn't it? The students get treated like actual intelligent people and are respected, however briefly, as real authors. This wasn't lectures that lead to a test meant to trip you up and show you how poorly you studied the night before. It wasn't using examples written by people from another time and place to try and get your interest. Nope, a good majority of the class' content was created by the people who were in it at the time. There's an ad out there on the web right now that gloats "I dont take classes, I experience them." I'd believe that if they were talking about this Writing Fiction class.
See, that's what I love. Every other class out there, especially in English, is centered around some person that wrote a bunch of years ago. I mean, how do you feel when I mention Thoreau or Hemingway? Unless you're someone who's into it, it's probably some seriously bad news and makes you lament not bringing a pillow to class. You spend plenty of time reading about other people and their discoveries, accomplishments and creations. Every other class is about things that other people did, and the older the content seems to be, the less interesting it seems to be. This class was so refreshing because it made you learn from things YOU did with YOUR audience, and the things that other people like you did with their audience. It was so...real. And I got two really good stories out of it too...like stories I can tell other people and use to entertain them...if only they were getting graded for it....
Ah, nuts, COME BACK ENGLISH 315!
I'd like to talk about a brief time in which people took noticed because they had to. People paying attention, nay, discussing me? It gets better. This place was in a college classroom. Did this just turn into one huge non-sequitur in the style of the Twilight Zone? Well, kind of. My first semester at college I took English 315: Writing Fiction, and it was the best time I ever spent at college. I didn't think college could be so good. Why?
Well, that's kind of interesting. See, it's a pretty awkward moment when you walk into a class with an X-Wing t-shirt and one of the first things that gets said is "this isn't a class for writing science fiction or fantasy." Normally, this would totally blow my bubble, but I actually took it pretty well. Besides, these college english classes aren't supposed to be fun, right? After two years of them in high school, it was kind of a given that I wouldn't be writing any MageBoy here. Of course, it got better when, after we turned in our first assignment and the professor used mine as a bad example of scene setting.
See, this was one of the ways that this class told me I didn't suck at writing. After that first assignment? I started kicking ass. Let me have a minute to toot my own horn here. I did really well in this class, to the point where the professor told me I was one of the people he thought was going to bring the class average up. Considering this was my first semester at college and I was in a class with people who were older and more experienced than me, that's pretty damn good. So despite not even being able to write in the genre I was most familiar with, I came in, kicked ass, and had a good time.
The good time came in the form of the structure of the class. There weren't any tests, which is always a plus. It was just you, a few small story assignments, and two 4000 word stories. That's a really relaxed class, and I'll never say no to a class that doesn't take itself overly seriously. The class was kind of lame in the first few weeks (this was a night class that met once a week) since we were just reading short stories and talking about them that way, but after we wrote or first long story, things got amazing.
For the two big stories, the class was set up such that we'd come in, get in a circle, and discuss five or six of the stories for that week. We didn't have to write papers on them or anything. Even if we did, it would have been awesome. What made it so damn cool was that we were discussing other people's stories. The authors weren't dead in the ground somewhere. They were sitting in the room, albeit unable to talk until the end of the discussion of their story. It was so much more real knowing where these people were coming from, especially since they tended to write things based on their own experiences. Furthermore, the discussion about the stories was actually insightful. This wasn't Youtube where someone would chime in with "this so fucking fake and gay you should just kill yourself now because it sucks so bad!" No, you were being monitored and graded here. It was the one time that a college classroom setting was actually conducive to creative productivity.
For me, having something I wrote be talked about for twenty minutes was something of a dream come true in minature for me. They were talking about ME, dammit! My attention whore center of my brain actually got stimulated when I wrote something! I like to lay little traps in my fiction that could be solved through hard thinking, and I remember writing it down whenever someone talked about said trap not being clear. It meant they weren't thinking quite as hard as I would've liked, but I didn't really expect them to since I wouldn't return the favor. It did mean, however, that they were thinking in the directions I wanted them too, and were feeling what I wanted them to feel or debating when I wanted them to debate. Talk is always what lets you know things are going exactly as planned.
Like I mentioned before, you got to know the people pretty well too, partially through their stories and partially through what they said about other people's stories. It was a nice mix of people too. You had the hardcore scifi/tech guy, a football player, a real poetic artsy looking-girl, a cheerleader or two, a slacker, an older woman from the south, some girls that looked like they just didn't care, and a few quieter people. By the end of that class, I knew my classmates better than I would in any class for at least the next year and a half, since I haven't even come close to knowing my other classmates that well. You only ran across a few people that really didn't put together a good story, so not only did you get to write stuff and have it be talked about, you got to read and talk about some good stuff too. The fact that this class came to be entirely centered on its students was awesome to me.
That's how it should be done, isn't it? The students get treated like actual intelligent people and are respected, however briefly, as real authors. This wasn't lectures that lead to a test meant to trip you up and show you how poorly you studied the night before. It wasn't using examples written by people from another time and place to try and get your interest. Nope, a good majority of the class' content was created by the people who were in it at the time. There's an ad out there on the web right now that gloats "I dont take classes, I experience them." I'd believe that if they were talking about this Writing Fiction class.
See, that's what I love. Every other class out there, especially in English, is centered around some person that wrote a bunch of years ago. I mean, how do you feel when I mention Thoreau or Hemingway? Unless you're someone who's into it, it's probably some seriously bad news and makes you lament not bringing a pillow to class. You spend plenty of time reading about other people and their discoveries, accomplishments and creations. Every other class is about things that other people did, and the older the content seems to be, the less interesting it seems to be. This class was so refreshing because it made you learn from things YOU did with YOUR audience, and the things that other people like you did with their audience. It was so...real. And I got two really good stories out of it too...like stories I can tell other people and use to entertain them...if only they were getting graded for it....
Ah, nuts, COME BACK ENGLISH 315!
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