If it weren't for this contraption on my lap and the fact that the fireplace is gas and not woodburning I would feel exactly as though I had gone back in time. It's quiet here in the lobby of my old college dormitory. You can see the beams in the ceiling and the detailed woodwork on the cabinets and chairs. I can picture students here years ago chatting about Lewis and Tolstoy as they sat around the fireplace with coffee and tea. Of course you can't do that now, no food or beverages allowed. Earlier it wasn't so quiet. The cleaning ladies were in, polishing furniture, vacuuming and gossiping complaints about their job or social life. It really terrified me as I read Kerouac's Dharma Bums that my first thought was "servants should be seen not heard" (or not even seen) I wanted to read (and later nap) in peace and that was not going to happen. What a snob I am. First, they are not my servants, I'm not rich enough to have servants, and even if I were I probably wouldn't because I like to do the work myself, generally speaking. Second, I don't even live here anymore! Who am I to complain that they are doing their work as they do everyday and I'm interrupting it with my presence. However, I kept my mouth tightly shut, chastised myself for such cruel and silly thoughts and went on to read a lovely chapter in Kerouac and promptly nap when the vacuuming had finished.
Now it's quiet. there are a few of us in here studying, speaking only in hushed tones, and some girls traipsing in and out as they go to and from their dorm rooms. The sounds here echo, something about the construction and the high ceiling in the adjacent room. It's actually a lovely feature if you aren't trying to nap. and I'm not anymore so it's grand.
I do wonder what's gone on in this room over the years, did a literary rebel such as myself sit here and read on a couch like this in front of this fire? How about a time when all the boys came visiting because girls couldn't even go over to their dorm rooms? Just through the doors two rooms away is the old cafeteria where only the girls dined, but the men would come over to serve them. I think that's a lovely concept. I'm all for liberated women, I don't think I could live in a time when it wasn't acceptable for me to wear jeans and a t-shirt out and about. I don't know how Ms. Alcott did it. But there is something to be said for chivalry.
I was thinking the other day, after reading chapter 5, that perhaps we have liberated ourselves too far. In order to be seen as equals, to be taken seriously by men, I believe at times we have devalued ourselves and our sex. Men are free and easy about sex and women have over the course of time come to the belief that they as well should be free, and quite literally easy. Believing, as I think is part of Kerouac's point, (though I hate to be the type to put thoughts to a work which were unintended by it's author) that since a woman cannot be equal to a man physically, mentally, spiritually, we can at least be so sexually. And so we do what men want, thinking it's what we want and we lose our true selves in the process. We wind up naked, curled in a ball on the kitchen floor "just for nothing, just to do it." Kerouac writes over and over how she liked it, she really did, it allowed her to be "the mother of us all" to be on an equal playing field with the men, her sex allowed her to be a "Bodhisattva" (just the way the holy concubines were taken back in the day). I can't be sure if Kerouac wants us to believe this, or wants to demonstrate that his main character Ray is trying to make himself believe it by saying over and over how she really did like it...it seems he's protesting too much. Especially since Ray has doubts about the whole experience because of his belief that lust leads to birth and birth to pain and death.
I find it interesting we still expect so much of men when we are the ones who have lowered the standards. We laugh at the saying, "no man will buy the cow when he can get the milk for free" and yet so many of us live it everyday. and, we or society have convinced ourselves that it's what we want. We just want to be wanted and loved and so we settle, for less than our best and so drive our men to settle for less than their best.
I don't intend for this to be a treatise on the negative effects of the feminist movement (like I said, I love wearing pants) But I also question if we have let "equality of the sexes" go too far and what it's impact will be on the future of our society? I consider myself more of a feminist than many of the women here at a christian conservative college, but I suppose if you stuck me at Berkley I'd be a prude. I wish others of my sex could learn to revel in the strength, power and beauty of being a woman and try to be less like men. Though I suppose I'm the worst to judge on that subject, considering myself a "tom-boy" who would rather watch and play sports than watch a chick flick, or play with dolls. At college I discovered the power and joy of femininity and I wonder if we valued ourselves and our sex more for what it is, than try to be what it is not, if we couldn't make a more powerful impact on the world around us?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Few and Far between
I have been writing. Just not here. There's something about writing in my journal that just feels more true. It's as though when I open up my moleskin to a blank new page I feel connected with Hemingway and other great writers in a way that I just don't feel when typing on the computer. Granted right now I'm reading Dharma Bums for the first time and there is something about typing that makes me feel connected to Kerouac. (even if he had a typewriter, not a computer) There is a free flow to Dharma Bums which is similar to my stream of conscious writing on the computer. A disjointed, poetic drunkenness that is strong and beautiful. Sometimes I wonder what Kerouac would think of our modern interpretations of his works. If he would tell me nicely that I am an idiot (which I doubt since at the beginning of Dharma Bums he's all about kindness) or if he would just smile at my naivete and say nothing, or if he would think I actually got it on some level.
Point being (Dad) I have been writing. I suppose it doesn't do any good to keep it wrapped up in my journal. If you write to change the world you have to risk exposure and failure, something I'm constantly fearful of.
Silver webs shiver in golden shadows,
The fading glory of another day.
Naked bones stretch to the sky
Hungry, yearning to be made new.
The broken bark sticks hard in my back,
A harsh reminder of reality
As the golden orb slowly sinks
the horizon alters its hue
A crisp clear blue, burned off haze,
unhindered by chasing clouds.
I drink deep the cool fall air
sweetened by an early moon
Peace comes easily in Autumn.
Some days I think I'm a terrible poet. probably because I don't try terribly hard to understand all that rhyme and meter and scanning stuff Dr. Potter tries so desperately to teach me. I think I'm just more of a free verse poet, or as I like to say, a lazy poet. But sometimes, I write something that I think just brushes the surface of something beautiful and I'm almost proud. Proud enough at least to expose myself to the world for its caprice.
I will try to write here more often. until then.
Point being (Dad) I have been writing. I suppose it doesn't do any good to keep it wrapped up in my journal. If you write to change the world you have to risk exposure and failure, something I'm constantly fearful of.
Silver webs shiver in golden shadows,
The fading glory of another day.
Naked bones stretch to the sky
Hungry, yearning to be made new.
The broken bark sticks hard in my back,
A harsh reminder of reality
As the golden orb slowly sinks
the horizon alters its hue
A crisp clear blue, burned off haze,
unhindered by chasing clouds.
I drink deep the cool fall air
sweetened by an early moon
Peace comes easily in Autumn.
Some days I think I'm a terrible poet. probably because I don't try terribly hard to understand all that rhyme and meter and scanning stuff Dr. Potter tries so desperately to teach me. I think I'm just more of a free verse poet, or as I like to say, a lazy poet. But sometimes, I write something that I think just brushes the surface of something beautiful and I'm almost proud. Proud enough at least to expose myself to the world for its caprice.
I will try to write here more often. until then.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
"I have never wished to cater to the crowd; for what I know they do not approve, and what they approve I do not know."-Epicurus
I should be reviewing Wall Street Journal Articles for class...but I'm not. Instead I'm frustrated and a little angry at the Grove City Theater Dept. I wrote a play last year and I've submitted it to be used in the One Act festival twice, neither time was it accepted. I also adapted Mark Twain's "The Diary of Adam and Eve" for the stage this summer and submitted it, it was also not selected. Now, certainly I have a bit of wounded pride at this, but that's not what this article is about. (Every writer should face failure and learn to deal with it) The thing is, the coordinators for the festival actually enjoyed my plays, though they found the one I had written too dark for a festival they wanted to be full of comedies (it has it's moments but it's no tragedy...) and they questioned Twain's theology and it's use on a Christian campus. Ok, I disagree, but ok. Until that is, they tell me they still want me to direct and I have my choice between two plays: one boring and not really suited to what I want to do senior year, and the second, which I chose, a slightly riske play about a husband and wife and the husband's ex-girlfriends visit (which consists of a big ol kiss and a sketchy backrub) <--The theology of this is not questionable? Sure Mark Twain has some unorthodox views of the first man and wife, he humanizes them *GASP* oh no! he humanized humans? but but but, that just makes my world crumble!!!
It seems that we are only concerned with differing theology when it is placed before us in a way that we cannot avoid questioning. A play that has no mention of God, but portrays action that flies in the face of his commandments, that's ok...but heaven forbid Adam say that wherever he went with Eve a part of Eden was with him...blasphemer. Likewise, we want a play that makes us laugh, not one that makes us think, or desire a relationship with Christ, we just want to laugh.
Well it's a week from the show going up, I'm frustrated, my coordinator just told me he thinks the way I'm portraying the backrub scene is sketchy and awkward....it's the way it's written! ("I just always pictured her sitting up" ...it says flops over on the bed!!)
Sure I could censor the script, I could cut out the scene (and the play would make a lot less sense) I could continue to edit words like promiscuous (already did that...apparently it's an inappropriate descriptor...) and other moments that make the audience understand why Wanda is such an odd character and an irritation to Marsha (Jim's wife) but then what would the play be? anything? I've already made edits I'm sure the writer wouldn't approve of, but that I have to make bc it's GCC. So Instead of asking me to edit the last line of the play I adapted, to make it a little less like Eve was replacing God (which I don't think was Twain's point) I'm changing a whole lot more of the play, and I'm still uncomfortable and stressed.
I don't want to cater to the crowd but I don't have a choice. Or do I? I'm only here one semester. I'm seriously considering an underground production of either the bus stop or the diary of adam and eve...
It seems that we are only concerned with differing theology when it is placed before us in a way that we cannot avoid questioning. A play that has no mention of God, but portrays action that flies in the face of his commandments, that's ok...but heaven forbid Adam say that wherever he went with Eve a part of Eden was with him...blasphemer. Likewise, we want a play that makes us laugh, not one that makes us think, or desire a relationship with Christ, we just want to laugh.
Well it's a week from the show going up, I'm frustrated, my coordinator just told me he thinks the way I'm portraying the backrub scene is sketchy and awkward....it's the way it's written! ("I just always pictured her sitting up" ...it says flops over on the bed!!)
Sure I could censor the script, I could cut out the scene (and the play would make a lot less sense) I could continue to edit words like promiscuous (already did that...apparently it's an inappropriate descriptor...) and other moments that make the audience understand why Wanda is such an odd character and an irritation to Marsha (Jim's wife) but then what would the play be? anything? I've already made edits I'm sure the writer wouldn't approve of, but that I have to make bc it's GCC. So Instead of asking me to edit the last line of the play I adapted, to make it a little less like Eve was replacing God (which I don't think was Twain's point) I'm changing a whole lot more of the play, and I'm still uncomfortable and stressed.
I don't want to cater to the crowd but I don't have a choice. Or do I? I'm only here one semester. I'm seriously considering an underground production of either the bus stop or the diary of adam and eve...
Thursday, September 9, 2010
why i run.
I walked into the house with my heart beating everywhere but inside my chest where it belonged. Head, arms, knees, feet, every inch of my body was pulsating. I was drenched in sweat and my face was blood red. The pain in my knees was closing in on unbearable. I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. I gulped it down and filled up two more. Walked into the living room and collapsed on the floor “stretching.” I had just run 8 miles. The farthest I’ve ever run. You distance runners out there are probably thinking “psh that’s nothing, I can run 8 miles in my sleep.” But I’m a sprinter, I run hurdles, and in practice I never run more than 4 miles, tops. And this year I sprained my ankle going over a hurdle so I wasn’t even running that. So to go from 2-3 miles “a day” to 8, well that’s huge for me.
That’s not what this is about. This is about the sentence in that paragraph you probably read over without thinking, taking it for granted. Guess which one it is? “I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. I gulped it down and filled up two more.” Here in America so many of us are blessed with clean drinking water right from the tap. Even more of us here live on or around the cleanest lake in New York State (possible all the U.S.) and can walk right down, dive right in and drink up as much as they want. This is a beautiful and blessed thing.
For people living in poverty in Africa, this is nearly impossible. They have to walk miles a day just to reach a water source that is not even clean and appropriate for drinking. They can’t just reach for the tap and fill a glass of clean, pure water that is safe from disease. Kids miss school because they have to make these water walks, and take care of their families.
That’s why I went for an 8 mile run. I’m running in the Skinnyman Triathlon in Skaneateles, NY with Team Active:Water. Active:Water is an organization that uses donations made to support their athletes to provide clean drinking water to impoverished countries. Right now they work with Blood:Water Mission and Seeds of Hope International, but as they expand, they will be working with more and more organizations worldwide to provide water to more countries in need. Athletes sign up to support the organization through the different events they participate in and then get donations to support them in the race, and all the funds go directly to Active:Water where they are used to give individuals clean water, families water filters, and even build clean water wells, providing clean water for entire villages.
Sure there is a story in my triathlon training without this, it’s hard and it hurts and it makes me feel great about what I can achieve, but it’s not the story I want to tell. I want to tell a story about other people, and how I was able to affect them. How other people were able to help me affect them. I want to tell how I was able to use my gifts to bring something wonderful to people. What story do you want to tell?
copyright M. Markley June 2010
That’s not what this is about. This is about the sentence in that paragraph you probably read over without thinking, taking it for granted. Guess which one it is? “I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. I gulped it down and filled up two more.” Here in America so many of us are blessed with clean drinking water right from the tap. Even more of us here live on or around the cleanest lake in New York State (possible all the U.S.) and can walk right down, dive right in and drink up as much as they want. This is a beautiful and blessed thing.
For people living in poverty in Africa, this is nearly impossible. They have to walk miles a day just to reach a water source that is not even clean and appropriate for drinking. They can’t just reach for the tap and fill a glass of clean, pure water that is safe from disease. Kids miss school because they have to make these water walks, and take care of their families.
That’s why I went for an 8 mile run. I’m running in the Skinnyman Triathlon in Skaneateles, NY with Team Active:Water. Active:Water is an organization that uses donations made to support their athletes to provide clean drinking water to impoverished countries. Right now they work with Blood:Water Mission and Seeds of Hope International, but as they expand, they will be working with more and more organizations worldwide to provide water to more countries in need. Athletes sign up to support the organization through the different events they participate in and then get donations to support them in the race, and all the funds go directly to Active:Water where they are used to give individuals clean water, families water filters, and even build clean water wells, providing clean water for entire villages.
Sure there is a story in my triathlon training without this, it’s hard and it hurts and it makes me feel great about what I can achieve, but it’s not the story I want to tell. I want to tell a story about other people, and how I was able to affect them. How other people were able to help me affect them. I want to tell how I was able to use my gifts to bring something wonderful to people. What story do you want to tell?
copyright M. Markley June 2010
Urban Cowboy
Urban Cowboy
On the streets he roams, looking for a home
Wide brimmed hat worn and flapping
And a ring for each finger to show where he’s been
He stares at me through the window
Do I remind him of someone from long ago
Does he remember that week a year ago
Smoking a cig on the park bench relaxed before the storm,
I catch him staring at me once more
I nod and he nods in return
Chivalry or memory
His scraggly gray hair lies just at his shoulders
Peering out under the hat
Short gray beard well kept for where he’s been
His eyes pierce mine and I have to look away
I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he feels
But I feel like if I kept my eyes locked I’d get lost in that dark soul
He played his music once, and has a cd
We got to listen to it at breakfast that day
Who are you and where have you been
Urban cowboy who calls the streets home
Who walks the new frontier
What do you think of us both being here
What brings us, old and young to watch for the break in the clouds, for the sun
If I went out, would you speak to me,
your eyes hardly leave mine
Urban Cowboy what’s on your mind
How did we get to this strange place and time?
copyright M. Markley 2010
On the streets he roams, looking for a home
Wide brimmed hat worn and flapping
And a ring for each finger to show where he’s been
He stares at me through the window
Do I remind him of someone from long ago
Does he remember that week a year ago
Smoking a cig on the park bench relaxed before the storm,
I catch him staring at me once more
I nod and he nods in return
Chivalry or memory
His scraggly gray hair lies just at his shoulders
Peering out under the hat
Short gray beard well kept for where he’s been
His eyes pierce mine and I have to look away
I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he feels
But I feel like if I kept my eyes locked I’d get lost in that dark soul
He played his music once, and has a cd
We got to listen to it at breakfast that day
Who are you and where have you been
Urban cowboy who calls the streets home
Who walks the new frontier
What do you think of us both being here
What brings us, old and young to watch for the break in the clouds, for the sun
If I went out, would you speak to me,
your eyes hardly leave mine
Urban Cowboy what’s on your mind
How did we get to this strange place and time?
copyright M. Markley 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
MSG
MSG
The town video rental store is closed and vacated. Just another sign of the times and the growing dependency on Netflix, Redbox and internet downloads. Our society is becoming less and less tangible, books are now on electronic readers like the Kindle and the Nook and even the ipad, which was invented simply because we expect new and innovating things from Apple. I wasn’t very attached to this video store, so it’s closing didn’t affect me the way the closing of the Wegman’s video store, where we got all our videos as children, did. This store only had new releases to movies from 30 years ago, no classics, easily replaceable by Redbox which also carries new releases. The only thing I’m sad to see go about this store is movie store guy. As we drove by the empty store front this morning we thought to ourselves, where is he now?
An iconic figure here in town, MSG, as we fondly referred to him behind his back, bears a striking resemblance to Philip Seymour Hoffman, enhancing his movie store guy title. MSG and I would often lament the lack of classic titles in the rental store, if he had his way they would have had a lot more. (A similar conundrum has been discussed between myself and members of the local bookstore which has a classics sections consisting of exactly 3 tiny shelves) He would tender recommendations which were dead on 99% of the time and when returning, we would discuss recently viewed films. He reminded me of Jack Black’s character in High Fidelity.
I suppose I’m a bit behind my generation with respect to this whole technological craze, I prefer to read my books on paper, and while I appreciate my laptop, and its ease in getting my ideas on “paper” I prefer pen and ink. No one writes letters anymore, no one reads books anymore, and even our movies are becoming more and more intangible. My cell phone only sends calls and text messages, I don’t have internet capabilities, and I’m ok with that, because it’s a phone…for calling people…to talk to them. I have an appreciation for technology, the quality of my TV is better with Fios, so is the speed of my internet, I use my computer and internet frequently, I have a facebook and was coerced into getting a twitter, social networking is the way things are going and I need to be on board I suppose. So I’m not ranting against technology, and I have plenty of artsy friends who love the Kindle, especially because classics are free, which I admit, is the most convincing argument I’ve heard for it yet. However, I think that something is going to be seriously lost in our society and our communication with each other if we continue to let all these intangible technologies seep into our lives and watch people like MSG slowly fade into the background.
When I first heard of the Kindle I worried about a Farenheight 451 bookpocalypse. What would happen to the books people simply didn’t want to put online, didn’t want to make available? How would the technology of the Kindle effect authors and the way they wrote books and how would it’s cheap prices effect author’s wallets, ergo, someday my wallet? But I find myself slowly less adamant about its evils, though I really do prefer a book in my hands. The other day I was sitting in a pub downtown when an old Irish gentleman stole my attention from my book by saying how impressed he was to find me reading and that no one ever reads books anymore. I was so sad to hear this, because reading books is wonderful and it seems to be something that many people ascribe to the “educated” or “English major types” or excuse themselves as “not really a book person.” For me, as an English major, and a lover of books far before I ever defined myself as such, I can’t see how anyone would not want to read. However, I think about how much of my time is allocated to TV and the computer, and how different that is from when I was a child when I didn’t have a computer (no internet at home until I was 13) and we had 10 channels on our TV, one of which was PBS and I used to watch Wishbone when I wasn’t reading a book. I find myself distracted more, and with 250 channels, I don’t even watch my 3 Netflix a month (I subscribed out of frustration at the lack of selection at the movie store…MSG was sympathetic).
I feel as though we are becoming a less and less intellectual society and wonder what it will be like to raise my kids in schools where the curriculum is dumbed down so the kids can pass exams, and channels that used to be educational, like the history channel, focus on myths like ancient aliens, Bigfoot and The DaVinci Code.
What are we doing with our time and energy, are we exercising our brains enough? If we continue to let technology do our work for us what’s going to happen to our society? I suppose I could be getting paranoid, but I’m a sentimental sucker. I love record stores and bookstore coffee shops and all that out of fashion good old fashion stuff. And I miss movie store guy.
The town video rental store is closed and vacated. Just another sign of the times and the growing dependency on Netflix, Redbox and internet downloads. Our society is becoming less and less tangible, books are now on electronic readers like the Kindle and the Nook and even the ipad, which was invented simply because we expect new and innovating things from Apple. I wasn’t very attached to this video store, so it’s closing didn’t affect me the way the closing of the Wegman’s video store, where we got all our videos as children, did. This store only had new releases to movies from 30 years ago, no classics, easily replaceable by Redbox which also carries new releases. The only thing I’m sad to see go about this store is movie store guy. As we drove by the empty store front this morning we thought to ourselves, where is he now?
An iconic figure here in town, MSG, as we fondly referred to him behind his back, bears a striking resemblance to Philip Seymour Hoffman, enhancing his movie store guy title. MSG and I would often lament the lack of classic titles in the rental store, if he had his way they would have had a lot more. (A similar conundrum has been discussed between myself and members of the local bookstore which has a classics sections consisting of exactly 3 tiny shelves) He would tender recommendations which were dead on 99% of the time and when returning, we would discuss recently viewed films. He reminded me of Jack Black’s character in High Fidelity.
I suppose I’m a bit behind my generation with respect to this whole technological craze, I prefer to read my books on paper, and while I appreciate my laptop, and its ease in getting my ideas on “paper” I prefer pen and ink. No one writes letters anymore, no one reads books anymore, and even our movies are becoming more and more intangible. My cell phone only sends calls and text messages, I don’t have internet capabilities, and I’m ok with that, because it’s a phone…for calling people…to talk to them. I have an appreciation for technology, the quality of my TV is better with Fios, so is the speed of my internet, I use my computer and internet frequently, I have a facebook and was coerced into getting a twitter, social networking is the way things are going and I need to be on board I suppose. So I’m not ranting against technology, and I have plenty of artsy friends who love the Kindle, especially because classics are free, which I admit, is the most convincing argument I’ve heard for it yet. However, I think that something is going to be seriously lost in our society and our communication with each other if we continue to let all these intangible technologies seep into our lives and watch people like MSG slowly fade into the background.
When I first heard of the Kindle I worried about a Farenheight 451 bookpocalypse. What would happen to the books people simply didn’t want to put online, didn’t want to make available? How would the technology of the Kindle effect authors and the way they wrote books and how would it’s cheap prices effect author’s wallets, ergo, someday my wallet? But I find myself slowly less adamant about its evils, though I really do prefer a book in my hands. The other day I was sitting in a pub downtown when an old Irish gentleman stole my attention from my book by saying how impressed he was to find me reading and that no one ever reads books anymore. I was so sad to hear this, because reading books is wonderful and it seems to be something that many people ascribe to the “educated” or “English major types” or excuse themselves as “not really a book person.” For me, as an English major, and a lover of books far before I ever defined myself as such, I can’t see how anyone would not want to read. However, I think about how much of my time is allocated to TV and the computer, and how different that is from when I was a child when I didn’t have a computer (no internet at home until I was 13) and we had 10 channels on our TV, one of which was PBS and I used to watch Wishbone when I wasn’t reading a book. I find myself distracted more, and with 250 channels, I don’t even watch my 3 Netflix a month (I subscribed out of frustration at the lack of selection at the movie store…MSG was sympathetic).
I feel as though we are becoming a less and less intellectual society and wonder what it will be like to raise my kids in schools where the curriculum is dumbed down so the kids can pass exams, and channels that used to be educational, like the history channel, focus on myths like ancient aliens, Bigfoot and The DaVinci Code.
What are we doing with our time and energy, are we exercising our brains enough? If we continue to let technology do our work for us what’s going to happen to our society? I suppose I could be getting paranoid, but I’m a sentimental sucker. I love record stores and bookstore coffee shops and all that out of fashion good old fashion stuff. And I miss movie store guy.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
write right
If I'm going to really pursue my dream of being a writer, copywriter or novelist, I need to really hone my skillz. Unfortunately, I, like most writers I know, am lazy. And I enjoy being lazy. oh sure when I have a deadline to pursue I get it done, and when I'm getting paid I can do the work, and do it pretty well. It's when it's just for me, or even potentially for something else that I always seem to find time to do something else. I can't seem to sit down and write something good start to finish, I mean I start with some great ideas that just fall flat as I get to the end. I want to be able to stick with it.
I have another problem. when I do write I don't like to show it to other people. I'm afraid of rejection, that they won't think I'm as good as I think I am, that I will pale in comparison to other writers, that the critics (who know nothing) will mock me, and well I'm not ready for any of that. I'm a chicken. how the great authors did it I don't know. granted they were great, but did they know they were great or did they second guess their talent just like me. Do I have the potential to be great or just mediocre?
"The presence alone of Faulkner in our midst makes a great difference in what the writer can and cannot permit himself to do. Nobody wants his mule and wagon stalled on the same track the Dixie Limited is roaring down." – Flannery O’Connor, The Grotesque in Southern Fiction
I have another problem. when I do write I don't like to show it to other people. I'm afraid of rejection, that they won't think I'm as good as I think I am, that I will pale in comparison to other writers, that the critics (who know nothing) will mock me, and well I'm not ready for any of that. I'm a chicken. how the great authors did it I don't know. granted they were great, but did they know they were great or did they second guess their talent just like me. Do I have the potential to be great or just mediocre?
"The presence alone of Faulkner in our midst makes a great difference in what the writer can and cannot permit himself to do. Nobody wants his mule and wagon stalled on the same track the Dixie Limited is roaring down." – Flannery O’Connor, The Grotesque in Southern Fiction
Monday, April 26, 2010
Water Water everywhere, but not a drop to drink
So I'm not sure who all reads this but if you do, please consider sponsoring me in this year's Skinnyman triathlon. I'm running for Active Water an organization that helps people in Africa get clean water (Blood: Water Mission) and learn how to work the land (Seeds of Hope Int'l). This is my site. check it:
http://www.active.com/donate/activewaterupick/mmskinnywoman
more info to come.
http://www.active.com/donate/activewaterupick/mmskinnywoman
more info to come.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Final Countdown
As I approach the end of my senior year in college I have to stop and think that it was nothing like I had ever expected. It has been wonderful and I have grown up so much, and learned so much about myself and the world around me that I hardly want to leave. Not so for many of my friends. They are quick to count down the days, some of them have been counting since January. We have just under a month left together and the last thing I want to do is count that away. It saddens me that we have such a tendency to look to the future and ignore the present. Granted, I also hate the reminder that I have 4 papers due in 30 days or less. and Granted, I should be reading Shelley right now but I'm procrastinating because I can't focus on that.
Now, I graduate in May with my friends but also come back in September to finish my second degree in December. So I don't have to go out to the real world yet, I don't have to get a job and I'm not even close to getting married (which more and more of my friends are it seems). But the thought of my closest friends moving on without me is hard. They will have new experiences that I will not have for another half a year. Then there's the thought I have about high school I had a great high school experience and I thought I would be friends with my high school friends for years, but by my sophomore year of college we had drifted apart. I've come to terms with this now, realizing we had too many differences in beliefs to stay friends long and that as we grew stronger in those beliefs or disbeliefs we would eventually separate. and while I don't worry about that issue with the friends I've made at school, I wonder if other things will drive a wedge between us.
My mom says this won't happen, she says I have such better relationships with my friends than she ever had. But still, she doesn't even talk to the maid of honor in her wedding anymore. will I be like that? Will my maid of honor even be someone I went to college with? (especially since I'm nowhere close to marriage) Will I be able to maintain relationships with people as we all move away (some overseas), get married, have kids? People say change is good, that it's natural, that we have phases in our life and people drift in and out. What if I don't want these people to drift out? Can I stop it? I think about how little I talk to the seniors that graduated last year and wonder if I'll go years between talking with my friends from school. I think about maggie and ange and jenny living just 10 minutes walk down in the apartments and how little I see or even speak to them and wonder what will happen when we're 10 hours apart.
I can't help not wanting to count down, wanting instead to try to slow time, to try to live in the moment and enjoy everything, even the academics. (shelley is beckoning) But I wonder if we can, and is that a good mentality? How can I find a balance between slowing down and speeding up? Am I, are we, supposed to? How can I be sure when the end of the year comes I won't be left standing alone, unsure and lost? When high school ended college started. now with college ending, what starts? how does it start? who does it start with? who is there to guide you through it? you're expected to be an adult by now, to figure these things out alone, to pay for everything even when you don't have a job. but how?
Last night I went out for dinner with some of my best friends and we raised our glasses to staying in college as long as we can, and I laughed because I am, but it also made me sad because the rest of them are leaving in a month. and let's be honest, staying in college as long as you can is no fun if your friends aren't there with you.
Song of the moment: I need you now, Lady Antebellum
Now, I graduate in May with my friends but also come back in September to finish my second degree in December. So I don't have to go out to the real world yet, I don't have to get a job and I'm not even close to getting married (which more and more of my friends are it seems). But the thought of my closest friends moving on without me is hard. They will have new experiences that I will not have for another half a year. Then there's the thought I have about high school I had a great high school experience and I thought I would be friends with my high school friends for years, but by my sophomore year of college we had drifted apart. I've come to terms with this now, realizing we had too many differences in beliefs to stay friends long and that as we grew stronger in those beliefs or disbeliefs we would eventually separate. and while I don't worry about that issue with the friends I've made at school, I wonder if other things will drive a wedge between us.
My mom says this won't happen, she says I have such better relationships with my friends than she ever had. But still, she doesn't even talk to the maid of honor in her wedding anymore. will I be like that? Will my maid of honor even be someone I went to college with? (especially since I'm nowhere close to marriage) Will I be able to maintain relationships with people as we all move away (some overseas), get married, have kids? People say change is good, that it's natural, that we have phases in our life and people drift in and out. What if I don't want these people to drift out? Can I stop it? I think about how little I talk to the seniors that graduated last year and wonder if I'll go years between talking with my friends from school. I think about maggie and ange and jenny living just 10 minutes walk down in the apartments and how little I see or even speak to them and wonder what will happen when we're 10 hours apart.
I can't help not wanting to count down, wanting instead to try to slow time, to try to live in the moment and enjoy everything, even the academics. (shelley is beckoning) But I wonder if we can, and is that a good mentality? How can I find a balance between slowing down and speeding up? Am I, are we, supposed to? How can I be sure when the end of the year comes I won't be left standing alone, unsure and lost? When high school ended college started. now with college ending, what starts? how does it start? who does it start with? who is there to guide you through it? you're expected to be an adult by now, to figure these things out alone, to pay for everything even when you don't have a job. but how?
Last night I went out for dinner with some of my best friends and we raised our glasses to staying in college as long as we can, and I laughed because I am, but it also made me sad because the rest of them are leaving in a month. and let's be honest, staying in college as long as you can is no fun if your friends aren't there with you.
Song of the moment: I need you now, Lady Antebellum
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Koulourakias
Easter is coming and that means Lamb, Kouloura (Easter bread) and Koulourakia (Greek Cookies)
Even though today is Palm Sunday and not technically Easter, it is Jordan's birthday so mom is making Lamb for dinner and Koulourakia for desert. This year Greek Easter happens to fall on the same day as Easter for everyone else. Now we don't celebrate Greek Easter as much as I would like, or as much as we did when I was little, but that's because we aren't Orthodox. Mom went to Greek School when she was little and church here and there, but her mother was an Irish Catholic so that was where they went most. Now, we're protestant and our Easter has a different focus than just tradition. But I still love the traditions, the food, fun and family time (especially the food). But thinking about how important these things are to me makes me realize how much more important the real meaning of Easter is. The thing that gets lost in the tradition, and even in the Modern Era in general. The celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Christos Anesti! (Christ is Risen) Alithos Anesti! (He is risen indeed) is the typical Greek Orthodox greeting Easter Sunday, and also the only time you will hear my grandfather say those words. This is hard for me as I love him so much but our views are so different. and so I cling to traditions because I remember a simpler time with him, when I was too young to talk about religion. Not that I would ever reject my faith or that I don't believe and want to share it, but sometimes with the people you love it's so difficult. But I miss him, and I miss my nana. she's gone now, but he's still around, just hours away which makes it hard to stay in touch and hard to talk to about the big things when you don't want to have a fight, so I like to remember when I was young enough to know what I believed in and take joy in Easter for the right reasons without having to deal with grown-up issues of "religion." That's part of why I'm so happy to have all this food today. Jordan and I just got home and it's his birthday so it's just our family celebrating the truth and tradition of this holiday.
Even though today is Palm Sunday and not technically Easter, it is Jordan's birthday so mom is making Lamb for dinner and Koulourakia for desert. This year Greek Easter happens to fall on the same day as Easter for everyone else. Now we don't celebrate Greek Easter as much as I would like, or as much as we did when I was little, but that's because we aren't Orthodox. Mom went to Greek School when she was little and church here and there, but her mother was an Irish Catholic so that was where they went most. Now, we're protestant and our Easter has a different focus than just tradition. But I still love the traditions, the food, fun and family time (especially the food). But thinking about how important these things are to me makes me realize how much more important the real meaning of Easter is. The thing that gets lost in the tradition, and even in the Modern Era in general. The celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Christos Anesti! (Christ is Risen) Alithos Anesti! (He is risen indeed) is the typical Greek Orthodox greeting Easter Sunday, and also the only time you will hear my grandfather say those words. This is hard for me as I love him so much but our views are so different. and so I cling to traditions because I remember a simpler time with him, when I was too young to talk about religion. Not that I would ever reject my faith or that I don't believe and want to share it, but sometimes with the people you love it's so difficult. But I miss him, and I miss my nana. she's gone now, but he's still around, just hours away which makes it hard to stay in touch and hard to talk to about the big things when you don't want to have a fight, so I like to remember when I was young enough to know what I believed in and take joy in Easter for the right reasons without having to deal with grown-up issues of "religion." That's part of why I'm so happy to have all this food today. Jordan and I just got home and it's his birthday so it's just our family celebrating the truth and tradition of this holiday.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
boys. girls. cooties.
When did we decide we wanted to catch cooties instead of run away and vaccinate ourselves from them? I don't know that I ever fully understood any of that. I was the girl next door who played baseball and basketball and tackled the boys in football. I thought cooties were stupid and I didn't understand why my girlfriends got all grossed out when a boy touched them, or why they thought my friendship with Garrett Anderson was so weird. Maybe that's why I never got acclimated to the cootie catching stage.
I think too, that's why I identify with Peter Pan. He doesn't believe in cooties, he just thinks Wendy is wonderful, and wants her to be with him forever and tell him stories and love him...even though he's not capable of ever loving her back. That's where I differ from Peter. I would be great at loving someone back. So I guess there, I'm more like Wendy. I don't want to grow up, but I know I have to, and part of me really wants to be a mother someday. That's about where my similarities with Wendy end. I would much rather be out with Peter fighting pirates and indians than stuck in the kitchen while the boys have all the fun. I don't fit with Peter because I'm not a boy, and I can't stand to be Wendy, the "angel in the home." I don't fit in any mold. People say that's a good thing, they make movies and write books in which the hero is this unique person who never compromises their beliefs and triumphs over all the negative people and events in his life because of that. In real life? Those Unique people are trampled on and pressed to fit in a mold their friends and family understand.
Personally, I love who I am. I love to cook and bake and I like to keep things orderly (most of the time). I love people, and I have a tendency to be very protective over my closest friends and family. I love little kids, and sometimes I'm most blissfully happy when I'm babysitting or playing with my cousins.(Wendy, right?) and I mean, I like boys, I think boys are wonderful, they just don't seem to have a similar opinion of me. I'm still the athlete, I'd rather watch Syracuse Basketball than the Bachelor any night and I tend to hide my true feelings from all but a few very close friends and my family. I love camping, in a tent, with a kayak in the middle of nowhere. I love to have long meaningful conversations with people, and just sit and listen to music and read poetry and drink tea/coffee/good beer with good friends. I love the rain and the way it makes me feel new and the way it inspires me to write.
I don't like the color pink (though I'm told it looks good on me) and I'm told I shouldn't be so opposed to it because that isn't feminine. I've been called a "boy" or "too much like a boy" by my friends and I haven't been on a date, in well...6 years. (and even then, it wasn't a great date) But then I'm not sure I agree with them on what's girly, or even if what's "girly" is the way I should act.
But When I think about myself and how I view myself, I don't understand why boys aren't interested in pursuing me. And I question if I should change and become that pink wearing, nail polished, bachelor watching girl. Why, when my best guy friends have a formal, I'm not invited, but my other girlfriends are. Dad says, "they want to take girls they want to date"...and why isn't that me? and how come, they aren't just taking girls they want to date, but girls they are "just friends" with and not me? Why I've been single all of my "cootie desiring" life. But I don't want to be that pink girl. It's not me, and if there's one thing I hate, it's being fake. But still I find myself asking, Why?
And I think it boils down to this. I think Cooties are stupid. I know, everyone says that, but do they really mean it? The 7 year old girl that giggles when a boy tries to hold her hand and says "ew he's trying to give me cooties" secretly loves the attention. I was never the girl boys wanted to give their cooties to (with the exception of this one kid who proposed to me in kindergarden and 1st grade...then asked for the ring back so he could give it to someone else in fourth grade. and he was pretty gross. I just took the ring cause i thought he would leave me alone...it didn't work)
But basically I never really understood the whole coy thing, I never understood being all giggly and silly because I never was that way. and maybe that makes me less feminine but I don't think so. I look at the Proverbs 31 woman and i hardly see her as the giggly, pink wearing, bachelor watching type. She's strong, loving, knowledgeable, a strong business woman, witty (i like to think) compassionate, a perfect match to her husband. She's the kind of woman who bakes snacks for the superbowl and then sits down to watch the game, actually understanding what's going on.
The problem? Why men don't see me as that woman yet? why I'm "just a friend"? I think they are still in the cootie catching phase, it's more about the thrill of the chase, the "adventure" as my dad puts it. They're not looking for the girl to settle down with yet, they might think they are, some of them might have even been lucky enough to have found her, but the others are running around trying to hold hands and get a giggle out of a girl. I think a third stage comes later, when they stop believing in cooties, when they are happy to just be with that one person, and aren't trying to catch their cooties or vaccinate themselves against them. but for now, they're in the cootie catching stage. They know I'm not the giggly type (I must give out some "you're going to have to try harder than that to flirt with me" ferimone) and they aren't ready to bother. At least that's what I tell myself. I hope I'm right on some level and not doomed to be single because I don't fit the mold.
I could be wrong on this whole cootie thing, but I'm pretty sure my problems with men can be summed up with this lovely example of my childhood. We were at the zoo on a first grade field trip, and I asked Mark Evans if I could talk to him in private. I brought him over to this little waterfall thing, and I told him I liked him and he ran screaming and hid behind his aunt who asked what was the matter. "She likes me" he said with disgust. "So?" said his aunt smiling at me, I bet she thought I was freaking adorable. "So that's gross! She has cooties!!" needless to say I was rather embarassed. 3 years later, when we played his team in soccer, my team hadn't won a single game, (mark and I had been on the same team the years before) and I bet him that we would win. Well, that game I had to play goalie. I hated goalie. I was always afraid of the big ball hitting me in the head, and of being the reason my team lost. I much prefered to play forward or middie and be the one scoring. But anyways, I played goalie. and here comes mark evans with the ball and saved it! my only save ever! (also I never played goalie after that so I never let them in either) and we won the game. Only game we won all season. take that mark evans. ...but that's how i am, i'm the girl who makes bets i'll kick a boys butt, and follows through. I want a man to love me for that. but I havent found one yet that hasn't run screaming.
I think I'm awesome just how I am, (and humble too) but it gets to be exhausting to be last picked everytime when you know you have the skills to be first pick. (i also have this issue when playing frisbee with boys... i tend to blow them away with my talent...i hope a similar situation occurs when I get married ;) ) You wonder what you're doing wrong, if you look weird or if someone told them something about you... I hope that I can find the right man, who recognizes I'm not a boy, and while I'm a good friend, and love people, I can be an even better lover. Who sees my strengths and weaknesses and isn't repulsed by my cooties, and doesn't care that I'm not giggly and pink. Who loves that I will watch sports with him not to humor him, but because we share an interest in them. I just hope. and wait for the cootie stage to end.
Moral of the Story: Cooties are stupid.
I think too, that's why I identify with Peter Pan. He doesn't believe in cooties, he just thinks Wendy is wonderful, and wants her to be with him forever and tell him stories and love him...even though he's not capable of ever loving her back. That's where I differ from Peter. I would be great at loving someone back. So I guess there, I'm more like Wendy. I don't want to grow up, but I know I have to, and part of me really wants to be a mother someday. That's about where my similarities with Wendy end. I would much rather be out with Peter fighting pirates and indians than stuck in the kitchen while the boys have all the fun. I don't fit with Peter because I'm not a boy, and I can't stand to be Wendy, the "angel in the home." I don't fit in any mold. People say that's a good thing, they make movies and write books in which the hero is this unique person who never compromises their beliefs and triumphs over all the negative people and events in his life because of that. In real life? Those Unique people are trampled on and pressed to fit in a mold their friends and family understand.
Personally, I love who I am. I love to cook and bake and I like to keep things orderly (most of the time). I love people, and I have a tendency to be very protective over my closest friends and family. I love little kids, and sometimes I'm most blissfully happy when I'm babysitting or playing with my cousins.(Wendy, right?) and I mean, I like boys, I think boys are wonderful, they just don't seem to have a similar opinion of me. I'm still the athlete, I'd rather watch Syracuse Basketball than the Bachelor any night and I tend to hide my true feelings from all but a few very close friends and my family. I love camping, in a tent, with a kayak in the middle of nowhere. I love to have long meaningful conversations with people, and just sit and listen to music and read poetry and drink tea/coffee/good beer with good friends. I love the rain and the way it makes me feel new and the way it inspires me to write.
I don't like the color pink (though I'm told it looks good on me) and I'm told I shouldn't be so opposed to it because that isn't feminine. I've been called a "boy" or "too much like a boy" by my friends and I haven't been on a date, in well...6 years. (and even then, it wasn't a great date) But then I'm not sure I agree with them on what's girly, or even if what's "girly" is the way I should act.
But When I think about myself and how I view myself, I don't understand why boys aren't interested in pursuing me. And I question if I should change and become that pink wearing, nail polished, bachelor watching girl. Why, when my best guy friends have a formal, I'm not invited, but my other girlfriends are. Dad says, "they want to take girls they want to date"...and why isn't that me? and how come, they aren't just taking girls they want to date, but girls they are "just friends" with and not me? Why I've been single all of my "cootie desiring" life. But I don't want to be that pink girl. It's not me, and if there's one thing I hate, it's being fake. But still I find myself asking, Why?
And I think it boils down to this. I think Cooties are stupid. I know, everyone says that, but do they really mean it? The 7 year old girl that giggles when a boy tries to hold her hand and says "ew he's trying to give me cooties" secretly loves the attention. I was never the girl boys wanted to give their cooties to (with the exception of this one kid who proposed to me in kindergarden and 1st grade...then asked for the ring back so he could give it to someone else in fourth grade. and he was pretty gross. I just took the ring cause i thought he would leave me alone...it didn't work)
But basically I never really understood the whole coy thing, I never understood being all giggly and silly because I never was that way. and maybe that makes me less feminine but I don't think so. I look at the Proverbs 31 woman and i hardly see her as the giggly, pink wearing, bachelor watching type. She's strong, loving, knowledgeable, a strong business woman, witty (i like to think) compassionate, a perfect match to her husband. She's the kind of woman who bakes snacks for the superbowl and then sits down to watch the game, actually understanding what's going on.
The problem? Why men don't see me as that woman yet? why I'm "just a friend"? I think they are still in the cootie catching phase, it's more about the thrill of the chase, the "adventure" as my dad puts it. They're not looking for the girl to settle down with yet, they might think they are, some of them might have even been lucky enough to have found her, but the others are running around trying to hold hands and get a giggle out of a girl. I think a third stage comes later, when they stop believing in cooties, when they are happy to just be with that one person, and aren't trying to catch their cooties or vaccinate themselves against them. but for now, they're in the cootie catching stage. They know I'm not the giggly type (I must give out some "you're going to have to try harder than that to flirt with me" ferimone) and they aren't ready to bother. At least that's what I tell myself. I hope I'm right on some level and not doomed to be single because I don't fit the mold.
I could be wrong on this whole cootie thing, but I'm pretty sure my problems with men can be summed up with this lovely example of my childhood. We were at the zoo on a first grade field trip, and I asked Mark Evans if I could talk to him in private. I brought him over to this little waterfall thing, and I told him I liked him and he ran screaming and hid behind his aunt who asked what was the matter. "She likes me" he said with disgust. "So?" said his aunt smiling at me, I bet she thought I was freaking adorable. "So that's gross! She has cooties!!" needless to say I was rather embarassed. 3 years later, when we played his team in soccer, my team hadn't won a single game, (mark and I had been on the same team the years before) and I bet him that we would win. Well, that game I had to play goalie. I hated goalie. I was always afraid of the big ball hitting me in the head, and of being the reason my team lost. I much prefered to play forward or middie and be the one scoring. But anyways, I played goalie. and here comes mark evans with the ball and saved it! my only save ever! (also I never played goalie after that so I never let them in either) and we won the game. Only game we won all season. take that mark evans. ...but that's how i am, i'm the girl who makes bets i'll kick a boys butt, and follows through. I want a man to love me for that. but I havent found one yet that hasn't run screaming.
I think I'm awesome just how I am, (and humble too) but it gets to be exhausting to be last picked everytime when you know you have the skills to be first pick. (i also have this issue when playing frisbee with boys... i tend to blow them away with my talent...i hope a similar situation occurs when I get married ;) ) You wonder what you're doing wrong, if you look weird or if someone told them something about you... I hope that I can find the right man, who recognizes I'm not a boy, and while I'm a good friend, and love people, I can be an even better lover. Who sees my strengths and weaknesses and isn't repulsed by my cooties, and doesn't care that I'm not giggly and pink. Who loves that I will watch sports with him not to humor him, but because we share an interest in them. I just hope. and wait for the cootie stage to end.
Moral of the Story: Cooties are stupid.
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