Because I am currently much too tired to post anything of significant value or length, I feel time might be best spent if I touch on a few pieces of literature I finished earlier today. The first is a remarkable little book: "The Elements of Style" by William Strunk and E.B. White. I own the newly released illustrated edition, which is crammed with Maira Kalman's elegant and often humorous little paintings. The book is essential for all aspiring writers and is a complete pleasure to read.
The second is a chapter out of Steven Johnson's popular "Ghost Map." The chapter is titled "The Night-Soil Men." It portrays the life of scavengers working in the putrid underbelly of Victorian England. Though an insightful read, the subject matter is not one I would normally choose to spend time with.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Books to read....
My room is an utter mess, littered with books, dvds, and comics that I haven't touched. Yet, whenever I think about this strewn-about treasure box of delights, my body fills with anticipation. So many great writers to experience, so many great artists to savor, and so many great films still left to view. Oh, and though occupying no physical space, my laptop is loaded to the brim with unheard music. Indeed, this unheard music is often sweeter, for my anticipation of delight sometimes fulfills my appetite for pleasure more than the actual experience. Such is what I currently feel about Alice Walker's "We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For," her recent nonfiction collection of speeches and essays dealing with the various activist issues that she has battled for all her life. I bought the book immediately after skimming her piece, "Crimes Against Dog." Wow, I thought, a brilliant piece of writing on Bob Marley. I've never read any serious writing on Marley before--especially not from a person who primarily writes on subjects generally not related to music or musicians--so I might as well purchase it. Now I realize that there is a problem with Ms. Alice Walker. Despite all of her willful and conscious attempt to better the world, she unfortunately smacks slightly of insincerity. She, on her high pedestal, ordains all of us to be better friends, parents, grandparents, lovers, and all around better people. Yet, she can't even manage to heed her own words when it comes to her relationship with her daughter. They seem to hate each other, constantly fighting each other in private and in public (ever since Walker's daughter revealed the truth of their relationship). Why does her own personal life matter? A vast majority of the power in her pieces dissipates the instant we realize that she doesn't heed her own language. We hear your words, Ms. Walker, but we listen to your actions, and right now, your actions betray your beautiful language.
Battlestar Galactica board game...
I've recently realized the amazing fun that good board games can provide. Unlike with video games, almost all board games contain an aspect of social interaction that adds a whole other layer of fun. In other words, playing board games is often more an excuse to hang out with friends than an attempt to truly enjoy the game itself. However, some board games require your focus and seriousness in order to be fun. Thus, the fun with friends is derived specifically from the enjoyment value derived from the game. "Battlestar Galactica" is definitely one of those games.
The concept is simple but fascinating. You and your crew are piloting a ship called the Galactica and attempting to reach a specific destination. Along the way, you are bombarded by a host of different crises, from attacking meteorites to invading enemy fighters. You and the other players must survive the oncoming threats and reach the destination free of any real harm. However, there is an interesting catch: one of your friends is a traitor, except you don't know which one. This concept, as you can imagine, creates for a deliciously addicting game formula. This exact same concept can make for enthralling storytelling also. Imagine a film like "Invasion of the Body Snatchers", or the books of Agatha Christie, and you can understand why they did so well. It is interesting this fascination that we people innately seem to have for the concept of trust and loyalty.
The concept is simple but fascinating. You and your crew are piloting a ship called the Galactica and attempting to reach a specific destination. Along the way, you are bombarded by a host of different crises, from attacking meteorites to invading enemy fighters. You and the other players must survive the oncoming threats and reach the destination free of any real harm. However, there is an interesting catch: one of your friends is a traitor, except you don't know which one. This concept, as you can imagine, creates for a deliciously addicting game formula. This exact same concept can make for enthralling storytelling also. Imagine a film like "Invasion of the Body Snatchers", or the books of Agatha Christie, and you can understand why they did so well. It is interesting this fascination that we people innately seem to have for the concept of trust and loyalty.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
On second thought.. plus more.
The old adage "practice makes perfect" is as true now as it ever was. This means that, starting today, I'm posting in my blog every single night. All of my Writing major friends do so, and though I'm not a Lit major myself, I do take my writing seriously. Also, I don't plan on deleting any of my posts anymore; I might decide to edit a piece if I find it potentially worthy of publication, but no more complete erasure. I plan to live with the writing I produce, whether horrible or brilliant.
That being said, rereading what I wrote yesterday gives me uncomfortable chills. I was obviously slightly annoyed and confused with what occurred during my professor's office hours. I wanted to drop the blame on her, but isn't that always the easiest way? After talking with a few friends about the situation, I realized that it was my mistake, that my question could be interpreted as genuinely insulting. Specifically, my roommate John knocked the most sense into me. To ask a forty year old lady of any future aspirations automatically presumes that she is not already in the position she wants to be. In other words, in that question is hidden the sneakier, shadier question of "You are obviously not a success yet, so when is that going to happen for you?" Obviously, that is a tremendously disrespectful implication to make. Though I never intended this, it shouldn't be surprising in the least from my perspective for Halle to interpret my question in the way she did. I'm sure it threw her off, rightfully causing her to assume a defensive stance, which then caught me off guard and caused more of a mess. I only wish I didn't ask what I did because I feel a slight fissure in our once fruitful relationship. Oh well. All I can do is learn from this catastrophe and not make the same mistake next time.
CAB is a cool club with fun and interesting people. Earlier today, I joined them on one of their once-every-other-week events. This particular time we journeyed to the old Bailey house in the Old Town area of San Diego. Like always, I had great fun interacting with all the people that went. However, I have to say that the event itself was slightly disconcerting because: first of all, I'm not a believer in the supernatural and thus would find a haunted house rather silly, but; secondly, and more importantly, the tour guides (I didn't know it was going to be a tour) seemed to realize they were lying, making up ghost stories, and embraced the lies fully. Doesn't this situation seem slightly shady to anyone? The organization is non-profit so I know they need to draw a crowd to keep going, but seriously, at one point, I actually overheard coworkers gossiping with each other on how simple it was to trick everyone. One coworker said something along the lines of, "Yeah, they asked a lot of questions, so I needed to make some stuff up on the spot." A couple members had taken the tour before and even noticed continuity errors in the storytelling! Apparently, there is just no shame at all. The organization running the tour has settled into jadedness regarding their own immorality!
Oh well. That being said, I didn't really mention my thoughts much, merely asking other members in the group if they believed in ghosts. One girl, Melody, seemed to hint some annoyance at my constant pestering, so I stopped. I got the point: everyone wants to have fun and don't need any negativity getting in the way of that. Fair enough. I also wanted to have fun, and thankfully, did.
That being said, rereading what I wrote yesterday gives me uncomfortable chills. I was obviously slightly annoyed and confused with what occurred during my professor's office hours. I wanted to drop the blame on her, but isn't that always the easiest way? After talking with a few friends about the situation, I realized that it was my mistake, that my question could be interpreted as genuinely insulting. Specifically, my roommate John knocked the most sense into me. To ask a forty year old lady of any future aspirations automatically presumes that she is not already in the position she wants to be. In other words, in that question is hidden the sneakier, shadier question of "You are obviously not a success yet, so when is that going to happen for you?" Obviously, that is a tremendously disrespectful implication to make. Though I never intended this, it shouldn't be surprising in the least from my perspective for Halle to interpret my question in the way she did. I'm sure it threw her off, rightfully causing her to assume a defensive stance, which then caught me off guard and caused more of a mess. I only wish I didn't ask what I did because I feel a slight fissure in our once fruitful relationship. Oh well. All I can do is learn from this catastrophe and not make the same mistake next time.
CAB is a cool club with fun and interesting people. Earlier today, I joined them on one of their once-every-other-week events. This particular time we journeyed to the old Bailey house in the Old Town area of San Diego. Like always, I had great fun interacting with all the people that went. However, I have to say that the event itself was slightly disconcerting because: first of all, I'm not a believer in the supernatural and thus would find a haunted house rather silly, but; secondly, and more importantly, the tour guides (I didn't know it was going to be a tour) seemed to realize they were lying, making up ghost stories, and embraced the lies fully. Doesn't this situation seem slightly shady to anyone? The organization is non-profit so I know they need to draw a crowd to keep going, but seriously, at one point, I actually overheard coworkers gossiping with each other on how simple it was to trick everyone. One coworker said something along the lines of, "Yeah, they asked a lot of questions, so I needed to make some stuff up on the spot." A couple members had taken the tour before and even noticed continuity errors in the storytelling! Apparently, there is just no shame at all. The organization running the tour has settled into jadedness regarding their own immorality!
Oh well. That being said, I didn't really mention my thoughts much, merely asking other members in the group if they believed in ghosts. One girl, Melody, seemed to hint some annoyance at my constant pestering, so I stopped. I got the point: everyone wants to have fun and don't need any negativity getting in the way of that. Fair enough. I also wanted to have fun, and thankfully, did.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Slightly surprised...
I'm not quite sure what to say, but I had quite the surprise today when I went to office hours. Professor Halle Shilling, without a doubt one of the best professors I've had, displayed tremendous anger towards me. For the last few weeks, I have been greatly enjoying myself in my Non-Fiction class. A great reason for this enjoyment had to do with my professor.
Halle Shilling had been teaching non-ficton to students for a good many years now. However, she does not seem to like to talk about her personal life.
When I went to her office hours earlier today, she seemed slightly reluctant to talk to me. To be honest, she always seems to be a little busy. When I went to her office hours in the past, I still got a cold sensation from her. Regardless of my impression at the time, I wanted to have a good conversation.
Being the curious individual that I am, I often like to ask personal questions. I asked my professor about her future aspirations. Rather than answer the question like any normal inidividual, she gave me the cold shoulder. She seemed rather hesitant to talk to me, meanwhile actually creating quite the awkward situation. I felt uncomfortable with her, and I'm sure she felt the same with me.
Which leads me to the point that, as a professor, you should expect students to ask you relatively personal questions. First of all, my question wasn't so personal (what's the big deal when I'm curious to see what my professor has written and plans to write). Secondly, it is relatively rude to treat a student in such a way. I was given the impression that I had invaded some unsanctioned personal space when all I had asked was a relatively innocent question. Obviously, this pissed me off slightly. Hopefully, Ms. Shilling will develop a better idea of the way students often tend to interact with professors, and that it is okay to ask personal questions. Office hours don't absolutely have to deal with the class. But. then again, Ms. Shilling only teaches one class per quarter; if she had taught more, she might understand more clearly the relationships that many students develop with their professors.
Halle Shilling had been teaching non-ficton to students for a good many years now. However, she does not seem to like to talk about her personal life.
When I went to her office hours earlier today, she seemed slightly reluctant to talk to me. To be honest, she always seems to be a little busy. When I went to her office hours in the past, I still got a cold sensation from her. Regardless of my impression at the time, I wanted to have a good conversation.
Being the curious individual that I am, I often like to ask personal questions. I asked my professor about her future aspirations. Rather than answer the question like any normal inidividual, she gave me the cold shoulder. She seemed rather hesitant to talk to me, meanwhile actually creating quite the awkward situation. I felt uncomfortable with her, and I'm sure she felt the same with me.
Which leads me to the point that, as a professor, you should expect students to ask you relatively personal questions. First of all, my question wasn't so personal (what's the big deal when I'm curious to see what my professor has written and plans to write). Secondly, it is relatively rude to treat a student in such a way. I was given the impression that I had invaded some unsanctioned personal space when all I had asked was a relatively innocent question. Obviously, this pissed me off slightly. Hopefully, Ms. Shilling will develop a better idea of the way students often tend to interact with professors, and that it is okay to ask personal questions. Office hours don't absolutely have to deal with the class. But. then again, Ms. Shilling only teaches one class per quarter; if she had taught more, she might understand more clearly the relationships that many students develop with their professors.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Finished my paper...
Well, I have finally completed my application form for The Guardian. I finished the last section earlier today, and to be honest, I am quite relieved. I had to type an example review on some piece of entertainment, the kind of review that I would be writing on a more frequent basis if I was to get hired. I'm relieved solely because I finished the piece, not because I'm satisfied with it. Although my writing has improved dramatically in the past year, it has merely improved on a superficial level. Sure, my vocabulary has grown, my grammar improved, and my overall control of tone more noticeable, but these are all relatively minor and insignificant compared with the other major aspects of writing that I still need to work on. For one, I still write in a voice that I wish to be heard in. I still want to try and sound like Anthony Lane, or Michael Dirda, or Joan Didion, and I don't believe this sort of strategy ever really works. In other words, I still need to find my own voice. But finding this "own voice" of yours is much more difficult than I thought. When I speak, the voice comes naturally, and the personality, too. But, when I try to transfer that personality onto the page, it becomes much more difficult. Why is that? I'm not sure. I wonder why I can't communicate in the written word with the grace that I display when speaking. It's a tricky issue, but I'm sure it's an issue that many writers face. Perhaps I should read more memoirs by different writers. I mean, the only book I do not own of Dirda's is his memoir. Why is that? I guess I just find reviews more interesting to read than memoirs. But, memoirs are the genre that, by nature, allow the most room for empathy. I would hope that the writer is intentionally writing with the hope that someone could relate with them. You don't think like that when writing critcism. It's a completely different animal.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Revisiting a neglected friend...
It has been many a sunrise since I last typed in this little ol' blog of mine, but that all-important need to express myself in the written word never truly came up in these past few months. And isn't that why most people write in the first place? There's usually a need, festering inside one's bodily cage of epidermis and striations, striving for some opening to escape (Isn't that how most good art gets made?). However, for me, that need was just not there... until today.
For the last... few months, really... I have been devoting a larger percentage of my time to the reading of non-fiction, criticism specifically. All of this reading has made me realize more and more that the writing of criticism is what I truly want to do, perhaps even what I was born to do. I do not mean to imply that I am good at writing criticism, or even good at criticism itself. However, by trying to live the life that I was blessed with as actively and openly as possible, I basically realized that what I truly am, that the best way to describe and most accurately characterize my infinitely variable person would be that of "a fan of life". Cliched, yes, but so what? I have realized that it is true, and I currently find that more important.
However, I will make it known that my love is not an unprejudiced love, for some things in life requires the responsible individual to make judgment upon. Indeed, I would say that some aspects of life are not worth loving at all. Bad art, for one, is quite annoying. Heartless individuals are also another aspect of life that most people have to deal with, but could most definitely do with less of. And what is the critic's job? Specifically that. To pass judgment. Although, let's be clear, it is not judgment of the kind that is meted and doled out arbitrarily; on the other hand, it should be the complete opposite: the opinions and thoughts of a critical, well-meaning mind.
So yes, I realized at some random point (possibly when I began to realize the public power of the critic through the reading and watching of Christopher Hitchens) that I needed to be, and establish, myself as an important public intellectual. However, that is not why I am writing in my blog again. Rather, this quarter (alas, my final one) at UCSD, I am taking a non-fiction writing course with one relatively amazing professor, a lady by the name of Halle Shilling who possesses that rare but infinitely important quality as a teacher: she seems to genuinely care for the well-being of her students (or at least their writing). Honestly inspired by her and the work she has had us read so far (mind you, it has only been two lectures), I've decided that I need to improve the quality of my writing. And what better way to improve than by reading more and writing more? Thus, I have decided to, in a sense, revive my blog from the graveyard of used up, burnt out blogs, and give it some more active attention and loving from now on. Let's see how I do....
For the last... few months, really... I have been devoting a larger percentage of my time to the reading of non-fiction, criticism specifically. All of this reading has made me realize more and more that the writing of criticism is what I truly want to do, perhaps even what I was born to do. I do not mean to imply that I am good at writing criticism, or even good at criticism itself. However, by trying to live the life that I was blessed with as actively and openly as possible, I basically realized that what I truly am, that the best way to describe and most accurately characterize my infinitely variable person would be that of "a fan of life". Cliched, yes, but so what? I have realized that it is true, and I currently find that more important.
However, I will make it known that my love is not an unprejudiced love, for some things in life requires the responsible individual to make judgment upon. Indeed, I would say that some aspects of life are not worth loving at all. Bad art, for one, is quite annoying. Heartless individuals are also another aspect of life that most people have to deal with, but could most definitely do with less of. And what is the critic's job? Specifically that. To pass judgment. Although, let's be clear, it is not judgment of the kind that is meted and doled out arbitrarily; on the other hand, it should be the complete opposite: the opinions and thoughts of a critical, well-meaning mind.
So yes, I realized at some random point (possibly when I began to realize the public power of the critic through the reading and watching of Christopher Hitchens) that I needed to be, and establish, myself as an important public intellectual. However, that is not why I am writing in my blog again. Rather, this quarter (alas, my final one) at UCSD, I am taking a non-fiction writing course with one relatively amazing professor, a lady by the name of Halle Shilling who possesses that rare but infinitely important quality as a teacher: she seems to genuinely care for the well-being of her students (or at least their writing). Honestly inspired by her and the work she has had us read so far (mind you, it has only been two lectures), I've decided that I need to improve the quality of my writing. And what better way to improve than by reading more and writing more? Thus, I have decided to, in a sense, revive my blog from the graveyard of used up, burnt out blogs, and give it some more active attention and loving from now on. Let's see how I do....
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