Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
The Year of Being Brave
When I was in second grade, in an effort to bridge different schools within the same district, my classmates and I were assigned penpals from neighboring elementary schools. The letters were written in careful, round writing. I assumed my penpals copied their letters from the teacher's chalkboard, since they all followed the same topic, sentence structure, and phrases. My penpal asked me if I had any New Year's resolutions.
I didn't know what a New Year's resolution was and what it entailed. I remember thinking that it sounded really official and that I should find one, quick, because maybe we were all supposed to have one. Essentially, I didn't understand the point of having one. Even as a seven year old, I sensed that resolutions were like hot air balloons, pumped full of false hope and good intentions. It didn't seem substantial.
We ended up writing a response that was more or less copied from the chalkboard. I think I told my penpal that I wanted to be a better student/speller/whatever was written on the board, same as the other 30 students in my class.
Fast forward. Last year was the first year that I sat down and wrote a resolution. I was frustrated and stupidly optimistic and tired of trying. I was working in a nursing home and studying for the bar again and living in limbo. I resolved, somewhat naively, to Be Brave.
So I was brave. I was brave and bold and sometimes stupid and kinda reckless and mostly smart. Now December is on its way out and the world has dipped back into view. I'm amazed by my good friends, by the people I've met, by everything out there.
I didn't know what a New Year's resolution was and what it entailed. I remember thinking that it sounded really official and that I should find one, quick, because maybe we were all supposed to have one. Essentially, I didn't understand the point of having one. Even as a seven year old, I sensed that resolutions were like hot air balloons, pumped full of false hope and good intentions. It didn't seem substantial.
We ended up writing a response that was more or less copied from the chalkboard. I think I told my penpal that I wanted to be a better student/speller/whatever was written on the board, same as the other 30 students in my class.
Fast forward. Last year was the first year that I sat down and wrote a resolution. I was frustrated and stupidly optimistic and tired of trying. I was working in a nursing home and studying for the bar again and living in limbo. I resolved, somewhat naively, to Be Brave.
So I was brave. I was brave and bold and sometimes stupid and kinda reckless and mostly smart. Now December is on its way out and the world has dipped back into view. I'm amazed by my good friends, by the people I've met, by everything out there.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
three among many
1) I hate to complain about this type of situation, but I strongly dislike sleeping on wooden planks. And I'm not going to take this lying down!
2) I would like to wrap myself in a cocoon of roast duck skin and eat my way out.
3) I forgot how drop dead beautiful it is up here.
2) I would like to wrap myself in a cocoon of roast duck skin and eat my way out.
3) I forgot how drop dead beautiful it is up here.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
how apropos
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/12/fashion/12Modern.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&ref=modernlove&adxnnlx=1292457088-iUJ5vENMMVKwGYPFWmPWgg
Monday, December 13, 2010
From Russia with Love
Caroline: .....
i'd have to think about it
you should post on facebook
oh the magic of the internet
"seeking Russian
sponsor"
Sent at 5:19 PM on Monday
me: HAHAHAHA
I could elicit all sorts of inappropriate responses that way!
Caroline: yes!
do it!
it will be hilarious
my friend might know someone
he did peace corps in Kahzikstan
and might have some Russian connections
i wonder if the govermnet is monitoring this conversation
because I said Russian and connection
Sent at 5:22 PM on Monday
me: Russian connection! Russian connection!
run for the hills!
Caroline: there's a satellite pointing at you right now!!!!!
i'd have to think about it
you should post on facebook
oh the magic of the internet
"seeking Russian
sponsor"
Sent at 5:19 PM on Monday
me: HAHAHAHA
I could elicit all sorts of inappropriate responses that way!
Caroline: yes!
do it!
it will be hilarious
my friend might know someone
he did peace corps in Kahzikstan
and might have some Russian connections
i wonder if the govermnet is monitoring this conversation
because I said Russian and connection
Sent at 5:22 PM on Monday
me: Russian connection! Russian connection!
run for the hills!
Caroline: there's a satellite pointing at you right now!!!!!
Friday, November 26, 2010
in-class assignments: exam anxiety and Amanda's legs
We used Jamie Cat Callan's Writer's Toolbox (http://www.amazon.com/Writers-Toolbox-Creative-Exercises-Inspiring/dp/0811854299) for a few in-class exercises.
Exercise 1:
We were presented with various popsicle sticks, each with a different type of writing prompt. Choose a "first sentence" prompt at random. Based on the sentence prompt, begin writing a story for two minutes. After the minutes are up, choose a "non sequitur" prompt at random (definition: a sentence that lacks meaning relative to what it follows; can denote an abrupt, illogical, unexpected or absurd turn of plot or dialogue not normally associated with or appropriate to that preceding it). Based on the prompt, continue writing your story for two minutes. Repeat with another "non sequitur" and "last straw" prompt.
Prompts are denoted in bold.
The only way John could pass the exam was by cheating. I didn’t know how to help him. We constructed elaborate, paper-thin schemes. We installed small, hidden cameras all over the center. We bought small mirrors and pasted them on the toes of our sneakers. We copied intricate formulas and rolled them up and forced them into the transparent bodies of ballpoint pens.
The plane was two hours late. Subsequently, the exams were delivered to the center two hours late and everything was postponed. It was two more hours wasted. We fumbled and waited and copied more formulas into the crooks of our arms. We prayed that the sweat would not wipe away our inky attempts at passing.
It wasn’t so much that I had been blind to the truth. It was just that I had seen the truth differently. When I was younger, I thought that hard work equated success. Now that we were older and wiser and lazier, we could see that no amount of studying would have allowed us to jump over that invisible threshold. We were doomed.
The lemon sherbert that melted all over the counter sent my mind into a sugar-induced haze. We sat in the ice cream shop, counting down the last two hours and numbing our nerves with cold sweets. One last hurrah, one last enjoyable sherbert before it was showtime. Maybe I was in denial, maybe I was protecting myself from failure, but John and I never noticed that the clock in the ice cream shop was broken. We waited and waited too long, like a pair of frozen, sitting ducks. So we ended up missing the exam, after all.
---
Exercise 2:
You will be given four prompts: a protagonist, a goal, an obstacle, and an action. Spend a few minutes writing a story that incorporates these four prompts.
Protagonist: Amanda with amazing legs
Goal: king of the heap
Obstacle: fear of heights
Action: research at library
Our small town lived in a small valley and cowered under the shadow of a mountain. We called the mountain "The Heap" because it looked like a gigantic heap of pancakes, stacked up to the heavens. No one had ever climbed to the top and returned to tell the tale, except Amanda with the amazing legs.
Amanda was before our time. My uncle's best friend's little sister had been in the same class with her. Amanda had legendary stems. They glistened, year-round, unrestricted by pants. Those legs sashayed around the local park, the musty old library, the main boulevard. Male and female eyes moved with those legs.
Amanda was determined to conquer The Heap, but she was crippled by a devastating fear of heights.
Exercise 1:
We were presented with various popsicle sticks, each with a different type of writing prompt. Choose a "first sentence" prompt at random. Based on the sentence prompt, begin writing a story for two minutes. After the minutes are up, choose a "non sequitur" prompt at random (definition: a sentence that lacks meaning relative to what it follows; can denote an abrupt, illogical, unexpected or absurd turn of plot or dialogue not normally associated with or appropriate to that preceding it). Based on the prompt, continue writing your story for two minutes. Repeat with another "non sequitur" and "last straw" prompt.
Prompts are denoted in bold.
The only way John could pass the exam was by cheating. I didn’t know how to help him. We constructed elaborate, paper-thin schemes. We installed small, hidden cameras all over the center. We bought small mirrors and pasted them on the toes of our sneakers. We copied intricate formulas and rolled them up and forced them into the transparent bodies of ballpoint pens.
The plane was two hours late. Subsequently, the exams were delivered to the center two hours late and everything was postponed. It was two more hours wasted. We fumbled and waited and copied more formulas into the crooks of our arms. We prayed that the sweat would not wipe away our inky attempts at passing.
It wasn’t so much that I had been blind to the truth. It was just that I had seen the truth differently. When I was younger, I thought that hard work equated success. Now that we were older and wiser and lazier, we could see that no amount of studying would have allowed us to jump over that invisible threshold. We were doomed.
The lemon sherbert that melted all over the counter sent my mind into a sugar-induced haze. We sat in the ice cream shop, counting down the last two hours and numbing our nerves with cold sweets. One last hurrah, one last enjoyable sherbert before it was showtime. Maybe I was in denial, maybe I was protecting myself from failure, but John and I never noticed that the clock in the ice cream shop was broken. We waited and waited too long, like a pair of frozen, sitting ducks. So we ended up missing the exam, after all.
---
Exercise 2:
You will be given four prompts: a protagonist, a goal, an obstacle, and an action. Spend a few minutes writing a story that incorporates these four prompts.
Protagonist: Amanda with amazing legs
Goal: king of the heap
Obstacle: fear of heights
Action: research at library
Our small town lived in a small valley and cowered under the shadow of a mountain. We called the mountain "The Heap" because it looked like a gigantic heap of pancakes, stacked up to the heavens. No one had ever climbed to the top and returned to tell the tale, except Amanda with the amazing legs.
Amanda was before our time. My uncle's best friend's little sister had been in the same class with her. Amanda had legendary stems. They glistened, year-round, unrestricted by pants. Those legs sashayed around the local park, the musty old library, the main boulevard. Male and female eyes moved with those legs.
Amanda was determined to conquer The Heap, but she was crippled by a devastating fear of heights.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
I kid, I kid
If the criminal defense lawyer in my writing class reminds us one more time that he is a criminal defense lawyer, I think I am going to strangle him with my bare hands! Just kidding.