If it's important...

Life is short. Forgive people. Never expressing what should have been said, or done, until it's too late. This is the struggle we face as humans capable of deep thought and with such emotion. We are all scared of something, or of people. We hardly recognize that we are all the same, and have the same needs. Desires differ from person to person, based on a number of factors which determine those desires. But needs, to be sustained by food and water, shelter, and human contact. We are so quick to separate, to distinguish ourselves from another, but that only does more harm. What is a life if it is only focused on being better than everyone else? What relationship is successful when it is based solely on competition? Love, understanding, and forgiveness are arguably more useful habits to practice in life.

Nothing Like You

The one percent. The cream of the crop. The elite. I wish to be nothing like you. It must be very difficult, being so upset at everyone around you all the time. You must be severely frustrated to never feel satisfied - no matter how much money you have or how many things you buy. I can't believe you aren't tired, with your mouth running all day like that. What a shame and a waste of human beings.

I long to be like the truck driver, who busts his ass working the graveyard shift, and whose daughter thinks he is so cool that she wants to go to work with him any chance she gets.

I hope to be like the working mother, who doesn't take guff from anyone and who protects her family from evil while also teaching them to look for the good in everyone.

How I wish to grow into the grandmother, whose kindness and compassion radiates so strong that no amount of malice or rottenness can pierce its shield.

I am thankful to the Santa Barbara service industry, for teaching me a fine lesson in how NOT to act if I ever have any money. Working for them will ensure this never happens, so I think I'm safe...for now.

Final project proposal

Having so much experience with journaling these past few months has helped me realize just how important personal journals are as writing artifacts. I definitely plan to continue practicing journaling, but sometimes I find the hardest part is just sitting down to write in the first place. I believe I’ve come up with a fun and different way to get my creative juices flowing - by creating a “journal jar” filled with random thoughts and ideas to start as a jumping off point for future journals. 

I suppose it would be correct to say I'm trying to recycle my journals. There have to be thoughts in there that I can dig a little deeper into.I plan to analyze my past journal entries and utilize ideas that I could expand upon more in future journals. I also have a ton of questions that I’ve asked throughout my past journal entries, questions which I’ve never found answers to, which could also be used as ideas for future journals. Silly random thoughts and words will also be collected in the jar - maybe the rest of the class would like to contribute as well! That would be pretty cool.

I also want to incorporate my past journal entries into the design of my jar. Hopefully I can use a sharpie or something to write the first and last lines of each journal entry to make one long poem that I can write around the outside of the jar. Plus the additions of other little crafty things to make it more personal.

Maybe you guys can help me out!

I would love to have some of your ideas to use for future journal entries!

Goldberg

SO happy to have been introduced to this book. Ms. Goldberg has some really great insights on how to get over your insecurities and apprehensions about writing. I feel, personally, as a writer I find myself being too concerned about what other people think. Will anybody else agree with me? Do I sound intelligent collected? Is my idea/story important? When we were studying last week about ethnography, I couldn’t help but wonder if people were truly able to be themselves when they knew someone else was observing them. I think this paradigm can carry over to the writing world as well - when writers are writing for an audience, sometimes they can’t always be themselves and say what they want or need to say. 

What I like about Goldberg is her attitude about truth in writing. I really enjoyed her chapter on The Power of Detail when she notes, “Our details are important. Otherwise, if they are not, we can drop a bomb and it doesn’t matter…We have lived; our moments are important. This is what it is to be a writer: to be the to be the carrier of details that make up history” (Pp. 47-48). I can’t even count how many times I’ve started writing something and quit because I didn’t think my story was worth the time. But it is worth it. Writing down my history, my thoughts, my feelings is vital because it’s been my life. No matter how silly, strange, awful, or sad the information, it’s all been part of what made me. Years down the road, maybe I will have forgotten who I used to be, and how I used to think and live. These pieces of writing will be what I have to remember myself, and to keep in touch with my young spirit. Even if no one else ever reads my work, or thinks it’s interesting or important, it will be a great privilege for me to look back on. 

Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth made me laugh a little. I was just picturing myself in overalls with curlers in my hair, walking across the street to French Press. I sort of understand where Goldberg is coming from - trying to force yourself to write from different perspectives. But I think some of these shenanigans are a tad extreme and would make me feel more self-conscious than open-minded. What I can agree with though is when she writes “Sometimes there is just no way around it - we are boring and we are sick of ourselves, our voice, and the usual material we write about” (p. 151). I can totally dig the idea of playing dress-up though, as I enjoy (on occasion) wearing big hats and dresses that look like they’ve been jacked from June Cleaver’s closet. Doing dumb things like that can really put you in a different frame of mind sometimes, just like being in different places. I like writing when I venture off to new places alone. On my way driving home to The Bay or visiting friends in LA I often stop and sit somewhere quiet to think, sometimes write, and mostly be peaceful. 

Loneliness is for sure a huge part of writing. Goldberg tells us “Art is communication. Taste the bitterness of isolation, and from that place feel a kinship and compassion for all people who have been alone” (p. 150). Being isolated and having time to reflect on your life alone is always beneficial to writing. In life we constantly have to be surrounded by others, get things approved, follow directions, and listen to what other people say. Being alone can give you the chance to say f*uck those people and their opinions and policies. Writing about your feelings can make them more concrete, and ultimately make you more steadfast in those feelings. We all have something important to say through our writing, and we are all alone in it together.

THE LAST HAPPINESS (hopefully...)

As children in American society, we often heard “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all”. I’ve never been a huge fan of this practice, because sometimes people need to hear what you have to say - even truthful comments that might sting a little. I like to call it constructive criticism, and I have some things to say to this Gretchen woman. If I could talk to her in person, I would tell her to actually do something nice for someone else. It seems like all these random things she’s doing in her quest for “happiness” involves some superficial exercise that will only benefit her immediate self. Furthermore, I think it’s just a little sick that, of all things, she decides to read up on other people’s sad and twisted misfortunes in order to make her feel more grateful for her privileged life. I want to ask her if she has truly ever experienced anything tragic or life changing, but judging by her constant bitching about how shallow her life has been so far, I’m guessing not. If the worst thing that has happened to her is that her sister got diabetes, I think she’s had it pretty easy. She should be more concerned about protecting her sister’s privacy than glorifying her sickness in order to sell books. I think, in lieu of paying for expensive yoga lessons, painting classes, and vacations, maybe she should donate some of her time to someone in need. Spend some time being a companion for a lonely elderly person, or teach underprivileged children how to paint or write poetry. It’s so simple, and yet she continues to complain about her pathetic life. I hope dearly this is the last chapter we have to read of this nonsensical, putrid book.
As for dear Mr. Paulson and The Last Lecture, I feel much more inspired and satisfied after reading this again. I remember my mom giving me this book when I was just a kid, I think sometime back in high school. I was so fond of this book, not only because it was an easy and fast read, but because I could relate so much to it. Reading his chapter on writing thank-you notes hit home, especially after the exercise we did today in class. My gramma and mom have always expressed to me how important it is to write to people - real, uneven, messy, handwritten letters. We get so used to seeing things in documents and online - perfect lines, even columns, etc. There’s just something so much more authentic about getting/giving handwritten cards. Especially when you know someone went out of their way to buy cards and stamps - it usually means a lot more than a text message.
I also just want to say this is my favorite class this semester - I love having class with all of you cool peeps and I always have fun in our sessions. Thanks for making me smile :)
Cheers,
Marissa K.

Enjoy this picture of my dog, Lila.

Ethnography and things...

What an intriguing concept - the act of studying people. Only speaking from personal experience, people act differently than they normally would when they know someone is watching. We are so comfortable in our own world - until we know someone is keeping tabs on us, then out comes the "preferable behavior" clown. I only use the term clown to signify how silly it is to feel we must adapt our true selves to "fit" better in certain arenas of life. This is why I think ethnography is just the tiniest bit of bullsh*t.
Although it's a grand idea, and I admit I fully agree with Kahn when he notes "People learn more from direct experience than from second-hand experience," I have a hard time imagining people truly acting like themselves when they know another person is observing them. Kawulich touches on this topic briefly in her LONG article, when she discusses different stances an observer can take in such cases. In my opinion, being a complete participant in observational research seems like the only sure-fire way to obtain honest results. The only problem with this method is, the observer has to be somewhat of a sneaky liar (on top of needing decent acting skills).
Both articles did touch on reciprocity as an important factor in ethnographic studies. In order to engage with most people (especially with those from different cultures than your own), usually some sort of cooperation is necessary. If I walked up to a person on the street, smiled, and extended my hand, I would expect that action to be reciprocated. If they just gave me a strange look, or walked away, I wouldn't feel comfortable trying this a second time. This applies on a larger scale as well. If a neighbor invited you to a dinner party, and you show up with a nice bottle of wine and a dessert, you might expect that person to do the same when invited to your home for dinner. If they didn't make this gesture, you might not invite them back again for dinner. Out of all the jargon and mumbo-jumbo I think the idea of reciprocity is what I mostly took away from the readings.

Until Wednesday fellow classmates...

Week four...

I've been thoroughly enjoying reading Writing Down the Bones - not only for the great advice on writing, but because it truly reflects what we're learning in class. What resonated with me was the section on writing seen as a McD's hamburger - or, rather, what writing shouldn't be. This is something I've struggled with as a writer-in-training. Almost every time I sit down to write anything, it has to have a purpose, a goal, an ending in sight. This makes my writing less meaningful because it's strategic from the jump. I like how Goldberg refers to writing how it should be - "Let go of everything when you write, and try at a simple beginning with simple words to express what you have inside. It won't begin smoothly. Allow yourself to be awkward. You are stripping yourself. You are exposing your life, not how your ego would like to see you represented, but how you are as a human being. And it is because of this that I think writing is religious." (pp. 39-40)
What's upsetting about learning this so late in my life is - how much better could I have been if I were taught to write like this at a young age? So many people see writing as a chore instead of as a means to release. I don't know how many times people have paid me to write papers for them, because the task is so daunting they would literally rather break the bank in order to keep from having to write a paper. I can't help but wonder - if we were taught to look at writing as something that helps us better understand ourselves and our ways of thinking, could we enjoy it more and, ultimately, be better writers? This also ties in with the section about writers living twice. We learn to appreciate small things more than the average bear because we look at the world through a writer's eyes. Just like painters view the world as artists. We all have our human-monkey brain, which helps us think quickly, solve problems, and deal with sensory overloads. Having said that, I think writers have access to a more critical brain which helps us appreciate the power of questioning, wondering, theorizing. This is what I adore about truly great writers - their ability to take something insignificant and turn it into a story, into something worthwhile. Inanimate objects are a lot more interesting when someone attaches meaning to it through writing.

The other assigned readings for this week were so dense, I couldn't concentrate long enough to have anything meaningful to say about them. I do look forward to reading all of your responses. Have a good night everyone :)