I couldn't resist hitching a ride up to campus today to enjoy the first day of school: the grumbling commuters upset about the four missing parking spaces in A lot, the "freshman fear" and the oh-so-fun game of freshman spotting, and the low-on-toner printers in the computer lab. Oh, yeah, and those delish baked caramel apples in the cafeteria.
It's weird, this not having classes in August thing. I mean, before you think I'm a total slacker*, I am a Graduate Student now. This means I write, occasionally, every once in a while, whenever I have to. I just don't have classes like ye mere undergraduates. Instead, I have deadline panics (along with "why the heck am i trying to be a writer?" freak outs) and Tuesday night chats which I can attend, if I so desire, wearing nothing but a hot pink tutu and a Billy Idol tube top. Rock on. This is why I stuck it out that decade it took me to get a Bachelor's.
Yes, you read that right. A decade. Well, almost. Nine years to be precise. Most people complete their degrees in anywhere from three to five years, but I took nine. Nine! Crazy. So, what did I do in the meantime? Well, you'll have to read my as-yet-unwritten autobiography for that one. *wink* I tell you this not to brag about my journey, but to encourage you to enjoy yours.
Enjoy the months of absorbing knowledge. Open your mind and let it flow in. And don't freak out about always having to get A's or never getting A's: In the long run, the grades don't matter.
"Sure grades matter!" You might be thinking. "I'll never get into grad school without a 4.0."
Maybe that's true, and maybe it's not, but one way or the other, I believe you'll end up exactly where you are supposed to be, if you follow your heart more often than not and if you live, as much as you can, an authentic and genuine life. That's a lesson it took me a long time to learn, and no amount of cramming can ever teach it. In fact, shouldn't you be doing homework or something?
Don't be jealous, but here's how I spent my non-academic evening:
Go crafts. Happy school year!
* Oh I am! I am! Yay!
Here's a cool site I found while I was surfing the web while trying to figure out what to do with this stash of vintage alarm clocks that I have:
"MAKE: Technology on Your Time, published by O'Reilly Media. MAKE is a quarterly publication from O'Reilly for those who just can't stop tinkering, disassembling, re-creating, and inventing cool new uses for the technology in our lives. It's the first do-it-yourself magazine dedicated to the incorrigible and chronically incurable technology enthusiast in all of us. MAKE celebrates your right to tweak, hack, and bend technology any way you want."
This site rocks! Some of the projects include transforming a can of Play-doh into a radio, making an amp out of an empty tin of Altoids, and a DIY skating robot. Man... now technology is even better! There are a ton of cool projects happening at the Makezine Blog. (These peeps also do Craftzine, which is also cool and not so tech-y.)
I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the alarm clocks, but now I have a use for all those empty Altoids cans. Hmm...
This link was posted on the Writing Popular Fiction site recently:
It's fun!
Hmm. Here's what I got:
The title The Calliope Circus Restaurant has a 63.7% chance of being a bestselling title!
^ This is the title of the novel I'm working on
The title Stupid Henry has a 63.7% chance of being a bestselling title!
^ I have no idea why I thought of this one - but hey! It's already a winner...
The title Fuck Ewe has a 44.2% chance of being a bestselling title!
^ Changing the spelling from Y-O-U to E-W-E significantly increases the score... hmmm...
Here's another FREE book, if anyone wants it:
Supplementary Materials (5th ed.) to accompany Puntos De Partida: An Invitation to Spanish (6th ed.) by Sharon Foerster and Jean Miller ISBN: 0-07-250084-0
Just let me know and it's yours!
So, I'm going through the myriad stacks of paper in my apartment, and I found my copy of SHU's Portfolio Handbook. Any seniors out in the blogosphere want it? You can save yourself the $3 the bookstore charges for a bound copy and get a head start on the panic attack that which is the senior portfolio. Do you want it?
Also, I have my cap and gown - these cost me $50, but I'll sell 'em to you, only slightly used ;c), for $30! You can't beat it!
Leave me a comment if you are interested in either. I'll deliver to SHU anytime.
My primary mode of transportation for the past year and three months has been a combination of foot and pedal power. Although I'm not yet able to ride my bide up Seton Hill (I tried it last week - I made it halfway on my rickety mountain bike. Next time, I'll try a lighter bike and see where I end up), I am able to make it up most of the hills in the GBG, which, if you've ever paid attention to Greensburg topography, is pretty darn impressive. This is probably why I felt proud, and not embarrassed, when my neighbor's four-year-old told me I had chubby legs yesterday. "That's right, " I said, thinking of my bike ride earlier that morning, "I'm very strong."
I think biking is set for a pretty big comeback. Not that riding bikes has necessarily ever disappeared, but with ever-rising fuel costs, I wouldn't be suprised to see more and more people turn to the bicycle as their primary form of transportation. I mean, bicycles! Come on, they are perfect! Bicycling is the most efficient form of transportation - no need for gasoline or anything other than the power of my legs - and it's an excellent full-body work out (well, if you incorporate your arms in your riding style). More importantly, it's fun! And, if you live in the city*, like I do, it's also fast.
An example: I need to go to the post office. I could borrow a car, drive down Pennsylvania avenue, and then find a place to park. If it's a busy week-day, I could spend more time circling the block for a parking space (admit it, you've done it) than the actual drive from my house to the p.o. Or I could hop on my bike. I can keep pace with a car (due to the three traffic lights between here and there), and I never have to worry about finding a place to park. I bet that if someone driving left my house at the same time I left on a bike, I would beat them there, easily. (Wanna race? You're on!)
I took my first biking vacation last week. Three friends and I drove to Presque Isle, Erie where we camped (Props to the Hills Family Campground) and biked the gorgeous penisula's 13.5 miles of bike trails. When we needed a break from biking (who needs breaks?!?), we went to the beach to tan and to swim. Fabulous!
My new hobby is fixing bikes. Yesterday, I learned how to adjust the brakes on the $10 touring bike I had just picked up. From the looks of things, fixing bikes is something I'll be able to learn pretty quickly. I'd never be able to say that about a car (I'm the chica who never owned a tire gauge.). After doing some research online, I discovered that the Sears Spaceliner I just bought was a worthy investment. I can probably sell the parts alone and make back the money I've spent on my recent bike obsession. Sweet!
Pittsburgh has a neat organization called FreeRide.
"Free Ride! is a non-profit recycle-a-bike shop that enables people of all ages to obtain, recycle, and maintain bicycles. Through educating people on how to recondition used, donated bicycles, we are putting forgotten bikes back on the streets in a reliable, safe condition. We aim to enhance the health of our community and environment by promoting active living and encouraging bicycle transportation."
This organization teaches people how to repair bicycles. I know where I'll be spending some free time in the coming months!
For those of you who ride, Happy Biking!
* kinda. Greensburg's primary charm is its small-town feel.
"In short, it is singularly difficult to kill yourself with carrots." - Andrew Saul, doctoryourself.com
Today I scored an Oster Juice Extractor for $5 from a flea market. I've wanted one for a while, but am unwilling to pay a hefty price tag that I will, in all probability, use a few times before growing bored with it. This happened with my fancy espresso maker, food dehydrator, bread machine, and vegetable steamer. Luckily, I didn't pay for any of these appliances with now gather dust in my kitchen.
Maybe you've heard tales of my kitchen before:
"Some days I am practically a kitchen whizkid, whipping up those delicious banana nut muffins from scratch, with a nary a glance at my recipe as I do so. Other days, such as today, I am fairly certain it should be illegal for me to be around kitchen appliances, especially those with razor sharp blades whizzing around at the speed of light."
Perhaps, even, you've followed some of my suggestions for using up leftover turkey.
Well... Then you know the danger the world faces now that I own a Juice Extractor!
How ominous the name: EX-tract-or.
Even juice, such an innocent word, has dark connotations:
Juice. N. A fluid naturally contained in plant or animal tissue. (dictionary.com)
Animal tissue? As in, sheep juice? Rattlesnake juice? Flesh juice.
Ew.
By the way, this entry has no point. I just wanted to share the quote at the beginning because I thought it was silly, and I imagined an orange man trying, in vain, to commit suicide through carrots. Isn't there a Korn song about dying carrots? Hmm... The possiblities, of juice extractors and of carrot suicide attempts, are endless. Mwhahaha!
----
Edit: So far I've made Apple-Pear-Kiwi-Pineapple Juice (yum!) and Beet-Cucumber-Apple juice (not-so-much). I just learned that I can use the leftover pulp in recipes. Sweet!
"The Girls' Guide to Writing and Publishing" by Jami Attenberg, another article in print magazine, discusses the chick-lit phenomenon in the publishing industry. Although this article looks at the books from a collective perspective, focusing mostly on the cover art, Attenberg makes an important point when she writes, "The publishing industry loves to put its products into neat marketing boxes. Maybe over the next decade, chick-lit authors will learn how to punch their way out."
An accidental browse in the library ended with me with a copy of print magazine in my hands. This, my friends, is the most fascinating magazine I've ever stumbled across. This magazine is best summed up by its catchphrase: "Design Culture Media." Definitely a must-read for any would be published author concerned about the state of publishing.
One article, "Bound for Glory" discusses the future of books and the impact that electronic technology could have on the print medium. The author writes,
"The sublime irony of reading in cyberspace is that while we can hopscotch among texts and poke our heads through information windows with ease, we can only see one page at a time. Because we can't wrap our hands around an electronic text, we can't wrap our heads around it."
I can definitely see the logic behind this statement. I am a very visual and active learner. I draw circles around words or phrases, highlight pertinent passages, make marginal marks and notes, or draw small doodles so I can visualize a concept. I make arrows that connect similiar ideas, draw stars next to passages that I hope I'll be able to find again, or stick post-it notes on pages I want to visit again. This method of absorbing information does not work with online texts. If I find something particularly interesting online, I make a printed copy. This is the copy I'll refer to later -- very rarely do I visit a random webpage more than one time.
The author later refers to the way that a book can hold memories, similiar to the items I've just described, but also things like dog-eared pages, cover notations, or even water-marked pages from an accidental dip in the bathtub. Electronic text does not have the same "memory" -- a hard drive can be wiped out, a server knocked out of cyberspace, and a url changed. Although I feel the internet is an important form of technology, I don't think electronic books will ever succeed in the way that a "real" book can because somehow a physical object will always seem more "real" than words flashing on a computer screen. (This, of course, begs the question of reality, but I'm really not in the mood today. ;c)
The author writes, "The print medium's saving grace, then, is that it is a sensual technology, the word made flesh. It tickles the haptic, as any bibliophile knows who has ever caressed an onionskin page, inhaled the musk of old pages, run a satisfied finger along the serried ranks on her shelves." As a life long book lover... Sigh... I so agree.
Although I didn't have to read this book, I found it when I was browsing the children's library last month. Since it's about the circus and I'm not sure whether my book is going to turn out to be YA or not, I figured I'd read a children's book just to see.
The Greatest Show Off Earth by Margaret Mahy is a fun-filled story about a traveling space circus. Hey, it sounds a bit like my travelling circus restaurant! Although this book did convince me that this age group is -not- my target age range (amazon lists it for ages 8-12), I was suprised at the sophisticated language used in the book: in other words, I don't have to worry too much about "dumbing down" my language in order to write a book that appeals to a larger audience.
Mahy also makes up a lot of words like "crashnabbersnuck" which are used throughout the book as curses. Using made-up curses is fun and a useful way to express negative feelings without inciting the wrath of parent-censors. Nice!
The other thing that impressed me about this book is the way that every unusual detail introduced comes to play a role in the story: in other words, this story leaves no loose ends. Delphinium, the main character, mentions her missing parents and an old babysitter, and Jason, the other main character, mentions his missing brother, and, BAM, by the end of the book, all of these mysteries are solved.
This is important, I think, especially in writing for a younger audience, because kids remember EVERYTHING. If you promise to play a game of Othlello or let them feed your fish, they will remember and hound you about it. Believe me. So I'm sure a story is much the same way. I had a cool experience yesterday in that one of my critique partners from the WPF program had her 12-year-old cousin staying with her the week she received my manuscript.
Since my story stars 13-year-old Daniel, she let her cousin read the manuscript -and- had the cousin write her own critique and her questions about the story. She sent this critique with hers. Since I got a half-page of questions plus a critique, I figured she was interested in the story enough to want to read more. This is a positive sign, and makes me think that I should focus on the YA audience.
The problem, I think, are the issues I want to address in the book: in some respects, my book is a coming of age story as well as a story about "roots." How does having a YA audience limit the issues I can discuss in the novel? Maybe it's okay for a YA book to be edgy.
Daniel is a pretty jaded kid; he's seen more than most kids his age and is exposed to cigarettes, drugs, drinking, etc. at a fairly early age. I wasn't as worldly as Daniel when I was thirteen, but I know quite a few men who were having sex even earlier than 13 and in some respects, I was a late bloomer when I tried my first cigarette in the eighth grade. Come to think of it, the girl who introduced me to smoking had been smoking for several years before I ever tried one. Maybe I can write for a YA audience. Hmm...
Well, it took me 614 rather painful pages to get here, but this is the best sentence in John Irving's A Son of the Circus:
"Dr. Daruwalla's awareness that the source of his conversion to Christianity was the love bite of a transsexual serial killer had further diminished the doctor's already declining religious zeal; that the toe biter had not been the ghost of the pilgrim who dismembered St. Francis Xavier was more than a little disappointing."
By saying that the reading was painful, I'm not saying that I hated the book: The story itself is rather fascinating. Like other books of Irving's I have read, this book is chock full of weird goodness including, but by no means limited to, thug dwarfs, circus freaks, prostitutes, gay geneticists, and a Bollywood movie star and his Jesuit priest-in-training identical twin. The narrator focuses on one main character: Farrokh Daruwalla, an Indian-born doctor who emigrates to Canada but is unable to resist returning to India every couple of years.
I had two main problems with the text as I was reading it, problems that would have induced me to toss the book aside if I were reading only for pleasure and not because the book is one of my contracted reads for the master's program. (Don't blame my mentor, I chose the darn thing!)
I loved the first sentence of the book:
"Usually, the dwarfs kept bringing him back -- back to the circus and back to India."
But after a few paragraphs, the book delves into a rather technical discussion of dwarfism that made me feel sleepy. This is probably why the book was in my house months before the master's program began and why I read a few pages then got distracted from the book. As I continued to read this time, I challenged myself to examine exactly what it was about the book that wasn't engaging me.
The first problem, in fact both problems, relate to the point of view. First, the protagonist is referred to in so many different ways, as well as other characters in the book, that it became almost distracting. The author refers to Farrokh Daruwalla as:
Farrokh Daruwalla
Farrokh
Dr. Daruwalla
Daruwalla
The doctor
The esteemed doctor
The screenwriter
The failed screenwriter
Often, this will switch in the same paragraph. One paragraph will use "Dr. Daruwalla" and "Farrokh." Then, the next three paragraphs, refer to "Farrokh" and the next paragraph calls him "the doctor." This wouldn't necessarily be so bad except that Farrokh Daruwalla is not the only doctor, Dr. Daruwalla, or screenwriter in the novel. I got so confused in places that I needed to flip back a couple of pages and start a scene over in order to figure out who was talking.
Adding to this confusion is the several cases of mistaken idenitity that take place: There are two Dr. Tatu's, a young man who becomes a young woman and later disguises his(her) identity, the afore-mentioned Bollywood star and his identical twin who comes to India unaware that he has a twin. Although, this theme adds to the circus-like atmosphere of the entire novel, at points it became so distracted that I had a difficult time forcing my way through the novel.
Since my novel has so many characters in the works, this novel serves to me as a warning to be careful with how I refer to the characters and to not let the story get away from me in the hands of all these people: I don't think it's a bad thing to have a huge cast of characters, but it's definitely something that makes the novel more difficult to navigate both for the reader and the author.
The other problem with A Son of the Circus is that the narrative distance was such that I didn't feel particularly emotionally engaged with any of the characters. The story is told from Farrokh Daruwalla's perspective, but the narrator knows much more than the doctor himself. Again, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I think with a huge cast of character's such as Irving's, one character needs to take the lead by bringing the reader right inside of his or her head. I think Irving was shooting for a deep, internal third person point of view, but the occasional comments by the narrator about the doctor pull the P.O.V. back and make it difficult to identify with the main character.
This is, of course, a personal preference, but it's something I need to consider as I write the first chapters of my own novel. There are many different approaches to a novel, but I need to find one that works for me first as a reader, then as a writer: Do I write as an author watching a scene unfold before me, or do I sink inside the head of one of my characters and watch through his or her eyes? How do I avoid having my reader be aware of me, the wizard directing the show from behind the curtains? This is definitely something to consider, because there were points in Irving's novel that I was all too aware of the author.
All said, this book provided an interesting read: the ending felt satisfying based on the rest of the novel, though the parts about the gay geneticist seemed almost forced, as if Irving had something to say about homosexuality and AIDS and this was the only book that would allow him to send that message. Irving did tie up all of the loose ends, which is necessary for me to enjoy a read, and all of the mysteries presented were eventually solved. I did have a minor panic in the last few pages, because it seemed as if Irving were preparing to off Dr. Daruwalla, but the good doctor survived, and so did I.
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moon phases |
