me gustas tu
It's taking a while, but the realization that I must find something to do for the rest of my life is slowly sinking in. I admit, it's still somewhat of foreign territory, but at least I am hopeful about the notion of finding something that makes me smile in the mornings when I pick my head up off the pillow.
This morning, I opened my eyes ever so slowly and gazed at my alarm clock. It was still before eleven, so I put my head back on that pillow and curled up under my comfortable blue blanket. The list of everything I needed to do was still very fresh and one of those things is pinned beneath my arms on this desk.
I'm not sure how I managed to be stupid enough to have to take a class after graduation, but I did. So here I am needing to finish up this midterm--some cafe mocha on the other side of the computer tower, some good writing music and a stack of books on my right. All fabulous books (Angels in America by Tony Kusner, A Thousand Miles by Jane Smiley and Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri), but nothing I really want to write about. I'd rather go outside and lie under a tree, studying the undersides of the leaves.
Sometimes, I walk around and try to figure out how the hell you would describe the colors that are popping up everywhere. The intensity of green illuminated by sunshine--you can't describe that in words. It's like trying to hold a molecule in your hands--possible in an abstract way, but not really. Right? I can say, THAT WAS THE MOST AMAZING GREEN I'VE EVER SEEN! but it doesn't translate. The way to translate it is to write three paragraphs about the sound of the leaves, the way they move and simply obsess about it--then you get inside the head of the character and that's the best way to translate. It's kind of how Benjy obsessed about how Caddy smells like trees in The Sound and the Fury, but not really.
Show, don't tell.
I spend 60% of my day thinking about writing. About sentences and words, and wishing that I were writing something instead. Physically writing--with the perfect pen and paper it would glide over so effortlessly. With just the right amount of pressure, you leave marks on the back of the page, but don't rip through it, or leave them too deeply. And the thinner the tip of the pen, the more beautiful the writing.
See, it gets weird. So I don't talk about it too much.
Reminds me of metafiction--the idea of writing about writing. Talking about talking, obsessing with singing the blues.
The things I love most are the silences between the notes--the glue that holds two pieces together. In other words, whatever connects something to another. It's like how a smile can make the world seem like enough, just right. A smile, a perfect sentence.
Yeah, I'm a nerd.
The real thing that I was trying to get at was that I read an article last night written by Pam Houston about hiking this one area of Colorado, and it was just such a good article. She is the reason I decided to be a creative writing major. Something about the title story of her first book (although it now has the worst cover in all of creation and makes me cringe like you wouldn't believe) made writing seem like the most natural, important thing to do in life. She just came out with a new book and went on tour, but unfortunately we don't sell enough of her books to ask her to come out.
[An aside: Kurt Vonnegut has a new book coming out and it makes me want to jump up and down with frustration like Rumplestilskin since no one knows anything about it and it appears to be overdue]
The real point is that college has ended [well, will really be over June 22 when I turn in my portfolio] and that now I suppose a job is in order. First, there will be a detour to Brasil that will last god knows how long. I have been speaking to some charming Brasilians whose emails induce random fits of laughter. I think I've found the LC that I want to run away to--who would have thought a crew of engineers could be so much fun? Then there will be grad school and getting an MFA. I still dream of Iowa. I don't care what people say. Corn fields and Kurt Vonnegut--what more do you really need to capture a girl's heart?
So much to do, so little time. All I really want to do is go dancing on the coast with someone who can make you turn beautifully with his fingertips. Instead, it's time to sit here and do some academic writing.
This morning, I opened my eyes ever so slowly and gazed at my alarm clock. It was still before eleven, so I put my head back on that pillow and curled up under my comfortable blue blanket. The list of everything I needed to do was still very fresh and one of those things is pinned beneath my arms on this desk.
I'm not sure how I managed to be stupid enough to have to take a class after graduation, but I did. So here I am needing to finish up this midterm--some cafe mocha on the other side of the computer tower, some good writing music and a stack of books on my right. All fabulous books (Angels in America by Tony Kusner, A Thousand Miles by Jane Smiley and Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri), but nothing I really want to write about. I'd rather go outside and lie under a tree, studying the undersides of the leaves.
Sometimes, I walk around and try to figure out how the hell you would describe the colors that are popping up everywhere. The intensity of green illuminated by sunshine--you can't describe that in words. It's like trying to hold a molecule in your hands--possible in an abstract way, but not really. Right? I can say, THAT WAS THE MOST AMAZING GREEN I'VE EVER SEEN! but it doesn't translate. The way to translate it is to write three paragraphs about the sound of the leaves, the way they move and simply obsess about it--then you get inside the head of the character and that's the best way to translate. It's kind of how Benjy obsessed about how Caddy smells like trees in The Sound and the Fury, but not really.
Show, don't tell.
I spend 60% of my day thinking about writing. About sentences and words, and wishing that I were writing something instead. Physically writing--with the perfect pen and paper it would glide over so effortlessly. With just the right amount of pressure, you leave marks on the back of the page, but don't rip through it, or leave them too deeply. And the thinner the tip of the pen, the more beautiful the writing.
See, it gets weird. So I don't talk about it too much.
Reminds me of metafiction--the idea of writing about writing. Talking about talking, obsessing with singing the blues.
The things I love most are the silences between the notes--the glue that holds two pieces together. In other words, whatever connects something to another. It's like how a smile can make the world seem like enough, just right. A smile, a perfect sentence.
Yeah, I'm a nerd.
The real thing that I was trying to get at was that I read an article last night written by Pam Houston about hiking this one area of Colorado, and it was just such a good article. She is the reason I decided to be a creative writing major. Something about the title story of her first book (although it now has the worst cover in all of creation and makes me cringe like you wouldn't believe) made writing seem like the most natural, important thing to do in life. She just came out with a new book and went on tour, but unfortunately we don't sell enough of her books to ask her to come out.
[An aside: Kurt Vonnegut has a new book coming out and it makes me want to jump up and down with frustration like Rumplestilskin since no one knows anything about it and it appears to be overdue]
The real point is that college has ended [well, will really be over June 22 when I turn in my portfolio] and that now I suppose a job is in order. First, there will be a detour to Brasil that will last god knows how long. I have been speaking to some charming Brasilians whose emails induce random fits of laughter. I think I've found the LC that I want to run away to--who would have thought a crew of engineers could be so much fun? Then there will be grad school and getting an MFA. I still dream of Iowa. I don't care what people say. Corn fields and Kurt Vonnegut--what more do you really need to capture a girl's heart?
So much to do, so little time. All I really want to do is go dancing on the coast with someone who can make you turn beautifully with his fingertips. Instead, it's time to sit here and do some academic writing.
1 Comments:
i miss you too, twin! i've been disconnected from the world for a whole week.. and will be for most of the summer. my blog and emails are probably the best way for anyone to get a hold of me, which sucks completely. hmmm...we need to catch up!
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