I’m Really Stressed. Period.

This is going to be extremely short because I’ve been wanting to post for a couple of nights and have not had the time.  I still don’t have the time.

It’s finals week here at Nyack College, and I am leaving for home (Huntingdon) on Saturday.  We’ll be stopping in Newark to hit up the Portuguese supermarket on the way home (sumol!), and then 5 hours in the car.  Lovely.

But until then, I have 3 more tests to take, two of them tomorrow, and I am on the verge of losing my nerve.

I’m really stressed.  Period.

Doctor Who, I’ll Wait For You!!!

So I was going to write another Easter post because Easter is important to me (favorite holiday?  Maybe.  Definitely).  BUT another pressing issue that I can rant about is going to take over.

Nyack College does not get BBC America, and I am missing the series premiere of Doctor Who.

Technically speaking, I’ve already missed it.  It makes my blood boil at the indignation of it all.  We need the Doctor on this campus so much.  It would make finals week (starting Wednesday) so much more bearable.  It might even reach a level of tolerability if the Doctor were present, but alas.  This is the most unfortunate thing to have happened in my Doctor Who Fan existence EXCEPT for when my 10th doctor sonic screwdriver went missing/was stolen/returned to the TARDIS due to disproportionally high levels of Huon particles.  So frustrating…

But at least I know that in one week, just one, I will be safely in Pennsylvania watching Matt Smith and Karen Gillan running around Utah in a stetson and an incredibly short skirt.  Hopefully by the third episode I will be able to wear a tee-shirt that was meant as a Christmas gift (still have yet to see it) that says “The Angels Have The Phone Box” on it.  At that moment, my life will be grand.

Amy Pond, 11th Doctor

And until then, I will wait patiently for the Doctor.  I’ll write my last paper, take my finals, and finish packing my life up to take home.  But know this — all the while I will be thinking about how much longer I have to wait for the Doctor.

Television is bad for you, kids.  It’s addictive and habit-forming, much like smoking without the risk of cancer, but (depending) sharing the potential for exceedingly bad breath.

Good (Earth) FriDay

Today has double significance for about a billion people around the world.  Not only is today Good Friday, it’s also Earth Day.  So let’s talk quickly about the history of both!

Good Friday is the Friday before Easter Sunday and commemorates the day that Jesus Christ died on the cross.  Because Holy Week is based off of the lunar calendar, Good Friday can fall on any date between March 20th and April 23rd.  As early as the first century, the Christian church began celebrating Fridays as a special day of prayer, but in the fourth century, Good Friday became an importantly distinct holiday.  At first called Holy Friday or Great Friday, the term ‘Good Friday’ that we currently use likely has Germanic origins.  More liturgical church traditions see the priests dressed in black and the lights shut off in the sanctuary without even a candle lit.  If said liturgical church takes communion on Good Friday, it must be blessed on the day before (Maundy Thursday).  Sequencing of events follows the timeline of the crucifixion of Christ.

Earth Day has been with us every April 22nd for the past 41 years.  The first Earth Day in 1970 spurred 20 million Americans to action in preservation and creation of green technologies, effectively starting the environmental movement. Now, over 1 billion people worldwide will join in the celebration of Earth Day, making it the largest civic observance in the world.  The theme for 2011’s Earth Day is A Billion Acts of Green®. The belief behind A Billion Acts of Green® holds that more work to reduce carbon emissions can come from individuals making small commitments to change one small aspect of their lives than from a few select people changing everything about themselves.  They aim to have the titular billion acts registered by the 2012 UN Conference on Sustainable Development in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

So what’s so special about them falling on the same day this year?

Good.  I’m glad you asked that.  Good Friday is the day when we commemorate the death of the son of God.  We weep for the agony of his loss of life, while bittersweetly acknowledging that without his brutal passing, we would be lost in an abysmal cycle of failure.  Earth Day is a day when we promote good treatment of the earth because this planet is being choked and beaten to death by industries that don’t value any form of life (least of all human).  Earth Day is a day when we stop and say ‘no’ to those who would destroy the earth.  The earth, this magnificent planet, is itself as innocent as Christ when he was slain on Good Friday.  I think this is God giving Christians a hint that the earth is important, and we need to protect it.  Jesus died for the salvation of many.  Maybe that ‘many’ is supposed to understand that the earth is a precious thing that we need to save.  It might not just be coincidence that Good Friday and Earth Day coincide.

Hey!

Alright, maybe I’m a stickler here for good conversational skills, and maybe texting voids the need for those skills, but this has been bothering me for a while now, so please hear me out.

Stop texting me the word ‘Hey’

I know for a fact that there are other ways to begin a conversation, even a texting one.  Even ‘Hey, how are you?’ is better than ‘hey’.

Tried to hide the name of the sender. It says Hey

  Hey what?  ‘Hey’ is what horses eat, as my dad always says (one of the few puns he manages well).  You may as well text me the word ‘bananas.’  In fact, please do text me ‘bananas’ instead of ‘hey.’  I would enjoy that more, it would make me laugh, and I would possibly respond to it.

Is anybody else frustrated by this?  Am I the only soul out there who wants to engage in proper discourse or, barring that, refrain from discourse at all?

In other news, the semester is finally drawing to a close here at Nyack College.  Ten more days and I am outta here!

That’s all I have…  I hope you don’t feel let down.

His Name is Jack

On BabyNames.Com, they have a page with tips for writers on naming characters.  Tip number six, to avoid overused names, accuses every writer of naming their protagonist “Jack” while at the same time calling it an enormous faux pas.  They claim that “naming your hero Jack is like naming your son Aidan.  It’s overdone.”  They encourage the writer to be more creative so that the character will be more memorable.

Captain Jack Sparrow

I take serious issue with this advice in regards to the name Jack, and let me explain why.  Jack, as a character, is not an overused name.  Jack is an archetype.  In fact, Jack the hero has his own Wikipedia page.  When you name your character Jack, it’s not a cop out because you lack the creativity to name him something better.  It’s more like rising to a challenge to reinvent the morally ambiguous, trickster Jack that we all know and love.

Jack Black

Take my character Jack Remy.  He fulfills all of the standard hero-Jack rules of being a joker and a player, manipulative and cunning while at the same time he is a character full of sorrow that has no remedy.  His broken spirit is what drives him more than his Jackness, but he is still a Jack.  There’s no other name for him.  He’s a new take on an old archetype.  Of course, this is also the novel I’m writing/experimenting with for the sheer purpose of exploring fantasy archetypes and putting pressure on them with more realistic characters.  If a story ever needed a Jack to be a whole story, it’s this one.

Jack and the Bean Stalk

Other names are overdone today, and you see them just as much in literature as you do in the Social Security Administration’s lists of popular baby names.  Names like Bella and Edward, for example, have risen in popularity dramatically since the explosion of Twilight (which is a shame, in my opinion), and please stop naming your romantic leads Jane and your pregnant teenagers Mary.

Jack The Ripper

Jack is a special name in the English language.  A Jack-of-all-trades might carry a jackknife, a car jack, a jackhammer, and a jack-in-the-box in the back of a car that he hijacked from the Brit with a Union Jack in the window.  While driving down the road in October, he might pass a jack straw or a jack o’lantern, and if he plays cards, he’ll have a jack of spades for sure.

The man Jack from The Graveyard Book

This is an huzzah to Jacks.  The good Jacks, the bad Jacks, and the confusing Jacks that we just can’t help but trust, even though he might betray us.  This is to the Jack who slayed a giant, the Jack who captained a pirate ship, the Jack who killed a bunch of women in London in the 1800s, the Jack who helped a bunch of people kill themselves, the Jack who founded beat poetry, the Jack who made Kung Fu Panda, the Jack who worked with Marilyn Monroe, the Jack who was President of the United States (and his wife Jackie), the Jack who died in the icy aftermath of the Titanic, the Jack who was lost on an island with the rest of his flight cabin.  To Jack Daniels, To Jack McFarland, to Jack Bauer, to Jack Tripper, to Jack Frost, to Jack Skellington, to Jackie Chan, to Jack-Jack Parr, to Jack Pumpkinhead, to Jack Merridew.  To Jack and Jill, Jack Sprat, Little Jack Horner, Jack Be Nimble.  To Big Jack, Happy Jack, Jack and Diane, Hit the Road Jack.  To Jack.

Jack Kerouac

If your character’s name is Jack, if he’s crying out and begging to be Jack, don’t force him to be someone else.  Take on the challenge of Jack.

Updated 4/20: I am Jack’s overused and exhausted mind.

O, Rose, Thou art Sick!

William Blake, "The Sick Rose"

The sick rose…  I marvel at William Blake’s ability to take a thing of beauty (a rose) that symbolizes another thing of beauty (a woman) and transform it into something dark (a harlot).  “The Sick Rose” is I think my favorite Blake poem, and it comes from the Experience half of The Songs of Innocence and of Experience.

I’m sick.  Not like the rose is sick in the poem; I’m actually ill and in need of hot tea and chicken soup.  Sometimes when I get ill, I get a little silly, too, and since I’ve only been active for about 45 minutes today, I figured I would share some romantic poetry with you.  Romantic referring to the romanticism movement, not lovey dovey.

When you get sick, what medicines or family remedies help you feel better?  (I’ll try just about anything to be better within the next two hours)

Know Your Onion!

Today I interviewed Camden Lawrence of the Nyack College Golf Team (formal article in the Forum forthcoming), and it got me thinking about some things, especially passions.

When I was at freshman orientation for Adelphi in the summer of 2009, all of us new high school graduates were herded into the spiffy concert hall, where we were taught how to ‘meet people’ and then asked to practice with another person in our general vicinity whom we’d not met before.  The trick to having interesting dialogue with a person is to find out what they’re passionate about and get them talking on it.  Don’t even bother with “What’s your major?” or “What year of school are you in?” or even “Where are you from?” — Start with “What’s your favorite thing to do?” and that gets a person talking.

The surprising thing about it, we were told, is that when someone else speaks passionately about a subject (any subject) and we listen, their passion rubs off on us and we become interested in it, even if at any other time, we wouldn’t be.  I remember talking to a guy about baseball for several minutes and being interested in the game, even though every trip I’d ever taken to the Altoona Curve in middle school had bored me to tears.  He was passionate about baseball, though, and so it became interesting to me.  The approach is a good one if you’re stuck in a situation with someone you don’t know very well/at all.  I’ve talked about dogs, eHarmony, video games, music, theater, baseball, and other things with various people over the years by asking first what they love to do before the boring things.

I guess it boils down to this:  Passion is intriguing.

Take my golf interview with Camden, for example.  I know more about golf than I do about baseball, and have some very fond memories of golfing with my dad when my sisters and I were little, but it wasn’t something I ever pursued.  We were more geared toward soccer as kids, and then I quit doing that to join color guard/marching band, which I quit to be in musicals.  I had an enjoyable semester as part of the AU Farm (Ultimate Frisbee team), but basically, I’m not a sportsy person.  My exercise comes from hiking and walking and the occasional ballroom dance.  I guess I’m fairly sedentary.  Maybe that’s a byproduct of a couple of years of depression, but still, it’s true.

But the point is, I spent about half an hour listening to Camden talk about why he loves golf.  By the end of the interview, I wanted to get out there and start golfing–it sounded superb from his description of the sport.  But it wasn’t just his description of the game that got me interested, it was his passion for it and his dedication to it.

When he was talking about becoming a golf instructor someday, I realized that he must feel the same way about golf that I do about writing.  It’s what he loves to do.  That kind of passion for something is magnificent, especially in an era when society pushes us more and more to conform by taking office jobs (the 9 to 5 kind that leave people exhausted and bitter after two years) or settling for something that’ll pay the bills.  We’re not expected to have a passion, let alone pursue one, so when you meet someone who does, it’s a remarkable thing.

It’s invigorating to meet someone with a passion, and (for me, at least), it makes us want to invest more in our own passions.  After the interview was over and Camden had left, I felt this sudden rush to get into my fiction and lay down something new and fantastic.  His passion for golf sparked something in my passion for writing.

It’s like what Donald Junkins told me the other night.  Pursue it.  Pursue your passion and, no matter what it is, you’ll be happy in life.  You’ll also probably be more successful if you do what you love and are good at it than if you waste your time learning how to do something you don’t enjoy.  Pursue what you love.

So what are you passionate about?

(PS–I’ll give you a cupcake if you can explain the title of this blog without googling it.)

Donald Junkins smiled at me

Last night, the Nyack English department spearheaded by Brad McDuffie hosted a poetry reading with Donald Junkins in “Dead” Presidents Hall in Shuman (I say “dead” because most of the men in the portraits are dead, also in honor of Dr. Beach, who always refers to it as Dead Presidents Hall).  In lieu of having our 6-9 fiction writing class with McDuffie, we were invited to trek up the hill to Shuman to listen to Junkins’ poetry and wisdom.

Donald Junkins

I loved his poems and the way he presented them, but I think my favorite thing about the night were the diversions.  Every so often, he would trail off in the middle of a line to explain it, and by way of explanation tell stories of his life.  He talked about life in the thirties as a small child, fishing in Maine with his sons, studying with Anne Sexton under Robert Frost, traveling to California with Robert Kennedy before he was assassinated.

I love listening to men and women of his generation speak.  They have a wealth of knowledge and wisdom that only comes through life experiences.  Listening to a person in their eighties or nineties talk, I feel like the recipient of a grand tradition–like there’s something bigger in the world going on, something time honored and unique, something that I’ve been given to explore and fulfill.  It’s like destiny manifests itself in the wisdom of our predecessors.  Especially in today’s society that places value and emphasis on youth and physical beauty, we need to remember that the younger you are, the less you know.  Age deserves respect.  The good don’t die young; the fools do.  Wise men live to be great-grandfathers.

Junkins read mostly from this book

So I had one question for Donald Junkins after the reading, one thought burning a hole in my mind.  I waited while he signed copies of his book until finally I reached the front.  I started out by saying, “I don’t have anything for you to sign because I can’t afford to buy one of your books, but if I did have money I would because I really enjoyed listening–”  I got cut off.  He reached back to his podium and grabbed one of his books that he’d read from, “The Cleveland Avenue Poems.”  The dedication that he wrote on the cover reads: To Maggie, who was here, from Donald Junkins.  It was possibly one of the nicest things someone has done for me without knowing me at all.  After this exchange, I proceeded to ask him my question.  “I’m a writer,” I said, “or at least I pretend to be.  I want to make writing my profession.  Do you have any advice?”

I wish I could remember word for word what he said, but basically it boiled down to, “Pursue it.  You can make writing a profession.  You might have to get a job as an assistant writer somewhere, but you can make writing a profession.  Sometimes it’s scary because it’s not the most stable job, but you can do it if you pursue it.”  He also told me twice to talk to Professor McDuffie.  “Talk to Brad,” he said.  “He can help you.”  (Yes, McDuffie, that means I will likely be bothering you over the next four semesters while I’m here).

Then, a bit later, while I was discussing my independent study for next semester with D. Beach, Junkins came back to me.  “You said your name was Maggie, right?”  “Yes…?”  “I have something else for you.”

I followed him back to his pile of books and notes that he’d read from.  He had a two-page excerpt from his novel typed out on computer paper, as well as a list of the poems he planned on reading.  He signed them both and gave them to me, reaffirming that if I pursue it, I can succeed as a writer.

I left that reading feeling more validated as a writer and more confident about my future than I ever have.

I finally saw Slumdog Millionaire!

Maybe it’s a little delayed that I’m just now writing a post about Slumdog Millionaire because it came out in 2008 and it is now 2011, but don’t judge me.  I love movies, but I don’t often get to see them as soon as they come out.  This movie, for example, came out while I was in Argentina, and had already left theaters by the time I came back to the States.  So by sheer happenstance, I had not seen Slumdog Millionaire until last night.

I knew I would like it a long time ago.  A love story, trivia, flashbacks, ethnic/cultural exploration, gang violence–everything that I could ever want in a movie was right there.  Sometimes we get our hopes up, though, for something that we wait for a long time.  Sometimes we get disappointed when we finally see a movie after all those years…  Thankfully, I did not have that disappointment after SM.  Instead, I was even more blown away than I had hoped.  There’s definitely a reason that it won Best Picture that year.

I can tell when I’ve seen a good movie because it stays with me all day.  I went to bed last night after watching it still pondering different aspects of the film.  What could have been said, but wasn’t, by the characters, much like the way I replay actual conversations in my head (you know, when you wish you had been cooler or tougher or smarter, and what if you had been?).  I couldn’t think of a way to improve it.  It was just a thrill to relive it in my memory as I was falling asleep.  I don’t want to talk about the plotline or the social relevancy of the movie beyond saying that it was a captivating story and forces important issues of poverty and gang violence into view that need to be discussed.  I’m just going to say go watch it if you haven’t.

And I can really tell if I’ve seen a good movie if I have vivid dreams with complex story lines afterword, which I did.  The dream itself had very little to do with the plot of SM, but I know that the story was inspired by the movie.  Bonus: I remember the details of the dream well enough that I could write it down and turn it into a story or novella.

So though I doubt you are as behind the times as I am with modern movies, if you haven’t seen Slumdog Millionaire yet, go watch it.  It’s beautifully told, and it gets my cinematic seal of approval (which is actually hard to achieve).  I would watch this movie again.  I would probably even buy my own copy of it if I saw it in the store.  It’s a gem.

My Back-up Plans

Because of the responses I received to my last post, I figured I would quickly jot down some of my actual back-up plans for life if being a professional writer doesn’t exactly pan out the way I’d like.  Here they are for you to peruse:

  • Move to Switzerland and attend culinary school.
  • Become a government translator (already done this once).
  • Become a tour guide (catering to the gringos).
  • Own a Bed & Breakfast.
  • Own a used book store.
  • Own a coffee/tea shop.
  • Any combination of the previous three.
  • Start a breakfast themed restaurant.
  • Marry a wealthy doctor (I could do this while being a writer, too).
  • Become a TV actress.
  • Become a flight attendant.
  • Become a movie director/producer.
  • Time travel with the Doctor.
  • Work with political and wartime refugees.
  • Work for Love 146 or a similar organization
  • Create artisan jewelry.
  • Live on a farmette where I can grow my own vegetables and raise chickens.
  • Live in a sister/friend’s basement, unemployed and underfed, but happy.

As you can see, I’ve put a lot of thought into the topic of “what to do if writing fails.”  Each of these possible futures is something that I’ve thought of in the past and seriously considered as a secondary, alternative life if push comes to shove.  It’s a risky business today, writing.  We hear about the decline in print media with the advent of technology all the time, and with our culture pushing us further toward an existence that does not require deep thought, serious writers face a daunting and harrowing future.  Every day, we’re warned, the written word might die.  When I look around, I see early stages of Fahrenheit 451 eeking their way into our society.  Writing is a dangerous gamble, but it’s one that I’m willing to make.  Just in case, though, it is nice to have some back-ups already brainstormed.

What career paths have you considered as “back-ups” or alternatives?