What should one write about? Thus far this has been a blog for general entries. I had intended it to be just a documentation of my unpolished literary efforts, my works-in-progress, but that didn't pan out. I guess the logic behind that was that my own life experiences lend themselves to my literary ones, so why differentiate?

For the ages, let the world know what I did on January 14, 2009:

8:10 AM. Woke up, slowly. It's always a struggle. my room is cold and dark; the sunlight never gets in.
9:30 AM. Started Day 2 of class with Kaz. The man is ancient, small and thin and very entertaining. He has silvery curly patches of hair on the sides of his otherwise bald head, and and silver goatee. He doesn't smile or laugh very much, but he enjoys himself. He is catlike in his movements, something I aspire to be, which is difficult for me. I'm pretty flexible for a guy, but I've lost what semblance of grace I got from dance. I didn't realize how tall I was until I was actually beside others in my acting class. I'm no Bryan Nothling or Brian Culp, but I have altitude. Anyway...
11:00 AM. Started read-through of Grace. We didn't get to me and Kes' scene yet. How disappointing. Soon enough, though!
12:30 PM. Forked over 20 bucks for a Phoenix t-shirt. Felt irritated because they didn't give any previous notice, so I had to give over money I had hoped to spend on food to get me through the day. But it's for a good cause.
1:30 PM. Had a lecture in Theatre History on Critiques of Victorian Ideals, specifically pertaining to Aestheticism, specifically pertaining to Oscar Wilde. That poor man had a bad ending to his artful life. It would've been terrible to see a man so intelligent, prolific, creative and congenial to have his spirit broken.
3:30 PM. Went to gym. Woohoo!
5:00 PM. Went to library, got books on Corinth, slavery in Ancient Greece, education and every day life in Ancient Greece. Still need to find stuff on Colchis, though. Dagnabbit. Got music from Wagner's Ring Cycle, and Spring Awakening. Wow, unintentional German fest!
6:30 PM Called Mom, talked to her and Ciaran and Gabby for a total of an hour and a half.
9:00 PM Watched Wayne's World with the twins. They enjoyed it, thank God, so it's not just good because of sentimental value.
10:30 PM Went over lines for Medea. At this point I don't know when I started doing other things, but I workshopped JIm's story more thoroughly, and now I'm here. And now I need only refer to this entry and I shall never forget what I did on this day that has never happened before and will never happen again. Of course, time is merely a human construct, as is the calendar. Without them, one day is just as much like any other day.

Writing Exercise

Seven days ago I ate at Denny's, and now nobody will talk to me. At the club on Tuesday, Charlie Silverman, that jowley, Victorian-minded, snifter-wielding fiend didn't even give me one of his legendary diatribes on propriety of men of high social standing. (He believes of course they should all concern themselves with cordon bleu chicken, wine, automobiles; cordon bleu damn-near everything. Even their prostitutes ought to be five star first class). Instead, Silverman decided to give me a frost-bitten shoulder, less broad and angular than his double-breasted suit will have you believe; more blunted and soft, (believe me, I know), but no less scathing. Indifference is one of his lesser-known talents among those who know him. And generally once you know Silverman, he immediately takes an interest in you. So the indifference is even more unsettling. At least with his rants he gave you the satisfaction that he cared enough to scald you and embarrass you with his rapier tongue in front of all the boys with their tumblers and cigarillos. To be crucified by Silverman was one of the highest compliments you could get apart from him wanting to sleep with you. It's very easy to forget, that like everything in the "good life", not every one is fortunate enough to know Charlie. So to be denied it is to be declared anathema. Once he ignores you you are now a leper, excommunicated into the subhuman world where all they eat is hash browns, bacon strips, Alps-sized pancake stacks, and black coffee, the most austere of drinks.

I'm going to try and take a new approach to my writing. I have one last shot at it for my Short Fiction workshop, so I think it should prove beneficial.

I've noticed that a lot of ideas I get are situations, static events that certainly hold great dramatic potential, but then I find myself attempting to force my characters to fit that situation. The characters end up becoming plot-driven, vehicles of an idea, rather than letting them drive the plot. Instead, for this final story, I'm going to start with a person, an image or a scene, not knowing where it's going to go or why the person I'm following is so darn intriguing. I'll let the story unfold before my eyes and enjoy the ride, rather than make all the minutiae work for me and cram it awkwardly into my stubborn framework. I'm doing it this way because I noticed that I enjoy my writing and it's at its best when I'm writing in the few exercises in class where we're given a sentence and we take that sentence and run with it. Like at the beginning of last term, we were given the phrase: "Sunburned, yes. But this is 1945." And somehow from that we had to build a world, a voice and a story explaining it, and even under the time constraint of 45 minutes, my writing felt free and unhindered. Last week we were required to write a scene with dialogue, where the characters are physically doing one thing, while they're talking about something else. It took me a little bit of time to start, but as soon as I did and made a choice, it got easier. I think this has something to do with using external stimuli as inspiration. I must constantly remind myself that creativity does not occur in a vacuum, that art is a reaction to the world, and all it takes are the right conditions to foster creativity, and the right element to catalyze the whole process, whatever that may be. A good artist must keep his or her senses open!

On the bright side, I've gone to the gym 4 times, this week. So I have upheld THAT, at the very least.

I haven't been back a week and I've already broken my resolution. I'm writing now, but now is 2 AM, January 10. I didn't write a thing for the 9th. My story's due in 2 days, and it's really not in shape for submission. It's true that if a class assignment is my biggest problem, then my life's pretty darn good. But it's more than that of course. Just once, I wish I could be someone with integrity. Just once I wish I could follow through with something, completely uncompromising, ruthless and relentless. I want to measure up to my ideals. It's hard to stay strong when the support I get, however much I appreciate it, I can only get from afar. I don't communicate a lot with my Writing classmates, while I'm around my theatre compadres 95% of the time, and there's only so much they can do for me, God bless 'em. It just gets real lonely out here, that's all I'm saying. Oh, and I don't think short fiction is my thing, at least the way they want it. I think I'm better off in poetry or playwriting, if anything. Or you know, just writing for myself. That's always easy. I know what I'm talking about and I don't have to explain to anybody.

Right now as well, I think I have no idea who I am. I am unable to speak freely and truthfully most of the time, and this is a terribly frustrating feeling. A lot of the time I seem to avoid having an opinion just so I don't have to go up against anyone and be shot down. I have little confidence. i wish I had confidence. I wish I had the balls to laugh at myself more, and stand up for what I believe in and who I am. I have no shape. I'm an amoeba. I really want a shape, something to call 'me'. If someone asked me who I am, I don't know what to tell them, besides the basic facts. It doesn't count to want to be these things unless I actually am them. It's not enough to want to be reliable and generous and compassionate and courageous. Everybody wants to have these qualities. It's not enough to want them. You have no idea how much I wish I had a shape.

2009: The Year of Gettin'erdone

These were my New Year's Resolutions from 2008:

-rig the US presidential elections so the democrats win
-be a better listener
-be a better reader
-finish the Harry Potter series
-read more plays
-read more CanLit
-read more contemporary lit in general. I have way too many old
dead guys sitting on my shelves. Not that I mind their company,
I need to spice up my personal library with a little more variety.
-actually give up something worth giving up for Lent. Or just give
something up in general.
-get writing into my daily schedule
-go to the gym
-meditate more
-watch more movies
-submit at least one article to the Martlet
-submit at least one comic to the Martlet
-finish my old sketchbook once and for all
-draw more
-get my freaking drivers license
-get to know my res-people a little better
-write to Grandma and Grandpa
-Learn how to love myself, and judge others less

Of all of these the only ones I achieved were that I read more plays, and I gave up alcohol for Lent. Some of those I did less of. I think I didn't end up doing a lot of those because they were vague and unquanitifiable. I won't make that same mistake. I have a few goals for this year, which I have every intention of fulfilling. I still enjoy resolutions, I don't care how silly people think they are. It's a great notion, to find specific ways to better ourselves and enrich our lives. "But we don't need New Years resolutions to do that" you may say. You're right. But it's one more opportunity to do so actively, and publicly announce it as well, so others who see it can bear witness to your commitment to them, and others can encourage you and call you on it if you don't achieve them. And it's also for the fun of it. I enjoy getting into the spirit of things, so why not? Anyway, here are my resolutions, which are more than just resolutions because they affect my work ethic and how I'm evaluated in school:

1. Excercise every day until March 28. Go to gym at least 4 times a week.
2.Write every day, from now until December 31, 2009. Keep a notebook handy at all times, and at the end of day, write in lap top or notebook. If I have neither handy for whatever reason, I'll have to write as soon as I get the opportunity. And remember, NO WRITING IS WASTED WRITING.

Yes, these seem like unrealistic goals, but honestly, the only thing keeping me from achieving them is myself. They are to become as necessary as eating, sleeping, going to school, and brushing my teeth. As necessary as it is for devout Muslims to say their five daily prayers. It's overwhelming to imagine actually carrying this out. And it will hurt, especially for someone who wavers as easily as I do. But if I can fulfill these, then the reward will more than compensate.