Delicious

I was recently talking with my mom about how I usually end up with a course load that is WAY too full. For some reason she got a kick out of how I described it. You see, at the educational buffet, my eyes are bigger than my stomach. I'll start looking at courses online, and they all look so good that I think 'Oh, I have to take this lit class. Art history? Film? Sign me up!'. Before I know it, I'm left with the maximum amount of credit hours and a stomach ache. I need to work on that.

The Wednesday Dig List

I've been knock out, drop dead sick for the past week, and it's tough. To survive, I have had to focus on the little things that make me happy so that the intense misery of the torso and throat don't take over and drown me. Yesterday, these things hit me left and right, so I felt inspired to make a list of what is bringing me sunshine right now. I owe these things my sanity.

1. Clean Sheets. Even though doing laundry at my apartment is a pain, I suffered through expensive and mostly faulty machines and did it today. And oh were the payoffs sweet. There is nothing better then clean sheets, unless that is clean, germ-free sheets. Along with being smooth and fresh smelling, my current sheets have the bonus of NOT being a hive of infestation. I already feel about ten times healthier, and slept better last night than I have for a week. Viva Tide! And, in keeping with the current topic,

2. Dry Jeans. The dryers at my complex are the most hit and miss things in the world. I've tried to memorize which ones work well, but their pattern is one of complete randomness. I always put my darks in with a little prayer that this time will be magical, this time they will come out appropriately dry and that I won't have to hang shirts and pants over the backs of chairs. I need the comfort that only a pair of washer-dried pants can give! Plus, that feeling when you bury your face in a steaming batch of laundry straight from the dryer is pure heaven.

3. Favorites From the Past. Because I've been too exhausted and ill to do anything energetic (or productive), I've been entertaining myself with lots and lots of movies. In selecting my films, I revisited several that I loved when they came out, but that I haven't seen in years. Watching Finding Forrester reminded me of how much Sean Connery rocks (and how creepy Anna Paquin is) and that writing is a sacred art, The Emperor's Club showed me that I view Kevin Kline in a very different, more comedic light than when I first saw it, and Peter Jackson's King Kong was still too long but lots of fun, even if Naomi Watts sad, soulful gazes do get tiring after a while.

4. Rogue Wave. Maybe I'm just missing Heroes, but I haven't been able to stop listening to their song "Eyes". With the right blend of lyric and music, nothing else has really been able to capture my mood and calm me like this. Even though it's not really what the song is about, the tone is perfectly bittersweet, and a great soundtrack to my longing for good health and a return to the norm.

5. Radiohead's In Rainbows. I have actually been addicted to this one for a while. Radiohead is almost always a top quality band, and their latest album is no exception. Thom Yorke's vocals are eerily compelling, and it's hard not to get lost in them. I'd highly, HIGHLY recommend getting the bonus disc version and then checking out "4 Minute Warning" and "Last Flowers", while my absolute favorite from the original disc is "House of Cards".

6. Essays and Poems by Emerson. R. W. Emerson has always been an inspiration to me, and going back and reading some of my favorite essays by him has been incredible. I don't know how he does it, but each and every line is packed with profound truth. His treatise on Self-Reliance is the most uplifting piece of writing on this earth, and after reading it you will never feel so confident in your life.

7. Freaks and Geeks. The internet in my apartment is even more haywire and tricky than the machines in the laundry room, but whenever I can get a signal I've been watching this sadly short-lived TV series. Set in the early eighties, this classic comedy focuses on two groups. First we have the "freaks", with ex-brainiac Lindsay Weir ingratiating herself into the presence of seasoned rock-loving stoners (none other than James Franco, Seth Rogen, and Jason Segal before they made it big). Next are the "geeks", with a trio of delightful socially awkward, Caddyshack quoting misfits who have seen Star Wars at least 27 times. I cannot even begin to describe the brilliance of this show. It has the best soundtrack ever (the theme song is "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett! Come on), and is full of moments that ARE your family, or your high school experience, but in ways where you can laugh at it. See it. You won't be sorry.

A warning about stepping outside your comfort zone

I'd like to apologize for not posting lately. Even though that's not too strange, considering that my blogging is pretty erratic, I'd like to offer an explanation. This spring I'm taking a Creative Writing class. You 'regulars' on this site know that I've struggled with reclaiming my creative spirit, and so I thought a class that forces me to write things that AREN'T analytic essays almost every day would help me in my endeavor. For the class I am required to keep a separate blog that I must post on three ... yep, a whole three... times a week. Because of that arduous task, my blogs on here will be getting less frequent, even though I will try and keep up on both. Trust me, in eight weeks that mockery of a blog will be gone and it will be Angst Muffins all the way. And as for the "other" blog, even though most of them are boring assignments, if you just can't get enough of my amazingly gifted word smithing, you can check me out at mandatorymusings.blogspot.com.

I guess my Creative Writing class is why I wanted to write. I just suffered through my first workshop today, where my classmates read and criticized a creative non-fiction essay I wrote. For my essay I went out on a limb and tried something new: writing something very personal and important to me. I wrote about the relationship between me and my mother, how we are so alike and yet different, and about the influence she has had in making me the person I am today. I found almost poetic language pouring out of me. I used sentences with more metaphor and imagery in an attempt to convey the weight I gave this subject. When I finished, pride (the good kind, not the sinful one) filled my heart as I looked upon something I had written that I truly considered beautiful.

In workshop, people were kind, praising those three sentences I too thought were the most worthy examples of excellent writing, commenting on how much I must love my mother, and commending me for writing about something so intimate. I was full of gratitude, because I had exposed myself in this piece, done something completely new to me, and I was nervous about seeing how it would be received. Things were going well, and then tragedy struck.

As I was rifling through the essays, I came upon one with this written at the bottom.


I was crushed. Even though I had read comment after comment praising my work, of course this is the phrase that stuck with me. How could someone grade my emotions as boring? They went on to say that as a writer, I had some "fictional leeway" that I wasn't taking advantage of. Well, I'm sorry anonymous idiot, but the assignment was a creative NON-fiction essay. Next time, I'll throw in some car-crashes and maybe a subplot about a diamond thief who falls in love with his arch-enemy. And I'll use really simple words so you can understand. Nothing over four letters. So just words like this one. JERK.

I'm a KRAKEN from the SEA!

Last Saturday was super chill.

My apartment had a little double birthday party for me and another roommate. My birthday is this week; hers is in May, but finals week is almost over and then everyone will be off to wherever they call home, not to return until fall, except for me of course, who will probably be going to school forever.

Anyway, lots of fun was had, including a German Chocolate cake (even though I am really the only one who likes coconut), presents, movie watching, pizza, and did I mention PRESENTS!?! I know they say it's better to give than receive, but I'm incredibly selfish and greedy. Deal with it.

Here is some of my free stuff. My roommates really do rock. Out loud. And by the way, the shirt says "Music is my boyfriend". I dig it.

The evening wasn't without it's awkward moments. After all, I did end up watching Juno, a hilarious movie about a pregnant teen, with three very Mormon girls. While they did laugh (try NOT laughing during Juno. She's quirky! It's great), there were a few parts where I knew they thought I was the vilest of sinners for watching and loving this film. My personal favorite happened when Juno is about to go into labor, and she says "Ow, ow, F***ity Ow!". It's quick, and the only F-bomb in the show, but I felt my room roommate stiffen on the other couch. I looked at her and she said what may or may not have been "Wow, I've never heard the F- word before". The look on my face must have been priceless, because she followed up with a snappy "But if you're OK with owning it...".

I don't think I've ever felt so guilty in my life. Mainly because I totally am OK with owning it.

No you're not hardcore

I hate writing about myself.

Yeah, I know, I'm dangerously flirting with that line I swore I'd never cross, the line where a blog becomes nothing but a giant dumping ground for all the things in life that suck out loud. But sometimes you just have to complain, have to discuss certain topics in a cosmic attempt to figure out what is going on in life.

I need to write a 6-page minimum "memoir" for my lit class. It's due Wednesday at 8 (which is why I can't go to the Ben Folds concert. I already begged my professor to let me hand in the stupid paper early and skip the required party at her house. She said no dice, and ignored me for the rest of the class). And even though it should be the EASIEST FINAL EVER, I cannot write a single word.

First, there is the obvious question of what to write about. For the rough draft we had to turn in a month ago, this was a slight problem. Since I really, REALLY hate writing about myself, I decided to highlight the time I met Cleveland, the documentary filmmaker/ jazz musician on the bus. That way, I could make it all about him with next to no information about my feelings, personality, or own experience. Sadly, my oh-so-clever professor saw through that ruse, and here I am at square one.

So what should I write about? My love for Halloween, the classic costumes of my past, and that strange recurring dream I had every October 30th until I was eight? Or the time I went skiing and one of my best friends got a head injury, leading to the scariest moment of my life? And what about when I went to Segofest and saw Castle Park for the first time, and I knew...just knew... that one day I would film a killer awesome scene from Shakespeare there. But each time I start elaborating on either of these topics, the cliches start flowing from my fingers, spewing forth a mess of stilted, unrealistic words that I look back on, wincing and trying unsuccessfully to keep from gagging at the kitschy garbage that is my writing.

There are several things I could blame for my aversion to autobiographies. It could be because I've simply gotten out of the practice. It might shock some of you, but I used to be a great creative writer. Short stories were my niche. But I am lazy, and after five or six years of schooling that has not required any creativity on my part, but rather the ability to write a cohesive and enthralling essay (which I do quite well. Have I ever told you about my Dracula paper? Great stuff), my whimsical story writing soul has disappeared. It could also be because I don't consider my life hardly ... lived yet. I'm still young, and the majority of my life is ahead of me, so why would I want to look back on the paltry bit that is behind me? But I think the real reason I hate writing about myself is because of my incredible vanity. It's true. I'm the most vain, self-centered person I know. And I really don't want any written proof of that in the world. No, seriously. I write things about myself, read them, and then think "Wow, that person is pretty lame. Let's never do the whole journaling thing again".

News Flash!

I really don't like people who say "SH!".

WAR IS OVER! (if you want it)

A brief look at three experiences/thoughts as to why pacifism rocks.

1. First, let's examine the title song. I love the Beatles, and when people ask me to choose a favorite, I am often at a loss for words. Ringo is the adorable underdog, George is the quiet, tortured genius, and Paul is the cute one who did the most consistently good work post- breakup. And then we have John. John, the edgy rebel with the razor sharp wit and the high ideals. Sometimes I hate him (mainly when he's under the influence of Yoko), but for the most part he fascinates me. His songs with the Beatles were usually my favorite, for their wry, clever lyrics and pure rockin' out-ness. After they split, his songs were hit and miss, but there were a few gems. When he stuck to real music with real messages, and wasn't just trying to be all avant-garde with primal screaming and loops, he could write. And his anti-war sentiment rang true.



2. If there is one thing I hate, it's admitting I'm wrong. But in this case, I have to. In my first post, I declared Dada as the worst, most nonsensical art form ever. I now go on the record to say that just isn't true. I simply didn't understand the reasoning behind it. Now that I do, it blows my mind. First off, Dadaists were not the self-indulgent, lazy, pretentious free-loaders I always thought they were. For one, they were completely pessimistic (something I can relate to ). Stuck in the midst of the worst wars humanity had ever seen, purveyors of Dada were looking back throughout history and weeping, seeing that despite thousands of years of experience civilization had learned absolutely nothing. All the academics in the world, with all their elaborate thought processes and theories, had been unable to stop the slaughter occurring on a worldwide scale. The only conclusion: if reason couldn't solve anything, perhaps chaos could. Thus, Dada embraced the random, the mundane, the chaotic. Their works were 'anti-art', anti-establishment at its first and finest hour. With their oddities, Dadaists were giving the nonsensical world around them the finger, and trying to find peace and harmony from the things that were overlooked, thinking the ignored items and ideas could possibly hold the key to perfection.



3. I am taking the most kick AWESOME class in the entire world this semester: Shakespeare and Film. My professor is amazing (and my idol. I want to be her), the topic is fascinating, and the people in the class itself are hilarious and freaking geniuses. Anyway, before my love letter gets more verbose, back to the point of the story. For class this week, I had to watch the Kenneth Branagh version of Henry V. The one problem with that was I usually hate Kenneth Branagh with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I find him pompous, overrated, and quite frankly, a worthless specimen. But that all changed upon viewing Henry V. An amazing quintessential war flick, everyone MUST SEE this movie. That is not a request. That is an order. With a talented cast featuring a young Christian Bale, Ian Holm, Dame Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi in a scene stealing role as Chorus, and the superb Emma Thompson who, in my opinion, can do no wrong, it would be a sin to skip seeing this. Branagh actually plays a very sympathetic King Henry, with you hating his actions one second and then irrevocably loving him the next. The monologues are played perfectly, and will have you on the edge of your seat, rapt with British patriotism, regardless of your nationality. But what is easily the best part of the film is the battle itself, and the immediate aftermath thereof. It's rousing, heart-breaking, and tear inducing all at once, plus it has the capability to make anyone an instant pacifist. It is cinematic beauty. I walked into this movie skeptical and walked out a firm believer. If that isn't a sign of a fantastic film, I don't know what is.