I guess three years was a good run...
I keep saying I'm going to go back to eating meat. But, I just can't bring myself to do it. I have a concern that my body might have a reaction to flesh for the first time. You know, it has been three years since I enjoyed my last piece of animal carcass and I am concerned that by re-introducing my stomach to meat, it will be like, "WTF?" and eject that stuff with a heavy dose of diarrhea real quick. I don't know if that would actually happen and if it's worthy of such a worry but nevertheless, I'm apprehensive. Therefore, I always say I'll wait until the weekend when I'm off from work so I can eat and take a sudden massive dump if need be without having to worry about crapping on the carpet in front of customers.
"This weekend, I'm going to do it," I say. Yet, I never do.
I guess it's just because I haven't made peace with eating meat again. For so long, I was steadfast in my vegetarianism, but it was easier when I was living in Savannah. I wasn't eating so much crap and had healthier meat alternatives. Now, things have changed. It's much harder here. I'm so fat and unhealthy and miserable. Yet, I don't want to change. Well, I do want to change but I don't want to have to eat meat to do it. I also don't want to have to eat vegetables. Basically, I want to have my vegan cake and eat it, too. You know, without it making me fat. Not gonna happen.
So, I'm going to have to make some compromises. Try to choke down some spinach along with my salmon. It will be tough on both fronts but I'll have to push myself out of this pudginess. I just feel really bad about the whole situation. I suppose you really realize how much you do (or don't) believe in something when faced with obstacles that hinder your own well-being. Really, my vegetarianism doesn't have to be as hard as I make it. Eat more vegetables. Eat nuts and peanut butter for protein. Tofu can taste like anything. But, for me, I hate almost all vegetables and nuts and peanut butter get old after a while and so do Tofurkey sandwiches. I'm also not crazy about tofu. Basically, I'm bored with my diet and I'm getting tired of it. There's hardly any vegetarian friendly choices at restaurants (unless, once again, you like salads and vegetables) and no choices at all at fast food establishments. The black box closes in again.
If I really felt strong in my convictions I would force myself to eat leafy greens and tomatoes and carrots but the thought makes me sick. I have tried these foods and I can't deal with them. I know taste is an immature response to not eating healthy foods but that's my reasoning and that's just how it is. Instead, I'll be selfish and make it easier on myself an grab a chicken sandwich from a fast food joint and shrimp at a restaurant. It's just that, I have so many issues with food as it is. I have an unhealthy relationship with food. I use food as a comfort, therefore if I'm not eating food that I enjoy, there is no comfort. And where there is no comfort, there is more agony for me to take on, something that I am not sure I could handle at this point in my life. It's more complex than that but hopefully you get the gist of it. It's not as simple as green food is gross. It's about what kinds of foods are going to help me from going off the deep end. The other alternative is to just get fat and be gross and lethargic for the rest of my life, all in the name of not supporting the slaughter of animals for human consumption. Or, I could just eat them and be done with it. As much as I want to be an animal advocate, when it comes to me and my weight versus animals and their suffering, I'll choose me every time.
And I guess that's the sad part about it. How can people take me and my animal advocacy seriously when I eat the animals I want to stand up for and give a voice to? I'll just be another hypocrite. But, aren't we all to some degree? It's kind of amazing and frustrating how humans operate sometimes. Our actions are often contradictory and I think that's a part of the reason why we are so complex- or screwed up- however you want to look at it. We think one thing, say another and end up doing something else entirely.
One of the nice things about living in the country is the privilege of seeing cows grazing in pastures on my way to and from work. We even have some that live outside our backyard. They are really beautiful, peaceful creatures when you watch them just hanging out and eating and lying in the sun. It always makes me sad to see them and think that one of those calves out there running with their friends or family might one day end up being my dinner. From playing in a pasture to pâté on my plate. I shudder at the thought.
Animals are born into agony only to die brutally just so humans can wear their skins for decoration or eat their flesh, all without a second thought to what they once were. It all seems like such a waste of life to be put down and squashed so easily, so callously. We take their lives for granted. No appreciation, just gratification. It feels like a lot of people don't take the time out to think about where their food comes from or how it came to be that way. We see the sterilized breaded chicken bits in a bag or even the ground beef, pink and wrapped up and ready to eat with no semblance of what it once looked like and it makes it easier to swallow those hamburgers and to eat those chicken fingers. As I've stated before, it's not that I'm even entirely opposed to killing animals for food. I just don't like the way they go about it, causing unnecessary suffering. I guess I just wish more people took the time out to appreciate the life that was taken so they could be comfortable.
Sometimes I feel silly even writing about these kinds of things. Some people probably don't give eating meat a second thought and I literally go days and days thinking about it, worrying about it, debating what I should do. I probably won't write about this much more, either. I mean, I'm no longer a vegetarian and I've already posted about my journey several times so there's really nothing more to say and no reason to re-hash anything, unless it's to say, "Had a tuna fish sandwich today. Hate myself. Thanks for reading."
I'm not going to completely give up vegetarianism. I'll try to keep my meat consumption limited. I'm going to try to avoid beef and pork. I don't guess there's really any reasoning for picking one animal over another except chicken and fish is a bit healthier. Remember, I decided to start eating meat again for health reasons (but mostly because of my weight). I want to always keep that in mind. I didn't just flippantly decided to devour flesh again.
As I said, things have changed. Although I'm going back to eating meat, I feel guilty about it. I probably always will. After being a vegetarian for so long, it feels natural to have an aversion to meat and skip over eateries that I know don't have anything I can have and passing by various meats in the grocery store and not thinking too hard about it or missing it all that much. Now, I can have those things. I am no longer limited in that aspect. It's almost liberating, although not so much for the animals.
Friday, I ordered a pizza from Mellow Mushroom, the most amazing pizza place I've ever had the pleasure of going to. I ordered a favorite of mine from my pre-vegetarian days: the Funky Q chicken, consisting of barbecue sauce, cheddar cheese, grilled chicken and Applewood-smoked bacon. Up until the very second I got on the phone with the lady I ordered it from, I was hesitant. As I stated earlier, I kept saying I'd do it but I could never bring myself to venture into that territory. As she asked me what I wanted, I blurted it out and that was that. There was no going back or changing my order. I was going to eat meat again after three years.
I brought it home, opened it up and took out a few slices and started eating. I psyched myself up by just saying I was going to do it. I wasn't going to think about it or feel guilty or hate myself. Of course, that would come later, as it always does when I overindulge with pizza or anything other "naughty" food. The meat part would just be a bonus bout of self-hatred for me to endure. And I did it. I ate a few slices and didn't think about it and I was no longer a vegetarian.
It was delicious.
I think that I'll always carry some guilt with me about this. I'll always feel a bit conflicted. But, I'm kind of used to it. I feel conflicted about so many aspects of my life and guilt is something that usually comes along with that because I feel like I never make the right choices. I'm always messing up something, feeling inadequate and useless. So, we'll just add one more thing to the pile and hope I don't crack under the weight of it all.
Finished off the pizza today. Hate myself. Thanks for reading.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
black box
"How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or even seen anybody die? A girl I knew had just won a prize for a short story about her adventures among the pygmies in Africa. How could I compete with that sort of thing?"
-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
I've realized that my life has always been limited in one way or another. My parents limited my world by never taking me anywhere. I limited myself socially by never going anywhere. I sat at home and ate and got fat, which ruined my confidence. The lack of confidence caused me to run away from people and their judgments. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't party. I don't eat meat. I don't eat vegetables. I don't swear (much). I don't have sex (with others). I'm from a small town, thus nowhere to go and nothing to do. I don't have a girlfriend. I don't have a best friend. I only have acquaintances and they have already moved on to other locations. I work a stifling job and am forced to interact with stifling people. I don't socialize or metabolize. I simply fill a slot on this earth.
It's the world that grabs me by its mechanical hand and puts me in the shower, puts me in my job, puts me in the seat of my chair, puts me in front of people and forces me to open my mouth and speak. I don't go willingly. My will is in my bed. It's in a good book. It's in sleep and food and the small part of my brain unaffected by cynicism and disease. It wriggles its way into the tucked away part that can still fathom hope and what happiness might feel like one day.
I am limited. My life situation limited me. My parents/friends/enemies limited me. I limited myself. I'm trapped in my own black box and everyone has had a hand in constructing it. And it's devastating as a writer and as a person to feel so enclosed.
I've joked that I should fall in love and break someone's heart or have my heart broken just to have a story to write. I say that I should get drunk just to see what it feels like or do something naughty to feel the thrill of breaking rules, engage in behavior that forces the blood to rush faster, the heart to beat faster, the surge of excitement and adrenaline. I should travel and meet and kiss people and give and take and be a real person. Or at least emulate a real person. I'd like to think the benefits would be two-fold: I'd have personal experience and material for stories.
The great obstacle is actually obtaining that experience. I've developed a Stockholm Syndrome of sorts from being locked inside this black box. It's suffocating and soothing all at the same time because I don't know any different. I know that I don't like it but I also know that I have a fear of what else is out there. I'm terrified of the outside world. I'm terrified of the experience because I might not like what I find outside my uncomfortably comfortable box. I'm terrified that I might not be good enough for the world, that I might not be good enough for the people of the world. I peer through the cracks of the black box but the world outside is too bright and daunting so I shrink back into the blackness.
I've heard some say "write what you know" and while I am ambivalent toward that sentiment (I've heard pros and cons of writing from knowledge versus having fun and making it up as you go) I can't even follow that advice because I don't know much of anything. I know about food. I know about...hm...sleeping. I know about being lazy and watching television. And unless I can turn the topic of sloth into a success in both life and the written word, I don't think I'll get very far.
Ah, it's that good old fear, driving me further into the corner of my black box, insisting I stay where I'm miserable yet familiar with the feeling of darkness and hopelessness. How is it possible to overcome this fear? How can you take a stand against something that feels as natural as the flesh that wraps around your bones? How is it possible to shake off a force that has been your only source of constant presence (albeit unwanted) for nearly your entire life? That is the great question. I fear the insurmountable answer.
-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
I've realized that my life has always been limited in one way or another. My parents limited my world by never taking me anywhere. I limited myself socially by never going anywhere. I sat at home and ate and got fat, which ruined my confidence. The lack of confidence caused me to run away from people and their judgments. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't party. I don't eat meat. I don't eat vegetables. I don't swear (much). I don't have sex (with others). I'm from a small town, thus nowhere to go and nothing to do. I don't have a girlfriend. I don't have a best friend. I only have acquaintances and they have already moved on to other locations. I work a stifling job and am forced to interact with stifling people. I don't socialize or metabolize. I simply fill a slot on this earth.
It's the world that grabs me by its mechanical hand and puts me in the shower, puts me in my job, puts me in the seat of my chair, puts me in front of people and forces me to open my mouth and speak. I don't go willingly. My will is in my bed. It's in a good book. It's in sleep and food and the small part of my brain unaffected by cynicism and disease. It wriggles its way into the tucked away part that can still fathom hope and what happiness might feel like one day.
I am limited. My life situation limited me. My parents/friends/enemies limited me. I limited myself. I'm trapped in my own black box and everyone has had a hand in constructing it. And it's devastating as a writer and as a person to feel so enclosed.
I've joked that I should fall in love and break someone's heart or have my heart broken just to have a story to write. I say that I should get drunk just to see what it feels like or do something naughty to feel the thrill of breaking rules, engage in behavior that forces the blood to rush faster, the heart to beat faster, the surge of excitement and adrenaline. I should travel and meet and kiss people and give and take and be a real person. Or at least emulate a real person. I'd like to think the benefits would be two-fold: I'd have personal experience and material for stories.
The great obstacle is actually obtaining that experience. I've developed a Stockholm Syndrome of sorts from being locked inside this black box. It's suffocating and soothing all at the same time because I don't know any different. I know that I don't like it but I also know that I have a fear of what else is out there. I'm terrified of the outside world. I'm terrified of the experience because I might not like what I find outside my uncomfortably comfortable box. I'm terrified that I might not be good enough for the world, that I might not be good enough for the people of the world. I peer through the cracks of the black box but the world outside is too bright and daunting so I shrink back into the blackness.
I've heard some say "write what you know" and while I am ambivalent toward that sentiment (I've heard pros and cons of writing from knowledge versus having fun and making it up as you go) I can't even follow that advice because I don't know much of anything. I know about food. I know about...hm...sleeping. I know about being lazy and watching television. And unless I can turn the topic of sloth into a success in both life and the written word, I don't think I'll get very far.
Ah, it's that good old fear, driving me further into the corner of my black box, insisting I stay where I'm miserable yet familiar with the feeling of darkness and hopelessness. How is it possible to overcome this fear? How can you take a stand against something that feels as natural as the flesh that wraps around your bones? How is it possible to shake off a force that has been your only source of constant presence (albeit unwanted) for nearly your entire life? That is the great question. I fear the insurmountable answer.
Friday, March 11, 2011
dismantle
I didn't even realize how long I was gone...
I have been numbing myself with sleep and food and television and books. I have some huge problems in my life and I have simply ignored them in favor of garbage. Food garbage, television garbage and sleep steeped in bizarre, unsettling dreams.
I hate my job more and more and people more and more and myself more and more. I honestly don't know how much longer I can do this.
I am trying to tell you that I am horrible and I don't think I've fully convinced anyone.
But, you don't really know me. You know what you read and you get my side of the story but there is so much rage and hatred inside of me that you would probably puke if you only knew half the truth.
So, from this point on I will dismantle the good guy image I have built up for myself for the majority of my life. That's not me anymore. I don't think it was ever me at all. I am falling away from myself and discovering something darker.
Nothing makes sense anymore: God and gluttony. Food and family. Sex and death. Flesh and flowers. Love. I will take these topics and pick them apart until I am satisfied that I have sufficiently resolved my hesitation and confusion with them and I will hopefully find some semblance of peace with my conclusions. Or I'll only find more madness.
Either way, I'll be working toward something, which is more than I can say for myself lately.
I have been numbing myself with sleep and food and television and books. I have some huge problems in my life and I have simply ignored them in favor of garbage. Food garbage, television garbage and sleep steeped in bizarre, unsettling dreams.
I hate my job more and more and people more and more and myself more and more. I honestly don't know how much longer I can do this.
I am trying to tell you that I am horrible and I don't think I've fully convinced anyone.
But, you don't really know me. You know what you read and you get my side of the story but there is so much rage and hatred inside of me that you would probably puke if you only knew half the truth.
So, from this point on I will dismantle the good guy image I have built up for myself for the majority of my life. That's not me anymore. I don't think it was ever me at all. I am falling away from myself and discovering something darker.
Nothing makes sense anymore: God and gluttony. Food and family. Sex and death. Flesh and flowers. Love. I will take these topics and pick them apart until I am satisfied that I have sufficiently resolved my hesitation and confusion with them and I will hopefully find some semblance of peace with my conclusions. Or I'll only find more madness.
Either way, I'll be working toward something, which is more than I can say for myself lately.
Monday, February 7, 2011
retail results
I've been freaking out for quite some time over whether or not I should take the promotion at work. As if my current craziness wasn't exhausting enough, I had to deepen my indecisiveness by pitting the pros and cons up against each other as if my very soul rested upon the results. I just wasn't sure. Yes, there seemed like some good aspects to the new position, like more money, less work, more hours. There were also a few bad things, like more responsibility, answering to the store manager and more hours. Yeah, I know, more hours should just be a good thing but seeing as how I hate working there, the less hours I have, the better. Plus, I need to free up as much time as I can so I can "work" on my writing and animating. And, thinking of the future, having a supervisor position would look good on my resume. Of course, the more money part was the best part. Yet, I was still hesitant.
As far as I knew, there were only three applicants: me, another associate well suited for the position and another who is barely suitable for existence. So, it was really just me and the other girl. And honestly, I was pretty sure I was more capable than she was. Not bragging, just keeping it one hundred. So, it was really just me and her. But, really, I thought it was just going to be me. I had almost hoped he'd give the job to her just so I wouldn't have to make the agonizing decision of accepting or declining. It would be out of my hands and I wouldn't have to worry about being wrong or right, about screwing up my life even more. At the same time, I knew whatever was going to happen, I'd be pretty disappointed. If I didn't get it, I'd be stuck with less pay and more work. If I did, then I might hate it.
So, I asked for a sign, some definitive answer to let me know if I should take the job or not. Did I want this? Could I handle this? Would this turn into another barback catastrophe? And I didn't want some puny sign, something that could be written off as a minor coincidence or something I could explain away easily. It's almost like when you're looking for something, you'll find it. You'll notice the smallest, stupidest thing and twist it to relate to your situation. I didn't want that. I didn't need any more hesitation. I didn't need to be indecisive about a sign to help me with my indecisiveness! I needed a clear yes or no, not a wishy-washy eh.
The next morning, I went to work like usual, only to come upon a bevy of police cars parked along the road of my work location. They were blocking my usual route so I had to go the long way around to get to the parking lot. As I passed, I noticed there was an accident of some sort. A mangled white car was on the side of the road. Many of my coworkers were out there looking. At first, I thought they were just morbidly curious. As I walked toward the building, one of the associates yelled to me that one of the ones in the crash was one of our coworkers.
Specifically, my competition.
My eyes bulged as I ran to the one yelling and asked if she was okay. Thankfully, she was fine but shaken up. Was this the sign I had asked for the previous night? Was I responsible for her totaled car and frazzled faculties? Was this my answer and if so, was it the loud and clear yes or was it possibly a resounding no? I didn't know how to interpret these unfolding events. Was this my competition being eliminated or was this telling me that she definitely needs this job now because her car is entirely destroyed? As if my nerves weren't already spiked with electricity, it felt like they were being fried from the inside.
I explained this to a coworker later in the day and she assured me I shouldn't be concerned about it. It made me feel only slightly better. I talked myself through it for the rest of the day. After giving it extremely careful thought, I came to a conclusion. I knew what I wanted to do.
Right before my shift ended, the store manager called me into his office. This was it. He was going to tell me I got it. I took a deep breath. He told me after very careful consideration, he gave the job to someone else, someone I didn't even know had applied for it. The reason? Although she had only been there three months, she had more than ten years of retail experience overall, as opposed to my four years. And that was that. Although I worked my butt off there for the two years I was in college and worked twice as hard in the six months since returning, I suppose performance doesn't matter much when you can just say you've been in the game longer. I've also been wiping my butt hole for the past twenty-something years while this lady has been wiping hers for the past fifty-something but does that really mean that she can wipe her butt better than I? I was slightly blindsided by the surprise applicant and after I heard of my rejection, I tuned out the rest of his droning to process what he had just said. I was calm. I was okay. And it was done.
And naturally, just like I had mentioned, after it all sank in, I was pretty disappointed, slightly angry. And the more I think about the manager's reason for hiring this lady over me or the car crash girl, it irks me. But, what can I do? What's done is done and I'm stuck being their little peon. He did mention that I was an asset to the company, as if it was some kind of consolation prize. He inferred that I got "second place" for the job, so I guess he thought he'd slip that right on in there to make me feel better.
But that doesn't make me feel better at all.
Because I was going to accept.
As far as I knew, there were only three applicants: me, another associate well suited for the position and another who is barely suitable for existence. So, it was really just me and the other girl. And honestly, I was pretty sure I was more capable than she was. Not bragging, just keeping it one hundred. So, it was really just me and her. But, really, I thought it was just going to be me. I had almost hoped he'd give the job to her just so I wouldn't have to make the agonizing decision of accepting or declining. It would be out of my hands and I wouldn't have to worry about being wrong or right, about screwing up my life even more. At the same time, I knew whatever was going to happen, I'd be pretty disappointed. If I didn't get it, I'd be stuck with less pay and more work. If I did, then I might hate it.
So, I asked for a sign, some definitive answer to let me know if I should take the job or not. Did I want this? Could I handle this? Would this turn into another barback catastrophe? And I didn't want some puny sign, something that could be written off as a minor coincidence or something I could explain away easily. It's almost like when you're looking for something, you'll find it. You'll notice the smallest, stupidest thing and twist it to relate to your situation. I didn't want that. I didn't need any more hesitation. I didn't need to be indecisive about a sign to help me with my indecisiveness! I needed a clear yes or no, not a wishy-washy eh.
The next morning, I went to work like usual, only to come upon a bevy of police cars parked along the road of my work location. They were blocking my usual route so I had to go the long way around to get to the parking lot. As I passed, I noticed there was an accident of some sort. A mangled white car was on the side of the road. Many of my coworkers were out there looking. At first, I thought they were just morbidly curious. As I walked toward the building, one of the associates yelled to me that one of the ones in the crash was one of our coworkers.
Specifically, my competition.
My eyes bulged as I ran to the one yelling and asked if she was okay. Thankfully, she was fine but shaken up. Was this the sign I had asked for the previous night? Was I responsible for her totaled car and frazzled faculties? Was this my answer and if so, was it the loud and clear yes or was it possibly a resounding no? I didn't know how to interpret these unfolding events. Was this my competition being eliminated or was this telling me that she definitely needs this job now because her car is entirely destroyed? As if my nerves weren't already spiked with electricity, it felt like they were being fried from the inside.
I explained this to a coworker later in the day and she assured me I shouldn't be concerned about it. It made me feel only slightly better. I talked myself through it for the rest of the day. After giving it extremely careful thought, I came to a conclusion. I knew what I wanted to do.
Right before my shift ended, the store manager called me into his office. This was it. He was going to tell me I got it. I took a deep breath. He told me after very careful consideration, he gave the job to someone else, someone I didn't even know had applied for it. The reason? Although she had only been there three months, she had more than ten years of retail experience overall, as opposed to my four years. And that was that. Although I worked my butt off there for the two years I was in college and worked twice as hard in the six months since returning, I suppose performance doesn't matter much when you can just say you've been in the game longer. I've also been wiping my butt hole for the past twenty-something years while this lady has been wiping hers for the past fifty-something but does that really mean that she can wipe her butt better than I? I was slightly blindsided by the surprise applicant and after I heard of my rejection, I tuned out the rest of his droning to process what he had just said. I was calm. I was okay. And it was done.
And naturally, just like I had mentioned, after it all sank in, I was pretty disappointed, slightly angry. And the more I think about the manager's reason for hiring this lady over me or the car crash girl, it irks me. But, what can I do? What's done is done and I'm stuck being their little peon. He did mention that I was an asset to the company, as if it was some kind of consolation prize. He inferred that I got "second place" for the job, so I guess he thought he'd slip that right on in there to make me feel better.
But that doesn't make me feel better at all.
Because I was going to accept.
Friday, February 4, 2011
animation notes #1
I'm pretty baffled.
I've been inconsistently sitting down and trying to figure out how to use these animation programs. The software came with five disks and no instructions. Awesome. So, I've been purchasing books and watching tutorials and reading message boards in hopes of figuring out how to work all of this stuff but nothing has totally helped me. I can understand bits and pieces here and there and I can almost put all the information together into something cohesive and understandable but not quite. I feel like I'm almost there but all the information I've read just kind of glosses over the basics and never really applies the instructions to actual animation. It's pretty frustrating.
As I've mentioned, everything I used in college has been upgraded at least twice in the year since I've graduated. I don't want to say everything I learned was obsolete but it's definitely a lot slower of a process than what the new technology is capable of. Unfortunately, I just don't know how to use the new technology! Just to give you a small lesson in animation, it takes approximately (depending on your frame rate) twenty-four frames to make one second of animation. That's twenty-four drawings. Not only that but the drawings usually need to be cleaned up/inked and then filled in with color. So, you're basically creating a picture in three phases. So, that equates to seventy-two images for one second of animation. Now, image doing a two or three minute short animation. It might not seem long but when you take into account the drawing, clean up and simple color fill (not including shading and/or highlighting), it can take weeks or months just to make that seemingly simple two minutes. Drawing every frame by hand is called frame by frame animation. That's what I did for my senior film.
Well, there's a new thing in Adobe Flash called symbols that can increase productivity. You basically draw a shape that you want to animate, turn it into a symbol, and then you can work with that one shape instead of having to redraw it fifteen hundred times. Sounds great but I don't know how to do it. I mean, I do, but it gets complicated when you try to organize your symbols into libraries and then you can do symbols inside of symbols and you can even do movie clips inside of symbols if I'm not mistaken. It's like a hierarchy of symbols and I don't know how to construct it correctly.
So, I sit here and sort through my books and try to to go to the software website and look up stuff on YouTube but nothing really has what I'm looking after and I'm kind of stuck. I suppose I could do frame by frame animation but it could take me forever to produce something. But, I actually prefer frame by frame animation. I like the idea of putting all of myself into animating. I've always been a bigger fan of traditional 2D animation, where you put your pencil to paper and often times literally put your blood, sweat and tears into the thing. I know I've often sweated over a deadline, got misty when frustrated and even gave myself a paper cut or two in the process. You put your all into it. I think it's a bit more personal than 3D animation where you point and click. Now, let me say, I am not against 3D animation at all. In fact, I think it has come a long way and is amazing it its own way. I would even like to do 3D animation in the future. But, as of right now, I prefer 2D. But, since it would be more economical for me to do my 2D on a computer, I'm not getting the full feel of traditional animation by paper. Still, doing this frame by frame is as close as I can get and I'm okay with that. It will just take forever.
One of the cons of frame by frame animation is the tendency to lose the shape of the character after a while. You get so caught up in trying to move the thing that it might start to grow or shrink as you get far into animating. With symbols, however, you don't lose the shape because you're working with the one image over several frames. But, there's a certain look to symbols that you might not be able to achieve with hand drawn animation.
I guess I'll just have to compromise. I don't have all the free time in the world to create a cartoon just however I want. There are many things to consider. I'd love to create an actual cartoon series that would run almost the same amount of length as a cartoon you'd see on television, which is about twenty-something minutes, sans commercials. Imagine doing a twenty minute cartoon and doing around ten episodes of that cartoon. That's about fourteen thousand images right there. No small feat. I might finish by the time I'm thirty. Plus, I'd have no time to work on other projects for myself or others. I definitely don't want to be doing that, though. So, it seems symbols might speed up the process. I just need to find out how to use them! I might just have to do frame by frame for now until I can find out how to do the other because while I'm trying to learn one thing, I'm doing nothing.
I guess we'll see what I can come up with...eventually.
I've been inconsistently sitting down and trying to figure out how to use these animation programs. The software came with five disks and no instructions. Awesome. So, I've been purchasing books and watching tutorials and reading message boards in hopes of figuring out how to work all of this stuff but nothing has totally helped me. I can understand bits and pieces here and there and I can almost put all the information together into something cohesive and understandable but not quite. I feel like I'm almost there but all the information I've read just kind of glosses over the basics and never really applies the instructions to actual animation. It's pretty frustrating.
As I've mentioned, everything I used in college has been upgraded at least twice in the year since I've graduated. I don't want to say everything I learned was obsolete but it's definitely a lot slower of a process than what the new technology is capable of. Unfortunately, I just don't know how to use the new technology! Just to give you a small lesson in animation, it takes approximately (depending on your frame rate) twenty-four frames to make one second of animation. That's twenty-four drawings. Not only that but the drawings usually need to be cleaned up/inked and then filled in with color. So, you're basically creating a picture in three phases. So, that equates to seventy-two images for one second of animation. Now, image doing a two or three minute short animation. It might not seem long but when you take into account the drawing, clean up and simple color fill (not including shading and/or highlighting), it can take weeks or months just to make that seemingly simple two minutes. Drawing every frame by hand is called frame by frame animation. That's what I did for my senior film.
Well, there's a new thing in Adobe Flash called symbols that can increase productivity. You basically draw a shape that you want to animate, turn it into a symbol, and then you can work with that one shape instead of having to redraw it fifteen hundred times. Sounds great but I don't know how to do it. I mean, I do, but it gets complicated when you try to organize your symbols into libraries and then you can do symbols inside of symbols and you can even do movie clips inside of symbols if I'm not mistaken. It's like a hierarchy of symbols and I don't know how to construct it correctly.
So, I sit here and sort through my books and try to to go to the software website and look up stuff on YouTube but nothing really has what I'm looking after and I'm kind of stuck. I suppose I could do frame by frame animation but it could take me forever to produce something. But, I actually prefer frame by frame animation. I like the idea of putting all of myself into animating. I've always been a bigger fan of traditional 2D animation, where you put your pencil to paper and often times literally put your blood, sweat and tears into the thing. I know I've often sweated over a deadline, got misty when frustrated and even gave myself a paper cut or two in the process. You put your all into it. I think it's a bit more personal than 3D animation where you point and click. Now, let me say, I am not against 3D animation at all. In fact, I think it has come a long way and is amazing it its own way. I would even like to do 3D animation in the future. But, as of right now, I prefer 2D. But, since it would be more economical for me to do my 2D on a computer, I'm not getting the full feel of traditional animation by paper. Still, doing this frame by frame is as close as I can get and I'm okay with that. It will just take forever.
One of the cons of frame by frame animation is the tendency to lose the shape of the character after a while. You get so caught up in trying to move the thing that it might start to grow or shrink as you get far into animating. With symbols, however, you don't lose the shape because you're working with the one image over several frames. But, there's a certain look to symbols that you might not be able to achieve with hand drawn animation.
I guess I'll just have to compromise. I don't have all the free time in the world to create a cartoon just however I want. There are many things to consider. I'd love to create an actual cartoon series that would run almost the same amount of length as a cartoon you'd see on television, which is about twenty-something minutes, sans commercials. Imagine doing a twenty minute cartoon and doing around ten episodes of that cartoon. That's about fourteen thousand images right there. No small feat. I might finish by the time I'm thirty. Plus, I'd have no time to work on other projects for myself or others. I definitely don't want to be doing that, though. So, it seems symbols might speed up the process. I just need to find out how to use them! I might just have to do frame by frame for now until I can find out how to do the other because while I'm trying to learn one thing, I'm doing nothing.
I guess we'll see what I can come up with...eventually.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
ruminating retail
There's a supervisor position opening at my work and I don't know if I should take it. One of my coworkers told me about it and seems pretty adamant that I apply for it. It sounds pretty good on paper except I would have to open and close the store, which means getting up earlier and staying at the store later. I know that sounds really petty but I hate getting up early in the morning. I can barely wake up and get to the store at my appointed time now. Plus, if I'm the only supervisor there, I would be the one the associates would call if they have a question or a problem with a customer. I'm not sure if I'm ready to handle that responsibility. I have to call the current supervisors quite often myself. Especially when I have an angry customer. I just let the supervisor deal with it so I won't have to. But, if I become supervisor, I'll have to.
Plus, I'll have keys and codes that I'll have to keep track of. More responsibility. I'm not sure if I can handle it. I kind of already feel stressed out enough. I'm basically in charge of my department now but because I'm an associate, there's a slight buffer zone of responsibility where I can ask for help and/or let someone else take care of a certain situation. If I become a supervisor, it'll all be on me.
I also don't want to be so tied down to the place. Being a peon associate, I kind of feel like I can come and go pretty easily. I show up and do my job and leave. There's no extra paperwork or scheduling to do. I just fold some shirts and get the heck up out of there. I just wonder how all the extra hours will affect my ability to work on my animations. I also wonder how it will affect my ability to leave if I ever did get an internship. I hoped they would let me off for as long as the internship lasted and then would let me back when it was over (if the internship didn't lead to any job opportunities). Being an associate, I don't think it would be much of a problem. But, being a supervisor, that probably wouldn't work out so well.
But then again, what if I don't get a better job or an internship any time soon or at all? I would hate to miss this opportunity, as this will probably be the last opportunity for a long while. There really is no option for advancement as everyone has been at this job for most of their lives. Seriously. These people have been locked into their positions since for over forty years. For some, this has been there one and only job the whole time. So, this is an extremely rare opportunity for advancement and for a pay raise, which I need desperately. But, I've heard conflicting wage amounts. Some say it won't be much more (which I don't see being worth pursuing) and others say it will be a lot more (which would be worth pursuing) so I don't know what to do.
I kind of like the idea of being a supervisor. I like the idea of the associates being happy that I'm working with them instead of some other supervisors. I know I dread working with some and enjoy working with others so I'd like to be that supervisor people enjoy working with. It would make me feel good. I just worry I might not be stern enough when it comes time to discipline someone who might not be doing what they are supposed to. I am pretty non-confrontational.
Then again, having supervisory experience would look good on my resume when I apply for a different job.
There's good and there's bad to this position. I just can't figure out which one weighs more.
I don't want to screw up and take the position and then hate it and either be stuck there or embarrassed by having to revert back to my old position. I also don't want to miss this opportunity for advancement and regret it.
I have to hand in my application by Thursday. Not much time to make a decision.
Plus, I'll have keys and codes that I'll have to keep track of. More responsibility. I'm not sure if I can handle it. I kind of already feel stressed out enough. I'm basically in charge of my department now but because I'm an associate, there's a slight buffer zone of responsibility where I can ask for help and/or let someone else take care of a certain situation. If I become a supervisor, it'll all be on me.
I also don't want to be so tied down to the place. Being a peon associate, I kind of feel like I can come and go pretty easily. I show up and do my job and leave. There's no extra paperwork or scheduling to do. I just fold some shirts and get the heck up out of there. I just wonder how all the extra hours will affect my ability to work on my animations. I also wonder how it will affect my ability to leave if I ever did get an internship. I hoped they would let me off for as long as the internship lasted and then would let me back when it was over (if the internship didn't lead to any job opportunities). Being an associate, I don't think it would be much of a problem. But, being a supervisor, that probably wouldn't work out so well.
But then again, what if I don't get a better job or an internship any time soon or at all? I would hate to miss this opportunity, as this will probably be the last opportunity for a long while. There really is no option for advancement as everyone has been at this job for most of their lives. Seriously. These people have been locked into their positions since for over forty years. For some, this has been there one and only job the whole time. So, this is an extremely rare opportunity for advancement and for a pay raise, which I need desperately. But, I've heard conflicting wage amounts. Some say it won't be much more (which I don't see being worth pursuing) and others say it will be a lot more (which would be worth pursuing) so I don't know what to do.
I kind of like the idea of being a supervisor. I like the idea of the associates being happy that I'm working with them instead of some other supervisors. I know I dread working with some and enjoy working with others so I'd like to be that supervisor people enjoy working with. It would make me feel good. I just worry I might not be stern enough when it comes time to discipline someone who might not be doing what they are supposed to. I am pretty non-confrontational.
Then again, having supervisory experience would look good on my resume when I apply for a different job.
There's good and there's bad to this position. I just can't figure out which one weighs more.
I don't want to screw up and take the position and then hate it and either be stuck there or embarrassed by having to revert back to my old position. I also don't want to miss this opportunity for advancement and regret it.
I have to hand in my application by Thursday. Not much time to make a decision.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
cadaverous cusp
This is what it feels like to be dead, y'all.
January glazed over me like I had been trapped under ice. Looking up, I saw everything happening, everything passing by but I couldn't touch any of it, feel it for what it was, absorb the sensation of time passing. I could only watch, eyes locked, frozen to a point up ahead where everything funneled through my vision yet escaped my perception.
I work and come home and take a nap because I'm too exhausted to keep my eyes open and then I eat crap and then I watch crap on television and then I go to bed, all the while thinking about writing or drawing and never actually doing it because I'm too physically and emotionally drained. I wake up and go through the same frustration the next day and then repeat until each day melts into the next, congealing and stretching out into a bleak future of further lethargy.
I've noticed a sharp decline in my energy recently. I've never had a ton because of my unhealthy eating habits and lack of exercise but things are getting worse. I can barely hold it together anymore. Waking up just gets harder and harder each morning, to the point where I'm hitting the snooze repeatedly and finding myself rushing out of the door so I'm not late for work. I'm not a morning person to begin with and having to wake up so early and being so tired despite a good amount of sleep just makes things all the more miserable.
I hate myself because I have been whining about getting together all of my animation stuff and now that I have it, I've barely used it. I'll play here or there but mostly it's just sitting in my room. I'm annoyed because I could be doing great things but I'm just too tired. That's not really an excuse but I guess it is why I haven't done anything. My head is too filled up with garbage to allow creativity to come through. I'm too preoccupied with things that simply don't matter to actually focus on the things that do.
I've also been pretty secluded. Not intentionally so, just kind of lost communication with a lot of people. I haven't called and no one else has called. No one's fault but I do feel the lack of human contact. Work doesn't count because its demanded of me to speak to people but if I had my say in the matter, the only thing I would communicate would be my middle finger as I walked out of the door. That goes for customers and most coworkers. And I'm kind of okay with that. Sometimes I do crave conversation. It comes but then it goes. It really just adds to the feel of the days meshing into one with no particular person, event, connection, emotion to separate the time, to individualize dates and days, to break up the monotony of moroseness.
I've been dealing with a lot of...well, not really dealing with, but ignoring a lot of important issues lately and I've come to a conclusion:
I'm just awful.
I'm a terrible student. Terrible vegetarian. Terrible Christian. Terrible person.
Outwardly, I might seem like a nice guy, like I'm doing well. But, I'm on fire on the inside. My ribcage is like a furnace that is consuming all that I've ever believed in. The flames lick away at my faith in life and love and myself. You see how I smile but you don't know the evil thoughts behind the smile, the selfishness, the intense anger that comes along with being me. I try to project a shiny outside to make up for the ruin within. It's kind of like I'm simply sweeping my life under a rug, making it appear neat and tidy but there's nothing tidy about me.
January glazed over me like I had been trapped under ice. Looking up, I saw everything happening, everything passing by but I couldn't touch any of it, feel it for what it was, absorb the sensation of time passing. I could only watch, eyes locked, frozen to a point up ahead where everything funneled through my vision yet escaped my perception.
I work and come home and take a nap because I'm too exhausted to keep my eyes open and then I eat crap and then I watch crap on television and then I go to bed, all the while thinking about writing or drawing and never actually doing it because I'm too physically and emotionally drained. I wake up and go through the same frustration the next day and then repeat until each day melts into the next, congealing and stretching out into a bleak future of further lethargy.
I've noticed a sharp decline in my energy recently. I've never had a ton because of my unhealthy eating habits and lack of exercise but things are getting worse. I can barely hold it together anymore. Waking up just gets harder and harder each morning, to the point where I'm hitting the snooze repeatedly and finding myself rushing out of the door so I'm not late for work. I'm not a morning person to begin with and having to wake up so early and being so tired despite a good amount of sleep just makes things all the more miserable.
I hate myself because I have been whining about getting together all of my animation stuff and now that I have it, I've barely used it. I'll play here or there but mostly it's just sitting in my room. I'm annoyed because I could be doing great things but I'm just too tired. That's not really an excuse but I guess it is why I haven't done anything. My head is too filled up with garbage to allow creativity to come through. I'm too preoccupied with things that simply don't matter to actually focus on the things that do.
I've also been pretty secluded. Not intentionally so, just kind of lost communication with a lot of people. I haven't called and no one else has called. No one's fault but I do feel the lack of human contact. Work doesn't count because its demanded of me to speak to people but if I had my say in the matter, the only thing I would communicate would be my middle finger as I walked out of the door. That goes for customers and most coworkers. And I'm kind of okay with that. Sometimes I do crave conversation. It comes but then it goes. It really just adds to the feel of the days meshing into one with no particular person, event, connection, emotion to separate the time, to individualize dates and days, to break up the monotony of moroseness.
I've been dealing with a lot of...well, not really dealing with, but ignoring a lot of important issues lately and I've come to a conclusion:
I'm just awful.
I'm a terrible student. Terrible vegetarian. Terrible Christian. Terrible person.
Outwardly, I might seem like a nice guy, like I'm doing well. But, I'm on fire on the inside. My ribcage is like a furnace that is consuming all that I've ever believed in. The flames lick away at my faith in life and love and myself. You see how I smile but you don't know the evil thoughts behind the smile, the selfishness, the intense anger that comes along with being me. I try to project a shiny outside to make up for the ruin within. It's kind of like I'm simply sweeping my life under a rug, making it appear neat and tidy but there's nothing tidy about me.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
book notes #1
So far, I've written 6,8714 words and approximately 149 pages for my book. Christmas kind of slowed me down and then I got out of the habit of writing daily. I could be finished with the first draft by now if I never would have stopped. Now, I'm finding it slightly difficult to get back into the mood of the story. I'm also at a point where I don't know how to continue. I had an original outline but things have changed slightly and now I'm not sure if continuing in the intended path will make any sense. Frankly, I haven't given myself the time or energy to come up with a different direction.
So, I have to wonder, when you plan on writing something, how much should you stick to the plan and how much should you allow the story to tell itself?
I've always been a pretty big fan of natural, organically flowing material. I've never been big into planning, whether it was with drawing, animating or writing. Sure, I'll have a general outline of what I want to happen. I think some structure is important, otherwise you'll run the risk of running way too long and getting off track of the intended message. But, too much structure seems to stifle creativity and could possibly interrupt a certain flow as well.
I think the thing that drives me crazy is the unlimited possibilities that present themselves when creating something. You can go anywhere, do anything. While these endless possibilities are wonderful, they are also stressful because when you finally choose your path, you have to wonder if there was a better road out there. Are you choosing the best possible scenario? How will you ever know? Art is an intricate maze of possibility. There are trillions of ways to get out but which one will be the most gratifying?
As I write this story, there are several possibilities that are starting to sprout up. I had originally intended the story to be about a guy who believes he is turning into a zombie. I wanted to share the perspectives from the guy and his girlfriend. Yet, as I wrote, I realized I was more inside the girl's head than the guy's. It's actually turning more into her story than it is his and I don't know if that's good or bad.
I think there must be some reason why my head decided to dictate the story the way it did. If this is my creativity taking over, should I be so quick to negate it by trying to sway myself back to my original plan? Sometimes plans are good until you are knee deep into the situation you had so carefully planned out. You're out in the trenches and you realize your plan no longer applies to your predicament.
The most appropriate solution is compromise. I suppose I should put a loose leash on my outline. I guess I'll try to follow the basic elements while allowing the story to tell itself. I don't want it to feel manufactured. I want it to flow. I want the characters motivations and actions to be based on their experiences, conversations, feelings rather than just to get from point A to point B.
And the more I write, the more I'm having ideas, ideas that differ from the original plan. Sure, that's a good thing. There's no reason to stick to a plan if you come up with a better one but it also complicates things, causes things to have to be changed around. Makes things messy. Things are messy enough on their own. And being such an amateur, these changes are scary. My outline was safe and I felt good writing within the lines of what I knew I wanted to happen. Exploring these new ideas, however, leave some situations open and unpredictable.
I guess I'm just scared. Maybe this book has a lot of potential, some decent ideas, but if I don't execute it right, I'll fail and no one will ever believe I can write anything good again. And I'll always wonder, "Well, if I would have done things differently, had the characters do one thing instead of the other, it might have made all the difference." It's very complicated to try to unfold a story, especially when it doesn't come out how you intended, especially when you feel you've lost control of your own creation. Then again, too much control is constricting.
All I can do is treat this first book as a learning experience. Just get it done, make mistakes, learn from them and write another one and hope I can do better.
So, I have to wonder, when you plan on writing something, how much should you stick to the plan and how much should you allow the story to tell itself?
I've always been a pretty big fan of natural, organically flowing material. I've never been big into planning, whether it was with drawing, animating or writing. Sure, I'll have a general outline of what I want to happen. I think some structure is important, otherwise you'll run the risk of running way too long and getting off track of the intended message. But, too much structure seems to stifle creativity and could possibly interrupt a certain flow as well.
I think the thing that drives me crazy is the unlimited possibilities that present themselves when creating something. You can go anywhere, do anything. While these endless possibilities are wonderful, they are also stressful because when you finally choose your path, you have to wonder if there was a better road out there. Are you choosing the best possible scenario? How will you ever know? Art is an intricate maze of possibility. There are trillions of ways to get out but which one will be the most gratifying?
As I write this story, there are several possibilities that are starting to sprout up. I had originally intended the story to be about a guy who believes he is turning into a zombie. I wanted to share the perspectives from the guy and his girlfriend. Yet, as I wrote, I realized I was more inside the girl's head than the guy's. It's actually turning more into her story than it is his and I don't know if that's good or bad.
I think there must be some reason why my head decided to dictate the story the way it did. If this is my creativity taking over, should I be so quick to negate it by trying to sway myself back to my original plan? Sometimes plans are good until you are knee deep into the situation you had so carefully planned out. You're out in the trenches and you realize your plan no longer applies to your predicament.
The most appropriate solution is compromise. I suppose I should put a loose leash on my outline. I guess I'll try to follow the basic elements while allowing the story to tell itself. I don't want it to feel manufactured. I want it to flow. I want the characters motivations and actions to be based on their experiences, conversations, feelings rather than just to get from point A to point B.
And the more I write, the more I'm having ideas, ideas that differ from the original plan. Sure, that's a good thing. There's no reason to stick to a plan if you come up with a better one but it also complicates things, causes things to have to be changed around. Makes things messy. Things are messy enough on their own. And being such an amateur, these changes are scary. My outline was safe and I felt good writing within the lines of what I knew I wanted to happen. Exploring these new ideas, however, leave some situations open and unpredictable.
I guess I'm just scared. Maybe this book has a lot of potential, some decent ideas, but if I don't execute it right, I'll fail and no one will ever believe I can write anything good again. And I'll always wonder, "Well, if I would have done things differently, had the characters do one thing instead of the other, it might have made all the difference." It's very complicated to try to unfold a story, especially when it doesn't come out how you intended, especially when you feel you've lost control of your own creation. Then again, too much control is constricting.
All I can do is treat this first book as a learning experience. Just get it done, make mistakes, learn from them and write another one and hope I can do better.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
exquisite vampire
I just finished Breaking Dawn, the final book in the Twilight saga.
As per usual, when I watch a movie or read a book, I like to look up the reviews to see what other people thought. Sometimes, they'll even bring up a topic about the book/movie that I'll find interesting. It might ask a question I hadn't thought of or bring up a point that causes me to appreciate it more. Sometimes, they might even answer a question or concern I have.
Well, the book got a lot of bad reviews. Lots of accusations of bad writing, bad plot, bad characters...pretty much bad everything. I started to feel bad for Stephenie Meyer because people are really trashing the book. Not just that one, either, but the whole series. Even though I feel bad, I can't not agree, at least somewhat, with the reviews.
Frankly, I didn't hate the book. It kept me interested (mostly) and I was able to read it in a few days. But, I went in having already read the first three and I knew I shouldn't expect anything groundbreaking or life-changing. Pretty much my whole attitude toward the books have been that they are decent stories about vampires and love and that they are aimed toward preteen girls, whether that aim was intentional or not. So, using my preteen girl mind, I took the books for what they were and enjoyed them. They are safe, not asking you to think too much or feel too deeply. Outwardly, they don't cause you to question people or relationships or life. It's just good entertainment.
For some reason, it seems to me that books are judged much more harshly than movies. Have you ever watched a Friday the 13th film and expected it to touch your heart or enrich your life? Of course not. The movies are just good watches. So, why does every book, including the Twilight series, have to be a Shakespearean masterpiece? Why should the author be punished for her imperfect prose? I can't speak for Ms. Meyer, as I don't know her intentions while writing the books, but she probably wanted the books to be good and to touch people in their own way, but never thought they were going to be literary ambrosia.
And I'm not trying to make excuses for bad writing. Obviously, the more crap we allow to be put into the world, the more people will absorb it and accept it and start expecting it. We will gradually dumb ourselves down. In fact, I'm sure we already have. Just look at the reality television explosion. They've replaced well written shows that could entertain, teach and enlighten. But, I think there's different forms of entertainment out there. I think all of those different forms of entertainment should be absorbed. Sure, you can have some mindless fun but you should also try to educate yourself as well. Watch a little Jersey Shore, then absorb a documentary. Listen to Britney Spears and follow it up with some Beethovan. Read Twilight and then check out Pride and Prejudice, which Twilight is loosely based on.
As I mentioned before, I feel bad for Stephenie Meyer. No matter what her intentions for the books, I'm sure they are incredibly special to her, especially considering what they've managed to accomplish. And to have people bash that must tarnish a bit of her happiness. Then again, she's a multi-millionaire so she really shouldn't have anything to feel bad about. Even if everyone thinks her work is crap, she's still cashing those checks. It's just that, as a wannabe writer, I know how it is to put stuff out there and hope people will like it and when they don't, it's a let down, especially when your writing is extremely personal to you. When people reject your work, it's almost like they are rejecting you. And that hurts. And, as a wannabe writer, I don't think I'm any more talented than Ms. Meyer. So, if people think she sucks then I guess I do, too! Of course, her books have been wildly successful so maybe that also means mine might be one day as well. Lastly, as a wannabe writer who happens to be working on a novel, I know it's not easy to write a book. So to be able to write something that's at least coherent and readable is an accomplishment itself.
And isn't entertainment subjective? Not everyone is going to like the same thing. Not everyone is going to hate the same thing.
I guess feeling sorry for Meyer is a reflection of my own insecurities. If I ever get anything published or go the self-publishing route, I'm going to be terrified that I'll suck, that people will be repulsed by my horrid writing. I'm terrified people will find out that I'm actually not talented at all, that I can't handle anything more than an unorganized blog. It's kind of funny because I actually found an editor willing to work on my novel I wrote for National Novel Writing Month and now that I've found one, I'm too scared to actually work with him. I don't want him to read my stuff and think it's crap, that I'm crap.
I suppose I really need to get over this self-loathing. It's starting to get tired, I know. I can't help it much, though. But, hey, if I could make the kind of cash the Mormon vamp lady is making, I think I'd be able to deal a lot better. In fact, I'm sure I'd feel pretty darn good about myself. But, it'll never happen if I never submit the story to an editor, never have the guts to put my writing out there, put myself out there, believe in what I can do and share it with the world.
I guess I gotta suck it up and take a bite out of life.
See what I did there?
As per usual, when I watch a movie or read a book, I like to look up the reviews to see what other people thought. Sometimes, they'll even bring up a topic about the book/movie that I'll find interesting. It might ask a question I hadn't thought of or bring up a point that causes me to appreciate it more. Sometimes, they might even answer a question or concern I have.
Well, the book got a lot of bad reviews. Lots of accusations of bad writing, bad plot, bad characters...pretty much bad everything. I started to feel bad for Stephenie Meyer because people are really trashing the book. Not just that one, either, but the whole series. Even though I feel bad, I can't not agree, at least somewhat, with the reviews.
Frankly, I didn't hate the book. It kept me interested (mostly) and I was able to read it in a few days. But, I went in having already read the first three and I knew I shouldn't expect anything groundbreaking or life-changing. Pretty much my whole attitude toward the books have been that they are decent stories about vampires and love and that they are aimed toward preteen girls, whether that aim was intentional or not. So, using my preteen girl mind, I took the books for what they were and enjoyed them. They are safe, not asking you to think too much or feel too deeply. Outwardly, they don't cause you to question people or relationships or life. It's just good entertainment.
For some reason, it seems to me that books are judged much more harshly than movies. Have you ever watched a Friday the 13th film and expected it to touch your heart or enrich your life? Of course not. The movies are just good watches. So, why does every book, including the Twilight series, have to be a Shakespearean masterpiece? Why should the author be punished for her imperfect prose? I can't speak for Ms. Meyer, as I don't know her intentions while writing the books, but she probably wanted the books to be good and to touch people in their own way, but never thought they were going to be literary ambrosia.
And I'm not trying to make excuses for bad writing. Obviously, the more crap we allow to be put into the world, the more people will absorb it and accept it and start expecting it. We will gradually dumb ourselves down. In fact, I'm sure we already have. Just look at the reality television explosion. They've replaced well written shows that could entertain, teach and enlighten. But, I think there's different forms of entertainment out there. I think all of those different forms of entertainment should be absorbed. Sure, you can have some mindless fun but you should also try to educate yourself as well. Watch a little Jersey Shore, then absorb a documentary. Listen to Britney Spears and follow it up with some Beethovan. Read Twilight and then check out Pride and Prejudice, which Twilight is loosely based on.
As I mentioned before, I feel bad for Stephenie Meyer. No matter what her intentions for the books, I'm sure they are incredibly special to her, especially considering what they've managed to accomplish. And to have people bash that must tarnish a bit of her happiness. Then again, she's a multi-millionaire so she really shouldn't have anything to feel bad about. Even if everyone thinks her work is crap, she's still cashing those checks. It's just that, as a wannabe writer, I know how it is to put stuff out there and hope people will like it and when they don't, it's a let down, especially when your writing is extremely personal to you. When people reject your work, it's almost like they are rejecting you. And that hurts. And, as a wannabe writer, I don't think I'm any more talented than Ms. Meyer. So, if people think she sucks then I guess I do, too! Of course, her books have been wildly successful so maybe that also means mine might be one day as well. Lastly, as a wannabe writer who happens to be working on a novel, I know it's not easy to write a book. So to be able to write something that's at least coherent and readable is an accomplishment itself.
And isn't entertainment subjective? Not everyone is going to like the same thing. Not everyone is going to hate the same thing.
I guess feeling sorry for Meyer is a reflection of my own insecurities. If I ever get anything published or go the self-publishing route, I'm going to be terrified that I'll suck, that people will be repulsed by my horrid writing. I'm terrified people will find out that I'm actually not talented at all, that I can't handle anything more than an unorganized blog. It's kind of funny because I actually found an editor willing to work on my novel I wrote for National Novel Writing Month and now that I've found one, I'm too scared to actually work with him. I don't want him to read my stuff and think it's crap, that I'm crap.
I suppose I really need to get over this self-loathing. It's starting to get tired, I know. I can't help it much, though. But, hey, if I could make the kind of cash the Mormon vamp lady is making, I think I'd be able to deal a lot better. In fact, I'm sure I'd feel pretty darn good about myself. But, it'll never happen if I never submit the story to an editor, never have the guts to put my writing out there, put myself out there, believe in what I can do and share it with the world.
I guess I gotta suck it up and take a bite out of life.
See what I did there?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
fantastic head
"Everywhere you look, everywhere you turn
Illness is watching, waiting its turn..."
-Sufjan Stevens, I Want to be Well
My brain has been twisting like a corkscrew.
In the past several weeks, I've heard from a lot of people that I should lighten up. I absolutely agree with their observations. I just don't know how. At the risk of sounding embarrassingly cheesy, it's hard to lighten up when your world is full of darkness. Of course, that could all be a matter of perspective. Maybe I'm making things dark for myself. Maybe my depression is all my fault. Maybe I am playing the victim. But if that's the case, why am I doing it and how can I stop?
Back in college, my horse-faced counselor laid out some labels for me to ponder. He said I put people into three categories: Victim (which is me), Executioner (which at the time was my roommate but applies to anyone I dislike) and Savior (which at the time was Chasity, one of the only people I grew close to in college, but applies to anyone I like). He said that I played the Victim and sought out Executioners and Saviors. I took it to mean he felt I was responsible for all of my misery, that I had somehow constructed my chronic sadness by casting characters who fit certain roles to play out my misery like it was a stage play. Sitting in the chair, staring at this man with the mile-long face, his gray ponytail dangling behind his neck, his irregular and yellow teeth glossy under the florescent lights, I thought to myself, "It's all my fault? It's all my fault?"
I got up, left and never went back.
I was going through the hardest time of my life and this man who was supposed to help me was just making everything worse, telling me I had brought it all on myself, that I was the one to blame. Looking back, he very well could have been correct. I think a lot of times I probably do make people out to be the enemy. Sometimes I do act like I'm a victim, like the entire world is against me. Although he might have been right, his delivery was devastating. I was more fragile than I normally am, trying to deal with a host of changes and it seems he should have been more sensitive to my plight. I wish he would have broke everything down for me a bit more gently. Of course, even now I guess it sounds like I'm making my counselor sound like the enemy. I'm not saying he was, just that dropping such a bomb in such a cold way probably wasn't the best method of trying to get through to me.
Or maybe I'm just truly crazy and anyone that doesn't coddle me winds up being an Executioner in my stage play.
Fade out.
New scene.
There are a lot of times when I feel like there is something legitimately wrong with me. Either I have some kind of mental illness or depression or something but I am just not normal nor do I feel like I fit in with other people. Or that maybe I was clinically depressed or repressing some kind of tragic childhood trauma that made me the way I am right now. I was looking for something, any kind of excuse to explain why I am so dysfunctional. There had to be a reason, a moment or phrase or person or action that shaped me into the broken person I've become.
I suppose I was really just trying to take the easy way out, seeking some disease or mental disorder to absolve me of all responsibility, a defect in my genetic makeup that would easily explain all my craziness. But, I don't know if there is any. I haven't been formally diagnosed with depression, although I think that might be more probable than any other explanation. I have to wonder, though, if I don't have a mental disorder and it's not necessarily depression that makes me so empty inside, what is the cause? Am I doing this to myself? And if so, why?
Illness is watching, waiting its turn..."
-Sufjan Stevens, I Want to be Well
My brain has been twisting like a corkscrew.
In the past several weeks, I've heard from a lot of people that I should lighten up. I absolutely agree with their observations. I just don't know how. At the risk of sounding embarrassingly cheesy, it's hard to lighten up when your world is full of darkness. Of course, that could all be a matter of perspective. Maybe I'm making things dark for myself. Maybe my depression is all my fault. Maybe I am playing the victim. But if that's the case, why am I doing it and how can I stop?
Back in college, my horse-faced counselor laid out some labels for me to ponder. He said I put people into three categories: Victim (which is me), Executioner (which at the time was my roommate but applies to anyone I dislike) and Savior (which at the time was Chasity, one of the only people I grew close to in college, but applies to anyone I like). He said that I played the Victim and sought out Executioners and Saviors. I took it to mean he felt I was responsible for all of my misery, that I had somehow constructed my chronic sadness by casting characters who fit certain roles to play out my misery like it was a stage play. Sitting in the chair, staring at this man with the mile-long face, his gray ponytail dangling behind his neck, his irregular and yellow teeth glossy under the florescent lights, I thought to myself, "It's all my fault? It's all my fault?"
I got up, left and never went back.
I was going through the hardest time of my life and this man who was supposed to help me was just making everything worse, telling me I had brought it all on myself, that I was the one to blame. Looking back, he very well could have been correct. I think a lot of times I probably do make people out to be the enemy. Sometimes I do act like I'm a victim, like the entire world is against me. Although he might have been right, his delivery was devastating. I was more fragile than I normally am, trying to deal with a host of changes and it seems he should have been more sensitive to my plight. I wish he would have broke everything down for me a bit more gently. Of course, even now I guess it sounds like I'm making my counselor sound like the enemy. I'm not saying he was, just that dropping such a bomb in such a cold way probably wasn't the best method of trying to get through to me.
Or maybe I'm just truly crazy and anyone that doesn't coddle me winds up being an Executioner in my stage play.
Fade out.
New scene.
There are a lot of times when I feel like there is something legitimately wrong with me. Either I have some kind of mental illness or depression or something but I am just not normal nor do I feel like I fit in with other people. Or that maybe I was clinically depressed or repressing some kind of tragic childhood trauma that made me the way I am right now. I was looking for something, any kind of excuse to explain why I am so dysfunctional. There had to be a reason, a moment or phrase or person or action that shaped me into the broken person I've become.
I suppose I was really just trying to take the easy way out, seeking some disease or mental disorder to absolve me of all responsibility, a defect in my genetic makeup that would easily explain all my craziness. But, I don't know if there is any. I haven't been formally diagnosed with depression, although I think that might be more probable than any other explanation. I have to wonder, though, if I don't have a mental disorder and it's not necessarily depression that makes me so empty inside, what is the cause? Am I doing this to myself? And if so, why?
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