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Can we talk about how much I read in a week?

For my American Lit class...

By Tuesday:

• Web reading on Naturalism: http://www.wsu.edu/~campbelld/amlit/natural.htm
• Read Intro 1
• Jack London textbook introduction (pp. 1811-1812)
• “To Build a Fire” (1908), by Jack London (pp. 1812-1823)
• Stephen Crane textbook introduction (pp. 1765-1768)
• “The Blue Hotel” (1898), by Stephen Crane (pp. 1784-1803) 
• Our Norton anthology includes a few excerpts from Crane's "War is Kind."  Please read the final two stanzas on p.1805. 

By Wednesday:

• Begin reading American Literature, 1914-1945 (Norton 1837-1856)
• Read Intro 2
• “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (1915) by T.S. Eliot (pp. 2006-2009)
• Read the Norton intro for E.E. Cummings (pp.2135-2136) and the poems “Buffalo Bill’s” and “next to of course god america i”  (pp. 2138-2139)
• Read "Mearl Blankenship" and "Absalom"--both from Muriel Rukeyser's U.S. 1 :
  Rukeyser (pdf)
  The text is from Rukeyser, Muriel. U.S. 1. New York: J.J. Little and Ives Company, 1938.

By Thursday

•  Fitzgerald intro in Norton (pp.2147-2149)
• "Winter Dreams" (1922), by F. Scott Fitzgerald (pp. 2149-2164)
• Ernest Hemingway textbook introduction (pp. 2203-2205)
• "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" (1938), by Ernest Hemingway (pp. 2205-2221)
• W. E. B. Du Bois textbook intro (pp.1715-1716) and "Souls of Black Folk" Chapter 1 (pp. 1717-1722)
• Edwin Arlington Robinson textbook intro (p. 1857) and the poems "Richard Cory," "Miniver Cheevy," and "Mr. Flood's Party" (1858-1860)

For my regular Lit class... 

•  "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins-Gilman
• "The Moths" by Maria Viramontes

For my Creative Writing class... 

• "My Life with the Wave" by Octavio Paz
  

This is what I have to READ; it does not include what I have to WRITE. And while much of this is pleasurable, it's still categorized as, "For School." I like to read for pleasure, too. Last week I read a whole book (plus a few fanfics) on top of all this and schoolwork. When people say they "don't have time to read," I roll my eyes. Make time! The benefits of reading are astronomical. Recently I was at a party and people kept complimenting me on my vocabulary (which is basically the best thing ever for a nerd like me). Not only does your use of language improve, but so does your knowledge of human nature, culture, history, psychology, etc. etc. Reading is the bee's knees. Go pick up that book you've been meaning to read!

Star Stuff

[People always ask if my poetry is 100% true, and I always say that parts of it are real and parts of it are fiction] [This is a rough draft] [And also meant to be performed] [Brackets are cool]

Star Stuff

VZ

1460 cherry reds and a jean jacket torn at the sleeves,

I stomp through your dreams

Disturb your peace

Kiss you to sleep

You’re always asking why my hair is so magnificent 

Magical

Marvelous

Maddening

And I just shrug and reply, “I don’t know, I never brush it.”

“Of course,” you say, “of course.”

Like I just answered

The most important question of the universe

(And your eyes shine bright

And your lips stick to my lips

And you pet my hair)

And maybe you’ll never understand why I love you.

Why I love you, black button-up.

Why I love you, watermelon tongue.

Why I love you, greased hair.

Why I love you, cigarette-between-teeth, stealer-of-sheets, foot-massager,

cunnilingus-enthusiast, never-eats-sweets.

(Well, except for me)

You think I’m too young

And wild

And talented

And beautiful

And bloody fucking brilliant

(And you’re right, you’re goddamn right)

But so are you

So are we

And ever since we met I’ve never been able to see

a tree the same

They call to me

Entice me with branch and leaf and shady caress of tall and green

And I can hear you whisper, “This is Nature’s sonnet. Nature sings.”

Like that time in the park I brought a blanket

And we lied

Under a sycamore under the sky

Blue

Scattered with clouds

Scattered with faces we knew and

Didn’t know

Your wife

My mother

The son of god

Your dead brother—

Who you say would’ve loved me ‘cause he was like you but

better

‘Cause he was like me but

older

And that makes me think of all the parts of you I don’t have—

Will never have because they’re dead

Because they’re lost to time

(Because they’re not mine)

Like your first cry as an infant in the world

The fibers in the carpet you first stepped on

The fibers in the carpet you first vomited on

(From too much liquor)

The face you made when you first got your shit tattoo

The noise you made when you first came

The thought you had when you first saw my face

The way your brother made you feel about you

Made you feel about life

(And why you didn’t just wait for me when you decided you needed a wife)

And sure, I know a lot about you

More than anyone, anywhere knows about you or

Anyone, anywhere

Not just that you’re in love with cheese

Or that you used to be in a band and sing

Or that your favorite color is black

Second: red

Third: green

I know the exact shape your brows take on when you cry

And the diameter of your pupils blown-wide

And your most treasured, sacred-secret lines

kept in your

Most treasured, sacred-secret notebooks—

Morrissey and

Neruda and

Henley

And I know the tremble of your hands across my skin

Across the breadth of me

And I know what you fear most in this terrifying, gorgeous world

(It’s the same as mine)

You fear a wasted existence

A half life

A life spent behind the posts of an open door

Symphonies unwritten

unplayed.

A soul undiscovered

unnamed.

You fear places unvisited

Homes and parks and shops revisited

Day after day

An endless, hopeless cycle

You fear strong, steady hands filing papers

Not filling starved bellies

Not holding dying hands

Not tilling the fields in foreign lands

These are the things we’re most afraid of—

You and I.

I can hardly separate us, can I?

Some say that opposites attract 

but you and I are the very same

We were born of the same star-stuff

Split delicately by the hands of God

Thrown into the void

to find the void

(Left by each other)

We’re not soulmates, no

We’re more

We’re Twin Flames

(And when you’re inside me we've only one name)

And I don’t care

I don’t care if this sounds crazy

IAMCRAZY

I may be the only person who ever fucking pulls my teeth out for love

For you

For sunny mornings, cheek-flush, thousands of kisses lost in my hair

Thousands of kisses lost in the skin spaces

For the dust particles stuck to your nose like little freckle-blessings

Like little mole-constellations

For the sighs muffled by the chirping birds outside

For the supernova orgasms and the nebulae in your eyes from all the star-fucking

(We can’t ever seem to stop doing)

And finally, most importantly,

for the silent dialogue of you and me

So, if I stomp through your dreams like some parody of a punk princess

You write all of mine, Sir Cosmic Cuddler, Love-of-Mine

And I love these dreams best

I loathe these dreams most

And I pray to them to take you out

To make you right here

(Next to me)

And not so far away

Working on a poem... it's really good. I think. Anyway, it's for this. I have to submit 3-5 poems and I'm not sure which ones from my collection. Maybe I'll just write all new ones? I don't know. Exciting stuff, though. I wanted to go to Paris this summer but I figure this writer's intensive is probably more fruitful than a month in France. IF I get it, of course.

If I get it, R.I.P. crepes. R.I.P. Louvre. R.I.P. rue Cler. R.I.P. Oscar Wilde's tomb, Lover's Bridge, Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Cafe de Flor, Musee d'Orsay, Versailles and macarons and cheap Merlot and nights out dancing along the Seine, and sleepy mornings with cafe au lait and Jean-Paul Sartre and half-smoked cigarettes. Rest in peace.

Okay, I'm done.

The writers teaching in this program are absolutely incredible. I just about died when I saw Louise Gluck's name (fucking Eros). Not to mention Jorie Graham, Robert Pinsky, Frank Bidart... Getting this would be amazinggggg.

So, that's what I'm up to! My creative writing class is going well at Southwestern, too. We have to write a short story next month. I already know the end, wanna hear it? (this is a rough draft, by the way)

"Is this real?"

"I don't know." 

She cups his cheek, thumb grazing over two-day stubble. His jaw is tight from the uncertainty of her answer, and she can tell he wants to flinch at her touch, wants to run away from her indefinitely, but he doesn't. Never has. Wouldn't dare.

He'd give her a grenade and wait patiently by her side until she unpinned it.  

Funnily enough, she'd do the same.

"I don't care," she says quietly, "it feels real."

The exhale from his lips comes directly from his soul, and she can smell it. The heady, heavy scent of tentative trust. Like a child testing out his legs.

And she can hear the pumping of his heart. Taste the blood flow through every vein. Feel the way his limbs breathe with him and come back to life again; all at once. 

She knows this like her favorite poem: line-by-line, eyes closed.

"Yeah?" He asks, and he searches her eyes imploringly. Desperately. But he should know the answer, damn it. How could he not know?

Suddenly she is overcome, undone, wrecked with her want to kill his fear. To choke it and bury it and spit on its grave. This is her man to protect and love. This is her person in all of this world--reality, dreams, wherever the fuck--it's all the same. 

This is HER person.

"Yes," she answers, but it's more of a smile than anything.

He nods then, runs a hand through his slicked back hair. His lips quirk into an awkward shape like all those times she made a clever joke and he'd do his best to avoid smiling. To avoid giving her the pure satisfaction.

She mustn't know this conversation was 3.4 seconds away from ruining him (even if he knows she knows). 

There are just some things you don't need to say.

"Tea, then?"

:(

I've been so crazy-busy lately. It was the second week of school and I had an essay and midterm exam on top of all my regular course work. I love how 3-page papers no longer give me anxiety, as I can churn them out in under a few hours. If only I had this kind of concentration and drive in high school... It would have saved me a lot of late nights.

But anyway, school and social responsibilities like birthday parties, baby showers, and baseball games (hey, alliteration!) took up all my precious time this week. Sigh. I haven't had much free time to write, and whenever I do have free time, it's been spent reading (because that's my favorite activity and re-energizer in the world, and no one can take that away from me ever).

I need to get in the swing of things, so I signed up for a creative writing class at Southwestern. I'm taking another class, too--intro to literature--because I somehow skipped it and it's a degree requirement. I also wanted to take a screenwriting class, but alas, I won't have a car to take me to school on Wednesday nights. :( It's okay, though.

2014 has been really great thus far! I mean, I haven't done much (haven't done shit) in terms of writing or traveling or adventuring, but I've been quite happy and boundless in my mirth. It feels like it's overflowing, and I'm not sure why. I guess I just feel like something amazing and magical is going to happen! Has already happened, and the wheels are in motion...

I can't wait to see where my travels take me this year, and I already have a few opportunities presenting themselves. My sister wants to study in Paris this summer (for a month), and I might be able to go, too! My best friend, Awesta, has extended her visa for six months in China and desperately wants me to come visit. My parents are talking about a vacation in Cabo, and my mom's friend may be going to Boston in April and invited me to tag along. Possibilities! But I don't know... I can't seem to get London off my mind. I think about it constantly.

Also, I've been reading a lot of incredible stuff lately. Ralph Waldo Emerson, to be exact, and his essays Nature and The American Scholar. That dude is mind-blowing. I love reading the work of great thinkers, and I love how their ideas sometimes correlate with mine. Or enrage me! Or enlighten me! Or inspire me! I feel really enlightened, actually... I can see my philosophies and beliefs changing. It feels good. I'm just letting them; no point in stopping them. I'm bursting with new life, creativity, and intellect this year. It's wonderful.

In fact, this morning, during my regular scripture study and prayer time, I was reading something I didn't agree with at all. And instead of forcing myself to try and believe it (like I would've in the past), I shrugged it off and put the book down, content with simply disagreeing. That kinda amazes me! Maybe it's hard to understand, but I grew up with this stuff and it's really hard to admit you don't like some of it. I'm talking about Christianity, folks. For so long I hated myself for not agreeing with my parents or grandparents, but why hurt yourself by trying to conform to something that just feels wrong? Do what feels right in your heart.. BE what feels right in your heart... and you'll be a much better person for it.

Okay, I'm done rambling. Gonna spend the day working on my dream story and preparing for school tomorrow.

Go be awesome! Go be radical! Take some risks, break some rules, run like you're on fire, smile like a mad scientist, be kind to a stranger, use your heart's compass! Love recklessly! Your time is short.

<3

V

Feeling a bit (a lot) discouraged today.
It's difficult to have ridiculous dreams, but it's even more difficult when the people you love most in the world think they're ridiculous, too.
"You have to be realistic" is possibly the most wretched thing anyone can ever tell you.
When it's coming from your best friend, it's like a stab wound.
Some days I look at my life and think, "How will I ever accomplish the desires of my heart?"
It feels impossible, and I can feel those dreams slipping, slinking into the shadows...
I still hold onto them with a fool's hope.
I keep them in the light, but for how much longer will they stay?

Thoughts on Her

Last night I watched "Her," a film directed by Spike Jonze starring Joaquin Phoenix and Scarlett Johansson, and I have to say, I haven't loved a movie this much in a very long time. It's thought-provoking, sweet, uncomfortable, and overall, memorable. It quickly became a favorite. Anyway, this is not a review, just a post about how much I admire the metaphysical, existential, and romantic ideas explored in this film. I noticed about four major themes and I wanted to get them all out in the open because I cannot stop thinking about them (and their importance).

Humanity has forgotten the beauty of being alive
This is so obviously the dominant theme in this film because we see how much Theodore grows from seeing the world through Samantha's eyes. She's an operating system discovering what it means to interact with humanity and live in the physical, and she LOVES it. All of her joys, passions, interests, pains, and fears are expressed beautifully, and it's so new and irresistible. Intoxicating. She's excited to be alive. How many humans actually feel that way? We saw how cold and detached Theodore was before Samantha came along (that represents us right now), and it's a commentary about how humanity has completely lost the joy of being human. Being ALIVE. Having emotions and experiences and memories. Life is a wonderful thing and Samantha's character is there to remind us of that.

Love comes in many different forms, and that's totally OK
This is another obvious theme because we see Theodore fall in love with an intelligent OS. This is unconventional, even in our time when we're seeing more open homosexual (LGBTQ fucking everything) relationships, polyamorous relationships, platonic life partnerships, etc. etc. How is it even possible for someone to love a computer? I believe "Her" handled this idea delicately, being sure to provide both perspectives (Rooney Mara's character who opposes it, and Amy Adams' character who supports it). I love how ultimately, Theodore says "fuck it" because life is too short not to enjoy. Not to give and receive love. To him, and anyone who has connected with an OS, it feels REAL. So who's to say it's not? Sounds crazy, but maybe we're just not emotionally advanced as a species to understand this... yet.

People change and there is nothing you can do about it
This theme comes up multiple times. First with Theodore and Catherine's failing relationship, then Amy and Charles', then finally, Theodore and Samantha's. People evolve and feelings change. I think this film shows that it doesn't always have to be devastating. It doesn't always have to end in pain or even severance. These relationships end on a somewhat positive note--Theodore's last letter to Catherine (so fucking beautiful) and Samantha and Theodore's sweet goodbye. When I think about people changing in relationships, I know that it's an inevitability. Some people fall out of love (like Amy/Charles), some people were never really right for each other (Theo/Catherine), and some people blur the lines completely (Samantha/Theo). There's one line from the film that relates to this idea of "blurring lines" perfectly, and it's when Samantha tells Theodore she's fallen in love with about 600 other people: "But the heart's not like a box that gets filled up. It expands in size the more you love,"
AND

Theo: "That doesn't make any sense. You're mine or you're not mine."
Samantha: "No, Theodore. I'm yours and I'm not yours."

*Applauds* Can we just gush about how groundbreaking these ideas on love are? I could talk about this theme all day, but I'm going to move onto the next one because this is getting long.

Our communication sucks and should be more like Sam/Theo's
First, I'd like to point out the fact that Samantha, a fucking operating system, is better at communicating her emotions than Theodore is. Did you hear me? A machine is better at communicating than a human is. I feel like this is so true in reality, too. People have lost the art of communication, we hold everything back and just don't handle things in a healthy way. From the beginning, Samantha effortlessly shares her emotions and thoughts, while Theodore represses them (this caused trouble in his marriage, too). But then a thought occurs to him, 'Why not share everything with Samantha? I feel like I can.' And then suddenly audiences get really lovely moments like the morning after Sam/Theo have sex, and Theo's like "Oh, I should probs mention that I don't want anything serious right now," and Samantha's like, "Whoa buddy, did I suggest I wanted something serious?" And then Theo's like holy shit you're right, sorry bby, tell me what you're feeling and let's talk about this like two intelligent, EQUAL, mature adults. Theodore and Samantha give each other this safe haven where they can discuss anything/everything. There are so many times when they handle their problems by simply TALKING about them, or saying, "You know what, I don't like who I am right now, let me get back to you." Like, THIS IS WHAT RELATIONSHIPS SHOULD BE. That's fucking love right there.

That's about all I have time for today, but if anything else comes up, I will be sure to include it later. But damn, go see this movie. Seriously. Go see how it challenges what you've come to know about love and human nature. Plus, if you like sci-fi and/or set and/or costume design, it's a pretty awesome film for that.

V

I think I'm getting sick (body aches and sore throat) and all I want is to whine freely with my head in your lap, a cup of tea an arm's reach away, and Lost in Translation on...

And also, I'd like to be petted.

Thanks,

V

This year is all about hardcore commitment for me, especially in regards to my writing. I feel as though I have all this talent that just goes to waste because I'm afraid, or lazy, or I can't stop scrolling through Tumblr... *takes long break from blog to scroll through Tumblr*

It makes me feel ashamed that I have so many wonderful dreams and ideas, yet no commitment to follow through with them.

God gave me this talent, and it is my duty to share it with the world. We need more writers!

And also, omg, I just wrote an introduction for my online American Lit class, and I was telling everyone how I'm studying to become an English teacher, but my real heart and passion is in writing, and one of my classmates was like, "You should be a creative writing major if you love it, I urge you to check out the program..." and when people tell me things like that, I make this face ":O" and I begin rethinking EVERYTHING.

Am I doing the right thing? I want to be a writer but I know how difficult it is to make a living from it, so I figured: English teacher! I can write on the side! But I don't want to write on the side. I want to teach on the side. I'M HAVING AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS RIGHT NOW, HELP.

Like, if I want to write, I should be studying the craft, right? There are CLASSES that teach one about writing novels and poetry and plays and screenplays, and they force you to constantly produce work, and whyhaveineverthoughtofthis?! I'm freaking out.

And I had this wonderful, lovely idea for a short story (or play or screenplay or book) this morning that has magic and romance and science fiction and yes!, and I can't wait to start it but I'm scared.

Why am I so scared?

This blog post is making me question everything, and I think I'll need some time to figure out what I'm going to do about it...

V

Things I'm grateful for: Sunday Edition

• This coffee is so good.
• Sign of Three today, folks. SIGN OF THREE.
• I'm on schedule to reach 20 miles this week, with an easy 2-mile run today! Woo!
• I actually have some money in my bank account.
• I'm for sure traveling this year!
• I'm writing again.
• Somebody loves me.