one semester down.
hard to believe i've been at this since august. it seems like a few weeks ago that i showed up like a first-day-preschooler with a proper book-bag and a little lunch. i was terrified. admittedly, i still am. however, i have an ounce more courage than i did four months ago. for what it's worth, much has been shoved into my tiny little brain, and the results are as yet unknown. so, in the spirit of my tiny little brain (is there a spirit in my tiny little brain?), here is a grocery list of the damage:
1. i have never been very disciplined. this is changing--not in the traditional sense. the less i have to choose from, the more room my brain has to create. so, i keep my clothing options narrow, my grocery budget low (so i have only what's on sale to choose from), and my daily activities simplified. this is an experiment. it may be faulty. but i have the luxury of such simplicities right now.
2. revision. revision. revision. it never ends. and when you think you've revised enough and you go to deliver the paper (that you hope christmas-story-like will receive the A+++++!), you discover you used an "an" instead of an "a" and you rue the moment you stopped revising. the illusive perfection girl-slaps you in the face.
3. don't be fooled. it isn't as cool as it sounds. trust me. a phd in aesthetics is just putting one word on the page at a time. have you ever travelled out of the country to an exotic or remote locale, and expected to feel totally different when you get there? and you don't? and there are still people there, and they remind you of the people in the not exotic/remote locale? that's what it's like. there are still people there. and most of them are pretty average. i am not alone.
4. don't be fooled again. you can be lonely anywhere, and you can be content anywhere. don't believe the lie. it's not about circumstances. it's about faith. faith overcomes a multitude of circumstances. i am pummeled with the verse: "this is the victory that overcomes the world: even our faith." stunning. everyday has been overcome already. faith in Christ instills courage. the only kind.
5. i feel refracted. direction changed. check. altered. check. the light is hitting me in all new ways altering my vision. i feel pulled in by the depth that leaps off the canvas. i am incapable of escape.
6. don't buy the pike place. buy the bold pick of the day. pike place sucks--it tastes like brewed bug backs (there is extensive research to back this up). one needs a strong brew that burns all the way down when one is spending so many hours reading. bold brew makes for efficient thinking. pike place just makes you jittery without all the fun. resist pike place. it is the dark side.
7. never stop. work everyday. find a routine and stick with it. find a space and claim it. some days creativity will occur. other days will be a failure--or they will be perceived as a failure--they are really preparations for success. wait. wait for the ideas--they will eventually come. but you will have to work very hard with little success before they come. and when they come, you'll wonder why you didn't think of that before. never stop working.
11.20.2010
block
there are days. all sorts. this is one of them.
i wonder if this is the day i ran out of something to say?
so i'm afraid. i'm afraid this day's failure is the result of all past failures and the harbinger of all future failures. and i am faced with several options: do i accept the days failures and write them off as part of the process? do i let this day's failures be the root of tomorrow's? do i allow the fear to consume me? do i keep forging ahead in the remainder hours of the day? do i just let it be for the day and call tomorrow a new day? i'm fairly certain letting this day ruin the rest of them is a bad idea, however, this is the option that seems inevitable today. so, instead, i'm trying to face the fear. call it what it is, and hopefully move forward. tomorrow.
because i fear today is lost.
8.25.2010
dorothy made me do it
after assigning ten books and numerous essays last week, my professor gave us a brief instruction for reading the aforementioned books: (and i paraphrase) "when you come across something in your reading that makes you think: stop. if it is on page 23, don't read the rest of the book. stop and think about what you've read. if you have one good idea all semester, you have succeeded."
so, my goal this week was to have one cogent thought. thankfully, i had a couple. however, i'm not sure if any of them constitute "one good idea." they are more like a few good amoeba-ideas.
today, i decided to run my errands on foot since the heat broke, the skies opened up, and it felt like greenville (sans the abundant farie rings i hear tell of). it was one of those soggy days that keeps you attempting to breathe under water. good for the skin. good for the grey cells--keeps them lubricated.
one of the essays i read this week left me thinking: "translation: literature and letters" by octavio paz. ironically, it is a translation from spanish, so it makes the reading even more faceted. the essay speaks not of the impossibility of translation (even though he acknowledges most scholars believe this impossibility exists), but of the unique outcomes of translation, and the act of creation which occurs when a text is translated. his use of the term "translation" begins to broaden as the essay develops to the point where he proposes that "no text can be completely original because language itself, in its very essence, is already a translation: first from the nonverbal world and then because each sign and each phrase is a translation of another sign, another phrase. however, the inverse of this reasoning is also entirely valid: all texts are originals because each translation has its own distinctive character. up to a point, each translation is a creation and thus constitutes a unique text."
ok. that's the background. my point is to establish that his use of translation is not only referring to a dictionary in hand, linear, reproduction of a text from spanish to english; but an understanding of a text even in one's mother tongue. the explanation of what we mean by a phrase requires the use of another phrase (another paraphrase of his idea--if you're following this: a phrase to describe a phrase that was originally a phrase! a translation if you will--have i lost you?)
well, now that we're all relatively on the same page with this paz fellow, here's the interesting part: (he quotes an englishman quoting a frenchman--we're marinating in irony now): translators "should make themselves invisible behind the texts and, if fully understood, the texts will speak for themselves." and here's where i make MY point: performers of all types are translators of text. when an actor or musician steps on stage, he or she is translating a text for an audience. going back to mr. paz's (consulting my strunk and white) text: "each translation is a creation and thus constitutes a unique text." the goal of a great performer is to make him or herself invisible, and allow the text to speak for itself. all the while, embracing the act of translation as an act of creation with the outcome of a uniquely personal text.
this is not deconstruction in its pejorative sense! i can't help but think of dorothy sayers and her thesis that all humans are creators because we are the product of The Creator. this thesis is the soul of WHY we "translate" as humans. it is the beautiful symmetry of secular and sacred at the heart of all truth.
now i shall ponder the epic mysteries of dorothy's journey through oz. i'm sure to find something there.
so, my goal this week was to have one cogent thought. thankfully, i had a couple. however, i'm not sure if any of them constitute "one good idea." they are more like a few good amoeba-ideas.
today, i decided to run my errands on foot since the heat broke, the skies opened up, and it felt like greenville (sans the abundant farie rings i hear tell of). it was one of those soggy days that keeps you attempting to breathe under water. good for the skin. good for the grey cells--keeps them lubricated.
one of the essays i read this week left me thinking: "translation: literature and letters" by octavio paz. ironically, it is a translation from spanish, so it makes the reading even more faceted. the essay speaks not of the impossibility of translation (even though he acknowledges most scholars believe this impossibility exists), but of the unique outcomes of translation, and the act of creation which occurs when a text is translated. his use of the term "translation" begins to broaden as the essay develops to the point where he proposes that "no text can be completely original because language itself, in its very essence, is already a translation: first from the nonverbal world and then because each sign and each phrase is a translation of another sign, another phrase. however, the inverse of this reasoning is also entirely valid: all texts are originals because each translation has its own distinctive character. up to a point, each translation is a creation and thus constitutes a unique text."
ok. that's the background. my point is to establish that his use of translation is not only referring to a dictionary in hand, linear, reproduction of a text from spanish to english; but an understanding of a text even in one's mother tongue. the explanation of what we mean by a phrase requires the use of another phrase (another paraphrase of his idea--if you're following this: a phrase to describe a phrase that was originally a phrase! a translation if you will--have i lost you?)
well, now that we're all relatively on the same page with this paz fellow, here's the interesting part: (he quotes an englishman quoting a frenchman--we're marinating in irony now): translators "should make themselves invisible behind the texts and, if fully understood, the texts will speak for themselves." and here's where i make MY point: performers of all types are translators of text. when an actor or musician steps on stage, he or she is translating a text for an audience. going back to mr. paz's (consulting my strunk and white) text: "each translation is a creation and thus constitutes a unique text." the goal of a great performer is to make him or herself invisible, and allow the text to speak for itself. all the while, embracing the act of translation as an act of creation with the outcome of a uniquely personal text.
this is not deconstruction in its pejorative sense! i can't help but think of dorothy sayers and her thesis that all humans are creators because we are the product of The Creator. this thesis is the soul of WHY we "translate" as humans. it is the beautiful symmetry of secular and sacred at the heart of all truth.
now i shall ponder the epic mysteries of dorothy's journey through oz. i'm sure to find something there.
8.16.2010
book lists and other things that make my head hurt
my book list has come in. now, when my ship comes in.....we'll save that for another day.
for those of you that might find this of interest (for those that don't--humor me will you? i'm a pathetic mess here in big D, and i'm just looking for some affirmation):
The Poetics of Space
some look more manageable than others; some look more interesting than others; and some make me clutch my hair in abject terror (hence the head hurt). the last book on the list looks to make my heart sing. i started reading it, and although my virtual dictionary has had the champagne smashed over its bow, my heart started to sing (even if tentatively, and with the accompaniment of a sluggish, hot dog fingered bass player). but imagination, phenomenology, housework, and logos are weaving themselves into an anemic harmony that might become a one hit wonder.
some look more manageable than others; some look more interesting than others; and some make me clutch my hair in abject terror (hence the head hurt). the last book on the list looks to make my heart sing. i started reading it, and although my virtual dictionary has had the champagne smashed over its bow, my heart started to sing (even if tentatively, and with the accompaniment of a sluggish, hot dog fingered bass player). but imagination, phenomenology, housework, and logos are weaving themselves into an anemic harmony that might become a one hit wonder.
8.12.2010
when you step out your front door
last week i stepped out of my front door (well, actually it was my garage), got in the drivers seat of my car, and followed a blue and orange rental truck for 18 hours on its way to dallas, texas. all the way here i wondered why i would leave friends, a barn-get away, familiarity, and a steady income to enter into this unknown. besides the obvious (going to school--again), there is a good answer: because if i didn't, it would be wrong. i've not felt so sure that something was so right for so long with so many reasons to say no. i'm not very adventurous, i'm terrified of meeting new people, i'm afraid of everything, i don't generally live on the edge financially (when i reach 5,000 in my checking account, i'm broke), and i frankly wasn't interested in going to school again.
for the last few years i became discontent with my career (yes, i have a career--weird). i was ready to quit and get a job at starbucks. i wanted to do something--anything--different. a year ago i went to peru, and survived 10 days in or near the amazon rain forest. i took a backpack. i took very few showers (and when i did get one it was cold). i slept on the front porch of a school perched out over the amazon river right by the "bucket" (feel free to ask me about the night all the used toilet paper ended up in my bed). i was hungry, tired, dirty. it was the happiest i'd been in years. nothing i needed mattered anymore. i went to sleep one cold night on the front of a dirty boat, and woke up to the sun rising over the amazon river and pink dolphins arching out of the water. everything i needed i had in that moment. and it was enough.
so i decided it was time to suck it up. i would like my job--no matter what. i would do the very best i could--no matter what. i would work hard--no matter what. i would put aside my fears and complaints (against everyone and especially GOD) and excuses and i would suck it up. if i could live out of a backpack on the amazon and like it, why couldn't i do my job and like it? if GOD could call me to peru for 10 days and give me courage and joy, why couldn't he call me to teach and give me courage and joy? it made perfect sense.
i started liking my job. it didn't happen overnight. it happened though, and i didn't realize it. i was too busy working. so i applied to school in a field i never imagined possible for me, to a program that was clearly beyond my reach. i didn't believe it would happen, and neither did anyone else (thankfully, they didn't tell me that until later), but i was content with that because i liked my job.
so here i am back in peru. i have my backpack (it's got a little more in it this time around), and i might wake up in the morning with toilet paper in my bed. but this is where i am today, and it's where i'm going to continue to suck it up and enjoy the journey. because who knows, maybe tomorrow the sun will rise and there will be purple dolphins. and that will be enough. and it will be all i need. and i will be thankful for the simple gift of this opportunity.
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