Over a year and half

Since.
Commencement.
Graduation.

Graduation into what?

My brain has turned to mush.
I live day to day, week to week, barely thinking.
Not the way I used to.
And yet exactly the way I used to.
Before Westmont.

The words simmer under a surface, yet struggle to get out.

In the end
I just feel stupid
And
Uncreative


Maybe I'm just lazy, because I have to practice in order to communicate
Better

And if I am just lazy, then I have become someone I hate.
Always asking what can I do to get by
Never reading the newspaper
Always wanting to look a certain way
Never having enough things

I do not want to be a product of this America, yet I can feel its claws sinking into my skin.

Is it possible to live in such a way that I don't care what other people think of me? If you know how, please tell me.


I want to write more. Not just on this silly thing, but really write. What is it that I have to offer to this world?
I think I've completely forgotten.

I want my life to feel magical.

Far away, far away
I wanna go far away
To a new life on a new shoreline
Where the water is blue
And the people are new
To another island
In another life
----------------
Now playing: Ingrid Michaelson - Far Away
via FoxyTunes

car

awesome.

that is all.

The Section Quartet

I have a new favorite band.



This is The Section Quartet. 2 violins, a viola, and a cello. I discovered them by watching the film Whip It! (which btw is an excellent coming of age story. Ellen Page is fantastic as always). I simply loved the score to the film and was delightfully surprised to discover that it was a group, not just a person. Their album "Fuzzbox" is a compilation of covers of rock bands, to sum up. Hope you enjoy the video.

Jane Jane Jane

Whether or not you read Jane Austen, this blog post provides an excellent analysis of what has happened to not only the modern novel, but most especially the plight of the modern novel once it reaches "public domain" status. He also makes a point about how Austen's novels (like Pride and Prejudice) have been turned into brands and are enjoyed for the brand status, rather than as an enjoyable story that is written exceedingly well.

But with the possible exception of the New Testament, no other seminal text has been so greedily trawled for evidence of the reader’s own transcendent superiority. Pride and Prejudice is the kind of book certain people make a point of visibly carrying with them in public, exhibiting it like a designer label. Or a weapon.

Seriously, I couldn't have said it better myself. Go read the post. The first half is the analysis, the second half is a summary/commentary on P&P itself.

Bingley bravely urges him on, pointing out that Elizabeth Bennet is both very pretty and at present without a partner. Darcy looks over to where Lizzy is seated, and either not knowing or not caring that she can easily overhear him, declares:

“She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

So here’s my message of good will to all those aggrieved single women, smoldering with affronted self-esteem, who go angrily about their lives carrying tote bags that read AN ELIZABETH IN A DARCY-LESS WORLD: Ladies, I can help you! I know for a fact that there are very, very many men who would be only too happy to step reluctantly into your life, offend all your friends en masse, and then insult you in particular. You just say the word, I’ll have a whole rugby team of Darcys at your doorstep.

But then, I’m willing to bet these women meet such men all the time. And I’m guessing that they, like Lizzy, don’t recognize a potential Great Romantic Hero in any of them; or maybe they do, and that’s the point. They don’t want a potential romantic hero; they want one who’s already fully fitted out and ready to drive off the showroom floor. God forbid they should have to do any of the body work themselves. Or that, like Lizzy, they’d have to recognize some of their own failings into the bargain. What, are you fuggin’ kidding me…?

BWAHAHAHAA!! THANK YOU!! Seriously, those types of girls are just as bad, if not worse, then the girls who are obsessed with Twilight and think that is quality literature.

Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. Merry Christmas, prepare to die.

I've been noticing lately that I'm not posting all that often. So I've decided that this blog will now be the official place where I post the random shit I find on the internet. With the occasional existential poetry. Yes, this is a good plan.

And even though New Year's is still a week a way, people are already finding ways to say goodbye to the decade. One of which includes 40 Things That Were Popular at the Beginning of the Decade That Aren't Popular Anymore. It's quite funny. Go check it out. I think my favorite part is that things people were afraid of, like Anthrax and SARS, are on the list. Who even remembers if anything ever came of it? These two potential "epidemics" were sort of the reason why I didn't get a swine flu shot or a regular flu shot this year. I choose to defy mass hysteria.

And to comment on the title of this post, this is a new fun joke for Darren and I. Take the infamous phrase from the movie, replace "you killed my father" with another happier statement and voila. The best way to confuse friends. Or at least get a laugh. Or maybe just a one shoulder shake chuckle.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Funnyhouse of a Negro

The last play of this semester's CalArts season is Funnyhouse of a Negro by Adrienne Kennedy.

When I first read the play, I didn't get it. But seeing it...it reminds me why we do theatre. This performance that I experience tonight was so good (SO GOOD) that I feel completely speechless. I was on the verge of tears during their curtain call.

Design, direction, and acting were all cohesive and spectacular. The story (or lack of story) hits you hard in the gut and makes you think.

This is why I do theatre.