Some words are just loaded.
i got a man and he’s so good to me, la la la la
For once, being happy isn’t killing my writing. My knuckles ache tonight, and I’m nowhere near done with my story. I need to finish the whole thing, or at least a good chunk, to send to my discussion group for tomorrow. Procrastinating is obviously still a demon in my life, but at least I’m writing now. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this, having so many ideas in my head I have to keep switching from this story to that journal to that list and so on… It feels so good to be overwhelmed with ideas. Ever since my computer crashed this summer, even starting to write felt depressing. I found no joy with it. Now it’s coming back.
It helps that I had a really good advising session today. My music advisor is an asshole, so I prefer to email him rather than meet with him. But I’m required to go the English office for advising for my creative writing minor, otherwise I can’t register for classes, so today I went. I had the session with the guy who was just made head of the department, and he’s also my fiction professor, and we ended up having a good conversation. As a result, I’m taking far more English classes than I originally planned for next semester. I have priority registration on Sunday, and at the moment there are about 7 classes in the Excel schedule I’ve been making. I’ll have to drop some, but I just can’t decide which ones, because they’re all great. I will also have a Tuesday/Thursday-heavy schedule for once, instead of the other way around, and I should be done really early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. All of a sudden, life is good. Even my concussion and my neck are healing.
The story I’m writing now I’ve had in my head forever. It usually takes me a good year or two to write a story I’ve memorized in my head. So I knew exactly what the interesting points were, some of the lines of dialogue, the visuals, the motifs, the theme, etc. But as I’m writing now, I’m seeing all of my anxieties transfer on. I think they still work with the story, but I’m not sure, because I feel so overcome by them right now. This is the first week I’ve been able to say this phrase, and I’m having a lot of trouble with it: “My boyfriend.” It’s on Facebook, so it’s real, and apparently when someone requests to change your relationship status, you get a message that says “[Name] requests that you add him as your boyfriend.” I beamed, as if it were a personal message from him to me. I’m a little bit of a freak.
I really want to say that phrase, because it’s like a really tempting slice of cake. A cake that you’ve seen in the window for days and you really want to eat, and then finally you get to buy it (and it’s just magically not stale, days later) and eat it. But you’re scared to eat it, because it’s probably about ten million calories. And I’m scared to say it, because I don’t want to go and rush things like I always do. I shouldn’t be, because it’s true. It has to be. He decided it to be so, and I wanted it, and when both parties want and one decides, it becomes fact. But if you eat the cake, it will never, ever taste as good as you imagined, and you’ll probably feel gross after you finish, because you just ate diabetes. I don’t want to seem overly happy or rub him in anyone’s face, even accidentally, because I hate it when people do that around me. But I’m just so giddy about the fact. On my superficial level, I just want to shout it from the rooftops because I’m just so damn happy about it. And on a serious level, I just feel good about myself and him.
I finished my Creed for this year today. It took me weeks to write, which has never happened. I don’t know what that means.
bee-tea-dubs, the title of this entry comes from a santana song featuring mary j. blige, sleepy brown, and big boi, called “my man.” and it’s actually good, so you should listen to it.
colorblind
Race: a socially constructed category composed of people who share biologically transmitted traits that members of a society consider important.
Ethnicity: shared cultural heritage
Minority group: any category of people distinguished by physical or cultural differences that a society sets apart and subordinates.
Not a number issue, but a power issue
I often forget that I am black.
Then, when I remember, the next thing I forget is that I am not black. I am half black and half white. I am mixed. Biracial, multiethnic.
This is, sadly, not that uncommon in my daily life. Or maybe that’s not sad. While culture and ethnicity are important to identity, I don’t think race is nearly as important. Skin color should just be an aesthetic thing, like when you’re picking out an outfit or makeup and something looks particularly gorgeous because it brings out your cocoa skin or your blue eyes or whatever. But maybe it’s strange, because remembering your skin color is one (though obviously not the only, nor the most important) way to remind yourself of your culture and ethnicity, and to find others to identify with.
I usually remember after I’ve hooked up with someone. Part of this is my very complicated ethnic and cultural background, I think. It’s also the media, because you know on TV and in movies, white people only date and marry white people, black people only date and marry black people, Latinos with Latinos, Asians with Asians, etc. I don’t feel all that “black.” I don’t know if anyone does. I don’t know how it would feel. But not growing up with a black family, I guess it’s not the immediate association I jump to when I’m thinking of my ethnic identity. It is the culture to which I belong that I have been least exposed to in my life.
When I process the hookup, or the date, if I’m actually being that respectable, I marvel at how wondrous and interesting it is that the person wanted to date/hook up with me. Since college started, the majority of the people I have hooked up with or dated have been white. I don’t really care, since I like who I like, not who I choose to like, and that stuff doesn’t really matter. But while it doesn’t matter, it also does, and when I think about it, I become paranoid wondering why they picked me. Is it that I seem exotic for not being white? Am I just the type of girl (ethnically speaking–you know how we all have the types of people we’re attracted to, and racial and ethnic identity is sometimes one of those things) they like? Or do they just not see the color? It’s not that I think people are shallow. It’s that we’re a color-based society, and sometimes it just baffles me. Are we all actually colorblind? Are we just colorblind in terms of who we like? Do we pick based on color?
It’s one of those things like wondering whether someone likes you for your looks or your personality. Like if I date a white person, I wonder if they just see me as “white.” Maybe they don’t but they think I’m interesting or I “act white.” Maybe they don’t see a thing and it’s just personality. Maybe I’m just really exotic looking. It’s so stupid, but I don’t understand how it works.
another meme
I can’t concentrate on real entries right now. Here’s a meme I stole from Holly.
Go to http://www.urbandictionary.com and type in your answer to each question in the search box, then write the FIRST definition it gives you.
1.) Your name:Hannah
a girl with class, grace, poise and elegance.
2.) Your age:20
Bag of Weed, costs $20.00 dollars and is enough to make 4 fat joints.
3.) One of your friends:Tracy
1.) The unisex name Tracy \t-ra-cy\ is pronounced TRAY-see. It is of Irish Gaelic origin,one meaning is warlike. Another originating as a nickname for Theresa “late summer”
2.) A term referring to one who has many contradicting qualities, characteristics or traits usually in an EITHER/OR basis ie; Nice, cruel, Stubborn, Compliant, Sparkly, Dark, Social, isolated, Wishful, hopeless, innocent, sinful, naieve, cunning, proud, ashamed, determined, indifferent, generous, glutton, giving, selfish, trustworthy, dishonest, good, evil etc
3.) One who some would say posesses the cognitive, social, logical skills of a 5 year old– think about this: 5 year olds are pretty much masters of all those areas and more so than adults the majority of the time!!!
Cheer up buttercup it wasn’t your fault. Come out of the house, stand out in a crowd, Not like you knew that would happen you’re the sweetest girl I know…. Oh! you did….well they deserved it and funny how they came to you for advice about what you had caused!! Pretty calculating and yet executed with integrity and class although somewhat evil it was flawless and very kind of you to offer a bandaid for the wound so to speak. That was a 10 point tracy girl!
4.) What should you be doing? Calling the doctor
Someone who puts up with an ever more impatient public demanding quick fixes for innocuous conditions while facing scrutiny from those who judge service, cost-accountability, and adherence to legal definitions of medicine.
5.) Your favourite colour: purple
Extremely potent marijuana, specifically marijuana buds that have a purple hue to them. Also accompanied by a fragant, usually fruity smell and mad perma-grin.
6.) Your birthplace: Tucson
-A city of almost 500,000 people, half of them Mexicans and/or homeless.
-Always tons of traffic because there are no freeways.
-If you don’t have a car, you’ll literally die of boredom.
-A 99 cent store at every corner
-A place where I thought only University of Arizona students moved to, because no one else in their right mind should otherwise.
-On the bright side, with low humidity levels (30% and down), the weather kicks ass.
A place in Arizona that serves one purpose; to educate the young people that decide to spend four years in a city 3 degrees cooler than hell. Of course, Wildcat Football is heating up!
Hey let’s go watch UCLA lose in Tucson at Homecoming again.
7.) Last person you talked to: Sara
A person who is very hot and has the greatest personality ever! In hebrew Sara means princess. There for you should treat her as if she was one! Sara is also a very irresistable person.
A special type of dance that is both sexual and orgasmic.
Fool, I was dancing sara all over that beezy last night!
8.) Last thing you had to drink: Water
The 4th element required to summon Captain Planet
EARTH
FIRE
WIND
WATER
HEART
GO PLANET!
By your powers combined, I am Captain Planet!
9.) Your nickname: Hanninha, Banana, Sarah Hannah
banana definition:
An asian person who acts like they are white. Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.
Quang doesn’t know what Dim Sum is? man that guy’s a Banana.
interview meme
Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you 5 questions of a very personal nature.
3. You will update your LJ with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this and an offer to interview someone else in the post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them 5 questions.
1) Describe a dream you had once that you’ve never forgotten and will probably never forget. My sister, her friend Kim, and I are hanging out in some neighborhood that is vaguely ours. I ask about one house, and they tell me it’s the witch’s house. I think they’re full of it, because they’re older and like to make fun. They dare me to go over and look in the window, and I do. I see nothing, and just as I’m leaving, a woman passes by the window. A huge shiver goes down my spine. It’s the witch! She grabs me. I scream, and her claw-like fingers are really creepy. Kim and Mimi scream, “Bob!” Bob is the principal of my elementary school, so of course he would be the one to save me, right? Weird. He comes and saves me. Then, pop! The three of us are in the woods, and Bob and the witch have disappeared. The trees are so gigantic I can’t look over them. Then I realize they’re not trees. They’re gigantic statues of every character from “The Wizard of Oz.” Then I wake up.
2) Where do you see yourself in ten years? There’s a difference between where I want to be and where I probably will be. Let’s say this. In ten years I’ve published a few books. I’ve been married a couple years and I have maybe two kids. Or one. Two Master’s degrees, maybe working on a third or on a doctorate. I’ll probably, sadly, be working in the education field, which I’ve always said I’ll never do. Or, hopefully, in a non-profit, museum, or creative setting, doing some with youth and the arts.
3) If you were to write an autobiography on your life up until now, what would you call it? Life in Writing.
4) Name one big thing you have to look forward to in the next few weeks, months or years. Falling in love.
5) Which person, with whom you have lost contact for any reason (death included), do you wish you could get back in touch with? Is it fair to say my birthfather, even though I have no idea who he is, if he’s alive, and if he knows I exist? Actually, in all likelihood he has no idea I exist, but the other two questions still stand.
penetrate this
I have thick skin! Where did this come from?
I’ve been in writing workshops and writing classes on and off for years, and I think I have a pretty good grasp on what it’s all about. I like workshopping. I liked learning how to critique other people’s work, because it made me a better reader and writer. I like getting critiques, because it helped me learn that not everything I write is perfectly perfect, hard as that was–and still is–to admit. But I always felt a little stung when people would make comments. How can you not?
In 2005, Norma Fox Mazer wrote on one of her critiques for me something to the tune of, “You have a great talent for writing. When will you use it in a story that matters?” That haunts me so much, and it hurt my feelings, even though deep down I knew she was right. My stories didn’t really have points, partly because I always hated writing short fiction. They were just exercises. Well done or not, maybe, but that’s all they were most of the time. It’s taken me until nowish to really understand and attempt to correct that. I’m still not sure I have, but I think I’m getting there.
So at Friday discussion, we decided that three of us would send short stories to the group instead of doing a reading. Two of us are taking the intro to fiction writing class here (though we have different professors, sadly) and one just likes to write. Then on Friday we spent about four hours hanging out, eating brownies, and going over and critiquing them. I hated my story when I sent it to them. It was the one I had handed into my fiction TA earlier that week, and I had finished it kind of fast, because writing that sort of crappy draft was simpler than finishing one of the two much better stories I’m mapping out and planning. So when we started going over mine, I wasn’t really sure what to expect.
It was casual but also still workshoppy, because my Friday group is full of the most intelligent (and still normal, fun, and really cool) students I’ve met at U of A. I got some really good feedback, better than I’ve gotten in any workshop since writing camp, probably, and also better than that, because the story was better than any I submitted at camp. It beat, in most ways, the feedback I got in my poetry workshop over the summer, except that in my poetry class I also had someone who had a master’s degree in poetry who could critique pretty harshly on craft if she wanted to. It was nice just flipping through, listening to people’s perceptions on things, and being allowed to talk to answer questions and discuss my story. It was like a halfway between workshopping and analyzing my story as if we had read it for an English class and we were taking it apart to look at theme, character development, etc. It was perfect.
Then I realized that even when they were criticizing or saying negative things, I really didn’t care. I mean, I cared, because I want to make the story better, and I noted things accordingly. But it was the first time ever that I felt a complete emotional detachment from the statements, which is so good. That’s what should happen. You should have a thick skin. I’m so pleased with myself.
cliché girls
What happened to “Gossip Girl?” The show, I mean. I haven’t been watching on Monday nights because I have work, but I do like to catch up by watching it online later. I’m watching the fifth episode of the season now, and frankly, it’s getting annoying. I had some respect for the show when it started. It’s nothing like the book series, which is another thing I had respect for….when it started.
This episode is such a gigantic cliché it’s ridiculous. (Spoiler alert.) This whole Dan trying to write short stories is done very, very badly. First of all, if he’s that developed of a writer, he shouldn’t be asking so many silly questions. Secondly, if he’s ever tried being a writer before, which is the premise, he shouldn’t be forgetting the difference between fiction and non-fiction. Every single thing about this episode is a cliché. I know that’s the point of the show, but it was taken to a new level. Using someone for a story and having that misunderstood? Being mean or a bully because you have daddy issues? Daddy issues stemming from “killing” your mother when she gave birth to you? Done, done, overdone, burnt as toast. Bahhhh. I want a good show to watch!
I get that it’s overdramatic and that it was created by the guy who created “The OC.” That’s why I didn’t really watch “The OC.” That’s its style, part of its charm, whatever. It’s the world for the show. It’s no different than how “Pushing Daisies” is saturated with color and exists in a world that is anachronistically retro and modern at the same time. It’s cool. Everyone has their aesthetic, and if you have a consistent world in your show, I’ll resepect it, regardless of whether it appeals to me. Clearly I’m more a “Pushing Daisies” (it’s like Tim Burton, circa “Big Fish,” directing “Amelie”) girl than an “OC” and “Gossip Girl” fan. Melodrama is acceptable. Cliché, when not ironic, is not.
