Haikus

Reading through my poems today. Brings me joy.
Think I'll share a few haikus I've written most recently. (They're not related.)

1)

Some people curse you,

but you were useful to me.

Thanks Inhibition.

2)

I am PhotoGirl.

Any superpowers? No.

But I look epic.

3)

Woke after bad dreams,

Now I write to forget them.

Tomorrow: wear cape.

©Ellen H. 2012

Characters and change.

            Gee thanks, Netflix. In the past few months, I’ve watched more TV series episodes than usual. With this change, I’ve realized what bothers me about TV/book series and stand-alone movies/books: the amount of character development. Here’s the difference: in order to perpetuate a series and keep conflict between characters, the characters must develop slowly, if at all. In contrast, a movie and character-focused book are most fulfilling if there is a marked change in the protagonist and antagonists. And I’ll tell you what: the lack of significant progress in series really bothers me.

            Take two TV characters that serve the same purpose: Sheldon from Big Bang Theory and Barney from How I Met Your Mother. (Actually, the whole HIMYM series feels like it never progresses, but I won’t go there.) Both guys are main—but not primary—characters who frustrate those on- and off-screen alike and create humor by shock-value. Their conflict is vital to the series and their humor is vital to its flow. They are a constant for the show, insurance for however long the series lasts. But time and time again, the same type of jokes is told and people end up unsatisfied. This is lamented, but the other characters and the viewers are just meant to get frustrated, then laugh and shrug, saying, “That’s just how he is.”

            I suppose this is true to life. People have enduring personality traits that often play out in predictable ways. However, the other end of the spectrum of how people work exists too. Stand-alone books (and short series, like trilogies) show this. The protagonist must change as the events happen to him. If he didn’t, the readers wouldn’t find it believable. Because life changes people.

C’mon, you protest, enduring flaws make people realistic and relatable. Again, I agree in principle. Still, this is where my personality, even unreasonably so, has a hard time. I strongly want to believe that people can improve, and will. If they don’t, and we just laugh with (at?) them, aren’t we essentially condoning those flaws? We’re implying we want those imperfections—no matter how much they hurt others—to persist, because they amuse us. When I keep up with a show with such characters (and I do), I'm indicating that I relate.  Implying just how deeply screwed-up I am.

Yeah, yeah, it’s just TV, and comedy at that. But deep down, I can’t shake how much this bugs me. It’s like either I’ve lost hope in the human race or I’m the butt of some grand joke by the show’s producers. As the credits roll again, I just want to shout: Change is possible! Do not limit yourself to a box—not yours, nor anyone else’s. If your flaws hurt others, especially repeatedly, seriously try to improve! If anyone, I promise to try!

Perhaps the catch here is that the TV shows I mentioned are comedies. Viewers don’t watch primarily to see some life-changing experience, but to be amused. In a decent-sized novel or full-length movie, however, usually the conflict has to be big enough to stand alone, which would naturally deeply affect the main characters—otherwise, why read or watch? Maybe dramas are more my thing. The conflict there typically is of a more serious nature, right? … Maybe. The thing is, BBT and HIMYM deal with important bottom-line problems too, but just in sillier settings and with sillier commentary. Friendships, love interests, self-esteem, goals in life… in fact, these are more relevant conflicts to my life than surviving on an island or solving crimes.

I’m not sure how to end this. I still want to watch these shows (though not daily) but they still bug me, and probably always will. Ha, I guess this character isn’t going to change amidst conflict… for now.
--Ellen

[Reading List update: Finished Bridget Jones’ Diary, Eat Pray Love, and now that I’m sick of first-person female contemporary novels, I’m about to begin Dune, classic sci-fi book.]

Summer Reading List - In Progress

Many months after school is out, I am a still a nerd.

As I was approaching college graduation, I realized that I hadn't done much reading for leisure, sick as I was of reading for requirements. Now that, academically speaking, I'm a free bird, I've decided it's time to take up the beloved hobby once again. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Doesn't mean I'll read all of them, but I'll be open minded. You may see that I am tending toward the famous or of particular personal interest, because part of my intent is to be more well-read and relevant. Here's my list of completed books so far this summer:

1) Wicked, by MacGuire. A popular musical is loosely based on this alternate Oz story.
2) The Chocolate War, by Cormier.
3) Deadly Currents, by Groundwater. Fictional thriller set in realistic, present-day Upper Arkansas Valley (my region).
4) In Progress: One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Marquez. Translated into English from Spanish. Author went on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

If you're interested in my opinions on any of these, let me know. Otherwise, I'd love to hear your reading picks!


Thoughtfully yours,
Ellen

The result of a fun writing prompt.

Especially pertinent to this blog's title, I am sharing the result of a prompt from a writer's group I attended today. We free-write for all prompts, so that means you keep your pen going, you don't cross out and you don't judge what you wrote. Except for a few minor edits, I have left it alone. For this particular prompt, we had 10 minutes for "You were just told that a spaceship crashed into Cristo’s Over the River drape in the Arkansas River." Read on for my fictional, satirical, locally-relevant work. (For my sake, imagine that OTR is already built):

 *     *     *

Who knew a spaceship would become a rivership?

Upon hearing the news, I imagine the catastrophe in my mind’s eye: a ripped drape, a broken spaceship, the gawking tourists. Karma had struck Mr. Cristo and the heavens had spoken: no Over The River project would be blessed.

As I inwardly survey the wreckage, questions fill my mind and the gaps. Are there people aboard this ship? Or is it a UFO, now clearly identified in the light of day? Will traffic be stopped in the canyon for days, like seems to happen often? Can rafters get out before the swift current smooshes the raft and dumps out its contents?

Of course, the hullabaloo in Salida will be the Over The River wreckage, the political aftermath, and more local fighting to ensue. The town of Crestone had begun séances, the informant told us, to plead the universe to bring peace as well as protection from extraterrestrials.

Traffic would be bad because of the tourists, not just efforts to clean up the mess, and all the reporters staking out to catch a glimpse of any survivors on board. I want to see the carnage myself, to not rely on secondhand information, but inevitable traffic jams stave off my impulse.

Of course, economically, the local commissioners secretly couldn’t be happier: all those reporters, extra tourists and the opportunity to erect a someday-historic sign: “Site of the 2012 spaceship crash”. Maybe the Mayan’s were right: there’s something strange about this year.

 
*     *     *

I resolve to fight.

I stoop down to pick up the piece of mail I had dropped from my full arms. My flowered summer dress wafts around my legs brightly in the long, dull hall.
Such a petty thing to be doing, the prim, little secretary picking up the mail, in her dry but secure job.

It struck me then just how humbled I felt and how unexpected this job is. I have a college degree in Spanish and I'm a receptionist? Getting mail for an office as one of my primary duties? Too easy. Not to be arrogant but I say that to preserve my self-confidence, my... potential. Am I settling? Sure, I'm learning stuff, but it's far from what I want to do long-term. Then again, I never expected to "have it made" right out of college, doing work that involves my passions perfectly. I wanted a variety of experiences in work, especially medically-related, and that's what I'm getting. However, in that moment, I was suddenly aware of reaching back to the floor when I'd rather be reaching above my head!

More than that, something about this stage of life, of such routine, has sucked up the artistic reflections I normally enjoy. I don't write in my journal like I used to, not even reaching for it to jot down the especially poignant ideas. I can't remember the last time I wrote a poem. Without a piano where I live, musical musings waft away, unheard. Certainly, it's not the marriage aspect of my life that's done that--that part is great. But unlike my college days, busy though they were, this kind of work-life routine has taken much of my desire to do right-brained hobbies.

"Most men live lives of quiet desperation" wrote Thoreau. Picking up that dropped envelope made me feel that way. I've called that feeling other things as well-- a "dark force", for one. It tugs at my heart with nowhere to go; it stretches me out in a tight space. Know what I mean?

So I resolve to fight back. It's not that I don't have things to reflect on. It's not that I've stopped enjoying writing, art and music. I just need to fight to keep those hobbies that I find so fulfilling, and seek out what inspires me. That means more alone times outside. A set time to go to my parent's house to play my beloved piano and worship. Holding off dishes long enough to write down that intriguing thought. Whatever it is. In fact, I'm putting off grocery shopping right now so I can finally write this blog.

I simply refuse to be someone who gets so used to routine that hobbies are a thing of the past and work is the only thing to talk (or complain) about. I want to feel more "me" than I have been lately.

Do you?