Dear All,
This is a conglomeration of blog posts that I have begun, and summarily left to be finished at some later date... the first of which was written over three months ago around the New Year. I have decided to clear the baffles, as it were, and post all of my half-assed dimwittery here.
Enjoy.
_____
I've written a chapter. A whole damn chapter of about 25,000 words on one topic. Mostly one topic, though I might have strayed a bit... gone off on a tangent or two... been a little preachy... told one or two long-winded stories... and bored the pants off the readers, who by the way, have read far better things in their lives and still have the patience to give me feedback. God bless them. (NOTE: It ended there.)
_____
I have had a realization, a few in fact, since I begun this journey through academia four and a half years ago. The one that has become less truth and more fact in my mind is the realization that I am not the best at what I do, and despite my early life dreams of changing the world through the myriad of professions that I have attempted, I do not ever want to be the best at what I do. I do not ever want to be at the pinnacle of my profession, nor do I wish to be famous for it. I don't want to write the great American novel or play or pilot for the greatest TV show to have ever graced the medium. I don't ever want the feeling of what comes afterwards, ever.
Bitter celebrity. The resentment that comes with being on the backside and downslope of success is so debilitating that you feel as if your life has ended and yet you still breathe. The world moves on and you stand still because all you see before you is downhill and uninspiring and the end of that wonderful high you once knew. (NOTE: I was remembering my life as a professional swing dancer, and all the crap that came with it.)
______
I've been quite busy recently. Now that one part of my life at the Shakespeare Institute is coming to a close, I think I can speak about it now. I've been the Technical Director for the "Shakespeare & Creativity" MA module... (NOTE: I didn't speak about it, for whatever reason. It's enough to say that in a few months it will be over and I can write about the experience.)
______
I wish that I could disappear into the background sometimes. I wish that I could walk down the street and be just as anonymous as I was on the streets of New York. I want to say, "I don't want to be responsible for you anymore. I've got me, my wife, my life, and my work... I can't deal with you too." (Note to future self -- this was said before any children are in the picture.)
I don't say this because I can't handle any of those things. In fact, I couldn't be happier with me, my wife, my life, and my work. It just seems that I have to hand-hold people who don't share my faith in me, or my ability to handle life. Sometimes it comes in the form of wanting to look out for me, saying to me that I should consider something a little easier for my work or my life. Sometimes it comes in the form of people not wanting to inconvenience me, so they dance around a subject so as not to make a conversation or interaction awkward. Sometimes it comes in the form of them wanting to "make me smile" or "cheer me up" and so they presume that I would enjoy such an interaction because they would enjoy it themselves if someone would only think to do it for them (nudge, nudge... nod's as good as a wink to a blind bat, eh? eh? eh?) I have to convince people of my confidence in myself.
Think about that one for a second. Convincing someone that you have confidence in anything, especially yourself, is surreal. It's like trying to convince a lifeguard that you weren't drowning, but were in fact just swimming, all while he is trying to drag you to shore. I guess the only thing I can do is relax and go with it, force a smile and tell them, "fine" and "no problem" as they condescend to me. I'm a grown man. I don't need hand-holding when a good kick in pants will do. I don't need to be tip-toed around, just say what's on your mind. I don't need to be cheered up by you, if I'm frowning while you are talking it probably has something to do with what you are saying to me and not an invitation to keep on spewing.
I appreciate the faith people do have in me. I really do, and I truly wish that I could repay the kindness. It is nice to know that you notice me, and are looking out for me, and that you got my back. I think I need to learn a little more about instilling confidence in those around me, enough for them to know that I got this and they need to stop worrying. I will ask for help, and I will be direct about it when I need it.
If you are reading this, it is highly unlikely that I am talking about you. People who treat me this way do not read this blog. I write it here to get it off my chest. Venting the exhaust, as it were. Don't take this personally, please.
______
Those earthly godfathers of heaven's lights,
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights,
Than those that walk, and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame;
And every godfather can give a name. -- Berowne (Biron) in Love's Labour's Lost (I.i)
Year 3, Day 177 - Words written: Enough for now.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
Monday, 29 December 2014
Year 3, Day 97: Shakespeare Institute -- I've had an idea, I just can't tell you about it yet.
I've been writing my PhD thesis. I haven't had much to say here because I've been writing over there, which is a good thing I suppose. I've tried writing over here several times, but my editing brain has deleted all those posts. I can't post anything of my topic online as I am afraid of people (read: other academics) sniping my ideas. It's a paranoid thing to think, I know, but it wouldn't be the first time that I got an idea... and then had it taken away from me. You want a story? Good thing I'm a storyteller.
In the spring of 2002, New York City's economy was still reeling from 9/11. I was a dance teacher at Dance Manhattan, and I was poor but still going out as much as I could to keep up with my social dance habit. I was like a drug dealer addicted to what I was selling. I spent most of my time at Swing 46 in those days, as I was one of their dance teachers who had gotten a life time 'get in for free' card... so, I got in for free every night of the week. One night at the bar, I was talking to one of the owners who was looking for a way to increase business on his Tuesday nights. Swing 46, on 46th street between 9th and 10th Ave, in New York City is a 7 night a week swing-band-and-dance supper club. He wasn't having trouble booking the bands, there were lots of them, he was having trouble paying them when nobody came through the door on Tuesdays. Maybe twenty to thirty people all night. He and his wife, who co-owned the joint, were paying live musicians every night to entertain their guests. This was one of the good places. Keeping artists and musicians employed. I said I could help with that, and he said he would pay me to be their arts director for a month to figure out how to make Tuesday nights a good night for them again. I would get paid to do this. I was not in a position to say 'no.'
Two weeks into the job and I hadn't produced a thing. In fact I spent most of my time online in the Swing 46 offices reading swing-dancer chat rooms (popular in those days) to see if I couldn't discover what they were all looking for. One in particular, Yehoodi.com, was, at the time, the most popular website for the New York City swing dance scene. What I gleaned from these two weeks in the office, was that all Lindy Hoppers were poor, the website was having trouble with its funding, every place that had dance nights always hosted a lesson that wasted good social dancing time (lessons usually lasted an hour at the beginning of the night), and there was no where to dance that was cheap. The door charges for anyplace that had good dance floors and good bands (it was mostly live music in those days) was $10 to $15 at least. Since I was sitting right next to two dance promoters I asked them, what did they think about running a dance night with just deejay-ed music (no band to pay), no lesson (no teacher to pay), and a cheap door charge. They said that getting dancers wasn't their problem, they'd always had three or four couples on their dance floor for the bands. They needed people buying dinner, ordering drinks, and spending money. I said the people who do that, follow the crowds. Give dancers a cheap place to dance on Tuesday nights with no bands, no lessons, just social dancing... and the crowds will follow. A "If you build it, they will come" selling point. They agreed.
The biggest problem they had was the promotion. I said, 'what if we post on Yehoodi?' They said they'd had bad experiences with people on that website complaining about their club (this was at the beginning of online trolls, and the owners did not like them). I asked, 'what if Yehoodi is involved directly?' They said, 'what do you mean?' I explained that Yehoodi was having problems funding their servers, and that if the club shared their door cost with the website, the guys who ran the website would promote the hell out of this place. They asked me to call and arrange a meeting.
It was an afternoon, sometime in spring (I wasn't paying attention to specific dates in those days), where the owners of Swing 46, Frank (one of the owners of Yehoodi), and I sat down at the bar. I only remember this because I was sitting down to a business deal, at a bar, in the middle of the morning. It was a first for me, and the visual is etched into my head. I was asked to lay out the plan to everyone involved and be a mediator between the two companies as they negotiated. They both wanted their concessions, and they both wanted to make money. Tuesday night was a dead night for Swing 46 anyway, so any more people in the club was a good thing. Yehoodi was reliant completely on monetary donations from a group of people who were habitually broke, it was currently in a downward financial spiral.
I don't resent what happened next. Far from it. Yehoodi.com started a deejay-ed night in a club and a city that was all about live music. The dancers had a great cheap place to dance, and the waning dance scene of NYC was revitalized a bit. The Frim Fram Jam was born, and expensive dance nights with bands started to die off (there are not nearly as many dance bands in NYC anymore). Though the club and Yehoodi eventually had a falling out, and the Frim Fram Jam moved elsewhere, this dance evening was a brain child of mine (combining social media/chat website with social dance) which had not been attempted before. Swing 46 and Yehoodi.com's Frim Fram Jam are both still going strong, and I can still get in for free at both of these joints, though it is much harder to make the commute from England. I helped make that happen... though I don't think even the current organizers of the Frim Fram Jam know why I am still on the guest list (Frank lives in San Francisco), and when I flash my 'get in for free' card at Swing 46 I get some really strange looks (most of the people watching the door there had never seen that card before.)
I don't say all of this because I want credit for the Frim Fram Jam, or for helping out Swing 46 and Yehoodi. That ship has sailed and I am really fine with the idea taking off and having a life of its own. I say all of this because I'd really like the credit for my next idea, and the next, and the next. I'd like to make a living off of them. I know I'll never be famous for them, because who is famous for having an idea anymore? I'd just like to be able to make a small living from them, those ideas of mine. I will eventually release these ideas into the wild, with my brand clearly seared into their backside, and someone somewhere will pay me large (read: modest) ridiculous (read: modest) stacks of cash (read: direct deposit) for my incredibly ingenious (read: slightly applicable) revelatory (read: more original than the other guy's) ideas for theatrical design. I've moved on from dancing to theatre design of Shakespeare and I've already said too much. I hope you enjoyed the story. I'd never written the whole thing down before, until just now.
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fearful porpentine. -- Hamlet (I.v)
Year 3, Day 97 - Words Written: 15,000+
In the spring of 2002, New York City's economy was still reeling from 9/11. I was a dance teacher at Dance Manhattan, and I was poor but still going out as much as I could to keep up with my social dance habit. I was like a drug dealer addicted to what I was selling. I spent most of my time at Swing 46 in those days, as I was one of their dance teachers who had gotten a life time 'get in for free' card... so, I got in for free every night of the week. One night at the bar, I was talking to one of the owners who was looking for a way to increase business on his Tuesday nights. Swing 46, on 46th street between 9th and 10th Ave, in New York City is a 7 night a week swing-band-and-dance supper club. He wasn't having trouble booking the bands, there were lots of them, he was having trouble paying them when nobody came through the door on Tuesdays. Maybe twenty to thirty people all night. He and his wife, who co-owned the joint, were paying live musicians every night to entertain their guests. This was one of the good places. Keeping artists and musicians employed. I said I could help with that, and he said he would pay me to be their arts director for a month to figure out how to make Tuesday nights a good night for them again. I would get paid to do this. I was not in a position to say 'no.'
Two weeks into the job and I hadn't produced a thing. In fact I spent most of my time online in the Swing 46 offices reading swing-dancer chat rooms (popular in those days) to see if I couldn't discover what they were all looking for. One in particular, Yehoodi.com, was, at the time, the most popular website for the New York City swing dance scene. What I gleaned from these two weeks in the office, was that all Lindy Hoppers were poor, the website was having trouble with its funding, every place that had dance nights always hosted a lesson that wasted good social dancing time (lessons usually lasted an hour at the beginning of the night), and there was no where to dance that was cheap. The door charges for anyplace that had good dance floors and good bands (it was mostly live music in those days) was $10 to $15 at least. Since I was sitting right next to two dance promoters I asked them, what did they think about running a dance night with just deejay-ed music (no band to pay), no lesson (no teacher to pay), and a cheap door charge. They said that getting dancers wasn't their problem, they'd always had three or four couples on their dance floor for the bands. They needed people buying dinner, ordering drinks, and spending money. I said the people who do that, follow the crowds. Give dancers a cheap place to dance on Tuesday nights with no bands, no lessons, just social dancing... and the crowds will follow. A "If you build it, they will come" selling point. They agreed.
The biggest problem they had was the promotion. I said, 'what if we post on Yehoodi?' They said they'd had bad experiences with people on that website complaining about their club (this was at the beginning of online trolls, and the owners did not like them). I asked, 'what if Yehoodi is involved directly?' They said, 'what do you mean?' I explained that Yehoodi was having problems funding their servers, and that if the club shared their door cost with the website, the guys who ran the website would promote the hell out of this place. They asked me to call and arrange a meeting.
It was an afternoon, sometime in spring (I wasn't paying attention to specific dates in those days), where the owners of Swing 46, Frank (one of the owners of Yehoodi), and I sat down at the bar. I only remember this because I was sitting down to a business deal, at a bar, in the middle of the morning. It was a first for me, and the visual is etched into my head. I was asked to lay out the plan to everyone involved and be a mediator between the two companies as they negotiated. They both wanted their concessions, and they both wanted to make money. Tuesday night was a dead night for Swing 46 anyway, so any more people in the club was a good thing. Yehoodi was reliant completely on monetary donations from a group of people who were habitually broke, it was currently in a downward financial spiral.
I don't resent what happened next. Far from it. Yehoodi.com started a deejay-ed night in a club and a city that was all about live music. The dancers had a great cheap place to dance, and the waning dance scene of NYC was revitalized a bit. The Frim Fram Jam was born, and expensive dance nights with bands started to die off (there are not nearly as many dance bands in NYC anymore). Though the club and Yehoodi eventually had a falling out, and the Frim Fram Jam moved elsewhere, this dance evening was a brain child of mine (combining social media/chat website with social dance) which had not been attempted before. Swing 46 and Yehoodi.com's Frim Fram Jam are both still going strong, and I can still get in for free at both of these joints, though it is much harder to make the commute from England. I helped make that happen... though I don't think even the current organizers of the Frim Fram Jam know why I am still on the guest list (Frank lives in San Francisco), and when I flash my 'get in for free' card at Swing 46 I get some really strange looks (most of the people watching the door there had never seen that card before.)
I don't say all of this because I want credit for the Frim Fram Jam, or for helping out Swing 46 and Yehoodi. That ship has sailed and I am really fine with the idea taking off and having a life of its own. I say all of this because I'd really like the credit for my next idea, and the next, and the next. I'd like to make a living off of them. I know I'll never be famous for them, because who is famous for having an idea anymore? I'd just like to be able to make a small living from them, those ideas of mine. I will eventually release these ideas into the wild, with my brand clearly seared into their backside, and someone somewhere will pay me large (read: modest) ridiculous (read: modest) stacks of cash (read: direct deposit) for my incredibly ingenious (read: slightly applicable) revelatory (read: more original than the other guy's) ideas for theatrical design. I've moved on from dancing to theatre design of Shakespeare and I've already said too much. I hope you enjoyed the story. I'd never written the whole thing down before, until just now.
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fearful porpentine. -- Hamlet (I.v)
Year 3, Day 97 - Words Written: 15,000+
Sunday, 28 September 2014
Year 3, Day 5: Shakespeare Institute -- An Oxfordian Face Palm
So, my math has been off for a while, with the Year and Day postings. I've reset it now. Two years ago today I began this blog, and it seemed only appropriate to post on this day with my thoughts on what's going on.
Today, I get back to this education of mine on Shakespeare.
Today, Anne Rice (of Interview with a Vampire fame) posted something on her Facebook wall about always being a believer in the Oxfordian theory of authorship. In essence, believing that Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, wrote all of Shakespeare's plays. She also said that there was going to be a mock Trial of Shakespeare held in Stratford-upon-Avon regarding the question of authorship (she meant to say Stratford, Ontario), and that this should be paid attention to.
I am a fan of Anne Rice's novels. I am also a fan of education and the tenets of research (the first one being, actually do some research.) So, it seems that today these two concepts are mutually exclusive. If Ms. Rice had actually read any of the authorship material, or about any of the people who believe that theory, she'd know that no 'self-respecting Oxfordian' would ever show their faces anywhere near any Stratford (including Ontario) so as not to give credence to the man from Stratford's works (I say 'self-respecting Oxfordian' with a bit of sarcasm as I believe that no Oxfordian anywhere has respect for anything but themselves and their own bloated egos). So, the concept of a mock trial of authorship taking place in Stratford is either going to be a little academic tongue-in-cheek, or a whole load of trollop amounting to a man standing on a soapbox in the middle of Canada screaming at the top of his lungs, "Edward de Vere was the true Shakespeare!" (note: this chant is one syllable shy of a true pentameter, and yes, that was intentional) and passersby chuckling, shaking their heads, and giving no more thought to the man than they would that morning's visit to the restroom ("just another obstacle to the day"), for they are citizens of Stratford. It isn't likely that this Oxfordian will find any allies there.
Please note: There is positively no way to "prove" authorship of Shakespeare. I am willing to allow anyone to believe what they want to believe on this matter, as long as there is a reasonable and academic case being (even slightly) made. I live in Stratford-upon-Avon and study at the Shakespeare Institute there, so my stance on this question is that there is no question and Oxfordians can go suck it (in my humble opinion.)
I believe that Ms. Rice has never actually given thought to the question of authorship, and only believes in it because conspiracy theories are sexy, controversial, and anti-establishment. It isn't hard to psychoanalyze her motives given the subject matter of her most popular pieces of writing. The sad part comes when I realized today that Anne Rice is ignorant. Probably of a lot of things. She isn't stupid, just ignorant... and she is fine with spraying her ignorance where e'er she treads.
This isn't about Anne Rice. This is about people I have known and taken for granted as smart, well-educated people, being re-evaluated. I have re-examined my relationship with just about everyone I've ever known since reading that post from Ms. Rice and found a surprising number of the people in my life left wanting. Which is to say that they are not the people I thought them to be. Which is also to say, that I should never have taken them for granted in the first place... and being the man that I am, my hefty brain then goes back to my first meeting them and goes through what was said, and how I might have begun to assume that they were smart people. My brain then starts slapping my conscience around calling it, 'stupid,stupid,stupid' or something of that ilk for ever having fallen for that person's wily guise of intellect. I then start thinking about yet another person in my life who must be re-examined and go through the process again.
Yes, I'm over-thinking this. Have we met?
I am a researcher, a practitioner of theatre, an academic, a teacher, a graduate of two Master's programs, writing a PhD thesis on the Pivotal Production Designs of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Royal Shakespeare Company, and I have spent twenty-six minutes today smacking myself around for ever thinking one of my casual acquaintances that I took to be smart and passionate upon first meeting her, is actually just someone out to make money and make herself appear superior to the rest of us mortals trying to make a living at the stuff we love to do. In answer to your question, "is he talking about me?" the answer is emphatically "no", because she would never read a blog about Shakespeare... or at least never get this far into one of my posts.
I guess my points today are these:
1) Anne Rice writes fiction and should not be looked to for questions you might have about anything that goes beyond her field of research. (She writes Vampire Fiction. She has plenty to say about that, and if you are interested, you should listen.)
2) Oxfordians are a befuddled group of conspiracy theorists, and I feel sorry for them.
3) You cannot change the world by presenting your ideas or opinions as facts. Keep an open mind, about everything. Discuss. Never be afraid to say that you don't know enough, and don't be scared to walk away from those that make you feel inferior for saying so. Research things that you are interested in, because you are interested in them... but do. the. research.
4) Don't spray popular tripe because it sounds interesting. Unless you are running for office, and then at least make it funny or ironic or blatantly corrupt. Tell me first before you do anything though as I'll need time to make some popcorn and find a comfortable seat.
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven -- Henry VI, Part 2 (IV.vii)
Year 3, Day 5 - Words Written: 5,367
Today, I get back to this education of mine on Shakespeare.
Today, Anne Rice (of Interview with a Vampire fame) posted something on her Facebook wall about always being a believer in the Oxfordian theory of authorship. In essence, believing that Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, wrote all of Shakespeare's plays. She also said that there was going to be a mock Trial of Shakespeare held in Stratford-upon-Avon regarding the question of authorship (she meant to say Stratford, Ontario), and that this should be paid attention to.
I am a fan of Anne Rice's novels. I am also a fan of education and the tenets of research (the first one being, actually do some research.) So, it seems that today these two concepts are mutually exclusive. If Ms. Rice had actually read any of the authorship material, or about any of the people who believe that theory, she'd know that no 'self-respecting Oxfordian' would ever show their faces anywhere near any Stratford (including Ontario) so as not to give credence to the man from Stratford's works (I say 'self-respecting Oxfordian' with a bit of sarcasm as I believe that no Oxfordian anywhere has respect for anything but themselves and their own bloated egos). So, the concept of a mock trial of authorship taking place in Stratford is either going to be a little academic tongue-in-cheek, or a whole load of trollop amounting to a man standing on a soapbox in the middle of Canada screaming at the top of his lungs, "Edward de Vere was the true Shakespeare!" (note: this chant is one syllable shy of a true pentameter, and yes, that was intentional) and passersby chuckling, shaking their heads, and giving no more thought to the man than they would that morning's visit to the restroom ("just another obstacle to the day"), for they are citizens of Stratford. It isn't likely that this Oxfordian will find any allies there.
Please note: There is positively no way to "prove" authorship of Shakespeare. I am willing to allow anyone to believe what they want to believe on this matter, as long as there is a reasonable and academic case being (even slightly) made. I live in Stratford-upon-Avon and study at the Shakespeare Institute there, so my stance on this question is that there is no question and Oxfordians can go suck it (in my humble opinion.)
I believe that Ms. Rice has never actually given thought to the question of authorship, and only believes in it because conspiracy theories are sexy, controversial, and anti-establishment. It isn't hard to psychoanalyze her motives given the subject matter of her most popular pieces of writing. The sad part comes when I realized today that Anne Rice is ignorant. Probably of a lot of things. She isn't stupid, just ignorant... and she is fine with spraying her ignorance where e'er she treads.
This isn't about Anne Rice. This is about people I have known and taken for granted as smart, well-educated people, being re-evaluated. I have re-examined my relationship with just about everyone I've ever known since reading that post from Ms. Rice and found a surprising number of the people in my life left wanting. Which is to say that they are not the people I thought them to be. Which is also to say, that I should never have taken them for granted in the first place... and being the man that I am, my hefty brain then goes back to my first meeting them and goes through what was said, and how I might have begun to assume that they were smart people. My brain then starts slapping my conscience around calling it, 'stupid,stupid,stupid' or something of that ilk for ever having fallen for that person's wily guise of intellect. I then start thinking about yet another person in my life who must be re-examined and go through the process again.
Yes, I'm over-thinking this. Have we met?
I am a researcher, a practitioner of theatre, an academic, a teacher, a graduate of two Master's programs, writing a PhD thesis on the Pivotal Production Designs of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Royal Shakespeare Company, and I have spent twenty-six minutes today smacking myself around for ever thinking one of my casual acquaintances that I took to be smart and passionate upon first meeting her, is actually just someone out to make money and make herself appear superior to the rest of us mortals trying to make a living at the stuff we love to do. In answer to your question, "is he talking about me?" the answer is emphatically "no", because she would never read a blog about Shakespeare... or at least never get this far into one of my posts.
I guess my points today are these:
1) Anne Rice writes fiction and should not be looked to for questions you might have about anything that goes beyond her field of research. (She writes Vampire Fiction. She has plenty to say about that, and if you are interested, you should listen.)
2) Oxfordians are a befuddled group of conspiracy theorists, and I feel sorry for them.
3) You cannot change the world by presenting your ideas or opinions as facts. Keep an open mind, about everything. Discuss. Never be afraid to say that you don't know enough, and don't be scared to walk away from those that make you feel inferior for saying so. Research things that you are interested in, because you are interested in them... but do. the. research.
4) Don't spray popular tripe because it sounds interesting. Unless you are running for office, and then at least make it funny or ironic or blatantly corrupt. Tell me first before you do anything though as I'll need time to make some popcorn and find a comfortable seat.
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven -- Henry VI, Part 2 (IV.vii)
Year 3, Day 5 - Words Written: 5,367
Wednesday, 13 August 2014
Year 2, Day 338: Shakespeare Institute -- So, I got to thinking...
I'm finally on a path. I don't know if it's even the right one, but I'm on it.
Do you know that feeling of being lost for so long that you actually begin to ignore where it was you were going and just start looking for familiar territory? Yeah, me neither. But I have this friend, who says that a PhD feels exactly like that. I certainly don't feel that way. I've been chugging right along on the same line of research since day one, and I greet every morning with a smile as if to say, "I love today, and I love my work." My friend however has told me that he no longer knows what his thesis will be on save to say, "It'll focus on stuff that other people don't know yet" and that he greets his morning with a pot of coffee, a grimace, and a fist towards the heavens as if to say, "If I shoved this up my ass, would I be better off researching the pain, the premise, or the promise that I will 'never do that again', and is there a conference I can go to on this topic?"
----
I have -most- of a topic, I know what I'm doing right now, and my research is really interesting to me. That's all I needed to say on that.
In other news, I got tickets to Hamlet with Benedict Cumberbatch which opens next year. Seriously. a year from now, and I get a sense of accomplishment in scoring tickets (as the queue for tickets was at one point 30,000 people long). For theatre. A year from now.
In America, 'theatre is dying'... it always is. I live in Stratford-upon-Avon, where the largest building in town is a gigantic monument to the greatest playwright who ever lived that gets national funding and has started (or been the part of) the careers of some of the world's biggest movie and television stars. This one building.
In America, 'theatre is corporate'... who do you think puts up the money for twelve separate companies of 'Phantom of the Opera'? The National, The Royal Shakespeare Company, Cheek by Jowl, The New Globe are all theatre companies. They have corporate elements that fund raise for them. Notice that the buildings they house themselves in are not called "The Preparation-H Swan Theatre" or "The Coca-Cola Other Space" or "The Comcast Globe" (though I am sure Comcast borad of directors would each give their left leg to be able to say that last one.)
In America, 'arts education is suffering'... yeah, well it is here too, but I'm getting a degree in Shakespeare Studies from the guys and girls who actually edit William Shakespeare. No shit. What have you got?
----
It's crazy right? Booking tickets for theatre, Shakespearean theatre, a year in advance would never happen in the States.
Lastly, I am hanging on to my humanity with both hands. I have to remind myself that people should mourn in private with those closest to them... and not publicly declare that they are sad, so the world should be sad with them. I am reminding myself that honoring someone's memory is not as good as, or not the same as honoring someone's life. That's when you take the time to write your heroes a letter saying how much they have inspired you... while they're alive. I remind myself to go out everyday and walk (or at least Vicky does) sometimes without my phone or money. If you're reading this, I imagine you are already aware of the basic human need to get some fresh air without the need to take a picture or buy something. I remind myself that asking a good question is always more interesting than finding the only answer. I remind myself that polarized opinions are not the best way to build a community but rather the best way to start a fight. I remind myself that there will always be much smarter and much dumber people than myself... and that it is important to know (or to learn) how to speak to both groups of people as an equal. Because some of the dumb ones know how to change a carburetor, and some of the smart ones will come to your dance class.
That, and too much of a good thing is still just too much. It always ends with a trip to the toilet that is either scary, sad, or far too time-consuming... or some combination of the three.
ORLANDO:Then love me, Rosalind.
ROSALIND: Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
ORLANDO: And wilt thou have me?
ROSALIND: Ay, and twenty such.
ORLANDO: What sayest thou?
ROSALIND: Are you not good?
ORLANDO: I hope so.
ROSALIND: Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?
-- AS YOU LIKE IT (IV.i)
Year 2, Day 338 - Words Written: 950
Do you know that feeling of being lost for so long that you actually begin to ignore where it was you were going and just start looking for familiar territory? Yeah, me neither. But I have this friend, who says that a PhD feels exactly like that. I certainly don't feel that way. I've been chugging right along on the same line of research since day one, and I greet every morning with a smile as if to say, "I love today, and I love my work." My friend however has told me that he no longer knows what his thesis will be on save to say, "It'll focus on stuff that other people don't know yet" and that he greets his morning with a pot of coffee, a grimace, and a fist towards the heavens as if to say, "If I shoved this up my ass, would I be better off researching the pain, the premise, or the promise that I will 'never do that again', and is there a conference I can go to on this topic?"
----
I have -most- of a topic, I know what I'm doing right now, and my research is really interesting to me. That's all I needed to say on that.
In other news, I got tickets to Hamlet with Benedict Cumberbatch which opens next year. Seriously. a year from now, and I get a sense of accomplishment in scoring tickets (as the queue for tickets was at one point 30,000 people long). For theatre. A year from now.
In America, 'theatre is dying'... it always is. I live in Stratford-upon-Avon, where the largest building in town is a gigantic monument to the greatest playwright who ever lived that gets national funding and has started (or been the part of) the careers of some of the world's biggest movie and television stars. This one building.
In America, 'theatre is corporate'... who do you think puts up the money for twelve separate companies of 'Phantom of the Opera'? The National, The Royal Shakespeare Company, Cheek by Jowl, The New Globe are all theatre companies. They have corporate elements that fund raise for them. Notice that the buildings they house themselves in are not called "The Preparation-H Swan Theatre" or "The Coca-Cola Other Space" or "The Comcast Globe" (though I am sure Comcast borad of directors would each give their left leg to be able to say that last one.)
In America, 'arts education is suffering'... yeah, well it is here too, but I'm getting a degree in Shakespeare Studies from the guys and girls who actually edit William Shakespeare. No shit. What have you got?
----
It's crazy right? Booking tickets for theatre, Shakespearean theatre, a year in advance would never happen in the States.
Lastly, I am hanging on to my humanity with both hands. I have to remind myself that people should mourn in private with those closest to them... and not publicly declare that they are sad, so the world should be sad with them. I am reminding myself that honoring someone's memory is not as good as, or not the same as honoring someone's life. That's when you take the time to write your heroes a letter saying how much they have inspired you... while they're alive. I remind myself to go out everyday and walk (or at least Vicky does) sometimes without my phone or money. If you're reading this, I imagine you are already aware of the basic human need to get some fresh air without the need to take a picture or buy something. I remind myself that asking a good question is always more interesting than finding the only answer. I remind myself that polarized opinions are not the best way to build a community but rather the best way to start a fight. I remind myself that there will always be much smarter and much dumber people than myself... and that it is important to know (or to learn) how to speak to both groups of people as an equal. Because some of the dumb ones know how to change a carburetor, and some of the smart ones will come to your dance class.
That, and too much of a good thing is still just too much. It always ends with a trip to the toilet that is either scary, sad, or far too time-consuming... or some combination of the three.
ORLANDO:Then love me, Rosalind.
ROSALIND: Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.
ORLANDO: And wilt thou have me?
ROSALIND: Ay, and twenty such.
ORLANDO: What sayest thou?
ROSALIND: Are you not good?
ORLANDO: I hope so.
ROSALIND: Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?
-- AS YOU LIKE IT (IV.i)
Year 2, Day 338 - Words Written: 950
Wednesday, 23 July 2014
Year 2, Day 317: Shakespeare Institute -- Provoked.
Social experiment #1.
_____
I am against racism, sexism, evil, laziness, ignorance, stagnation, and rape.
In fact, I don't believe anyone worthy of having a conversation with is actually FOR any of those things as concepts. They are concepts drawn out of polarized thought... except the last one. I'll discuss that last one there in a moment. In the meantime, all of the rest of these concepts have been created in order to polarize a person or populous against something. It is an institutional desire to create polarization in and amongst people as there will be commonality seen or experienced then within that institution. It is not the ideal of a community however to create polarization, as all communities truly wish to welcome members that already share a common bond (usually a proximal living situation). So, for the purposes of this discussion on the polarization of thought, an institutional way of thinking could be seen as exclusive, and a communal way of thinking as inclusive.
So, how did you read that statement above? Are institutions 'bad' and communities 'good'?
Rape is the product of a polarized society. One definition of 'rape', according to the Oxford Dictionaries, is 'the wanton destruction or spoiling of a place.' Though there are other definitions of 'rape' in many different dictionaries online and in print, this is the definition that I'd like to address. The act of rape is the product of a culture, society, or institution completely polarized in thought, action, or policy.
No one supports these other concepts, except in a fictional society. Racism, sexism, and evil are not concepts people act or speak towards, but rather against. (Imagine the cheers "Go Racism!" that you've never heard in your life - and you understand that no one speaks to the premise, they simply act in ownership of it). Laziness, ignorance, and stagnation are not self-aware concepts, for obvious reasons. These are all terms, ideas, or talking points that have arisen from institutions wishing to polarize thought against something else, not them. The big question here is, why?
Am I polarizing your way of thinking by even calling out the concept of polarized thought? Am I anti-polarization now that I have said 'rape is a product of a polarized society'?
When an institution has invited you to take part in whatever they are selling (education, parties, political thinking, money, self-help, etc.), each and every one of them has sold you on the premise of what they are not. A PC is not an Apple. Michigan is not Michigan State. Democrats are not Republican. The Globe is not the RSC. You get the idea. Even by stating a positive viewpoint, these institutions have polarized their ideas against someone else. "We are here to make you succeed!" ~ "Don't put your unrealistic expectations on me. What if I don't want to succeed your way?" -or- "We want to save the rainforests!" ~ "I make my living chopping down trees. Are you oppressing me?" -or just- "Jesus saves." That one has had a few responses over the years.
Institutions are there to pull you up/down/through to their level. They do it by polarizing you against something, intentionally or no.
Have I now made the institutions aware that I am aware of what they are doing? Am I paranoid?
Rape occurs when the polarization has reached a boiling point. The old Garfield adage: "I hit him back first." It is the initial impetus of war, and fighting, and disagreements, and misunderstanding, and it is part of the human condition.
Have I just called all humans naturally rapists?
In the movie, Thank You for Smoking, a professional lobbyist named Nick Naylor, played by Aaron Eckhart, tells his kid about winning an argument, and without butchering the point too much, comes to the conclusion that to win you do not have to prove your own point right, but just that your opposition is wrong. Coming from the point of view of a professional 'litigator' - 'lawyer' - 'arguer' - 'disputician' - 'quarreler' - 'warrior', I'd say that was right on the money.
The institution, however, does not argue. It creates the argument where none existed before, and hires disput-icians to fight the battle the institution has created. Polarized thought is a product of institutional thinking, and rape is a product of polarized thought. (Tell me, you saw that one coming?)
So, how do you feel about institutions now? Have I managed to polarize you to one side or another?
A community holds you up. Welcomes you in and says, 'how can we help you?' It does not say, 'let us protect you.' It gives without asking for or expecting anything in return. So the question remains...
Am I a part of an institution or a community?
_____
In this little social experiment, I have tried to control the way you have thought (that is, if you are actually reading this). I have given you two options, institution or community, and reasoned with you that one is not the other. Portrayed one as bad, and the other I've shared platitudes about. I've made drastic assumptions here, but never given them air.
Is it possible though that you can be something else entirely devoid of institutional or communal thought?
You, the reader, may have seen through this. You're smart. And a plural thinker. You don't get trapped into thinking one way and entertain many different ideas. A member of the anti-polarized.
_____
I did it again. I made you into something you are not. You almost sounded Marxist there.
_____
It's your fault. I didn't want to call you Marxist.
_____
Ok, fascist. Woah. Get off your high horse there. I was just trying to make people aware of the fact that arguing is simply a product of our need to be right, and feel accepted, and secure. We polarize ourselves according to our insecurities.
_____
Isreal. Palestine. Go.
_____
I am against racism, sexism, evil, laziness, ignorance, stagnation, and rape.
In fact, I don't believe anyone worthy of having a conversation with is actually FOR any of those things as concepts. They are concepts drawn out of polarized thought... except the last one. I'll discuss that last one there in a moment. In the meantime, all of the rest of these concepts have been created in order to polarize a person or populous against something. It is an institutional desire to create polarization in and amongst people as there will be commonality seen or experienced then within that institution. It is not the ideal of a community however to create polarization, as all communities truly wish to welcome members that already share a common bond (usually a proximal living situation). So, for the purposes of this discussion on the polarization of thought, an institutional way of thinking could be seen as exclusive, and a communal way of thinking as inclusive.
So, how did you read that statement above? Are institutions 'bad' and communities 'good'?
Rape is the product of a polarized society. One definition of 'rape', according to the Oxford Dictionaries, is 'the wanton destruction or spoiling of a place.' Though there are other definitions of 'rape' in many different dictionaries online and in print, this is the definition that I'd like to address. The act of rape is the product of a culture, society, or institution completely polarized in thought, action, or policy.
No one supports these other concepts, except in a fictional society. Racism, sexism, and evil are not concepts people act or speak towards, but rather against. (Imagine the cheers "Go Racism!" that you've never heard in your life - and you understand that no one speaks to the premise, they simply act in ownership of it). Laziness, ignorance, and stagnation are not self-aware concepts, for obvious reasons. These are all terms, ideas, or talking points that have arisen from institutions wishing to polarize thought against something else, not them. The big question here is, why?
Am I polarizing your way of thinking by even calling out the concept of polarized thought? Am I anti-polarization now that I have said 'rape is a product of a polarized society'?
When an institution has invited you to take part in whatever they are selling (education, parties, political thinking, money, self-help, etc.), each and every one of them has sold you on the premise of what they are not. A PC is not an Apple. Michigan is not Michigan State. Democrats are not Republican. The Globe is not the RSC. You get the idea. Even by stating a positive viewpoint, these institutions have polarized their ideas against someone else. "We are here to make you succeed!" ~ "Don't put your unrealistic expectations on me. What if I don't want to succeed your way?" -or- "We want to save the rainforests!" ~ "I make my living chopping down trees. Are you oppressing me?" -or just- "Jesus saves." That one has had a few responses over the years.
Institutions are there to pull you up/down/through to their level. They do it by polarizing you against something, intentionally or no.
Have I now made the institutions aware that I am aware of what they are doing? Am I paranoid?
Rape occurs when the polarization has reached a boiling point. The old Garfield adage: "I hit him back first." It is the initial impetus of war, and fighting, and disagreements, and misunderstanding, and it is part of the human condition.
Have I just called all humans naturally rapists?
In the movie, Thank You for Smoking, a professional lobbyist named Nick Naylor, played by Aaron Eckhart, tells his kid about winning an argument, and without butchering the point too much, comes to the conclusion that to win you do not have to prove your own point right, but just that your opposition is wrong. Coming from the point of view of a professional 'litigator' - 'lawyer' - 'arguer' - 'disputician' - 'quarreler' - 'warrior', I'd say that was right on the money.
The institution, however, does not argue. It creates the argument where none existed before, and hires disput-icians to fight the battle the institution has created. Polarized thought is a product of institutional thinking, and rape is a product of polarized thought. (Tell me, you saw that one coming?)
So, how do you feel about institutions now? Have I managed to polarize you to one side or another?
A community holds you up. Welcomes you in and says, 'how can we help you?' It does not say, 'let us protect you.' It gives without asking for or expecting anything in return. So the question remains...
Am I a part of an institution or a community?
_____
In this little social experiment, I have tried to control the way you have thought (that is, if you are actually reading this). I have given you two options, institution or community, and reasoned with you that one is not the other. Portrayed one as bad, and the other I've shared platitudes about. I've made drastic assumptions here, but never given them air.
Is it possible though that you can be something else entirely devoid of institutional or communal thought?
You, the reader, may have seen through this. You're smart. And a plural thinker. You don't get trapped into thinking one way and entertain many different ideas. A member of the anti-polarized.
_____
I did it again. I made you into something you are not. You almost sounded Marxist there.
_____
It's your fault. I didn't want to call you Marxist.
_____
Ok, fascist. Woah. Get off your high horse there. I was just trying to make people aware of the fact that arguing is simply a product of our need to be right, and feel accepted, and secure. We polarize ourselves according to our insecurities.
_____
Isreal. Palestine. Go.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry,
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain. - Comedy of Errors (II.i)
Year 2, Day 317 - Words Written: 0
Wednesday, 4 June 2014
Year 2, Day 268: Shakespeare Institute -- My superpower.
After looking at, and of course editing, the same sentence for the past week, I have now convinced myself that I am a terrible writer and that it is no longer a foregone conclusion that I will ever get a PhD. That sentence you ask? Why, it is only the research goal for my entire thesis. Which I am told will change many times before all this is done, so yeah, I've got that to look forward to...
This is not what has bothered me. For the first, maybe the second, time I feel as if my supervisors know more than me about my topic. I spent the last week working on this damn sentence, so that I can send it along to my supervisors, who then get back to me within 12 hours only to have rewritten the sentence to make perfect sense, and proving to me that I am terrible at finding obvious logic and saying what I really mean. I think they are shining me on. "Oh sure, sounds like a GREAT topic. I wrote that book two years ago, but you go ahead and give it a try." -- Editor's Note: They'd never say this, or even think this. This is my paranoia broadcasting on loudspeaker inside my head. <-- I edited thissentence Editor's Note.
<edited for content... I went on a rant. Then I erased it. Then I wrote another rant. Nobody needs to read that. So that's gone too. The third, and last, rant almost made the cut.>
Plural thinking. It's how to solve a problem in many different ways. I was introduced to this phrase by Aaron Sorkin's The West Wing when Josh Lyman hosts a group of school kids in the cafeteria of The White House and talks to them about entertaining more than one idea. There is more than one way to write my thesis, more than one way to think about things, solve things, believe things, and if you ever find yourself stuck in thinking one way about anything... stop. Try and imagine the other side of the argument/discussion/conversation.
Plural thinking is the basis for empathy. Not sympathy. They are two different things. There are plenty of people who are sympathetic to any number of other people's plights (I can call about ten people right now who could all sympathize with the writing-a-thesis thing.) Sympathy = feelings of pity or sorrow for someone else's misfortune. Empathy = the ability to understand and share in the feelings of another.
Yeah. Some people condescend to sympathize with just about anyone. "Yeah, that sucks" is the aphorism of the apathetic. A sympathetic person will feel sorry for someone else, but will most likely move on fairly quickly from that emotion (America felt sorry for Sandy Hook, and now are carrying guns through the aisles of Target because they want to show their solidarity for Open Carry Laws.) An empathetic person actually needs to physically, emotionally, and thinking-ly stop (thinking-ly is not a word), and imagine what the other person/side/alien is feeling to try and understand it (So, yeah, I try to understand the people who believe vaccination is bad for kids.)
I am an empath. It's my superpower. I use my imagination to try and construct stories for people I do not yet understand so that I can make sense of the world. I can't help or stop myself from doing it. <empathetic rant where I imagine a conversation with right-wing political strategists> So, what does this have to do with getting a PhD?
Everything.
In order to write a (rather long) paper about a topic, any topic really, there is a completeness to the argument you are interested in that you have not yet thought of. There is a side to the conversation you have not yet heard, and probably don't want to hear. A person can sympathize without really listening; empaths have to listen to everything... and all too often, they lose their minds. But, you have to hear what everyone has to say (everyone that has an academic say-so, not everyone with an opinion) if you are going to empathize with those other arguments. You need to understand both, all three, all twelve sides to an argument/theory/idea before they let you participate in the discussion. All too often you shut your mind off to the opinions you don't want to hear. In a PhD, you have to present all sides to a very long argument, in an empathetic way so that each argument has its merits, and then by the end you have made a decision based on all the facts, opinions, and little tidbits you never wanted to hear about. You have to listen first in order to be heard. In order to get a PhD you have to prove that you've read everything about that topic, and then 'people' will say that you have the right to be heard yourself.
What did Marilyn Manson say when, in "Bowling for Columbine", Micheal Moore asked him, "If you could, what would you say to those kids who committed this terrible act?" <-- paraphrase
"Nothing," said Manson, "I'd listen to what they had to say." <-- paraphrase again
So, are you listening? I know. It's hard.
I'm listening.
"Give every man thy ear but few thy voice.
Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgment." -- Hamlet (I.iii)
"Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.
Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...
Anything can happen, child. Anything can be." -- Shel Silverstein, "Where the Sidewalk Ends"
"When people talk listen completely. Don't be thinking what you're going to say. Most people never listen. Nor do they observe. You should be able to go into a room and when you come out know everything that you saw there and not only that. If that room gave you any feeling you should know exactly what it was that gave you that feeling." - Ernest Hemingway, "Across the River and Into the Trees"
Year 2, Day 268 - Words Written: 0.
This is not what has bothered me. For the first, maybe the second, time I feel as if my supervisors know more than me about my topic. I spent the last week working on this damn sentence, so that I can send it along to my supervisors, who then get back to me within 12 hours only to have rewritten the sentence to make perfect sense, and proving to me that I am terrible at finding obvious logic and saying what I really mean. I think they are shining me on. "Oh sure, sounds like a GREAT topic. I wrote that book two years ago, but you go ahead and give it a try." -- Editor's Note: They'd never say this, or even think this. This is my paranoia broadcasting on loudspeaker inside my head. <-- I edited this
<edited for content... I went on a rant. Then I erased it. Then I wrote another rant. Nobody needs to read that. So that's gone too. The third, and last, rant almost made the cut.>
Plural thinking. It's how to solve a problem in many different ways. I was introduced to this phrase by Aaron Sorkin's The West Wing when Josh Lyman hosts a group of school kids in the cafeteria of The White House and talks to them about entertaining more than one idea. There is more than one way to write my thesis, more than one way to think about things, solve things, believe things, and if you ever find yourself stuck in thinking one way about anything... stop. Try and imagine the other side of the argument/discussion/conversation.
Plural thinking is the basis for empathy. Not sympathy. They are two different things. There are plenty of people who are sympathetic to any number of other people's plights (I can call about ten people right now who could all sympathize with the writing-a-thesis thing.) Sympathy = feelings of pity or sorrow for someone else's misfortune. Empathy = the ability to understand and share in the feelings of another.
Yeah. Some people condescend to sympathize with just about anyone. "Yeah, that sucks" is the aphorism of the apathetic. A sympathetic person will feel sorry for someone else, but will most likely move on fairly quickly from that emotion (America felt sorry for Sandy Hook, and now are carrying guns through the aisles of Target because they want to show their solidarity for Open Carry Laws.) An empathetic person actually needs to physically, emotionally, and thinking-ly stop (thinking-ly is not a word), and imagine what the other person/side/alien is feeling to try and understand it (So, yeah, I try to understand the people who believe vaccination is bad for kids.)
I am an empath. It's my superpower. I use my imagination to try and construct stories for people I do not yet understand so that I can make sense of the world. I can't help or stop myself from doing it. <empathetic rant where I imagine a conversation with right-wing political strategists> So, what does this have to do with getting a PhD?
Everything.
In order to write a (rather long) paper about a topic, any topic really, there is a completeness to the argument you are interested in that you have not yet thought of. There is a side to the conversation you have not yet heard, and probably don't want to hear. A person can sympathize without really listening; empaths have to listen to everything... and all too often, they lose their minds. But, you have to hear what everyone has to say (everyone that has an academic say-so, not everyone with an opinion) if you are going to empathize with those other arguments. You need to understand both, all three, all twelve sides to an argument/theory/idea before they let you participate in the discussion. All too often you shut your mind off to the opinions you don't want to hear. In a PhD, you have to present all sides to a very long argument, in an empathetic way so that each argument has its merits, and then by the end you have made a decision based on all the facts, opinions, and little tidbits you never wanted to hear about. You have to listen first in order to be heard. In order to get a PhD you have to prove that you've read everything about that topic, and then 'people' will say that you have the right to be heard yourself.
What did Marilyn Manson say when, in "Bowling for Columbine", Micheal Moore asked him, "If you could, what would you say to those kids who committed this terrible act?" <-- paraphrase
"Nothing," said Manson, "I'd listen to what they had to say." <-- paraphrase again
So, are you listening? I know. It's hard.
I'm listening.
"Give every man thy ear but few thy voice.
Take each man’s censure but reserve thy judgment." -- Hamlet (I.iii)
"Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.
Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...
Anything can happen, child. Anything can be." -- Shel Silverstein, "Where the Sidewalk Ends"
"When people talk listen completely. Don't be thinking what you're going to say. Most people never listen. Nor do they observe. You should be able to go into a room and when you come out know everything that you saw there and not only that. If that room gave you any feeling you should know exactly what it was that gave you that feeling." - Ernest Hemingway, "Across the River and Into the Trees"
Year 2, Day 268 - Words Written: 0.
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Year 2, Day 258: Shakespeare Institute -- Editing Myself.
This past Thursday I went through my (first) Progression Panel of being a PhD student, and they actually let me pass. It was a relatively painless process discussing my work, and my place working at the Institute. I met with three very nice people from the University who seemed interested in what I had to say, and also interested in getting me out of there as soon as possible because they had fifteen other people to see that day and didn't want to get behind schedule so early. I had turned in some work earlier this year so that 'readers' from the Institute could critique it, and then I'd have something to talk about in the Progression Panel. We touched on it during our brief conversation, with them saying, "well, it seems as though your readers have said it is okay, so we'll let you go through." So, since then, I have scrapped all the work I've done in the last month and started again. Why? Well, that's a dangerous question.
My readers, two professors I know and respect at the Institute, trashed me. Well, no, they didn't trash me, but they had lots of negative things... no, well, maybe not exactly negative things, let's say criticisms. Yeah, there were a bunch, maybe five or six, criticisms about my paper. A paper that was 6,000 words long, at the beginning of my entire PhD process, and one that has already been scrapped in lieu of a brand spankin' new research focus. So, why did I decide to go back and rewrite the outline that I had been working on all month long? Because I edit myself, ALL-THE-TIME.
It is very likely that I will go back and read, re-read, post, and then delete this blog entry because statistically speaking, I've deleted maybe half of what I've written in this text square over the past two years. Only the least offensive material gets through... I hope. Maybe I need to go back a re-read my blog entries from a year ago and see if I should delete or edit any of them?
I edit myself in conversations, and even then, I'm pretty offensive. I haven't been let off the chain in years. I haven't said what I've actually thought about things in a decade... maybe five years... it's possible I said something offensive two years ago, but wait, let me revisit that moment in time again in my head... (pause)... Yep. I was offensive then too. (A space where I go on a rant and am once again edited two minutes, maybe hours, later to reflect what I want no one to know I think about, talk about, or bitch about... because in my rants, I complain a lot.) So, that's me, it feels good to get all that out (it no longer feels good, because writing it down and then erasing it is almost as if I've acknowledged these impulses and then shoved them back down again.)
If I could, I would write about swing dancing (another passion in my life), but I've read blogs where they do that and most of them sing praises to the professionals and crap all over everyone else (if only somehow to make themselves closer to the people they worship.) If I could, I'd write about Technical Theatre and Design, and try and convince (or educate) the theatre and dance practitioners of the benefits to doing it right, and what exactly that means... for some reason y'all think that to do it right means a lot of money, and a lot of preparations, when I've seen it done with two clip-on lamps and some ingenuity. If I could, I'd write about American politics and see if I could affect change just once, and see if there was a politician actually interested in what I had to say (but then I realize I don't have any money to spend on a Super-Pac... so, that'd be a "no" right there. And then there are the political internet trolls who find you, trash and ruin you, all because you wanted to speak up, and I'm tired of fighting those people.) If I could, I'd write about all the problems with this world and how you and I can fix them (but then I remember how many people read blogs anymore and the people who do visit this page, most would not have made it this far into a post.) Then I remember, that I can post about being a PhD student at the Shakespeare Institute, because I don't think that I'm offending anyone when I do that.
So, why do I edit myself? I'm scared. I feel as if everything I say is simultaneously ignored and catalogued. (edited for content.) I should listen more. The sad part is that I cannot get back all that I have edited out of my brain. I might have written a novel somewhere in there and never have known it.
I must not pretend to have restor'd
My readers, two professors I know and respect at the Institute, trashed me. Well, no, they didn't trash me, but they had lots of negative things... no, well, maybe not exactly negative things, let's say criticisms. Yeah, there were a bunch, maybe five or six, criticisms about my paper. A paper that was 6,000 words long, at the beginning of my entire PhD process, and one that has already been scrapped in lieu of a brand spankin' new research focus. So, why did I decide to go back and rewrite the outline that I had been working on all month long? Because I edit myself, ALL-THE-TIME.
It is very likely that I will go back and read, re-read, post, and then delete this blog entry because statistically speaking, I've deleted maybe half of what I've written in this text square over the past two years. Only the least offensive material gets through... I hope. Maybe I need to go back a re-read my blog entries from a year ago and see if I should delete or edit any of them?
I edit myself in conversations, and even then, I'm pretty offensive. I haven't been let off the chain in years. I haven't said what I've actually thought about things in a decade... maybe five years... it's possible I said something offensive two years ago, but wait, let me revisit that moment in time again in my head... (pause)... Yep. I was offensive then too. (A space where I go on a rant and am once again edited two minutes, maybe hours, later to reflect what I want no one to know I think about, talk about, or bitch about... because in my rants, I complain a lot.) So, that's me, it feels good to get all that out (it no longer feels good, because writing it down and then erasing it is almost as if I've acknowledged these impulses and then shoved them back down again.)
If I could, I would write about swing dancing (another passion in my life), but I've read blogs where they do that and most of them sing praises to the professionals and crap all over everyone else (if only somehow to make themselves closer to the people they worship.) If I could, I'd write about Technical Theatre and Design, and try and convince (or educate) the theatre and dance practitioners of the benefits to doing it right, and what exactly that means... for some reason y'all think that to do it right means a lot of money, and a lot of preparations, when I've seen it done with two clip-on lamps and some ingenuity. If I could, I'd write about American politics and see if I could affect change just once, and see if there was a politician actually interested in what I had to say (but then I realize I don't have any money to spend on a Super-Pac... so, that'd be a "no" right there. And then there are the political internet trolls who find you, trash and ruin you, all because you wanted to speak up, and I'm tired of fighting those people.) If I could, I'd write about all the problems with this world and how you and I can fix them (but then I remember how many people read blogs anymore and the people who do visit this page, most would not have made it this far into a post.) Then I remember, that I can post about being a PhD student at the Shakespeare Institute, because I don't think that I'm offending anyone when I do that.
So, why do I edit myself? I'm scared. I feel as if everything I say is simultaneously ignored and catalogued. (edited for content.) I should listen more. The sad part is that I cannot get back all that I have edited out of my brain. I might have written a novel somewhere in there and never have known it.
I must not pretend to have restor'd
this Work to the Exactness of the
Author's Original Manuscripts.
These are lost, or, at least, are gone
beyond any Inquiry I could make;
so that there was nothing left, but
to compare the several Editions,
and give the true Reading as
well as I could from thence. -- Nicholas Rowe, Shakespeare's 1st Editor.
Year 2, Day 258 - Words Written: (Edited for content.)
Year 2, Day 258 - Words Written: (Edited for content.)
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