A Self-Pity Picture Post!

All right. It's time for me to post something, not because I have something wildly original or artistic to say, but because this is my life right now, and you have to write from where you're at. Forgive the unfortunate grammar, but considering "where I'm at" (namely, trying to figure out how to be an adult living with my parents in a tiny, tiny town in South Carolina), it would be wrong to say that you have to write from "where you are." So where am I at right now? I'm in the oddest place. I'm a grown person (mostly) who has been out of college for a year. I keep thinking, "Can it possibly have been that long already?" At the same time, it feels like it's been forever. Nothing new there; I'm sure most people experience that sensation when they're starting their life as independent grown-ups. I've been living in my parents' house, but without my parents up until last Wednesday. And then Mom and Daddy moved in. Cue not knowing what to do with myself. Part of what came with them moving into their house, in which I had already been living, was that I had to consolidate all my worldly possessions into my bedroom. Madness. I have pictures to prove it.

To the right is my bed. And that heap in the left of the picture? Yeah, that's a bed too, only you wouldn't know that on account of the massive load of stuff on top of it

A better view of the junk heap. My poor beleaguered bookshelf in front of the window, shut off from my access by more stuff on the floor. 

And of course, the floor. Let's not talk about it.

The really heartbreaking thing for me is that I had this room so beautiful before now. I had just rearranged the furniture and things were working beautifully. But anyway, my point in this post was not originally to talk about the state of my life so much as to discuss the unrealistic, disheartening, impossible, overwhelming list of things that I want to "straighten out" in my life. Get this room in order. Go through my entire wardrobe, discard what I don't need, buy what I do, and become efficient at dressing professionally and attractively. Go through all of my documents on my computer, get things backed up so I don't lose things I've written like I did earlier this year, get started trying to get some stuff published. Start cooking again (and that one's probably not going to happen, what with my parents being here...I mean cooking in a different sense than just preparing food. Perhaps I'll post more about what I mean about that some other time). Learn everything I can about how to better teach Josh, the fourteen year old boy I tutor. Write a novel draft. Read the books I own instead of just accumulating more because I can. Figure out my finances, budget my current income, figure out how best to use my money. Start looking at MFA programs and begin to get things in order for the application process this fall. If I kept going, I could think of more, but I really need to stop now so I can get to bed to go to work tomorrow. But before I do, I've got to end on a good note. Nice thing is, a long history of experience with overwhelming to do lists (English Major...'nuff said) allows me to remind myself that no one ever ate a whale in one bite. Thank you, Shel Silverstein. 

Melinda Mae

Have you heard of tiny Melinda Mae,

Who ate a monstrous whale?

She thought she could,


She said she would,

So she started  in right  at the tail.

And everyone said, “You’re much too small,”

But that didn’t bother Melinda at all.

She took little bites and she chewed very slow,

Just like a good girl should…

…And in eighty-nine years she ate that whale

Because she said she would!

–      Melinda Mae, Poem and Illustrations by Shel Silverstein 

Lesson of the Day

Strange how the small things in my environment affect writing. Here I am at my alma mater with about two and a half hours to burn, and the excuses I'm making to avoid writing are kind of ridiculous. The table my computer is resting on is too high. It jabs into my forearms as I rest them there while I type. If it were lower, this table would be perfect. This seat is hard. I liked the old chairs in the computer lab better. The back of it isn't high enough. One would think it'd be the noise, the people, the clanking of the enormous doors that would be my excuses for not writing. But somehow boys singing in the stairwell and tour groups full of freshmen passing through talking about what a drag freshman seminar is and the incessant thud and clank of the doors as people walk through don't bother me. I suppose it's my small personal sphere that needs to be as I like it to be for writing. Anything outside my circle becomes material to write about. But I don't usually want to write about hard chairs and tables that are too high. Odd thing is, I believe I've done just that. Lesson of the day, write no matter what.

A Kiss Otherwise Motivated

Today I was watching a TV show that is undeniably ridiculous in many ways. It's a science fiction show from the late 90s by the name of Farscape. A great deal of what's laughable in it is the use of puppets to represent certain aliens (think early Yoda or Jabba the Hutt), bizarre makeup jobs, dialogue which must have been pretty snazzy sounding at the time but now makes you chuckle, etcetera etcetera...

Nevertheless, I enjoy the show, and today while watching, I came across a really beautiful little piece of acting which I'm certain I'll not be able to describe adequately. I may well make myself blush trying.
But allow me to preface, since it's what I do best. Kisses in movies and TV shows tend to be mostly the same. Or at least, the motivations behind them do. It's extremely unusual to come across a kiss which is not motivated by mutual romantic attraction between two characters. Regardless of the self-awareness of these characters, that desire is almost always there.

Kisses which are otherwise motivated always interest me. The two characters in question, Crichton and Chiana, are not in love. They are not even in that state of being so ubiquitous in the film world, unaware of their true feelings for one another. They met several episodes earlier when Crichton rescued Chiana from some very nasty people who intended to mentally recondition her. Since then, she has been unpredictable, untrustworthy, and self-serving. She is attractive and charismatic, fully aware of the effect her alluring physique and personality have on men. Her skills include talented lying and a knack for ensuring her own survival. She always has perfect command of herself and never needs anyone. Gratitude towards Crichton or anyone else who has helped her has never been a priority.

Now the crew find themselves in a desperate situation, one in which the only solution, it seems, is for Crichton to go on a suicide mission to save Chiana and the rest of his shipmates. He encounters Chiana alone, and when she asks him why he wants to attempt it, he explains, "Scorpius wants me, and if I'm in the transport, it's more likely to draw the command carrier away from the rest of you guys."

She steps closer to him. "What if other people want you too?" Her voice is a little unsteady, although it's clear that she's desperately trying to sound nonchalant, like it's all a big joke. As though "other people" could mean anyone else on the ship.

"Is this some sort of weird alien send-off?" he asks.

She comes even nearer, takes his hands and places them on her waist, looks up at him. "Call it what you like. I know no other way to thank you for what you're doing." Knowing Chiana, I know exactly what she is offering. I also know exactly why. This is not a revelation of her deep romantic love for Crichton. It is a moment of transparency in a character who always has it together. Crichton understands as well.

"Never before the big game," he says, smiling. He sits her down and crouches in front of her, still holding her hands. She is unwilling to look at him, but he waits until she does before he adds, compassionately, "But thanks."

"You saved my life" she protests, in tears now.

"Pass it on," he replies. "When someone else needs it, return the favor."

She leans her forehead against his, then reaches forward to kiss him. He receives the kiss gently, then pulls away. He smiles, touches her head, and leaves.

It's truly wonderful acting when you come away from a scene like that knowing with perfect clarity what each character really meant, even if it's dreadfully difficult to put in words.