They say it's just a part of life...

He went home to be with the Lord on Tuesday.

The memorial service for Hawaiian Brian is this Wednesday. I'm not going to deny that I'm hurting. But, once again, I'm not exactly sure why this hurts.

I wasn't super close with him...but I worked on his living room for 9 months. He was a nice guy. I cared about him...and his son.

Sometimes, you just get hit really hard with things. Personally, the past two months (with the passing of Grandpa Bill and a slew of other things) have felt like a barrage - like getting pounded over and over again with the crashing of new waves. Over. And over. And over again.

I currently don't like hospitals.

But I currently love people a whole lot. And I know that Christ is here with me in this. He's what's keeping me from getting my face planted in the ground. And if this is what it takes...to get me to a place where I realize the value of people even more...to get me to a place where I cling to the love of God and realize my absolute dependence on Him (in the good days as well as the bad)...

then, okay, so be it. Here we go. Continue.

Tips from a Wing Girl

From Target, the other day, when I *ahem* wasn't feeling good.

Here's a note of suggestion for the gentlemen: if you want to start up and conversation with a girl, slightly catch up, chat her up, or see how she's doing - that's great. Just don't do when you see her shopping in the feminine hygiene aisle. If you, as a security guard, find her in the...oh...movies section, that could be a good time to get friendly. However, if you catch her when she's shopping for "supplies," your rate of success automatically drops by about one-thousand percent. If she hands you a misplaced item that she finds in the aisle, take that as a really good opportunity to say you'll see her later. It's your call, but sticking around and trying to sympathize a conversation out of her won't really help your situation when she's already told you she doesn't feel good, and has made it pretty much as clearly clear as possible that she doesn't feel like talking...much less interacting with any human on the planet at the moment. The sad humor of the matter is she'll know exactly what's going on but will probably make little effort to relieve your sense of awkwardness.

A quick "hello" is fine, but a conversation probably isn't wanted.

If you should happen to find yourself in such a situation where you've tried to start a conversation in thus designated area and find it going towards the spectrum designated "unsuccessful," it is not recommended that you stick around to further try and fix the situation. If "that kind of stuff" doesn't bother you, that's great. However, in the silent awkwardness, if you try to break the ice by turning from her to stare at the shelves in front of her, you and she will both know that you really have no clue what you're looking at. She really doesn't need your help buying a box of tampons, anyway.

Scripted. (almost)

Scene 1: A coffee shop

Girl: Hello! How can I help you today?

Cop: What are you smiling about?

Girl adopts a very stern face, holds it for a second, and then breaks with a giggle.

Cop: Did you spit in my coffee?

Girl:...yes. It's what gives it its special flavor!

Cop: Well, I don't like special flavor.

Girl (to cop's silent partner): Did you not come in this morning, or was I on my break and I missed you?

Cop: Why are you stalking my partner?

Girl: I'm not stalking your partner! You're the one who told me his name!

Cop: Hey, I don't even know this guy.

Girl: Why are you picking on me today, anyway?

Cop (gesturing): ...You see this badge?

Girl (gesturing): You see this apron? It means I can spit in your coffee.

Scene 2: The next day

The cops enter.

Cop: Are you going to give me attitude today?

Girl: Only if you start it.

Cop: Good.

Scene 3: A few days later, as she is getting off of work

Girl sees the cops and waves goodbye as she leaves.

Cop: Bye! Drive safe!

Girl: Thanks! You too!

Cop: I will.

Voices: Who is “you,” and where am I?

I'm normally hesitant to post my original "work" on here (at least without some sort of protection), but since this has been published I thought I'd put it up. Actual copyrights - gotta love 'em. It's my first scholarly article to find its way into publication. It's long and FULL of contemporary literary criticism (it was my final paper for the class - go figure), but if you like (and can follow) that kind of stuff, you might enjoy my paper...
Or, you might hate it.
At any rate, I'm posting it here.

(Side note: I would encourage you to do a separate reading of only the poem before you really read my paper. Get a feel for it yourself. Get an idea of what it means to you and how it makes you feel, etc. Then, go ahead and read my paper...if you want. Or, you may just want to stop and leave it at the poem.)

* * *

"Voices: Who is "you," and where where am I?" Synecdoche. Vol. 7. Eds.
Hannah Petrak and Ashley Wells. Costa Mesa: Synecdoche Literary Journal of Vanguard University, 2010. 77-87.

* * *

This is not the poem that you will never see.
That poem
I have buried in my heart
So deeply
That I'm not sure that I can even find it.

And so you see the product:
See the many poems that I have cranked out –
Perhaps in search of the one that is hidden.

Wouldn't you like to know what it says?
I'll bet you would.
But perhaps behind the many words
Of so many poems
Is the fear
That the poem of my heart
Cannot be set to words
And yet you would be able to read it anyway.

Grammatically straight lines
Give way to cryptic messages,
And skewed codes of language
Are obvious in their meaning.

When I write,
My messages
Are so encoded
That so often
I don't even catch their meaning
Until it’s too late.
And that frightens me.
Much like you frighten me.

And so,
This poem
That you will never see –
I dedicate it to you.

The first line and the title are the same, “This is not the poem you will never see,” warns the author. But, if I as the reader then become the character in the poem, according to reader-response theory, then who is the “you” that I am speaking to? You can’t do that. What? Can’t do what? You can’t do that. You can’t just use start using a poem and then not provide proper citation. Yes, I can. No, you can’t. It’s plagiarism. No, it’s not. Yes, it is. If you don’t cite your sources, then it’s plagiarism. Okay, fine. I’ll try again.

The first line and the title are the same, “This is not the poem you will never see,” warns the author (Testrake 98). There, are you happy? I’ve even put it in the works cited page. You can check it and see for yourself, if you want to. No, you really can’t do that. Yes, I can! I correctly cited the poem. I can write a paper about reader-response theory on it if I want to. What’s to stop me? You can’t write this paper because you wrote the poem that you’re analyzing. Says who? … According to transactional theory under reader-response criticism, “Even authors’ stated intentions in writing their texts, as well as any interpretations they may offer afterwards, are but additional readings of the text, which must be submitted for evaluation to the text-as-blueprint just as all other readings are.” (Tyson 159-160). A text becomes its own entity after being published. So, yes, maybe I wrote this poem. However, if my intent as an author when writing this piece no longer matters, then my response to the poem is also valid according to reader-response Theory. I see. Yes. Now, will you please stop interrupting? It’s rude and I’m trying to write a paper. Sorry, I’ll try. Thanks.

So, the initial question is who is “you”? If the reader were to read the poem from the standpoint that the narrator’s voice was speaking, then the reader could assume that he or she became the “you” who was being spoken to. In fact, when I wrote this poem, I was thinking about a specific boy. I told you that this would get in the way. Excuse me? Your memories of writing the poem, the emotional connection that you still have to it – they all get in the way and make it impossible for you to read this poem from the standpoint of the reader. You can’t escape being the author. Yes I can. It might take a little bit more work, but I can do it. It might just take a little bit more focusing to think about what this poem makes me feel now instead of dwelling on my original intent, but I can do it. Okay, fine. But don’t say that I didn’t warn you. This was originally one of those semi-angsty love poems and was in reference to a very long and secret love poem that I had written, but had no intention of ever showing him. This is a sort of break-up poem. I rarely admit that aloud, but on page the admission seems somehow safer, more private. It’s almost like the secret of the poem – the page is a safer place to express the inner thoughts than if spoken aloud. When ideas are spoken, then the individual must claim them as his or her own. However, when ideas are printed on a page, the author can (forgive the pun) write them off as “artistic expression of an ‘idea’”. However, as a reader, I have been stripped of my original narrator’s voice. My target audience is taken out of the picture and I am left with an undefined audience. And yet, I can’t escape the nagging feeling that I’m being spoken to in this poem. The “you” is me. I am talking to myself. And honestly, when I read it that way, the poem becomes completely different than how I originally wrote it.

Are you kidding me? What now? I thought this was an academic research paper. It is. Right. Well, as far as I can tell, you’ve basically turned this into a creative writing exercise as part of a lame excuse to talk about analyzing your poem. It is a research paper. I’m not seeing much research so far. Well, that’s because you keep interrupting me. Sorry. I hate it when I interrupt myself. And this is a research paper. I have sources. Look, here are a few:

The purpose of criticism as “in all branches of knowledge, theology, philosophy, history, art, science, [is] to see the object as in itself it really is” (Arnold 809).

“Reader-response theory, by contrast, is properly an effort to provide a generalized account of what happens when human beings engage in a process they call ‘reading’” (Harkin 411).

Also, “different readers may read the same text quite differently. In fact, reader-response theorists believe that even the same reader reading the same text on two different occasions will probably produce different meanings because so many variables contribute to our experience of the text” (Tyson 154).

Okay, so what are these supposed to mean? Well, in his article, “The Function of Criticism at the Present Time,” Matthew Arnold explains that the purpose of reading is to find an understanding of reality, as we know it. However, our life experiences and knowledge influence our understanding of reality. To approach a text without the sum total of what we know is impossible for us as human beings. So, what does that have to do with the rest of your argument? I’m getting there. Patricia Harkin says in her article entitled “The Reception of Reader-Response Theory” that reader-response happens when a person reads. Thus, since I am literate, I am qualified to write about my reader-response to the poem that I wrote. Oh. And the third? I’m telling you: in Lois Tyson’s book Critical Theory Today, she explains that not only do reader-responses vary from individual to individual, but the reader-response of an individual can vary from reading to reading. Experiences or knowledge gained can change our understanding of a text. This explains why when I read my poem, I have two different responses running through my head. The first is, of course, remembering writing this poem to Eric – although he never knew that I wrote it for him. Of course, I don’t think that there’s much in the poem that gives way to the idea that the poem was born out of thwarted romantic inspirations. There are a few hints, I suppose. I wrote that the poem that “you will never see” is “buried in my heart.” I confessed that “you frighten me,” like having my soul exposed and recognized despite my best attempts at creating a clever façade. You didn’t cite this. I don’t need to. I wrote the poem, so, as the author, I give myself permission to write a paper about it. Oh. The poem closes with a dedication:

And so,
This poem
That you will never see –
I dedicate it to you.

However, even the dedication is not overtly romantic. People dedicate books to their mothers, mentors, pets – the relationship does not have to be romantic. However, the irony of the poem is that I am trying so hard to mask the fact that its origins are romantic. I am mildly successful in the use of my “skewed codes of language” that still give way to the impression that the intended reader holds some special place in my heart. Despite my effort to hide what I am really saying in this poem, my words were proved “obvious in their meaning” when my roommate, after hearing it read aloud asked, “is it about a boy?” I still don’t see why you just listed off those sources – one right after the other. It doesn’t provide for a very smooth flow in your paper. It doesn’t look very professional. Well, I just wanted to show you that I’d done some research. You have this annoying habit of interrupting, after all.

Back to the question “you:” Wolfgang Iser, in his article entitled “Interaction between Text and Reader” explains, “a narrative text […] is comprised of a variety of perspectives, which outline the author’s view and also provide access to what the reader is meant to visualize. As a rule, there are four main perspectives in narration: those of the narrator, the characters, the plot, and the fictitious reader” (Iser 1677). However, since the narrator has a voice, this mysterious entity becomes a character in the text, as does the so-called “fictitious reader” when he or she interprets the text. The reader has the options of assuming the role of the narrator’s voice, the role of “you,” or the role of an uninvolved third-party who is observing a confession between the narrator and “you.” Since I directly address “you,” and since my poem elicits an emotional response from the reader, the option of assuming the role of the eavesdropping third party becomes weak, if not inaccurate. The reader is left with two roles to assume in the story of this poem, then: the narrator or “you.”

Laura Mulvey in her article “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” discusses narrative and audience participation in the gaze. Oh boy! Psychological Theory! This is great! I had to study this a lot for a presentation, so I really know what I’m talking about here! Oh, no. What? I’m being interrupted again. Hey, I’ve been quiet. I let you write a whole paragraph without butting in. But I’m being supportive! I’m excited about this! This is ridiculous. How am I going ever going to write a paper analyzing my poem if I keep getting interrupted? Personally, I think it’s fitting that you’re having all these voices interrupt you now that you’re getting psychological with your reader-response criticism. I think we should analyze you. Now’s not a good time. It’s never a “good” time. I think it’s a great idea! Let’s do it now! No, but – it might be a better use of time than the paper you’ve been trying to write. Are we going to do it? No, I don’t think that it’s a good idea – yes, we’re going to do it. YAY! Ooh, ooh – are we going to use Freud? No, Freud is overrated. We’re going to apply Lacan’s theories because that’s more interesting to me. That’s pretty arbitrary, don’t you think? I don’t care. I’m the one doing the analyzing here, not you.

Let’s see…in looking through “The Mirror Stage as Formative,” by Jacques Lacan, I’m able to find a few things that I think you might be dealing with here. I’m of the opinion you suffer from “a certain dehiscence of the heart of the organism [you], a primordial Discord betrayed by the signs of uneasiness” (Lacan 1287). Clearly, you still struggle with feelings of chaos and fragmentation since you are fighting with the rest of us. You have a “fragmented body-image” so you have assumed “the armour of an alienating identity, which will mark with its rigid structure [your] entire mental development” (Lacan 1288). The libido of your “primary narcissism” for self-preservation makes itself apparent in your struggle to control this paper, and your sexual libido produces itself in your poem and in your attempted analysis of your poem (Lacan 1289). Your anxiety that you experience reflects the realization that you are isolated from your parents. You simultaneously fear your mother and envy her for the lack of connection that you have with her. You feel abandoned. I’m pretty sure that I just experienced a death impulse. Ha ha! That’s funny! Basically, you just might be crazy. No, that’s not the point. Your neurosis is actually normal. We “understand the inertial characteristic of the formations of the I [the id], and find there the most extensive definition of neurosis – just as the captation of the subject by the situation gives us the most general formula for madness, not only the madness that lies behind the walls of asylums, but also the madness that deafens the world with its sound and fury” (Lacan 1290). So, basically, I’m normal. Yes, you just suffer from anxiety brought on after the mirroring stage. Clearly, that anxiety is manifesting itself in your inability to get along with others. Are you a doctor? No. Have you studied this in depth? Well, I read this article. Alright then, I’m going to ask you to please be quiet from here on out. You are not qualified to analyze me and this conflict that you keep referencing is brought about by an irritation of being constantly interrupted. Oh, but I thought that – you too. It just seemed to me like you keep othering yourself throughout this whole process. I don’t even want to get into that. Sorry.

Going back to Mulvey, she explains that in a film, there are three gazes: the gaze of the main character(s) in the film, the gaze of the camera, and the gaze of the audience members. The gaze of the audience is subject to the gaze of the character, with the gaze of the camera serving as an intermediary to smoothly bring the viewpoint of the audience into alignment with the characters in the story. The audience has no choice but to become a character in the film. Similarly, the reader comes to identify with the characters of a text. Yet, because of my experiences (of writing this poem) I have the interesting position as a reader of identifying with both the narrative voice and “you.” This poem then becomes a question of identity.

As the reader, I can analyze myself as the narrative voice. In her brief analysis of my poem, guest editor of the literary journal Synecdoche and author, Rhoda Huffey, writes, “the poet uses negative constructions, what is not, to tell us who she is, to tell us of the fragile and passionate entity who almost cannot bear to be seen, but who must be seen. Don’t Look Up Here! it screams, like the sign on the Crab Cooker Restaurant in Newport Beach” (Huffey v-vi). To phrase her assessment differently, I might tell you that the message of this poem is, “I can’t not be loved, but I’m not going to ask you to love me.” With lines about the unseen poem that “I have buried in my heart so deeply” to the point where “I’m not sure that even I can find it,” and with comments like, “you frighten me” in regards to the idea of perceptively being known and understood, a fragile invitation presents itself to play seek-and-find with a person who, for so long, has kept their heart in hiding. Of course, this interpretation lends itself if I adopt the role of “you” only. When I accept the role of the narrative voice and the role of “you,” I am presented with a different interpretation.

In the first line, I inform myself, “This poem is not the poem that you will never see.” In response to the question of where that unseen poem is hidden lies the response, that I have buried it deeply within my heart. The poem is inside of me. In an attempt at reaching self-discovery I produce “the many poems that I have cranked out.” I will never be able to find the unseen poem because, as a human, I am so multi-faceted that one literary piece cannot capture all of who I am. I am constantly growing, learning, and changing. The thought of full self-discovery frightens me because a full recognition of my identity would reveal aspects about myself that I do not like. However, the search for identity continues because without an awareness of who I am, I am lost. Thus, as a closing line, I acknowledge my unending search for self-discovery with a dedication to myself. I offer “this poem that you will never see” like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I may never fully arrive at self-discovery, but the further I travel towards my destination, the more I grow. “I dedicate it to you.”

Wow, you actually did it. Yeah, I told you that I could. Is this a sort of “congratulations?” I guess it is. I’m impressed. I didn’t think you could do it. I did! I did! And I’m so proud of you! I especially liked how you brought in the psychological stuff about Mulvey – although I wish you’d talked more about othering. I’m particularly pleased that you finally came to a place where you were able to analyze yourself. You brought up questions of identity, that was good. Okay, well thanks. I worked pretty hard on this, and I’m glad to finally have a finished product in front of me. I just have one question. Yeah? What’s your point? My point? I’ve been trying to prove you wrong. I’ve been trying to prove that I can analyze my poem. I’ve been trying to combat your incessant interrupting and mutinying of my paper in order to show that I can analyze my poem according to reader-response theory. I’ve been trying to show how my voice as an author holds legitimacy as a reader of the same text. That’s what you’ve been trying to do? Yes, that’s it. Oh, well then…I guess you did it. Thank you. I’m glad it’s finally over.

Bibliography

Arnold, Matthew. “The Function of Criticism at the Present Time.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Vincent B. Leitch. New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 2001. 806-825.

Harkin, Patricia. "The Reception of Reader-Response Theory." College Composition and Communication. Vol. 56. Feb. 2005: 410-25. JSTOR. 1 May 2009. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30037873.

Huffey, Rhoda. “Introduction: Voices.” Synecdoche. Vol. 4. Eds. Allison Blackwell and Kimberly Love. Costa Mesa: Synecdoche Literary Journal of Vanguard University, 2007. iii-vi.

Iser, Wolfgang. “”Interaction between Text and Reader.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Vincent B. Leitch. New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 2001. 1673-682.

Lacan, Jacques. “The Mirror Stage as Formative.” The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Vincent B. Leitch. New York: W. W. Norton and Company, 2001. 1285-1290.

Testrake, Rebecca. “This is not the poem that you will never see.” Synecdoche. Vol. 4. Eds. Allison Blackwell and Kimberly Love. Costa Mesa: Synecdoche Literary Journal of Vanguard University, 2007. 98-99.

Tyson, Lois. Critical Theory Today: A User-Friendly Guide. Garland, Inc.: New York, 1999.

Fear blooms into Freedom when stared straight in the face

So, I just got in the mail notification that what I was worried about has already happened: I wasn't able to work enough hours and I lost my benefits. Well, there goes my health insurance...guess it's time to look into a private plan...again.

On the plus side, this opens up a lot of opportunities that have been offered to me but I've been hesitant to take lest I should risk "losing my benefits." Benefits = gone.
Opportunities: here I come.

It's kind of exciting, really.

In which the writer writes...

So then I shot that sucker right out of the air. Bam. Right out of the sky.

My house is under attack by moths. Of course, we've responded to the challenge.
The problem with moths is that they leave grossness all over your hands when you smack 'em.
Somehow, I feel like there's metaphor in this.

I ran out of deodorant the other day...as in completely ran out...for a few days, actually. Oh, of course I was able to borrow some from the "emergency" ration at the end of the hall, but I hated it. I think it smelled weird. It was kind of a masculine smell, which I thought was interesting because it was labeled as "Jordache for Women." To make up for it I bought three different kinds from the store...and razors...and shaving cream. (So much for sticking to my shopping plan.) Ironically enough, one of them was a man's deoderant. (Why can't I properly spell that word on my own?) It's called "Wild Country" and I like it. Go figure.

So, things as of late:
~ I thought Grandpa Russ was going to die. But he didn't and he hasn't. It was the kind of thing where I had stopped praying for healing. And then God did it anyway. Oh me of little faith. And oh, what a great and loving God.

~ I wasn't sure how long my client has. I was told he's "living on borrowed time." But aren't we all? It turns out that he could go tomorrow...or he could go 30 years from now. That's the way it is with hearts. I've been praying this time. I have more peace about it. Funny though, how I can pray for him, but give up so easily on Grandpa Russ. I think God sees how bruised my heart is...
it's like He whispers, "Don't give up. Have faith in me."

~ Funny - how I'll give up on praying for the plausible, but hold on so fiercely to praying for the impossible.

~ I'm going to be in a film tomorrow for a grad student at Chapman. I'm just excited.

~ I finished my painting on Sunday.

~ After my success with TEN, I've been encouraged to submit my ten-minute plays to another, bigger festival in northern Arizona. There's a small entrance/submission fee, but I think I'm going to do it.

~ I found out on Monday that I'm going to be published at the undergrad level in the literary journal Synecdoche, again. I remembered yesterday that I submitted two pieces. I'm not sure which got chosen. (maybe one...or the other...or both!) However, the point is: I'm excited.

~ Today is April Fool's Day, which I hate.

~ Today is Maundy Thursday, which I don't know much about but feel irresistibly pulled to anyway. I can't help but feel drawn in by a sense of holy mystery. Even the term "holy week" has a gravitational feel to it for me.

~ I need to file my taxes.