Failed Experiments

Right now I am currently in the process of revising my piece, taking in Alex's suggestions. Another important criticism he gave me that I forgot to mention in my last blog post was my often incorrect use of complex vocabulary words.

Reflecting upon this comment, I wondered why I felt this need to use outrageous vocabulary. Was I trying to prove some sort of intellectual superiority? Or was I simply trying to see if I could use fancy vocabulary words for the fun of it? I realized, the answer was likely both. I view my work as an experiment. I see words in my readings, or in the thesaurus, and I want to use them. The problem is, I often don't know how.

I had two problems with incorrect diction. The first was a problem were I simply used a word incorrectly. For example, in one of my sentences I said

I acquired a collection of anachronistic facts which I could barely comprehend; the capital, the currency, the anthem.

This sentence is slightly revised so the grammar isn't great anyway. But more importantly, the word anachronistic was used inaccurately. I intended for the word to mean random, but anachronistic actually means out of sequence. So the above sentence is essentially nonsense.

The other problem I had was I would often use strong vocabulary words to describe something I didn't actually feel very passionately about. For example,

It was what he told me next that pierced my heart in a way that was irrevocable, and changed my outlook in a way that was irreversible.

At first when I wrote this sentence, I thought "wow that's so cool!" But here's pretty much what I meant to say.

It was what he told me next that surprised me, and opened me up to a different way of thinking.

Another example. I wrote this.

He made the desperately potent statement that would echo in my mind for months.

This is what I meant to say.

His sad statement left a strong impression on me.

Not quite so intense. But also, not nearly as ridiculous.

Although at first I felt embarrassed by my blatant writing errors, but then I felt better knowing that I least tried to use mature writing. I did an experiment, and it failed. Now I know for the future, and I'm happy for that. I'm going to attempt rewriting my sentences in a way that effectively combines metaphor and blatant feelings. Hopefully, this experiment will be more successful than the last one.

Workshop: Writing 2

I know the writing workshop was over a week ago, but I figure it would be good to respond to it anyhow.

I don't know why I was afraid of criticism. When people came to review my pieces, I found that I actually came to crave criticism. I wanted as much criticism as possible, so I could know everything was wrong. I was flattered by the compliments, but in the back of my head I was screaming "Tell me what's wrong!"

When Alex gave his critiques, I came to a strange sort of realization.

Although I had gone in believing that I wrote a piece of creative non-fiction, I began to feel like I had instead created some sort of psychological profile of myself. My writing was an explanation of my feelings and my inner conflicts. It was so honest, I don't feel particularly comfortable talking about it openly, so I'm sorry if this blog post is super vague.

Now, it's obvious my art is much about myself. All art is autobiographical. Especially creative non-fiction, which is quite literally, autobiographical art.

The thing is, when I received critique for my writing, I felt like I was receiving some sort of therapy. It's hard to describe. Somehow, the criticisms that Alex offered for my writing were indirectly words of advice for how I should handle my dilemmas.

For example, he said that I needed to keep my feelings consistant throughout the story. In my piece, I had a dichotomy between pitying and revering the people I interacted with. I wanted to believe that I had respected my friends throughout my piece. In truth, I had pitied them. It was clearly evident in my writing, but I did not realize it, because I never admitted it to myself. I can lie, but my writing can't. This new perspective not only changed my outlook on my writing, but also it changed my outlook on my life and my choices. Perhaps I have been too subjective towards myself, and that clouds my judgment.

An important aspect of creative non-fiction is to recognize that your story took place in the past, and in that past, you had different feelings than you do now. You were likely more foolish then. This makes you reluctant to be honest in your writing, because you don't want to admit that you were once immature, or wrong.

What can help you cope with your past humiliations is to realize that you are a different person now. You are more knowledgable than you were then. If you admit that, you can move on.

I hope to add a reflection to my piece in order to cope with these feelings. Even if I don't end up including it, I will feel a lot better know that I was honest to my feelings at the time and honest to my feelings now.

And maybe if I can develop a mature view on the situation, I will be able to decipher it more effectively and fix some of my issues.

Workshop: Writing 1

I think it's safe to assume that after taking a workshop I must blog about it. I think this is very safe to assume because I am taking a writing workshop.

Before the workshop, Luke sent us a radio play in which an English teacher talked about how she made her students write pieces to "reveal the darkest depths of your soul." This gave me the preconception that we were all going to share our pieces and cry together in some emotionally intense, falsified bonding experience. Thankfully, this did not actually happen. The workshop was more along the lines of what would be expected.

During the workshop, we mainly focused on the discussion of writing pieces and the topic of creative non-fiction. Alex Tunney passed around a writing piece he created about his childhood snacking habits, which he told us to mark up and note upon. I read though it and at first, I wasn't sure if this was an invitation to critique the piece. Once Alex clarified that it was, I took it upon myself to mark it up the way I generally critique my own writing: intently and objectively.

I didn't feel I was carrying myself away, but there was a clear difference between the Picasso-like art piece I had created upon my paper and the sparse notes upon everyone else's. I think many of us were shy to critique, because we did not feel as if we had the authority to correct our teacher, especially on our first day meeting him. I considered this, and came to the conclusion that whatever critique I could offer, as long as it was proactive, could not be any worse than what Alex has received as an English major in college.

One important thing that I've learned about education is that in order to fully take advantage of a good teacher, you must actively engage with them. Therefore, I wasn't afraid to speak up and participate. I also figured that if I could help start a discussion or two, it would pave a way for everyone else to participate. It's always difficult to be the first person to speak, but lately I've been finding that I play that role frequently. Some people tell me I "wear the pants." As long as they're feminine pants I'm alright with that.

So after reading through Alex's piece, he moderated a discussion about it both as a teacher and as the writer of the piece. We began with compliments, because those are always the easiest to warm the waters with. I liked a number of the metaphors he used, and as a whole, I thought it he had created a decent piece of writing.

Soon though, the discussion moved into the realm of critique. I think many fear critiquing others because they can see the same critiques being used upon themselves. Although many acknowledge that critique is helpful, I think it takes a while for a person to accept critiques without being personally hurt, especially with something as blatant and vulnerable as writing. I admit, I am afraid of others critiquing my art, but I am willing to face this fear because I know it is an irrational one that I ought to overcome if I am to progress.

Once the discussion started flowing, everyone was engaged. A number of people made some good points about literary devices and grammar. We didn't have much to say about the theme of the piece or it's overall cohesiveness, although it seemed like Alex was attempting to aim the discussion in that direction. It was difficult for me to discuss the purpose because I couldn't quite think of one worthy of putting into words. To me, the story seemed like an entertaining tale about Alex's eating habits developing overtime. I didn't see anything wrong with having that just as it was.

At the end of the workshop we all received books of creative non-fiction to read. I happened to end up with the one called How to Be Inappropriate by Daniel Nester, featuring a lovely cover of a man sticking his thumb out of his fly in order to make it look like a penis.

I hear there's an interesting story about feet licking

In addition to reading from our books, we have to send our pieces to each other for critique. Reading Alex's writing piece gave me comfort in sharing mine, but I am nervous for the next workshop where we share our critiques. Although I thought my piece was generally well written and coherent, I didn't get as much time to revise it as I would've liked, and I also had a lot of trouble finding a clear purpose within it. I don't know how an audience will interpret it. Also, I feel vaguely embarrassed by it, but I'm not quite sure why because it doesn't include anything about me that's particularly embarrassing.

In addition, I hope that I don't end up writing to harshly upon other people's pieces. I won't let that stop me, because often my edits have been able to help people. I went through 2 drafts of my brother's college essay and he made it into RIT early decision, so I'm probably doing something right.

At any rate, I'm excited for the next workshop, and I'm glad that we're building an artistic community.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (The Inefficacy of the Imagination and Art)

For the past few weeks, I've been reading a book call The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. The book proposed an interesting question that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.

The book is about two Jewish cousins who make comic books during World War 2. Sammy Clay is Brooklyn born, and Kavalier is an expatriate from Czechoslovakia. Although he was able to escape from Nazi Europe, the rest of his family remains trapped. He and his cousin create a comic book character called The Escapist, a man who can escape from any trap. He fights to free trapped people around the world, and the story is an obvious allegory for the European conflict.

Joe becomes obsessive over his metaphorical fight against the Nazis via art, but he struggles with the fact that no matter how much the "Razis" are beaten up in his comic books, the real conflict remains the same. He gets into fights with all of the Germans he sees because he feels powerless. He chains himself to his drawing desk and becomes obsessive over his work, not allowing any time for pleasure.

Eventually, he gets a bomb threat, and his publishing company wants him to stop metaphorically beating up Nazis. His cynical editor George Deasey tells him this.

"This kind of work is a graveyard for every kind of ambition, Kavalier. Take my word for it. Whatever you hope to accomplish, whether from the art of out of...other considerations, you will fail. I have very little faith in the power of art, but I remember the flavor of that faith, if you will, from when I was I was your age...But this. Powerless. Useless."

This caught my attention. I've heard quite a lot of art as salvation against the world, but I never heard of money as a salvation against art. How does artistic expression become detrimental? Isn't the corporation the evil part? But if you think about it, the concrete corporation can give you more sanity than art.

It's probably a habit of a majority of artists to create an imaginary world in which they are victorious, or important in some way. Visual artists can literally create the image of whatever they please. Other forms of art can warp the world as desired. One of my definitions of art is that art is a metaphor to reality. It is not reality itself. It is a re-imagining of what already exists.

It's nice to live in your imagination. But there's always one trap that all people fall into. Your imagination is not real. Everything you envision in your head does not exist. It is a lie, and you can't live inside of it forever.

There is a need of all people to have some sense of reality, even if they thrive in a metaphysical world. This is because you cannot fully live inside of your imagination. There is always something to pop the bubble, and when it pops, you suddenly realize how bad your reality is. Though you can run away and hide in your bubble again, there will always be forces that remove you from that safe space, because that's what always happens. Though Joe Kavalier could live in his bubble for a while, he couldn't hide when his publisher gave him the ultimatum of ending his fictitious war against the Nazis or losing his job.

To a certain extent, everyone lives in their own version of reality that's adapted to what they want to see and observe. In order to cope with the fact that we are menial beings in the scope of the universe, we feel the need to develop an individual outlook on the world. In order to avoid pain, we create a construct in which we avoid all things we perceive as harmful. When this idea of reality is destroyed, we believe that the world is working against us. This is not the case. Just because things don't go your way doesn't mean the world is to blame. Your mind cannot control the world, but you can control your mind into thinking it can. It won't help you much.

I believe that every kind of emotional breakdown people experience stems from one thing, and one thing only: Reality letting down personal expectations. You can run, but the longer you have expectations, the more you end up frustrated, disappointed, and powerless. 

I wonder though, can a person be an artist if they don't live off of expectations? If Joe didn't feel the need to metaphorically defeat the Nazis, could he make comic books? Most artists come from difficult backgrounds. They use art as a coping mechanism for their powerlessness in the world. Though art does make a good distraction, is art actually an effective coping mechanism, or does it lift you up into a fantasy world, making it a harder fall when you tumble back into existence? Perhaps, but on the hand, it's probably fine in balanced doses. Xanax relieves pain, which is good, but if you use too much you die, which is bad.

Joe Kavalier stopped being obsessive when he got a girlfriend and his life became more hopeful. Though he continued to battle the Nazis, he created other comic book characters that had no relevance to the Nazi conflict. He worked less, and started living a more normal life.

So from all of this, I suppose there are a few things I can conclude. Art is a way of accomplishing your expectations of the world in some concrete form. However, art is not reality. Artistic expression is a coping mechanism for the disappointment that stems from the failure to achieve your expectations, with varying levels of success. If you take art too literally though, and get confused between imagination and reality, you can plunge into insanity.

Perhaps this is why artists are such broken people. And perhaps this is why I've had so much trouble finding the desire to make art, because I don't have problems like I used to. At least not dire ones. At the moment.

The Untethered Soul

First of all, I have to say that never in my life would I ever imagine myself reading any sort of self-help book, especially one dealing with spirituality. All throughout my life I dismissed such work as false, useless junk that is only read by stay-at-home moms in upperclass households trying to find meaning out of their empty lives. I mean, that's what Oprah and Martha Stewart and all those other people do.

Regardless, The Enneagram and other forms of spiritual self-analysis have always been a secret passion of mine. I am susceptible to searching for spiritual connections outside of mainstream religion, probably because I was raised in an atheist household and I always wondered if there was more to life than meets the eye.

God, I can't believe I'm even saying this. I can't believe I read a spiritual self-help book and it actually helped. It is completely outside my character, my lifestyle, and my beliefs to even acknowledge something greater than what I see in front of me. But sometimes, things take a turn for the unexpected, and I'm going to try my best to explain the book and spirituality as I understand it.

Who are you?

One topic the book delved into was this question. Now, there are many ways a person can answer this question, and it is likely all of the questions they will give are wrong. Perhaps a person could say,

Who are you?

I am Ellen Cooper.

But no, I am not Ellen Cooper, at least I am not just Ellen Cooper. The phrase I use to identify myself is nothing but a collection of letters that reads out phonics into a pronounceable word. If my name wasn't Ellen, would I cease to exist?

Who are you?

I am a junior at Herricks High School. I live on Long Island with my family. I performed on the accordion for my school's musical last year. 

No, this isn't who I am either. These are things that have happened in my life, but that doesn't mean that is who I am. Your life is not defined by the events that have happened to you. I did perform in Fiddler on the Roof, but that is not happening to me right now, so is that who I am?

Who are you?

I think, therefore I am.

A lovely quite from Descartes, but wrong again. You are not your thoughts. You simply observe your thoughts.

Who am I?

You are not the objects in your life, or what you observe around you. You are not your thoughts. You are not your emotions. You are the observer who sees these things.

What does this mean? It means that everything you define yourself by is arbitrary. You are not a person. You are an essence who is aware of the things around them. It's a strange concept. Let me try to explain this further.

You're at a party, and someone tells you, "You're ugly." You think, "I'm angry because this person just insulted me." But that is not true. You feel angry. This feeling is not a part of you, it is simply observed by you. A feeling is nothing more than a sensation that enters your body. This sensation can leave, if you identify its cause, justify it, and then release it from you.

First, you realize, "I feel angry." Why do you feel angry? "Because I've been insulted." Why does this insult affect you? "Because I feel somewhat self-conscious about my appearance." Why? "Because I feel like I'm unattractive." Why? "Because Larry made fun of my nose in the 7th grade and I still feel self-conscious about it."

This is letting yourself be defined by events. Perhaps Larry did make fun of your nose, but that was years ago. Why should you still care? It makes no logical sense for you to care. What if you just decided you didn't care? What if you said, "I like my nose because it's mine and because it's human."

Now, let's rewind. If you are ok with your nose, you don't feel unattractive. If you don't feel unattractive, you feel attractive. If you feel attractive, then what does one person calling you ugly matter? There are 6 billion people on this planet. If one of them has a problem with you, it shouldn't matter, logically. 

In fact, perhaps this person only called you ugly because they feel ugly. If that's the case, you shouldn't be angry. You should feel bad for them for having to put someone else down, and hope that one day they will decide to live a happier life.

And now that you have gone through this process, you can let it go. It happened, and it is gone. It doesn't matter.

The voice inside your head

You're trying to sleep, but you're having one of those nights where your mind can't stop thinking. You're thoughts go like this.

"Did I pass my chemistry test? I hope I passed my chemistry test? I studied so much. If I do badly my parents will be so upset with me. It will drop my grade. Oh I'm so worried?"

Let's think about this logically. There is nothing you can do to change your chemistry grade. Once the test is taken, it is taken. Your score will be returned to you and that is that. Your thoughts don't change the outcome. They are a useless waste of time that bother you and hinder you.

Let's explore this further. You're going on a walk, and in order to entertain yourself you narrate your life around you.

"What a pretty house. I love the pink and purple color. Oh, look at that dog! It looks just like my dog Rufus. That flower is delightful. I think it's a daisy."

Why do you narrate yourself? You can see the house, the flowers, and the dog. Is there a need for you to point these things out? Your mind automatically analyzes so many objects around you. If you stopped wasting time trying to pick out items from your vision, you will observe so much more of the outside world.

Doesn't this voice get annoying after a while? Imagine if the voice in your head was a real person, with all of its doubt, panic, and incessant talking. You would HATE that person! So why do you put up with it? What if you were to just stop? What if you just let the voice go?

Letting Go

Your life becomes exponentially more simple if you just let things go. People keep the burdens of their past events, failures, and future worries on their back. They hold onto these things because they feel as if they must have something concrete to define themselves by. Everyone holds these burdens. They hide them and pretend they don't exist, and instead of dealing with their problems, they simply find more ways to cover them up.

Think about it like a thorn. The pains we carry are like thorns in our body. There are two options. You can cover up the thorn and find ways to deal with it, without removing it. This appeals to most people, because removing the thorn of psychological pain is a difficult and painful process. But it's not productive on the long run. If you really want to free yourself of the burdon, you must remove the thorn, and let it go.

The world forgives you

If there is really a god out there, observing us from the heavens, do you think that he will hold your petty flaws against you? Of course not! A person who observes sees that the world is beautiful, with all of its flaws. An observer doesn't care what is happening so long as something is happening. Everything is incredible to them, and nothing can ruin that.

So whatever you have done, you are forgiven. And whatever you may do, you are also forgiven. You will always be forgiven, because in the scope of the whole world, what you do doesn't matter all that much.

Being an observer

People always complain about how much they hate their lives, and how much they hate the world. This is simply because the world does not fit the expectations that they generate for themselves in their head. The world does not work in a way that is predictable to them, and because of that, they fear the world, and they hide themselves from reality.

If you have no expectations, you cannot be disappointed. You will see that everything around you is incredible. The miraculous system that holds everything together is complex and beautiful. Everyday is a miracle. Every day you're alive and living is a miracle. We can die at any moment. What a great way to appreciate life around us to realize that it can always be taken away.

How this relates to every religion ever

You may think after reading this that what I say reminds you of a certain religion. Freeing yourself of desire is quite Buddhist. Forgiving yourself for inevitable sin is a very Christian concept. But if you look closely, you will see that despite all of the conflicts that take place between religions, they are all essentially they same thing. The thing that religion connects you to is difficult to put into words. That's why there are so many interpretations with their own nuances and technicalities. There is an energy that connects everything, and we feel it if we choose to remove ourselves from our complex human intricacies.

That is the best way I can describe my thoughts at the moment. I hope that was somewhat coherent. I did base much of what I wrote from the book.

Workshop: Songwriting with Brian

Brian began the work by introducing himself and what he does. What fascinated me was the way he talked about his passion for teaching. Basically, he said that as we grow older, we acquire knowledge, and it is our responsibility to pass on that knowledge and pass on that legacy. He talked about one of his most precious teachers, an 80 year old man who came out of retirement because he was so passionate about his job. Brian met with this teacher for half an hour every week. I don't know why, but this captivated me. I once believed being a teacher is what someone did when they gave up on their chance on a personal career, but what I see now is that being a teacher is creating a legacy for yourself, making you live on beyond yourself. It's admirable. It's beautiful.

Perhaps I should talk more about the songwriting, considering how that's what the workshop was really about. Brian outlined the music business. This is the breakdown of a record, from what I can remember, and what I can piece together with my late night mental mush.

49% for the songwriter/songwriters
26% for the record company
20% for the music distributor (the store)
4% for you
(give or take a few percentage points)

Now, let's consider you're given a contract for $1,000,000. First of all, a contract is a loan, not a gift. You have to pay it back. This is how the contract is divided.

$700,000 for recording an album/studio time
$300,000 for the manager

As you can see, you're only getting $700,000 to make the record, but you STILL have to pay back all $1,000,000. And you don't make a single cent off your CD until you do that.

So factor 4% of album profit into paying back $1,000,000 in debt. It's fucking ridiculous. I wanted to ask how illegal downloads factor into the situation, but I didn't quite get the chance. On the other hand, most of this stuff doesn't matter, because a lot of people produce out of their basements and promote themselves.

We heard some of Brian's songs as well. He's currently in the process of creating a musical about vampires and Mexicans in motor bikes. I think most of us were relieved by how our own personal songs were not the feature of the workshop. I know for me, I wrote mine 2 days before.

But of course we did end up presenting our songs, and I went first because I like taking initiative. Brian didn't say much in particular about my song, but he recommended to all of us that we try to write a song daily. He showed us some of the songs he wrote on his computer, and he had a total of around 80.

During the workshop, I started having this strange feeling where everything started fixing into place. Suddenly, it all made sense, it didn't seem so scary and complicated. When Brian played his songs I knew his process. When Brian talked about daily practice, I understood that the reason people don't do things is not because of a lack of time, but instead, a lack of making time and having discipline.

I wouldn't say I felt strongly motivated to write more music, but I did think it was a worthwhile workshop and I thought Brian was a great guy.

On the other hand, I am almost done with my notebook, which is quite a milestone. I've been using the same notebook since I first began writing songs back in 9th grade, and now I only have one page left. I may just tear it out so I don't have to feel the pressure of making a worthwhile song to complete my set. In fact, I'm going to do that right now.

*throws away paper*

I can now say that I have finished my first notebook. Wow! This is such a milestone!

Inner Voices: Log

I will admit, John and I had the goal in mind today that we would complete the music for the opera/R&B musical delight. I will admit, we did not accomplish anything.

I want to take a moment and analyze the artistic process that I have used thus far in the project to see where and what I should be doing next.

When Luke gave me the script for the opera, I took it with bold optimism. Without any kind of preconceptions, I wrote the music. Having Anika and Danny with me was a huge help. What happened was that I would play a few chords, Anika and Danny would improvise a vocal line, and then I would record the line. I have a collection of recordings on my phone for each musical line. After about a period of work, we all needed to take a break, but we accomplished quite a lot. Almost half the script was composed.

Then Luke asked me if I could finish the opera at home. I attempted this, but I could not complete the opera. I got stuck, unable to think of vocal lines and chord progressions. I could write a few pieces, but I couldn't assemble something particularly coherent. My hope was that I would be able to bring the piece to school and attempt the same process as before.

After the whole STAC Live mess, the opera was temporarily forgotten, until today when John and I revisited the piece. I showed him the recordings on my phone, but they were of such mediocre quality as to be almost inaudible. I attempted to play the opera on the piano, but without practice I stumbled on notes and chords, so that didn't work out well either. The opera wasn't completely coherent when I tried to play it as a whole. John pointed this out to me, and I agreed but I felt as if the beginning of the opera should have sporadic voices because it plays upon the value of surprise.

Another thing John and I discussed was the direction of the scene. It seemed like it was just a date with some singing (but we can't say just!). It seemed as if the opera was a joke that could not be prolonged because it wasn't going towards any particular direction. That probably means we should make it short and sweet, because it is definitely a funny shtick.

There wasn't much else to say after that. I didn't really know how to move the session towards writing more music. It didn't come to me as easily as it did when I had Anika and Danny assisting me. I was so uncertain, I ended up in a trap where I didn't much know why I was even doing anything at all. John asked me, "Do you want to keep the music you wrote? Do you want to rewrite this? Do you want to keep working on this?" I didn't have much of an answer to offer. It's probably my fault that we ended up being unproductive today because I couldn't make any definitive decisions. I had this hope that everything would be figured out tomorrow, and I spent the rest of the period dozing off.

Hopefully tomorrow we will be able to write music more effectively. I suggested to John that we have the singers assist in the composition process, but he's not sure if it's a good idea to get more people involved. We'll figure it out. Maybe.