My Middle School Diary

Yesterday, a friend of mine posted the terrible poetry he wrote in 7th grade on his blog. It was positively hilarious. This is what I was thinking as I read the poetry in a bout of insomnia at 4AM in the morning. I wondered if I myself owned such gems of immature angst.

I didn't write much poetry when I was younger, but I did keep a diary for sometime, and it was certainly hilarious.

Some names have been changed to protect the identities of those I thought would be cool to call douchebags.

Here, I proudly share with you my life and times as a 7th grader.

Ellen has fun with children

3/8/09

Today is when I realized Marissa is not an innocent little girl. She got into fights with her brother and Chris. I tried to break it up but it wasn't easy. She even said to me, "I bet you're too afraid to pick me up." What an attitude. That's not how you speak to someone three years older than you. 

Ellen lets her imagination roam free

3/9/09

Before school: Thought of the randomness thing - lesbian frogs

Ellen asks her English teacher an important question

3/11/09

Period 11: I asked Mr. Conroy if he knew what "That's what she said" meant. He told me to go sit down. 

Ellen has fun with friends

3/16/09

I have the impression Ben is trying to bully me...On Wednesday I said yay the SS Hw is due on Monday. Then he's like Ellen you're due on Monday. I think you're too young for that. 

Ellen learns about pop music

3/20/09

I finally figured out what If U Seek Amy means.

Ellen shops at French Connection

3/22/09

We went and bought this awesome dress for $130 (it was on sale). Then I performed at Steinway. I looked really good. In fact they clapped more when I came on than when I left. 

Ellen enters an insult battle

3/23/09

Ben and I went to WAR. It all started when Aaron was talking to a bunch of 6th graders. Ben called him a pedofile so I'm like haha your a pedofile now sing like Michael Jackson. Then Ben called me a rapist and said I raped a ton of people including Adam (Adam is a douche). I got mad so I said he raped Sally, to which he replied, "Yes, but it was horrible. Never again."

I ran out of insults, so we made a truce at 4th period. 

The rest of the day was just like stuff, but guess what? Chicken butt. 

Ellen is homophobic

3/24/09

We watched a cool movie in SS. At least it WAS cool until right before we left and this guy was talking to this other guy and he's like what do you want? Then the other guy said you know what I want and KISSED him. Eww, gay kisses are gross.

Ellen can't stop asking questions

3/25/09

I made a bet in the morning that I wouldn't ask any questions until school started. I failed 2 seconds later when Aaron said "What's that?" and I'm like "What?"

Ellen sees an off off broadway show

3/28/09

My parents did something horrible. They made me see a sick, sick off off broadway show. 

I mean they pulled down a guy's pants and I'm pretty sure he was going commando. That, or he was wearing a black thong. They gave alcohol out to the audience. People drank beer and talked about sex and stuff. Not only that, it was all Balkan music, and I could barely understand what was going on. At least my bro shared in my pain. 

After the show was over, I litteraly said out loud loudly, What the fuck. I can't believe my parents make me see stuff like this. My mom was also drinking. Now I've learned to think twice before I see an off off broadway show. 

Ellen gets an iPhone

3/30/09

Today, I showed everyone my iPhone, but a lot of them already knew I had one through facebook. That's creppy. 

Ellen enjoys April Fools

4/1/09

Oh my gosh. I pulled the best prank ever. 

I had pixy stick. Some of them were used. I gave some people ones with pixy dust and others just empty containers. They looked like a little kid who's candy was taken away. Right before they cry. 

Ellen tries to explain a fight to a teacher

4/2/09

The other art teacher who I don't know came out and she's like what's going on. I told her they took Ryan's pants and she said too much information. 

Ellen goes to a Bat Mitzvah

4/3/09

Apparently Ben likes the Mets a lot. And to think I thought he was on the comp all day watching anime about frogs. 

...

We played more truth or dare, although it was more like dare byotch. I got dared to pat Ben's hair lovengly and lick a plate covered in pepper. 

My Intimate Experiences with Dora the Explorer

This is a piece inspired by the book How to be Inappropriate by Daniel Nester. He has written a number of creative non-fiction pieces in bulleted format, analyzing various events in his life, and I thought it would be a good format for me to try out.

My Intimate Experiences with Dora the Explorer

1. Dora the Explorer premiered on August 14th, 2000. I was 4 years old, and it was the day before my birthday. The show was destined to become a hit.
2. In elementary school, kids liked to show of their miscellaneous phrases of Spanish they knew. ¡Hola! ¿Cómo estás? Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco. I could only count to ten, but I wanted to count further.
   1. I asked my nanny Julia if she could teach me numbers beyond 10. She speaks Portuguese, which she claims is “the same thing.” Though she repeated her numbers multiple times, I could never remember any number past diez.
   2. That day we were celebrating her birthday. In order to avoid the embarrassment of admitting her old age, she told me that she was turning sixteen, dieciseis. I believed this for the next three years until I could rationally proportion ages.
3. At a garage sale, Julia bought me a Dora keychain. It contained a mini-marionette of Dora that hopped when you pressed a button. I played with this toy so much, it broke. Afterwards, I stopped watching Dora. I do not believe these events are related.
4. Once, an ice cream truck came around my neighborhood. I decided to purchase a Dora the Exporer ice pop. Unfortunately, I did not make the mental connection that her brown colored hair would be flavored chocolate. I do not like chocolate. I threw the ice pop in the trash.
5. In 2012, I taught comedy at a sleepaway camp. I did not know much about comedy, but a lack of qualification did not stop me from pursuing my dreams. My co-counselor was Gabby. She knew more than I did.
   1. We asked our campers what they found funny. One of them said, “I like it when stupid people don’t notice obvious things.” Gabby said this reminded her of Dora. Within this group of campers, there was a 15 year old boy from Venezuela. We all looked at him instantaneously. Fate was decided.
   2. This Dora impersonator was not in fact Latino. He was half-Italian and half-Basque. Basque is a wannabe country within Spain. No one ever asked about his ethnic makeup, because he looked generally Latino. His skin was olive and his hair was cut near his ears.
      1. A side note: in Venezuela, Dora teaches English.
   3. Before the sketch can be performed, I had to be gather props. Coincidentally, I owned a purple Kipling backpack. This became Dora’s backpack. Inadvertently, I had owned a Dora backpack for a number of months. I couldn’t believe I had never realized this.
   4. The sketch was a success. The Dora impersonator gained legendary status, and so did Gabby and me.
6. At that camp, I lacked the ability to tell time because we could not use our phones in public. When my mother came to visit, she took me to Walmart so I could buy a watch. I entered the children’s watch section, and I figured I should look around in a different part of the store. However, when I noticed a shiny Dora watch sitting on the shelf, I knew that it was for me.
   1. This watch had plastic attachments marking every day of the week. The first day I wore that watch was a Friday.
   2. After camp was over, I never stopped wearing that watch. I wore it every single day into the school year. At first people humorously commented on this exquisite artifact, but soon it became another mundane aspect of life.
   3. Two weeks after I bought the watch, it already began to break down. The plastic ring that kept the extra length of wrist wrap in place broke down. I replaced it with a broken hair tie. This lasted for months.
      1. Until one day. I had to run the mile during gym class, but I forgot my hair tie at home. I tried to use the hair tie from my watch. Unfortunately, when I tried to wrap my hair in it, the tie broke. It was a sweaty day.
   4. Occasionally, I would forget to switch the proper date, and the false labeling on my watch would make me anxious. In order to calm my nerves, I would reverse the obsolete date onto the blank side so that it could no longer be seen. Instead of having a Wednesday label on a Thursday, I would have a white label that I interpreted as “Not Wednesday.”
   5. Overtime, these plastic labels wore out and lost their attachability. One day near the end of December, my social studies class was switched to a different room. The Wednesday label fell off my watch and I could not find it. At that point I only had six days of the week. I did not want to give the other days of the week an unfair prejudice, so I dumped all of the labels into the trash. I still kept the basic Dora watch.
7. Not everyone was accepting of my watch. My friend Besmah would ask me during social studies why I liked it so much. At that point, the Dora watch was more of a habitual object than an expression of my interest in bilingual children’s television.
   1. Besmah asked what I could do to change my watch. I told her she would have to buy me a new one.
   2. I asked her why she didn’t like my watch. Eventually she admitted that it terrified her. I teased her for a week.
   3. She never bought me a new watch.
8. Throughout the year of the Dora watch, I met a number of friends of the Dora impersonator.
   1. His friend Tony came to New York, and we decided to meet up. Tony is a rich boy in a rich family. He shops at Bergdorf Goodman and wears cologne from Polo Ralph Lauren. He noticed my watch. He said, “you need a new watch.”
   2. I did not tell him that he should buy me a new watch. I did not think we had reached that point of intimacy in our relationship yet.
9. My nanny Julia has a grandson. She keeps her grandson at my house at various times throughout the week. His name is Christian.
   1. When Christian lays next to me, he often grabs at my watch. A few times, I have taken off the watch so he could examine it. He likes put its in his mouth. It doesn’t bother me though. After a while, you get used to toddler saliva.
   2. Christian’s favorite TV show became Dora the Explorer. Julia set the television to Nick Jr. each day so he can watch. When Dora came on the screen, he bounced up and down in his crib with excitement.
      1. This influx of Dora was quite helpful to me because I was trying to learn Spanish. This was for two reasons. First of all, I had always wanted to become bilingual, but my French classes rubbed me the wrong way and I never got a full grasp on the language. Secondly, the friends of the Dora impersonator spoke Spanish, so I figured that was as good an excuse as any to attempt the language.
         1. I can now count past ten in Spanish.
   3. Christian acquired all sorts of various Dora memorabilia. He had a plastic imitation of the backpack, which played music. He banged it on the ground so the music would play over and over.
      1. I still think my Dora backpack is better.
   4. He also came with Dora DVDs. He put these DVDs in his mouth. He puts everything in his mouth.
   5. Julia begged me to play the DVD. I placed it in the Playstation 3 hoping it would work. Somehow, it was still operational.
   6. This summer, Julia asked me to help her out with her garage sale. Even though she was leaving for Portugal that following Thursday, she insisted on having a garage sale because her son Victor bet her 100 dollars that she couldn’t. Christian sat on the steps. He watched his Dora DVD at least 20 times.
10. I never stopped wearing that Dora watch, but overtime it became less and less operational.
    1. I thought that the watch had died in January because no numbers appeared on the screen. The watch ended up returning to normal the next day. At that point though, it was no longer reliable. Sometimes it would work, and sometimes it would not.
11. On the day my Dora watch actually died, I was sitting in the back of the Herricks Summer Music orchestra, now a counselor of viola instead of comedy, although if you ask me, the viola is still a joke.
    1. My stand partner was an orchestra student teacher. He was a cellist but he wanted to improve his viola abilities, so he decided to join the orchestra of middle schoolers.
    2. At a particularly dull point of time, I showed him my blank watch and commented, “I think I need a new watch.” He told me about a friend of his who has a girlfriend named Dora. Dora has short black hair. Dora is Mexican. Dora looks just like Dora the Explorer. So he says.
12. Now, I believe the Dora watch is dead.
    1. Though the watch is gone, the memories I had with that dear watch will last forever.
    2. Besmah will probably be pleased that my watch is gone.
    3. No hablo mucho en español, pero puedo contar las diez.
    4. Tony is now one of my best friends. I’m hoping after reading this, he will buy me a new watch. My birthday is August 15th. You should bookmark that Tony.
       1. I’ll be waiting.

Differentiating Between the Shoulds and the Wants

This summer, I decided to mellow out. Instead of going off to live in the middle of nowhere Connecticut, residing in a small cabin without air conditioning and walking through the dirt in flip flops just to get to the shower, I have spent this month largely at home, leaving in the mornings to work at the Herricks Summer Music Camp. The camp is only from 8-11AM, so it gives me a reason to wake up, but it doesn't eat up my day.

During the school year, I yearned for the summer to come so I could work on all the projects I didn't feel I had time for. I could read all of the large history books in my father's library. I could listen to all the CD's in my mother's library. I could learn Spanish, weave friendship bracelets, cook, clean, and make delicious cocktails (virgin of course). I believed that if I spent my time diligently, I could accomplish these tasks, at least partially.

Even if that didn't work though, I hoped that in the excessive free time, I would become so bored that I would stumble upon some major life revelation, perhaps one that would let me know what I want to do in college. Frida Kahlo decided she wanted to be an artist after being forced to stay sedentary in her hospital bed. If I had enough free time, inevitably I would find what I love to do, so as not to go insane.

When the summer time came, I noticed my reluctance to pursue many of the goals I had previously set out. Though I read an excellent history book on Brazil, I had little desire to read any of the other books in my father's library. I attempted to read a book on Russian history, but put it down after the first 20 pages on the grounds that I couldn't follow all of the miscellaneous tribes running around the place during the Middle Ages. Hungarian history was much the same story, which is a shame because I will be going to Hungary in a week.

With CDs, I had a similar tale. In order to learn my classics, I grabbed whatever CDs I could find and uploaded them into my iTunes. However, when I tried to listen to the likes of Shostakovich, I became nearly delirious. The music affected my mood in such a way that I felt myself becoming more emotional, and slowly going insane. I had to shut it off.

I made a few friendship bracelets, but then I abandoned the activity. I worked on my Spanish, but that too faded into the corners of my mind.

What was I doing instead? It's hard to say. I was actually cleaning. 10 months later, I finally cleaned the dirt and cobwebs from my basement studio. I even refurnished it with color coordinated bins, with some delightful color matching advice from resident color theory expert Danny Magaldi. I learned how to make grilled cheese, quesadillas, and wraps. I've also been reading a decent amount. Yesterday I finished Looking for Alaska and I am a little more than halfway through One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Márquez. Additionally, I have been chatting with friends on facebook, maybe a little too much.

Then, a few days ago, I came upon a revelation. I read an article in the New York Times about how many people feel guilty abandoning books partway through. The article preached that it was ok to abandon a book. So I placed my Hungarian history book to the side and decided to try and read something else to clear up my mind.

While browsing through my mother's various magazines, I stumbled upon Real Simple, a magazine about house keeping, cooking, cleaning, finances, and just general life advice. When I read it, I became infatuated with all of the simple life saving tips that it had to offer.

At first, I questioned this new found interest. "Why am I more interested in a lifestyle magazine than tales of monumental history?" I thought my feelings were shallow. In a world where there is suffering, poverty, political injustice, how could I be obsessed with such insubstantial things as cooking and beauty? It did not seem right for me to spend my time this way, when I should be cultivating my mind for the future, or focusing on more important issues.

Perhaps this has to do with the way that I was raised, but it always seemed to me that many seemingly "feminine" things that many women do are not only a waste of time but (pretentious statement coming) a reinforcement of the patriarchal paradigm, making women less empowered. Not to sound like a feminist, but things like dressing well, putting on makeup properly, cooking, beautifying the house, they take a lot of time. To me it seemed like that time could be spent doing something more practical, and less superficial. Not to mention, I had trouble accepting chivalry. I thought I should be able to do things myself. Having a man take care of tasks like holding doors and carrying heavy weights seemed patronizing to me. 

Then, I thought about my true desires. As a kid, I never learned how to dress, and I looked like a slob. I never learned how to clean, and if you look at my house, you can see the disaster. I never learned table manners, and I didn't know how to be polite at restaurants. All my years on this planet, I just wanted to know how to live a proper, and simple life.

This simple lifestyle magazine was a revelation. Finally, there was something to tell me how to live this basic and pleasant life I dreamed about.

On a walk to the drug store to get various supplies, and more magazines, I asked my dad, "Is it ok that I have the desire to cook and clean and do yoga and work on my appearance and do other womanly things, even when there are better things to be doing with my time?"

"Like what?"

"Learning about politics, reading history, trying to find the answers to world poverty."

"Ellen, what do you think poor women do when they get a lot of money? Well, first they buy a better house and a better car. But afterwards, what do you think they spend their money on?"

"Cosmetics."

"Seems like appearances are something that people find very important."

"So it's ok that I'd rather read about making pastries than Hungarian history?"

"You're a woman Ellen. There is no reason to be ashamed for wanting to do womanly things. Just because I like history, doesn't mean you have to."

So now, 4 weeks into my summer, I have come to a number of revelations. This is the first one.

I am a feminine woman. I like dressing pretty. I like exercising regularly, doing exercises such as Zumba and yoga, because I like feeling strong and healthy. Currently, my favorite magazine is Real Simple. I dream of being a great housewife. I like talking about feelings. I like spirituality.  I want a pretty house and a pretty face and a pretty body. I love Rom Coms. I wish I wore more dresses. I think it's attractive when men act tough. I want a corny romance and I fear being alone. I want pretty smelling perfume. I like it when boys hold doors for me and pay for my things. I like being submissive at times. I want to cook. I want to have house parties. I want to clean. And sometimes my desires to do these things weigh out my feelings on following politics or debating ideas.

I'm sorry feminists. I'm sorry childhood me. IT'S ALL TRUE!!!

My father's point was completely and utterly valid. I was a woman afraid to be feminine. What? Why should I feel this way? Why should I be ashamed of who I am, not only emotionally but biologically?

And that was exactly it. My second revelation. The word should. So deceptive. So cruel. I suppressed my desires because I thought I shouldn't have them. 

Suddenly, my expectations fell apart. I didn't want to read all of those books in my father's library. I didn't want to listen to all of those CDs. I only felt like I should want to. I had the idea that if I read all the books my father did, I would be smart like him, and I wanted to be smart like him.

So many times, I have let the shoulds dominate my life. I tried to pursue a career in music because people told me "you're so talented, you should be a musician!" I've suppressed my feelings in multiple circumstances because people told me "you shouldn't be upset." I read 350 pages on a biography on Brecht before I finally put it down angrily and said, "I can't stand this anymore! Brecht was a terrible human being and I can't stand this anymore!" So many theater moguls have preached Brecht, so I thought I should like him and his ideas. But dammit, he's a terrible, pretentious human being. I cannot stand his communist beliefs, and his communist beliefs are the core of his art, and thus, I cannot stand his art as well.

In all of these pursuits, never did I pause to think, "Is this what I want?"

Maybe this simple idea is obvious to some people, but it wasn't obvious to me.

Before, I thought the reason I wasn't accomplishing what I set out for was because of my laziness. That is false. The reason I haven't accomplished my goals is because I didn't actually want to. I only felt like I should, and that's not enough motivation to get me off the couch on a 90 degree summer day.

The shoulds lead me to frustration again and again. The shoulds waste my time, my energy, and my life. Worst of all, the shoulds do not guarantee success or happiness, which can be seen again and again by people whose expectations are failed everyday.

I will continue to read my magazines and hair care books shamelessly, because that is who I am. I will also read the news, listening to the classical music I like, and continue One Hundred Years of Solitude, because that is who I am too. And that's okay with me, because that's what I want.

Difficult Ethical Questions

Why I'm Thinking About This

Today, a friend of mine sent me videos about abortion. Usually I've supported the idea of abortion because I believe that a woman should have the choice on whether they want to carry the heavy responsibility of a child, a woman shouldn't have to stop their career due to a mistake, and a child should not be brought into a family where it is unwanted. However, you cannot ignore the fact that abortion does actually involve killing something. It is causing death. The question of whether it is murder is debatable, but the fact that it causes death in something that could otherwise survive is certain.

I don't know if you guys are aware of this, but there are certain conditions where abortions don't work and the baby survives. This happens because many late-term abortions are done by inducing labor in the mother and giving birth to the baby prematurely, hoping it will be dead. Sometimes it's not. When the abortion fails but the mother still doesn't want the baby, they essentially abandon the baby and leave it to die.

This video talks about it. If you ignore the anti-Obama rhetoric, it delivers useful information.

Sometimes though, they reach an in between phase. The baby is alive but the mother hasn't fully given birth. When this happens, they cut the baby's neck with a scissors to kill it. This is called a partial birth abortion.

It is very easy to dismiss conservative arguments as ignorant and old-fashioned, but what does that prove? There is a decent point to be made that these techniques are discomforting and borderline inhumane, and that should not be ignored. I mean you can ignore it, but that just means you're being an ignorant bystander. It's fine if you want to be that way, but I'm not satisfied with accepting things as they are until I fully understand them.

As thus, I figured I had to analyze this issue piece by piece in order to form my own opinion.

Is Abortion Ethical?

Though I have not done in-depth research as of yet, I have seen both sides of the issue. It's a very difficult thing to judge. To try and make sense of it, I created a chart in which I asked numerous questions.

The picture may be tough to read, so I'll type what I wrote.

• Is a fetus a person?
• At conception?
• After _____ weeks?
• Traditions of abortion
• Sparta: Unwanted/Undesirable children abandoned on hilltops
• Spring Awakening: Girl sent to get abortion after coerced into sex. It kills her.
• Women will try to get abortions even if it's illegal
• Many of these women will die
• If an aborted baby survives, are we morally obligated to save it?
• What if it has a terrible disease? (Can this be detected early?)
• What if abortion procedure dooms its death? (More common?)
• If a baby is destined to be born with a major deformity, is abortion to spare it from suffering noble?
• If a person is not ready to support a child, should we force them to grow up and do so anyhow?
• What if it's clear that the child will live a troubled life?
• Should people pay consequences for promiscuity?
• Is promiscuity unethical or simply undesirable?
• Does contraceptive make abortion less of an issue?
• Does downward demographic trend mean that only good parents have children?

Without much information, it's hard for me to make a full judgment. However, I think these are a good set of questions to think about.

One of them, the one about promiscuity, actually spurred another debate inside my head; one that I had been thinking about for a while. I made another chart.

Is Promiscuity Unethical?

In the book Understanding Homosexuality, Roger E. Biery lays out three purposes for having intercourse: Reproduction, Emotional Bonding, and Enjoyment. Thus, I used these categories to analyze the ethics of promiscuity.

Reproduction

• Promiscuity ignores this
• Contraceptive and abortion nearly eliminates consequences
• What about when it doesn't?
• If reproduction is undesired, how will we continue the human race?

Emotional Bonding

• Is emotional attachment always desired?
• What if emotional contact is desired but person does not know how to get it?
• What if it's not?
• What if one person wants emotional bond but other does not?

Enjoyment

• Is using others for sexual enjoyment manipulative?
• What about danger of STD?
• What about pregnancy?
• Is it animalistic? Should we be more civilized?
• Or is it unnecessary to restrain ourselves due to contraceptive?
• If both agree its for enjoyment and contraceptive is used, is it ok?

I started at the board and tried to view the issue from the logical perspective. I ignored theological justifications such as "sex is a gift given to us by God that must not be abused" because I do not find them relevant in rational arguments.

Conclusion

This is what I decided.

In a perfect scenario, where both parties know that the sex is only being used for enjoyment purposes, promiscuity is ok. HOWEVER, this kind of scenario is mostly idealistic for two reasons. First of all, emotional complications are difficult to eliminate (as seen by the questions I listed for emotional bonding, those are serious issues that are difficult to solve or discuss). Secondly, accidents happen, people can get STDs and pregnancies.

In theory, promiscuity is not wrong, and if you are very careful, you can be responsibly promiscuous. However it takes a lot of effort to end up in the ideal scenario, often more than it's worth, and dedicated relationships make life a heck of a lot easier.

More Questions

Throughout my life, I have often had my opinions formed by other people. It's difficult for me to maintain a position on pretty much any subject and I'm easily persuaded into changing beliefs. This exercise is very helpful to me because it helps me find definite logic for my beliefs. Also, I quite enjoy analyzing these questions. It takes the abstract world and puts it into concrete terms that I can understand, which makes me feel more empowered, which makes me happier.

I think as I go on, I'm going to use this approach to analyze many of the world's major issues for myself. Perhaps I'll find some brilliant solutions. Who knows?

Hamlet and the Baker's Son

For this quarter, I was given the autobiography Hamlet and the Baker's Son by and about Augusto Boal. To quote Luke, "This book is about three of your favorite topics. Theater, politics, and South America!" Obviously I had to look at it.

A Rough Summary

Augusto Boal is a Brazilian theater director, but he is different from most other directors (I would think, not that I know very much about other directors). His primary quest is to discover the "true Brazil," to move theater from the upper and middle-classes and bring it to the average people. He was imprisoned and exiled during the time of a brutal dictatorship. Now he has returned to Brazil, where he continues developing his new theater techniques.

Finding Context

Due to a lack of theater knowledge, I had a decent amount of trouble following along as he described all of the shows he directed. I was also confused about the events happening during the time of the book. In order to get some context, I did some research on Brazilian history. Brazil is a country with a very interesting history. It has gone from being a colony, to an empire, to a democracy, to a dictatorship, back to a democracy, back to a dictatorship. Imagine if the communist movement had been successful there. The country would have had every form of government conceivable! Except for theocracy, but that's pretty minor.

Still, I have difficulty analyzing it. I feel like the book had so much to offer but I couldn't compute it all.

Nationalism

Boal was an artist, and as an artist, he was surrounded by numerous kinds of social movements. These were predominantly leftist socialist movements, some even communist. However, he never affiliated himself with any kind of ideology. Instead, he was more of a nationalist; he wanted to find the heart and identity of Brazil.

He did this in a number of ways. He set up writing workshops for Brazilian writers, he drove out to obscure areas of the country to perform, and he tried to get the audience involved in his shows. He tried to find the true people.

But I think what makes Boal so respectable is how he acknowledges that he cannot fully understand the struggles of Brazilian peasants.

There were two moments where he realized the limits of an artist. The first is when he discovered what he refers to as "Chê Syndrome."

"I call this 'the Chê Syndrome', a condition to which so many of us at some point or another succumb. Wanting to free slaves by force: I have my truth, I know what's best for them, therefore let us do what I want them to do, now. I know it is right. I see what they cannot see: let them come with me, I want to open their eyes. They have to see what I see, since I see the right way! The best of intentions. The most authoritarian of practices - coming from above."

This condition is quite common for people, engaging in social movements that lack sincerity and efficacy. It's so nice to see it written in words. I suffered from this very condition myself for a while. Thank goodness I matured beyond it!

The second moment when he realized his limits is when he performed in a small town in the northeast region of Brazil, which is very poor. He re-enacted a revolution with fake weapons. The peasants asked the actors if they would like to take their arms and join in the conflict. The artists explained that the weapons were fake, but the peasants continued to prod them to join their army.

This is an important ethical question for an artist.

"We have no right to incite anyone to do something we are not prepared to do ourselves."

How can the artists expect people to rebel when they will not do so themselves? How can we call people do act when we do not act? 

Before the first military coup took place, Boal was in a restaurant where his artist and intellectual friends were debating what was going to happen. They each had their two cents to offer, but again, they refused to act.

"Intellectuals gave themselves the right to suggest ways forward…and fold their arms. As if being intellectual meant the acquired right to do nothing more than think."

My question was, how does the artist act? How does the artist participate in the political and social spectrum without coming across as insincere and cowardly?

Political Participation

When the military took over Brazil, many censors were placed upon Brazilian art. At first, the artists tried to work around them. However, it reached the point where the artists could no longer take having their messages blocked for being "subversive." There was one television producer who tried to find something to film for his television show that wouldn't be blocked. He was so desperate, he decided to film a worm being killed with acid. Again, this was considered subversive.

Boal got sick of his theater being considered over the top.

"If anything was 'over the top' it was our very existence, as creators: how can an artist work under a dictatorship if the artist is the body who, when free, creates the new, and the dictatorship is the body which, by shutting people up, preserves the old? Art and dictatorship are incompatible. The two words loathe each other!"

The artists performed their shows regardless of the censors, and that's when troubles began. People disappeared, people got killed. The artists made sure to have weapons for self-defense, even if they didn't particularly know how to use them.

One day, Boal got kidnapped off the street. He was taken into custody where he was tortured. They wanted him to give information, to give up names of other subversive peoples. He never gave in. He doesn't consider himself a hero for never giving in, he simply states that he never revealed information.

Afterwards he was exiled from his country, and he wandered from place to place for years, never feeling at home. He did develop new forms of theater during the time of this dictatorship.

I believe it was at this point where Boal was no longer a shallow activist but an active participant. He maintained his integrity, survived exile and dictatorship, and brought world attention to the issue. But that's not all he did. 

Identity

Throughout his life, he worked to form a national identity for Brazil, creating a centripetal force. This is no easy task. The world of post-colonialism is a lonely one. Think about it. The country was created by a bunch of vicious white people going in, killing people, and taking land. In South America, people didn't own land! They had no such concept. So what you had was a system where a bunch of people from the outside with superior weapons came in and said that everything was theres. Specifically in Brazil, a large amount of the Native population was killed. They do not have much of a pre-colonial history, unlike per se Mexico, who has the legacy of the Aztec and the Maya from which to draw from.

Eventually, the country raised its status from a colony to basically a co-nation with Portugal. Then it became independent, had two emperors, and then had a tumultuous political history like many of the Latin American nations.

In a situation where a country is so artificially created, what does it mean to be Brazilian? Is it the language? They speak Portuguese. Is it the people native to the area? The country mixed ethnicity with whites, Pardos (mixed of indigenous and white), blacks, Asians, and Amerindians. 

Is it the environment? Certain plants only belong to the country. Brazil hosts a large part of the Amazonian forest.

Is it the people who live there now? Is it the upper-class? Is it the lower-class? There is such a stark difference between the peasant who lives under what is essentially a feudal system and the businessman who thrives in Rio. How can these people be one?

The answer is, the Brazilian national identity draws upon all of these factors. It is the history, it is the present, it is the people, it is the environment, it is everything. But it's not always easy to see this identity.

This is why Boal was so enthusiastic about having his plays be so essentially Brazilian. He was sick of people re-enacting European plays, pretending to be something that they are not. On the other hand, he didn't want to emphasize "folk culture" in an insincere manner.

"Was there not an elitism in the concept of 'popular culture' as an impoverished corruption of the true culture? Was it not another way of saying 'folklore', a dwarfish form when placed beside the 'true culture' of European inspiration?"

This is why he worked to have Brazilians write plays, to perform in the obscure corners of Brazil. He was building an identity to unite these different peoples. This is very political. How can a country operate when nobody agrees with each other? Where people don't feel like one?

If you go to countries outside of the United States, you can see how much of an effect our culture has. So many nations do not have this sense of national identity, and therefore do not have much art of their own. People listen to American television shows and listen to American music. This isn't because America imposes itself on other countries; it's because these other countries do not have other options.

I don't know the details about how Boal has helped create a national identity for Brazil, but I'm sure he has had a large impact. 

I actually thought about that considerably. Boal himself is one man who made a large impact on the Brazilian identity. But how much of that identity is Brazilian, and how much of it is the identity of Augusto Boal? Is Brazilian theater simply Boalian theater? Because he participated and developed numerous artists, I would say no. However, even if much of the theater was based off of him alone, it could still be considered authentically Brazilian.

Another aspect of national identity comes in revered figures. We have plenty of our own. George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson. Even some more modern-day heroes, Theodore Roosevelt, Franklin Delano Roosevelt. The national anthem was written by one man, Francis Scott Key. The flag was created by one woman, Betsy Ross. Martin Luther King, Jr. led the civil rights movement, Susan B. Anthony led the woman's rights movement. These people may not be gods, but they have a supernatural presence in our identity.

Hmm. I wonder if one could create a theory that compiles all of the aspects of national identity. Food for thought. I'm going to sit on that.

Speaking of famous figures, Boal has an interesting quote about that.

"For me, myth is not mystification per se. Myth is the simplification of the historical individual, retaining the fundamental traits of his character, his essence, so to speak, which becomes magnified. However, it becomes mystification if non-essential circumstances are magnified and what is important is thrown into the waste bin of history. The picturesque remains, the principle is lost."

Quotes

There are a number of quotes that I just like, even though I don't have much to say for them. Here are a few.

"International solidarity could be useful. Dictators are ashamed of what they do: if they are denounced, their acts of evil diminish. May they always be denounced!"

"What stark madness to want to decide who is right and who is wrong she, in art, many paths, even divergent ones, can all be right. Only one is the wrong path, for sure: the path of mediocrity!"

"The intention to sin is already sin; if the sinner does not sin because he has been impeded, even then he is a sinner. The assassin is an assassin even when his victim escapes."

"Remembering today what I remembered yesterday, the thing remembered now differs from the memory before. Everyday is a new day. I am no longer who I was only hours ago. My being is becoming. I never am: I am always becoming. I am that which I am not yet, and I am also what I have already ceased to be. In the act of approaching being, I become that which I shall never be, since, if I become by being it, I shall already be in transit to another being which I am not yet nor will be, as I am the first, always in transit. Inevitably."

"People afraid to dream in color, dreaming in black and white. Dreaming of dew drops, not daring to dream of oceans."

"Theater has to be in flesh and blood. Otherwise, it is entertainment."

"A ritual in search of lost purity: he who writes purifies himself, liberates himself, bathes naked, seeing himself. Before putting my clothes back on, to meet the world, I want to meet myself. I want to know my hand's reach, the remoteness of my food. I want to know: I write. This book is my purification."

"I am convinced: we can only return to places where we have never been…I am convinced: we only remember what has not happened."

"My life has been a draft, unfinished sentences, unexpected syntaxes. But I neither can, nor want to make a clean copy: I did what I could. If I could have done more, I would have."

Bibliography

Boal, Augusto. Hamlet and the Baker's Son: My Life in Theater and Politics. Trans. Adrian Jackson and Candida Blaker. London: Routledge, 2001. Print. 

The Right To Exist

I don't know if you guys read the blog post I made yesterday. I'm realizing that my blogposts are becoming very substantial, but I don't like to cut myself off in the middle as I write them. I see my blogposts as my way of taking notes, broadcasted to the public. They are many for my own purpose, and if they don't entertain others I am fine with that.

But back to my point. Yesterday I made a substantially long blog post (you can see it here). To summarize, I talked about my plans to improve my writing by focusing on technical aspects.

I was a bit alarmed when I saw an emergency comment from Luke saying,

"NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!

No no!!! NOOOOOO!!!

No, you will NOT "work" on writing. No. You can write all you want, but you WILL NOT WORK on it. You will especially not waste your time and destroy your talent by working on "descriptive writing." NO!!!!

I spend huge stretches of time getting students NOT to write descriptively. NO NO!!! I'm so upset I'm shaking."

I continued on to read his comments, and I realized the utter hypocrisy in my goals and my reasoning for them.

Now, I wasn't surprised because I was critiqued. I'm not someone who has the belief that they must always be right, and I generally assume that if someone gives me guidance it's for a good reason. However, usually when someone offers me advice, I know what to expect. I know what I'm doing wrong, I just need to be told twice.

When Luke informed me on what I was doing wrong, I had no idea, no clue, no apprehension. I didn't think I did anything wrong when I wrote that post. I thought I was analyzing a skill in a logical manner and setting out a plan for which to improve it. I saw nothing wrong.

Obviously, I need to completely re-evaluate my philosophy if I can't notice such major flaws.

I thought about this, and I realized a few things, which I reflected in my reply to him.

"Luke, I am so glad that you said that, because I did not realize that what I was doing. 

In hindsight, I realize that I'm being completely hypocritical. My old writing used to be too excessively descriptive, therefore I will practice on writing more descriptively. Circular reasoning at it's finest, and I didn't even see it in front of my own eyes. 

I think this goes to show my inherent tendencies. I work at things in an artificial way because that's what I think you're supposed to do, and it ends in anguish, every single time. I specifically said I didn't want to do that, and yet that is what I set myself up to do. Habits are difficult to break. I'm addicted to giving myself work so I'm not bored. I'm a workaholic and yet I don't like to do work unless it seems to have a purpose. 

I think this comes from a deep-seated belief that I have, perhaps instilled in the world around me, or perhaps instilled by my parents. I've always believed that you must earn the right to have people care about what you do, or what you have to say. The way you earn that right is to work. Consequentially, I work constantly to earn my right to exist on this planet. "

That may have hit the nail on the head. I work hard all the time. I work to prove my right to exist.

I think that might be my Koan.

Why do I deserve to exist?

Ever since I was a kid I had a need to prove myself. I wasn't creative (as I said, I would often recreate the images on Lego boxes because I thought my own creations wouldn't be good enough), but I was always willful.

I remember when my dad first installed foam tiles in the basement as an alternative to carpeting. I believe I was about seven years old at the time. My basement has a number of poles, and in order to install the tiles on the floor, they would have to be cut so they could fit around these poles. My dad told me this, and I wanted to help him tile the floor.

After tiling a majority of the floor, I reached the pole. I didn't want to sit and wait for him to cut the tile, so I decided to take a butter knife and do it myself. That's right, I was cutting a foam tile with a butter knife. It took me half an hour, but I did it. When my dad came home, he was astonished. "Did your really cut that foam tile with a butter knife." I nodded. "Well, the cut's a bit rough, so I will have to replace it, but I'm impressed that you were actually able to do it." I wasn't hurt that my hard work was thrown in the trash. That compliment meant everything in the world to me.

In my mind, anything can be accomplished with effective planning and free will. If you follow certain steps, happiness is guaranteed. This has led me to doom, so many times. I get caught up in the planning and I forget about the value of the goal. I get caught up in the planning and I don't even know what my intended goal is!

Why do I need to work so hard? Maybe I'm doing everything right already.

I reread the comment I posted in response to Luke. The writing was completely eloquent, and I wasn't even aware while I was writing it. Because it was past 10, I was simply focused on writing a thoughtful response, and not working on the technicalities of wording and phrasing. Still, I phrased all of my sentences well, used a variety of vocabulary words, and wrote a generally coherent piece.

Generally, when I write blogposts, I do not focus on the technicalities of writing. My primary goal is to put my ideas down in a tangible format. Though I used to have a tendency to overuse description in my writing, I have written so many blog posts that I have eliminated such nonsense.

And I thought I should bring it back again. Oh my!

I started getting skeptical. I thought, "if one wants to write better, shouldn't they focus on technical ability? Isn't a writer supposed to have a large vocabulary for which they can describe things?"

But then I realized, I don't even like descriptive writing. I gravitate to non-fiction because it doesn't have all that jargon. I don't feel like navigating the treacherous pages of "good creative writing." Not to mention, much of it comes off to me as shallow. So much creative writing has this mystique, where eloquent word choice is confused with actual sincerity. Sometimes, it makes me sick to my stomach!

That is why I had so much apprehension about writing before. I didn't want to write things that made people sick to their stomachs, but I didn't realize there were other options available. 

There are other options for writing. I'm exhibiting one of those options right now. Writing doesn't mean creative fiction. It can be anything, as long as it is written down in a widely accepted language and comprehensible to the reader.

I'm doing everything right already. That's a very difficult thing for me to admit because I always feel like I must prove myself in order to have the privilege to express myself. But no. I'm expressing myself, right here, right now. 

If I want to improve my writing skills, I simply need to read. All of the words and phrasing will become internalized into my subconscious, and then they will appear in front of me when I write. 

Sometimes, I need to chill out and say that I've done enough.

Developing Writing

As usual, I have been working on a number of things simultaneously and linearly. I want to talk about two of my projects, but I am going to put them in one post, because they are interrelated in a way.

Puppet Show

I was actually having a considerable amount of trouble with the puppet show up until very recently. The first attempt at the puppet show, Danny and I worked hand in hand with the development of the plot.

One issue I told him about pretty close to the beginning was that I thought the plot was becoming too complicated. He assured me that this wasn't an issue and encouraged me to continue the script in the direction it was going.

I completed a script, but I knew it was flawed. I could tell because I was unable to explain it to almost anyone else. There were so many aspects to the story, I didn't know how to coherently summarize it. When Danny and I presented the puppets during class and Luke asked me to describe the story, I got stuck. This made me embarrassed. If I couldn't explain my story, how could I perform it? If I couldn't explain my story, then what the hell had I done the past few weeks? It seemed as if I hadn't accomplished anything at all, and being next to Danny's great looking puppets gave me a feeling of inferiority. I don't say this because I want to prove my superiority. I say this because I wanted to show that I also worked hard on the project.

It was clear to me that I had to rewrite the script, but I didn't know how to go about it. I brainstormed a number of ideas and bounced stuff off my dad, who is always a great source of community. I wanted to focus more on the half-plant half-human character because I thought he could have an interesting story. My dad suggested that I write a play about the half-plant half-human's quest to realize who he is. I could make him go through a journey where he tries to be a human and he tries to be a plant. If I were to base the story off of the plant's experiences, I would be able to rewrite the story and keep all of the lovely puppets that Danny made. It seemed like a good compromise.

I rewrote the story, trying to include as many characters as possible and maintain some of the same artistic ideas of the first piece. The new script was an improvement, but I could sense that it was still lacking. Jessica and Emily pointed to a number of plot holes, and they made very valid points.

However, I couldn't find the energy to fix it. I simply didn't feel like it. Perhaps I was feeling discouraged from before, or I thought it would be too difficult to fix what I had. Regardless, I decided to read my autobiography on Augusto Boal instead for pretty much all of last week. At least that was productive.

I threw in the towel and told Luke I was having these difficulties on Sunday, after a week of inaction. The next day, I decided to give the script one last try. I saved it as a new file, so I could return to the old one, just in case. Then, I worked through each plot hole one by one.

Often, solving one plot hole opened another one. Fixing the plot meant changing major parts of the story. Because the script was in a new file, I wasn't afraid to change the story. In the end, it was a good choice. The newest script not only had less plot holes, but it told a better story, one that was less shallow and more meaningful.

At first, I added characters into the story so I would be able to use Danny's puppets. Often, they were included arbitrarily. Also, I artificially induced a number of plot points in order to give the story a forward drive. When I justified each of these plot points, each character became justified, and as such, more purposeful.

This taught me a very important lesson. When you justify each plot point in your story, you end up with a higher quality story. This happens for two reasons. First of all, a story with little plot holes is easier to follow, and the audience stays focused. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the process of fixing plot holes makes you inventive. It's an idea generating process, and the new ideas you brainstorm can add nuances to a story that improve it.

I think the script is near finished, and I am very glad, because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to complete it.

Once I make final revisions, the production process will start. Danny will have to build sets, which I will help him with if he so desires. Then we will have to cast people and rehearse. For now, I'm simply going to enjoy my success for a few days.

Writing

As of late, I have been very drawn to writing. Why? I don't know. I started thinking about it after the movie I made last quarter. I wanted to make another movie, but I didn't want to make another music video. To make a movie with a script, I figured I needed to improve my writing skills. Then I started reading plays and I became more interested in the subject. The concept of writing became so powerful in my mind, I pretty much forgot about movie making. Does this mean I want to be a writer? I'm not calling anything out yet. All I know is that I want to write, so writing is what I will do.

At first, I had trouble accepting the idea of wanting to write. I thought, "I don't read very much in the way of creative writing. Why should I expect others to read what I write if I don't read what they write?" Personally, I don't read much fiction. When I do I generally enjoy it though. I prefer non-fiction. I do not like most short stories unless they have a reason to stick out to me. Don't even get me started on most poetry.

Another problem I had is I felt like I didn't have the right to write (excuse my rhyme). When I read I feel inspired to write. I don't know if it's just me, but I couldn't imagine any bookphile who doesn't want to write. Most people I know who are interested in reading are interested in writing as well. On the other hand, not many people I know are avid readers. So I imagine you have a small group of readers, most of whom want to be writers. How could I compete with that? How could I compete for existence?

I voiced these concerns to a friend of mine, who, being a a supportive and honest friend, told me it shouldn't matter very much. He's in the middle of writing a book, and he told me that he often doesn't finish novels all the way through. I can't say much for the quality of his writing, considering that it's in Spanish, but I figure if someone can write a book without finishing most of the books they read, then so can I. And why should I be worried about what other people would think?

I'm trying to do things because I want to do them, not because I feel as if I should. It's a very difficult habit to break, but I'm getting better.

So, about writing. One problem I had which I mentioned in my last blog post is that I was afraid I didn't have enough knowledge about certain subjects to write about them, and I was afraid of coming off shallow. Eventually I decided, screw it, I can write what I want. It doesn't become ignorant and offensive until other people see it. When it sits in my notebook, it is nothing more than practice. And I need practice.

What I decided to do was write down various stories that interested me, things I heard from the news, television, from friends, wherever. One story that has been stuck in my head is the incident where a chimpanzee ripped a woman's face off. The policeman who shot the chimpanzee dead ended up with serious PTSD. I understood in my heart why a police officer would get PTSD from witnessing a woman with her face ripped off and shooting the manic chimpanzee that did it, but I could never explain it.

I attempted to describe the tale from his point of view, simply as an experiment. At first I was having issues getting into the mood, but when I imagined the owner of the chimpanzee coming out after the brawl to witness the destruction, I actually started to cry. Because the image of the owner was so evocative, I decided to switch my writing halfway through to her point of view. As I wrote, I was literally bawling my eyes out. My brother overheard me and asked if I was ok. I quickly shook it off and assured him I was alright, I was only practicing with my emotions again. He was pretty upset at being fooled. I felt kind of bad, but not too bad.

I wasn't sure how skillful my writing was, but I knew I had a lot of fun writing, so I decided to continue. The next day, I wrote from the point of view of a person with Laron Syndrome after reading National Geographic. Yesterday, I wrote from the point of view of a mother dealing with a violent child after seeing part of a documentary trying to find the source of violence in people, inspired by the Newtown shooting.

When I put myself into these mindsets, I was able to brainstorm ideas on the spot, as if I was doing an improvised monologue. In a way, I guess that's exactly what I was doing, except I was writing it down instead of speaking it out loud.

As I wrote, I notice that I had a serious lack of detail and poetic language. However, I thought that my writing was better than it has been in the past, and that led me to another revelation.

Though I haven't looked at my past writing, I can recall from my memory that I have always made a very conscious effort to use excellent vocabulary. I thought this would make my pieces better. But that wasn't necessarily true.

The fact of the matter was I mainly used vocabulary to make my writing appear more intelligent. Often, I misused the vocabulary, made the piece unnecessarily complex, and removed a good amount of the sincerity. This was a serious problem when I took the writing workshop back in October that Alex noted. At first, I was in denial about it. I thought, "I've only made a few definition errors, but my writing is still of a very high caliber."

After reflecting on my own writing and some reading that I have received in English class, I understand that vocabulary is a skill that needs to implemented naturally, not artificially. Writers don't use big words to sound smart. Well, perhaps some do. GOOD writers don't use big words to sound smart. They use big words because those words are the only way they can describe a scene. The words come from necessity, not from superfluousness.

It seemed like I had the ability to write stories. Inspiration is becoming less and less of a problem as I lift restrictions from myself. What I need to work on is technical skills. 

Writers use vocabulary to create an image. I thought about this as a metaphor through a painter. A painter paints what they see in front of them, a writer writes about what they see in front of them. It's much the same thing. From this, I decided to create some exercises for myself. Much the same way a painter paints a scene with colors, I was going to create a scene with words.

At first, I thought about concepts. For example, wood. If I could make a list of vocabulary words to describe wood, I could have those words at my disposal for when I have trouble describing a certain kind of wood I see in front of me. I tried to make a list of adjectives to describe wood, dividing them by type.

Color

• Brown
• Beige
• Painted
• Ombre

Types

• Cedar
• Fern

Texture

• Rough
• Smooth
• Tarnished
• Stained
• Tainted
• Marred
• Decorated
• Antiquated
• Ordained

I had a lot of trouble with this, and I realized that this was because I was working purely from imagination. Painters often had a model that they depict in their paintings. Obviously, I needed to try and describe a specific object, and not a general concept. Perhaps I could work on a general list later, but this wasn't helping me.

I started listing adjectives to describe the first object in front of me, the autobiography of Augusto Boal. I described the book's physical characteristics. I apologize to Luke if the descriptions make you cringe. I tried to take care of it!

• Dandelion Yellow
• Used
• Curved corners
• Slightly worn
• Stained with pastels (this is more on the back)
• On a messy table

I then made it into a paragraph

The book sat on top of a messy table. Though the cover looked a dark dandelion yellow, its glow was diminished by wear and tear, and stained with a number of multi-colored pastel streaks. Its pages curved slightly at the edges.

I think this strategy paid off. Though I wouldn't say the writing is necessarily profound, I think that it does an effective job of describing the book. By separating the processes of description and sentence structure, I made my life easier, and I think it yielded a better result than if I were to have simply written a description without the preparation.

I've been thinking about daily practices again, specifically related to writing. I could imagine myself doing a daily practice where I describe an object each day. It's like painting a daily portrait. I could do the process I did above, using pictures of objects, people, rooms, scenery.

Before I dedicate myself to it, I would like to practice it more. But it's a good thing to consider, and I think these exercises could keep me entertained for a while. They truly challenge me, and I enjoy challenges.