Weekly Recap #1

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This week was a roller-coaster for me personally, but also the news these days has been intense.

Joan Rivers passed away, which was quite controversial as many people had different opinions on her intense nature.

Personally, I don’t find this news worthy of some of my research skills. Was she a great person or was she really quite terrible? While this debate certainly says a lot about media and society, I have papers to write and sleep to be had. The only thing that happened this week that I actually want to talk about is how one of my mangers at work thought Betty White died!

Clearly, she didn’t.
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Betty White headline on CNN.

Thank goodness as she’s the only famous person over the age of 80 that anyone actually cares about.

You know what I wished the news covered more? Everything that is going on with Gaza, as I can’t figure out exactly what is happening for the life of me.

If I ever figure it out, I will be sure to let you know!

How about you? What kind of news did you wish got more coverage? Let me know in the comments below!

 

 

Californication

While my summer has proven to be shockingly eventful, I have found time to almost complete the entire series that is Californication.
All this insanely addictive show has done for me is make me want, need, to write. I find solace in words somehow but at the same time I feel that reading is ultimately a way to escape real life and in that respect it is not something I want to indulge myself in. Unless, of course, I choose to read as a way to pass time on a train. Other than that situation, it appears to be nothing more than a waste.
I like to think this is why I sound better in song lyrics. Short. Sweet. Inspiring. And it gets you to move and the majority of the time it isn’t an all-consuming experience. People use music as background inspiration. They don’t touch and flip pages, they don’t watch the music note from note on a page. The don’t smell the book (or perhaps the nook).
And yet what few books I have run away to were emotionally draining in the best possible ways.
I’m not sure if this inner conflict will ever resolve itself. It’s just that image I have of that English teacher trying to preach to all the English majors and nonmajors of how amazing books and writing are. All because they let you live time and time again.
It pissed me off so much that I changed my major. Again.
You’re not living in books, you’re escaping. At the very most they are inspiring you to stop fucking reading books and find your own story worth telling.
Well shit.
I think I’ve found my answer and alas, I have another question…
Is it wrong/illogical to greatly enjoy writing but for the most part hate reading?
I’ve always heard writers need to read read read. No commas. No breaths.
But maybe they’ve got it wrong.
Or maybe I am insane and an increasingly terrible writer.

Perhaps I can remind myself of all the high school teachers who were frustrated with me and my intelligence and my lack of participation.
I was called a sponge from time to time. As I never did anything but listen and absorb.

But in my defense, if you saw what some of those participants said, it was just frustrating.

As someone who has always wanted to be a teacher, for as long as I can remember, I would be bored in class and play out various scenarios in my head.
These scenarios were of two main varieties:
First, me predicting a student’s question due to the teacher’s lack of clarity, lack of pronunciation, lack of specifics, or due to the student fiddling with their pen or sneezing, or most likely- just having terrible listening skills.
Second, were class discussions. I wasn’t too good at predicting the teacher’s initial question, but from there I could predict what someone, not a specific student as I really didn’t care, would respond with. Then I would see a counter-argument by another student. Then I could hear the first student’s response to him/her. Then I could hear the teacher intervene and say they both make good points, or whatever.

I’m not saying I was bored because I was some kind of literary genius, I’m saying I was bored because I had spent most of my days in a classroom understanding both the student’s and teacher’s perspectives and was so bored with the dynamic and lack of any real development.

Most of my English classes were so frustrating because I didn’t care about allegories or understanding what some song lyrics by Modest Mouse were about.

I’m not too great at getting the deeper meaning of certain kinds of writing.
I suck at Bible references as I have never read more than a tiny bit of it. The bits I have read were for school. I didn’t know the story of Adam and Eve until I was 14.

I guess more than anything, I feel like some literary devices need to be left in a quiet slumber. Left to leave us in a unclear awe as we focus on the key elements and the big picture of books and shows like Californication. Those little bits are great and maybe some people become great writers by dissecting art, but it just sounds scientific and all too insignificant to any author whose work was being broken down and exposed in a half-hazard manner.

All I know is Californication is a stunning show and inspires me.

I doubt there’s much else I really need to extract from my emotions towards it.