I'm BAAAACK! Didja miss me?!?!?
Nov. 28th, 2002 07:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beandelphikiThe past couple of days have been so INSANE, I've only been able to pop online once or twice to check my email. So if you have emailed me recently, and I haven't replied, never fear. I was just dead, that's all. Thank bob the show is closing on Saturday.
Today I went to Wyckham House to pick up some pseudo-Chinese dumplings for lunch, and discovered that there was a poster sale going on...thousands of posters to pick from, displayed with identifying numbers ALL over Wyckham. So naturally, I stayed for an hour, wandering around and gazing at all the pretty pictures. Good thing I had Drafting today, so I wasn't required to be in class.
There was the usual assortment of pop-culture treats such as "Deep Thoughts from Homer Simpson," but there was also a lot of gorgeous photography and artwork. Two in particular caught my eye: "Le Reveil" (by Coigny) and "Fred with Tires" (by Ritts.)
If I tried to describe these photos, I don't think I could do them justice. I love photographic examinations of the human body done well; these pictures were so sensual. I love seeing flesh become an exploration of form and light.
I thought about buying them. But by the time I was done running around looking, I had a list of posters I wanted that ended up costing about a hundred bucks. No way can I spend a hundred dollars on POSTERS. My mom would murder me. So I had to cut the list down, and those two were cut first - mainly because you buy a poster to hang it somewhere, and I couldn't imagine trying to explain to anybody WHY I'd bought pictures of some half-naked dude slinging hunks of rubber around. (Nor could I see myself explaining, for much the same reason, why I'd want a poster of James Dean, so that was cut, too.)
I ended up cutting "Le Reveil" from the list for exactly the OPPOSITE reason I cut the first two, if that makes sense. I could just see someone saying, "Oh, I know why he got THAT one - some hot chick's butt - how lame."
Yes, I obviously care about what people think WAY too much. That's my super-secret secret. I really get upset when people say things about me.
So I ended up deciding on a "xXx" poster, a surrealist painting by Stephens ("Genesis") and "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone." Triple X is cool, nearly everyone likes Harry Potter, and the painting is eye-buggingly (is that a word?) weird and pretty, like an acid trip.
Just so I am assured now that I look really. really. cool.
And then I ran into Richard somewhere in the maze of trifolds.
I was looking at a picture of a tree-lined...river? street?...it looked like it was supposed to make you think of a street, but it was flooded with a river of water - and then I realized there was someone standing in front of me, and they'd been there for a while. I snapped out of it - quite visibly I guess, because Richard laughed.
We made some small chit-chat about the poster sale, and then he asked me how things were going in this meaningful tone. As though there was actually supposed to be news in my life. *shrug*
He told me that he'd read my essay ("'Born that way': Problems with the Genetic Model of Homosexuality"), and that he'd liked it. I relaxed a little when I heard that, because we've been covering all the things he thinks we're doing wrong in our essays the last few classes, and I've been nervous. At least I know I won't fail.
He told me that 20 years ago, he wrote an essay on a "similar topic" and how interesting it was for him to read this new, more modern view, with the most up-to-date research I could find. (Peer-reviewed academic journals, in other words.)
Then he asked me how I'm "feeling as a writer." I didn't know how to answer that question at all - I wasn't sure I understood what he was saying. So I asked what he meant. The conversation went in the same vein as this one.
He told me that he thinks I have a LOT of potential as a writer, and he said, "So I'm hoping that someday..." [insert prof's hopeful look here]
He told me that he hopes I will eventually be able to trust him enough to know that he knows of what he speaks, because he's heard my horror stories about all my horrible old English teachers, and he thinks those phantoms might be getting in the way...
"I trust you," I said quickly. How could I not? I thought this guy was a flake when he walked into the classroom, and he's gotten us all to feel like he must walk on water simply because he said, "Write an essay. And fuck 'five paragraphs.' Oh, and while you're at it, fuck thesis statements, too."
"Well, good," he said, and we finished it with me nodding my head a lot and blushing. And then he smiled and strolled off.
It left me thinking about how I've always been "the writer," and how I've always resisted the label, because I hate people labeling me and not letting me give input. I resent being told I'm "bright" in some ways. A golden Lab that does cute tricks is bright too; so what? I don't want to be what other people think I am.
But I've never dealt with this feeling that someone has expectations for me, not trite labels. It's almost like I've always been entirely my own person, worried about my own life, and I gave a little tiny piece of that self-containment away.
I know this, though: I like Richard.
VERY much. Muah.
*hides*
Today I went to Wyckham House to pick up some pseudo-Chinese dumplings for lunch, and discovered that there was a poster sale going on...thousands of posters to pick from, displayed with identifying numbers ALL over Wyckham. So naturally, I stayed for an hour, wandering around and gazing at all the pretty pictures. Good thing I had Drafting today, so I wasn't required to be in class.
There was the usual assortment of pop-culture treats such as "Deep Thoughts from Homer Simpson," but there was also a lot of gorgeous photography and artwork. Two in particular caught my eye: "Le Reveil" (by Coigny) and "Fred with Tires" (by Ritts.)
If I tried to describe these photos, I don't think I could do them justice. I love photographic examinations of the human body done well; these pictures were so sensual. I love seeing flesh become an exploration of form and light.
I thought about buying them. But by the time I was done running around looking, I had a list of posters I wanted that ended up costing about a hundred bucks. No way can I spend a hundred dollars on POSTERS. My mom would murder me. So I had to cut the list down, and those two were cut first - mainly because you buy a poster to hang it somewhere, and I couldn't imagine trying to explain to anybody WHY I'd bought pictures of some half-naked dude slinging hunks of rubber around. (Nor could I see myself explaining, for much the same reason, why I'd want a poster of James Dean, so that was cut, too.)
I ended up cutting "Le Reveil" from the list for exactly the OPPOSITE reason I cut the first two, if that makes sense. I could just see someone saying, "Oh, I know why he got THAT one - some hot chick's butt - how lame."
Yes, I obviously care about what people think WAY too much. That's my super-secret secret. I really get upset when people say things about me.
So I ended up deciding on a "xXx" poster, a surrealist painting by Stephens ("Genesis") and "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone." Triple X is cool, nearly everyone likes Harry Potter, and the painting is eye-buggingly (is that a word?) weird and pretty, like an acid trip.
Just so I am assured now that I look really. really. cool.
And then I ran into Richard somewhere in the maze of trifolds.
I was looking at a picture of a tree-lined...river? street?...it looked like it was supposed to make you think of a street, but it was flooded with a river of water - and then I realized there was someone standing in front of me, and they'd been there for a while. I snapped out of it - quite visibly I guess, because Richard laughed.
We made some small chit-chat about the poster sale, and then he asked me how things were going in this meaningful tone. As though there was actually supposed to be news in my life. *shrug*
He told me that he'd read my essay ("'Born that way': Problems with the Genetic Model of Homosexuality"), and that he'd liked it. I relaxed a little when I heard that, because we've been covering all the things he thinks we're doing wrong in our essays the last few classes, and I've been nervous. At least I know I won't fail.
He told me that 20 years ago, he wrote an essay on a "similar topic" and how interesting it was for him to read this new, more modern view, with the most up-to-date research I could find. (Peer-reviewed academic journals, in other words.)
Then he asked me how I'm "feeling as a writer." I didn't know how to answer that question at all - I wasn't sure I understood what he was saying. So I asked what he meant. The conversation went in the same vein as this one.
He told me that he thinks I have a LOT of potential as a writer, and he said, "So I'm hoping that someday..." [insert prof's hopeful look here]
He told me that he hopes I will eventually be able to trust him enough to know that he knows of what he speaks, because he's heard my horror stories about all my horrible old English teachers, and he thinks those phantoms might be getting in the way...
"I trust you," I said quickly. How could I not? I thought this guy was a flake when he walked into the classroom, and he's gotten us all to feel like he must walk on water simply because he said, "Write an essay. And fuck 'five paragraphs.' Oh, and while you're at it, fuck thesis statements, too."
"Well, good," he said, and we finished it with me nodding my head a lot and blushing. And then he smiled and strolled off.
It left me thinking about how I've always been "the writer," and how I've always resisted the label, because I hate people labeling me and not letting me give input. I resent being told I'm "bright" in some ways. A golden Lab that does cute tricks is bright too; so what? I don't want to be what other people think I am.
But I've never dealt with this feeling that someone has expectations for me, not trite labels. It's almost like I've always been entirely my own person, worried about my own life, and I gave a little tiny piece of that self-containment away.
I know this, though: I like Richard.
VERY much. Muah.
*hides*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2002-11-28 08:14 pm (UTC)Sorry, I just had to insult someone tonight. :-P
(no subject)
Date: 2002-11-28 09:32 pm (UTC)I'm working on my paper (also on the genetics of homosexuality) and I'm struggling with it :\ I wish I was a talented writer, like you. Do you struggle sometimes? My english prof. told me that I'm a good writer, but I don't know whether to believe her or not...
and. I didn't need to go on about me... but I think we have some very similar thinking patterns. It would be very interesting to just hang out and converse about these things...
mm.
Imaculate post, as always. I think you're brilliant.
(no subject)
Date: 2002-11-29 12:04 am (UTC)On the one hand, they seem helpful in that you know what people are looking for from you. On the other hand, you know just what people are looking for you, and that can be limiting.
Someone I know keeps telling me, "The most terrible things a parent can have for their children are expectations." I think that might apply to other people in our life, as well.
You feel free to be yourself, however you want yourself to be. If your desires lead you to be an author, then great. It they lead you to be something entirely else, you should feel just as free and people should be just as happy for you.
I think support and encouragement are great, and they feel great. The expectations seem to be the thing that's rubbing you the wrong way. I'd trust your instincts on this one, but I don't think your professor had any ill intentions toward you. You have great insight, and great instincts. Those will always help you.
Oh, and please don't think I'm down on what your professor said. I trust he has keen insight and knowledge and was making as accurate an assessment of your skills as he could. That is wonderful, and I'd hold on to that. Its just the little part at the end where he applied the little bit of pressure, that I'd toss. Keep the good, lose the bad. One will help you and buoy you through your life and learning. The other might limit you.
*hugs* I hope whatever you end up doing, you end up loving it and being happy. Oh, and sorry I don't make much sense sometimes...
I'm medicated. :P
Homer r0x0rz!
Date: 2002-11-29 05:30 am (UTC)