So long and farewell

This is my last blog post for my Literature Editing and Publishing class. It’s a little bittersweet to realize that the semester is almost over and with it the end of my college career. As much as I dislike homework I know that I’ll miss all the class discussions, the fellow students and even most of the teachers. Whenever I walk on campus these days it hits me that I am finally nearing the end of what has been a very long and windy road. Oh college, I’ll miss you.

            I have no idea if I’ll keep up with this blog, or even if I’ll start a new one just to keep in the habit of writing. It’s been an experience that I have loved and loathed for the past couple of months. I have enjoyed being able to write about the things that I love but at the same time I feel that much of my writing is forced. This blog is a must-do, which in a lot of ways sours my enjoyment in the writing process. As much as I love to talk, I do realize that I don’t always have that much to say.

            I think I will continue to blog. I have enjoyed the experience more often than not. Why give up on a good thing? It’s most likely true that not that many people will read it, but I don’t need an audience. I can write for myself. I think that’s when I do some of my best writing anyway.

            

Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

William Shakespeare has over 800 credits to his name on the Internet Movie Database web site. That is truly mind boggling to me. Apparently, he holds the record for having the most screen adaptations by a single author. Stephen King, who holds the record for most adaptations by a living author, has close to 150, not a very impressive number in comparison. Shakespeare lived, wrote, loved and died over 400 years ago and yet the stories he created still resonate with audiences today. Now that’s what I call talent. Who will remember my name even a century from now, beyond my great grandchildren if I happen to have any?

He is considered by many to be one of the, if not THE, greatest writers of all time. I enjoy both his work and the works he has unknowingly inspired. Not only do I enjoy his play, The Taming of the Shrew, I also like the musical inspired by it, Kiss Me, Kate and I love the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, which is a modern retelling of it. I have watched numerous versions of Shakespeare’s work on film and though his work is old, his words are still fresh. Nobody writes like Shakespeare. There is no playwright living today who writes lines that can be delivered with more passion than the dialogue written by Shakespeare. Do you think he knew, even then, what an impact he would have on the world? I would love to make such a lasting impression. To leave something behind that said I lived. An everlasting I was here. I better work on that. Life is too short to only think of what you want, eventually you have to go out and do it.

Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze.

I’ve decided that romance novels should be moved to a different section of the bookstore. I feel that they would be more appropriately placed right smack dab in the middle of fantasy, because let’s face it, romance authors are masters at putting fantasies on the page. Every woman, whether she is plain or pretty, fat or fat free, finds the love of a successful, desirable, wonderful and fantastic fantasy man in every book. Someone who is not only good-looking but comes equipped with a big bank account and an even bigger heart. Have all the fictional men I’ve read about ruined me for romance with a real man?? Most definitely. But you know what they say: The first step to recovery is to admit that you have a problem. My problem is that I want an ideal that no real man will ever live up to. I’m picky. Shallow even. Everyone says that I’ll find love when I least expect it. In romance novels this is most certainly true. They never expect it in the beginning and then bam! It smacks the unwitting lovebirds right in the kisser. Literally. Why can’t life be like a romance novel? A funny one, not one of the aforementioned Fabio-on-the-cover novels; I’m not a masochist. I want life to be like a light and frothy romance novel where the worst thing that happens to you is you get caught in a rainstorm outside an inn that only has one room available and (gasp!) the room only has one bed! Awkwardness ensues, ends in ruination, forced marriage and happily ever after. Not that I specifically want something like that to happen… but even good girls like a little ruination every now and again. Just kidding. Maybe. Romance novels are meant to be about an ideal, they provide an escape from life’s all too real disappointments, but its important to have those feelings of disappointment because it means you’re really living. When that story is done you have the opportunity to go and live a new one, which one can only hope, will be better than the last. A story rife ruination and sparse in disappointment.

Insert thought provoking status here

            The professor for my Classics and Cinema class always goes off on the strangest tangents. It is not uncommon for him to lead a discussion in class about some topic that has nothing to do with what is actually going on in class. In the third week of the semester we were watching a very cheesy made-for-TV miniseries, The Odyssey. There was some discussion about the movie and the original story that it was based on and then somehow (the processes of his mind makes no sense to me) he segued into a discussion about Facebook. He wanted to know our thoughts on how social networking sites will affect the intelligence of my generation and generations to come. Are we smarter because of it or is facebook contributing to the “dumbing down” of society? This has nothing to do with The Odyssey, but it is an interesting question and each time I log onto the site I think about it and I make more of an effort to pay attention to the way that I express myself. I write more now than I ever have before. It’s true that what I’m writing isn’t the next great American novel or all that significant, but I feel that if you get into the habit of lazy writing the only writing you will ever do will be lazy. I see it everyday; prolly in place of probably, def over definitely, all the LOL’s, LMAO’s, BFF’s and more take the place of actual words in our fast-paced society. We no longer have to spell words correctly because the computer’s spell check will do that for us. We don’t even spell the words out. There is no editor reading status updates or comments to correct every misplaced comma and deleting every excess word (much like this blog). At the same time though there are more people writing and reading and more people actively engaging in discussions that, some of the time, actually matter. Facebook can be used as a forum for debate. I have many friends who engage in debates every day regarding religion and politics. Everyday I do feel like I learn something new, or get introduced to something that I never knew existed. Sure, the new thing is often some web site that deals with drunken texts or the sadly unfashionable people who go to Walmart not realizing that anyone with a camera phone is liable to snap a picture of them and post it on the internet for people to chuckle at on their work breaks… that’s beside the point. It’s new! It’s different! And it fills me in on not only what I shouldn’t wear, but what I shouldn’t do while drinking…cough, cough…like texting. When will I learn?!

I believe that facebook and other sites like it can make people smarter, depending on how they use it. I feel smarter already and thanks to the hours spent typing all those LOL’s and LMAO’s I’ve increased my typing speed by 30% (rough guesstimate that makes my point). I write every day, and though what I write is never going to be turned into a novel, the words I put on the page entertain the people who read them. They might even inform them as well. It’s a nice thought.

I write and I write and I... you get the picture.

I am at this moment taking a break from writing an impossible paper. I know, I know, who writes when taking a break from writing? I can't even necessarily say that the difference lies in the category of business or pleasure because, though it may not seem like it, this blog is all business. But as far as work goes, it definitely provides more pleasure than most. Though this blog is supposed to remain within the realm of the literary (literary realm?) I have nothing truly literary to write about... though I did open with a sentence about writing. Minus the books I have read for school, those would be the books I've previously written about, I have not been able to read for pleasure in months! And there in lies my topic for literary discussion. I have rambled my way into an acceptable literary blog, how I long for summer so that I can lay out at the beach and read! I have 30 unread books just sitting on my shelf, calling me constantly, their spines straight and standing at attention hoping that one day I'll be able to actually give them attention. Oh books, how I miss you. One day soon we’ll be reunited. Specifically, in three weeks. I graduate then and will have tons of free time to get reacquainted with the books on my shelves. But until then, I have to focus on that other thing I have been neglecting for weeks—homework. So back I go to continue writing my paper…who am I kidding? I’m going to bed.

Memoirs are a well-known form of fiction.

I am currently reading the memoirs of a young hermaphrodite who lived in the mid-1800s for my Sex in Literature and Film class and it made me wonder… If I wrote a memoir would it ever be worth reading? The young man who wrote these memoirs committed suicide when he was 25 years old, a year younger than I am now. His memoirs are as short as his life, covering just a little over a hundred pages and yet his story is compelling. He was raised as a woman, in a boarding house ran by nuns. Herculine Barbin, tells of her young life surrounded by adoring nuns and loving schoolmates. She explains how her body was different from everyone else’s, how it was gangly and straight, while all the other girls were rounded and where they were smooth, Herculine was starting to grow hair. She seems to always have been attracted to women. In the book she describes multiple girls that she had a true passion for. During this time period apparently hermaphrodites were not forced into either sex at birth. The parents would of course raise them as one sex, Herculine was raised as a woman, but as the child reached adulthood they had to make the final choice of whether or not they would live the rest of their life as a man or a woman. Herculine chooses to live her life as a man and in the end cannot adjust to the change. So he commits suicide.

            My life is not so overly dramatic. Were I to write the story of my life what parts would I share? Could I write the story of my childhood, though it is only a vague impression of unhappiness and anger? Would I write the story of my teenage years? They were normal, not spectacular in any way worth sharing. Then again, Barbin’s childhood was not extraordinary either except for the fact that she was a man, and a woman, living as a woman amongst women, who she realized she passionately desired. That is what makes her story compelling, her passion. I need to find that emotion in my life and maybe something worthy enough to be written down will happen. I do not want to live a tragic life. I want my story to be a happy one—and a passionate one. A page-turner from beginning to end.