My Own Worst Enemy

     For some reason I am finding myself incredibly irritable today. The bad thing is that I know I'm irritable and I can't help responding in a way I know I shouldn't to the people around me. I've been short. I've been curt. I've been quick to snap a response. I hate being like this, but it's hard for me to stop...which also irritates me. It's not an excuse, but I think I am really feeling the stress of my final semester at OU and the culmination of my capstone course is making me feel like I've wasted the past couple of years. Capstone courses are supposed to be tough, but I feel like my idea, which the professor has been supportive of, is falling flat.

     When I applied to OU a few years back I was considering two paths for a degree - the Graphic Design program and the IT management degree. I know these are two very different paths, but I was weighing options between something that seemed creative and something that would be in high demand. I had applied to each program and got accepted. So in the fall of 2016 I started my work on a degree in Graphic Design. As I moved through the program I was having more and more issue registering for classes because my SAIL profile reflected that I was pursuing a degree in IT management (basically, based on when I had applied and got accepted into each program, my profile had reflected the second program I was accept into.)
 
     In order to make scheduling easier I reached out to my adviser to get the problem corrected. She had sent me a form with the instructions to complete it and return a signed hard copy to her office and she would get things adjusted in the SAIL system for me. A couple of days later I returned the completed form and dropped it off. After another day or two she reached out informing me that I would actually need to set up an appointment with the CAS office. So, later that day I followed her instructions and scheduled an appointment. Another day or two passed and the CAS office called me to inform me that I would need to reach out to undergraduate advising and they should be able to help me get the issue fixed. The following day, after a morning class, I stopped in the undergraduate advising office and explained my situation...to a few different people that I kept getting passed over to.

     Eventually there was an adviser who overheard me explaining my situation and he walked over. He excused his interruption and said, "Sorry, I overheard what you were saying and I think I can help. Your best bet is probably to re-apply and once your application is accepted you're SAIL profile should be corrected and then you shouldn't have any more issues trying to register." I was thankful for his help and when I returned home that afternoon I went into the application section of OU's website and went to resend my electronic paperwork.

     However, before I hit send, something made me look at the program listings on OU's academic handbook. I had notice that there is a degree offered in Creative Writing which I clicked on out of curiosity. Once inside the degree information I noticed that within the CW program is a specialization in screenwriting. This is significant because for a majority of my life I have wanted to write screenplays. I've probably read nearly a dozen books on screenwriting that contain about a dozen different theories and templates on how to approach the art of screenwriting. It's a tough business, but for some reason I felt like this was a sign - the issues with my SAIL profile, the fact that I clicked on the program offerings, the fact that I noticed the CW program and decided to click on it, the fact that there is a screenwriting program, and the fact that I've wanted to write screenplays for so long.

     Before hitting send on my application I went back in and switched it to the Creative Writing program. I felt like fate had intervened and pushed me in a direction that I had been wanting to go in for such a long time. My heart soared. I felt such excitement and hope. Like finally my life was falling into place and things felt so right. When I received my acceptance into the program I was elated! The next day I contacted the adviser for that program and set up a meeting to map out my future plan of study. When we met I found it almost impossible to wipe the smile from my face.

     Fast forward almost two years later and now I'm feeling lost yet again. I've put together an idea for my senior project and the feedback was that it's good, but could use some work. And that's okay, but now I'm struggling to figure out how to make it great! I'm trying to figure out a way to take my idea viable and show that all the work that I've put in...the years of dreaming about this...that I wasn't wrong in pursuing this...that I hadn't misinterpreted what I thought was a sign.

     I guess this is what being an artist is all about. No matter what there is always that little bit of doubt that hovers around in our psyche. There's that voice in our head telling us that we aren't good enough. There's a voice asking us how we're going to make a living doing this or that. I think most of us self-edit, self-criticize, and self-question. So, I've been feeling a little irritable which is probably stemming from some stress about trying to be my best. But as I've been writing through this it's made me realize that I need to give my best effort. I need to try and deliver the best possible work I can. Maybe I'll succeed. Maybe I'll fail. Not everything we do is going to be great. Sometimes we will fail, but what we do with that and what we learn from that will define us. But there is a reason that I'm on this path. There is a point and a purpose. I can't allow doubt to win. A lot of people aren't going to believe in us or our dreams, but each one of us should be our biggest supporters. Each one of us needs to believe in our abilities...and in our dreams.

The Pain of a Trial

     So the other day I was watching a national news program on broadcast television.

Image courtesy of Google Image Search

The intro segment was running down the upcoming stories they would be covering - the impeachment trial of Donald J. Trump, the Coronavirus in China, and the latest on the Harvey Weinstein trial. All three are major stories that are relevant to the times that we are living in. While the impeachment is important, I think I know how that one will ultimately end up. The Coronavirus will hopefully be contained and not turn into a worldwide pandemic. But for some strange reason I really focused in on the images from the Weinstein trial. Mostly the image of him walking in to court with his walker. Really!? Why is that the go-to move for these famous people when they're in trouble?

Image courtesy of Google Image Search

Like the jury is thinking, "sure he sexually assaulted many women over the years, but he's in a walker, so it's okay." Or when the Bill Cosby trial was going on he needed a "seeing-eye person" to help him walk and guide him into court. "Oh, you drugged women you were allegedly helping and had sex with them, but you're old now, so all good."
     These two do these terrible things (using their positions of power to take advantage of women) and then when they get caught and have to face the penalty for their behavior they've got physical problems. Maybe it's true. Maybe they have physical aliments...it's just funny how these things seem to really manifest themselves once their scheduled court appearance arrives. Are they looking for sympathy? Do they think the fact that they need "assistance" that all their evil deeds will go unpunished? I ask that rhetorically of course. But I'm sure the hope is that this will lessen the severity of their sentence. Regardless, and I know I shouldn't wish bad things on people, but thankfully the jury did the right thing in the Cosby case. And I would hope that the Weinstein trial will result in a conviction if the facts of the case are true. I wonder if Tom Sizemore will show up to his court date with a motorized scooter. At least he only got busted for a DUI and possession of a controlled substance.

Not a Goodbye...A See You Later

     In late-October of 2019 I went out to Arizona with my dad to visit my grandfather. It had probably been around a year and a half since I last saw him and probably about six months since we last spoke. Not because we were fighting (and hopefully not because I’m a bad grandchild), it was just that his hearing was so bad that our conversations mostly involved me shouting as loud as I could into the phone. I would often go to a faraway corner of the house in an effort not to disturb others when we would talk. In his defense, he was almost ninety-eight and the few fibers/nerve endings he had remaining in his ear canal were basically shot.

     My dad had spoken with him a few weeks before planning the trip and my grandfather told my dad that he, “Had something he wanted to tell him and something he had to give him.” Those were pretty ominous words I thought, so we made arrangements to go out as quickly as possible without spending a ridiculous amount of money. After some searching online and some back-and-forth over the phone with my dad we booked our flights. We flew out early on the 24^th of October – getting us in around 10am local time.

     After landing we headed to the rental car place, got our transportation, and drove about 20 minutes to the retirement home where my grandfather was staying (a short five minute trip from where my uncle lives in Scottsdale.) My dad and I got there around 11:30, signed in and walked down the resident hall to my grandfather’s door. My dad knocked. Waited a minute. Knocked again as my dad opened the door. The room was empty, so, since it was around 11:30, we headed to the dining area to see if he was eating lunch.

     When we first walked in, neither my dad nor I spotted him. Then, as we walked a few steps in I tapped my dad as I pointed, “Is…is that him?” He wasn’t sure at first, but as we moved closer, sure enough it was. My grandfather smiled as soon as he saw us (which was a great sign), but he had changed so much since the last time I had seen him. He looked like he couldn’t have weighed more than 120 pounds – his pants were bunched up and held up with the assistance of his belt. As I gave him a hug I could feel the bones in his shoulders and the details of his spine.

     Over the remainder of that day and the following my dad and I spent most of the day and evening with him. We sat outside – three generations enjoying the warmth and sunshine on our bodies – until grandpa got too warm and needed some shade. We sat in his room. But most of the time grandpa would nap. When he would wake we’d get a lot of the same questions he asked us the last time he was awake.

     We flew out on the red-eye flight that Friday (or technically Saturday morning), but before we left for our flight we took some pics, gave a hug, and we said, "See you soon." There was a somberness when we left; almost like we lingered a little longer outside his door. When we got back to Detroit early Saturday morning and drove home, my dad told me, “I can’t thank you enough for doing that. There’s no way I could have done that on my own, so, thanks for booking everything.” I told him, “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad we got a chance to see grandpa.” I think deep-down we both knew that would probably be the last time.

     About six weeks after our visit my grandfather went to the hospital for pneumonia. Not in the traditional way we think. His esophagus muscles were getting pretty weak, so when he would eat small food particles were travelling into his lungs. The doctor had provided my uncle a few options, but Hospice care seemed the best under the circumstances. A couple of days later he passed peacefully in his sleep with my uncle there. There was no funeral, no service. The body was sent back to the cemetery here in Detroit where we had buried my grandmother four years earlier. His body was cremated as he wished, placed into an urn, and the tomb where my grandmother was lying was opened. The cemetery workers placed is urn inside and resealed it. My dad was the only one there to witness it.

     The strange thing is I didn’t cry. Not because I wasn’t sad. Not because I wasn’t going to miss him. I think not going through the process of a visitation, service, procession and final burial prevented me from feeling the usual emotions accompanied with the loss of a loved one. But in a way, it still feels like he’s off in Arizona and one day I hope to have the chance to see him again. Does it seem strange that I feel like that? I know he’s gone, but it doesn’t feel like he’s really gone. To me it just seems like he’s living in another state. 

     I’m lucky though when I think about it. I had an opportunity to know both my grandparents on my dad’s side when I was an adult. I had the chance to spend time with them and talk about real-life things. I got to hear stories of them when they lived in Missouri. Got to hear stories about their life as young parents. Hear the funny things my grandfather did to his co-workers when he was the Building Superintendent for Blue Cross Blue Shield. They told me about the times they shared with friends, family, and neighbors. They weren’t just grandparents, they were people that lived lives filled with everything along the emotional spectrum. While it was a different time and the world was a different place, they weren’t all that different from me and I them. 

If the Opposite of "Pro" is "Con", What's the Opposite of Progress?

I'm not one to be overly political, but I've been watching much more of the made-for-TV-drama that has been going on. Now I don't want to say what I feel about the President (whether I support him or not) - that's not the point of my post. It's more of the hypocrisy that is heard coming out of our Congress from both sides of the two major parties. I know that over time our views and perspectives change. We see more, learn more, understand, and grow more worldly (hopefully) as we mature and experience life. But when I see Democratic politicians going to extreme lengths to chastise the President's behavior and the Republicans defending the actions of the President as perfectly acceptable and normal it boggles my mind. Especially when there is video of quite a few long-tenured members of the legislative body saying almost the complete opposite when the last President was going through impeachment. Where is the middle ground? Where are the people that can look at something, have a position, and maintain that position no matter their party affiliation? Maybe I'm foolish in thinking that our elected officials should have some level of consistency.

It's even more disappointing when you hear the news personalities on the cable networks talking about re-election concerns for members of Congress and how that is influencing their decision, actions, and behavior. I understand that Representatives and Senators are elected to be a voice for their constituents, but don't they also take an oath and claim they will uphold and defend the Constitution? I didn't realize that they took an oath to defend their party no matter what...guess I just learned something new. That also explains why the Congress' approval ratings are so low. Shouldn't all of these members of Congress be doing what's in the best interest of the country and not thinking about getting re-elected? If they think that what #45 is doing is appropriate, then it should be appropriate for ANY President regardless of party; and the reverse should also be true. It's just troubling to think that someone would set aside their oath and what's right (standing along side or in opposition to the President) for the simple sake of re-election. Be bold. Have a spine. Stand up for something. And, BE CONSISTENT!

These jobs aren't exactly easy. Many issues have support on both sides, so when someone takes a position and follows that position there are inevitably going to be some people that are unhappy about that choice. But, all decisions should be made for the greater good...for the majority position...for what does the most good for the most people. Maybe I should have tried to go to law school, then run for political office, then tried to change things from the inside. Or maybe it'll be easier (and less expensive) if  I just continue to express my voice at the ballot box.

Writing As Self-Revelation

In the article titled, Writing as Self-Revelation, there were some interesting points raised by the article's author, Luella Cook. Penned over 60 years ago, the author speaks about the idea of how we share and communicate - particularly in the private and public space. While Ms. Cook was approaching this from an academic perspective, I think there were two point that resonated with me and made me think about how we choose to communicate in today's connected/electronic world. Her points also made me consider how we, as writers, develop our own unique voice.

Toward the bottom of page 252 she writes, "In writing, on the other hand, we are alone with ourselves - or can be - in a kind of private world, where there are fewer pressures to determine what we shall say or how we shall say it." I think it's very important that, as a writer, we revel in these moments of solitude, for it is these times where we are able to explore, experiment, develop and find our voice. Also in these private moments we contemplate, reflect, and consider the words we choose and how we choose to pen those words. It is in these private spaces where we are able to find our public voice that we share with readers.

On the following page she continues, "All of us are extremely wary when it comes to sharing our inner most thoughts with others..." There is a lot of truth in that statement when we know who is reading it and what we are sharing. I think that privately most (if not all) of us would be willing to write our inner most thoughts if we knew that those thoughts would never see the light of day or if we could redact the parts that would shape how others see and think of us. However, if there were the slightest chance of someone seeing our inner-most thoughts, I think that most (if not all) of us would self-edit. We would restrict the exploration of our voice. When we write to a public space those ideas of what we share and how openly we share things is (largely) an inverse-relationship to how private we keep our identity.

The Goody-Two-Shoes Nature

In an article titled “The Goody Two Shoes Nature” the author brings up some interesting points about engaging in the writing process. While I found the article made several observations that I agreed with there were two particular items that struck me so I chose to focus on those in this blog post. In the second paragraph the author states,

 
“Some people hear the rule ‘Write every day’ and do it and don't improve. They are just being dutiful. That is the way of the goody-two-shoes. It is a waste of energy because it takes tremendous effort to just follow the rules if your heart isn't into it. If you find that this is your basic attitude, then stop writing. Stay away from it for a week or a year. Wait until you are hungry to say something, until there is an aching in you to speak. Then come back.” 

I think there is true value in getting something down on the page (physical or electronic) on a daily (or regularly scheduled basis.) In a way I feel like daily writing is like sifting for gold in the California Gold Rush. Much of what we find is going to be useless crap, but by sifting through the crap we can uncover some nugget of value.

Not everything I write is worthwhile. In fact, the vast majority of what I put down on the page is absolutely terrible. But for me it’s a way of shedding the bad stuff and getting it out of my head to find the next idea that will be worth pursuing. I need to work through the bad in order to find what I believe to be good…to be worth the effort and energy of building into a fully thought through idea. But to be fair to the author, not everything works for everybody. I’ve read many books on writing and one person’s model or method for turning an idea into a fully-fledged story might not work for someone else. It’s about picking and choosing what works best for you and your creative process. I just feel like, as the author says, “Stay away from it for a week or a year…” could take an author too far away from the process - creating a sense of laziness or procrastination that is hard to recover from. What if one determines that they have nothing urging them to write? What if someone becomes discouraged and never returns to the page? While I agree that, at times, we need to step away (briefly) from our writing to gain perspective, let the work “breathe”, or just give oneself a mental break to refresh, I think to suggest that dutifully writing every day is a waste of energy isn’t completely accurate.

However, one thing that I did find both inspiring and insightful was when the author spoke of her friend’s trip to Europe. The author talked about her friend approaching her writing dutifully like she had done her teaching. It was on the trip that the author’s friend, “decided to try something absurd that she had always wanted to do.” Sometimes it’s important to venture out on a limb. To push yourself to pursue your dreams. To do something that isn’t necessarily the “safe bet.” Life is too short not to venture out into the unknown and put ourselves into a situation where we feel challenged…and out of our comfort zone. It’s possible that we’ll fail. But it’s also possible that we’ll succeed. And, more importantly, that we’ll realize our dreams and full potential as writers.