I can't help wondering where you've been,
how you deal with these thoughts within.
Happiness so many take for granted
leaves us cold and disenchanted.
Alone for so long and drowning in silence,
I've looked for answers and found no guidance.
All the sunshine in the world
cannot appease a wounded soul.
Cast aside the past and indifferences,
we'll learn to heal and breach the distances.
You don't have to feel alone.
Pack your bags and come on home.
Life has been cruel until now,
tearing us apart, but I vow
to never lose sight of what truly matters
and take each day, chapter by chapter.
Though I may feel hopeless sometimes,
I know you'll never leave my side.
So, I'll dry my tears and try to mend,
remembering there's nothing better than a friend.
2011 (c) Evelyn E. Gaerke
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Inspiration is a Fickle Thing
My entire life I have filled notebooks with ideas for stories. Not once has my imagination run dry when thinking about something I would like to read or see a movie about. When it comes to actually writing these stories, however, I’ve had a bit more trouble. Character planning, plotting, and conflict resolution have always been a bit harder to achieve. I know what kind of story I want, I know how I want it to end, but it’s the bits in between that I have to work for. I can find myself sitting at my laptop or with my notebook, a story idea fresh in my mind and sometimes even an outline, but when it comes to actually writing it, I draw a blank. Is it writer’s block? I’m not entirely certain anymore.
Then there are times when I won’t have anything planned, I’ll just happen to have a notebook or be at my computer and a story hits me and I just write. I can’t tell you how many poems and short stories I have finished this way, and my novella, and all my fan fictions. Pretty much anything I’ve had success with I have not planned. Now, I have had success with planned projects. For the past two years I have participated in NaNoWriMo (http://www.nanowrimo.org/) and I have completed my novels both those years (PhantasyCreator90, if you’re interested). I didn’t do any extensive planning for either, but I did have outlines which I stuck to fairly well.
I don’t know what the problem is sometimes. Maybe it’s that I’m not passionate about that particular project or I’m just a pantser, writer who writes by the seat of their pants. Whatever the issue, I’ve had to learn to just go with the flow and accept that not every project I think up will be completed. Which is fine, I have far too many ideas and completing them all would take YEARS! I am just going to focus on the projects I care enough about to keep my butt in my seat and write and maybe one day I’ll see success with them through my hard work. Who knows?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Casey Anthony: The Trial of a Lifetime
I really didn’t want to write about this trial. I didn’t want to hear anything about it. But as I was sitting in the eye doctor’s office yesterday, waiting for my grandmother, it seemed the whole world could speak of nothing else. The morbid story of a mother who possibly murdered her own baby in a very grotesque manner…of course it would attract all kinds of attention. My twitter feed has been chock full of various reactions of the verdict, most shocked and outraged, the rest exasperated by the media circus.
I think she was guilty, purely on her reaction at the trial. Upon hearing she was not going to be convicted for murder in the 1st degree, she smiled and visibly relaxed. Her life would not be over. She still had something to live for. Except…she was on trial for the murder of her child, a very young child. And I saw no sign of heartbreak for the fact that her baby’s life was over and she’d been granted another chance. Maybe she was just relieved that she wouldn’t have to carry the conviction of the murder of her daughter on her shoulders anymore. Maybe. After all, who am I to argue with the jury or the judge? But it seems to me like it’s too soon for her to smile and be happy about anything. Her daughter is still dead. Her daughter was still viciously killed. Had that been my mother on trial for the death of me or one of my siblings, not even the verdict of not guilty would have made her smile. She would have been heartbroken. Crushed. A mess on the stand. She could not have endured the pictures of the baby’s corpse.
Remember Chicago U.S.
I don’t like all the talk about the mother getting assassinated and such. It’s not for us to punish her. If anyone did murder her they would be stooping to her level. I’m sure she felt justified in her violent actions as well. Murderers often do. She’ll get her punishment in due time. The human mind is a fragile entity and I’m sure her actions will catch up to her, and it will drive her mad, a slow, tormenting punishment she can never escape from. Until then, we must remember to report instances of child abuse and neglect. So there is never a repeat of this again. Listen, look, and love. RIP Caylee Anthony.
Things We Need from a Movie
Over the years I have developed a passion for movies and I’m a sucker for anything with a half decent story line and relatable characters. Of course, I have noticed a trend in the most popular movies. Everyone has that genre that they’re particularly fond of, mine is probably romantic comedy, although I do love a good action flick. With each genre we need to glean a sort of impression in order to truly enjoy the movie.
For horror movies, the story needs to be terrifying and horrific, leaving you afraid to leave even the theater, because that’s why people watch these movies. They need to be frightened in a safe area, but not feel safe. Its all part of the thrill, you see? With action movies, we need to feel impressed. Explosions, fantastic stunts, and a fast paced storyline that keeps us on the edge of our seats until the very end are a must.
Romantic comedies should make us fall in love, laugh, and leave with silly grins that we can’t seem to shake off, just like romantic dramas should make us fall in love, break our hearts, and make us fall in love all over again; and comedies should keep a giggle at the back of your throat, afraid to take a drink of your $4 soda for fear of spewing it all over the person sitting in front of you. And with fantasy and sci-fi movies we should feel mystified and entranced by the strange ideas and creatures shown.
There have been movies that have changed my life, The Little Mermaid taught me to dream big, Moulin Rouge taught me that love is the greatest thing you’ll ever know, and Star Wars taught me that your destiny lies within your hands and not to be afraid of it. These are the movies that left me wanting more at the end, left me thinking about them long after the credits stopped rolling and the screen went black.
And then there are the movies I don’t think about after they end, but which amused me nonetheless in watching them, Clueless, anyone? These movies brought me temporary joy and relief from a busy life with far more downs than ups, but served no greater purpose than eliciting a giggle or a thoughtful “hm”. And that’s alright, because not every movie can be life altering, nor would we want them to be. Far too disruptive.
There are many who complain that the movie industry is losing its artistic capabilities and that they’re pandering to the ignorant masses but movies are first and foremost, entertainment. And we have to remember that sometimes it’s okay to see a movie and just enjoy it for exactly what it is. There will be others that will mean far more to people. Until then, why not enjoy something that just makes you feel good?
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Artistic Expression
I've recently been feeling less myself than usual what with my grandfather's illness and some other personal issues, which has led me to feeling restless and irritated. I fidget constantly and sometimes I'll try to say something and forget what I was going to say. This has been especially obvious the past few weeks and I've been taking some personal time to try to center myself. The only effective method so far? Poetry. It never fails that when I'm feeling down or torn about some issue, I find inspiration and relief through poetry. I'm not a particularly good poet, nor am I ga ga over it. I like poetry, I like music, and I have favorite poets, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Dorothy Parker, and William Shakespeare, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life composing verses.
Therapists have been seeing success for years in introducing creative outlets to those who suffer from various mental anxieties, including children who have been abused, and with good reason. Creating something from seemingly nothing gives you an amazing feeling. When you are proud of your creation you experience a high you can't get anywhere else. You tap into a part of your brain where your emotions just take over and guide you and only writing, drawing, sculpting, etc can release these feelings. When you see a painting, no matter the skill level, from someone who put their entire self into it, you can't help but be affected. Its a completely right-brained capability that needs to be utilized more often than our math and science centered society allows.
Depression is at an all time high, mental anxiety disorders are being diagnosed everyday and people wonder why. I believe a good deal of them are caused by a stifling of emotions and that artistic side that allows you to expend these feelings in a healthy manner. Going through school, any attempts at artistic expression outside of the zero funded art department was frowned upon, even punishable by in-school suspension. My brother was an artist. He loves to draw, has since before he could write. But teachers were constantly harping on him about drawing in class and completely dismissing that drawing was the way he coped with the bullying he suffered, not only from other students but quite often from the teachers themselves. I understand that teachers have a curriculum they have to adhere to as well as having to bend to the will of the school board, but there was no sympathy to the artistically and emotionally inclined.
I was no math whiz. In fact, I hate math. I understand the need for it. But I am no meant to use math in any future career. At least not the complicated math involved in algebra or calculus. But I loved to read and write. I used free time in class to work on fan fictions or small original stories and to read. But there was no place in school for someone like me. The library was only good for checking out books, but most people used it as a social hub instead of a quiet place to indulge in a delicious novel. I wrote, but there was no place in school to showcase it. At least not available to the entire student body. Really, unless one was considered "gifted and talented" by whoever determines a student's complete capabilities without actually testing each and every student, you were put aside and coasted through school.
I've digressed, but my point is, there are so many people with stories out there, or with paintings or sculptures etched into their minds, songs they hum in secret. But nobody will ever hear or see or read them. And maybe that's how some of these people like it. But as somebody with a story to tell and nobody listening until now, I feel like my 13 years of primary and secondary education could have provided me with some kind of outlet. And maybe, just maybe, if we taught tolerance of the arts in school people would become comfortable expressing themselves and they could learn to be happy. That's all I want.
Therapists have been seeing success for years in introducing creative outlets to those who suffer from various mental anxieties, including children who have been abused, and with good reason. Creating something from seemingly nothing gives you an amazing feeling. When you are proud of your creation you experience a high you can't get anywhere else. You tap into a part of your brain where your emotions just take over and guide you and only writing, drawing, sculpting, etc can release these feelings. When you see a painting, no matter the skill level, from someone who put their entire self into it, you can't help but be affected. Its a completely right-brained capability that needs to be utilized more often than our math and science centered society allows.
Depression is at an all time high, mental anxiety disorders are being diagnosed everyday and people wonder why. I believe a good deal of them are caused by a stifling of emotions and that artistic side that allows you to expend these feelings in a healthy manner. Going through school, any attempts at artistic expression outside of the zero funded art department was frowned upon, even punishable by in-school suspension. My brother was an artist. He loves to draw, has since before he could write. But teachers were constantly harping on him about drawing in class and completely dismissing that drawing was the way he coped with the bullying he suffered, not only from other students but quite often from the teachers themselves. I understand that teachers have a curriculum they have to adhere to as well as having to bend to the will of the school board, but there was no sympathy to the artistically and emotionally inclined.
I was no math whiz. In fact, I hate math. I understand the need for it. But I am no meant to use math in any future career. At least not the complicated math involved in algebra or calculus. But I loved to read and write. I used free time in class to work on fan fictions or small original stories and to read. But there was no place in school for someone like me. The library was only good for checking out books, but most people used it as a social hub instead of a quiet place to indulge in a delicious novel. I wrote, but there was no place in school to showcase it. At least not available to the entire student body. Really, unless one was considered "gifted and talented" by whoever determines a student's complete capabilities without actually testing each and every student, you were put aside and coasted through school.
I've digressed, but my point is, there are so many people with stories out there, or with paintings or sculptures etched into their minds, songs they hum in secret. But nobody will ever hear or see or read them. And maybe that's how some of these people like it. But as somebody with a story to tell and nobody listening until now, I feel like my 13 years of primary and secondary education could have provided me with some kind of outlet. And maybe, just maybe, if we taught tolerance of the arts in school people would become comfortable expressing themselves and they could learn to be happy. That's all I want.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
The View from My Window on a Thursday Night
A few weeks ago, while I was still in school, I wrote a short piece as a writing exercise. I thought I'd share that for a blog post. :)
College campuses are stereotypically portrayed as social hubs, the genesis of wild, Greek parties and drunken excursions and like quite a few stereotypes, this has a basis in fact. But let me present to you a slightly different view of a college campus at night.
Its about 10:30 p.m. and the sun has been set for a few hours now. It is most definitely nighttime, the witching hour is right around the corner. The street lights illuminate the sidewalks just enough to find your way around campus with an almost eerie, orange glow which casts a strange tint on one's skin when they walk beneath it.
There are three dorm buildings directly outside my window and there are lights on in every building and quite a few rooms. For a party night there seem to be a lot of people staying in. Of course, finals are next week. I see a group of people gather on the porch of one of the dorm buildings and light up their cigarettes in unison. The smoke rises from their heads in curling streams. They kind of look like a hamlet of houses with smoking chimneys from cozy, little fires built within. I wish they wouldn't turn to nicotine for stress relief but its better than drugs and alcohol so everyone lets them be.
Night is the only time you can ever really see how lonely some people are. I see lone figures trudging along the sidewalks, shoulders bent, feet dragging. They look like they are carrying the weight of the world and I can't help but think, 'I know exactly how you feel.'
A car with the bass on its stereo turned up all the way just drove by. I can feel the beat in the base of my stomach. Its a very unsettling feeling and I wonder how they can stand it when it bothers me all the way up on the eighth floor? I assume they're doing it to impress someone but really they're just announcing how obnoxious they are. I mean, at that decibel, is it even music anymore?
Other than that, its a pretty quiet night. The stars twinkle sedately in the sky, the creek has settled into a comfortable rhythm after the run off from all the rain we've had. Its nights like these that bring out the philosopher in me. I can't wait for the sun to rise tomorrow.
Current thoughts about this: My college has announced their plans to ban smoking from their campus starting in July. I seriously doubt that's going to go over well. I mean, a LOT of students smoke. And with the work the professors load us down with can certainly drive one's stress level through the roof. I expect protests and such, or at least many murmured dissenting opinions. As for myself, if they would only ban smoking on the sidewalks to and from class I would be happy. Its hard for me to walk and breathe smoke in from the person's cigarette in front of me and I'm usually wheezing from it when I get to class.Another thought, not really related to college; I wish the American version of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone hadn't changed it to Sorcerer. I love the Philosopher aspect of the creation of the stone. Sorcerer, to me, translates to wizard and the book's full of them. Just saying.
College campuses are stereotypically portrayed as social hubs, the genesis of wild, Greek parties and drunken excursions and like quite a few stereotypes, this has a basis in fact. But let me present to you a slightly different view of a college campus at night.
Its about 10:30 p.m. and the sun has been set for a few hours now. It is most definitely nighttime, the witching hour is right around the corner. The street lights illuminate the sidewalks just enough to find your way around campus with an almost eerie, orange glow which casts a strange tint on one's skin when they walk beneath it.
There are three dorm buildings directly outside my window and there are lights on in every building and quite a few rooms. For a party night there seem to be a lot of people staying in. Of course, finals are next week. I see a group of people gather on the porch of one of the dorm buildings and light up their cigarettes in unison. The smoke rises from their heads in curling streams. They kind of look like a hamlet of houses with smoking chimneys from cozy, little fires built within. I wish they wouldn't turn to nicotine for stress relief but its better than drugs and alcohol so everyone lets them be.
Night is the only time you can ever really see how lonely some people are. I see lone figures trudging along the sidewalks, shoulders bent, feet dragging. They look like they are carrying the weight of the world and I can't help but think, 'I know exactly how you feel.'
A car with the bass on its stereo turned up all the way just drove by. I can feel the beat in the base of my stomach. Its a very unsettling feeling and I wonder how they can stand it when it bothers me all the way up on the eighth floor? I assume they're doing it to impress someone but really they're just announcing how obnoxious they are. I mean, at that decibel, is it even music anymore?
Other than that, its a pretty quiet night. The stars twinkle sedately in the sky, the creek has settled into a comfortable rhythm after the run off from all the rain we've had. Its nights like these that bring out the philosopher in me. I can't wait for the sun to rise tomorrow.
Current thoughts about this: My college has announced their plans to ban smoking from their campus starting in July. I seriously doubt that's going to go over well. I mean, a LOT of students smoke. And with the work the professors load us down with can certainly drive one's stress level through the roof. I expect protests and such, or at least many murmured dissenting opinions. As for myself, if they would only ban smoking on the sidewalks to and from class I would be happy. Its hard for me to walk and breathe smoke in from the person's cigarette in front of me and I'm usually wheezing from it when I get to class.Another thought, not really related to college; I wish the American version of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone hadn't changed it to Sorcerer. I love the Philosopher aspect of the creation of the stone. Sorcerer, to me, translates to wizard and the book's full of them. Just saying.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Unwritten
I've been struggling with inspiration lately. As far as poetry goes, I'm fine, but anything above the length of a status update has had me stumped. I know I'm not the only one to experience this seeming drought of the imagination, there are hosts of YouTube videos and blog posts concerning just this, but it can seem like you're all alone when its happening. I can't help but question everything, my eating habits, my level of exercise, how much TV I watch, how many people I've talked to that day, ridiculous things. Finally, after not updating for a few weeks, I knew I had to post something, so why not talk about writer's block?
I've found I experience it more when I am the least productive. When I had my work study in my college's English department, I wrote all the time. I have a notebook filled with at least seven novel ideas and a couple short stories. I would think of a brilliant idea in class and scribble in the margins of my notes. And while cleaning or doing homework, words would just come to me like water from a faucet. There was no limit. Since school has gone out and I don't have a job, I've been busy taking care of my grandmother, visiting my grandfather in the hospital, and keeping up with the summer reruns. And I find I have a lot of spare time in the afternoons and nights...of which I take no advantage of. I have a notebook I carry around in case inspiration sparks but nada. I've been working on some poetry and I have come up with a couple more novel ideas, but what's an idea without follow through? Just scribbled words on a piece of college ruled paper. Easily disposed of.
I have two fanfictions I need to complete, a short story I would love to have done before my creative writing course in the fall (squeal!!!), and a novel I would love to have halfway finished before school starts. Luckily, http://www.nanowrimo.org/ is hosting a summer session of its notorious 30 day novel writing event, complete with message boards, encouraging e-mails, and a social network of like-minded individuals, all at my fingertips. I'm hoping to use this time to a.) jumpstart my summer writing and b.) finish this novel idea I've had percolating for a couple of years now. I've completed two novels using this method and a half a novel which I may go back to some day, so I know its effective, if a little stressful.
Other than that, my summer is looking pretty empty. What are your summer plans? Leave a reply in the comments, I'd love to hear from you!
I've found I experience it more when I am the least productive. When I had my work study in my college's English department, I wrote all the time. I have a notebook filled with at least seven novel ideas and a couple short stories. I would think of a brilliant idea in class and scribble in the margins of my notes. And while cleaning or doing homework, words would just come to me like water from a faucet. There was no limit. Since school has gone out and I don't have a job, I've been busy taking care of my grandmother, visiting my grandfather in the hospital, and keeping up with the summer reruns. And I find I have a lot of spare time in the afternoons and nights...of which I take no advantage of. I have a notebook I carry around in case inspiration sparks but nada. I've been working on some poetry and I have come up with a couple more novel ideas, but what's an idea without follow through? Just scribbled words on a piece of college ruled paper. Easily disposed of.
I have two fanfictions I need to complete, a short story I would love to have done before my creative writing course in the fall (squeal!!!), and a novel I would love to have halfway finished before school starts. Luckily, http://www.nanowrimo.org/ is hosting a summer session of its notorious 30 day novel writing event, complete with message boards, encouraging e-mails, and a social network of like-minded individuals, all at my fingertips. I'm hoping to use this time to a.) jumpstart my summer writing and b.) finish this novel idea I've had percolating for a couple of years now. I've completed two novels using this method and a half a novel which I may go back to some day, so I know its effective, if a little stressful.
Other than that, my summer is looking pretty empty. What are your summer plans? Leave a reply in the comments, I'd love to hear from you!
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