Well, momentum has picked back up after a brief hiatus, and things are...dare I say it? Good. Like, really good. Surprisingly, I-don't-know-how-this-happened good. I got a 3.33 this semester, which is higher than I've ever gotten; I have 2 weeks to pack up my apartment, and 3 weeks to revise an essay I wrote, as it has been nominated for a Banks Award, which isn't really much, but it will certainly look good on a grad school resume, and I think there's like 100 bucks in it if I win. Which I will. I mean, I don't want to sound cocky or anything, but I'm determined to win this thing, and I know beyond even a shadow of doubt that I'm an excellent academic writer, so there's no reason to assume that I will lose, right? I suppose that being alright with life is far less interesting to you, reader, so I apologize for not having any tragicomical tales of my absurdly depressing life to share, but the moment the roof caves in, or the other shoe drops on me, I will be sure to let you know. Also, I have to run to work now, or I'd probably be compelled to write more ridiculous/funny story-type stuff on here. Because, you know, that's sorta the whole point of this blog, which I always seem to lose sight of. Just gotta remember to write more often, and I'll get back on that wagon. Which apparently is a metaphor for alcoholism. So, to clarify, the storytelling wagon is the one I'm getting back on. Not the alcoholism one. I was never on that one.
QOTD:
"Maturity includes the recognition that no one is going to see anything in us that we don't see in ourselves. Stop waiting for a producer. Produce yourself."
- Marianne Williamson
Friday, May 20, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Newton's First Law
Folks, it turns out I am very much a creature of inertia. When compelled to start hauling ass and taking care of things, like my life, I am apparently more than capable of the task. However, when there is nothing compelling me to keep going, I lose momentum to the friction of fatigue. This takes about 12 weeks to happen, but it has arrived at last. The past month or so, I haven't really been taking care of all of the things that I've been working on, instead focusing on just getting through school. I vow to pick up right where I left off, but it'll have to wait just 6 more days, until I'm done with these two papers, and then I can clean up my apartment, re-situate my workout schedule again, cook more than I have been (I've been hit-and-miss on that front, unfortunately...only 4ish nights/week), pack, get my sleep schedule shifted back the 90 minutes or so that it's crept up, and have a great summer, doing all of the things I've never been able to do during the summer in Moscow, since my job has me working during the day, M-F, instead of only in the evenings, when people are doing things. I'm looking forward to it, and especially looking forward to having time to plan ahead on things again.
In other thoughts, I've been curious about something recently, and I'm not sure what the solution to this question is, but...here we go. It seems like performers on the whole are perceived as caricatures and characters, rather than people. That is to say, when I do shows, people tend to see me as "That funny guy" rather than as a human being, and displace any desires or emotions I may have as being outside their perception of me as "a comedian". I exist, in their minds, exclusively as a source of humor and stories, and no regard is given to me when I'm serious about something, or when I stop kidding and attempt to carry out an intelligent discourse with someone. I've spoken with actors here at the university as well, and this seems to be a pretty universal sentiment. Case in point: Met up with some friends, and one started talking about politics, mentioning that "Bin Laden's death had nothing to do with Obama", and spouting off the ridiculous bullshit that conservatives have been putting up on Facebook in response to the event. I argued with her, stating that President Obama had no hand in "deciding whether or not to pay soldiers", and went on to explain the structure of the US government and the realities behind the potential shutdown. She refused to acknowledge my input, because "what do I know, I'm just a comic".
Because apparently, being a comic is exclusive of having any sort of intelligence whatsoever, or even a fundamental grasp on the nature of the United States government.
Second case: Was chatting with another girl after one of my classes. Casually asked her if she'd like to come to a play I'm going to on Friday night, and she replied with "Wow..well, I never even really thought about you like that, you know? You're funny in your shows, but...I guess I never expected you to ask anyone out."
What the hell does that mean?! Really? Because I'm a comic, I'm no longer single, or a human being? Eff you, Ms. B.L. Rejection is one thing, and happens sometimes (about 60% of the time?). I'm fine with that. This just makes me bitter.
Quote today is incredibly relevant, as it's something I've been wrestling with for a couple of weeks now.
QOTD:
"I used to think that humor was the only way to appreciate how wonderful and terrible the world is, to celebrate how big life is. But now I think the opposite. Humor is a way of shrinking from that wonderful and terrible world."
— Jonathan Safran Foer (Everything Is Illuminated)
In other thoughts, I've been curious about something recently, and I'm not sure what the solution to this question is, but...here we go. It seems like performers on the whole are perceived as caricatures and characters, rather than people. That is to say, when I do shows, people tend to see me as "That funny guy" rather than as a human being, and displace any desires or emotions I may have as being outside their perception of me as "a comedian". I exist, in their minds, exclusively as a source of humor and stories, and no regard is given to me when I'm serious about something, or when I stop kidding and attempt to carry out an intelligent discourse with someone. I've spoken with actors here at the university as well, and this seems to be a pretty universal sentiment. Case in point: Met up with some friends, and one started talking about politics, mentioning that "Bin Laden's death had nothing to do with Obama", and spouting off the ridiculous bullshit that conservatives have been putting up on Facebook in response to the event. I argued with her, stating that President Obama had no hand in "deciding whether or not to pay soldiers", and went on to explain the structure of the US government and the realities behind the potential shutdown. She refused to acknowledge my input, because "what do I know, I'm just a comic".
Because apparently, being a comic is exclusive of having any sort of intelligence whatsoever, or even a fundamental grasp on the nature of the United States government.
Second case: Was chatting with another girl after one of my classes. Casually asked her if she'd like to come to a play I'm going to on Friday night, and she replied with "Wow..well, I never even really thought about you like that, you know? You're funny in your shows, but...I guess I never expected you to ask anyone out."
What the hell does that mean?! Really? Because I'm a comic, I'm no longer single, or a human being? Eff you, Ms. B.L. Rejection is one thing, and happens sometimes (about 60% of the time?). I'm fine with that. This just makes me bitter.
Quote today is incredibly relevant, as it's something I've been wrestling with for a couple of weeks now.
QOTD:
"I used to think that humor was the only way to appreciate how wonderful and terrible the world is, to celebrate how big life is. But now I think the opposite. Humor is a way of shrinking from that wonderful and terrible world."
— Jonathan Safran Foer (Everything Is Illuminated)
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