Friday, April 24, 2015

Twenty-Three: Distance

Yesterday was a fun day.  It was Legacy of Poetry Day and I got to participate and read a Philip Levine poem and one of my own.  It's nice to see people that I haven't seen in a long time and talk about poetry and our lives.

That's the problem.

I kind of reserve these types of things for writing.  Not saying it wasn't great talking to everyone, but talking to people is a release.from all the angst and thoughts in my mind.  It's easier to talk about concepts with people rather than taking the time to write them down.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Twenty Two: Either/Or Gambit

Today, I bought a humble bundle.  Basically, it's a bunch of games that you can pay any amount for and get many games.

I didn't hesitate to buy it.  It's a $155 value for $5.

But then I had some regrets.  

Poverty conditions regret and newton's third law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

For that $5 dollars I could have saved it to send out to other locations, and vice versa, the $50 for duotrope could have gone to this sweet game.

So I tend to look at my "hobbies" in black and white.  Cognitive distortion?  It's the inability to balance.


Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Twenty-One: Intermission (A thought on productivity)

I'm a person of routine.  It's not something I just figured out, but it's something I haven't fully implemented.

At work yesterday, I thought that I need to make the following:
Daily Goals
Weekly Goals
Monthly Goals
Yearly Goals

But I worry that such restrictions will debilitate my ability to break through.  Currently though my routine is follows: sleep, wake, work, internet, sleep, repeat.  Yes, there's some variation with the sleep with sleep, wake, sleep, internet, sleep, repeat, but I think that I could possibly replace one of the sleeps with something else.

At work yesterday, I tried writing a poem during my lunch break.  

I was at Jollyman park with an old laptop writing in my car.  I got tired and went to take a nap.  At work they know I take a nap during my lunch break and tell me "must've had a good nap."

I'm thinking about poetry before work and at work sometimes.  Today, I have to sub again for a 5-6 public speaking class.  This will be the third time in a row.

There are no poems that could reach a crying five year old.  

Monday, April 20, 2015

Twenty: The Original Dream Part 2

I wouldn't shut up about writing.  So these are my plots and these are my characters and this is what's going to happen, and, and, and.  Shut up and write instead of talking about writing.  And so I did.

When I was a junior in high school, someone recommended me to an artist to talk about creating a comic book.  I agreed and did my best to create a script for the comic book.  But looking back we didn't really work around each other, and we had our own ideas on how to create a comic book.

We tried twice:

The first idea was to create a boy and his monster.  I thought it'd be sweet if the monster was the manifestation of the boy when he got angry -- a hulk type of experience, but looking back, I think I should've collaborated more about the idea and see how it went.  Maybe be a bit more supportive of the artist.

The second idea I liked, and still do today.  The title of the comic was Double Helix.  What I didn't realize at the time was the underlying focus of the comic was about San Jose -- the flatlands as I call it.  The male protagonist came from a well to do family from the hills loved racing (initial D style racing) and  a female protagonist flatlander with  a good singing voice.

The end of the first comic was he almost running into her in the middle of a race.

But time goes one, we're doing our own things now.  I still think it's worthwhile to collaborate with people -- but I was never one to find or give the middle ground in such collaborations.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Nineteen: The Original Dream Part 1

I have a dual screen set-up next to me.  On the main screen is this blog, but on the left screen I'm watching a video game cinematic -- specifically fro Mortal Kombat X.

When I was younger, I wanted to write stories for video games and comic books.  I don't know why.  But I thought it'd be fun and I just wanted to see where the story goes.  No one knew me in middle school, but to anyone who would listen, I would tell them what I writing about.  I still have the notes of the cliche anime plot that I was going to create.

Well, here's the plot.  I guy and a girl that represent elemental specialization (water and fire respectively) are tasked to save the world by finding their peers who also have elemental powers (earth, wind, etc.).  Is this the biggest cliche in Fantasy?

I was influenced by this game called Secret of Mana:



The main characters are indeed a guy and a girl, but there was also a sprite.  So from memory, I can name all the elementals in this picture from left to right: Shade, Dryad, Wynn, Luna, Lumina, Gnome, Undine, Salamander.

Anyway, I played Secret of Mana probably thirty times from beginning to end and I wanted to anthropomorphize the elements.  Well, I didn't know at the time, but looking back it makes sense.

But I was awkward.  I put people I knew (not friends mind you) into the plot.  I'm not a good reader of people, but looking back, it would be pretty horrifying if someone told me that he/she put me in their fantastical story.

Cognitive distortion -- how do people write for video games?  Back then, I thought a person majored in English and there'd be jobs for video game writers.  I applied for a couple of jobs for a video game writer after I graduated.  But I'm guessing my knowledge of Poetry doesn't help with this endeavour.

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Eighteen: Complaints or For example (no names)

It's day eighteen and I'm not as angsty as I when I started this series.

I think it's because I don't emote through my work.  When I write or edit a poem, I don't really express my grievances in an emotional manner.  And I think I stated my biggest grievance -- helping out in a community that seems to take more than give, but it might be my own perception.

And even though I think this way, I tend to stick to people that I think give to the community and are usually taken advantage of.

For example, (no names):

Goddamn is this person being used.  I have never seen anyone used by a community as badly as this person.  Could you write a grant? Can you go to this meeting? Can you go to this conference? Can you contact this person?  Can you follow through and make sure this comes out eventually? Can you been a sponge for everyone's emotions and just take it?

Holy crap!  I have huge respect for this person.  I never asked why this person continues to contribute, but this person does.  I'm afraid for this person.  I'm afraid that I might end up as this person.

I keep in contact with this person as much as I can over the years.

Conversely,

What a piece of work this person is!  The only thing I see is the spread of a brand at the cost of other's hard work. People may know the name, maybe the poems, and maybe the person -- but I know how this person wronged people: abandoned people, take credit for other's work, stealing ideas from other, copy/pasting work, blacklisting people. What petty things this person gained from stepping on people.

Yet no one calls this person out because no one wants to offend anyone -- hell this is anonymous as well.  But I don't have any respect or trust for this person.  I'm afraid to become this person in the future.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Seventeen: Lights, Passion --

Yesterday, I went to see my niece be a part of a guitar ensemble.  I watched her parts and then left not wanting to see the others.  I felt slightly bad, but this happens all the time at Poetry readings if there are more than one person featured.  People will leave to only see who they want to see and then leave -- not everyone thought -- just some.

I keep thinking this.

Is this just a constant circle of the same people reading, listening, and reading some more.  The answer is yes.  The answer is no as well.

Yes -- it seems odd but I've been part of the poetry scene here for the last five years and it's always the same drama, the same readers, the same listeners and nothing much changes.  People come and go and that is what changes.  People leave but a core remains the same.

Does this core means that they are passionate or too used to routine?

I'm scared that I'm too used to the lights -- that warm sensation that actually someone is indeed looking at me.  It's easy to grow complacent when the lights are on you.

But passion, passion -- the type that can get me through the day is what I want to keep going.  I'm not the smartest guy, the strongest writer, the deepest thinker, or the most passionate.  I think that I'm a worker -- that's it -- that keeps me going.  Passion at first touch -- I wish.  It's more of passion over time.  Burn out.