In comparison to the first week of school, by the fourth week, I can tell a bit more where my energy is going. In short: everything takes five times the effort I originally expected. Sigh.
Admissions:
As an intern, my job is to interview prospective students, and assist the overall admissions process. I answer emails, work the front desk, speak with families, do filing. Right now, the counselors are working like mad, reading applications and meeting in committee. Each application gets read twice, then discussed in committee. Molly explained to me that the process is much more egalitarian here as compared to other colleges/universities. The first reader serves as the lawyer for the student, arguing their case to the rest of the admissions board. The decision is made by consensus, not solely by the dean.
Through this process, my respect for the admissions counselors has grown even larger than before. The sheer quantity of work they do is incredible.
Sco:
This week was a good one, dancing-wise. I grew up around music--my Dad ran a PA company, my grandmother has a Ph.D in music, my parents used to sing to me all the time. So when I need something to make me happy, music works best. Especially loud, silly music. On Wednesday, the Sco hosted Motown night, which got very, very crowded. I heard songs I haven't heard since election night, which was one of the happiest events of my life. The elation to "you can feel it all over" by Stevie Wonder was amazing, and the rest of the group was so alive. Whenever a mass of 100 people dance, there's so much energy generated that the mood becomes potent, electric.
Thursday's techno night was much more relaxed. My friend Daniel was DJ-ing--he played excellent trance. I met Daniel before school started: he's a first-year international student and I was catering some of the orientation events he attended. I remember working at a karaoke picnic, and arguing with him about which one of us should sing first. Anyone I can argue with is someone I want to befriend.
Yesterday, the Sco hosted a fundraiser for IYS (Immerse Yourself in Service) which hosted Triceratops, B-52s Cover Band, Bowie Band, and OSTEEL. Picture this entry, now add more hopeless noodling over how cool the Bowie band is. Their guitar players are ill, sick, ridiculous, and impressive. They turned "5 Years" into a rock epic. After the Bowie set, the crowd chanted "One more song!" or "Ten more songs! At my house!"
When we finished dancing, Ma'ayan invited myself, Yoshi, and Amanda back to Harkness for some pie. During the day, Ma'ayan and Daniel had made Derby, Bavarian Creme, and Chocolate-Coconut-Pecan pies.
Pie = Love.
Neurophysiology:
Some people speak Spanish, French, Chinese. My friends speak Science. If I didn't speak at least some pidgin Science, I couldn't understand them at all.
At Oberlin, I've taken Human Neurobiology, Behavioral Neuroscience, Abnormal Psychology and, at present, Neurophysiology. As much "vocabulary" as I've learned in class, I've gotten most of my grammar from my friends. I heard about Becca's woes with programming for experiments on childhood development, Alex and Jo Ling's fish, conversations on whether snails or crayfish would prove more effective for gathering data on neuronal membrane potentials.
I can tell I learned something in college because when I read this phrase at a normal pace: "'Cerebral activation patterns induced by inflection of regular and irregular verbs with positron emission tomography. A comparison between single subject and group analysis'" ... I understood it completely.
Three years ago? Not so much.
I wonder what my college career would have been if more of my friends spoke fluent Humanities. I might know about epistemology, determinism, or radical self-conscious ethnocentrism. As is, there's always more to learn.
Writing:
Creative Writing is a fascinating major--we don't have Honors, Capstones, or Theses. We just write, write, and write. This semester, I'm working with Chelsey Johnson and Sylvia Watanabe on a super-long project: The Novel.
Remember the Novella from last semester? That was the larva. This semester, I've gotta hatch a butterfly.
With Sylvia, I'm in a super-small workshop (five people) who are all top-notch kick-butt writers. Most of us were in Novella last semester, so we've got a feel for each other's styles already and have gotten comfortable being very constructive with one another. Workshops work when you can say to a writer: "This character? He's a jerk. He's not funny. He's not smart. Why is he here?" ... without being self-conscious.
With Chelsey, I'm going over the piece, full blast, each week. We did a close reading the other day and met for over 2 hours. It was great. Chelsey's focus is fabulism, a super-crazy writing style similar to magical realism, from writers like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Aimee Bender, and Ursula LeGuin. She gets my weird, post-apocalyptic romance stories.
Happily, my friends get it too, as the other language they speak is art. Making it, mostly, not analyzing. The mechanics of the creative process are so fascinatingly messy. All the rehearsals that take too long, the film shoots that die in poor lighting, the muscles pulled before the rehearsal, the paint splattered on new clothes, or hours of research for a character who will take up about a minute of script.
Even if we don't love the same thing, we love it in the same way.
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Main Street Readings: Flash fiction, poetry, and bluegrass!
Dear All,
We are delighted to invite you to read your flash fiction stories at the Valentine's Day Main Street Reading on Sunday night, February 15 at 8 p.m. Before we announce you as the winners of our competition...(etc).The five invited readers and their stories are:
Mack Gelber: "Frosted Flakes"
Sarah Hoffman: "Toaster Angels"
Aries Indenbaum: "The Happiest Place on Earth"
Marilyn McDonald: "A Certain Age"
Anna-Claire Stinebring: "Odd Jobs"
We will be sending out a general announcement soon. Thanks so much and congratulations!
Lynn Powell & David Young
----
When I got the note, I started dancing in the library and letting out some jubilant obscenities. I hadn't expected to win, especially for a story I hadn't workshopped, in a style I was new at. It made the whole thing very, very sweet.
The Main Street Readings pair the Creative Writing department with the local community, which is flush with great authors. Events take place at the "New Union Center for the Arts", an old schoolhouse with a giant steeple. I've seen poetry readings there, children's theater, fashion and arts displays. Freshman year, Boredom, a semi-improvised dramedy group, used to perform there. The place reeks of good memories.
Boredom: Guy, the cool older kid, with Shawn, the neighborhood cutie, attached.
The V-Day readings started with the Outhouse Troubadours, a twangy, loud, and totally kickass bluegrass band. The players were tight, their sound was spot-on. Doug, who lived in my dorm last year, is an awesome banjo player. He murdered his solos in gorgeous new ways. Their fiddle, guitar, mandolin and upright bass players were similarly skilled -- the fiddler plays in OSTEEL as well and seems an all-around musical wunderkin.
I know their singer, Alex, who kicked the crack out of her notes. I didn't think Obies could sing with that much country. Best of all, they were all really, really into it. You can always tell when the band actually loves to play, and they did.
Outhouse Troubadours at the Cat, photo credit to Ethan Robbins.
After the band, Nancy Boutilier read love poems. Now, my inner sap aside, I don't really do love poems. They unleash whole new worlds of atrocious. I normally feel a bit nauseated after hearing five. But not now.
Nancy's poems were brilliant. She wrote the way I want to write: explosive, funny, poignant, amazing and sharp. At the end, when she said she liked my piece, I felt like I'd been regaled by sweet angels.
Then, it was the students' turn. Marilyn McDonald had written about elementary school love, which the night's organizer, Lynn Powell, read aloud. Marilyn isn't a student, but a violin teacher in the Con, now playing in DC. Oh, Oberlin. The second writer, Mack, wrote one of the meaningful, thoughtful pieces I can never create. He focused on the frayed relationship between a middle-aged husband and wife. The story was melancholy, but never outright sad, or depressing, just very... realistic. Anna-Claire's piece was incredibly visual, emotional without being melodramatic. It was like watching a gorgeous short film, rather than a story. It was simple--girl has sunburn, boy helps her find pharmacy--but loving in a larger and more gorgeous way.
The third story was easily my favorite of the night. Sarah wrote letters from a man begging forgiveness for his emotional unreachability. The letters were hilarious, describing angels in the toasters, and the alien-ness of the narrator, who called himself an "autistic badger." Sarah had a deadpan, Buster Keaton-esque delivery that proved remarkably effective, reducing the audience to spasms of laughter.
Despite my confidence with storytelling to large groups, I get terrible stagefright if I have to read in public. Like piss-myself-and-cry stagefright. I sat on my hands so they wouldn't shake. There were about 60 people there, but I knew many of them. Somehow, friends are scarier than strangers. My story was also the only "R rated" tale, driving a small family out of the room. It was a story of teenagers in lust, at Disneyworld. Some of my professors were in the audience, and the thought of saying inappropriate things in front of them was galling. Still, I did it.
Afterwards, there was wine and chocolate, the best way to end a weekend.
We are delighted to invite you to read your flash fiction stories at the Valentine's Day Main Street Reading on Sunday night, February 15 at 8 p.m. Before we announce you as the winners of our competition...(etc).The five invited readers and their stories are:
Mack Gelber: "Frosted Flakes"
Sarah Hoffman: "Toaster Angels"
Aries Indenbaum: "The Happiest Place on Earth"
Marilyn McDonald: "A Certain Age"
Anna-Claire Stinebring: "Odd Jobs"
We will be sending out a general announcement soon. Thanks so much and congratulations!
Lynn Powell & David Young
----
When I got the note, I started dancing in the library and letting out some jubilant obscenities. I hadn't expected to win, especially for a story I hadn't workshopped, in a style I was new at. It made the whole thing very, very sweet.
The Main Street Readings pair the Creative Writing department with the local community, which is flush with great authors. Events take place at the "New Union Center for the Arts", an old schoolhouse with a giant steeple. I've seen poetry readings there, children's theater, fashion and arts displays. Freshman year, Boredom, a semi-improvised dramedy group, used to perform there. The place reeks of good memories.
Boredom: Guy, the cool older kid, with Shawn, the neighborhood cutie, attached.
The V-Day readings started with the Outhouse Troubadours, a twangy, loud, and totally kickass bluegrass band. The players were tight, their sound was spot-on. Doug, who lived in my dorm last year, is an awesome banjo player. He murdered his solos in gorgeous new ways. Their fiddle, guitar, mandolin and upright bass players were similarly skilled -- the fiddler plays in OSTEEL as well and seems an all-around musical wunderkin.
I know their singer, Alex, who kicked the crack out of her notes. I didn't think Obies could sing with that much country. Best of all, they were all really, really into it. You can always tell when the band actually loves to play, and they did.
Outhouse Troubadours at the Cat, photo credit to Ethan Robbins.
After the band, Nancy Boutilier read love poems. Now, my inner sap aside, I don't really do love poems. They unleash whole new worlds of atrocious. I normally feel a bit nauseated after hearing five. But not now.
Nancy's poems were brilliant. She wrote the way I want to write: explosive, funny, poignant, amazing and sharp. At the end, when she said she liked my piece, I felt like I'd been regaled by sweet angels.
Then, it was the students' turn. Marilyn McDonald had written about elementary school love, which the night's organizer, Lynn Powell, read aloud. Marilyn isn't a student, but a violin teacher in the Con, now playing in DC. Oh, Oberlin. The second writer, Mack, wrote one of the meaningful, thoughtful pieces I can never create. He focused on the frayed relationship between a middle-aged husband and wife. The story was melancholy, but never outright sad, or depressing, just very... realistic. Anna-Claire's piece was incredibly visual, emotional without being melodramatic. It was like watching a gorgeous short film, rather than a story. It was simple--girl has sunburn, boy helps her find pharmacy--but loving in a larger and more gorgeous way.
The third story was easily my favorite of the night. Sarah wrote letters from a man begging forgiveness for his emotional unreachability. The letters were hilarious, describing angels in the toasters, and the alien-ness of the narrator, who called himself an "autistic badger." Sarah had a deadpan, Buster Keaton-esque delivery that proved remarkably effective, reducing the audience to spasms of laughter.
Despite my confidence with storytelling to large groups, I get terrible stagefright if I have to read in public. Like piss-myself-and-cry stagefright. I sat on my hands so they wouldn't shake. There were about 60 people there, but I knew many of them. Somehow, friends are scarier than strangers. My story was also the only "R rated" tale, driving a small family out of the room. It was a story of teenagers in lust, at Disneyworld. Some of my professors were in the audience, and the thought of saying inappropriate things in front of them was galling. Still, I did it.
Afterwards, there was wine and chocolate, the best way to end a weekend.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
To Do List
To Do:
(I think you can tell a lot about someone by their To Do list.)
Memorize and Block Scene from Arcadia for David Walker's Contemporary British and Irish Drama class.
There are many reasons that David Walker's class is amazing. It's the quintessential discussion class at its most effective. David makes sure the conversation avoids becoming cyclical, but doesn't lead discussion too forcefully, save to have us focus on individual scenes at some points. Discussion moves swiftly, as everyone in the room cares. The class has an interesting mix of Theater and English majors, two very different groups with very different concerns. When we do check-ins--a quick go-round-the-room of each person's gut response to the play--I hear an incredible flurry of comments addressing everything from structure, to gender, a character's particular motivation, intellectual ideals, trouble with staging, one's emotional response, use of language, social implications and a million other things.
We're reading Tom Stoppard's Arcadia this week, so a familiar phrase in check-in was "My mind is blown." Chris Sherwood has spent years telling me about how amazing this play was, and how he needed to do it as his honors project. Then, he would start babbling about gardening, budding sexuality, hermits, historical revisionism and how staging it in Hall Auditorium would be the best thing in the history of the world excepting the invention of Legos. And for years, I would nod and say, "Of course, Chris. Absolutely."
Except Chris was correct. Arcadia is amazing.
The other repeated check-in question was: "I wonder how this looks staged."
That's my homework. Each week, two folks in the class present a scene--blocked, memorized and polished. It's really incredible to watch the classroom get transformed into a stage and to see my demonstrative, passionate classmates become a rapt audience. I'm up for this week, playing 13-year-old prodigy Thomasina as she plots fractals, plays the chaos game and gets googly-eyed over her tutor. I'm excited, but I'm awful at memorizing. I love doing "research"... which is to say, reading about chaos theory.
I'm also doing the scene with Alex Huntsberger, one of the best actors at Oberlin. Normally, Alex is a pretty relaxed guy. But when he goes into character, it's incredible. The Alex-ness of him goes away, and someone completely different peeks out from behind his eyes. I've seen him in shows before--but to watch the transformation from 2 feet away is ... mind-blowing.
PS: When I botched one of the monologues, I kept my face down for a large part of the following discussion. Damn you, overdeveloped sense of shame.
Write More for my Novella Class
Right now, I've churned out 47 pages of a dystopian love story criticizing big box culture called "Wasteland." It involves sewage, child labor, the 1939 World Fair, engineering and romance. I need about 20 more pages, and need to polish it up before my Novella class eats it alive. Novellas are "baby novels," so we're aiming for stories between 50 to 75 pages, which is pretty demanding.
After years of workshop classes, I've got a pretty thick skin, so I'm none too worried about my class of 12 brutalizing my little baby story. But they're all really smart, so I want to make the best use of their time. So the more story I have written, the more effective their commentary. The class has a fascinating mix of writers, all with very different tastes and styles. Some of the novellas are solidly realistic; others more stylized, experimental and surreal. Many of my classmates are taking really big risks--writing through unreliable narrators, or doing fascinating things with form. It's fascinating to watch them through the process.
Paper for Ancient Greek and Roman Sexuality Class!
- Decide whether writing on Catullus or Tibullus.
- Choose poems: read the naughty parts of Catullus out loud to friends.
- Think up brilliant thesis. Smile contentedly.
- Write outline, then discuss with Professor-Captain Kirk Ormand.
- Write first draft, go to Writing Center, weep, rewrite.
- Get an A on paper.
- Rejoice!
The Rest of the List:
- Borrow Nikki's astronomy notes from day missed due to illness. Read about black holes.
- Write lesson plan on Busking for Circus Arts Exco.
- Go Rock Climbing.
- Go to Tumbling Club.
- Go see Jesse's Senior Recital, The Illusion, Cinderella (Cendrillon, an opera), David Bowie movie The Hunger.
- Lead a few circus meetings.
- Run the Turkey Trot?
- Get some sleep?
(I think you can tell a lot about someone by their To Do list.)
Memorize and Block Scene from Arcadia for David Walker's Contemporary British and Irish Drama class.
There are many reasons that David Walker's class is amazing. It's the quintessential discussion class at its most effective. David makes sure the conversation avoids becoming cyclical, but doesn't lead discussion too forcefully, save to have us focus on individual scenes at some points. Discussion moves swiftly, as everyone in the room cares. The class has an interesting mix of Theater and English majors, two very different groups with very different concerns. When we do check-ins--a quick go-round-the-room of each person's gut response to the play--I hear an incredible flurry of comments addressing everything from structure, to gender, a character's particular motivation, intellectual ideals, trouble with staging, one's emotional response, use of language, social implications and a million other things.
We're reading Tom Stoppard's Arcadia this week, so a familiar phrase in check-in was "My mind is blown." Chris Sherwood has spent years telling me about how amazing this play was, and how he needed to do it as his honors project. Then, he would start babbling about gardening, budding sexuality, hermits, historical revisionism and how staging it in Hall Auditorium would be the best thing in the history of the world excepting the invention of Legos. And for years, I would nod and say, "Of course, Chris. Absolutely."
Except Chris was correct. Arcadia is amazing.
The other repeated check-in question was: "I wonder how this looks staged."
That's my homework. Each week, two folks in the class present a scene--blocked, memorized and polished. It's really incredible to watch the classroom get transformed into a stage and to see my demonstrative, passionate classmates become a rapt audience. I'm up for this week, playing 13-year-old prodigy Thomasina as she plots fractals, plays the chaos game and gets googly-eyed over her tutor. I'm excited, but I'm awful at memorizing. I love doing "research"... which is to say, reading about chaos theory.
I'm also doing the scene with Alex Huntsberger, one of the best actors at Oberlin. Normally, Alex is a pretty relaxed guy. But when he goes into character, it's incredible. The Alex-ness of him goes away, and someone completely different peeks out from behind his eyes. I've seen him in shows before--but to watch the transformation from 2 feet away is ... mind-blowing.
PS: When I botched one of the monologues, I kept my face down for a large part of the following discussion. Damn you, overdeveloped sense of shame.
Write More for my Novella Class
Right now, I've churned out 47 pages of a dystopian love story criticizing big box culture called "Wasteland." It involves sewage, child labor, the 1939 World Fair, engineering and romance. I need about 20 more pages, and need to polish it up before my Novella class eats it alive. Novellas are "baby novels," so we're aiming for stories between 50 to 75 pages, which is pretty demanding.
After years of workshop classes, I've got a pretty thick skin, so I'm none too worried about my class of 12 brutalizing my little baby story. But they're all really smart, so I want to make the best use of their time. So the more story I have written, the more effective their commentary. The class has a fascinating mix of writers, all with very different tastes and styles. Some of the novellas are solidly realistic; others more stylized, experimental and surreal. Many of my classmates are taking really big risks--writing through unreliable narrators, or doing fascinating things with form. It's fascinating to watch them through the process.
Paper for Ancient Greek and Roman Sexuality Class!
- Decide whether writing on Catullus or Tibullus.
- Choose poems: read the naughty parts of Catullus out loud to friends.
- Think up brilliant thesis. Smile contentedly.
- Write outline, then discuss with Professor-Captain Kirk Ormand.
- Write first draft, go to Writing Center, weep, rewrite.
- Get an A on paper.
- Rejoice!
The Rest of the List:
- Borrow Nikki's astronomy notes from day missed due to illness. Read about black holes.
- Write lesson plan on Busking for Circus Arts Exco.
- Go Rock Climbing.
- Go to Tumbling Club.
- Go see Jesse's Senior Recital, The Illusion, Cinderella (Cendrillon, an opera), David Bowie movie The Hunger.
- Lead a few circus meetings.
- Run the Turkey Trot?
- Get some sleep?
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Status reports
There are few things better than a good Administrator. Systems exist for a reason- they give structure and power. When people know how to navigate the system with kindness, care and humanity- they are enormously powerful.
--
After catering, I got my syllabus for Novella class with Sylvia Watanabe. It's pretty common for professors teaching upper-level classes to distribute their syllubai before class begins, so students can prepare the readings/homework early, or go bargain book hunting to make textbooks more affordable.
Verdict: this class will be bliss and rapture.
From the syllabus- "Class mantra: This is a workshop. "
Our final Paper Topic is: "Why this book sucks/does not suck."
This is why I love writing classes. Whereas in English classes, you talk about the social implications and various merits, the Creative Writing questions are: "Does it work? How does it work? Can we change it?"
---
Catering for the International students is pretty righteous. Everyone is from everywhere! At the opening International Students Dinner, I found some folks born in the US, but educated entirely abroad, who had taken my tour in the spring. One was from the Netherlands, but had gone to school in Croatia, Britain, South Africa... and had an awesome sense of humor.
Aries: So, your parents are spies?
Nederlad: They don't like me to talk about it.
A: Does that mean CIA?
Nederlad: It could mean that. If you want it to.
I forgot that most foreigners eat.... slowly. It's a bit agonizing when you're waitserving. At least Americans, for all our piggishness, eat fast. And finish fast.
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