Family-Can't live with'em, can't shoot'em neither.

That's a phrase my aunt has told me many years ago and today it has shown itself to be a true. My mother is "not herself" and has planned a whole day of "not being herself." This I could hear in her voice. When I called my brother to alert him of that, he let me know that whenever my mother claimed to be going to a meeting (AA-Al-Anon) she really means a Meeting to get what she can't have. I had learned long ago that hope was something I could never have with her. It had been ingrained into me by her forceful actions. Now, again, she is letting me know by her slurred voice and unsteady movements that she is does not deserve hope. It will be wasted by her, because she is already wasted. I hate that she is like this, but I hate more still, that I allowed myself to be fooled by her. Shame on me.

Writers block!

I am in the middle of writing my senior writing project. I need 20 and have written 15. Things were going great. I was writing well. But now I am not. Everything I put down seems wrong, or does not give me any feeling of rightness. When it's good I can feel it, I let the words drip out of me and before I know it, I have something grate. But what I am adding now does not feel that way. I need to jazz things up. I can't let this story die on me. Not now not ever!

Ads.

I recently saw a movie in my Social Psych titled Consuming Kids.  This shocking documentary showed how kids are being marketed to in levels never seen before. Advertisers will not only test their ads to find the right attention grabbing moments, but will also imply the nag factor. Just what is this factor: How much a child nags until the desired item is bought. Marketers WANT kids to nag and have searched for the proper ways to GET them to nag. With all this said, I have a question to ask. How bad are ads really?

The movie is clear that ads contribute to the lack creativity. Kids don't exorcise their brain muscles. Instead they only imitate what is scene. One child psychologist added that adds have done more then just slow the creative mind. They make children want money. In his early years up to now he'd always ask the same question. "What would you like to be when you grow up." Before the 80s the answered varied. Some kids said firemen, some said nurse. But today he reports that his new patients overwhelmingly respond with rich. Not a profession that could make them rich. Just rich. It is true adds may have contributed to that, but I have this to say.
If adds hinder a child's thinking skill so it can only imitate what it sees, then why are all the pre 1980s kids responding with generic jobs? To drive the bad add point home this movie showed an old TV show where people asked kids the same job question. As usual they answered with the same generic jobs that everyone knows about.  Now this clip does make me think poorly of the post 80s adds. But it also made me think of something else. Kids seem to imitate a lot of things through out childhood. The only problem is that what kids imitate are not what used to be. Children said the generic job titles because thats all they knew. Now all they know is something different. Is that all bad? Hard to say. 

Writing Class

Since I am a Senior I am taking my Senior Seminar. This means I have to read and write many pages a week.  I have to admit it's harder then I thought. Sometimes writing does come so easy, and other times it's as though a spigot has been opened up. But what I found out to be the worst is the reading. Before you all go and hate me, read first. I like the class. The teacher is fun to be with and is VARY energetic. No need to drink coffee before class. Your likely to get some through her via osmoses. Her aura contains it! And I like how everyone gets a chance to read and have their stories read. I also like her way of getting us to look at published writing to see what they did write, and what they did wrong. Yet, the reading is much. We have to get through 75 pages, and some of them are just the same things over and over again. One book, The Right to Write has committed that crime more then once. The book is supposed to give any person willing to write the mental and emotional push to do so. This is a good thing. But do we need well over a hundred pages of it? How many times can we be told to write before we find the task something we no hate? How many people cleaned their rooms simply because your mother said to? Not many. You had to grow up, and find that having a clean room is better on your own. The only good tip this book gave was to write every day. This is true. The trick is, one small 15 minute spirt of writing is supposed to get you think, and soon those 15 minutes tern into 1.5 hours. That is good. But the rest I do without. The second book, Deep Revision, is a darn good one. This one gives actual suggestions on how to keep writing going, and how to make some changes if need be. It's really grammar changes, but how to make your story more interesting. The last one a collection of writings from other writers. This is hit or miss. The stories are usually short. Some are good, while others are not. It depends on the story. I don't mind reading this one. I have to admit it takes me a long time to get through this all. First, I have to force myself not to get mad and see that there IS GOOD SOMEWHERE in the "Right to Write." Second, I have to make sure not to scoff at everything Then, once I have gotten through all that I can read, which takes me a while. Because of how long this takes, I usually wait till the last moment before class, which I have to leave to go too. I'll write again soon.

Dance TEST!

The End of Dance is coming on the morrow. I might as well be typing about the end of the world. I don't dance well with instructions. If you give me music and a chance to do what I feel is fun, I dance. Is it good? No. Is it graceful? Hardly. Is it fun? You bet. Thats what I thought dance was supposed to be. FUN.  Instead it's instructions, comments, and commands. This is not to say that the teacher just yells. He is not some dancer passed his prime dancing years. He can still dance.

His movements are beautiful. Each extend of his body is a graceful and carefully planned shift of his body. I love to look at his arms as they swing to the sides in the warmup. They break away from the forward contraction and fall down in a cool, swift move, as though his arms are programed to do just that all day long. I can't help but want to do what he does. But each time I try to mimic his fluid steps I fall short, stumble, or can't get it right. But I will take his test, and I will my best, because it's ALL I can do. Sometimes we are left with only what we did. We can't sit and wait for bread to be made. We have to MAKE the bread. Wishing gets you nothing, doing gets you everything. If only I had done sooner.

On the writing front:
Still not so good, but I have to finish this. I can't let this idea die. If I do, it will be just another one of millions to never be finished. I don't want that. I want and end. Well, off to try.

Two Things: Story review and Origami.

I got down to writing the story I mentioned earlier. My classmates thought it was not that bad. Their comments made me think I had gone in the right direction. Their suggestions for fixing were little, but good. Mostly they let me know of the cliche's the found, and cut down the extra words. I walked out of class thinking it was good for my first attempt at Sci-fi. 

My teacher thought otherwise. I had gone to her for a midterm grade. She was not going to give one because she thought that grades really did not matter, as long as we wrote every day and improved our work. Now, the grade she gave me was good. The comments on my story was not. 

"Aw, how cute. They liked the food so much they want to go back" I explained my full idea and my teacher jumped on it. It was creative and good. But my piece as it stood, did not reflect that scariness. All she saw was two happy people eating well. There were not enough hints of danger along the way.  She suggested to hype of the danger, or to start the story at their third visit. I have yet to work out how to mend this.

And in effort not to think about it, I made what you see above. The letter H done in origami blocks. Neat  huh?

Crazy.

The net wet out for a little bit in the dorm tonight. My roommate stood up from her base of operations and said "WHY WON'T THE INTERNET WORK!" She continued to shout this every few minutes while I just laughed. For some reason, I never feel scared if the net is gone. For one, I always know the net will work sometime. For two, I can always get some homework done.

But I must admit, it is funny to see everyone scurry about. It is as though they cannot live without the fast paste word. Facebook is there world. But in away, it is mine too. Well, off to bed.