Monday, November 25, 2013

A moment to pause...

Walking around campus on my lunch hour is nice.  It's particularly nice when the students are on break for the week, and it's nice and quiet.  In a city, that's something rare to find: quiet.  But Thanksgiving Break is a wonderful time to be out and about, even if it's rather unseasonably cold this year.

As I wandered, I saw a statue that is, after some 50 years or so, getting repaired.  Yes, for those who have seen it, know to avoid "the circle," etc, The statue that was labeled by me and my cronies as we went through the university here as "Scary Jesus" is getting repaired, and eventually, moved to a new location.  For those who've not seen Scary Jesus - this is a very modern take on the Crucified Christ erected in the 1960's.  Like any art, it is an interpretation, nothing more.  And, it was the 60s, so.....it looks a little misshapen when you're close to it.  From a distance, it looks pretty decent.  Standing next to it, yeah, it's pretty scary-looking.  The problem is that the wooden cross to which the bronze figure is attached is rotting, and both for safety and preservation, it needs to be repaired.

But, as a quick "stop-gap" and safety measure, the figure has been ratchet-strapped to the cross.  I rounded the corner of a building and was looking straight at it.  It was, in a word, humbling.  No, that sculpture itself isn't what caught me off-guard.  I've seen it these past 18 years, and so I was expecting to see it.  But the thought occurred to me how, in this festive time, when we are to be thankful for friends and family, and as we embark on another season of Advent for the Christian communities of this world, how we tend to lose the meaning of the season.  How we bind Christ to that cross, by wrapping presents, by trimming trees, by enjoying the excesses of our world, and forgetting the meaning of the season.

Now, I am not suggesting that those of you out there who are against formal and organized religion must "believe."  Far from it.  But, I have seen many people complaining how stores are opting to stay open on Thanksgiving.  There are many memes, chain letters, calls for boycotts, etc - all saying what a shame it is that people will be made to work on Thanksgiving, all because the greed of corporate America simply does not care about families, about togetherness, about the Brotherhood of Man.  And when I saw that figure, strapped tightly to that cross, all I could think of is how we, too, are binding that spirit of giving tighter and tighter.

Before anyone gets the idea that this is going to be me going off on a rant about how Christianity is being stifled, let's pause.  Every country, every religion, every tribe, every culture - indeed, every person - has their heroes.  These are men and women who have contributed something of such great worth  that they deserve to be remembered.  They come from many walks of life - some were religious figures, others were military folk, some were politicians, and some were men and women of science.  The facts are, they've come from all walks of life, but they all did something great:  They gave of themselves.  Some gave so they could receive, and some just gave because they felt it was right.  It doesn't matter - they simply GAVE.  Many gave themselves to a cause, completely, and to their deaths.  It is this spirit of giving that makes them worthy of remembrance.

While it may seem a trite notion, and more like me justifying a self-righteous attitude, I can't help but stop and think, "What do I give, and from where do I give it?"  Does it come from the heart, or from a checkbook, or a store?  Do I give because it's right, or because someone expects me to do it?  Do I try and give "things" or do I try and give of myself?  These are questions I must answer, and I'm not sure I always want the honest answers.  I think, perhaps, the more important question - for me, at least - is in my giving, no matter how I choose to do it, am I practicing that same spirit of giving that so many have lived for, and perhaps died for?  Or, am I taking that spirit of giving and binding it up tightly?

That's a heck of a thought for a Monday.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid

Thursday, November 14, 2013

The Blocke

Ahh, the Blocke.  I'm writing about the blocke for several reasons: First, the Blocke is the world's most horrible thing to experience.  It's not that there's anything wrong, or that it's physically painful or anything like that.  Far from it.  The Blocke is really just nothing.  And it's a horrible nothingness.  Second, I'm a little bit inspired by my friend Kim - whose blog can be found here http://www.chicagonow.com/listing-toward-forty/2013/11/40-really-awful-writing-prompts/ - and her thoughts on writing prompts.  Third, I am always frustrated by writing prompts whenever I come across them.  So, I am now writing about The Blocke.

Oh yes, I know that Writer's Block is not spelled with the extra "e' on the end.  Even the British wouldn't do something as trivial as that, and I'm pretty sure that they invented the extra "e" on the end of things, just to make English a harder language to understand.  No, no - I put the "e" on the end because I want to, because it makes me smile, and because I often type the letter "e" on the end of a whole bunch of words, only to realize that it never belongs there, looks stupid, and makes anything I type look like a a teacher told her third-grade class to re-type a book of Kantian ethics from memory, and then went and corrected everything in red pen.

But, The Blocke is a terrible thing.  Imagine, if you will, that you are good at something.  No - I mean REALLY good at it.  Not just "better than average," or "passable," I mean so good at something that you really cannot imagine that it would not be a part of your daily life.  Yeah, you're THAT good at it - and on top of that, you're THRILLED by the concept that this thing would be in your life all the time.  It can be anything at all, from playing sports to brushing your teeth (although that's just a bit scary).  And then, one day, you are ready to do your favorite thing, only to discover that you have NO IDEA how to do it.  That is The Blocke.  Only, it's not that you don't remember how-you just....can't, and the harder you try, the harder it is.  Not only that, but you KNOW you're good at it, and you KNOW you love it.  You also KNOW that right now, it's the most horribly nasty thing that can happen to you and no matter what you do it's not going to be helping a damned thing so you might as well just write any old thing that pops into your head and who cares it's a run-on sentence that sounds more like the drivel spouted by a teen-aged girl who is breaking up with her boyfriend for the seventeenth time this week.  Yeah, it's also that annoying.

But my friend wrote a very interesting little list of all the things to NOT write about when you are in The Blocke, including writing about The Blocke.  Why does she say this?  Because, the world at large does not care about anyone who is experiencing The Blocke, nor is it interested in hearing about your particular struggles with it, etc - because it's also a very, very personal thing, and let's face it - the public in general has no interest in hearing about the writer's personal problems.  No, the world wants to be entertained, and that is a writer's job.  Whether you're writing for a news source, or a personal blog, or Saturday Night Live, the object is to make it just entertaining enough to get people to continue to read while still be informative....or just plain making them spit their coffee all over their computer screen.

And to get through The Blocke, we have writing prompts.  These are nothing more than ideas to try and get the creative juices of writing moving again.  And I hate them.  Oh, it's not that they're bad, or wrong, or anything at all - I just find them annoying, and I've finally come to the conclusion of WHY I find them so annoying:  They all have to do with "I," because they all seem to start with getting in touch with the inner self:  "Write about your worst day at school," "Write about a time when someone you love did something nice for you," or "You're walking down the street and happen upon a package containing $1,000.  What do you do?"  Really????  Are they serious?  There are lists of these things, and people who get paid to come up with these lists...all for what?  To help writers get over something that cannot be specifically defined or understood?  I mean, what is this, the dark ages?  Why don't we just pull the leeches out of retirement for medicine, or start treating people for "vapors" again?  This is preposterous.

I'm not going to claim that I have the missing answer, one-size-fits-all magical snake oil that can "cure" The Blocke - that's silly.  The problem is that every writer is different.  Some may go bowling.  Some may drink like a fish, since it worked for Hemingway.  Some might listen to music - there are as many ways to get through The Blocke as there are writers who are busy doing it.  I've experienced The Blocke many times before, and the only thing that I know works for me is busying my mind with things that do not involve writing, and putting myself in places where I feel inspired.  Because nobody cares about what you would do with that $1,000, anyway - least of all, you.  You're busy living in The Blocke.