This Poet's Life

So, I have failed at providing updates about the MFA process. As of now, I have one more semester until my MFA's completed. Wow, it is incredible how fast time flies when you have a writer-ly existential meltdown on a daily basis. If I could give anyone any advice on how to survive in a Creative Writing MFA, it would be not to take yourself, your work, your colleagues or life in that particular moment, so seriously. I came into my program expecting to be judged by others, but that is the worst mindset to have as an artist. I was afraid to make mistakes, and in turned, made mistakes, which is the point of going of perfecting your craft. The MFA program, when done right, is an apprentice program. You attend to be around, associate with and understand writers, which will at the end of the day help you understand yourself. And the most important advice you'll receive is from those who have attended your program before you, if those people are available. I found an atmosphere of acceptance in hanging out with alumni that were still attached to the program somehow. I heeded their warnings, and in turn had to grapple with my preconceived notion of what a writer ought to do. Now, I regard craft books with mild interest and listen to what feels right in my writing at the time. I mean, if I need to become a shut in to finish a chapter then I'll do that, or if I need to travel some place to conjure up former states of mind, to make good poetry, then that's what needs to be done. It's art, not a science, it (writing) can come off stiff if it is formulaic. 

But, even after saying all that, I will say that each artist has to find their way. What works for me, might be disastrous for others. I just want to one day feel the way I feel about my favorite books, with my work, or at least write to the level that some kid in a library somewhere will regard my work as special. Still, the first reader to please is yourself. I suppose that is the ultimate goal of MFA to understand what you like and don't like about writing, and how to deal with the pitfalls in an analytic and intuitive way. 

What is said of Sublimity and Beauty

For sublime objects are vast in their dimensions, beautiful ones comparatively small; beauty should be smooth, and polished; the great rugged and negligent; beauty should shun the right line, yet deviate from it insensibly; the great in many cases love the right line, and when it deviates, it often makes a strong deviation; beauty should not be obscure; the great ought to be dark and gloomy; beauty should not be obscure; the great ought to be dark and gloomy; beauty should be light and delicate; the great ought to be solid, and even even massive.

The previous quote is from Edmund Burke's From A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful.

Sublime:
 lofty, grand, or exalted in thought, expression, or manner or, of outstanding spiritual, intellectual, or moral worth or, tending to inspire awe usually because of elevated quality (as of beauty, nobility, or grandeur) or transcendentexcellence. "Sublime." Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, n.d. Web. 9 Jan. 2015. <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sublime>

Beauty:
 the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit 

I apologize for not posting last week. This week has been full of life changing events and epiphanies. First, I lost my first cousin, Kelsey, this Sunday to a heart attack. He was only thirty one years old. Initially, I refrained from broadcasting this information across my blog for numerous reasons and personal convictions. I have come to believe that there are some moments of one's life that need to be private, or private until the circumstances are fully understood. Deaths, personal failures and illness, I, firmly, believe doesn't need to be placed on display. Further, I have come to value the introspection that these type of events have on a person. Moreover, for creative folks, like myself, the act of retreating into your memories and/or feelings allows for further clarity. Additionally, I believe the retreat, is sacred as the art of dying, itself. However, I have come to the realization that as blogger, my personal experience will color: my writings, my posts via my moods.

My cousin was more than a cousin to me; in fact, I considered him to be my big brother, at least unconsciously. I am my mother's only child and my father's youngest, but my half siblings are at least ten years older than me, and were often, spread over wide distances as I grew up. So, the only siblings I 've known my entire life, have been my first cousins, especially first cousins of my parent's closest siblings. So, in effect, I never really experience a true only child childhood. Nevertheless, most of my childhood was split between Southern California and Texas, and when I was in Texas, I spent most my time with my Aunt Gloria's youngest children, Brittany and Kelsey. My cousin Brittany is younger than me by a year and my cousin Kelsey was older than me by four years. So, as Brittany and me grew up, both of us, grew around Kelsey, who was often a referee during scrabbles, and annoyed with us as we spied on him, just a plain nuances as he became a young man.

I am opinionated about a lot of things. If you were to ask me about philosophy, religion, politics, literature, etc, I would give you my opinion, which I hope was well inform and profound. Yet, on the matter of grief, loss and death, I don't believe I have firm opinion. As I age, I have come to realize one thing about the topic of death; it is different with each case, with each person and different moments in your life. As a child, I went to too many funerals to be healthy. As an adolescent, I was firmly committed to the my atheistic stands on life and death, I had caulked up the death, as gone and unimportant to my oblivious self-centered stance on life. But, this all changed as I became a young adult. I became increasingly aware of my own morality, as I lost people whom I'd never thought I would see in a casket, for instance, I lost my cousin, Jillian to cancer, he was eighteen, but before that, I lost my older fun loving cousin Donshae to an aneurysm, then I lost my oldest aunt, Imogene. Yet, the worst blow came when I lost my mentor, best friend and mother figure, my beloved Tia, Estrella Garcia in 2013, who was more like a mother to me, than my own mother.

It was with my Tia's death, that I lost my footing in reality. I had always put off her death as a event in the future when she was old and grey and I was more mature to handle it. But, that is not the reality of life. People whom you never thought you would see in casket, or on a obituary or in the cold ground, do eventually, end up in a casket,or, in an urn, or returned to the clay, in which we were said to be created from. As the old adage goes, Everyone you know will die, and this includes you too. I think we contemplated our own death's in intervals throughout our lives, but this is more of a side note to what it is I am trying to say: I didn't expect to hear of my dear cousin's death, this soon. I was expecting Kelsey to age, into the unpredictable old sage, who would tell you stories of his outlandish youth. I was expecting to grow old with him. And as I, scrolled down my timeline, in shock, come to realize this will never happen, now. He belongs to time. My unique cousin, perhaps one of my favorite cousins, is gone, forever. I will not get into my current beliefs on the afterlife, in the end, our beliefs on what happens after we die, is of little relevance to our grief in the here and now.Yet, for clarity, I am a believer.

But, believing in an afterlife, doesn't necessarily,take away the pain.You still have to gone on with your life, until your time is up which could take decades, living without the people, you've lost. And even though you will meet new people along the way, none of the potential people you will meet, will ever truly fill in the void, that has been left by your dearly departed.

Now, that I have said my convoluted piece about my dear cousin,my stance on grief and my belief in the afterlife, I will talk about a second grief, I have experience this week, the grief of security, as I watched the unfolding of the Paris Massacre at Charlie Hebdo.

There has been a growing sentiment, lately, among writers in the U.S., maybe around the world. With the passing of more intrusive bills, that were championed on the platform of offering the Western world more protection, in exchange for increasing censorship or surveillance. I don't need to name the bills nor will I go into too much details in this post. Nevertheless, champions of free speech, the writers, the cartoonists, the political commentators, just anyone with an opinion contary to their government, started to think twice about writing, drawing or speaking their minds, for it might bring unfortunate consequences. Yet, with the events that unfolded at the Charlie Heodo as well, with the Sony Hacking scandal, we, the west, realize that we have entered a new era, one of fear. Fear that if you write something that is off color to someone, we could be murdered, fear of the public who might be interested in hearing satire of world leaders, regimes or groups, that are expressing their innate right, could, possibly, lead to their harm. And, even as I watched with awe, the defiant nature of the French people who refused to be silent, I still know that, even, their defiance would be tempered by the events that unfolded during a frantic, day in a cloudy Paris.

Nevertheless, life is, rarely, completely bitter, more bittersweet. As I experienced paradigm shifts, and personal loss, I did experience some good such as: registering for my first semester as MFA student, feeling hopeful about my future, my growth as a writer and the possibilities that await me. I have  become more reinvigorated about my life in ways, I couldn't possible articulate. These experience, are the fruity, sweetness after the first note of bitterness one experience in the finest piece of chocolate. For life, even with its horrors, is profoundly beautiful. Existence is beautiful. Small victories, are more than beautiful, are sublime.

An Ecstatic Hamlet, a Green Maiden and the Donning of Fennel in the Danish Court

The following post is incomplete, due to the fact, I've  recently lost my college flash drive during my move to California. Nevertheless, I know this is a change from my other post on this blog; however, I feel this piece adds a needed element to my other writings  that are posted on the blog. Enjoy! 

Hamlet by William Shakespeare, is a story of revenge, betrayal and deception that takes place in a Danish court of King Hamlet who dies suddenly and is replaced by his brother Claudius, who then marries Gertrude, the king’s widow. The tale centers on the reaction of King Hamlet and Queen Gertrude’s son, Hamlet. The grieving young prince who is repulsed by his mother perceived incestuous marriage to his uncle and is further distraught when he discovers through the revelation of his father’s Ghost, that his father was assassinated by his uncle. The duration of the play is the account of deception between a guilty, murderous uncle and a grief stricken, cunning son who is seeks revenge for slain father. 

In the analysis of the play, this paper will employ the theories of Simon de Beauvoir with the school of Feminism, Karl Marx and Marxist theory, Plato and Platonic views on madness and lastly, the psychoanalytic theories of Sigmund Freud. The uses of these theories and the views of the theorist associated with them, will help give analysis to ecstasy or madness of Hamlet, the misogynistic treatment of the women of Hamlet, particularly of the green maiden, Ophelia and lastly rampant moral corruption and deceit that lies in the Danish court donning of symbolic Fennel. 

Throughout Hamlet, the protagonist Hamlet is portrayed as being in a state of insanity or madness; however, contrary to the belief of those around him, Hamlet appears very insane. In fact, one could argue that Hamlet has created a ruse of madness to disguise his true attentions of exacting revenge against his uncle Claudius. In the play, Hamlet states to Guildenstern in act two, “I am not but mad north-north west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw” (2.2.403).  Here Hamlet clarifies that he is sane even if his behavior appears to be insane and with the expression, “mad north-north west,” and “I know a hawk from a handsaw,” he is declaring that if he is mad it is at certain times. In addition, Hamlet offers up a proverb with the “hawk and handsaw,” which is meant to illustrate he has the ability to discern the difference between objects that are false and ones that are true (Shakespeare 106). 

Likewise, Hamlet’s alleged insanity could be inferred as a sense of awareness of deception and corruption around him, after he received revelation of his father’s betrayal from his father’s ghost. In Plato’s Republic, the in-historic Socrates explains that once an individual is exposed to knowledge or light, then he will appear different or even strange to individuals who are still in the dark or simply ignorant. The in-historic Socrates states:

Imagine someone returning to the human world and all its misery after contemplating the divine realm. Do you think it’s surprising if he seems awkward and ridiculous while he’s still not seeing well, before he’s had time to adjust to the darkness of his situation (Plato 63)? 

Therefore, Hamlet’s madness through the Platonic lens is interpreted as insight into the true nature of his court and of his king. For example, when Hamlet encounters the ghost of his father and learns of his betrayal and assignation by the hands of Claudius, and of Claudius seduction of his mother. Here, he is brought into the light of the nature of his court and true character of his uncle. After Hamlet learns of his father’s murder, he states:

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! 

My tables – meet it is I set it down

That one may smile and smile and be a villain. 

At least I am sure it may be so in Denmark. 

So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word 

It is “adieu, adieu, remember me.”

I have sworn it. (1.5. 113-17).

In this passage, Hamlet express his revulsion with both his mother and his uncles, but more importantly, he reveals that revenge against his uncle is now his mission with the phrase, “I have sworn it.” By Hamlet, learning of the treacherous way in which his father died, he is freed from the ignorance of the lies of Claudius, and is now knowledgeable to the levels his uncle will take to have power. 

In Hamlet, the women characters are frequently victimized, viewed with contempt and bounded to gross double standards by either male relatives or their lovers. Further, the treatment of the women of Hamlet allows for Feminist criticism, especially in understanding the gender dynamics in the relationships of Ophelia and her father, Polonius, in that of Ophelia and her lover, Hamlet and lastly, in the bizarre subtleties of Hamlet and Queen Gertrude’s relationship.

In the play, Polonius, a favorite of King Claudius, scolds his daughter Ophelia after he learns through court gossip, that Hamlet and her are having a sexual relationship. He states, “Affection, Puh! You speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his “tenders,” as you call them” (1.3.110-13)? In “Second Sex,” Simone De Beauvoir offers an explanation of the double standards in which the women of Hamlet are judged. In her treatise, she states that womanhood is shrouded in myths, and that these myths perpetuate the separation of humanity into two classes (De Beauvoir 1265). The purpose of mystifying women is to avoid authentic understanding of women as human with the same qualities and flaws of men. Further, the myths help perpetuate misogyny because it limits the roles that women can fulfill in society, mainly a woman is either a whore or saint.  She states:

De Beauvoir is on the right.

As group symbols and social types are generally defined by means of antonyms in pairs, ambivalence will seem to be an intrinsic quality of the Eternal Feminine. The Saintly mother has for correlative the cruel stepmother, the angelic young girl has the perverse virgin: thus it will be said sometimes that Mother equals Life, sometimes that Mother equals Death, that every virgin is pure spirit or flesh dedicated to the devil (De Beauvoir 1266). 

This dichotomy of womanhood permeates all of Hamlet. Furthermore, Hamlet is the main perpetuator of this misogynistic altitudes towards Ophelia, but more importantly, his mother. 

For instance, when Hamlet comes back from his encounter with his father’s ghost, he is suspicious of everyone in his court and of their actions, this is apparent in his ill-treatment of Ophelia, when she attempts to return love letters written to her by Hamlet, back to him. Hamlet either in attempts to further his reputation of madness or in his displeasure of Polonius trying to manipulate the prince via his daughter, launches into a tirade against Ophelia, that essential portrays her as a whore. Hamlet states:

I have heard of your paintings {too} well enough.

God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves

Another. You jig and amble, and you (lisp ;) You nickname 

God’s creatures and make your wantonness {your} ignorance. 

Go to, I’ll no more on’t. It hath made me mad. 

(3.1. 154-9).

Anxiety in B Flat

Wonder what the Tramp was thinking?

I am filled with fear, more than anything, at this time. I have been manic in my approach to getting caught up on things like sentence structures and proper comma usage. And once again, I find myself maundering on Wikipedia, leering over webpages that belong to the greats such as: Steinback, Wallace and Nin. Nevertheless, I still can’t tackle my incomprehensible plot to my novel which part of me believe, I should throw away. There it is. I said it. I think I am working with a really, really bad engine, and my attempt to figure out its kinks, is futile. What a worthless feeling to have, of your first attempt at novel writing, but I don’t know what else to feel. I am wrecking my brain trying to revise a story, a tale that hasn’t been told. But, it has, numerous times, by the generations before me. The moment I think, “Aha, I have it!,” then I realize that I don’t. 

Maybe, I am not really convinced that my novel is utter, complete trash. Maybe, I am internalizing something else, perhaps, my fear of failure as a writer. Maybe, I am just scared of sitting in my first workshop as a graduate student, and being lampooned by my peers, and worst yet, my professor. I also feel that fears are further compounded by my recent layoff, my inability to find a meaningful job after graduating and my recent setbacks in achieving financial independence as well as my dire living situation. These things way heavy upon me and my psyche daily. My personal obstacles, color my dreams in various shades of gray. 

To be honest, I don’t know how I got into any MFA program, and I don’t know how I will survive in the one, I have admitted to. So, I have been searching and surfing MFA blogs, post-MFA blogs and writers personal blogs. I guess I am trying to interpret what I should be feeling at this moment, as oppose to the dread that is growing in my chest, as the days draw closer and closer to my first workshop. 

Is this the part, where I am supposed to just rely on faith? I am just supposed to take the plunge into the abyss? How can I? I am a product of the linear thinking when it comes to higher education. I was told if you receive your degree that life was sorta of easy sailing from there on out. Well, we all know that’s a bunch pre-2008 nonsense! Yet, some part of me is wondering if solely pursuing your dreams is cliche? 

But, I’ve made my bed. 

It’s bumpy, filled with crumbs and has a slight odor to it, but it’s mine. And because it is mine, I hold it dear. 

So, I guess, I am committed to seeing this out to its end. Despite, the anxiety it may cause, or the further pelts to my already damaged ego. Now, the story of my twenties will be tale of various blind jumps, swan dives and praying for a magical net or Manus Dei.

Franken-novel's revenege two: The plot that wouldn't die.

So, it's a new year, and my novel, the novel from Hades, is still messed up. I have, as of late, changed my antangonist's nationality, thrown out my original plot and changed the point of view of my protangonist from a female to a male.

And I am still lost about how to fix my story which I still love very much. So, I've recently purchased Plot Perfect by Paula Munier, in an attempt to steamline my novel's outline, add more depth to my characters and to get motivation to write some killer scences.

Nevertheless, I will continue to post updates about the book and maybe, I will give this book a review later on.

Belle and Sebastian - The boy with the arab strap - Live @ Alcatraz, Mi...

I wanted to share some good jams that take me back with you guys. Enjoy!

The List

1. Develop a more solid understanding of English grammar to outwit potential dates.
2. Write more, like a lot more.
3. Start running. (This is the only weight or health oriented goals on the list.)
4. Read more and watch Netflix less.
5. Move to LA.
6. Save 2,000 by the end of the year.
7. Go to therapy and work out emotional baggage.
8. Learn how to network with fellow writers (Just make more friends who happen to write and/or can get you into some sort of publication).
9. Buy your own copy of Writer's Market and stop utilizing the public library's copy.
10. No online dating, for at least a year(because you've never actually met a boyfriend via OKC, Tinder or Facebook).
11. Start smiling more and reject Rested Bitch Face syndrome.
12. Spend more time with Granny.
13. Join a gym and stick to it for at least a year.(So, I lied I have two health and/or weight related goals.)
14. Attempt to learn something new, such as: Spanish or Playing the guitar...
15. Stop looking up ex-boyfriends via google(Yep!).
16. Submit to jobs, you're really not qualify for(You'll never know).
17. Try to tackle Middlemarch.
18. Visit either Las Vegas or San Franscisco.
19. Buy more clothes and let go of the excuse that you'll do it once you've lost weight.
20. Be happier this year than you were in 2014.