Musings on life and Melville's Bartleby

What to do? What to do?

Lately, in my life, I have been caught between the things I want to do and the things I need to do. I have been thinking in a very Melville-esque way. To explain this, one would need to know that I have been reading Herman Melville's novella "Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street" in my English class. This text has, in a way, gotten under my skin and engraved itself there. So a correction, or a better way of stating the first sentence would be to say that I have been thinking in a very Bartleby-esque way.

For those who do not know the story of "Bartleby, the Scrivener" I highly suggest you run, don't walk to your nearest bookstore and pick up a copy. The text is short but full of all sorts of imagery, a few paradoxes, and a lot of subtleties and ambiguities.

The title character, Bartleby, is often asked to do things by the narrator. These things may be work (to go over his copy), to leave the office, to divulge information about himself and his life prior to meeting the narrator. His response is always "I would prefer not to."  The line is always said calmly without any hesitation or trepidation. I find it very interesting that he can say the line that way, without even worrying what the reaction might be.

I would say that I find it notable that he can refuse to do things so calmly. But the line "I would prefer not to" raises many questions. One of them being it's intention and meaning. Is it really a refusal?  Does "I would prefer not to" mean that he would not do the work at all, just that he'd prefer to do something else?

In some ways, I think I am becoming like Bartleby. I do work. But there are many things I'd prefer not to do. I'd prefer not to do math, I'd prefer not to have class at 8:30 in the morning (but I go partially because it's a required class and I adore the professor). I'd prefer not to need glasses for reading. There are so many things I'd prefer not to do. So, does that make me a Bartleby? Or does Bartleby belong in a different category altogether?

Is preferring not to do something as unproductive as not doing it at all?

An Open Letter to Alan Rickman

Those of you who know me personally know that I love Alan Rickman. I think he is a fantastic actor who is truly versatile and is just....amazing. Here is an open letter to him for you all to read. A couple months ago it was brought to my attention that people on the Twilight imdb message boards were hoping that Alan Rickman would play a vampire in the film. There were "rumors" that he was being offered a part. I sincerely hope that he was not offered a part in the film. It is not that I want him to be out of work, it is that Twilight is, simply put, bad.

As a big fan of Mr. Rickman's I feel inclined to see almost every film that he is ever in. If he were in Twilight, I would have to break that obligation, or at least try to. It would be very difficult. I would be torn. So, THANK GOD, Alan Rickman is not playing a sparkly Vampire.

Dear Mr. Rickman,

Thank you so much for not starring in any Twilight movies. I love you even more for that. That is all.

Sincerely,
Heather

Zombies.

I'm not sure if many of you have heard of the game humans vs. zombies, but I'm pretty damn sure you've heard of it in passing. Especially if you live on a college campus or if you go to Goucher.

Humans vs. zombies is, basically, a modified game of tag. One person starts out as the main zombie. When the main zombie tags someone, that person (originally a "human") then becomes a zombie and joins his or her zombie friend in the quest to eat the brains of all the humans. Sound yummy? Well, maybe in a metaphorical sense at least.

Humans can protect themselves against the zombies by using nerf guns or throwing socks at the zombies.

It's all in good fun.

If you have not played the game (like I have not) it can be very interesting to watch. I might play next semester. We shall see.

Deepest Fear

Even though I have not updated this blog in a while, I am still writing. I sent two poems out to a literary magazine yesterday. In three to six months I will get a response. I want them to say yes. If they do, I will scream. I will be so happy. I have been trying to publish my poetry for three years.

Now, onto a more serious matter. Sometimes I have this recurring dream where I have a story to tell, but I can't. I literally can't pick up a pen and write down whatever it is that is on my mind. Sometimes, my hands are paralyzed or I have no hands. I worry when I have these dreams. If I cannot write, what will become of me? Writing is one of the only things I know how to do so well. Everything else is mediocre. Without writing, I am mediocre. Sure, I am getting better at acting. I am sure that I would find a way to write without hands, I would get a voice activated thing for Microsoft word. I saw that in a movie once. But what do I know about how I would handle a hypothetical situation? I won't know anything until I find myself in that situation. And I hope I never have to experience that.

That dream is my darkest, deepest fear. I fear who I will be without writing. Writing is how I express myself. If I cannot do that, will I explode? Will emotions build up inside of me until they just can't take it anymore?

I fear who I will be if I cannot write.

Writer's block, please don't kill me

Writer's block, please don't kill me

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Berlin

If one were to call one city a chameleon, that city would have to be the great, and often tragic city of Berlin, Germany.  At one point the city was the center of the Nazi regime, then at another time the city was literally divided into two, somewhat unceremoniously and awkwardly.  Imagine if you lived among the citizens of communist East Berlin and found that one day that you could no longer visit your boyfriend, girlfriend, father, mother, sister, brother, friend or cousin.  Families and loved ones were separated by the wall.

I have literally met people, en route to different locations in europe and the world.  Upon mentioning that I am traveling to Berlin, many mention that they have not been to Germany since it was divided.  It is interesting to think that there are people who only know one side of the city I am learning to love, and may one day want to live in for a brief period of time. There are those who only think of Hitler and the Nazis when they think of Germany and there are those whose thoughts unconsciously drift to communism.

In many ways, it is important to distinguish between East Berlin and West Berlin. Yet in my opinion, one must not paint the two parts of Berlin in black and white, or "capitalism" and "communism."  Where there is knowledge of sin and how to sin, there will be corruption.  That said, East Berlin was full of corruption. Sure, the West had it's share of corruption and misdemeanors.

Perhaps my favorite part about the Berlin wall is the contrast, through art.  On the western side one saw graffiti and all sorts of colors adorning the wall.  The Eastern side, however, depicted a much more somber setting, very drab and discomforting. I do not mark one side as good or bad, yet I do believe that one should not have to fear their government and the East German police brought fear into the hearts and minds of East German citizens and the Stasi (the secret police) often coaxed and often forced citizens into becoming informants which tore families apart.

That is my two cents for tonight. :)

The Art of Writing

For the past five to seven years of my life, probably more (I've lost count) I have wanted to be a writer.  Over the course of these years I have found myself wondering how one becomes a writer. Of course, they write. They sit at a desk, or on their bed, wherever they feel most comfortable and they write. Some writers work better on the computer while others prefer to write longhand. I, for one, am a mixture of the two.

Yet, how does one truly become a writer? For, surely not everyone who writes is a writer. If one does not feel moved, sometimes to tears, by the power of the stories entrusted to them, in my opinion they are not writers. Any fool can sit down and write. Only a true artist manipulates words, weaving them so that real characters and real emotionas surface onto the page.  Does Stephanie Meyer do this? Don't make me laugh. "Edward is dreamy" and "Edward is sexy" does not count as good writing.

Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Leo Tolstoy, J.K Rowling, Ray Bradbury. These are good, if not great, writers.  When I first read Jane Austen, I wanted to share it with my friends. The pure beauty of the words on the page captivated me. There are few authors who can achieve such power, such emotional intensity in a reader's response.

Writing is a craft that gets better through time and practice. I cannot say that I have always been a great writer. However, I can say that I have always had passion.