build me a boat
Just got back from my school's Vagina Monologues production. If you haven't seen it yet, get yourself to the nearest production before the week is up.
And I've been thinking today, about things. About being a stubborn brat. About making mistakes. About pregnancy, about violence against women. I have been thinking about...
...people who quote songs in LiveJournal. It's usually some whiney shit that I hate, but not always. Sometimes it's done well, but I can't think of any examples. I used to quote songs in my blog, and then I realized that I don't like it when other people quote songs in their blogs (except short ones, I can do short songs). There's no guarantee that your friends have the same taste in music as you do. I can tell you right now that I hate most of what's played on the radio... but not everything. Fun songs, irreverent songs, I like them. And then there are the classics that you've listened to since you don't know when, those can be good. They can be bad, but they can be good.
I take issue with all-male bands that use rape as a metaphor. "Rape my brain," "rape me," whatever. Shut the fuck up. When somebody beats you and does you up the ass with a screwdriver, then you can talk, motherfucker.
A lot of this has to do with poetry. Bad lyrics make bad poetry and vice versa. And I can't stand bad poetry. I get a little frustrated in my poetry class because so many people say, "Wow, this is deep," when really it's just CRAP. I feel like I'm not improving, like we're not talking about the process of poetry, just the result of it.
There was this one poem... I can't really talk about it, but it chilled me. I don't think the writer understood the ramifications of that kind of thinking. How terrible, the way we turn victims into saints. Implying that somehow she was so good that she just had to die. We can't excuse this. I don't have a solution, but that's what academia is for. To try to come up with one.
I wrote about inspired by a woman who died recently. Her story was in the New York Times. It received an A-. My instructor said it was a great poem but she wanted it to sound like it was written specifically for that woman. I like my instructor but I don't like those rules at all and I refuse to play by them. The poem was me trying to get into the head of a person I didn't know and reason about how she felt. It was using fiction to arrive at a greater truth, but it has to remain anonymous. The thing I like about this poem is that it is talking about a generation of women who got out of college and expected there to be a place in society for educated women. And there wasn't. But who am I to say that Wendy Wasserstein felt specifically like the woman I am talking about in the poem? I created a character out what I knew about her from the news article and what I know about The Feminine Mystique from US History. To attach her name to it would be a lie.
I think that if you started asking people about saving the world, you would find a lot more people than you expected who want to try, who are looking for ways.
And I've been thinking today, about things. About being a stubborn brat. About making mistakes. About pregnancy, about violence against women. I have been thinking about...
...people who quote songs in LiveJournal. It's usually some whiney shit that I hate, but not always. Sometimes it's done well, but I can't think of any examples. I used to quote songs in my blog, and then I realized that I don't like it when other people quote songs in their blogs (except short ones, I can do short songs). There's no guarantee that your friends have the same taste in music as you do. I can tell you right now that I hate most of what's played on the radio... but not everything. Fun songs, irreverent songs, I like them. And then there are the classics that you've listened to since you don't know when, those can be good. They can be bad, but they can be good.
I take issue with all-male bands that use rape as a metaphor. "Rape my brain," "rape me," whatever. Shut the fuck up. When somebody beats you and does you up the ass with a screwdriver, then you can talk, motherfucker.
A lot of this has to do with poetry. Bad lyrics make bad poetry and vice versa. And I can't stand bad poetry. I get a little frustrated in my poetry class because so many people say, "Wow, this is deep," when really it's just CRAP. I feel like I'm not improving, like we're not talking about the process of poetry, just the result of it.
There was this one poem... I can't really talk about it, but it chilled me. I don't think the writer understood the ramifications of that kind of thinking. How terrible, the way we turn victims into saints. Implying that somehow she was so good that she just had to die. We can't excuse this. I don't have a solution, but that's what academia is for. To try to come up with one.
I wrote about inspired by a woman who died recently. Her story was in the New York Times. It received an A-. My instructor said it was a great poem but she wanted it to sound like it was written specifically for that woman. I like my instructor but I don't like those rules at all and I refuse to play by them. The poem was me trying to get into the head of a person I didn't know and reason about how she felt. It was using fiction to arrive at a greater truth, but it has to remain anonymous. The thing I like about this poem is that it is talking about a generation of women who got out of college and expected there to be a place in society for educated women. And there wasn't. But who am I to say that Wendy Wasserstein felt specifically like the woman I am talking about in the poem? I created a character out what I knew about her from the news article and what I know about The Feminine Mystique from US History. To attach her name to it would be a lie.
I think that if you started asking people about saving the world, you would find a lot more people than you expected who want to try, who are looking for ways.