idea?

Finally, what I think to be a good idea has found a way to my mind. Exploring this idea is the fun part, mapping it out, trying different directions to get to the end point and understanding what route would make the end point the most satisfying. What route would have the biggest pay off in the end? I toy with this idea, I bend it, I manipulate it to be what I want it to be. The idea came on Thanksgiving. Driving back from my parents’ house around 7or 8ish, I see a bus on the overpass from below the freeway. Buses run on Thanksgiving? Who would be riding the bus on this day? That’s the visual that triggered my imagination. Something about it intrigued me. I’ve already started writing it, but I keep changing directions, trying to find a better route. I love the idea, I think about it a lot. I think how amazing it is and how amazing it could be. I think about how perfectly imperfect the characters are and how relatable and universal they are. Then I question whether they seem contrived. Then I question the plot, and thus the cycle ensues. I always start off with an idea I love, I get really excited and write about it, then I over-analyze everything and start to not like the idea, and then I have to re convince myself that it is a brilliant idea and that the characters are worth writing. What a process. I love writing, I love imagining, and sometimes I just like the feeling of running a ball-point pen across a piece of paper, the smoothness, the control, the possibilities….

Dec. 22, 2008

Finally, what I think to be a good idea has found a way to my mind. Exploring this idea is the fun part, mapping it out, trying different directions to get to the end point and understanding what route would make the end point the most satisfying. What route would have the biggest pay off in the end? I toy with this idea, I bend it, I manipulate it to be what I want it to be. The idea came on Thanksgiving. Driving back from my parents’ house around 7or 8ish, I see a bus on the overpass from below the freeway. Buses run on Thanksgiving? Who would be riding the bus on this day? That’s the visual that triggered my imagination. Something about it intrigued me. I’ve already started writing it, but I keep changing directions, trying to find a better route. I love the idea, I think about it a lot. I think how amazing it is and how amazing it could be. I think about how perfectly imperfect the characters are and how relatable and universal they are. Then I question whether they seem contrived. Then I question the plot, and thus the cycle ensues. I always start off with an idea I love, I get really excited and write about it, then I over-analyze everything and start to not like the idea, and then I have to re convince myself that it is a brilliant idea and that the characters are worth writing. What a process. I love writing, I love imagining, and sometimes I just like the feeling of running a ball-point pen across a piece of paper, the smoothness, the control, the possibilities….

Some sermons are better than others

I know that not living at home anymore is the reason why I do not attend Sunday church service on a consistent basis. Well, this weekend I decided to go home to start and finish a final paper. At home, I am away from the distractions of my roomates, parties, happy hours, etc. that so easily deter me from my work. However, when I am home, I am expected to go to church which I did today. Some sermons are just better than other sermons. It's only been four hours since I've gotten home from church and I have already forgotten the sermon (in retrospect, it is quite ironic that I would forget because the pastor taught us the greek word for remember, which I also forgot). Okay, so I am guilty of not listening to the sermon, but that is only because the pastor's words stimulated a different direction in thought. The word "Christian" is not used as an adjective in the bible but is used as a noun, however in today's world the word "Christian" is used as a noun modifer (a.k.a. adjective). For example; there is "Christian" music, "Christian" books, "Christian" mints, "Christian" water and the list goes on. This is where the pastor lost me to my own thoughts. Do you see what is happening here? Isn't it ugly? By using "Christian" in the context of an adjective it gets transformed into a commodity. This is the danger of religion when living in a Capitalist society where everything is for sell. I see some churches selling their own brand of Christianity to innocent people who know no better. Why do these people know no better? Their only experience is with Capitalism, the only relationship they know is one of buying and selling, and this is why the concept of a salvation that is free is so perplexing and confusing for them. Is anything really "free" these days? The answer is YES, but you have to believe.

Coffee with a friend

Today I went to a cafe to study with a friend. While there, she was telling me that she was having very funny flashbacks from the night before. I asked her what point of view her flashbacks were in and she told me that they were in a cinematic point of view (third person), as in she was watching her actions. I found this interesting and started to think about memories. As we go about our daily routines, we all have a first person perspective of looking out and seeing our surroundings, but it seems to me that when people remember things it is always in a cinematic way. We watch our memories as if they were a movie, and we see ourselves running or laughing or dancing, but we see ourselves in our memory. This made me think about the way our memories are constructed. Do we consruct our memories in this manner because we have all been exposed to film? What are the perspectives or points of view that the aborignals or native people, that have never been exposed to film, have when they are remembering a moment? Would their memories be constructed in the same way, are they seeing their memories from a first person perspective or are they seeing their memories from a third person perspective like many films today? How do our memories make the transition to third person when everything we experience is in first person?

A journal entry I read

The other day I wanted to write in my journal. I used to be in better habit of recording my thoughts, and daily activities, but working and going to school has presented a time constraint that I have not been able to work around. I hardly write in my journal anymore. The first journal entry was written December 25, 2005 and the next one was written on October 10, 2006...what I was doing in between this time will forever be a mystery. I wrote in my journal the other day (April 25, 2007, it would seem as though I have started a habit of writing only one journal entry a year, as if I were trying to save paper), and as I opened my journal I read the previous entry from October 10, 2006 and was surprised by what I wrote. I love that feeling of being surprised at your own thoughts, reading that entry felt as though I was having a conversation with my prior self from one year ago. I encourage everyone to converse with their previous selves, if anything just to compare who you were to who you are now. This was my entry on the 10th of October in 2006:

-It takes almost one year to revisit these blank pages. I feel a strong need for a creative outlet. My far fetching dreams are daunting, but I try to visualize my success as much as my rational side will allow. My best work in writing has been without structure, without having purpose, without having a specific point in mind. Jonathon Foer, a young author says, "Let accidents happen." I hope to have an accident real soon. Right now is the most appropriate, and responsible time in my life to actually pursue what I feel is innate to my being. I think people are born with certain intrinsic talents that when developed correctly can flourish into something not even the person can define.

What an entry. It's a strange action, to be reflecting on a past reflection, but I read this and thought, how articulate, how idealistic, how...naive.