almost a flashback to this post here. i got off the phone and the first words that ran through my mind were "hi, i miss you." now, i say that a lot. like, tons. (people who know who they are can attest to this.)
most of the time, i think i really mean what i say when i say these words. if my life were a story (which... it sort of is... right?) then i think that would be one of the character's "wantings." i honestly don't think it would fit into the yearning, because missing someone's presence isn't really on the same level (at least to me) as yearning for that person. but the "wanting" would fit under the feeling of being needed slash needing someone, which would be the yearning.
all of this just gets me thinking. how much of what we say do we really mean? especially when it comes to love. english is the only language that doesn't have multiple words for describing different types of love. greek has agape, phileo, and eros--unconditional, brotherly, and passionate respectively. chinese has multiple levels as well--喜爱 (xi'ai: to like something, i.e. i love that movie!)，恋爱 (lian'ai: romantic love. pretty self-explanatory)，热爱 (re'ai: to adore somebody/something)，恩爱 (en'ai: conjugal love)，博爱 (bo'ai: brotherly love)， 父爱 (fu'ai: parental love)， 眷爱 (juan'ai: sentimental attachment to something/somebody)，笃爱 (du'ai: loving someone deeply... i don't even know). in english, it's just love. what does it really mean? there's filial love, unconditional love, lust, the list goes on. there are modifiers, but there aren't any really different words that describe the different levels.
somehow, authors and writers choose the right words (don't even. i know that's a pun, but don't even.) to express what characters are feeling. it's a hard thing to do, which is why we're in a class to learn how to do so. good luck to everyone as we continue writing short stories, i bid thee all good luck in choosing the right words to say.
11.06.2010
11.05.2010
reflections on yearning and life
so. from the stories that we've read so far, i think the best ones are driven (as professor cross has said) by yearning. and i'm just thinking about why (since i had time to do that all day, since i was home sick. D:).
the reason why these stories are so good is because we're able to relate to the characters. in "gazpacho," monica yearns for a sense of identity--at first, she wants to leave behind her spanish self and claim an american identity. she comes to realize, though, that she can never really do that, and the story kinda finishes with her "achieving" her yearning. kinda the same thing in "mirrors abound." the narrator really yearns for a place in people's lives, a lengthy obit (relating the yearning back to what he does) and so on. in "elapse," the narrator yearns for a sense of community which is achieved but then tragically destroyed. in "orbital," lethe yearns for perfection, shown especially by her rejection of the "nightmare" reality. the depth of the yearning, however, is what really makes the story to me. i really enjoyed "gazpacho," "mirrors abound," and "elapse" because the narrator was able to make clear the yearning and help us as readers to sympathize with them. i wasn't too much of a fan of "orbital" because the narrator put me off with her snobbish voice and as a result, i wasn't able to really discern her yearning until after i had read through the entire story. (maybe this is why i like crime dramedies--because i like to piece these things together.)
in other words, i am le sick but i am feeling slightly le better.
the reason why these stories are so good is because we're able to relate to the characters. in "gazpacho," monica yearns for a sense of identity--at first, she wants to leave behind her spanish self and claim an american identity. she comes to realize, though, that she can never really do that, and the story kinda finishes with her "achieving" her yearning. kinda the same thing in "mirrors abound." the narrator really yearns for a place in people's lives, a lengthy obit (relating the yearning back to what he does) and so on. in "elapse," the narrator yearns for a sense of community which is achieved but then tragically destroyed. in "orbital," lethe yearns for perfection, shown especially by her rejection of the "nightmare" reality. the depth of the yearning, however, is what really makes the story to me. i really enjoyed "gazpacho," "mirrors abound," and "elapse" because the narrator was able to make clear the yearning and help us as readers to sympathize with them. i wasn't too much of a fan of "orbital" because the narrator put me off with her snobbish voice and as a result, i wasn't able to really discern her yearning until after i had read through the entire story. (maybe this is why i like crime dramedies--because i like to piece these things together.)
in other words, i am le sick but i am feeling slightly le better.
11.04.2010
pss:please let me have what i want.
pss:
germaine had dreamed since childhood of being an emt. the thought of being the lifeline for someone inside an ambulance just captivated him, and he couldn't wait to start helping the sick. as soon as he walked out of the training academy, he called up his local emt to see if there were any openings available. "of course," they had said, and immediately put him on graveyard shift.
germaine had dreamed since childhood of being an emt. but that was then. now he pulls himself out of bed, wipes away silent tears, dons a stony stoic face, and departs from his house. his short drive to the emt base is empty and quiet. as he boards the ambulance, he wonders exactly how many crying faces that he'll see tonight, begging him to let them die.
11.03.2010
muse:cider
i'm drinkin' cider. it's delicious.
muse:
there's always something just wonderful about cider. the way it smells, the way it tastes, the way it races down your throat to deliver soothing feelings and other Things Made of Good to the rest of your body... all in one convenient small (or very very tall) mug.
the warm smell of winter is what breezes off the top, and it completely permeates the senses. i can hear winter, see winter, feel winter, taste winter. i grip my medium-sized white mug in a firmly gentle hand and bring it to my lips. the brew seems to slip up to my mouth, greeting my tongue in an apple-flavored symphony. i can't really help but smile, because winter's never tasted so good. bringing the cup back down to my desk, i glance out my frosted windows and see newly fallen snow. it's winter, and it's never tasted so good.
muse:
there's always something just wonderful about cider. the way it smells, the way it tastes, the way it races down your throat to deliver soothing feelings and other Things Made of Good to the rest of your body... all in one convenient small (or very very tall) mug.
the warm smell of winter is what breezes off the top, and it completely permeates the senses. i can hear winter, see winter, feel winter, taste winter. i grip my medium-sized white mug in a firmly gentle hand and bring it to my lips. the brew seems to slip up to my mouth, greeting my tongue in an apple-flavored symphony. i can't really help but smile, because winter's never tasted so good. bringing the cup back down to my desk, i glance out my frosted windows and see newly fallen snow. it's winter, and it's never tasted so good.
11.02.2010
mobile3:toxic
hate's burning through my veins like poison. my words are ready to fly with venom. but nobody wants to hear it. so the acid just stays inside and eats away.
muse:memories
a little different from the other muses, but a muse still. inspired by "don't want an ending" by sam tsui. please go listen to it, it's amazing.
muse:
i've sent you a letter from halfway around the world. a photo is enclosed, my smiling face looking up at you. a woman is with me in the background, and you deduce from the matching bands on our fingers that we're married. you smile yourself, happy that i've finally found someone to share life with. you pull open the crumpled, yellowed paper. you can practically hear my voice as you read the words. the writing comes to life and flies off the pages, and suddenly i'm before your eyes.
"hey you," i greet affectionately. i beam, my eyes crinkling shut before i hug you tightly. "i haven't seen you in like, what. forever?" i giggle. (or is that you inserting that from your impression of me?) "i miss you. a lot. as you can probably see, i'm married now. but i miss you. i miss my best friend." my face falls as i pull away, you can hear it through my writing, you can hear the sigh before i continue with my voice faltering. "i'm really sad that we had to fall apart like this after high school." but then i perk up. "but i'm really glad that we've been able to keep in touch throughout these years. your handwriting is still as neat as ever."
you snort, making a soft comment about how your handwriting can't even compare to mine. mine's dynamic, you say. it's all over the place, it's just so you. i nod before continuing. my voice can't stop breaking, though.
"i just wanted to tell you what i should've told you before." your heart seizes as your eyes jump ahead in the letter. i hug you again, pressing myself close to you. "i know you're freaking out, i know. but please don't." your eyes roll and you can hear me smile again. "i'm really sad that we couldn't spend enough time together. we found each other so late in the game. but i wouldn't undo it, i think that's when we were supposed to meet." i unwrap my arms from you, but i'm still close enough to feel your heartbeat. "what i regret is not being able to spend as much time as possible with you. i held myself back with all that drama (i know you're agreeing with me with that goofy smile of yours) and when we finally were on the same page, i couldn't bring myself to do anything. so the memories i have of you hurt me. they're the ones that we made inadvertently, the ones made by accident. singing in the hallway, working on projects, just getting to know each other. laughing about ice cream, having late night talks. i really wish i could do this all over again. i wish that i could have more time with you, time with just us. time to hang out, time to make memories to fill this empty book. time to make memories so that when i finally had to let go of you, i could do it with a tearful smile, saying that we've had our time together. i--" and the words are abruptly cut off, splashes of rust-smelling liquid on the page. you blink a couple times before realizing what they are. your breath catches in your throat. just one more day. just one more day. just one more day, that's all i need. you close your eyes, and once you open them again you're with me in the hallways of our high school. the leaves are turning flaming gold, brilliant crimson, and other colors of autumn. you pull me close, breathing in my scent.
"just one more day with you," you whisper. "if i could, that's all i'd need."
muse:
i've sent you a letter from halfway around the world. a photo is enclosed, my smiling face looking up at you. a woman is with me in the background, and you deduce from the matching bands on our fingers that we're married. you smile yourself, happy that i've finally found someone to share life with. you pull open the crumpled, yellowed paper. you can practically hear my voice as you read the words. the writing comes to life and flies off the pages, and suddenly i'm before your eyes.
"hey you," i greet affectionately. i beam, my eyes crinkling shut before i hug you tightly. "i haven't seen you in like, what. forever?" i giggle. (or is that you inserting that from your impression of me?) "i miss you. a lot. as you can probably see, i'm married now. but i miss you. i miss my best friend." my face falls as i pull away, you can hear it through my writing, you can hear the sigh before i continue with my voice faltering. "i'm really sad that we had to fall apart like this after high school." but then i perk up. "but i'm really glad that we've been able to keep in touch throughout these years. your handwriting is still as neat as ever."
you snort, making a soft comment about how your handwriting can't even compare to mine. mine's dynamic, you say. it's all over the place, it's just so you. i nod before continuing. my voice can't stop breaking, though.
"i just wanted to tell you what i should've told you before." your heart seizes as your eyes jump ahead in the letter. i hug you again, pressing myself close to you. "i know you're freaking out, i know. but please don't." your eyes roll and you can hear me smile again. "i'm really sad that we couldn't spend enough time together. we found each other so late in the game. but i wouldn't undo it, i think that's when we were supposed to meet." i unwrap my arms from you, but i'm still close enough to feel your heartbeat. "what i regret is not being able to spend as much time as possible with you. i held myself back with all that drama (i know you're agreeing with me with that goofy smile of yours) and when we finally were on the same page, i couldn't bring myself to do anything. so the memories i have of you hurt me. they're the ones that we made inadvertently, the ones made by accident. singing in the hallway, working on projects, just getting to know each other. laughing about ice cream, having late night talks. i really wish i could do this all over again. i wish that i could have more time with you, time with just us. time to hang out, time to make memories to fill this empty book. time to make memories so that when i finally had to let go of you, i could do it with a tearful smile, saying that we've had our time together. i--" and the words are abruptly cut off, splashes of rust-smelling liquid on the page. you blink a couple times before realizing what they are. your breath catches in your throat. just one more day. just one more day. just one more day, that's all i need. you close your eyes, and once you open them again you're with me in the hallways of our high school. the leaves are turning flaming gold, brilliant crimson, and other colors of autumn. you pull me close, breathing in my scent.
"just one more day with you," you whisper. "if i could, that's all i'd need."
11.01.2010
a thanks, and reflections.
to those who responded to mobile2: need. i really appreciated your comments--it was uplifting to me.
also, the stories so far. they are interesting. both have taken interesting viewpoints on traditional things. a second-person view, and then a charmed life view on the question of what is reality. what i must say though that really irks and upsets me is when the characters are flat, one-dimensional, and have no yearning. as professor cross said, yearning is what drives the character. without yearning, the character is still words, a flat being with no life, no direction, no anything. the character is still words. it is our duty as writers to find, mold, and create our characters with their flaws. characters are supposed to be a portrait of the human news, about people's shortcomings. if characters do not have flaws or yearnings, they are one dimensional, still letters on a page. only once a character has things that hurt them, things that they yearn for, and shortcomings that inhibit them do they become a full-fledged character, a magical being woven from words that lives and breathes.
that is our duty as writers. to show the human news in our characters, to create worlds woven from words that live and breathe. that, friends, is what writing is.
edit:
elapse is a beautiful story. the time passage is done amazingly, it moves like a song. this is probably the best story i've read so far, the first to move me to tears. second person draws me in like nothing other, and there is so much attachment built up with the characters that i didn't even realize until the tears almost fell from my eyes. so a congratulations to you, dear sir!
also, the stories so far. they are interesting. both have taken interesting viewpoints on traditional things. a second-person view, and then a charmed life view on the question of what is reality. what i must say though that really irks and upsets me is when the characters are flat, one-dimensional, and have no yearning. as professor cross said, yearning is what drives the character. without yearning, the character is still words, a flat being with no life, no direction, no anything. the character is still words. it is our duty as writers to find, mold, and create our characters with their flaws. characters are supposed to be a portrait of the human news, about people's shortcomings. if characters do not have flaws or yearnings, they are one dimensional, still letters on a page. only once a character has things that hurt them, things that they yearn for, and shortcomings that inhibit them do they become a full-fledged character, a magical being woven from words that lives and breathes.
that is our duty as writers. to show the human news in our characters, to create worlds woven from words that live and breathe. that, friends, is what writing is.
edit:
elapse is a beautiful story. the time passage is done amazingly, it moves like a song. this is probably the best story i've read so far, the first to move me to tears. second person draws me in like nothing other, and there is so much attachment built up with the characters that i didn't even realize until the tears almost fell from my eyes. so a congratulations to you, dear sir!
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