I'm 24 years old and I haven't a clue. I thought I did. I really did, actually. I wrote about it last time. But there is one other plan I want as well. I don't know which one is better, right, or more practical. Can I ever get the one I want? Can I get something else that will not make me a beggar on the streets?
I want a teaching job back in Kansas so I can make a troupe and dance at the KC Renaissance Festival every year. How shallow and silly is that? Who is that benefitting? No one but me, really. I mean, I know that it makes the patrons happy and that is good. Especially since the fest is a place people come to so they don't have to deal with Real Life on the weekends. And I don't care about that. I think ignoring life and coming out to play is a good thing. But is that something I can do of for the next 20 years of my life? Who says I have to have a job that settles me up for the next 20 years? It would be good though. Who wants to be fired and move around a lot? That's stressful. I'd like some security in my life but all my dreams don't involve that. Or a man, to be honest. Did you notice the absence of Magic Man? I did. Magic Man is a drop dead handsome guy who does adventurous things with me and has a lot of money. Or rather, enough so I don't HAVE to work but I can if I want and it would help out if I did. So, not a LOT of money. But enough for two, ambitious people.
School is freaking me out. I have no loans out yet, but that may change. Very soon. See, these fees I had not thought about have thrown off my money plan and my stipends didn't come in when I thought they would. And the scholarships I had renewed were only for undergrads, which I am not nay more. So I miss calculated. By a lot. So I'm about $1800 short and the school wants their money. I don't blame them. But I only have around...$300 maybe and the car needs: the window fixed, the door fixed (it won't open form the inside, it's all shattered), an oil change, gas (NOW!), and the alarm system looked at. Phew...
So no buying that cute hat and scarf I wanted this winter. I don't "need those things any way... I'll just wear my old one and my hat with cat-ears on it.
I didn't get a job during the summer because I spent forever setting up a Creative Writing class for homeschooled kids. Well, the parents decided last minute I was too expensive and they all bailed. Plus, the church I was trying to get a room from never, ever emailed or called me back. So no class there...Or work. I almost got a job as a manager at GameStop but I turned that down because I cannot currently make myself walk into a mall for work any more.
Sometimes I wonder about wasting my time. I also wonder why I cannot get the difference between "waist" and "waste" right. It's my biggest issue right now. I sit in my room for hours on end reading all the required texts, making notes, trying to think about applying what I'm reading, adventuring into the digital texts mentioned in the print texts and I still haven't paid the school. I owe them so much money and yet I am taking their classes. What if I can't pay it and I have to drop out and go work retail? Wasted hours--months--of my life. I should write too.
I say the same things over and over again. I write these blogs because there must be someone else out there with these issues (please...?) and because it forces me to write in a semi clear way. I have to organize my thoughts a little and try to make sense any way. So it's "writing". There. I did my bit for today.
And honestly, I took 3 days to write this post as it sat in my "drafts" bin. I suck and I need to do something about my life.
The Gypsy's Vardo
In the World But Not of It: My Times and Trials on the Quest to Womanhood
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
72: Cabbages and Kings!
I’m taking this moment to think
about myself. What would I look like in my perfect life? Like the real, reality
of what I want/dream of. This may change. It often has. It will again. When I
was a teenager, I saw myself in a zoo taking care of animals, wearing khakis,
being a vegetarian (hahah!). Now it’s different. Please, come into my home, it
is 7am and my alarm has just gone off.
I wake up and hit the off button
because I always get up when my alarm tells me to. I know I have to use every
hour of every day. I stretch and smell the fresh air coming off the Montana
mountains. I left my window open again. It’s September but it still gets cool
in the evenings. I find that my studio cools just fine if I can cut off the AC
during the night.
My studio is wide and open. Huge
windows let me look over the small town and the wilderness beyond that was my
first love. In the distance, I can see the road I take to get to the
reservation where I teach adult classes on the weekends. I love my students
though it’s a challenge and I have to watch what I say.
Putting on my slippers to protect
my feet from the cold stone floor, I check my phone and see I have a missed
text from that one guy who wants to “hang out”. I smile and make a mental note
to reply later. He can wait.
In the kitchen, which of course has
no walls and is really just a jaunt away from my bed, I flip on my Goodwill
coffee maker and the radio to get some news and music from the 60s to the 80s.
I grab a bag of fruit out of the fridge that I had cut up the night before and
place it next to a bowl. I decide weather I want yogurt or bran cereal.
After pouring some cereal to have
with my fruit, I check on my kids in the other room. Spike, my large mutt is
just blinking into the light when I open the door to the only bedroom in the
loft. Across from his crate, Augustine and Benedict, my ferrets, are still
snoozing in their hammock. I call Spike out and rub his ears as he does a
terrific downward facing dog. He’s reminding me to not forget my morning yoga.
I chat Spike’s ears off as I listen
to Journey and the news and do my own meager dishes. I can’t stand a messy
kitchen. By this time, it’s a quarter till 8am and I need to start my day. I
stand for a few minutes in the middle of my loft—my ritual “What the hell am I
supposed to be doing?” moment.
Deciding it’s still early enough, I
quickly change into my black and neon workout clothes and grab Spike’s leash. I
stretch a little, do some jumping jacks to warm up and then head out to jog and
walk in the town and the bits of the woods I can get to in 30 minutes. Spike
loves a good run, but sometimes he’s too fast for me. I have to pull him back,
chastise him, and then walk to remind him he must go as fast or as slow as I
do. I accidently run through a mud puddle.
Back in the loft, it’s just after
8:30am when I pull out my yoga mat and turn on some soothing music. I stretch,
waking up my mind after the run and breathing deep into my brain to get it ready
for what’s next. I do some weights, because I feel the need just now. Just a
few reps of some ten pounders or so.
I slow down my heart and grab a
bottle of water then clean up from the jog. I change into my Writer’s Clothes
(no doubt baggy harem pants and a camisole) and grab anther cup of coffee and
make sure I have a Red Bull in the fridge. Spike yawns and makes him way to his
giant pillow bed. He has a tug toy and knows he can play with it and usually
makes all the noise he wants, but to day he is being polite.
At 9:15, I go to My Space. This is
the western corner of my loft where the sun cannot hit my computer screen until
it is time to call it quits. I have an old wooden desk that I probably picked
up out of someone’s curb trash. I have a nice chair with a back that I did
spend money on. My computer is nice (Alienware for night gaming) and I have
walls lines with bookshelves that start at this point of my room. This is the
heart. Everything branches out from here. Under me is a giant, multicolored shag
carpet that I squinch my toes in when I get to a good plot point. My desk and
shelves are covered in dragons, wizards, fairies, rocket ships, Star Trek
gadgets, unicorns, and Alien figurines. I also have an incense burner and more
watts worth of candles than I do electric lights.
This is my space.
On the walls I also have maps of
the lands I created and lists of characters. With these are pictures of my
family, my kids, and maps of my beautiful Montana.
When I log on, I check my emails,
reply to a self-publishing author I am editing for and check on my other
free-lance jobs. It was hard starting out, but once I had a bulk of work done,
it was easier to get hired. Plus, getting one stand along novel published and
the first in a series didn’t hurt either. I also teach. I work a lot, like I
always have, but I’d have it no other way. I like doing more than one thing.
I edit some web pages for clients,
write an article for a fitness e-zine that I work for, and then apply for a few
more free-lance jobs. After that, I go over the next weekend’s worth of
lectures and classes for my adult class on the reservation. It’s a special
class for adults who never learned to read or write very well. I do a lot of
creative writing and novel reading in the class, but it is teaching them. Even
if it is a little less academic than normal teachers. I grade the essays from
last weekend and smile at some of the progress and sigh at the lack from
others.
Then I get an email from my own
editor talking about changes that need to be made to my second book. Some of
them really grind my gears and I go back to my manuscript to read the bit
mentioned. At first, I don’t like it. But the more I read her ideas, the more I
realize it’s for the best. I make a note to edit my own work and reply to her
that I’d give it a shot.
By this time it’s almost 11:30am
and I need to move my legs. I get up and stretch, play some tug with Spike and
get tea. I also feed and water Benedict and Augustine and let them out to play
in their room. I shut the door so Spike doesn’t bother them. They have a cat
toward and I think he gets jealous sometimes.
Now I sit down to make my own
words. I open a short story first that needs to be a finished first draft and
bang out some ideas, scenes, and a finishing act. I wonder for a moment why I
only use the Steampunk genre when I don’t care how I write but they end up
being some of my favorites. At this point, I’ve only published 2 of this genre,
but I still like writing them. I shrug and think about my main character with
the crazy name and her religious fanatic sidekick.
Deciding it’s all good for now, I
close it out and work on my novel. As I’m writing about magic and knights, I
remember a professor I had who loved nonfiction. I had two professors who loved
nonfiction. I still talk to them sometimes because they believe in my writing
and that’s encouraging often. I’m distracted. Dragons. He’s going to find out
that his arch nemeses from child hood is the man who’s been helping him all
along. Nether of them know that though. Hahah, I smile, sorry boys, shocker!
Next thing I know, Spike is whining
at the door and it’s almost 1:30pm! I realize my shoulders and back and
cramped! I run to the door, slip on my shoes and take Spike for a short walk as
I’m starving at this point. He does his business and I head back to eat. I
contemplate the meager food in my fridge and remind myself it’s for my better
mental health that I chose this job. I make a sandwich with no mustard as I’m
out and my next royalties check isn’t do for a few more days.
I see I have an email from a dance
client asking me to do a show Friday night. I reply that of course I would and
go into the bedroom that is also the workout room. I move the ferrets’s tower
aside because they are snug in their hammock again and get out my dance stuff.
I run through some new stuff I’d been practicing but mostly polish up old
stuff. I only do that for about 40 minutes and then take ten minutes to wipe
the sweat away with some WetWipes. Showers are for the evening. I live along
and can do what I want.
Now it’s just after 3pm and I have
to write up those changes my editor wanted. After that, I look around for more
teaching jobs just in case. I want to move up to teaching more, but don’t know
if it will happen. I’m always looking. But the mail brings a surprise! My check
from the reservation has come and I can go shopping.
The town is small so I ride my
motorcycle to the store to get groceries and check out the used bookstore.
Margaret Mallory’s Highland heroes stare at me from one dusty corner and I
finally cave and buy the first two. Sticking romance next to my weeks supply of
wine and food in my plastic saddlebags, I motor home after stopping by the
local coffee store to say hello to the few people I know. We make plans for
hanging out after my show on Friday and one of them asks me if I can recommend
books for her son to read. I blabbed out a great list.
Once home, it’s close enough to
dinnertime that I start the veggies and slow cook the chicken that I bought.
Spike morns beside me like he has done for the last two years of his life,
wishing he could have the meat. I eat early, close to 6pm, and walk Spike one
last time. I take him farther into the woods as I always do when I get out
early enough for the sun to still be up. He loves the woods more than the
sidewalks and sniffs everything. I don’t mind. My head isn’t even there. The
woods are my inspiration and already there is a new story whirring inside my
mind.
We get home and go into the bedroom
to snuggle up and watch a movie or a few episodes of whatever I am in love with
at the time. I let the ferrets out once more and Spike watches warily from his
pillow as they scamper about. I play chase with them and trap them inside an
old drier hose they cannot get enough of. They scurry out the other end and
chide me with wide, grinning fangs as they hop around doing a strange
war-dance. I miss some of the show, but I don’t mind.
Once 9pm rolls around, I put all
the kids to bed. “So early!” I hear you saying. But trust me, I like my mind to
be sharp when it needs to be. I plan for the next night to be gaming night
rather than a movie and think about which character I want to focus on in my
game. After showering and getting comfy, I curl up in bed with one of my guilty
books and read until my eyes hurt. With so much screen-time, this only takes
about an hour. Come 11:15 or so and I’m out of it. I put the book down, turn
off the lights, lock the doors and go to bed.
This is all a bit of nonsense
really since I live in reality. But it’s time to talk of other things in real
life. Enough of what is and more of what could be. Cabbages and kings.
Monday, June 30, 2014
71: What To Do When There is Nothing To Do
This summer has been a real challenge for me. No jobs, no moving out like I had planned, BFFF is all married and in a new life, struggling for school money so I can get a master's degree, family is evolving and changing and we can't really keep up--the list is endless as I'm sure yours is.
All of this and I don't know what to do. I feel really stuck and trapped. Every day (well, almost every day, at least 3 or 4 times a week) I sit down at my computer and search for jobs. I bookmark the good looking ones and make a pile to return to after my great search is over. Then I go through them one at a time, apply, write cover letters, send in resumes and CVs, and sometimes if the people are really annoying, I have to write whole new samples of my work based on their guidelines ("Write two 1000-word articles from different angles about the decline of youth involvement in society". Eh?) That's a lot for applying. Do you just want to see an academic paper I wrote about literature and psychology instead?
If only life were that kind.
This can get very disheartening after a while. Especially since, after more than 5 weeks of doing this, I've gotten one rather rude rejection (littered with typos... I hate to be that grammar Nazi, but really? Pay me to edit your rejection letters...), one email of "we're interested" but then no follow up, and a whole lot of empty inbox. That's right, of the 20+ jobs I've applied for (even some craigslist! eeh!) I've received 1.5 replies. I understand they are swamped with resumes though. But even that understanding isn't enough to sooth my grieving spirit. (And Constantine died so that doesn't help). I need a job, like so many others.
So in the mean time, what do I do to try to ease my father's anxiety and my mothers not understanding why I'm still here in her house? A lot of things.
1. Keep up with my hobbies.
So not as much as I should be, but I did get to teach a belly dance workshop in Defiance the other month and that was good. It made me practice up, eat right, and make sure I still had my dance technique. I have another coming up in September and maybe a class at a local Zumba joint. They are all spread out so the money isn't something I can rely on, but my physicality can. I workout with these things in mind and still watch what I eat.
2. Keep writing!
It is what I want my life to be about. I get so excited about writing sometimes that I have crazy, drunk butterflies in my stomach. That's how much I love writing! I get so much energy thinking about magic systems, worlds, religions, cultures, lizard-people, and giant monsters that I shake when writing! I get so pumped about sharing a lesson and life perspective that my mind races faster than I can type. I get jittery thinking about word-play and symbolism. It's all very nerdy and exhilarating!
Also, this gives me practice to say things different ways and realize how I speak and how my words come across to others. I also have the time to try out characters, flaws, twists, plots, and other things that I would normally have to carefully craft before finalizing. The play is super fun.
With so much material being produced, I now have something of a stash of stories, ideas, and novels. Yeah, I have 3 novels I can toy with and edit and a small series of novelettes too. This slumps has given me time to create a horde of things I can come back to. But don't misunderstand, I polish too and finish. Yeah, I finish now! How amazing is that? Usually, I can hardly finish a story let alone a novel. So when you're stuck, keep up with your craft. Even if you think it's a waste of time and you should be out hunting for a job 24-7, take a moment to practice what you want to do!
3. Do other things.
I have one or two very specific hobbies so this doesn't mean that. My hobbies are reading (for my craft!) and dancing. I change it up with going to a Zumba class (so fun!), swimming, nature parks, or going to a movie. Later to day, my siblings and I are going to see "How to Train Your Dragon 2" just to give me some space and something else to do with my head. Movies are fine, just don't watch ones that make you feel stupid. And I love TV shows like "Supernatural" and "Heroes" but I try to not watch more than 2 episodes in one sitting.
Play a game! I love boardgames like "Catan" and "Hero Quest". Harry Potter themed "Clue" is also really fun for some reason. However...I absolutely love "League of Legends" right now too. Yes, I play video games. And I will admit right now, sometimes I spend too much time on League. Especially if I'm feeling really down about jobs.
The trick with these Other Things is to know when to stop and go back to being profitable. Train yourself and discipline yourself to know what enough is enough.
4. PLAN!
This is my golden One Ring of power right here. I write down everything. Mostly because I cannot remember a thing and have very bad memory and pretty bad depression sometimes and if I don't see a written task, I may not do it. Get a spiral-bound calendar that fits in your man-purse or book bag and keep it with you. I am very sad that mine has just a couple months left in it. I've had it for a year!
I write down daily what I want to do. Everything. Even Other Things and fun stuff. Not just the work and the exercise.
To day I have things like "write/edit", "find short story ideas", "apply for bookmarked jobs", "dance exercise", "Go see dragon movie". Everything is on there that I want to do today. You will notice that League is not on there. *Sigh*
When you do a thing, check it off! That makes me feel so accomplished. This is seriously the biggest thing on here. Plan what you do. Make time, take the time, and get things done.
5. Do things that make you feel worth while.
I try to not watch or read anything that is *ahem* below my intelligence level. I like my leisure time to be challenging as well. Or I chose "easy" things that are not unintelligent. I do like the occasional Young Adult series of books (Looking at you, Heather Brewer) and the animated Disney flick. But those things are well-thoughtout and worth it. Do not dumb yourself down and do not get lazy.
6. Lastly...
Do not be upset when you cannot get everything on your list or you do not hear back from those people you spent 24 hours preparing your resume, cover letter, and writing samples for. I do though, so don't worry. But telling someone else not to helps me not to. I am very down about jobs right now but I cannot let it nail me to the floor or I'll never get back up again.
When the job-thing starts to tear you up and tell you your not worth it, stop and go look at something great you did. Don't go that Thing and be like "Nah, you suck! You didn't get me the job!" It's not the Thing's fault! And it's not yours either. The Thing is not badly done. Maybe it just wasn't right for that job. Take an idea from it and try something else. Keep producing ideas and Things. You are unique enough to make a lot of cool Things and someone will want it and you.
Don't give up, and don't drown in depression.
Sorry, that last one was for me, but you can take it too.
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Thursday, June 12, 2014
Chapter 70: Grown Up Things
I'll be 25 this year. Not till the end of this year but there it is. Looming up out of the cold, Ohio Autumn comes that age. The time when some people who know scientific things say that your body stops growing and starts to, well, get old. To die. Back in the European olden days, 25 was when you were considered an old maid. If you were not married by then, you were probably pretty screwed. You were not desirable, pretty, young, fresh, and lovely any more. You are old and rather useless.
Bring this to the 21st century. You're not really old until you are well over 40. And if you dress like a rave-kid with blond hair, all cropped and short and wearing short jean skirts--well, then you can pull it off for even longer. Don't forget the fake tan and excessive exercise. You know the women I'm talking about.
Here is me. College grad, English degree, some experience, lots of written words and stories, lots of passion and desire to change the world. The grown up thing to do would be to hunt like a tigress for a job. I am, don't worry. But when something doesn't show up, I suppose the other grown up thing to would be to just settle on something else. Be a banker or something. I wish I was that grown up. I want the job I want though. However, in the mean time, I am looking for something a little closer to home. Findlay is not exactly full of jobs but I am looking. To please my poor father who put love, sweat, tears, and blood and money into my education, I am applying at the public library. We'll see how that goes.
In the mean time, this blog will be far less formal as I have started "The Moral Alien" for my fancy work. And by fancy I don't mean refined and perfect. No writing is perfect and no one will ever think so. "Alien" is for things I research and edit at least once. This is nothing any more. Just my every thought. And I think my thoughts are worth writing down. If I don't think so, who will? No one will do anything for you, so you have to get it started yourself.
For now, I have applied for a job at Riot. I wish I could get the job, but I know I won't. In the mean time, I have applied to more than 20 jobs in the last 3 weeks. For each one I have had to at least write a new sample, hand in a resume, give ten titles for future stories another such shenanigans. It gets exhausting! I get so tired after a round that I want to sleep but then I have to work out. I get fat too fast. Maybe next time I'll tell you about something more specific like my exercise regime and how I eat. I find it interesting any way.
I shall writ about everything. but for now, I will hush up :) This is an old blog but at some point, someone must have read it. And someone will. And I will always write. I have things to say and I want to say them. The gown up thing to do is not give a crap about other people. I do that in real life. Not on here. This is my space. My grown up thing is to do what I need to.
Thank you and see you next time!
Oh, and I am making a vlog video as soon as I can about being a Support on LoL. I know, I wrote about it on "Alien" but I have more to say. Someone said that Support is the easiest role. I will show you why it is not. Thank you and goodbye!
Bring this to the 21st century. You're not really old until you are well over 40. And if you dress like a rave-kid with blond hair, all cropped and short and wearing short jean skirts--well, then you can pull it off for even longer. Don't forget the fake tan and excessive exercise. You know the women I'm talking about.
Here is me. College grad, English degree, some experience, lots of written words and stories, lots of passion and desire to change the world. The grown up thing to do would be to hunt like a tigress for a job. I am, don't worry. But when something doesn't show up, I suppose the other grown up thing to would be to just settle on something else. Be a banker or something. I wish I was that grown up. I want the job I want though. However, in the mean time, I am looking for something a little closer to home. Findlay is not exactly full of jobs but I am looking. To please my poor father who put love, sweat, tears, and blood and money into my education, I am applying at the public library. We'll see how that goes.
In the mean time, this blog will be far less formal as I have started "The Moral Alien" for my fancy work. And by fancy I don't mean refined and perfect. No writing is perfect and no one will ever think so. "Alien" is for things I research and edit at least once. This is nothing any more. Just my every thought. And I think my thoughts are worth writing down. If I don't think so, who will? No one will do anything for you, so you have to get it started yourself.
For now, I have applied for a job at Riot. I wish I could get the job, but I know I won't. In the mean time, I have applied to more than 20 jobs in the last 3 weeks. For each one I have had to at least write a new sample, hand in a resume, give ten titles for future stories another such shenanigans. It gets exhausting! I get so tired after a round that I want to sleep but then I have to work out. I get fat too fast. Maybe next time I'll tell you about something more specific like my exercise regime and how I eat. I find it interesting any way.
I shall writ about everything. but for now, I will hush up :) This is an old blog but at some point, someone must have read it. And someone will. And I will always write. I have things to say and I want to say them. The gown up thing to do is not give a crap about other people. I do that in real life. Not on here. This is my space. My grown up thing is to do what I need to.
Thank you and see you next time!
Oh, and I am making a vlog video as soon as I can about being a Support on LoL. I know, I wrote about it on "Alien" but I have more to say. Someone said that Support is the easiest role. I will show you why it is not. Thank you and goodbye!
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Chapter 69: Writerly Literary Things
I realized I wasn’t breathing when
my vision started to go grey and I felt myself tipping off the back of my old
stool that sat in front of my first ever new laptop. I had had the stool for
ten years. Before it sat in front of my vary old Casio where I made music. The
laptop was a Mac, new and purple. The thing on the screen that had caused such
dizziness and shock was an email from school. Well, two emails from school. The
first said something like “Congratulations, you are invited to the Symposium of
Scholarship and Creativity” and then went on to tell me the program. That meant
honors in English.
For years, my dad has reminded how
expensive my orthodoction was. He told me about my Spec Ops brother who had his
school and house bought for him by the US Air Force. He told me about my other
brothers and how they both got many offers from private colleges for full-ride
scholarships. They all went on to do great things. Then there was me. Not even
out of high school and had a record amount of dental bills and medical issues
with joints, breathing, and brain activity. That’s why I remembered to breath
when I saw the email: don’t disappoint dad now! He said that if I was going to
graduate, I had to do it with honors. Or not at all. Everyone else before had.
The second email was about
graduation. I have no idea what it said now. All I know was that it was about
graduation and it was talking to me. I’ve lived in 3 states and gone to for
colleges in the last 3 years and have been in college for six. I never thought
graduation would come. But it has. And this has been a fantastic year. Last
semester was better. I wrote a novel, a novelette, 3 short stories, and plotted
an entire series.
This semester, I struggled to get
twenty-five pages out. Fortunately, I told myself, “It’s only twenty-five. Last time, you could do that in three days
without editing. A week with.” I kept remember my first class in Cap Stone. “I
reall really want to be a writer,” I had said like a high school freshman.
I had to remind myself of that kid
to get any writing this semester. My parents think that science and math are
the be-all end-all of the universe. I had to take statistics this semester. I
wish I could just blame the four hours a day I spent studying on that for my
lack of writing this semester. I say lack, but I did get two short stories and
twenty-seven pages of some kind of supernatural novelette written. The point
was that it wasn’t the amount of last semester and that’s what I wanted. But I
had to get a B+ in stats. That is not happening.
I had to remind myself of my much
younger-last-semester-self because I wasn’t writing. I was working hours on a
class that doesn’t matter. I was crying at night over formulas I will never see
again. I don’t know how many there are, but I have learned thirty new ones just
this semester. I can tell you the probability that someone will kick a field
goal this year. But that will not help Glenn, my paladin-knight from a long
novel, claim the dragon-throne for his own and show the world how the lines
between power and corruption are thin. No, instead that formula stopped Glenn
from even existing in my head for some time.
Like all bipolar, depressed kids, I
went for an escape but didn’t have the brainpower to write it away. I couldn’t
even read. So I played online games. But there, in the battlenet chatrooms I
was guilt tripped again. Some user had the audacity to call themselves
Claredy-catgirl99. Clare is another character of mine. It was as though writing
was calling me beyond the isolation room I had sent it off to.
I was distracted by gaming nonsense
and mathematical nonsense. More than learning cool writing techniques (and that
when I write non-fiction I apparently demean men) I learned to prioritize.
Again. I learned that back in grade school, but I had to relearn. Rather than
stay up to all hours screaming at my calculator as I typed in wrong integers
again, or instead of logging on to League of Legends, I started to write again.
It was very, very hard.
I had a run-in with someone from my
parents church who told me about how great religion was so I wrote about them.
Religion then become an automaton in a steampunk story where God was
represented by the a grandfather clock. The Man ran away in the end and it was
all very sad, but it may be my favorite story. It was very literary and I tried
a lot of techniques in it. Trying to write like a writer really got me back
into writing.
That was all it took though. I know
writing and I are destined to be together now. A little nudge and I was hammering
away till 2am rather than crying until 2am. I wrote more on my Golmasiah series
in which Hypria discovers new islands and tries to combat hunger with magic. I
found myself tying that post-colonialism and poverty in the world today. It is
a rather odd commentary, I admit, but one I was very interested in tackling. It
also helped me tackle the age-old question of “why don’t wizards just make
magic food?” Because it goes really wrong. Like eating food that’s been touched
by large amounts of radiation.
I also had to learn to not hold
onto everything I wrote. I’ve been learning that for years but this strange,
supernatural thriller I have going on may be the cherry. When I started writing
it, it wasn’t supernatural. I didn’t know what it was. A travel narrative
maybe. But then it got weird when the main character ended up at a crossroads.
I think I was writing the story as an analogy of itself. It may still be. I
don’t know. But that is the twenty-seven pages I got out this semester. I doubt
I’ll keep it. But it was practice. I used to say that I only when inspiration
strikes. That can’t be true for me any more. If I want to be a writer, I need
to write—anything!—every day. Practice. How will I know if I am saying
something the wrong way if I haven’t tried it? I say, write all the time and
makes mistakes all the time so I know, all the time, what not to do. And what to
practice.
If I write everyday, there is a
chance that I will write a description or scene twenty times in a month. Maybe
in different stories but similar scenes. One will be better than the other nineteen.
That means there is a .052 chance that I write something good once a month if I
write every day. Oh, look there, Statistics! Maybe it’s not worthless after
all?
That chance isn’t that big, but it’s
bigger than the next person who only writes when inspired. That means that they
write far less and have far less of a chance of getting it right. This semester
was a struggle, but I learned what it takes to keep writing. And if I want to
be a writer, I must keep writing. Every day.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Chapter 68: Victor Frankenstein and I: Speculation on the Mad Scientist's Madness and Myself
We all love those crazy psychologists, right? Sometimes, the only way I can explain how I feel is to point to some of them and use their bizarro thoughts as my own. Plus, a lot of people won't believe you unless you point to some old, dead guy and say he thought of it first. Now, I'm not diagnosed officially because the therapist I go to can't do that. But after reading "The Modern Prometheus" for probably the billionth time, I thought, "Dang, Vic, I love you because you are so bipolar." I understand Victor so well. Enough, of this though. Let's talk science and get all academic.
Erik
Erikson developed simple-to-use psychological Stages of Growth that show us
what ages human beings go through certain stages (seriously, you can google0image search the thing). Mother’s always say, “Oh,
don’t mind him, he’s a teenager.” Erikson provided some answers as to what is
going on behind those children’s eyes as they grow. Using Erkison’s theory, we
can explore the minds and motives behind what literary characters do and say.
Using
Erikson’s scale of growth (point out those smart ones!), we’ll examine Merry Shelley’s title character Victor
Frankenstein. Victor is interesting because he shows signs of having more than
one problem (I love a man with issues...). He is moody, hates socializing, likes to be in control of other
people, and is so driven at some points that he forgets about his family and
friends and drives at education mercilessly. Some of these symptoms, as we will
later discuss, are signs of depression, bipolar disorder, and possibly show him
as a sociopath (a high-function one at that!). What could cause him to be the way he is? Does he have a savior
complex or womb-envy (lol, but seriously, people, this is a thing)? Why is he so driven and seemingly sociopathic? Does he
have feelings or not? Erik Erikson’s theories and stages of growth can be used
to analyze this fictional character’s life and actions to see what could
possibly be troubling him and causing him to reach so far as to create life. Ever get that feeling? "Hmmm, I need a pal, let's make one!" Yeah, me too.
The
first thing that must be examined is that Victor talks very little of growing
up in the book. He doesn’t mention too much in chapter one about his life. Instead he focuses on his parent’s life. He seems to be
intellectualizing his parent’s biography to tell you why he doesn’t wish to
speak about his life. But this is important to understanding Victor; his
parents have a great effect on his development. His father had a friend who
went into debt, bankruptcy, then hid to avoid the consequences of his actions
(Shelley 27). Frankenstein Sr. found out the friend and brought him back and he
died leaving his young daughter to the care of Mr. Frankenstein. Victor says
that his father “is one of the most distinguished of that republic” and that he
had “filled several public stations with honour and reputation” (Shelley 27).
From this, a psychologist could infer that Mr. Frankenstein was a man of high
standing and important in his community. He is used to being looked up to
admired and asked for help. He is perhaps even the savior of others under him. God-like-savior-alert!
An
example of his “savior” behavior can be seen when he marries his friend’s
daughter Caroline. This could be signs of a messiah complex or what is called a
grandiose complex (Diamond). He feels the need to save because that is what he has
been doing for some time in his offices of power. However, that is just the tip
of the iceberg. These feelings of grandeur
can come from and be aggravated by a bipolar complex, which is where the person
has feelings of ups and downs that change at a normally rapid pace. Caroline’s
father probably had developed bipolar disorder after he was saved by Mr.
Frankenstein. Victor says that his grief would rise and fall until he was sick
in bed and eventually it consumed and killed him (Shelley 28). Well, dang.
Now
Mr. Frankenstein feels he must take care of this woman. “Perhaps during former
years he had suffered the late-discovered unworthiness of one beloved, and so
was disposed to set a greater value on tried worth… [Caroline’s] health and
even the tranquility of her hitherto constant spirit, had been shaken by what
she had gone through” (Shelley 28-29). Mr. Frankenstein felt he had to earn her
love. These feelings of worthlessness are common in bipolar disorder and in some
savior complex’s. They feel they must work extra hard to get the approval and
love of those around them. Hmm, sounds familiar. Where a savior complex will puff one up and make
them think themselves a god-like being, bipolar disorder will pull in the other
direction and make him think that he’s not good enough. So he must worship her
and pamper to her. But she is already feeling so depressed. What to do?
Perhaps,
Frankenstein Sr. didn’t have full out bipolar disorder, but he did have a
savior complex and Victor’s mother was now ripe for depression to set in.
Caroline could have easily developed depression too from the trauma of the life
they must have lived while her father was running around avoiding debt and the
law. This could have planted the seeds for her own depression or bipolar
disorder which leads to her own savior complex and saving of Elizabeth (Victor's later wife) later.
These are the people Victor is surrounded by. Notice we haven't even gotten to Vic yet? Yeah, that's how far back scientists and those psychologist like to look.
To
alleviate the utter darkness in the Frankenstein home, Mr. and Mrs.
Frankenstein start to travel (Shelley 29). No, really, it says that they were so down in the dumps they had to go on vacation. Amidst all of this, Victor is born
away from home and is the brunt for all their mixed up emotions as he is an
only child for some time (Shelley 29). He is now of course in Erikson’s stage
of Trust versus Mistrust. During his first years, they still traveled and he
says, “it was in their hands to direct happiness or misery, according as they
fulfilled their duties towards me” (Shelley 29). Bummer! The words that stand out apart
from happiness are the directing of misery he speaks of. Is there a possibility
that his parents were not always as sane as they should have been towards baby
Victor? He may have had reason to mistrust his parents and begin to isolate
himself from them.
With
two bipolar parents now saddled with a child, the chances of Victor being
ignored or even abused are high. This means that during his sensitive stages
all the way through Erikson’s Autonomy versus Shame to Initiative versus Guilt
phase (three to five years of age), he was the only thing around to receive the
brunt of his father and mother’s mood swings and their outlandish behavior. The
evidence later of his own mental disorders could be signs that he has repressed
bad memories of his parents. From here, Victor will inherit his own disorder.
According to the Ohio State University Medical Center, depression and bipolar
disorder can run in the family. From this point on, Victor will begin his own
downward spiral of disorders. He will displace his rage at his parents onto
someone he can own and possess. Controlling others will help him cope, he
thinks. So, like, get a dog or something, right?
Over
and over it says that his parents were good and gave and gave. That is how his
father came to marry his mother Caroline. When they go back to Italy they visit
the houses of the poor all the time: “Their benevolent disposition often made
them enter the cottages of the poor. This to my mother was more than duty; it
was necessity, a passion” (Shelley 29). This shows that they have that guilt complex
also common in bipolar disorders. They feel guilty for what they have so they
visit the poor all the time. Dr. Susan Whitebourne of the University of
Massachusetts links it back to Freud: “The psychodynamic theory of Freud
proposes that we build defense mechanisms to protect us from the guilt we would
experience if we knew just how awful our awful desires really were.
Specifically, Freud linked the feeling of guilt” (Whitebourne). His mother had
suffered her traumatized past and was now displacing her grief onto the poor.
In
this poor neighborhood, Caroline Frankenstein comes across a little English
girl named Elizabeth who she decides to take under her wing while Mr.
Frankenstein is out of town on business. Caroline’s savior complex and guilt
come in again when she sees little Elizabeth in such poverty. “…but it would be
unfair to her to keep her in poverty and want, when Providence afforded her
such powerful protection” (Shelley 30). She's totally Batman.
When
Caroline brings Elizabeth home, she says to Victor “I have a pretty present for
my Victor—tomorrow he shall have it” and he replies, “I, with childish
seriousness, interpreted her words literally, and looked upon Elizabeth as
mine…since till death she was to be mine only.” (Shelly 31). Possessive much, dude? At the end of
chapter one (yeah, still chapter one!), Victor is in full possession of Elizabeth and is being influenced
for Erikson’s next stage of Industry versus Inferiority. His mother gave him
something to possess and he has now started to morph into his controlling-womb-envying-savior-complex
self. He has been given something (Elizabeth) since he was five years old to be
master of and he is used to this high throne of authority, which could lead to
his creation of the monster and his later projection of anger on the creature
when it defies him and makes himself the master putting Victor in a place
inferior to the monster.
Victor
grows up over the next chapter where we can see his lust for control takes on
the guise of knowledge. In Chapter II, he leaves Elizabeth behind when he wants
more intellectual things: “Elizabeth was of a calmer and more concentrated
disposition; but with all my ardour, I was capable of a more intense
application, and was more deeply smitten with the thirst for knowledge”
(Shelley 32). By this point, he would probably be in Erikson’s Stage of
Industry VS. Inferiority and getting to move into Identity versus Role
Confusing. He wants knowledge over Elizabeth’s companionship especially since
he probably can no longer control her every move. She is inferior and he must
now find out who he is.
He
turns to the ultimate complex device for knowledge and dominance over: Nature.
He sees nature as a challenge that must be accepted. It holds secretes and he
must uncover them or he will not be seen as “smart”—as Erikson would say, he
would feel inferior. He is indeed in this stage because his brother is born
“seven years in junior” and his parents become more depressed and give up on
their wondering life, which may have been escapism and now they have to be tied
down (Shelley 32). Things just get worse from there on out. His parent’s live
in seclusion in the country now. And it was in his temper to avoid a crowd. He is
anti-social as we will see in the later chapters when he goes to school.
We
can see examples of his anti-social self in contrast with his best friend Henry
Celrval. Henry is the opposite of Victor in that he loved stories of knights,
tales of enchantment and he also loved danger for danger’s sake (Shelley 32,
33). This could infer that Henry is very outgoing and outspoken. Just the right person to get on Victor's nerves.
On
the other hand, Victor’s temper, he says, was sometimes violent. In a large,
revealing chunk of text, Victor confesses, “My temper was sometimes violent,
and my passions vehement; but by some law in my temperature they were turned,
not towards childish pursuits, but to an eager desire to learn” (Shelley 33). This
could be his reaction to his thoughts and feelings that come with bipolar
disorder. He doesn’t know how to deal with them and all his parents do is spoil
him, which is not what he wants. He says he was violent and vehement and yet
those feelings were turned towards knowledge. This could show where he is angry
that he doesn’t understand himself and his feelings. So he feels the need to
learn about them. But it isn’t simple things like politics and government that
attracted his pursuits, no those things would be too simple for
high-functioning Victor. He wants to learn “the secrets of heaven and earth”
(Shelley 33).
From
a high flying temper and violence, Victor then plummets into what psychologist
say is the depression side of bipolar disorder. “I might have become sullen in
my study, rough through the ardour of my nature, but that she was there to
subdue me to a semblance of her own gentleness”; simply, he raves, is angry,
violent and then falls into sullen moods where he is probably locked away in
his room being moody and only Elizabeth can sooth him and sometimes Henry as
well (Shelley 33).
Another
example of Victor’s strong anti-social behavior can be seen on the next pages
when they go to a party where he also discovers the books that will set him on
fire for his passions of the ultimate knowledge and even a search for the
Elixir of Life and immortality.
When
Victor is thirteen years old and approaching another phase of Erikson’s growth
chart: Identity versus Role Confusion is in full swing as Victor makes contact
with books that will inspire his studies. The family goes to Thonon, a resort
in France, and is confined to an inn there due to the weather. This upsets
Victor no doubt because of his antisocial tendencies and so he does what any
knowledge-craving boy his age would have done: he sits down with a book to read
and avoid the people. Victor reads a book by Cornelius Agrippa and “a new light
seemed to dawn upon my mind” (Shelley 34). Victor runs to his father, excited
about his finding only to be brushed off by his father. When a depressed person
gets brushed aside, they either let go or retaliate with a fierceness that
cannot be guessed (Wexner). Trust me, I know...Victor did the later.
“If
instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me that the
principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded…I should certainly have thrown
Agrippa aside” (Shelley 34). If his
father had explained it, perhaps Victor would not have delved so deeply and
largely into the well of unknown sciences and gone on to other studies. But his
father suffers from the same disorders as Victor and could not be bothered to
give an explanation to his young, energetic son. Perhaps Victor was more
frightening when excited about scientific things his father had no idea how to
handle and thus Frankenstein Sr. had no other defense mechanism but to try to
shut Victor down.
Victor
hits fifteen and is still in Erikson’s Identity Vs. Role Confusion stage while
he eats away at the hunger for knowledge. He is high-functioning and never
satisfied at this point. The quest for knowledge had inflated his head even
more as he pursued higher levels of writings: “they appeared to me treasures
known to few besides myself…Those of his successors in each branch of natural
philosophy with whom I was acquainted appeared, even to me boy’s apprehensions,
as tyros engaged in the same pursuit” (Shelley 35). Here Victor is saying that
he is the only one who knows about this great knowledge. No one else could know,
especially no one else his age. And now, he has studied so long that the
writings of other great scientists are like novices compared to what he knows.
But sadly, he was left to struggle with a child’s blindness (Shelly 35). He has
no one there with him as is often the case with manic depressive people, which
only adds to the aggravation of the condition (Wexner). Victor’s symptoms and
behaviors have gone on too long untreated just as his parents have and which he
has been exposed to while floating in this delusion of grandeur.
He
moves to pursue things greater than this physical life; “the elixir of life;
but soon the latter soon obtained my undivided attention. Wealth was in
inferior object; but what glory would attend the discovery, if I could banish
disease from the human frame” (Shelley 36). This coupled with his next pursuit
of trying to contact ghosts and devils which he eagerly sought shows his
descent into madness. When one begins to rave and delve too deeply into things
usually seen in society’s eyes as odd and not normal, one is normally described
as mad. They begin “reasoning with insufficient data or rigidly defending the
wrong theory” (Daw). Thus, all Victor needs is one more push and he will be
over the proverbial edge.
When the lightning storm strikes at the end of
chapter two, Victor then moves on to school in Ingolstadt. He is about to enter
into the young adult phase for Erikson and Intimacy Vs. Isolation and it is
ironically the last stage of his life. His mother dies no doubt causing a
massive trauma to young Victor. He is delicately on the verge of pure insanity
at this point as he is in need of intimacy more than ever. His mother has died and
he is young and unbalanced according to Erikson. He must mingle with people if
he is to survive. But he does not. When Victor is in the Intimacy Vs Isolation
Stage of Erikson’s theory, he shuts himself away instead of spending time with
Henry and making friends at school with his mates. He has no one “worthy of my
consideration” (Shelley 37). Boy, do I know that feeling.
Henry
sees the signs which are evident when he tries to pursued his own father to
allow him to accompany Victor to school (Shelley 39). Victor’s determination is
seen just before this when he insists that even though his mother is dead, he
still had duties to attend to and perform (Shelley 39). Finally, Victor states,
“I threw myself in to the chaise that was to convey me away… I was now alone”
(Shelley 40). He has reached the height of what he desired: He is alone and in
a realm of smart-things and people where he can run rampant with his
experiments. He is depressed, swinging from manic and back, never learned to
control himself, and suffers from grandeur and a savior complex. There is
nothing left but for him to do the ultimate act and creat life. He met a
professor who would, unknowingly give him all he needed to finish off his mad
desires:
“He then took me into
his laboratory and explained to me the uses of his various machines,
instructing me as to what I ought to procure and promising me the use of his
own when I should have advanced far enough in the science not to derange their
mechanism. He also gave me the list of books which I had requested, and I took
my leave. Thus ended a day memorable to me; it decided my future destiny.”
From
here, Victor goes on to gather dead bodies and try his best to create life.
This last act of his nearly sane mind could have been his ultimate hate: it
would seem the only thing Victor could not do is create life. He tried to call
to the dead, attempted the elixir of life, learned all he could about science
and yet there was nothing that would make him a god. His nature was nurtured
into a high level of savior complex and fed anger by his bipolar disorder
causing him to think he had no other goal than to creat life.
Whatever trauma his
parents may have caused him in his childhood he has shut out, but it has led to
his pursuit of perfection and ultimate control over his and other’s lives. His
youth shows that he sought solitude and projected his anger onto others,
particularly Elizabeth and Henry. Victor sought control and got it but his
high-functioning, nearly sociopathic mind was not satisfied until he had reached so
far that he fell over the edge.A fun Biblio incase you wanna check it out for yourself:
Daw, Jennifer. "Why
and How Normal People Go Mad." Http://www.apa.org. American
Psychological Association, Nov. 2002. Web. 27 Nov. 2013.
Dr. Daw discusses in a brief essay the reasons
that can cause people, normal and productive, to drop off the edge into
clinical insanity. She describes the descent as one that can be triggered by
many things but mostly as blows to one’s self esteem. She warns against false
madness cues and discusses in brief biological reasons for madness.
Diamond, Stephen, Dr.
"Messiahs of Evil (Part Three)." Psychology Today. Sussex
Publishers,
20
May 2008. Web. 26 Nov. 2013.
Dr. Diamond discusses a theory about how fanatic
religious leaders from all over the globe could possibly have had a messiah
complex. He informs the reader of the definition of a true messaiah complex and
likens it to delusions of grandeur. He also provides research in Jung and
Erikson’s theories.
Erikson, Erik.
"Erikson's Psychosocial Stages Summary Chart." Erikson's
Psychosocial Stages
Summary Chart. Ed.
Kendra Cherry, Dr. About.com, Web. 25 Nov. 2013.
A summary chart of Erikson’s theories with
hyperlined examples and further discussion. For the essay, simple the names and
order were taken from this chart.
Martin, Chris. The
Scientist. Coldplay. Rec. 2001. Ken Nelson, 2002. MP3.
The song about a man who loves but cannot identify the feeling as it
cannot be explained by science so he considers giving up or just going without it.
Title was used as well as the line “pulling the puzzle apart” to symbolize
Victor’s diagnosis as bipolar.
Shelley, Mary
Wollstonecraft. Frankenstein, Or, The Modern Prometheus. New York:
Barnes
and Nobel, 2003. Print. Barnes and Nobel Classics.
An annotated version of the original classic
with essays and historical clips in the back of the book for further study.
Wexner Medical Center.
"Manic Depression / Bipolar Disorder." Wexner Medical Center.
Ohio
State University, Web. 26 Nov. 2013.
The University of Ohio’s medical page for
students who think they may be, or no someone who may be, suffering from
depression or bipolar disorder. It gives symptoms, cures, and therapies. It
also discusses in depth how such illnesses can be passed or spread through
prolonged exposure.
Whitebourne, Susuan, Dr.
"The Definitive Guide to Guilt." Psychology Today. Sussex
Publishers, 11 Aug. 2012. Web. 26 Nov. 2013.
Dr. Whitebourne gives a
different look at guilt in this short essay. Rather than explain how people
manipulate a person, she explains what people plagued with guilt do. She
explains how people afflicted with guilt live their lives and how they see
tasks before them as essential to curing their guilt. She also likens it to the
psychodynamic theory of Freud.
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