OK, last chance to get into the movie business.
I first tried getting you to imagine your own life as a feature length film back on May 15. To grease your creative wheels, I even humiliated myself in that post, providing some choice cinematic moments from the life of yours truly. Despite my self-abasement, no one took the initial bait.
http://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2013/05/action.html
Tried a different tack on July 5 asking instead for nominations of people other than yourself fit for the role of hero or heroine of our imaginary film. Comments from the second post at least produced one notable hero - a drill sergeant a la "Officer and A Gentleman". And that reader even provided casting - Denzel Washington as the sergeant and Brad Pitt as the grunt - nice. Other nominees from Take 2? A pyromaniac bassist and a cat. Come on people, work with me here.
http://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2013/07/take-2-andaction.html
So, if your own life has provided too few ready-for-closeup moments and nobody you've known comes to mind as a hero or heroine, how about a villain? Who in your life has been despicable enough to qualify as the bad guy in our film? No names or identifying markers are necessary, just give me and others some juicy details so we can get a vicarious thrill. If just one person responds to this post, I'll spill the beans on my personal Mephistopheles; you won't be disappointed.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
Picky, Picky, Picky
If you belong to any book clubs, how do you assess which ones meet your needs? Full disclosure: I attended my first book club meeting in June 2010 ("Brooklyn" by Colm Toibin), so I'm fairly new to the game, although I've since been in and out of twelve clubs, with my longest continual participation in one club now approaching three years. Though at present I regularly attend meetings for six clubs, some of those are destined to drop off, based on my needs (below) or unforeseen variables.
1.) For me, leaders must be discerning readers skilled at asking pure questions (i.e. those they do not have ready answers for). Said leaders should pick the books, giving ample advance notice, and be willing (but not obligated) to take suggestions from members.
http://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2011/11/parenting-book-clubs-democracy.html
2.) Groups must be big enough that non-participation in any meeting discussion does not stand out.
3.) Any processes used in meetings must remain flexible. For example, members must be able to opt out of "rating" books ("I liked it"/"I didn't"; "I give it a 1-5", etc.) if they choose.
The ideal club for picky, picky, picky me: One with all of the above, reading a mix of fiction and non-fiction and a leader who attempts to keep profound pronouncements and side conversations to a minimum. Recommendations are welcome; location is unimportant.
1.) For me, leaders must be discerning readers skilled at asking pure questions (i.e. those they do not have ready answers for). Said leaders should pick the books, giving ample advance notice, and be willing (but not obligated) to take suggestions from members.
http://reflectionsfromthebellcurve.blogspot.com/2011/11/parenting-book-clubs-democracy.html
2.) Groups must be big enough that non-participation in any meeting discussion does not stand out.
3.) Any processes used in meetings must remain flexible. For example, members must be able to opt out of "rating" books ("I liked it"/"I didn't"; "I give it a 1-5", etc.) if they choose.
The ideal club for picky, picky, picky me: One with all of the above, reading a mix of fiction and non-fiction and a leader who attempts to keep profound pronouncements and side conversations to a minimum. Recommendations are welcome; location is unimportant.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Irvington, NJ: 1959
What was the first message about race you recall ever receiving?
I've largely avoided this on my blog, mostly because three or four brief paragraphs risks trivializing such an important subject. But close on the heels of the Trayvon Martin verdict was all that media coverage about the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington and ML King's seminal speech. Then last night I saw "The Butler".
I was about ten years old. My mother and I were buying milk from a street vending machine near my childhood home. Standing about 10 yards away was a black man; I recall that him standing nearby made me nervous. After the machine discharged our milk, my mother and the man exchanged a polite hello. As we walked away the man approached the machine to make his purchase.
The very brief conversation my Mother and I had following that innocuous encounter went something like this: "Mom, that colored man was not bad". "No, Patrick, not all of them are bad". Although this is the first conversation I recall ever having about race, it was not my first message - my nervousness standing at that milk machine points to earlier messages received. I'm still unsure what my ten year old mind took away from that conversation with my mother.
I've largely avoided this on my blog, mostly because three or four brief paragraphs risks trivializing such an important subject. But close on the heels of the Trayvon Martin verdict was all that media coverage about the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington and ML King's seminal speech. Then last night I saw "The Butler".
I was about ten years old. My mother and I were buying milk from a street vending machine near my childhood home. Standing about 10 yards away was a black man; I recall that him standing nearby made me nervous. After the machine discharged our milk, my mother and the man exchanged a polite hello. As we walked away the man approached the machine to make his purchase.
The very brief conversation my Mother and I had following that innocuous encounter went something like this: "Mom, that colored man was not bad". "No, Patrick, not all of them are bad". Although this is the first conversation I recall ever having about race, it was not my first message - my nervousness standing at that milk machine points to earlier messages received. I'm still unsure what my ten year old mind took away from that conversation with my mother.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
A Temporary Solution
To what do you turn to shake yourself up a bit?
Although complacency and comfort have their place, I question how much I'm learning when long periods have elapsed without any significant jolts to my routine. Being in a quiet cycle like that right now, I noticed how opposing words have been arguing with each other in my head the past few weeks. For example -
Am I in a groove or...a rut?
Am I feeling mellow or...smug?
And always, there is that fine line. Seeking out people or experiences that go way off the path entails immense risk. But habit and ritual becoming the default mode is deadening to my creativity.
Soon after posting this, I'll put on Joe Jackson's "Right" and play it so loud the paint peels. Not the complete solution but the extreme volume mixed with the profanity and indignation in his song will shake me up, at least a little. Better than nothing.
Although complacency and comfort have their place, I question how much I'm learning when long periods have elapsed without any significant jolts to my routine. Being in a quiet cycle like that right now, I noticed how opposing words have been arguing with each other in my head the past few weeks. For example -
Am I in a groove or...a rut?
Am I feeling mellow or...smug?
And always, there is that fine line. Seeking out people or experiences that go way off the path entails immense risk. But habit and ritual becoming the default mode is deadening to my creativity.
Soon after posting this, I'll put on Joe Jackson's "Right" and play it so loud the paint peels. Not the complete solution but the extreme volume mixed with the profanity and indignation in his song will shake me up, at least a little. Better than nothing.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
The Retreat of Mr. Id
"The best authors are those whose writing is easy to understand".
No regular reader of my blog will be surprised to know how frequently I interact with librarians. When recommending Nina Sankovitch's "Tolstoy And The Purple Chair" to one of them recently I innocently commented how the writing in this memoir was simple but highly effective. Her response to my comment was the statement above. What's your reaction, if any, to her statement? Put another way, when an author is not easy to understand, how much impact does that have on your assessment of their talent?
My gentle push back to the librarian's statement was accepted with grace. This wasn't surprising; she is intelligent and uncharacteristically, I had chosen my words carefully. But despite my atypical tact and our polite interchange, the encounter has replayed in my head several times. And my doppelganger Mr. Id has been hovering nearby whispering to me - Best?
Before putting Mr. Id back in his dungeon, many past conversations with others sharing this librarian's sentiment about music, art, film, and literature rumbled in my head. Then a contrasting statement (paraphrased below) an old friend made when we were discussing, of all things, the drummer in the White Stripes, gave me enough solace to banish the old coot, at least for now.
"Don't equate 'I don't like it' with 'It's not good' ". Now those are sentiments even Mr. Id can abide.
No regular reader of my blog will be surprised to know how frequently I interact with librarians. When recommending Nina Sankovitch's "Tolstoy And The Purple Chair" to one of them recently I innocently commented how the writing in this memoir was simple but highly effective. Her response to my comment was the statement above. What's your reaction, if any, to her statement? Put another way, when an author is not easy to understand, how much impact does that have on your assessment of their talent?
My gentle push back to the librarian's statement was accepted with grace. This wasn't surprising; she is intelligent and uncharacteristically, I had chosen my words carefully. But despite my atypical tact and our polite interchange, the encounter has replayed in my head several times. And my doppelganger Mr. Id has been hovering nearby whispering to me - Best?
Before putting Mr. Id back in his dungeon, many past conversations with others sharing this librarian's sentiment about music, art, film, and literature rumbled in my head. Then a contrasting statement (paraphrased below) an old friend made when we were discussing, of all things, the drummer in the White Stripes, gave me enough solace to banish the old coot, at least for now.
"Don't equate 'I don't like it' with 'It's not good' ". Now those are sentiments even Mr. Id can abide.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
The Politics Behind Door #1
The sub-title of "Triangle: The Fire That Changed America" telegraphs the central premise of journalist David Von Drehle's 2003 riveting account of the fire that took 146 lives in a NYC shirtwaist factory on March 25, 1911. In this author's view, that avoidable tragedy was a catalyst for many progressive workplace reforms that followed.
Given the horrendous workplace conditions existing in developing world sweatshops producing inexpensive goods for the modern age, I can readily envision book titles in the near future that need only replace a few words. How about "Nike: The Fire That Changed India"? or "Apple: The Building Collapse That Changed Malaysia"? That leads me to reflect: Is progressive a dirty word in those countries right now as it was in pre-Triangle America? And, how did America revert to the word being dirty a century later?
Reading a book like Von Drehle's reminded me of a few of the quaint notions progressive politics has given us - fire safety, child labor laws, scaling the work week back from 84 hours. Conserving the status quo in 1910 America meant 84 hour work weeks for 14 year olds (the youngest victim of the fire) in demonstrably unsafe buildings. Progress or conserve? When this talented author draws a straight line to the many other progressive reforms that followed on the heels of the Triangle Fire, and groups aligned with those reforms like the Suffragists and early advocates of the New Deal, I choose door #1.
Given the horrendous workplace conditions existing in developing world sweatshops producing inexpensive goods for the modern age, I can readily envision book titles in the near future that need only replace a few words. How about "Nike: The Fire That Changed India"? or "Apple: The Building Collapse That Changed Malaysia"? That leads me to reflect: Is progressive a dirty word in those countries right now as it was in pre-Triangle America? And, how did America revert to the word being dirty a century later?
Reading a book like Von Drehle's reminded me of a few of the quaint notions progressive politics has given us - fire safety, child labor laws, scaling the work week back from 84 hours. Conserving the status quo in 1910 America meant 84 hour work weeks for 14 year olds (the youngest victim of the fire) in demonstrably unsafe buildings. Progress or conserve? When this talented author draws a straight line to the many other progressive reforms that followed on the heels of the Triangle Fire, and groups aligned with those reforms like the Suffragists and early advocates of the New Deal, I choose door #1.
Monday, September 2, 2013
The Metaphor & The Reality Check
"A few years ago I tossed my life into a blender and turned it up to high".
What event or circumstance from your life is conjured by this muscular metaphor?
When an old friend said this a few days back, I was instantly catapulted back to my arrest a little over two years ago. I vividly recalled how my mind raced through the potential ramifications of my rash act while sitting handcuffed in the police station. I remembered the months that followed - how people commiserated, saying they might have done the same thing given the circumstances - how that helped only until the possibility of a civil action came back front and center. Suddenly, the cost of defending a principle was more than I was willing to pay. Talk about a reality check.
After the possibility of civil action dissipated on August 15 and I wrote a purging post about not recognizing myself that dismal day two years ago, all was going smoothly. That is, until my friend's life in a blender metaphor.
What event or circumstance from your life is conjured by this muscular metaphor?
When an old friend said this a few days back, I was instantly catapulted back to my arrest a little over two years ago. I vividly recalled how my mind raced through the potential ramifications of my rash act while sitting handcuffed in the police station. I remembered the months that followed - how people commiserated, saying they might have done the same thing given the circumstances - how that helped only until the possibility of a civil action came back front and center. Suddenly, the cost of defending a principle was more than I was willing to pay. Talk about a reality check.
After the possibility of civil action dissipated on August 15 and I wrote a purging post about not recognizing myself that dismal day two years ago, all was going smoothly. That is, until my friend's life in a blender metaphor.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Not A Rant, Maybe Not Even A Post
It's easy deciding what to write about except on the days it is not. On those days it's hard although there are exceptions. Ambivalence is difficult to escape though certainty is hardly a panacea.
After settling on a subject, I don't waver unless something more compelling occurs to me. Following an earlier conversation, writing today about the challenges of remaining objective seemed the right choice until I began outlining my thoughts and noticed the qualifiers creeping into my positions. Those qualifiers are insidious, while also obvious when paying close attention. Still, they remain even when I attempt to reduce their equivocating effect or, try to hide them in a sentence.
On the other hand, how can they be avoided? However hard I work at eliminating qualifiers, without any ambivalence, what comes out is a rant. Nothing wrong with rants provided I give up expecting anyone to read me. Would be nice to say I'd post anyway if that were the case, but that's a lie.
After settling on a subject, I don't waver unless something more compelling occurs to me. Following an earlier conversation, writing today about the challenges of remaining objective seemed the right choice until I began outlining my thoughts and noticed the qualifiers creeping into my positions. Those qualifiers are insidious, while also obvious when paying close attention. Still, they remain even when I attempt to reduce their equivocating effect or, try to hide them in a sentence.
On the other hand, how can they be avoided? However hard I work at eliminating qualifiers, without any ambivalence, what comes out is a rant. Nothing wrong with rants provided I give up expecting anyone to read me. Would be nice to say I'd post anyway if that were the case, but that's a lie.
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