So, one of the reasons I created this doggone blog was so that I might offer some creative contribution to the world. The problem is that it is becoming increasingly clear that I am not a wellspring of creativity.
My original intent was to write a post today entitled "The Tale of my Tat(too)," but I realized it was going to take far more imagination than I thought due to the fact that I was intoxicated throughout the acquisition of my tat. Hence, the details are a bit blurry. So for the time being, scratch that.
Not to be deterred, though, and determined to stimulate my pea-brain, I have consulted my "Complete Idiot's Guide to Creative Writing" for solutions. I flipped through the book (literally... I don't think I actually read a single thing), and determined that I was too lazy to extract any wisdom from it. So I'm resorting to the ol' free-writing, instead.
Thus, this particular post will be overwhelmingly incoherent and meaningless. Enjoy.
I've felt for the past few days like I'm coming down with a cold. I'm dizzy and feel a bit disoriented, and I can't really concentrate. I'm actually quite pleased with this, because I've decided to use it as an excuse for not doing my readings for my classes tomorrow. Instead, I've gathered all of my mental acumen to peruse urbandictionary.com. I highly recommend the site's assorted definitions of "jorts." I also learned an exciting new word: "hogbeast." One described as a hogbeast is (paraphrased) a female so utterly vile that no amount of alcohol or other abused substances could viably excuse an 'encounter' with her. The definition itself is not nearly as fabulous to me as the word itself. I'm kind of peeved that I didn't come up with it myself.
Hogbeast will probably be incorporated into my slew of insults that I reserve as pet names for my closest friends. My dear friend Trent, whom I've affectionately dubbed a variety of unspeakably crass names over the last six years, will be an excellent candidate for this name. I'm sure he will reciprocate with something equally horrid.
I'm not gonna lie: even free-writing is straining me right now. I am painfully tempted to watch 7 episodes of NBC's The Office back-to-back while stalking all the characters on IMDB. My boyfriend and I have become spookily knowledgeable about the show. For example: did you know that John Krasinski ("Jim") is the youngest and shortest of three brothers, standing at 6'3"? His older brothers, both of whom are doctors, are 6'6" and 6'10". He also wears a wig for a large part of the third season of the show, because he was shooting a movie with George Clooney called Leatherheads.
Okay, I'm done here. Disregard this post entirely, please.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Recreational Reading
Today, I purchased a Nicholas Sparks novel. Approximately my eighth Nicholas Sparks novel, in fact.
I understand that this makes me horribly cliche, a label which I attempt to skillfully avoid at all costs. And of course, to make matters worse, I am a library student, and should love all things literary, such as 19th century British Women's Literature or the Romanticists or Classicists and all the other assorted literary genres which I'm convinced I'll never keep straight, no matter how long I may work in libraries. But I have to be honest... when I want to sit down at the end of the day and lose myself in a book, I love me some John Grisham, Jodi Picoult, and yes, Nicholas Sparks. And I'll admit it: I loved The Da Vinci Code. I read it in one day.
However, I get the vibe from many people bookish--librarians, book store entrepreneurs and employees, and various self-righteous readers--that this is not acceptable leisurely reading. Or at least not "important" enough reading. "Important" reading would be Faulkner, Austen, Tolstoy, and the like. The big names in the literary world. These are books that people can comfortably call "classics" because someone else, a very long time ago, made some master list of books we should all regard as ingeniously written and superior to all others. All else is fluff, says list-maker.
Now, let me be clear: my intent here is not to slam these "important" authors or their works. I've enjoyed several of them. Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye" is one of my personal favorites... but that could be largely because I enjoy the excessive profanity. I also love Hugo's "Les Miserables," and appreciate its political significance in its era... but let's face it, that's a BEAST of a book. You've got to sit down with serious intent to read something like that. If you've got that drive to do it, though, you discover a wonderful, intricate, and socially impactful plot, not to mention an historical snapshot of the era. But I would hardly call any sort of reading that requires one to "buckle down" recreational. Although Les Mis makes one damn fine musical theater production.
My intent, then, is to slam people who read said important authors and works, paraphrase someone else's book review in an attempt to fool people into thinking they have original feedback about the work, and walk around yammering about how smart and worldly they are for having read these titles. And of course, tell one of these folks you picked up a Grisham novel, and you're in for a literary chastising.
Another caveat: I don't mean to imply that Grisham, Picoult, or Sparks are "unimportant" authors. They are just popular, in the true sense of the word, which, traditionally, the 'worldly readers' avoid, assuming books produced by popular novelists have no substance. But if I may say so, the books are popular for a reason. They're good. People like to read them. How novel. (No pun intended.)
I'm not saying that my Nicholas Sparks book is going to change me or teach me an important new life lesson. But by God, I'm going to enjoy it. Hence, recreational reading.
Curse you, snobby readers.
I understand that this makes me horribly cliche, a label which I attempt to skillfully avoid at all costs. And of course, to make matters worse, I am a library student, and should love all things literary, such as 19th century British Women's Literature or the Romanticists or Classicists and all the other assorted literary genres which I'm convinced I'll never keep straight, no matter how long I may work in libraries. But I have to be honest... when I want to sit down at the end of the day and lose myself in a book, I love me some John Grisham, Jodi Picoult, and yes, Nicholas Sparks. And I'll admit it: I loved The Da Vinci Code. I read it in one day.
However, I get the vibe from many people bookish--librarians, book store entrepreneurs and employees, and various self-righteous readers--that this is not acceptable leisurely reading. Or at least not "important" enough reading. "Important" reading would be Faulkner, Austen, Tolstoy, and the like. The big names in the literary world. These are books that people can comfortably call "classics" because someone else, a very long time ago, made some master list of books we should all regard as ingeniously written and superior to all others. All else is fluff, says list-maker.
Now, let me be clear: my intent here is not to slam these "important" authors or their works. I've enjoyed several of them. Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye" is one of my personal favorites... but that could be largely because I enjoy the excessive profanity. I also love Hugo's "Les Miserables," and appreciate its political significance in its era... but let's face it, that's a BEAST of a book. You've got to sit down with serious intent to read something like that. If you've got that drive to do it, though, you discover a wonderful, intricate, and socially impactful plot, not to mention an historical snapshot of the era. But I would hardly call any sort of reading that requires one to "buckle down" recreational. Although Les Mis makes one damn fine musical theater production.
My intent, then, is to slam people who read said important authors and works, paraphrase someone else's book review in an attempt to fool people into thinking they have original feedback about the work, and walk around yammering about how smart and worldly they are for having read these titles. And of course, tell one of these folks you picked up a Grisham novel, and you're in for a literary chastising.
Another caveat: I don't mean to imply that Grisham, Picoult, or Sparks are "unimportant" authors. They are just popular, in the true sense of the word, which, traditionally, the 'worldly readers' avoid, assuming books produced by popular novelists have no substance. But if I may say so, the books are popular for a reason. They're good. People like to read them. How novel. (No pun intended.)
I'm not saying that my Nicholas Sparks book is going to change me or teach me an important new life lesson. But by God, I'm going to enjoy it. Hence, recreational reading.
Curse you, snobby readers.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
so it begins
well, i decided to create a blog.
this is suprising, as i've looked at blogs--and bloggers--with great disdain for quite a long time, at least in most cases. i've just never understood why one would choose to write his or her most personal affairs, usually along with other people's most personal affairs, and then make it accessible to internet users worldwide. then, of course, said blogger becomes shocked and offended when a friend/significant other/someone who hated you to begin with but just reads the blog for purposes of mockery becomes disgruntled when their private lives are made public by ol' lame blog mcghee. not awesome. i imagine one with a blog as such is only seeking attention.
needless to say, this blog will not be one of that nature.
however, i do fully and greedily admit that i seek attention. my dream would be for all of you to read my literary ditties and shower me with praise of my wit, sarcasm, irony, and poignance in writing, thus encouraging me to submit my entries for publication. i also desire your hearty concurrence with me regarding my hatred for jorts, braided leather belts and short-sleeved men's dress shirts, to name a few. i hope to enlighten you with my intuitive synopses of religious, political, and moral issues, as well as whatever else about which i may choose to assert an opinion. simply put, i plan to successfully promote all things me. all of my -isms, if you will. hence: ballyhoo.
ballyhoo, for those who don't share my passion for ridiculous, obscured words, is pretty much blatant advertising or promotion--usually with great noisiness. or, as a verb, it would be to noisily (or perhaps even obnoxiously) promote something. so here i am, ballyhooing.
now, chances are that those of you reading this masterpiece will not find me funny, intuitive, or intelligent. in fact, this blog will probably become that which i mentioned above: one that you read not because you think its cool, but more for the purposes of mockery. and i'm ok with that. i'm sure i will try way too hard to make it sound cool and wordy, and you might find me mean and judgmental. you can tell me that. it will be duly noted.
truth be told, though, while i hope you do find this blog hip and funny and that you like my ideas, i admit that i am doing this primarily as a way to practice my own writing skills, and welcome comments. but don't be a jerkneck, k? i will go ahead and give the disclaimer that it's not my intent to offend anyone, but let's face it: if i (or anyone, for that matter) actually tried not to do so, i would just sit there and grin stupidly and never express an opinion about anything, whether it be same sex marriage or neckties with wolves printed all over them.
so if you want to respond to a post, go for it... but don't be all redneck and hateful about it. responses for the sake of intelligent, mind expanding conversation only, please. while i am out to ballyhoo, i would also very much like to hear what you have to say.
ok, tally ho! (not to be confused with ballyhoo... but that, too...)
this is suprising, as i've looked at blogs--and bloggers--with great disdain for quite a long time, at least in most cases. i've just never understood why one would choose to write his or her most personal affairs, usually along with other people's most personal affairs, and then make it accessible to internet users worldwide. then, of course, said blogger becomes shocked and offended when a friend/significant other/someone who hated you to begin with but just reads the blog for purposes of mockery becomes disgruntled when their private lives are made public by ol' lame blog mcghee. not awesome. i imagine one with a blog as such is only seeking attention.
needless to say, this blog will not be one of that nature.
however, i do fully and greedily admit that i seek attention. my dream would be for all of you to read my literary ditties and shower me with praise of my wit, sarcasm, irony, and poignance in writing, thus encouraging me to submit my entries for publication. i also desire your hearty concurrence with me regarding my hatred for jorts, braided leather belts and short-sleeved men's dress shirts, to name a few. i hope to enlighten you with my intuitive synopses of religious, political, and moral issues, as well as whatever else about which i may choose to assert an opinion. simply put, i plan to successfully promote all things me. all of my -isms, if you will. hence: ballyhoo.
ballyhoo, for those who don't share my passion for ridiculous, obscured words, is pretty much blatant advertising or promotion--usually with great noisiness. or, as a verb, it would be to noisily (or perhaps even obnoxiously) promote something. so here i am, ballyhooing.
now, chances are that those of you reading this masterpiece will not find me funny, intuitive, or intelligent. in fact, this blog will probably become that which i mentioned above: one that you read not because you think its cool, but more for the purposes of mockery. and i'm ok with that. i'm sure i will try way too hard to make it sound cool and wordy, and you might find me mean and judgmental. you can tell me that. it will be duly noted.
truth be told, though, while i hope you do find this blog hip and funny and that you like my ideas, i admit that i am doing this primarily as a way to practice my own writing skills, and welcome comments. but don't be a jerkneck, k? i will go ahead and give the disclaimer that it's not my intent to offend anyone, but let's face it: if i (or anyone, for that matter) actually tried not to do so, i would just sit there and grin stupidly and never express an opinion about anything, whether it be same sex marriage or neckties with wolves printed all over them.
so if you want to respond to a post, go for it... but don't be all redneck and hateful about it. responses for the sake of intelligent, mind expanding conversation only, please. while i am out to ballyhoo, i would also very much like to hear what you have to say.
ok, tally ho! (not to be confused with ballyhoo... but that, too...)
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