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Showing posts with label Random rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random rants. Show all posts

Friday, May 27, 2011

When did things start to suck so much?

I'll say it once I'll say it twice: Facebook sucks. And yet I remain on the idiotic site as if I were to leave I would lose all my friends and any semblance of a connection with the world. I hate that it makes people seem so accessible. I hate that you can't get over anything because there are constant reminders in the form of pictures or events or idiotic wallposts when all you want to do is forget. Instead there is the replay of every single ugly conversation and/or encounter and the constant reminder that your life is not what it once used to be.

And then here's an excellent article pointing out the function of facebook.

I realise what I've said above seems to be missing the point but while I fully agree with the whole facebook-is-a-business-and-it's-your-responsibility-what-you-do-with-the-tool, I really do hate what it's done to relationships. 

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Poetry II

So it seems like poetry as an issue, will feature a number of times in my blog. I am really trying to figure out my own understanding of it. Or rather, find some way to articulate it. I recently joined an online poetry workshop in an attempt to understand more of what I can only assume is "professional poetry". I put this in quotes because this falls in some obscure far away universe where I don't feel I belong. I'm still unsure of where I want to belong, I want people to like what I write(of course) and I want my poems to stand on their own without me jumping in to rescue them but right now I'm struggling with my previous understanding of poetry as being something spontaneous and unedited. What seemed so clear before, seems rather naive and overly simplistic.

For instance, in that workshop, one member(a new one, most likely) posted a rather maudlin poem for critique. Anyway, this person's poem was slaughtered by one of the moderators(did I mention that brutality is a criteria for good critique?) Anyway, what followed was a back and forth dialogue between the moderator and the beaten up poet on the subject of poetry.I won't get into the details of it, but what struck me(and it is something I ought to consider as someone who's trying to become better at writing) was that in response to the poet's rather petulant declaration that poetry comes from the heart the moderator was quick to shoot back and say that poetry does not come from the heart but in fact comes from the mind and therefore takes skill and practise. Umm..that sounds as appealing as mental maths. Well that was my knee jerk reaction.But knees and 'jerky' reactions(haha I am such a wit) aside, though I sympathise with the poor poet's feelings, I realised that I agreed with said moderator-poetry is a mental exercise, a frustrating one at that and incredibly hard to do. Because ultimately, poetry is only for the courageous.

As a poet, a large part of the process of writing involves telling yourself that you are limited and the tool you have is limited(how many times has a sentence refused to bend to your will?), but that you're still going to try and harness the reins of what sometimes seems like a monster waiting to be let loose.(bad analogy I know). No wait it's not. I mean, it does feel like that especially when you write a poem under the influence of some strong emotion, the words go crazy and prance across the page and in general make a mess of what you feel and what you wish to convey. I feel the deeply the chargin of what that poet went through when his/her poem was massacred but it's a lesson (I think) that must be learnt by those who want to write good poetry(of course we can argue over what is good and what is bad but that's a whole other issue) and by the ones who judge poetry too harshly. I am quite tired of hearing how "simple" poetry is. How it ignores the rules of grammar and takes gross liberties with language. I'd like each of these people to try and write one poem for heaven's sake. And that requires them to above all, read poetry. That's how everyone starts. Either way, it is a gross underestimation of what is essentially a unique process and yes, a process that requires effort.

Some might say that I'm removing all that is spontaneous about poetry. I am not. I am merely trying to say that the connection between a good poem and it's source(yes, the heart*sigh*) is the mind. It is that and only that which makes the reader experience a poem rather than simply reading a bunch of lines. It is that difference, that wide and deep chasm, between having someone's bleeding heart(which is just so messy) on your hands and having someone reach out, grab yours and squeeze. And there are only a few who can do it graciously so do not grudge them their gift or their effort. This goes for both the easily dismissive reader and the immature poet. I(for obvious reasons) have greater hope for the latter.


Disclaimer: I do not in any way mean to suggest that I am a part of the group. *sigh* Not yet anyway.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Some miseries have their place and they are the only chance we get- of feeling relevant.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Stale tea?

how to poem about getting fired?

incompetent
insecure
irrelevant
insincere
immaterial
inconsequential

huh. anyone notice a pattern here?

what does it mean to be professional. and why do we stick to this word like flies on fly paper? i mean, really. what does it even mean? i'm sending this out there. out out. what does this WORD mean?? and what use is to someone who hates the idea of a profession. it's like psychological testing. (another thing i've always hated.) be objective be objective. basically be something that you're not. really, does anybody care. but that's the point i guess. no one cares. about who you really are. so there the twain meet.

so now that i'm in this position of fearing the doomed "i", i am stumped. because if this is what i have to look forward to in a career, then it brings me to wonder why anyone does it. i suppose i sound really immature(ooh! another 'i'!) but that's just it. am i expected to come into the world of work smelling like a psychological rose? or a stapler. or whatever it is offices smell of. right now my office smells of stale tea. uh.. stale tea. i do NOT want to smell like stale tea.

uh anyone who loves their job... get out now!