Odd Workings
So when I was in school I took every social science elective I could as I felt understanding the why and how of the way we think and act could only help me as a writer. I thought it would give me an insight into creating characters.
I'm still unable to effectively leave the first person narrative in any fiction I write. I'm so wrapped up in my own ego that I just can't imagine a character, no that's not right, I can see a character who doesn't think like me, I just can not think for that character effectively or believably. And I cannot do the female perspective.
I find this odd as between those studies and the practical experience of bartending I am able to empathize with people and usually understand why they say and do the things they do. I was very good at that part of the bartending job. Being the guy who sits and listens and perhaps asks a question or two. I was also a very bad bartender, because I was a sucker for a pretty face and was a bit too generous with the booze.
Being the introspective egocentric nut job that I am, I often find myself wondering at, and even amused by, my own behavior. Here is one idiosyncratic bit of behavior I've been noticing lately. Whenever I start thinking about things I said or did in the past that might be hard subjects to think about because they are either painful memories or there is a heavy dose of shame or self loathing involved in the memory, I start singing out loud. No real song more like a chant to make the bad ju ju fly away. Something like, "And so I sing. And so I sing. " or "I'm cleaning the dishes. I'm scrubbing the spatula." Words taken from the physical environment meant to cast out the ghosts of memory.
The funny thing is that I find the singing to be embarrassing. I mean who wants to be chanting about the toilet brush or the kitchen table when someone else is in the room or when you are walking down the street. It definitely has a certain crazy flair.
So in my wonderings I start thinking that a shrink would probably try get me to talk about these things that I keep safely buried and never speak of because that's what they do being shrinks and all. I am given to wonder however, would this stop the stupid singing thing or would I have to have some long therapy sessions about that too.
To some extent I blame a religion teacher I had in high school as he made us read Man's Search For Meaning by Vicktor E. Frankl. Then the teacher went on to argue that we could only find meaning and purpose in life by accepting God and as an agnostic I've always found that to be so much horse hockey. So at an early age the teacher had me going on about such ambiguous stuff as meaning.
Over my multiple attempts at college I studied a bit of philosophy too. I think I've owned five copies of Five Dialogues over the years as everybody requires that you read it. (I've managed to get rid of them all I think). This taught me about Socrates and the unexamined life. That is to say it helped make me more of an introspective goof than I already was, thinking about my motives and actions.
In Summary : To an extant I am overeducated. I've been exposed to wide swath of knowledge. I live and breath Jack of all trades. To an extant I am undereducated. I have no marketable or complete knowledge about any single thing. I sing when I'm scared of what I'm thinking. That's weird.
Now picture links.
More Laters
I'm still unable to effectively leave the first person narrative in any fiction I write. I'm so wrapped up in my own ego that I just can't imagine a character, no that's not right, I can see a character who doesn't think like me, I just can not think for that character effectively or believably. And I cannot do the female perspective.
I find this odd as between those studies and the practical experience of bartending I am able to empathize with people and usually understand why they say and do the things they do. I was very good at that part of the bartending job. Being the guy who sits and listens and perhaps asks a question or two. I was also a very bad bartender, because I was a sucker for a pretty face and was a bit too generous with the booze.
Being the introspective egocentric nut job that I am, I often find myself wondering at, and even amused by, my own behavior. Here is one idiosyncratic bit of behavior I've been noticing lately. Whenever I start thinking about things I said or did in the past that might be hard subjects to think about because they are either painful memories or there is a heavy dose of shame or self loathing involved in the memory, I start singing out loud. No real song more like a chant to make the bad ju ju fly away. Something like, "And so I sing. And so I sing. " or "I'm cleaning the dishes. I'm scrubbing the spatula." Words taken from the physical environment meant to cast out the ghosts of memory.
The funny thing is that I find the singing to be embarrassing. I mean who wants to be chanting about the toilet brush or the kitchen table when someone else is in the room or when you are walking down the street. It definitely has a certain crazy flair.
So in my wonderings I start thinking that a shrink would probably try get me to talk about these things that I keep safely buried and never speak of because that's what they do being shrinks and all. I am given to wonder however, would this stop the stupid singing thing or would I have to have some long therapy sessions about that too.
To some extent I blame a religion teacher I had in high school as he made us read Man's Search For Meaning by Vicktor E. Frankl. Then the teacher went on to argue that we could only find meaning and purpose in life by accepting God and as an agnostic I've always found that to be so much horse hockey. So at an early age the teacher had me going on about such ambiguous stuff as meaning.
Over my multiple attempts at college I studied a bit of philosophy too. I think I've owned five copies of Five Dialogues over the years as everybody requires that you read it. (I've managed to get rid of them all I think). This taught me about Socrates and the unexamined life. That is to say it helped make me more of an introspective goof than I already was, thinking about my motives and actions.
In Summary : To an extant I am overeducated. I've been exposed to wide swath of knowledge. I live and breath Jack of all trades. To an extant I am undereducated. I have no marketable or complete knowledge about any single thing. I sing when I'm scared of what I'm thinking. That's weird.
Now picture links.
More Laters
posted by Rich Rosenthal II at 3:35 AM
4 Comments:
No, it's not weird really, not at all. It's your coping mechanism. You could always sing through your therapy session. And, in my humble opinion, it's much better to know a little bit about a lot of things rather than a lot about a few things. It means you're well rounded and can pull from many experiences and your wealth of knowledge and apply that knowledge to many different circumstances. Kudos to you.
i agree with divadrip. cats have been known to purr when they are frightened for the same reason you sing--it's a coping mechanism.
i love your first person narratives. i couldn't imagine reading your writing without your characters not at least resembling you in some way. as for writing from the female perspective, i have trouble with it and i'm a girl.
that was me, btw. stupid anon button was checked.
I should do a required reading post. not what I think people should read but the weird stuff people have forced me to read over the years. My own list would be much to long.
Post a Comment
<< Home