All things scruffy, all the time

About Scruffy

The alchoholic, petrified, purple feline alter ego of Jenn Embree; writer, artist, designer, and internet junkie.

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Even if you're on the right track,
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Archive for December, 2007

“[A]n english degree is about literature, it is a medium specific study of history. It is not about writing. Writing is something entirely different.”

The apartment hunt is on. I’ve found a good one, but I have to remind myself that I shouldn’t settle with only looking at two places. I’ve finally managed to get my phone switched over and I’m starting something of a routine. Golly, it’s like a normal life. Now if I can live in one spot for a while it’ll be great.

Now, I’m realizing that I’ve been writing here a lot lately. Much of that has to do with my just being really, really fucking board at work (read: I waited an hour and twenty five minutes before getting a call today) but also I do love to write. It’s something I’ve forgotten about in years past, though I’ve tried to rekindle the experience. Honestly, I used to wake up early to write stories, then bring paper to school and keep going as much as I could during class, even publish my excessively ambitious star wars fan fiction online and live off of the comments I got (those were a lot of work, you know. 5 1/5 books at 150pages a pop ain’t nothing to thumb your nose at if you know what I’m sayin’).

I went to university to write, and wound up doing just the opposite. I stopped writing entirely. I blame a bit of it on loss of routine (I blame a lot of things on loss of routine, you’ll notice). Waking up early when you have a roommate who doesn’t is awkward, and then when you inevitably fall into the student life style and it becomes a near impossibility (at least for a weak-willed person like myself that cherishes her eight hours of sleep a night). However, I am aware that I am rationalizing. The real problem was that I was in an academic environment and they wanted me to change my writing style to something very foreign, and I didn’t wanna.

I can write formally. It is within me to do so and to do it well. However, I don’t like to. I like whimsical writing, just take a look at some of the essays I’ve posted in my portfolio. I want to be engaged in what I’m reading and writing, just as I liked to be engaged in my classes. It took me years to figure out how to apply a whimsical style of writing to my essay work, and only because of something that occurred rather late in my degree. This isn’t to put down the wonderful education I have received, it was a great experience. However, the first part of your degree is spent, by necessity, having strict grammatical and formal stylistic conventions, as well as MLA formatting, reamed down your throat (comma splice, comma splice). I understand this, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when I had 20% deducted off of an essay for double spacing after my periods in my Works Cited.

Crap like that actually sours a girl on writing, makes you wonder if you like doing what you actually thought you liked doing. Maybe what I thought I liked wasn’t writing at all, but something else, something somehow made lower by virtue of the fact that it did not fit into the English student’s Bible, the Modern Language Association Style Guide (or rather, the supplemental Bible, since everyone knows an English students actual Bible is the OED).

It wasn’t until I had a very special professor, Dr. Deborah Wills, that I was able to see beyond that. I took her Critical Theory class in my third year, and I wish I had taken it earlier. In fact, I wish I had planned my whole damn degree differently, but that’s another discussion (actually, maybe that’ll be my next post, since it might be fun to try a linear progression in topics for a change). Anyway, this was a class to teach you how to criticize. Now, you might think that they would teach you that in your first year, but you would be wrong. Hell, I know I would not have done as well in this class if I had taken it in my first year. This class was more, for me at least, about finding my critical voice. There are so many ways to write, and in the classroom environment created in a normal English degree writing isn’t actually a focus. I tell people a lot that my degree taught me to read good. At no point in my degree was I taught to write. I was given a framework and left to my own devices. Of course you received tips on your writing when you get your essays back, but rarely were you given the opportunity to go back to that essay and try again. You simple had to hope you would pick it up as you went along.

Let me say something that I believe is an unequivocal truth: THAT IS NOT A LEARNING TECHNIQUE FOR WRITING. I can trial and error my writing skills on my own damn time and get my friends to read it, or go to a tutor. This is not worth the tens of thousands of dollars I spent. So if anyone is wondering let me tell you a secrete; an English degree is about literature, it is a medium specific study of history. It is not about writing. Writing is something entirely different.

I keep trying to go back to Dr. Wills’ Critical Theory class and I keep getting distracted. So pardon my digressions and I’ll try to focus on what I’m trying to say: her’s was the first class where I was specifically told to flout literary conventions in critical writing. When she told the class that MLA formatting and formal writing were not required, it was met with part cries ecstasy and release, part gasps of horror and panic. For some, the removal of that formal framework is like pulling the proverbial blanket from under their feet. For others, like me, it was like an excuse to have fun with words again. It’s not even as though I went completely overboard, but just having the freedom to write an essay and insert personal pronouns was amazing. How can we take ownership of our ideas if convention keeps us from attaching them to ourselves except through awkward formality, “…is the opinion of the author of this essay” doesn’t really have the same impact as, “…is what I think.”.

Ok, so the point of not referring to ourselves in the first person is supposed to indicate detachment and objectivity. I get it. Yet how can we be expected to get excited over something, to write with passion and conviction if we are constantly forced to forge a linguistic barrier between our thoughts and our presentation? A literary essay is NOT objective, it is an argument, it is an opinion of an interpretation that you are trying to get other people to agree with. It doesn’t matter what the author’s intent was, it doesn’t matter how many other people agree with you. The act of writing an interpretation is as challenging and as difficult as writing the work itself, at least it should be.

The act of writing should never be easy, and it should never be static. It should be as organic, lively and engaging as language itself. Otherwise, it’s just fancy words.

To all my argosy peeps

You know what I’m talking about.

This is the Cause of My Extreme Pain

I am in extreme pain. And I don’t mean a mental affliction, a blow to the heart and soul. I mean real, physical, stabbing death, gasp out loud even when you’d rather not type pain.

I was sitting on the bus on the way to work today and suddenly my back started to spasm. It would do it randomly, whether I’m sitting still, moving, though more often when I take a deep breath. I’ve had this problem since I threw my back out for the first time when I was 17. When I was still working with the ponies, I’d hurt it all the time, especially when we were loading/unloading at shows. It is probably sciatica, though like most of the other mildly serious injures that  I’ve received, I’ve never had it properly checked. However, it has been pointed out to me by another that I usually complain the most when I’m experiencing some stressful event. Now, I can deal with a 1500 pound animal trying to kill me, I can deal with tight deadlines and hard work, I can deal with other people’s extreme and unnecessary emotional angst around me. 

The thing that stresses me out more than anything is money.  Probably because when something goes wrong financially in my life, it means bad things. I do not have any savings, never really have. My parents do not have any savings, and have made a relatively low income their entire lives.  I have no partner to leach off of and I don’t think I would even if I could. I’ve always had a strong aversion to borrowing from other people, though I’m pretty lenient when you ask me.  It’s strange, because I’ll mooch food and other goods and services with the shameless aplomb of a trannie whore. I dislike currency, yet covet it. Someone gives me a toonie and it’s a life altering event. I have massive student loans, credit card debt, and all the other bills that people acquire in this world.  And as I look back, I’m realizing that any mishap with my student loans is an instant (or near instant) invitation for fiery pain.

What this amounts to, in my completely non-expert opinion, is that I have some sort of psychosis. I get stressed, and my body punishes me. This is a stupid psychological reaction, and I’d be extremely interested in reading some sort of research as to why.  Probably my body is telling me to avoid financial ruin. Well, thank you body, I got the point and I’m doing my best, but right now call centre is the only answer I have for you. And Robaxacet(c), sweet, sweet, robaxect.  Probably mixed with bourbon.

Whoa, what happened, dudes?

Eek! I disappeared for a while. I have this new thing I’m trying out, it’s called a “job”. It’s crazy, I sit in a room and answer phone calls and emails from people who are annoyed that their groceries arrived five minutes late. I’m not even doing this consistently (I can go a whole hour of sitting at my desk, doodling and waiting for the phone to ring). And then, after five days of this, they hand me a check. EASIEST MONEY EVER.

I had this weird block in my mind that i would never work at a call centre, that to do so was admitting defeat in some way. As if employment at such an establishment marked the beginning of my downfall into mediocrity and the abandonment of dreams. However, the need for this other concept that I’ve tried to ignore for most of my adult life, that concept being a thing called “currency”, drove me like so many others into lowering my standards. I’m trying to get a little more realistic in my plans. Get an apartment, maybe get a friend for my poor abused puppy (she’s staring at me right now, trying to figure out why I don’t want to go for a half hour jaunt in the icy death that is the outdoors), and start saving and getting things under control.

I’ve spent a lot of time recently trying to figure out what it was I wanted–if you have a goal in mind you can endure all manner of torture in order to get there, even saying the phrase, “Thank you for calling the Fresh Direct Delivery Status Team, my name is Jenn, how can I help you today?” forty times a day. And after careful examination I think my current goal, and really the goal I’ve had since graduating university, is to “get things going”. I want to establish my own spot, colour it my own colour, not struggle with my bills (I’ll be paying them for a while, I’d just really like it to not be a struggle) and get some sort of a routine down. People crave routines and I haven’t had one in some time. In university I’d have one for three and a half months, then next semester get a new one, then summer get a new one, then back to school and all over again. Then graduate, get a crappy job and start a routine just in time to get a potentially cool job except this job is the antithesis of routine. Do that for two years until you realize it’s making you miserable and come home, and try to get a routine. Since hitting that point three months ago I’ve moved to my dads, then to my moms, and then back to my dad’s again. And in a month or two I’m hoping to have an apartment that is mine, that is as permanent as can be. I don’t even care if it’s a dive at this point, I just want to live in one spot for MORE THAN THREE MONTHS and not feel pressure to get things done before I ship out again.

You know, I spent a whole day about two weeks ago trying to put those thoughts into words and suddenly it just happened that I think I got them down perfect. Well, sorry for ranting and thank you for reading if you made it this far.

By the by, if you’re a drunkducker, I’ve been posting my Naruto doujinshi there, so if you prefer that format over that of my website, check it out. And I’ll be updating my portfolio soon with some new stuff.