Pish Posh

Recently I  read an article that scientifically stated that by sitting I am killing myself. Yesterday, listening to NPR, I heard from various researchers on how boredom slowly kills an individual. It seems as though every time I turn around, there is a new report on what I shouldn't be doing. And they come from the most unlikely of places.

The report on sitting was included as a blog article I should read as an instructor looking for work. The NPR report, well that came right at the moment I was heading to the park to visit my friend and her daughter.

Here's my question? What can a living person do to stay alive? FOREVER!

Really people, lets think about this; how many articles have you seen recently of what you shouldn't do? And how many have changed your behavior? Whether it's coffee, alcohol, smoking, red meat, fish, vitamins, or that piece of candy you have stashed away in the back of your freezer for a rainy day... it's not the item that will kill you, but the fact that you're a living entity that has to go through every reaction of being human which includes indulgence, ridiculous decisions, and every now and then a few moments of silence.

If I can't sit, if a mere few minutes of doing nothing is going to take minutes off my life everyday, if staring at a computer for hours on end is going to deplete the number of breaths an individual is granted, then I will say this: there is nothing I can do. Part of my job is sitting for hours on end, staring at a computer, and being bored. It's the moments I take after this that are important, I delight in a well cooked meal, prepared at home; I enjoy the sun on my back while walking and listening to whatever dancing play list I have on my iphone after a day of work; and you know what, a drink with a friend will always bring a smile to my face. And for that matter, sitting; researching my class or the next writing project in my mind, that makes me feel delighted. So if everything is going to kill me, I'm going to do my best to enjoy the life I have.

Pronouns & Articles: Part 2

I won't lie, this is a difficult assignment. To have my students then throw it back in my face, well that was a pleasure. I don't know if I accomplished exactly what they where hoping for, and I do believe a few expletives may have escaped my mouth when the buzzer sounded, letting me know my 15 minutes was up and my pen had to stop creating. But all in all, I'm happy with what was written.

To complete the assignment, it must be shared. Students had first dibs, but mere hours later (before arriving home) I made a point to stop and find Internet to keep with my attempts in writing and sharing.

So here you go. The creation of 15 minutes writing with the limitations of not being able to use pronouns, definitive articles, and writing in present tense. All on the spectacular image of The Scream by Edvard Munch.

Retreat from Worlds End

Another attempt to see what is unseen, Dante's field tickles back. Out of frame, Death sharpens teeth. Door open, decisions must be made.

Widen--Lengthen--time and place, back turned unable to step forward. Eyes round with sight of corpses eroding through winds hand, distanced from life.

Silent voice fills colored land. Nature radiates through gaping sight unable to feel energies pulse: human meaning. Shadow takes over; slip back towards routine.

Scream.

Pronouns and Acticles...

Finding time to write is never an easy task; but taking on the challenge to write in different styles takes great determination. Each quarter I assign various writing exercises, within English Composition. With only eleven weeks, I try to present as many writing methods as possible to motivate students to present well-organized, direct and clear thoughts.

Week five is always a favorite; each class handles it differently.

When I was young, I spent days flipping through the pages of a book filled with Norman Rockwell paintings. Each image told complex stories. So, week five, I ask students to write a three paragraph description of Norman Rockwell’s “Freedom from Want.” So far, the true difficulty assigned is to not get hungry while staring at, and writing on, a delicious golden-brown cooked turkey while sitting through a four hour class. Then I throw in a couple curve balls.

You can’t use pronouns in your writing.

Furthermore, you can’t write with definitive articles.

Usually students—once hearing all restrictions—instantaneously voice the impossibility of the assignment. Making it a necessity to preface (before students unite together to stone me for the soon to be 30 minutes of writing frustration) they first attempt the challenge. Try before saying, “It can’t be done.” (Recognize defiant pronoun use?)

Tonight, class didn’t make a peep of complaint. Instead, each student set to the task.  As an instructor, it was a pleasure to see students hard at work. Lets face it, instructors love baffled stares from students: opened mouthed hoping words might miraculously arrive on the page, all pronouns and articles removed as by magic. But what makes this assignment my favorite is the final instruction.

You have to share your writing.

Each quarter, I’m astonished at the creativity students achieve. I have heard descriptive paragraphs that range from research to the introduction of a horror story (still wondering how horror and Norman Rockwell mix, all I can say is the voice of the student made it work). And this quarter, students have given me homework. In other words, they’re asking for me to prove myself. Someone how, I accepted the task of writing a story from beginning to end: with no pronouns, no definitive articles, first person, and present tense--all within 15 minutes and the inspiration of The Scream by Edvard Munch.

If you noticed all the lined out writing within this short bit of writing, you know this won’t be an easy task (and if you have insights in how one would write in first person without the use of I, my, or mine, I’m all ears). This task will be completed, and if all my students hand in their research papers it will be shared in class and posted tomorrow. Fingers crossed I can accomplish the task as well as they have.

Fifteen Minutes...

With all the talk of needing to find the time to write, I find myself a hypocrite. For the last year, every class that comes my way there is a moment in the quarter when these words are uttered from my mouth:
  
“You just have to do, it. Write. Find the time to write. Even if it’s only fifteen minutes a day.”

And then what do I do. I spend the week, bouncing from one job to the next, free time is spent developing lesson plans, searching for full time work, or cooking a rare dinner in the hopes I have enough calories in my system to not fall over while teaching.

What isn’t found in my routine; what I preach every quarter.

Make the time to write.

I’m tired of it. Being a hypocrite is not what I want to be. I want to be that instructor whose students look to and say, “Well, damn… If she can do it, so can I.”

So I have fifteen minutes to write before the thirty-five minute drive to teach class. And in this rare fifteen minutes, I have found time to write. I have also decided I must write at least fifteen minutes a day. I must find the time as I tell my students they must. And so begins a new journey for this blog, journal, thingumabob, or whatever you want to call the random postings I’ve been placing haphazardly on-line the last few years.

It’s time to write every day, all the time, maybe even for contests. I don’t care if what I write is drivel to most, what I want (what I think all writers want) is that rare moment when a sentence works; a moment when it all comes together, even if it’s just one paragraph out of many. I promise to you I will write, and when I say “to you,” I mean me. Who knows where the words will take us. No matter where, it will sure be better than sitting in an office chair crunching numbers. It will be better than the re-run of Criminal Minds you have seen for the hundredth time (no offense to the T.V. show, as you can see I was willing to watch your show repeatedly). Not anymore though.

In fifteen minutes, I could walk on sandy beaches while having my cat cuddle with me in my chair as I type. In fifteen minutes, I could be inventing a machine that doesn’t exist and flying across galaxies. In fifteen minutes, I might be in a fantasy kingdom with strong and vivacious princesses and cunning masculine knights (did you notice how I threw a bit of romance in there). With fifteen minutes, I could change my life.

I have fifteen minutes, do you want to listen.