And So It Goes....
Dear Constant Readers,
I haven't written in my blog for a few weeks or so, so at the end of this very hectic and crazy week, here is finally something, to whom it may concern.
I started this week feeling very optimistic and productive, but somehow it didn't live up to those hopes. Not that I didn't get some stuff done, but not what I was hoping to accomplish.
A big event in my life has recently occurred. Well, maybe I should say potential big event. I have been nominated to work for two years in Central/South America with the Peace Corps. I didn't get into the program I wanted (Forestry) which was a little disappointing, but I did get nominated for a similar program, or seemingly similar one (Hygiene Education and Sanitation) which suggested I may be doing outdoor physical labor anyway, which really is what I wanted in the first place. If I officially get invited (which really I don't know if that will happen or not) I will go and not only get a chance to bump my Spanish up to possible native-near native level (it's already fluent, albeit rusty and not as idiomatic as I'd like) as well as work primarily in one of the Native languages of the area (from what I've read, most likely Quechua) which is also what I was really wanting to learn, language freak that I am.
I am nervous about it...can I live for two years in possible isolation in a culture completely different from my own with possibly no electricity, no running water, a mud/branch hut and internet/communication-to-outside-world-access-every-three-months-
if-I-am-lucky? A resounding...."Gee...." is my response to that scenario. I think I can. (I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, choo choo! -Anyone get that?-) I have thought about this before, but now that everything is becoming a reality, it's kind of a shock. But if I am given this chance, I think I really need to take it. I have been dreaming of this for years, and hell, I think it's normal to feel like this. That's a healthy sign of caution, methinks.
I still don't know what I would like to do career-wise. Earlier this week I went to a career fair and saw damn near diddly squat about anything that looked interesting to me. That's not really a surprise though since most of it was a) mostly seemed very much business office-ish like or b) pertaining to the state, and I am not seeing myself in any of those two categories. I don't just want to get out of Nebraska, but after this winter, I don't want to be in cold again.
Winter is the depression of the seasons. For those of you who have not gone through depression (and I myself have never gone through a major one, thank Jesus) it is not just being sad. It's unique. It's forgetting what it's like to be happy, and that you can be happy. You may as well be on the dark side of Mars. It is truly fucked. And this winter sometimes feels like that. Think of it like this: walking down a given street when it is so cold it hurts your nostrils to breathe in, picture yourself wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Something about that sounds utterly ridiculous, and nearly impossible, eh? And picture yourself in summer enjoying the *perfect* evening, and imagine yourself all bundled up and feeling miserable and wondering when it will end. Nah...you'd say to that person. Go and pull the other one! That's so different it's surely gonna skip me, right?
That's an idea of how depression compares to...whatever the opposite is...peace of mind, I guess. And that's how this winter has felt like. Hasn't convinced me I want to stay around at all. I do love the storms in the summer though. The thunderheads are truly God kicking up dust, so to speak.
I have returned to fiction writing, something else that I didn't get done for class this week. I missed it, I had a case of writer's block, although that doesn't sound quite right. It's just that I didn't really have any urge strong enough to make me formulate a story.
But then, sometimes a story comes to you in the form of a $69 dollar fine. My first speeding ticket did just that, surely. It inspired a story that I wrote just for...fun...venting...? A bit of both, actually. It was a story about a person who gets a ticket, but instead of going quietly, decided to give the police a run for their money, so to speak. Of course, I didn't do that, I didn't even entertain it for my own amusement at the time it (which was 1.30 in the AM near the country side), but at least a story was sparked in my imagination.
But I was writing another story (also based a true story, but not about me) however I didn't get that finished for class because this week was somehow freakishly busy. Or was it? Maybe I'm just a poor manager of time. There's probably an element of that. So I submitted my police-chase story for class instead.
Now, I am also in the One-Acts. I am an actor now, and I love it. I have for many moons wondered what it would be like to be in stage. I admire actors who do damn good jobs, particularly when beautifully pull off non-native accents, because I am so damned in love with the human voice, I guess. I can, to a point, see sounds, I sometimes think. It sounds far-fetched, but some people actually do have this talent. I wonder if I do, because some sounds trigger consistent images of colors in my head.
But yes, the play. I was recently cast in a student-directed One-Act called "The Maker of Dreams," where I am this gentleman named the Manufacturer whose job it is to unite to destined love birds who are heading in the opposite direction. I don't really have much experience with this in real life, so getting into character is kind of a challenge, but it's fun. I want to see how natural I can make it.
Sometimes I wonder, could you, sir Tristan, be an actor? What would it be like to be in the movies? Could you pull it off? Actually, sometimes I think, with some training, I maybe could. I don't know, that's what I'm doing this play for...to see if I have any skill for it, and I think I might have some. But I don't think I'd want to do that professionally all the time. Even if I was in the 1% or so to make it big, I would shun fame. I like privacy. In some ways I'm very open (as this blog has shown) but I wouldn't want to live like that.
Now I am running out the things to say. My world was twice rocked in the space of about three minutes and it threw me into a writing mood as a result. Really lit a fire under my ass, it felt like. Maybe I'll think of some way to finish my other stories for class now.
Oh, and I think I want to get into watercolor painting. I did that as a kid and didn't really like it. I thought I could pull off some Bob Ross paintery but on his show it never showed pieces of the canvas shedding away, or him accidentally poking a hole through a part of it with his brush when a lot of paint had been applied.
But I have briefly rediscovered it, and actually was quite surprised to see how fun it was. I thought it would suck, but I was wrong. I have a couple ideas for some paintings I want to do...and actually both of the come from dreams I recently had. One of them is of Trier, where I lived in Germany, which was really really recognizable in my dream. But now that I'm awake and thinking back on it, it didn't look anything like Trier. For example, and I may have just not being very alert, but I don't think there were any volcanoes where I was living. Not in that corner of Germany/Luxembourg/France.
Both dreams were incredibly beautiful though. Sleep really can be an adventure. God, I wish I could go to those worlds sometimes. Maybe that's what makes up the rafters of Heaven.
Hope all is well!
Tristan
I haven't written in my blog for a few weeks or so, so at the end of this very hectic and crazy week, here is finally something, to whom it may concern.
I started this week feeling very optimistic and productive, but somehow it didn't live up to those hopes. Not that I didn't get some stuff done, but not what I was hoping to accomplish.
A big event in my life has recently occurred. Well, maybe I should say potential big event. I have been nominated to work for two years in Central/South America with the Peace Corps. I didn't get into the program I wanted (Forestry) which was a little disappointing, but I did get nominated for a similar program, or seemingly similar one (Hygiene Education and Sanitation) which suggested I may be doing outdoor physical labor anyway, which really is what I wanted in the first place. If I officially get invited (which really I don't know if that will happen or not) I will go and not only get a chance to bump my Spanish up to possible native-near native level (it's already fluent, albeit rusty and not as idiomatic as I'd like) as well as work primarily in one of the Native languages of the area (from what I've read, most likely Quechua) which is also what I was really wanting to learn, language freak that I am.
I am nervous about it...can I live for two years in possible isolation in a culture completely different from my own with possibly no electricity, no running water, a mud/branch hut and internet/communication-to-outside-world-access-every-three-months-
if-I-am-lucky? A resounding...."Gee...." is my response to that scenario. I think I can. (I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, choo choo! -Anyone get that?-) I have thought about this before, but now that everything is becoming a reality, it's kind of a shock. But if I am given this chance, I think I really need to take it. I have been dreaming of this for years, and hell, I think it's normal to feel like this. That's a healthy sign of caution, methinks.
I still don't know what I would like to do career-wise. Earlier this week I went to a career fair and saw damn near diddly squat about anything that looked interesting to me. That's not really a surprise though since most of it was a) mostly seemed very much business office-ish like or b) pertaining to the state, and I am not seeing myself in any of those two categories. I don't just want to get out of Nebraska, but after this winter, I don't want to be in cold again.
Winter is the depression of the seasons. For those of you who have not gone through depression (and I myself have never gone through a major one, thank Jesus) it is not just being sad. It's unique. It's forgetting what it's like to be happy, and that you can be happy. You may as well be on the dark side of Mars. It is truly fucked. And this winter sometimes feels like that. Think of it like this: walking down a given street when it is so cold it hurts your nostrils to breathe in, picture yourself wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Something about that sounds utterly ridiculous, and nearly impossible, eh? And picture yourself in summer enjoying the *perfect* evening, and imagine yourself all bundled up and feeling miserable and wondering when it will end. Nah...you'd say to that person. Go and pull the other one! That's so different it's surely gonna skip me, right?
That's an idea of how depression compares to...whatever the opposite is...peace of mind, I guess. And that's how this winter has felt like. Hasn't convinced me I want to stay around at all. I do love the storms in the summer though. The thunderheads are truly God kicking up dust, so to speak.
I have returned to fiction writing, something else that I didn't get done for class this week. I missed it, I had a case of writer's block, although that doesn't sound quite right. It's just that I didn't really have any urge strong enough to make me formulate a story.
But then, sometimes a story comes to you in the form of a $69 dollar fine. My first speeding ticket did just that, surely. It inspired a story that I wrote just for...fun...venting...? A bit of both, actually. It was a story about a person who gets a ticket, but instead of going quietly, decided to give the police a run for their money, so to speak. Of course, I didn't do that, I didn't even entertain it for my own amusement at the time it (which was 1.30 in the AM near the country side), but at least a story was sparked in my imagination.
But I was writing another story (also based a true story, but not about me) however I didn't get that finished for class because this week was somehow freakishly busy. Or was it? Maybe I'm just a poor manager of time. There's probably an element of that. So I submitted my police-chase story for class instead.
Now, I am also in the One-Acts. I am an actor now, and I love it. I have for many moons wondered what it would be like to be in stage. I admire actors who do damn good jobs, particularly when beautifully pull off non-native accents, because I am so damned in love with the human voice, I guess. I can, to a point, see sounds, I sometimes think. It sounds far-fetched, but some people actually do have this talent. I wonder if I do, because some sounds trigger consistent images of colors in my head.
But yes, the play. I was recently cast in a student-directed One-Act called "The Maker of Dreams," where I am this gentleman named the Manufacturer whose job it is to unite to destined love birds who are heading in the opposite direction. I don't really have much experience with this in real life, so getting into character is kind of a challenge, but it's fun. I want to see how natural I can make it.
Sometimes I wonder, could you, sir Tristan, be an actor? What would it be like to be in the movies? Could you pull it off? Actually, sometimes I think, with some training, I maybe could. I don't know, that's what I'm doing this play for...to see if I have any skill for it, and I think I might have some. But I don't think I'd want to do that professionally all the time. Even if I was in the 1% or so to make it big, I would shun fame. I like privacy. In some ways I'm very open (as this blog has shown) but I wouldn't want to live like that.
Now I am running out the things to say. My world was twice rocked in the space of about three minutes and it threw me into a writing mood as a result. Really lit a fire under my ass, it felt like. Maybe I'll think of some way to finish my other stories for class now.
Oh, and I think I want to get into watercolor painting. I did that as a kid and didn't really like it. I thought I could pull off some Bob Ross paintery but on his show it never showed pieces of the canvas shedding away, or him accidentally poking a hole through a part of it with his brush when a lot of paint had been applied.
But I have briefly rediscovered it, and actually was quite surprised to see how fun it was. I thought it would suck, but I was wrong. I have a couple ideas for some paintings I want to do...and actually both of the come from dreams I recently had. One of them is of Trier, where I lived in Germany, which was really really recognizable in my dream. But now that I'm awake and thinking back on it, it didn't look anything like Trier. For example, and I may have just not being very alert, but I don't think there were any volcanoes where I was living. Not in that corner of Germany/Luxembourg/France.
Both dreams were incredibly beautiful though. Sleep really can be an adventure. God, I wish I could go to those worlds sometimes. Maybe that's what makes up the rafters of Heaven.
Hope all is well!
Tristan
posted by Tristan | 9:10 PM
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