What If: I could tell My Story like Marlow did his?

First things first, I know I'm barking up a confusing, potentially intellectually dangerous, and possibly impossible tree, so please, just bear with me. Thank you...

What if I told my life's story like Marlow? My first thought is that I would break it up into some smaller paragraphs; I've never realized before realized how big of a favor the use of more than one or two indents per page the author did for me. But that's besides the point.

Struggles and Aspirations
For most of my life I've been telling stories. As my friends can tell you, and judging by the quality I feel like I express my ideas in class (and even sometimes in writing), I often do a less than stellar job of telling them. Be that as it may, if there was one story which I really wanted to come out the way it sounded in my head, in a way that I knew people would be interested, I know I would want that story to be my story. Obviously, everybody has their own unique story with which they choose to share (or not) with those who they interact with (or don't share, for that matter). But what I've come to realize is that not all people who I think are interesting have an oncredibly riventing story to tell, but the way they tell it can and often does make me want to hear what they have to say. I think about Conrad telling his story in Heart of Darkness via Marlow because he does exactly what I aspire to do (well, besides the paragraphing)--holding the reader's attention by dropping subtle hints through seemingly meaningless details that end up describing an important and noteworthy lesson that makes them crave words off my pages until the the very last page. Yes, I just admitted my jealousy for Conrad and Marlow.

Function
Not only did I understand what I hope to achieve in telling my story, but I also discovered along the way what the power of a story has. One's story is like a projection, or a window distinguishing oneself from the judgemental and belittling world around them. In fact, people liking you for "who you really are" is largely tied up in your ability to tell a riveting and multi-layered story, which is always unfolding, might I add.

Toolbox
We have recently been discussing in class the essential roles which multiplicity, irony, and ambiguity play in Heart of Darkness--elements that a well relayed story absolutely requires. Something I've been trying to work on is trying to get people to realize and distinguish between the surface level and the more intellectual level of my story without saying it outright or making it inherently obvious that that is the message which I am trying to convey. This is the job of irony. In other words, I seek to drop multiple breadcrumbs rather than full-on pave a path more my listeners. On ambiguity, we should strive not to make our stories incomprehensible sophisticated or perplexing, but complicated enough, while maintaining our voice, to make them work to understand what it is we are really trying to say. Both of the above things are things we as storytellers can do on our own. However, the lt element requires the aid of other perspectives, or multiplicity. I very much enjoyed the way Conrad layered in subordinate narrators to remind the reader that the primary narrator, Marlow wasn't omniscient and that he was in fact human and biased in his opinions. I'm not saying we need to use the same story-writing techniques as Conrad did for Marlow, but covering multiple dimensions of the story and using this variety as a building block for what one hopes to accomplish by telling their story is something we, as fallible and biased humans like Marlow, could apply.

It's the Little Things
Lastly, I think it's important to figure out what goes into your story, because what comes out is almost completely dependent on what you put in. Your story doesn't have to consist of these life-changing events that make you sound sophisticated because in the end, it makes you sound incomplete. What I mean by this that the story worthy material may just be discussion of a good laugh, or a good cry, or a small moment that you helped someone else out. I believe this to be story worthy material because actions speak louder than the fabricated connection I see and hear between an internal shift and an "important" event.

No matter what, though, you have to have a story. Yes, a story is must. So gather round the campfire we call life and start talking. You've been quiet for too long.

Blogging Around (Revised)

I thought it would be interesting to compare my own poetry writing experience to that of my brilliant classmates and was very, very impressed and interested in what ai read in both Nonie's and Nish's Metacognition: poetry writing blogs. Just to preface things, I was particularly stunned at the very different approaches these students took in the similar situation of being "stuck" and desperate for substance, a situation I also found myself in. In conjunction with this idea, both of their strategies to overcoming the "poetic walls", as Nishanth said, demonstrated a high-level and crucial knowledge of oneself and how being able to take a step back and assess what they're missing made their poem way better than they could have imagined.

Nonie,

That was one very interesting and striking expression of your feelings about the process of your poem. There are certain elements of your post to which I can't totally relate, the cross-over to the music world or being motivated almost completely by the grade (although it is a motivator for sure), but I totally agree with the underlying message originally conveyed by your guitar teacher in seventh grade.

I think everyone in our class can relate to working hard at one thing or another. And while the "rolling around like a pig in mud" in the middle of the room while trying to write and painstakingly improve the darn thing is part of the process which I experienced as well, I wasn't as clever as you were in resetting mind and body to the mode of poetic thinking.

The Giving Tree is obviously a comfort of yours. As writers, and poets especially, we have an obligation to take risks, but just as important is our ability to build atop what we already know and something that we feel secure about, that thing being that very special book in your case. Knowing yourself as a worker and poet definitely helped you in this case because by resorting to an old but not forgotten comfort, you established an inspiration. And, although you may not have ridden that inspiration OT the end of your process, it ended up feeding your willingness to perspire throughout the actual writing of your poem--a willingness that I, and probably some of our classmates, undoubtedly could have used.

I will definitely keep in mind this simple, yet completely true message when I decide to embark on a difficult and oftentimes frustrating journey, especially in the context of my writing. Nice work!

_________________________________________________________________________________

Nish,

Quite the analysis of the poem-writing and discovery process you have done here, much of which that I can relate my own process to. From what it sounds like, both of our poems originally lent themselves to clichés initially, a difficult and frustrating problem to overcome. We also realized that we needed to include more imagery in an effective and creative manner, but I, among many of my Academy classmates, struggled with this concept in the elementary versions of our poems. Another element our poems have in common is that we both somewhat drew from "The Fish" for its poetic techniques.


In the later paragraphs of this blog, I especially like how you discussed the issue of facing multiple walls over multiple drafts and how you eventually realized the importance of squeezing every last ounce of power out of the poetic tools you had. Like you, I experienced the same feeling of "this is the best that it can be" after my conference with Mr. Allen too, but I was particularly struck by how you approached the clearing of that hurdle in the process--by taking a walk in the forest and looking for ways to improve your poem. As I found with my poem, relating to and experiencing the poem, whether visually, like me, or physically, like you, is crucial in order to develop it further. I suppose that I was impressed by your willingness to fully throw yourself into the experience and delve headlong into the poem's meaning by experiencing the out of doors on your lonesome; I think it's what any good poet would and should do if they were "against the wall", so to speak. Recalling your poem from the reading during class, it sounds like you did end up solving many of the problems you faced during the various stages of your poem. And indeed, from a more future-oriented perspective, it sounds like you capitalized on those struggles to make not only that specific poem better, but also future poetry and most definitely other pieces of writing you construct. I tip my hat to you, sir.

Blogging Around #2--Noreen Andersen's "Metacognition: Inspiration, Then Perspiration" Repsonse

Nonie,

That was one very interesting and striking expression of your feelings about the process of your poem. There are certain elements of your post to which I can't totally relate, the cross-over to the music world or being motivated almost completely by the grade (although it is a motivator for sure), but I totally agree with the underlying message originally conveyed by your guitar teacher in seventh grade.

I think everyone in our class can relate to working hard at one thing or another. And while the "rolling around like a pig in mud" in the middle of the room while trying to write and painstakingly improve the darn thing is part of the process which I experienced as well, I wasn't as clever as you were in resetting mind and body to the mode of poetic thinking.

The Giving Tree is obviously a comfort of yours. As writers, and poets especially, we have an obligation to take risks, but just as important is our ability to build atop what we already know and something that we feel secure about, that thing being that very special book in your case. Knowing yourself as a worker and poet definitely helped you in this case because by resorting to an old but not forgotten comfort, you established an inspiration. And, although you may not have ridden that inspiration OT the end of your process, it ended up feeding your willingness to perspire throughout the actual writing of your poem--a willingness that I, and probably some of our classmates, undoubtedly could have used.

I will definitely keep in mind this simple, yet completely true message when I decide to embark on a difficult and oftentimes frustrating journey, especially in the context of my writing. Nice work!

Blogging Around #1--Nishanth's "Metacognition: The Poetic Walls" Repsonse

Nish,

Quite the analysis of the poem-writing and discovery process you have done here, much of which that I can relate my own process to. From what it sounds like, both of our poems originally lent themselves to clichés initially, a difficult and frustrating problem to overcome. We also realized that we needed to include more imagery in an effective and creative manner, but I, among many of my Academy classmates, struggled with this concept in the elementary versions of our poems. Another element our poems have in common is that we both somewhat drew from "The Fish" for its poetic techniques.


In the later paragraphs of this blog, I especially like how you discussed the issue of facing multiple walls over multiple drafts and how you eventually realized the importance of squeezing every last ounce of power out of the poetic tools you had. Like you, I experienced the same feeling of "this is the best that it can be" after my conference with Mr. Allen too, but I was particularly struck by how you approached the clearing of that hurdle in the process--by taking a walk in the forest and looking for ways to improve your poem. As I found with my poem, relating to and experiencing the poem, whether visually, like me, or physically, like you, is crucial in order to develop it further. I suppose that I was impressed by your willingness to fully throw yourself into the experience and delve headlong into the poem's meaning by experiencing the out of doors on your lonesome; I think it's what any good poet would and should do if they were "against the wall", so to speak. Recalling your poem from the reading during class, it sounds like you did end up solving many of the problems you faced during the various stages of your poem. And indeed, from a more future-oriented perspective, it sounds like you capitalized on those struggles to make not only that specific poem better, but also future poetry and most definitely other pieces of writing you construct. I tip my hat to you, sir.

Metacognition: Poetry Process

I put the packet that had multiplied in size since the preliminary stages of the damn poem on the table and, as cliché as it sounds, felt the weight lift off of my shoulders. As much as I liked poetry, it didn't exactly feel like my best of friends while I was had been sitting at the keyboard over the last several weeks, struggling for the right words.

What I believe the most difficult part to be is that I don't feel like I ever found them until I was in a frenzy to finish the thing! I have read all of my life, I have spoken to adults, and I communicate every second of every single day, even if that communication is internal. But it took a "frenemy" (a combination of friend and enemy) relationship with my poem in order for me to truly understand the power that words can really have. I keep revisiting that moment where I realized I had gone about this process totally and utterly incorrectly, where I felt overwhelmed by how much I had left to do. That moment was sitting one-on-one with my English teacher, something I wish I had done much sooner.

I had come to the last ten minutes of English class that day in order to receive feedback on a draft that I had revised significantly since the previous edition. I felt like I had expressed myself much more clearly than in previous versions of the poem, and I was hoping--and expecting--my English teacher to feel the same way.  

Wrong again.

When I received the poem, my eyes flew to the boxed in "C" in the bottom left hand corner. It felt like what three letters later in the alphabet stood for. I was clearly way too focused on the grade, and not about leanring how to write poetry or developing a voice separate from that of the "pseudo-scholar." When I brought myself up to being able to read his comments, I was, quite expectedly, dragged down by them. Apparently, I had tried to reach this uber-philosophical tone in my writing that just wasn't me. Okay, Mr. Allen. (Before your grade me down on this blog for the previous sentences, please read below.)

This shift to really caring about the writing, not the letter boxed in at the bottom-left, occurred in the moments described in the next paragraph. While I am glad I did eventually make that shift, it had come a draft too late.

Probably one of the greatest things that has ever been said to me by a teacher, in all seriousness, was at the lowest point of the conference I had with Mr. Allen. He told me that a Russian short story-writer used the technique of having an elaborate backstory for his characters that allowed him to have a lot more "fun" and enjoy greater liberties when it came to developing the story based on their stories. He, Mr. Allen, was under the impression that I was unfamiliar with my character. That couldn't be possible, I told myself, I am my character. It sucked to admit it, but Mr. Allen was absolutely under the correct impression that I didn't know my character, or myself for that matter. This long process wasn't one of completely finding a "new and enhanced me" so much as it was about finding a new and enhanced poetic voice.

I had always been the kind of writer to sit down and just start writing. "Writers write to decide what they are going to write about" was just a track that wouldn't stop playing in my head as I sat down at the keyboard for the last time to recreate this philosophical crap. It took me until the very end of the process to simply write, keeping my future self and my character's life in mind, until  I could finally say what I wanted and to say without stumbling over every word of every line. I was surprised that just by knowing my character, and adjusting my wording and format of the piece, I could write with a much greater effectiveness than in any previous drafts. For the first time in the entire process, I actually liked writing the poem.

Thank you Mr. Allen.

Metacognition: A Tribute to Aristotle

Blog 7

There's something that only those closest to me know, and that is that I am very organized in
some literal and figurative areas of my life, while quite the opposite in some others. They also
know that I am a persistent person; this persistence often works backwards and inhibits me
from getting things done that I dread or work half-heartedly at.
                                                                   
Naturally, cleaning my room and straightening up my living space is one of those things.
                                                                         ***
I sauntered down the stairs, at what was for me mid-morning, and was greeted by the lovely
sound of my mother's furious fingers tidying up tidbits of our scattered lives around the kitchen
and living room in preparation for the five additional members of family we were hosting for
the long-awaited Thanksgiving feast. I had a few minutes of bliss before she urged me to do the
same. I had no problem with it! I wanted our house to look nice just as badly as she did and I
was fully emerged in the cleaning spirit...right up until the point when she asked me to clean my
room. It's so dumb! I thought. They won't even go up there. As mothers often do, she won that
argument.
                                                                          ***
As I trudged back up the staircase, I just felt as if I was staring up at a mountain (and I'm
not referencing the one of clothes in my closet) and only had an hour and a half to get up it.
I entered and I was fully immersed in the feeling of hopelessness. I was the master of hiding
knock-knacks in the strangest and best-thought-out places ever, never thinking about the next
time that I would have to do what I was suppose to be doing at that very moment. It wasn't that I
didn't like my room clean. I loved it clean! It just never stayed that way.

I was well into the process of tidying up when I remembered that I had to do this anyway for this
very blog post. Finally, a teacher had us do something practical! Yes, that was the extent of my
dynamic thinking during this exercise.

Haha, just kidding. I continued bustling about and found my mind actually to be much less
restless. (Let me reiterate this point, I love a clean room and living space!) In retrospect, I
might even go as far as to say that my mind actually imitated the new appearance of my room-
-compartmentalized, clear, and at rest. There was no pile or collection of miscellaneous items
lurking in either important space, nothing left out and unresolved.

Here's what I have to say to Aristotle: sometimes I feel like some of the loose items that end up
cluttering my floor or a piece of furniture used as storage space, like I don't belong or need to
be put back into its proper setting. I highly doubt that I am the only one to get this sense of not
belonging or bing out of place. But as is true in both nature and in our minds, there is a set order
and we have the ability to control it. As was clear while cleaning my room, I figure out that we
can easily manipulate things that positively affect that order. I was negatively affected and felt
mentally uncomfortable when my room appeared disheveled. On the other hand, I felt a sense of
satisfaction and gain after doing what I dread. I think that this concept of manipulating aspects
of the order, even if we dread or fear that manipulation at the time, is a highly transferable skill
to academics, athletics, the good of society, and much more. After all, I believe or capacity to
change ourselves and our surroundings is most amazing and formidable gits with which we were
endowed.

Metacognition: Orlando Essay

One of the hardest essays I have had to write, up until that point in time at least, was the Orlando essay. Being one who loves structured and direction, I struggled with the synthesis of ideas and putting them down on a piece of paper. I usually don't have this problem, but I can now recall some flaws in my thinking that made my writing process more difficult.

The Denial
All too often, I find myself not believing or disliking that I have to do something difficult. In some convoluted way, I attach a stigma to the task at hand, which causes me to go into the process with a "glass half empty" sort of mindset. This certainly proved itself most when writing the first draft of this essay. I didn't feel like I had a very strong or clever idea in the first place, so I was even more reluctant to sit down in front of the keyboard.

The Communication
It was still relatively early in the year, and I didn't quite feel the level of comfort with asking questions as I do now. With that being said, a correction to the completion of e assignment, which mostly would have cleared up the blurriness of the whole things, would just have been to ask my teacher a question a two about my idea and layout fro the essay in its preliminary stages.

The Idea Itself
In relation to the communication disconnect, the development of the idea was also a contributing factor to the paper's lack of success. I believe that I should have delved deeper into the text and messages of the story in order to find a better claim. The claim should have been an idea that was present throughout the entire story, not just a symbol at the end of the book that I had to stretch too thin to fit my paper, not my paper fit it.

What I did like about my idea was that it was original and that it did connect to a symbol at the end of the book which other classmates of mine had many questions about. In a perfect world, I would have been able to start from scratch and use a new claim entirely. To begin with, I thought it was clever, but what I would change (given my stage in the writing process at the time of the writing process) is my support for my claim. I don't think that the support was entirely relevant, so I think that with some more time, communication, and a little bit less denial, my essay could have turned out better than it did and more how I envisioned it.