Brief notes on writing and an American epidemic

A few notes:

-My posts will be fewer and further between because I am a very busy man. I'm taking 6 classes, working 30 hours a week, attempting to put together a portfolio of writing for grad school aps, and reading "Ulysses" which is a total bitch of a book. All this said, I am still going to attempt to write two posts a week. I'm formulating one based around the election- basically, I'm an Obama man myself, and to celebrate his victories last week, and in preview of the upcoming primary in Wisconsin, I wanted to write about the wonderful road trip possibilities of Maryland, Virginia, Washington D.C., and Wisconsin. I've spent a lot of time driving through all these places (family in Wisconsin, a best friend in Baltimore, and an ex-girlfriend in Virginia will do that to you), and they all offer up some fantastic opportunities for a long weekend drive.

-I want to respond briefly to two of Andrew's posts. I, too, want to drive through Montana. I'm not sure what the appeal is, but the words "big sky country" conjure in me images of vast, windblown plains beneath a lustrous, clear afternoon sky filled with languid cumulous clouds drifting past. It's a place that, to me, embodies the spirit of a road trip: nothing but open road in both directions, no one but you and your car and some good tunes. You roll your windows down, let in the sweet smelling, mild great plains air, and just cruise until you can't cruise anymore. So as you can see, my desire to drive through Montana is more cliche than Andrew's- I'm not one who drives for the sake of accomplishment, I drive for those token moments of American transcendence that have made "road travelogues" such an emblematic part of our culture.

The second post of Andrew's I'll address is the one about The College of New Jersey, also affectionately called the NGay. Yes, Andrew and I do have some mighty fond memories of our trips to the NGay. My experience at TCNJ can be summed up by a hungover me jolting awake in horror at around 8:30 am, fully clothed and sitting upright, a dull headache pulsing in my temples, wondering where in the fuck I am and how in the fuck I got here. It's not a terribly glorious legacy, or one that I would recommend anyone try to replicate, but it's what I've got. My latest sojourn to the NGay resulted in Joe cooking a shitload of pasta, the two of us pounding an entire bottle of rum in about 30 minutes, a spirited round of darts, me falling into a bush, and some wildly inappropriate facebook messaging (I apologize, Sarah Schachner...I hardly knew ye'). Needless to say, everything that took place after the bottle of rum is hazy at best in my memory. It was dangerously irresponsible, but also way, way, way too much fun. God bless the NGay.

-On a far more sobering and responsible note:
In lieu of the tragic shootings at Northern Illinois University, and as we near the one year anniversary of the Virgina Tech massacre, I want to reiterate a point I made a few months ago after the untimely and tragic death of Sean Taylor: this country has a serious, serious violence problem. Gun violence is the most extreme form of this epidemic, but violence is every where in America- from football to video games to the disturbing rise in popularity of the barbaric MMA fighting shows and their ilk. This is not a black problem nor a white problem. It's not a male problem or a female problem. It's an American problem. Until we pragmatically address these issues- by seriously analyzing why we're so drawn to the spectacle of two men beating each other to a pulp, by enacting real gun control legislation- tragic events like the ones in DeKalb, Illinois, and Blacksburg, Virginia, will continue to be a regular part of our news cycle. I'm aware this is not road trip-centric, but I did take a trip to Northern Illinois University in the fall of my junior year. I was working for the Temple football team, and we had a game in DeKalb. I was only there for a night, but the students I met went out of their way to be hospitable and kind. The campus seemed to be a vibrant community in the midst of a vast nothingness (oh the corn fields of the midwest...). I hope those students I met are safe and with their families. Our prayers go out to those students who were injured, and especially to the families of those who lost their lives.

So Andrew gets off his literary high horse

All right, all right. You want me to write, Andrew? I'll write. The man has questioned both my sexuality and, one too many times, my dedication as a writer. I would like to say that I have been writing- three short stories and, hopefully, a novel- so it's not a question of motivation. It's just been a question of priority (granted, no one reads my stories just like no one reads this blog) and a question of topicality: I haven't had any road trip things to add, and the one time I went off topic, Andrew chastised me. That said, I'll follow Andrew's lead and go slightly off topic here (with a little big of trip tid bits here and there).

First and foremost, as to the writing process, I can certainly understand Andrew's frustration. Obviously, I am a writing major, and aspire to someday be a writer myself. Really, writing is like any art: you have to be honest to yourself, and you have to realize that perfection isn't a legitimate possibility. It just isn't going to happen, so there's no use worrying about it. I know Andrew, and many writers, worry about choosing the right word, worry about sounding stupid or awkward, and because of this, either don't write or don't let people see their writing. I can vouch for myself, and I imagine Matt would agree: a majority of my writing sucks. That's how you get better as a writer- you write, and a lot of times it sucks, a lot of times you're convinced it's terrible, but that's how you improve: practice, trial and error, learning from your mistakes. The reason I write, other than my love for the written word, for creation, for hopefully illuminating what I think are the beauties of this world for other people, is for that moment when you write that sentence or paragraph of story where everything comes out exactly the way you imagined it would. Perfection, as I said earlier, isn't a sustainable goal in writing. It is possible in small doses, though, and those doses make it all so rewarding. Of course, the only way you reach that is by practice, practice, practice. So, Andrew- and anyone else who might stumble on this- don't get hung up, don't get discouraged. Writing isn't about perfection in the long term (hell, it's not even in the short term). It's about exploring yourself and the world around you. Just write, and keep writing.

As for Matthew. Yes, New Year's was pretty fucking incredible. Everyone was at the top of their game. Some moments of mine that were particular favorites:
-Andrew being Andrew. Namely, his stumbling and bumbling around the room, him putting up his dukes to fight Ben, and being an all around belligerent misanthrope for the latter half of the evening. Absolutely my favorite part of the night.
-Matthew's imaginary fight with Andrew.
-Everyone ganging up to tackle Ben. He certainly had it coming.
-Eric's four hot dogs.
-Above all, the rare occasion where we were able to get all six of us together in the same place.

Lastly, Ben and I took a kind of road trip (as Matt alluded to in his piece) to the beautiful United States Virgin Islands. While it was not a traditional road trip, we spent a lot of our time there in cars, although it was mostly hanging on for dear life while being flung around hair pin turns by sleazy, rip off cabbies. It was a wonderful trip- probably more eventful than I can recap here (and let's be honest, I've made sure you all heard the highlights already anyway...and if not, I'd be more than happy to enlighten you). I wanted to say that although it was not a tradtional road trip, it accomplished what I think any good trip hopes to accomplish- it brought people together who usually don't get to spend time together. It brought my entire extended family together for a week, and it brought Ben and Matt (Nate's friend) into the fold, too, and I know by the end of the week, they both felt like Pahls (for better or worse). Above all, it gave me, perhaps most pleasurably, a chance to grow closer with my brother. We've never been close, and I think everyone knows we aren't exactly similar beings, so to have a week where we spent a majority of our time together- and enjoyed that time- was a wonderful development. As I said, that is what I think any kind of trip is for: to bring people closer. So in that lens, both New York and the Virgin Islands were very successful trips.

Now Andrew can shut up, hopefully.

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

Two posts in as many days. Rock on us! We're back, and this time to we're gonna keep it going, at-least until finals and other academic dribble takes over. But now I want to address the idea of blogging, and by extension my writing process. First let me say I do not consider myself a strong writer, and by no means do I enjoy writing. This maybe not be something you would expect a blogger to say, especially one who's posts ramble on with self-loving obliviousness to the readers, but hell, nobody reads this anyway. So I struggle and stumble over every word, revise and edit, and end up just as annoyed as I was to start. Consequently each post I write ends up getting written over the course of several days, and any possible sense of cohesion is in the trash next to the first three drafts, and several other concepts/ideas I could not seem to articulate and I wouldn't with myself, or this hijacked pseudonym. My Voodoo recap, I promise its coming soon, has been started on three separate occasions, and my current version is in a state of disrepair similar to parts New Orleans itself.

Part of my continual battle with these posts, comes from my uncertainty on how to approach blogging, my subjects, and the readers. I think my own writing style can be wordy, polluted with run-ons and asides. I find myself trying to balance a critical academic approach with youthful honesty and cerisma. Of course I would like to blend the two, and that would be the accurate representation of me, but too often I see the results as heavy handed its simplicity or stale and unoriginal. But enough of my whining.

So now you know, that despite literary handicap I am often trying to provide a new post that you will hopefully enjoy enough to read to the end. As for the laziness of my colleagues, well that rests squarely on their sub-six foot shoulders. They often tell me of their ability to run off several pages in a few hours time when class and their procrastination demand it, yet they appear unfit to complete a weekly, forget semi-daily, written exercise in creative opinionation or brainstorming for what will surely be a defining event in our lives.

Look for my Voodoo recap and destinations of interest in upcoming posts.