I have had many people say to me that my degree in English is useless. It used to affect me, and then it stopped, and now I realized that it should never have mattered in the first place.
I didn't go to school to get a degree. I went there to get an education and a learning experience. And I got plenty of that.
My degree may be useless now, but the education and the experience I got are not. My knowledge of literature has been more useful than any knowledge I have. It helps me as a writer to know different kinds of writing, different styles of writing, different usages of the English language. It also helps me as an improviser; I can't estimate to what degree the things I have read affect the characters and scenes I do on stage.
I love this field of study. I think it's important, and it is underrated. I chose to study what I loved, and I still love it so much that I never stopped studying it. I know very few people who have this kind of relationship with what they study.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
I'm serious!!!! (?)
I know I have a serious problem when even my parents call me out on it.
Within the last three weeks alone, if I got a penny for every time somebody told me I was too serious, I took things too serious, I needed to relax, and anything to the similar effect, I would have quite a pocketful.
I didn't realize I was harming myself and my arts. Actually, I did realize I was harming myself. I got angry often, I got all kinds of ache and pain from the tension, and I said and did a lot of terrible things to others.
My improvising also suffered. I lost the joy of being on stage, of doing scenes and playing characters. I felt drained, burned out, uninspired.
I continued to read as much as I could, but I could never read enough to satisfy me. As a result I got stressed out about not being able to accomplish all that I set out to do.
I could barely write.
A few days ago I was so overwhelmed by all the things I planned to do this month, so I wrote them up on the whiteboard. The photo above demonstrates the kind of torture I put myself through on regular basis. For some reason I didn't see the problem with it.
My parents know very little about what I do each day, and even they think that I take everything too seriously. They see how stingy I am with money, how much reading I do, etc. They hear me sing a lot, but they probably think that I take it as a serious activity too. And I do.
Anyway, I just want to let those who care know that I understand the problem now. Many of you have told me about it but I had to see it for myself, and it took me a while. I'm glad I have so many people in my life who care about me. I know you guys think I'm insane now, but have faith that I can still turn myself around. Wait for me.
xoxo,
Savira.
PS. If anyone wanna give me some free pot, it would really help. Thanks.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Evaluating my Negativity
I have many patterns of behavior conspicuously apparent upon observing my own history. One of which is the topic of this discussion. I'm not sure if it's truly a bad thing--it certainly has some bad effects attached--but I have a tendency to turn my favorite hobbies into serious pursuits. The first of the series of examples is classical singing. I was sixteen when I joined my high school choir, and all I wanted to do was to sing and enjoy the beauty of the music. However, soon afterward it became an obsession. I was working so hard trying to be the best I can possibly be. I woke up early before school to practice sight-singing. I took weekly voice lessons, and spent about three hours everyday working on my voice. I was in two to three choirs, while occasionally performed in musicals. While I enjoyed the process to some degree, I also had a hard time dealing with the failures and let it destroy me on many occasions. It wasn't until I gave up my dream to do music as a profession that I actually began to truly enjoy expressing myself through music and felt immensely more confident in my voice.
In college I began to do the same thing with literature. One of the reasons I chose English as my major was because I loved to read. Reading was one of my most favorite hobbies. Nowadays, when people ask me if I am reading something "for fun," the answer is simply that "I do not read anything for fun." Sometimes I have fun reading something, but surely that is not the reason I picked up the book. Everything I read serves to benefit my studies. I NEVER read for fun. There is no such thing as "pleasure reading" in my life.
And now that I'm working harder and harder everyday on becoming an improviser, I feel the need to criticize everything improv-related in the same way that I criticize the books I read. I do it in order to learn. But by doing so, it makes my focus on the activity very negative. Again, I do gain a considerable amount of pleasure from the activity, but I do spend a lot of my time on criticizing the progress and pondering upon my weaknesses and failures.
After my class yesterday I thought back about all the characters and scenes that I did, and I was surprised by how many ways I was able to enter the scene with aggression and judgment. Many--I'm a natural at it, but it's bad for the work that we do. My understanding is that my negative attitude toward the activity is so tremendous that it affects my performance.
While I admit that this tendency of mine has by far been destructive, I also believe that it is, on many levels, constructive. I don't think it necessarily is a bad thing to acknowledge your flaws and try to fix them. I suppose my problem is that I dwell too much on the negative, and that I need to do more of the opposite and keep the balance between the two in order to not let myself sink into the dark pit of self-destruction, as an artist and as a person.
In college I began to do the same thing with literature. One of the reasons I chose English as my major was because I loved to read. Reading was one of my most favorite hobbies. Nowadays, when people ask me if I am reading something "for fun," the answer is simply that "I do not read anything for fun." Sometimes I have fun reading something, but surely that is not the reason I picked up the book. Everything I read serves to benefit my studies. I NEVER read for fun. There is no such thing as "pleasure reading" in my life.
And now that I'm working harder and harder everyday on becoming an improviser, I feel the need to criticize everything improv-related in the same way that I criticize the books I read. I do it in order to learn. But by doing so, it makes my focus on the activity very negative. Again, I do gain a considerable amount of pleasure from the activity, but I do spend a lot of my time on criticizing the progress and pondering upon my weaknesses and failures.
After my class yesterday I thought back about all the characters and scenes that I did, and I was surprised by how many ways I was able to enter the scene with aggression and judgment. Many--I'm a natural at it, but it's bad for the work that we do. My understanding is that my negative attitude toward the activity is so tremendous that it affects my performance.
While I admit that this tendency of mine has by far been destructive, I also believe that it is, on many levels, constructive. I don't think it necessarily is a bad thing to acknowledge your flaws and try to fix them. I suppose my problem is that I dwell too much on the negative, and that I need to do more of the opposite and keep the balance between the two in order to not let myself sink into the dark pit of self-destruction, as an artist and as a person.
Friday, March 5, 2010
My Love for Old Things
I felt in love with ancient Thai mythology as soon as I was introduced to it—I was perhaps nine or ten. These myths had their roots in Hindu mythology; the characters and the stories were adopted by Thai people, much it the same way, I imagine, that Greek mythology was adopted by the Romans. The works were written in a form of an epic poem, but I was much too young to read such works; instead I would beg my parents to buy me the children books that presented these works in an easy form appropriate for children. I enjoyed these stories, most of which were about adventures, wars, and sex, just as much as I did the illustrations. The giant with ten heads, the monkey with diamond-studded tongue, and the large-breasted mermaid were some of the characters I still remember. I even had figurines of some of these characters, and a book of illustrations of these characters was among one of my most cherished possession. I remember being surprised to learn that many found such exciting works to be a bore, and that not everybody was as captivated by these tales and characters as I was. Later I developed a sense of pride in my old soul and my unique appreciation for these dying works.
I don’t remember when the strong affection for these works left me, but by the time I moved to the US I didn’t really have any longing for them. However, I later discovered that my willingness to embrace great arts from the past had never ceased. I began to develop a fascination for old architectures and cultures of the West. As a choir singer in high school, I was quick to embrace classical music, opera, and Broadway musicals from the early decades of the 20th century—the latter may not be considered in the same category as the formers, but nonetheless they were born in the times before mine. It was also in high school that I was introduced to Shakespeare and literature of the 19th century, which soon became lifelong pursuits. Subsequently I chose English as a major in college, after which I was exposed to ancient mythology of the West. It was then that I remembered my long forgotten friends—the giant, monkey and mermaid—with whom I had spent so much of my childhood. I don’t know much about them now, and to find them again seems too troublesome a task. But it is the recollection of where I had come from, and to see the trace of how I had become who I am, is a rewarding result of self-reflection.
I don’t remember when the strong affection for these works left me, but by the time I moved to the US I didn’t really have any longing for them. However, I later discovered that my willingness to embrace great arts from the past had never ceased. I began to develop a fascination for old architectures and cultures of the West. As a choir singer in high school, I was quick to embrace classical music, opera, and Broadway musicals from the early decades of the 20th century—the latter may not be considered in the same category as the formers, but nonetheless they were born in the times before mine. It was also in high school that I was introduced to Shakespeare and literature of the 19th century, which soon became lifelong pursuits. Subsequently I chose English as a major in college, after which I was exposed to ancient mythology of the West. It was then that I remembered my long forgotten friends—the giant, monkey and mermaid—with whom I had spent so much of my childhood. I don’t know much about them now, and to find them again seems too troublesome a task. But it is the recollection of where I had come from, and to see the trace of how I had become who I am, is a rewarding result of self-reflection.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Welcome!
Despite the unpopularity of my previous blog, books4lunch, I have decided to launch a new blog.
The reason is because I need a place to vent, and to share my ventiliage with others. I have so much going on in my head and I need to get it out somehow. And it's always nice to have at least the delusion that somebody is listening. I don't want to be one of those bitches who dominate the conversation by talking on and on about their lives and forcing others to listen for fear of being rude, so I'm gonna do it here where you have the option of turning me off whenever you want.
My previous blog is about literature, which I thought was interesting, but apparently not to anybody else. Well, I'm hoping to gain more readership here; if not, fuck you--see if i care!
Just kidding. I love you. Especially because you're reading this. Stay tune for more wisdom and insights from my scattered brain.
xoxo
Savira.
The reason is because I need a place to vent, and to share my ventiliage with others. I have so much going on in my head and I need to get it out somehow. And it's always nice to have at least the delusion that somebody is listening. I don't want to be one of those bitches who dominate the conversation by talking on and on about their lives and forcing others to listen for fear of being rude, so I'm gonna do it here where you have the option of turning me off whenever you want.
My previous blog is about literature, which I thought was interesting, but apparently not to anybody else. Well, I'm hoping to gain more readership here; if not, fuck you--see if i care!
Just kidding. I love you. Especially because you're reading this. Stay tune for more wisdom and insights from my scattered brain.
xoxo
Savira.
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