Playing With Words

Alright...25 pages later, I'm feeling a little sick of Green Day, but at least that paper's mostly done (shy of a few edits). And thanks to the combined efforts of Shannon, Jory, and Christina I managed to come up with an idea for my Nonfiction Essay. It took me 6 hours, but I've managed to get the rough draft done and, of course, I feel the need to share it with all of you. Aren't you glad?

It could be worse. The Green Day paper is staying far, far away from the public eye.

( A Girl's Guide to Dating Nerds )

The conclusion needs work but, all things considered, I don't think this turned out half-bad. Albeit, that could be the lack of sleep talking.

Either way, it'll get cleaned up after class. And, now that it's officially 5am, I'm thinking it's about time I gave bed a shot.

Night, people...

I love my writing class because, afterwards, my mind is always overflowing. On the drive home I always want to do something. Write. Rant. Blog. RP. Just... communicate.

Last night, I found myself doing a list. It was a normal list... the kind where I go over the various stresses and craziness and try to make sense of it. I thought about money, essay ideas, the research paper I'm panicking over, immunizations, classes I need to schedule, who I am, NaNo...And then, right in the middle of it all, was just one thought.

I'm happy.

It was so quick, just a blip before I moved on to the next thought of whether I could really write about voting for my next essay topic... before I realized it had even happened.

It's funny. The rants are still there. The insecurities and the worries and the complaints. They probably always will be. But I find that, recently, I am me again.

I enjoy class (even when I don't)
I can play with the thought of being in a relationship (even if I'm not really looking)
I can write my novel (even when it's silliness and I'm days behind in word count)
I can succeed in school (even when it's all brand new and still kind of scary)
I can make all this work.

I haven't felt like this in a long time.

Right away, when I got home, there was a mess of issues waiting to chase it away. I'm still so furiously angry... the feeling that comes from watching other people hurt your friends and knowing there's nothing you can do about it without just... making it worse.

But, underneath it all, that small seed of a realization is still there. My friends are strong and can look after themselves. My paper will be written. My NaNo will be finished. And I am happy again. Angry and happy and scared and determined all at the same time.

Maybe this is what healing feels like.

There's something intriguing about offensive language. Maybe it's the giddy thrill that goes with 'forbidden' fruits, like middle-schoolers snickering behind their hands at a "dirty" word. Maybe it's the catharsis of someone saying those words that circle in the back of your head but, for any number of reasons, never escape your lips.

There are songs in my iPod that I like more because of that edge. Radio edit version? No thanks.
There are jokes that are only as funny as they are risque.
There are speakers who are questionable at best and yet, even as I cringe, I admire them all the more.

I understand the power and appeal of the offensive.

What I don't understand is why people don't seem to understand the difference between a well-timed shock and carelessness.

In my writing class today, I found myself speaking up about questionable language that had been used in a couple of the pieces. Both times, I wasn't upset at the words they'd used or the assumptions they'd made. I was worried, though, at how readers would see them. Neither of the authors seemed to be trying to offend and I wanted to offer an alternative view, cautioning them that people with different backgrounds or experiences might read things in a way they weren't expecting.

Both times, I was immediately corrected by classmates who thought I was trying to get the authors to change their pieces. "Don't take that out." "You shouldn't care if people are offended." "It didn't bother me." So quick to jump in, I'm not sure they actually understood that I didn't have a problem with the word choice. I just thought others might.

I get it. I really do. We like offensive language and, honestly?, this world is already way too PC. But I wasn't advocating for Disney. I was asking for some consideration.

Words are such powerful things. You can inspire nations, incite riots, or soothe spirits with little more than well-chosen words. We communicate whole ideologies in songs, essays, blogs, and facebook statuses. We can, in essence, move mountains.

With that realization, it seems like asking for some thought about language isn't out of line. Shocking language comes at a cost. You will offend. And if you have something important to say (or even not so important), driving away half your audience is going to sort of spoil the show.

It's not about political correctness or worrying about offended sensibilities, though personally that's something I can't help but do. Rather, it's about intention. The true thrill of the shocking is that ability to say something powerful and edgy and make it stick. Make it mean something. If someone offends on accident, it's all well and good to blame the one who took it too seriously, but it doesn't change the fact that the message was lost.

I'm not saying I want to see prettified communication.
I'm not a fan of being PC.
What I am saying is, if someone is offended by your writing when you didn't intend for them to be, take it into consideration. Don't just brush it off. Maybe you seriously need to be more thoughtful with your word choice. It's impossible to anticipate all of the ways your words could be taken and you certainly don't need to bend to every wilting flower's whim...but it doesn't hurt to realize they're out there, either, whether that changes what you say or not.

And if you're going to offend, do it on purpose, with a merry "fuck off" to anyone who minds.

Because if you're going to piss someone off, you might as well do it with flair.

Edited for moar irony... this is the point where I wonder how many people I managed to offend. Lol.

It's funny... I actually got back my drive to write in this thing months ago. I'm back to being social. The overwhelming drama of wtfery is becoming much less overwhelming and I've been in a pretty good mood. There's just one problem.

In order to write about life... well... you kind of need to have one.

I've always been that person who did too much. Shan's given me hell about this for longer than I can remember. Hell... my very first character in roleplaying (who was basically me with better hair) had that oh-so-lovely character flaw. I just don't slow down. Ever.

Except, for the past several months, slow is all I've been.

Things are starting to pick up. I started classes last week, beginning the long journey towards getting my masters degree, and I really am excited, especially for the Nonfiction Writing class. I'm thinking Rhetorical Criticism will possibly kill me, but it will be an exciting death, at least. And it's nice to really stretch, mentally. I love teaching. There's no job I'd rather do. But there's a reason that I'm embarrassed to admit I'm an elementary education major in academic circles. Very rarely are we challenged to step up to do real, in depth research and study. It's nice stepping up and proving that, even if this isn't a standard part of my job, I'm capable... and pretty damn good at it. Or, at least, I'm hoping I will be. Otherwise this semester will be rough.

Outside of school, though, there's really not much.

Sure, there's the burning resentment towards my lovely previous district. I'll admit, there are still a few choice gestures that happen when I pass by the school at night, and it will be a long time before I can look back on these past three years in any positive light...but even that's become rather quiet.

I think that will change when I start trying to broaden my network of connections again. Right now I can ignore how much I miss teaching because I have a different focus and nothing is reminding me of what I left behind. Soon, though, I need to step back into the mix. I need to stay involved in the field so I have a chance of being hired next year.

Walking back into a classroom that isn't mine... knowing it'll be at least a year until I have that again?

I'll be honest... I'm scared.

I didn't want to start over. But I guess that's the name of the game. The hand was dealt. Now I've just got to play along as best I can.

"Ms. Justice, you are totally rockin' that outfit."

This makes my day. I like it more than the last comment a student made about my appearance.

Prepping for two days of substitutes is hell, but I'm now officially on my "weekend." Albeit, I have a treatment tomorrow and will likely spend the next several days feeling very sick, but at least I have no work to worry about until Monday.

Charli's wedding is on Sunday and I'm standing up as a bridesmaid. It's going to be difficult... but I can do this. For her, I can do this. And, to make it easier, my doctors are giving me a small prescription of extra anti-nausea meds. They said they won't help much (if at all) during the first 3 days because it's one of the drugs that's in my drug cocktail and more won't really be effective... but it'll help on the subsequent days, and the wedding is day 4. So the day I really need the extra help, I should have it.

I haven't liked myself very much these past few weeks. I've been very negative and super focused on the cancer and the treatments. I get frustrated, because I really want to think about other things. I don't like being defined by this situation, and I don't want to feel like I'm dependent on other people (like boyfriends) to actually be happy. I want to be happy in my own right, and it bothers me that I can't seem to achieve that right now. But I'm still fighting and I'm still surviving and the last of the terrible shots is tomorrow. If nothing else, I will be done with Adriamycin forever after tomorrow and that is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I can do this. I may not always handle misfortune with grace, but I will handle it. I will come through on the other side and, when I do, I will be smiling.

I promise.

I'm thinking of trying to get an off campus job. Seriously thinking.

I'm not sure whether I should. I have a full course load and I know I overbook myself easily. But I also need money, and I usually have more time than I really think I do.

I'm gonna be doing some serious praying for a bit. If I'm gonna do this I should really turn in my application today, before I go to choir. I have two hours to decide... Lord, help me.

I'm happy. This weekend was great. I think I'm ready for a new semester now.

Oh sleep... what is the meaning of this word?

The bad news: It's 2:30 in the AM, I have to be up in 4 1/2 hours, I am exhausted and I still have to iron my shirt for chapel tomorrow (Chrysalis is singing! No skipping! ::pauses:: wait... we don't know the songs... feel free to ditch) before I can go to bed

The good news: I worked my bum off tonight and I did it! I finished my resource file. I read the article for Language Arts/ Social Studies Methods and wrote a two page response to it. I completed my discussion board response (albeit, two minutes after the due date... I'll have to talk to Prof. Skalec), read a chapter for Children's Lit and took the quiz on said chapter. All of that in one day, running on one meal (dinner) and some left over cake during the SEA meeting. Oh... yeah... I also had a group meeting, a counseling session, and an SEA council meeting! And it's all finished! :D

Now for rest... At least I don't think I have to repeat this for a few days. lol. God is good.

Well, I've once again failed to do any writing for NaNoWriMo, but I did manage to edit one short story, write one persuasive argument, two process journals, one reflective paper, and I'm currently attempting to tackle a freewrite on my writer's portrait about Madeline L'Engle.

Some things I learned today:

Lesson #1: Don't let Jen roam freely in a library

Lesson #2: If Jen somehow manages to get free in a library, remind her that she has a ton of work to do and that, no matter how much she likes Madeline L'Engle and even if she has to read her nonfiction for the paper, it is not humanly possible to read 5 200 page books in one night.

Lesson #3: When Jen's on codine, she starts writing about herself in the third person.