If you hadn't guessed, three posts in four days was sufficient to qualify as "caught up" after not writing over the three week winter break which is why the onslaught of "Con-Son-Slaught" abruptly came to an end following my last post. Ironically enough, you also may have noticed that I haven't posted anything for about three weeks, reason being, I'm busy. My work load for this quarter is really starting to pile up and while I can't say I don't have any free time at all, I found watching Wilfred on Netflix much easier than writing a blog post or sonnet or editing my NaNoWriMo novel.
Since my last post I've started some new poetry projects; it's entirely probable they will join the 17 other sonnets I've left unfinished but these six most recent ones mean enough to me that I at least wrote more than one line, which, unfortunately, seems to be the way I work: I write down whatever line made me think it was such a great idea to begin with, and then, what took me less than a minute to write down, sits untouched for months. I hope to finish a few sonnets in a timely fashion but with the way this quarter is hammering me over the head, that probably won't happen.
Speaking of a timely fashion (ha), with the completion of this post I will have finally reached the point in time that I was planning on going up to with my first, "season two" post back in October of 2013. It has been a rather drawn out process but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way; had it been any different, both quality of this blog and my satisfaction in its expression would be severely diminished.
After three months of writing, here it is: the final chapter of "The Past One and a Half Years of My Average Life." Before I get to that, though, I'd like to cover the still relevant topic I said I might revisit -- windsurfing. When I first mentioned it in A Lahar of Tea and Fruit Snacks all I said was, "holy crap was it a workout." I actually don't have anything more to add about windsurfing; I just wanted to use it as a segway into my trip back to Minnesota after the Alaskan cruise.
A large portion of my time back in Minnesota was spent trying to get my uncle's old windsurf from about 1980 back in surfable condition. I must have spent a good ten hours trying to find all the parts, clean 30 years of filth off them, and figure out how they all fit together. Anyway, long story short, I spent all that time and sweat only to use the blasted thing twice. In my defense I'd like to say it was too windy in the wrong direction and, I'd like to add (though I may not be entirely telling the truth), it was the equipment that was faulty and not the operator. It wasn't the same kind of rig I used for my Beginning Windsurfing class, true, but how much of a difference in design can 30 years make, really? "Apparently quite a bit," so said my exhausted, puking form, collapsed in the shallows from having to paddle halfway across the lake when the wind pushed me there and I realized I wouldn't be able to surf my way back.
When I wasn't busy feeding the fish, I spent many enjoyable hours laying in the sun, reading A Song of Ice and Fire, and catching up on Breaking Bad. I went to visit some old high school friends too, but it's hard to catch up when you live 1,576 or more miles away, are on different school schedules, and only have an hour over coffee to do so. I still enjoyed the company of my friends but compared to other times, this visit felt different; I felt like a former employee with a visitor's badge -- an outsider. I guess that's bound to happen when everyone goes their separate ways to college and beyond but, all the same, it was disheartening to feel less than comfortable around the wonderful people that made high school as enjoyable of an experience as it can be.
I came back from Minnesota with a farmer's tan, slightly less of an esophageal lining but a greater sense of pride and determination, and a resolution to stay in better contact with friends, lest the only pillars I've built beneath a facade of indifference come crashing down.
I honestly don't remember much of what I did between Minnesota and the start of Fall quarter. That's not just because I spent a weekend up in Vancouver with my brother and mother sipping wine and stumbling/floating around Olympic Village, but because I just didn't do much of anything exciting; unless, of course, you consider sanding my mother's new kitchen cupboard doors with a power sander exciting. Coming back to school was just exchanging one grindstone for another. Most anything of significance that has happened these past two quarters has been incorporated sporadically throughout the retelling of these past few years, with the exception of seeing Ryan Stiles perform live in October. I haven't laughed that hard in years.
Lastly, I need to mention that I'll be attending the International Summer School at the University of Oslo, Norway this summer. More info on that to come soon.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Don't worry. Though this may be the end of another "season" of Concerning Sonnets, there won't be a year-and-a-half hiatus after this one like there was after the short-lived season 1, which ran from February 28th to April 11, 2012 if you wish to check the archives. These aren't seasons like those of a television show: there's no life-or-death cliffhanger at the end before a two year intermission (*cough* Sherlock *cough*); they're merely an imagined distinction between the phases of this blog. Season 1 was focused primarily on the poetry aspect while Season 2 has been focused on the retelling of my life since the end of season 1. Looking to the future, I hope to combine the poetry aspect of Season 1 and the journaling aspect of Season 2. I'd like to write more poetry while keeping up to date with current events in my life and maintain the spirit of creativity by recording any observations, anecdotes, or fanciful contrivances that come to mind in my day-to-day living of life.
Be sure to keep an eye out for occasional "interim" posts I'll use to put out a poem or two and as a way to keep you up to date on events as I finish up this busy school year and prepare for the "premier" of Season 3, which I hope will be sometime shortly after my return from Norway. But as can be imagined, most of my energies from now until then will be directed toward schoolwork, the editing of my NaNoWriMo novel, and the creation and population of a new blog devoted to my trip to Norway.
I apologize for the rather spasmodic nature of this post but there was much I wanted to cover before setting down the pen, so to speak. In addition to that, writing this over the space of a week hasn't lent itself to quality or continuity. Nevertheless, I hope you've enjoyed reading it along with all the sonnets, stories, and straightout shit of seasons now past. Here's looking forward to much of that and more; see you next season. - Neal Lee Digre
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2014 Neal Digre
A weekly blog of original sonnets, etc.
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
January 29, 2014
January 9, 2014
A Cruise & Course of Action: The Chundering of the Mind
Now that classes are kicking off I actually have things to do, which, ironically enough, makes me feel both less stressed and comfortable enough to be procrastinating on homework by watching Netflix and, if I'm in the mood, blogging. Still, I'd like to keep up with my writing. At some point I'd also like to start editing my NaNoWriMo novel but at the moment that seems far more time consuming than simply jotting down whatever my brain pukes up.
The writing process I go through for most of these posts isn't simply sitting down at the computer and pounding out the entire thing. Usually I'll start out by listing the events or ideas I want to cover as soon as they come to mind -- the chundering of the mind, if you will -- which might be weeks or even months before they're in a form read to be posted. Once I have the basic skeleton, an ample amount of time, and preferable but not necessary disposition for writing, I sit down for a more traditional extended period of time to get as much written as I possibly can. Often it takes many of these sessions to get something I feel resembles a complete post. Sometimes during this process I add a paragraph -- like this one -- just for the heck of it even though it wasn't part of my original idea. This way the post maintains an organic style that reflects what I want this blog as a whole to reflect: my unfiltered thoughts. Usually I'd take a few days to edit until I'm satisfied with what I've written but because I've been trying to post most every day this week, there has been minimal revision.
I now return you to this week's regularly scheduled chunder.
To refresh your memory of where I left off in the chronology of my life, I had just finished my summer courses: Sociolinguistics, Morphology, Tolkien's Imaginary Languages, and Beginning Windsurfing. A week after my last final I embarked on a cruise to Alaska, courtesy of my grandmother. As impressive as my family was with its matching bright red t-shirts -- complete with our names printed on the back (Yes, we're that family) -- lined up like bloody ducks in a row, we paled in comparison to the mind-numbing enormity of the ship: A seemingly immovable hulk of elegant exorbitance; but as with anything in this world, money somehow manages to transport tons of hollow luxury through the rough, briny waters of pecuniary straits, crowded by small, barnacle-covered fishing boats struggling to remain afloat in the wake of the ship.
The ship did have some redeeming qualities: 765 of them. I had much respect for the enthusiasm, hard work, and talent of the 765 crew members employed on the ship. With a smile on their face, they served, entertained, and waited hand-and-foot upon 2,435 pretentious passengers, even when their guests were less than polite. One morning at breakfast I saw a voluptuous woman yelling at her waiter because he had tried to take what must have been her third plate of food before she'd finished the last bite of seared ahi tuna. Of course, that isn't an accurate representation of all the passengers; many of them -- my family included -- were appreciative and respectful. It may even be that most passengers possessed a temperament similar to that of my family but a "free" all-you-can-eat buffet and 24-hour service can do unspeakable things to a person.
My general distaste for the pompous had very little affect on my overall enjoyment of the cruise; when forced to be aboard the ship I avoided or ignored them, spending my time reading for hours in the warm comfort of the solarium. Over the course of the seven day cruise, I think I made it through the first two and a half books of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin.
Relaxing as this was when the seas weren't rough, the shore excursions were the core of the cruise; and you can bet your bottom dollar that as soon as we were allowed to disembark I was off that floating pile of asphyxiating extravagance. From bear watching to whale watching, zip-lining to fish-taco-line-ing; from Craigdarroch Castle to Butchart Gardens; from Scenic Railways to phonemic word-plays; I did, I saw, I rode, I cleverly expressed. All for the pure and simple beauty of it.
Yet the most beautiful and awe inspiring sight of the entire cruise was the Dawes Glacier in the Endicott Arm Fjord with the Mendenhall Glacier coming in at a close second. To see a wall of ice the height of your 11 deck cruise ship shimmering in the early morning sun, flashing it's brilliant blue smile that can only hope to be replicated in the ungraspable depth of a fair blue sky, is a sight that I will never forget. The experience was made even more meaningful by the Geology course I took last fall. Something my professor said -- getting choked up before he dismissed the class -- moved me deeply: Unless my generation does something about CO2 emissions and Global warming and finds some way to fix the shit sandwich we've been handed, his children and my children and my children's children will never have the opportunity that I had -- to gaze upon the historical layers, wonder, and beauty of a glacier with their own eyes. The hard truth, though, is that even if we immediately reduce or eliminate anthropogenic causes of climate change, by the time it has an effect the world's glaciers will already be irrevocably diminished.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This post got a little depressing towards the end but I hope that anyone reading this takes it to heart and does something, anything to slow the undeniable climate change that is going on right now and ruining the beautiful planet we live on! If we don't, who will? -NLD
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2014 Neal Digre
The writing process I go through for most of these posts isn't simply sitting down at the computer and pounding out the entire thing. Usually I'll start out by listing the events or ideas I want to cover as soon as they come to mind -- the chundering of the mind, if you will -- which might be weeks or even months before they're in a form read to be posted. Once I have the basic skeleton, an ample amount of time, and preferable but not necessary disposition for writing, I sit down for a more traditional extended period of time to get as much written as I possibly can. Often it takes many of these sessions to get something I feel resembles a complete post. Sometimes during this process I add a paragraph -- like this one -- just for the heck of it even though it wasn't part of my original idea. This way the post maintains an organic style that reflects what I want this blog as a whole to reflect: my unfiltered thoughts. Usually I'd take a few days to edit until I'm satisfied with what I've written but because I've been trying to post most every day this week, there has been minimal revision.
I now return you to this week's regularly scheduled chunder.
To refresh your memory of where I left off in the chronology of my life, I had just finished my summer courses: Sociolinguistics, Morphology, Tolkien's Imaginary Languages, and Beginning Windsurfing. A week after my last final I embarked on a cruise to Alaska, courtesy of my grandmother. As impressive as my family was with its matching bright red t-shirts -- complete with our names printed on the back (Yes, we're that family) -- lined up like bloody ducks in a row, we paled in comparison to the mind-numbing enormity of the ship: A seemingly immovable hulk of elegant exorbitance; but as with anything in this world, money somehow manages to transport tons of hollow luxury through the rough, briny waters of pecuniary straits, crowded by small, barnacle-covered fishing boats struggling to remain afloat in the wake of the ship.
The ship did have some redeeming qualities: 765 of them. I had much respect for the enthusiasm, hard work, and talent of the 765 crew members employed on the ship. With a smile on their face, they served, entertained, and waited hand-and-foot upon 2,435 pretentious passengers, even when their guests were less than polite. One morning at breakfast I saw a voluptuous woman yelling at her waiter because he had tried to take what must have been her third plate of food before she'd finished the last bite of seared ahi tuna. Of course, that isn't an accurate representation of all the passengers; many of them -- my family included -- were appreciative and respectful. It may even be that most passengers possessed a temperament similar to that of my family but a "free" all-you-can-eat buffet and 24-hour service can do unspeakable things to a person.
My general distaste for the pompous had very little affect on my overall enjoyment of the cruise; when forced to be aboard the ship I avoided or ignored them, spending my time reading for hours in the warm comfort of the solarium. Over the course of the seven day cruise, I think I made it through the first two and a half books of "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R.R. Martin.
Relaxing as this was when the seas weren't rough, the shore excursions were the core of the cruise; and you can bet your bottom dollar that as soon as we were allowed to disembark I was off that floating pile of asphyxiating extravagance. From bear watching to whale watching, zip-lining to fish-taco-line-ing; from Craigdarroch Castle to Butchart Gardens; from Scenic Railways to phonemic word-plays; I did, I saw, I rode, I cleverly expressed. All for the pure and simple beauty of it.
Yet the most beautiful and awe inspiring sight of the entire cruise was the Dawes Glacier in the Endicott Arm Fjord with the Mendenhall Glacier coming in at a close second. To see a wall of ice the height of your 11 deck cruise ship shimmering in the early morning sun, flashing it's brilliant blue smile that can only hope to be replicated in the ungraspable depth of a fair blue sky, is a sight that I will never forget. The experience was made even more meaningful by the Geology course I took last fall. Something my professor said -- getting choked up before he dismissed the class -- moved me deeply: Unless my generation does something about CO2 emissions and Global warming and finds some way to fix the shit sandwich we've been handed, his children and my children and my children's children will never have the opportunity that I had -- to gaze upon the historical layers, wonder, and beauty of a glacier with their own eyes. The hard truth, though, is that even if we immediately reduce or eliminate anthropogenic causes of climate change, by the time it has an effect the world's glaciers will already be irrevocably diminished.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This post got a little depressing towards the end but I hope that anyone reading this takes it to heart and does something, anything to slow the undeniable climate change that is going on right now and ruining the beautiful planet we live on! If we don't, who will? -NLD
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2014 Neal Digre
November 20, 2013
A Lahar of Tea and Fruit Snacks
The blog post that has been twice postponed is finally flowing into your eyes, carried from my keyboard to your screen by a lahar of tea and fruit snacks. My summer was far too busy for me to write about the entire thing in one post so I'll just cover my summer classes and save the rest for a later post.
I returned from my grandmother's house -- bustling with friends and family stopping by with cards, condolences, and hot dish -- to an empty house but for the one remaining cat of the two that had made the long, hot journey out to Washington and the last and oldest of the three original cats I grew up with. It was hard those first few days being back: to still find Frisky's hair on everything; to not hear her at 6:00 in the morning, saying, "feed me." But Midnight -- my brother's cat -- was there to fill the six o'clock silence.
After learning to close my door at night, I woke up around 7:00 most every day. I would feed the cat before I poured myself a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats; most mornings I barely had time to pour the milk before Midnight had inhaled her canned food. After showering, I would do a few chores around the house: watering the flowers, picking lettuce for my lunch or sweeping the kitchen floor. At 8:41 I would load up my backpack and head out the door to drive the 28.4 miles to school for my 10:00 class. Why leave over an hour early to get someplace that takes 40 minutes,max to get to? because I'm the type of person that expects to be delayed by traffic driving through one of the least densely populated areas west of the Cascades and east of Puget Sound; I'm the type of person that thinks it'll take twenty minutes to walk from the parking lot to my classroom; I'm the type of person that has to be 20 minutes early anyway. Somehow I managed to make it to class on time. When my classes were done for the day I'd drive the 28.4 miles back home, do my homework, fry myself an egg or make half a box of Kraft Mac 'N' Cheese, proceed to eat it all in one sitting and then sit in a fake-cheese induced stupor watching television or YouTube until I went to bed around 11:00.
I found that having an entire house to myself suited me. Apart from the freedom it imparted, it was good to know that I'm capable of taking care of myself for an extended period of time. For the first time in my life, I had to go to the grocery store and get my own groceries -- not just the snacky stuff I keep in my dorm room for when I'm too lazy to go to the dining hall -- actual groceries. By no means did I go crazy with the pots and pans but I experimented with a few cornerstones of cooking. For instance, I'd never cooked my own eggs -- let alone Eggs in a Basket -- but by the time my mother returned home I could fry or scramble eggs with the best of the mediocrities. It's a great feeling knowing you can go without your mother or a dining hall for a month and not DIE. In addition to providing myself with the basic necessities of life, my time alone provided an opportunity to gauge how well I manage my own time. There wasn't anyone to remind me to do my homework or take out the trash; I must be okay at the whole time management thing, though, because the pile of Snickers wrappers never got over four inches high and I didn't fail any of my classes.
By far my favorite class from summer quarter was "Tolkien's Imaginary Languages." In addition to learning to read, write, and speak Elvish, the morphology of Dwarvish, and a few Black Speech words, I learned (almost) the entire history of Middle Earth. Not only was it a language, linguistics, and history class but also an art and literature appreciation class. This fusion of everything I'm interested in made it the best class I've ever taken, made better by the brilliant professor that taught it. Of course, I already knew how brilliant he is because he was my professor for "Intro to Russian Civilization" -- the prerequisite class I took in the Spring. In our stuides of Tolkien and his universe we covered everything from the origin of orcs to the unknown origin of hobbits; from Gandalf's real name to Saruman's Orcish one; from Beowulf to the Kalevala; from Tolkien's illustrations to his personal life; from the Creation of Middle Earth to the current Age of Man. It was on the Creation of Middle Earth that I did my final project. Middle Earth and the wider world of Arda were brought into existence through song; I decided to compose that song using Tolkien's "Ainulindalë" from The Silmarillion as a guide. I would never use GarageBand again largely because of it's uncooperativeness when it comes to details like 16th note triplets, instrumentation, or sound levels but it was nice (to begin with) for someone like me that had never composed a piece of music before because I could just mess around and listen for what sounded good. I will probably never compose another piece of music -- that's probably a good thing -- but it was a fun experience and I got an "A" for it so BAM!
My professor for the Tolkien course also taught the Morphology class I took. While I think much of that class went in one ear and out the other, the material must have hung around long enough for me to do well on the tests. Irregardless (that's a Morphology joke, by the way), it was a fascinating class and I am very glad to have taken it.
The other Linguistics class I took -- Sociolinguistics -- was far less interesting. Sociolinguistics is an intriguing subject but the professor failed to improve his performance from when I had him for "Intro to Linguistics" during spring quarter. He's the nicest little old man you'll ever meet but he is incapable of teaching a class. He's one of those professors where you think the class might be better if he didn't rely so heavily on videos but you're not sure so you're glad he does because you don't want to listen to any more of his mind-numbingly boring lectures. The best part about that class was his eclectic wardrobe; I never knew if he would show up to class wearing the tweed suit and clip-on bow tie he wears during the regular school year or a tie-die t-shirt, ripped khakis, one of those jackets with the leather strips hanging from the sleeves, and an old bandana to top it all off. Some days it felt like I'd missed the memo about "hippy day."
As a "for fun" class I also took "Beginning Windsurfing." I may revisit windsurfing in a later post but I don't want to spend too much time on it right now because this post has gone on long enough; I'll just say this: holy crap was it a workout.
Current NaNoWriMo word count: 32,010 words
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I know this is a poetry blog but I'm changing things up a bit; instead of a sonnet, I've posted the final project I did for my Tolkien class. After all, music is but a more pure form of poetry. Keep in mind that I used GarageBand (aka the crappiest software for composition ever), that this was my first attempt at composing ANYTHING, and that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. You have been warned.
I must also mention that some parts may sound familiar. I borrowed bits from the movie soundtracks partly because I was running out of time but mostly because I wanted a recognizable song associated with a certain character or scene to represent the creation of a particular race of beings (elves, men, hobbits, etc.).
Before you follow the link to my project please PLEASE read at least the first section (up to page three, paragraph 2 in the link I've provided) of Tolkien's Ainulindalë; if you do, my composition should make a little more sense and not seem as bad as it is.
READ THIS BEFORE FOLLOWING THE LINK BELOW!! ---> Tolkien's Ainulindalë Text
Sound Cloud: Tolkien Final Project -- Ainulindalë
I hope you enjoyed this week's post. I'll be back next week with -- I hope -- the rest of my summer and maybe even a brand new sonnet. Until then, have a great week! -NLD
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2013 Neal Digre
I returned from my grandmother's house -- bustling with friends and family stopping by with cards, condolences, and hot dish -- to an empty house but for the one remaining cat of the two that had made the long, hot journey out to Washington and the last and oldest of the three original cats I grew up with. It was hard those first few days being back: to still find Frisky's hair on everything; to not hear her at 6:00 in the morning, saying, "feed me." But Midnight -- my brother's cat -- was there to fill the six o'clock silence.
After learning to close my door at night, I woke up around 7:00 most every day. I would feed the cat before I poured myself a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats; most mornings I barely had time to pour the milk before Midnight had inhaled her canned food. After showering, I would do a few chores around the house: watering the flowers, picking lettuce for my lunch or sweeping the kitchen floor. At 8:41 I would load up my backpack and head out the door to drive the 28.4 miles to school for my 10:00 class. Why leave over an hour early to get someplace that takes 40 minutes,max to get to? because I'm the type of person that expects to be delayed by traffic driving through one of the least densely populated areas west of the Cascades and east of Puget Sound; I'm the type of person that thinks it'll take twenty minutes to walk from the parking lot to my classroom; I'm the type of person that has to be 20 minutes early anyway. Somehow I managed to make it to class on time. When my classes were done for the day I'd drive the 28.4 miles back home, do my homework, fry myself an egg or make half a box of Kraft Mac 'N' Cheese, proceed to eat it all in one sitting and then sit in a fake-cheese induced stupor watching television or YouTube until I went to bed around 11:00.
I found that having an entire house to myself suited me. Apart from the freedom it imparted, it was good to know that I'm capable of taking care of myself for an extended period of time. For the first time in my life, I had to go to the grocery store and get my own groceries -- not just the snacky stuff I keep in my dorm room for when I'm too lazy to go to the dining hall -- actual groceries. By no means did I go crazy with the pots and pans but I experimented with a few cornerstones of cooking. For instance, I'd never cooked my own eggs -- let alone Eggs in a Basket -- but by the time my mother returned home I could fry or scramble eggs with the best of the mediocrities. It's a great feeling knowing you can go without your mother or a dining hall for a month and not DIE. In addition to providing myself with the basic necessities of life, my time alone provided an opportunity to gauge how well I manage my own time. There wasn't anyone to remind me to do my homework or take out the trash; I must be okay at the whole time management thing, though, because the pile of Snickers wrappers never got over four inches high and I didn't fail any of my classes.
By far my favorite class from summer quarter was "Tolkien's Imaginary Languages." In addition to learning to read, write, and speak Elvish, the morphology of Dwarvish, and a few Black Speech words, I learned (almost) the entire history of Middle Earth. Not only was it a language, linguistics, and history class but also an art and literature appreciation class. This fusion of everything I'm interested in made it the best class I've ever taken, made better by the brilliant professor that taught it. Of course, I already knew how brilliant he is because he was my professor for "Intro to Russian Civilization" -- the prerequisite class I took in the Spring. In our stuides of Tolkien and his universe we covered everything from the origin of orcs to the unknown origin of hobbits; from Gandalf's real name to Saruman's Orcish one; from Beowulf to the Kalevala; from Tolkien's illustrations to his personal life; from the Creation of Middle Earth to the current Age of Man. It was on the Creation of Middle Earth that I did my final project. Middle Earth and the wider world of Arda were brought into existence through song; I decided to compose that song using Tolkien's "Ainulindalë" from The Silmarillion as a guide. I would never use GarageBand again largely because of it's uncooperativeness when it comes to details like 16th note triplets, instrumentation, or sound levels but it was nice (to begin with) for someone like me that had never composed a piece of music before because I could just mess around and listen for what sounded good. I will probably never compose another piece of music -- that's probably a good thing -- but it was a fun experience and I got an "A" for it so BAM!
My professor for the Tolkien course also taught the Morphology class I took. While I think much of that class went in one ear and out the other, the material must have hung around long enough for me to do well on the tests. Irregardless (that's a Morphology joke, by the way), it was a fascinating class and I am very glad to have taken it.
The other Linguistics class I took -- Sociolinguistics -- was far less interesting. Sociolinguistics is an intriguing subject but the professor failed to improve his performance from when I had him for "Intro to Linguistics" during spring quarter. He's the nicest little old man you'll ever meet but he is incapable of teaching a class. He's one of those professors where you think the class might be better if he didn't rely so heavily on videos but you're not sure so you're glad he does because you don't want to listen to any more of his mind-numbingly boring lectures. The best part about that class was his eclectic wardrobe; I never knew if he would show up to class wearing the tweed suit and clip-on bow tie he wears during the regular school year or a tie-die t-shirt, ripped khakis, one of those jackets with the leather strips hanging from the sleeves, and an old bandana to top it all off. Some days it felt like I'd missed the memo about "hippy day."
As a "for fun" class I also took "Beginning Windsurfing." I may revisit windsurfing in a later post but I don't want to spend too much time on it right now because this post has gone on long enough; I'll just say this: holy crap was it a workout.
Current NaNoWriMo word count: 32,010 words
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I know this is a poetry blog but I'm changing things up a bit; instead of a sonnet, I've posted the final project I did for my Tolkien class. After all, music is but a more pure form of poetry. Keep in mind that I used GarageBand (aka the crappiest software for composition ever), that this was my first attempt at composing ANYTHING, and that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. You have been warned.
I must also mention that some parts may sound familiar. I borrowed bits from the movie soundtracks partly because I was running out of time but mostly because I wanted a recognizable song associated with a certain character or scene to represent the creation of a particular race of beings (elves, men, hobbits, etc.).
Before you follow the link to my project please PLEASE read at least the first section (up to page three, paragraph 2 in the link I've provided) of Tolkien's Ainulindalë; if you do, my composition should make a little more sense and not seem as bad as it is.
READ THIS BEFORE FOLLOWING THE LINK BELOW!! ---> Tolkien's Ainulindalë Text
Sound Cloud: Tolkien Final Project -- Ainulindalë
I hope you enjoyed this week's post. I'll be back next week with -- I hope -- the rest of my summer and maybe even a brand new sonnet. Until then, have a great week! -NLD
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2013 Neal Digre
November 13, 2013
A Sudden Storm of NaNoWriMo
I would have liked to get caught up to at least the beginning of the current quarter but when I think about how busy my summer was, that's not going to happen. As busy as it was, my summer didn't involve powerful emotions like those associated with the loss of a cat or grandparent. Without those emotions to fuel the wood stove of creativity I find it more difficult to write about my own life. In addition, NaNoWriMo has been sucking a lot of my time, energy, and words. I still want to do justice to a recapitulation of my summer, though, so I'm going to postpone that tale until next week... or whenever I get around to writing it. Instead I'll just give an update on NaNoWriMo, post a sonnet and call it good for the week.
Here I am, in the middle of the second full week of 1667 words per day and I'm barely hanging on to the bullet train that is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is my second year doing NaNoWriMo and my second year deciding on a story at 11:30 pm on October 31st. It was a bit of a slow start but now that my plot has clicked in my mind things are moving along. But I don't want them to. Coming up with plot has never been a problem for me; where I struggle is in description and character development. But trying to work on what I suck at can be problematic when NaNoWriMo's only purpose is to get words on the page -- a lot of them. Whether they're total crap or not makes a rat's fart of difference but I as sure as taxes better make my word count for the day or things of a terrifying and inexplicable nature will happen. So when it comes to deciding between sitting here for an hour struggling with a paragraph of description or blazing ahead and leaving the essence my story far behind, I choose the latter. I have to remind myself that NaNoWriMo isn't just about writing a lot of words, it's fighting through a paragraph of description here and there; it's closing all seventeen of those YouTube tabs and opening up a blank document; it's, for one month, devoting yourself entirely to something most people would have to be crazy to do (oh wait... never mind) while at the same time not forgetting to eat, do homework, go to your job, talk to family, acknowledge friends, etc.; it's getting better at the process of writing -- if not writing 50,000 words then maybe 35,000 or 3,000. As long as new words are being created and a story is being told, I've succeeded.
Current Word Count: 20,394
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apart from spending time with family and friends, one of the things I miss most about Minnesota is a good ol' Midwest thunderstorm. Living in the Seattle area ensures plenty of rain but very little thunder and lightning to accompany it. Even though my first trip (of two) back to Minnesota this past summer was only for a few days, the storm gods answered my prayers.
The wall of wind hits first, shaking the trees to within an inch of their life. Some can't handle it and soon many small branches and a few larger ones litter the ground. Inside the house, looking at the chaos through a pane of glass, it's nearly silent; only the muffled rustle of one hundred thousand leaves brushing against one another as they whip back and forth and a faint whistle coming through the crack under the back door can be heard. Then there's an intense flash of light immediately followed by a sonorous boom and the soft tinkle of dishes in the cupboard. When I step outside the wind whips at my t-shirt, trying to whisk me away along with thousands of leaves that were too weak to hold on. I stand firm, exhilarated by the darkening sky pierced by bent batons of light conducting the cacophonous roars of one hundred angry giants. The wind soon dies down but is succeeded by a deluge of rain. I stand under the overhang watching the rain fall in heavy sheets. Before heading back inside I step out from beneath the overhang long enough to get my hair just wet enough so that droplets of water can caress their way down the side of my face and the back of my neck. Once inside, I sit at the kitchen table sipping a hot cup of tea and listening to the placid pitter-patter of heavy raindrops overhead and the rumble of distant thunder.
Summer Thunderstorm
Divine one blissful thunderclap so few
Allow to crash upon in silent waves:
Omnipotent applause. As here with you
I lie not even clouds obstruct my gaze.
Auroral lightning flash afore our minds
Moreover blinds excessive sense absolved
By ribbons of torrential rain and winds
Around us gust the only ones involved.
Immersed in tides far more than falling tears,
Now drowned beneath euphoric hearts entwined
Beyond tornados twirling fate in peaceful years;
Eternal dark dispelled by flames mankind.
Within this flood forever snug and warm
I watch this passing Summer Thunderstorm.
I can't promise anything but I'll do my best to get, at the very least, a recapitulation of my summer classes written for next week's post. Until then, I'm logging off. There's a story to be written. Have a great rest of your week! - NLD
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2013 Neal Digre
Apart from spending time with family and friends, one of the things I miss most about Minnesota is a good ol' Midwest thunderstorm. Living in the Seattle area ensures plenty of rain but very little thunder and lightning to accompany it. Even though my first trip (of two) back to Minnesota this past summer was only for a few days, the storm gods answered my prayers.
The wall of wind hits first, shaking the trees to within an inch of their life. Some can't handle it and soon many small branches and a few larger ones litter the ground. Inside the house, looking at the chaos through a pane of glass, it's nearly silent; only the muffled rustle of one hundred thousand leaves brushing against one another as they whip back and forth and a faint whistle coming through the crack under the back door can be heard. Then there's an intense flash of light immediately followed by a sonorous boom and the soft tinkle of dishes in the cupboard. When I step outside the wind whips at my t-shirt, trying to whisk me away along with thousands of leaves that were too weak to hold on. I stand firm, exhilarated by the darkening sky pierced by bent batons of light conducting the cacophonous roars of one hundred angry giants. The wind soon dies down but is succeeded by a deluge of rain. I stand under the overhang watching the rain fall in heavy sheets. Before heading back inside I step out from beneath the overhang long enough to get my hair just wet enough so that droplets of water can caress their way down the side of my face and the back of my neck. Once inside, I sit at the kitchen table sipping a hot cup of tea and listening to the placid pitter-patter of heavy raindrops overhead and the rumble of distant thunder.
Summer Thunderstorm
Divine one blissful thunderclap so few
Allow to crash upon in silent waves:
Omnipotent applause. As here with you
I lie not even clouds obstruct my gaze.
Auroral lightning flash afore our minds
Moreover blinds excessive sense absolved
By ribbons of torrential rain and winds
Around us gust the only ones involved.
Immersed in tides far more than falling tears,
Now drowned beneath euphoric hearts entwined
Beyond tornados twirling fate in peaceful years;
Eternal dark dispelled by flames mankind.
Within this flood forever snug and warm
I watch this passing Summer Thunderstorm.
I can't promise anything but I'll do my best to get, at the very least, a recapitulation of my summer classes written for next week's post. Until then, I'm logging off. There's a story to be written. Have a great rest of your week! - NLD
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Liked this post? Didn't like it?
Leave some feedback and let me know why! I'm always seeking to improve.
Thanks for reading!
Unpublished material, ©2013 Neal Digre
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)