All Over the Place

I've had a little more time to let my session with Snitow sit with me. Thinking back on it, she seemed really enthusiastic about my interest in being better at what I'm doing. She showed an interest in my topics while also letting me know that it would be tough. And it wasn't until I spoke with Cornelia tonight that my ideas began to take a little more shape. Snitow mentioned a German filmmaker by the name of Werner Fussbinder who made a movie called In einem Jahr mit 13 Monden (In a year of 13 moons). It deals with the tragic nature of a transgendered person in society. I found out later from Cornelia, who told me that the character basically removes himself from society. She said she was excited that Snitow suggested it. Cornelia has an undergrad degree in film studies and she also works at a place called the Goethe Institute, which is a German library. She'll be able to get me the video for free, and I imagine she'll end up giving me some guidance as I attempt to wade through my thoughts on it once I watch it. She also said she would be willing to supply me with a list of movies on this subject. Snitow helped me to see that I'm interested in the ambiguities that exist within identities. I'm not sure if I mentioned this earlier but she also suggested I use my story in the thesis, which is something I'm not totally keen on. At least I wasn't. Later in the day, I paid a visit to my writing professor. I told her that I was afraid of writing. There are so many different kinds and being in an academic setting, one feels pressure to write academically. I am among those in this group. And it's really messed me up. After I said this to her, she went on to tell me that I really had a good style and the word and phrase choices that I make are really effective. She said some more really good stuff, but I forgot the rest. I told Monroe (writing prof) what Snitow said about using memoir in the thesis and Monroe said that would definitely be a good idea, suggesting that I use the piece I turned into her a couple of weeks ago. Our final paper for this class can be an expanded version of something we wrote during the semester, so I'm going to expand my memoir. Then I went to class. I wasn't that nervous as the class begun. Remember, an excerpt of my memoir was going to be critiqued. We did the other one first and that's when I started getting nervous. It's a strange thing to sit among a group of people who are commenting on your writing, but I had no choice and so, with my heart beating just a little harder, I prepared myself for the worst. I didn't mind the first critical comment, which had to do with this sentence: "This knowing comfort, however, did not last." It was the first sentence of the excerpt and the class didn't know where it came from. The second critical comment was really funny. Well, what happened after the comment was really funny. Not too many people were jumping to comment. Fine by me. Now you may remember Squeaky (who I used to call Poindexter, who I now think I'll start calling Britannica). Every time Squeaky talks, we all start looking at each other. Without fail, as Anna pointed out a few weeks ago, there are at least two literary references in everything he says. And he didn't let us down tonight. So up until this point, it had been relatively quiet. And then Squeaky spoke. He had a problem with my use of the word "slurs" in this portion of a sentence: "and such innocent-enough slurs as 'you look like a little monkey,' from my third-grade teacher after getting our school pictures back." There was a split second of silence and then practically all 17+ people in the class began to cut him down at once. I don't know what anyone said because, well, they were all talking at once. What ensued was a eight or so minute discussion on my use of the word "slurs," during which most of the time Squeaky spent defending his comment. It was really entertaining. The rest went smoothly. "I really like the way the writer juxtaposed the long, rather complex sentences with short ones." Who knew I had this style? Interestingly, the only comment I made on the other excerpt we critiqued was to combine two awkward phrases and then let one short one stand on its own. I gave myself away. One more thing about the writing and then I'll move on. Jen hadn't read my memoir and I handed it to her during class. She then asked me if she could read it. Wanna know what she said? Ok (by the way, she got an A on her assignment): Your word choice is very powerful. I know I said it before, but specific sentences are so effective, I get a chill over me. Such strong opening and ending lines. I like your choppy play on sentence structure, specifically the short phrases are very tightly constrcited. I can really picture your childhood, the wanting to find a father on TV, wanting to identify with who raised you. This should be published. I honestly think it's that powerful and can help others seeking themselves. Thanks, Jen. I'll take it. This day has really given me a renewed sense of myself as a "writer." I'm not sure when I'll feel comfortable enough to remove the quotes around that word. I just got off the phone with Erin and we were talking about what's going on with us in school -- her obviously acting and my writing. And I told her that I feel a different kind of pressure now than I did last fall. A year ago, it was about my being able to read Kant, Hegel, Marx, Rousseau, etc., and then being able to come up with something to say about their texts. It's no longer about other people, other (dead) writers. It's about what I came here for. It's about relating my larger project to an audience through writing. I can use the theorists to support my arguments, but it's generally all going to be coming from the mass in my skull. It's both scary and invigorating. I'm extremely nervous about the prospect of having to write this thesis of mine. But it's time to start. I decided yesterday to devote one to two hours a day on formalizing my topic and moving forward with my goal. I'm excited and flattered at Snitow's willingness to help me. Go ahead, Google her (her first name is Ann). She's everywhere. To end this really significant day, I joined Helen, Evan, Julie, Amy, Renata, Marcela, and Lorena to celebrate Helen's birthday. The laughter was great. Lorena and I walked to the F in the rain and that was that. I'm going to go to bed now and hope that this trip I'm on continues for a little while longer. I have therapy tomorrow. I didn't see Elizabeth last week, so it's been two weeks now. I hope I can remember everything.