Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Forgiveness.
Twice this week I've had conversations with my writing friends regarding forgiveness and the importance of forgiving. So I thought the subject would make a good blog.
This happens more in category than in other genres, but it does happen.
The thing is, in a book I tend to immerse myself in the character's problems, and too often I find that at the end, the character almost betrays my support by turning around and forgiving the very person I've been trained/encouraged/expected to loathe.
Parents that cannot be pleased and left the character with life long inadequacies.
A father denying his daughter a place in his business because he only sees her as a decoration.
A self absorbed mother, threatened that her daughter may eclipse her. Or worse, unforgivable things.
Lies that break up a marriage.
Lies regarding a pregnancy, or parentage.
Lies about an affair.
So these acts are performed against our characters. The results ruined their lives and usually are a great part of what holds them back from finding their happiness in the present situation. Sometimes the character is aware of the treachery or problem from page one, other times we learn of it right along with him/her, yet almost always, by the resolution, the character has confronted the wrong doer and if not forgiven them, let go of the pain. And frankly, I don't get it. I don't get the psychology (if that is even the right term), of a few words erasing years of pain and making everyone better. I don't get the whole trend that forgiveness is part of the growth of the character (like a 12 step program), a tying up of the loose ends of the story. That somehow the character isn't complete unless understanding or forgiveness takes place during the confrontation. Or, if they don't, there's an implication they aren't a good person.
Maybe, it's that it isn't done well enough to ring true. Almost like a, gosh we're near the end and she hasn't resolved her issues with daddy yet--must resolve those... and my burning question is why? Or why is forgiveness practically always the only acceptable option to make him/her a decent human being? Rarely is the solution to accept that your parents suck, to say, guess what, I'm going to have a good life regardless. No, by the end we have to have happy families, or the seeds planted that the relationship will be saved in the future.
So again I ask why? Why do our characters need to forgive?
Any and all answers will be greatly appreciated.
X
This happens more in category than in other genres, but it does happen.
The thing is, in a book I tend to immerse myself in the character's problems, and too often I find that at the end, the character almost betrays my support by turning around and forgiving the very person I've been trained/encouraged/expected to loathe.
Parents that cannot be pleased and left the character with life long inadequacies.
A father denying his daughter a place in his business because he only sees her as a decoration.
A self absorbed mother, threatened that her daughter may eclipse her. Or worse, unforgivable things.
Lies that break up a marriage.
Lies regarding a pregnancy, or parentage.
Lies about an affair.
So these acts are performed against our characters. The results ruined their lives and usually are a great part of what holds them back from finding their happiness in the present situation. Sometimes the character is aware of the treachery or problem from page one, other times we learn of it right along with him/her, yet almost always, by the resolution, the character has confronted the wrong doer and if not forgiven them, let go of the pain. And frankly, I don't get it. I don't get the psychology (if that is even the right term), of a few words erasing years of pain and making everyone better. I don't get the whole trend that forgiveness is part of the growth of the character (like a 12 step program), a tying up of the loose ends of the story. That somehow the character isn't complete unless understanding or forgiveness takes place during the confrontation. Or, if they don't, there's an implication they aren't a good person.
Maybe, it's that it isn't done well enough to ring true. Almost like a, gosh we're near the end and she hasn't resolved her issues with daddy yet--must resolve those... and my burning question is why? Or why is forgiveness practically always the only acceptable option to make him/her a decent human being? Rarely is the solution to accept that your parents suck, to say, guess what, I'm going to have a good life regardless. No, by the end we have to have happy families, or the seeds planted that the relationship will be saved in the future.
So again I ask why? Why do our characters need to forgive?
Any and all answers will be greatly appreciated.
X
Sunday, March 26, 2006
The Ugly American
Don't be afraid, it ends well.
Before 9/11, before the war in Iraq, Americans had a pretty bad rep overseas. I'd witnessed it, been appaled* by it and yet I could never quite reconcile what I personally knew of Americans with this other ugly image.
I've been to the States many times, on vacation, for business. I have so many wonderful American friends whom I treasure, and, friend or stranger I've never been treated less than graciously in the US, so it's easy for me to see how many of my US friends are puzzled by their bad reputation. It wasn't until recently I thought I may have stumbled upon part of the answer. A theory anyway.
It happened one night when a friend was complaining about poor service he'd received at a check-in counter at an airport. The conversation went to service in general and examples of good and bad service we'd received at different times in our lives. Without exception our collective experience of great service occured whilst in the States, and we admired how spoilt and catered to we felt when in the States.
You live in a commerce driven society. The customer is always right, and keeping the customer happy generates repeat business. (I'm going to amend here with an 'in general' because, of course, we've all had bad experiences. but in general, the service in the States is excellent). This level of service is a treat for the rest of us, you guys (Americans) live with it everyday. You probably don't even realise how unique it is. Now let's transplant an average Joe American with that expectation of service into a society where commerce is not the driving factor, where the customer doesn't reign supreme, and you can see where I'm going with this.
There's affront that servers aren't going the extra distance to meet your needs (whatever those may be). Frustration, and a little bewilderment that they (the servers) don't seem to care one way or another if you spend your money in their place of business. Is it any wonder then, that these frustrations boil over? From your view, these people are rude, lazy and incompetent. But. From their view, you are rude, arrogant and demanding for expecting to be treated 'special' because you're waving money around. After all, none of their other customers are acting this way, and they have money to spend too. Of course Americans don't expect to be treated specially from everyone else, they simply expect the same level of service they'd get back home, and therein lies the problem.
There is a difference in how other societies expect to interact with each other within that society. Neither view is right or wrong, it is just different. Anyway, that's my theory to partly explain the ugly American moniker. For my part, I love going to the states and being treated like a pampered princess, it's nothing less than my due afterall.
X
*apalled? meh I can't figure out the spell checker, and i just don't care enough to look it up in my dictionary...so shoot me.
P.S. I may have figured out my blogger probs. Apparently I've been using the wrong browser, and a lot of functions don't work with Safari... switching to Firefox.
Before 9/11, before the war in Iraq, Americans had a pretty bad rep overseas. I'd witnessed it, been appaled* by it and yet I could never quite reconcile what I personally knew of Americans with this other ugly image.
I've been to the States many times, on vacation, for business. I have so many wonderful American friends whom I treasure, and, friend or stranger I've never been treated less than graciously in the US, so it's easy for me to see how many of my US friends are puzzled by their bad reputation. It wasn't until recently I thought I may have stumbled upon part of the answer. A theory anyway.
It happened one night when a friend was complaining about poor service he'd received at a check-in counter at an airport. The conversation went to service in general and examples of good and bad service we'd received at different times in our lives. Without exception our collective experience of great service occured whilst in the States, and we admired how spoilt and catered to we felt when in the States.
You live in a commerce driven society. The customer is always right, and keeping the customer happy generates repeat business. (I'm going to amend here with an 'in general' because, of course, we've all had bad experiences. but in general, the service in the States is excellent). This level of service is a treat for the rest of us, you guys (Americans) live with it everyday. You probably don't even realise how unique it is. Now let's transplant an average Joe American with that expectation of service into a society where commerce is not the driving factor, where the customer doesn't reign supreme, and you can see where I'm going with this.
There's affront that servers aren't going the extra distance to meet your needs (whatever those may be). Frustration, and a little bewilderment that they (the servers) don't seem to care one way or another if you spend your money in their place of business. Is it any wonder then, that these frustrations boil over? From your view, these people are rude, lazy and incompetent. But. From their view, you are rude, arrogant and demanding for expecting to be treated 'special' because you're waving money around. After all, none of their other customers are acting this way, and they have money to spend too. Of course Americans don't expect to be treated specially from everyone else, they simply expect the same level of service they'd get back home, and therein lies the problem.
There is a difference in how other societies expect to interact with each other within that society. Neither view is right or wrong, it is just different. Anyway, that's my theory to partly explain the ugly American moniker. For my part, I love going to the states and being treated like a pampered princess, it's nothing less than my due afterall.
X
*apalled? meh I can't figure out the spell checker, and i just don't care enough to look it up in my dictionary...so shoot me.
P.S. I may have figured out my blogger probs. Apparently I've been using the wrong browser, and a lot of functions don't work with Safari... switching to Firefox.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
It's in His Kiss
Courtesy of Ann, a blog thing.
Who knew I'd go for sweetly devoted?
X
| Your Famous Movie Kiss is from Spiderman |
 "I have always been standing in your doorway. Isn't it about time somebody saved your life?" |
Who knew I'd go for sweetly devoted?
X
Blogger Alert
Heads up.
You might want to check out your letter verification aspect in comments.
A friend tried to post to my blog last night and couldn't because the letter verification kept failing, oddly enough this happened at the same time I was trying to comment on someone elses (Kris', darned smetina)blog without luck. Anyway I turned of that function on my blog and everything was fine.
X
You might want to check out your letter verification aspect in comments.
A friend tried to post to my blog last night and couldn't because the letter verification kept failing, oddly enough this happened at the same time I was trying to comment on someone elses (Kris', darned smetina)blog without luck. Anyway I turned of that function on my blog and everything was fine.
X
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
The Secret Life of X
I've travelled quite a bit. I'm not a stranger to the routines of hotels, planes, and airports. What I'm about to tell you I've never told another living soul, but my secret life revolves around the cab ride to or from the airport.
For the most part I'm an honest person--For the most part.
But something happens to me when I get inside a cab and a whole other world opens up to me.
"So where have you been?" The cabbie might ask, or, "So, what do you do for a living?"
Those two little questions release an habitual liar inside an otherwise straight shooter. Either of those questions and away I go, into a fantastical morass of lies about a make believe life, that I'm sure is a product of constantly creating characters in my head... in the cab, suddenly, I can become any fictional character I want.
For a fairly private person, having the unbridled freedom to simply make shit up to a captive audience is.... It is nothing less than exhilirating.
In these magical taxi rides I've been a human resources manager for an oil company, coming back from a training seminar. I've returned from Bahrain where my husband is stationed, (he's an engineer helping with the latest water capture and storage systems), I've worked for the forestry industry, been a buyer for a designer (specialising in leather) the lies are never ending. And so much damn fun.
There's also the terror of discovery. Can I pull it off this time? Will this be the ride where the person I'm talking to actually knows something about the bullshit I'm shovelling? What will I do if I'm called on it, confess all? Brazen it out?
So, wanna come on a cab ride with me and be anyone you want? I'll back you up, promise.
X
For the most part I'm an honest person--For the most part.
But something happens to me when I get inside a cab and a whole other world opens up to me.
"So where have you been?" The cabbie might ask, or, "So, what do you do for a living?"
Those two little questions release an habitual liar inside an otherwise straight shooter. Either of those questions and away I go, into a fantastical morass of lies about a make believe life, that I'm sure is a product of constantly creating characters in my head... in the cab, suddenly, I can become any fictional character I want.
For a fairly private person, having the unbridled freedom to simply make shit up to a captive audience is.... It is nothing less than exhilirating.
In these magical taxi rides I've been a human resources manager for an oil company, coming back from a training seminar. I've returned from Bahrain where my husband is stationed, (he's an engineer helping with the latest water capture and storage systems), I've worked for the forestry industry, been a buyer for a designer (specialising in leather) the lies are never ending. And so much damn fun.
There's also the terror of discovery. Can I pull it off this time? Will this be the ride where the person I'm talking to actually knows something about the bullshit I'm shovelling? What will I do if I'm called on it, confess all? Brazen it out?
So, wanna come on a cab ride with me and be anyone you want? I'll back you up, promise.
X
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Blogging,
seems to be the hardest word.
or, a funny thing happened to me on the way to my blog.
Both these are appropriate. I've visited my dashboard about 4 times in an attempt to post something to my blog this week and every time I was distracted by the lure of procrastination... 'ooh look, Doug has a new post--with links', that'll kill an hour. "Katie-poo, is on a tear again, and look. More links.' One night I actually had a solid idea for a blog, post about my transcendent experiences in Office Supply stores, except just thinking about it sent me off in a trance as I imagined the pen aisle, all the neat post it crap in a crayon box of colours, but the kicker was the virtual smell of the Sharpies... mmm Sharpies.
oops sorry, nearly lost me again.
So here I am blogging about my inability to blog and the question is, why? Why am I finding it so difficult? I mean, good grief, it's not like I don't enjoy talking about myself. It's my favourite freakin subject, and yet I come here and I feel restrained somehow. I realise this is all in my mind and yet, my early experiences with message boards have sort of indoctrinated me with a generic posting personality... Yeah, there's the odd fuck you (woo hoo, I'm a rebel), but nothing too controversial. Nothing confrontational, and heaven forfend I should actually take a stand and really voice my opinion.. (cause I have one or two you know, very strong ones LOL).
Then there's the whole, writer website = potential sale. I mean the reason I began blogging in the first place was to have a presence on the web, (cause, I was gonna sell any day now, you know), and so I had to be neat as a new pin. Likeable, interesting, but not offensive or controversial... and this is the restraint I feel. Could also be why I've lost a lot of interest in getting published. Cause I don't want to be a writer if I have to be this plastic person (ie, not be/act myself). But that's a wee bit off track and obviously there's much room for many more blogs on THIS subject...
But back to interesting posts and my fear of them. Sure I'll agree, or add a different perspective to a subject on somebody elses blog, but hey, they're the ones getting the hate mail if they piss someone off, not me. they're the ones that went out on the limb to discuss 'that' subject, not me.
And dammit, it should be about ME. Me me me me!
So we'll see if I can come out of my shell. Leave the tea party mentality behind and invite you all over for a cosy chat which includes wine, swearing, hard liquor, and the occassional 'my tits are bigger than yours' game.
X
After Posted: Why, why, WHY! do I always spell this with two s? occassional???
or, a funny thing happened to me on the way to my blog.
Both these are appropriate. I've visited my dashboard about 4 times in an attempt to post something to my blog this week and every time I was distracted by the lure of procrastination... 'ooh look, Doug has a new post--with links', that'll kill an hour. "Katie-poo, is on a tear again, and look. More links.' One night I actually had a solid idea for a blog, post about my transcendent experiences in Office Supply stores, except just thinking about it sent me off in a trance as I imagined the pen aisle, all the neat post it crap in a crayon box of colours, but the kicker was the virtual smell of the Sharpies... mmm Sharpies.
oops sorry, nearly lost me again.
So here I am blogging about my inability to blog and the question is, why? Why am I finding it so difficult? I mean, good grief, it's not like I don't enjoy talking about myself. It's my favourite freakin subject, and yet I come here and I feel restrained somehow. I realise this is all in my mind and yet, my early experiences with message boards have sort of indoctrinated me with a generic posting personality... Yeah, there's the odd fuck you (woo hoo, I'm a rebel), but nothing too controversial. Nothing confrontational, and heaven forfend I should actually take a stand and really voice my opinion.. (cause I have one or two you know, very strong ones LOL).
Then there's the whole, writer website = potential sale. I mean the reason I began blogging in the first place was to have a presence on the web, (cause, I was gonna sell any day now, you know), and so I had to be neat as a new pin. Likeable, interesting, but not offensive or controversial... and this is the restraint I feel. Could also be why I've lost a lot of interest in getting published. Cause I don't want to be a writer if I have to be this plastic person (ie, not be/act myself). But that's a wee bit off track and obviously there's much room for many more blogs on THIS subject...
But back to interesting posts and my fear of them. Sure I'll agree, or add a different perspective to a subject on somebody elses blog, but hey, they're the ones getting the hate mail if they piss someone off, not me. they're the ones that went out on the limb to discuss 'that' subject, not me.
And dammit, it should be about ME. Me me me me!
So we'll see if I can come out of my shell. Leave the tea party mentality behind and invite you all over for a cosy chat which includes wine, swearing, hard liquor, and the occassional 'my tits are bigger than yours' game.
X
After Posted: Why, why, WHY! do I always spell this with two s? occassional???
