Extra Credit - Mathias Svalina

“I am writing you a letter in the weather reports and my every prediction is wrong.” This excerpt from the writing of Mathias Svalina is, in my opinion, heartbreakingly sad. And, coincidentally, rather apropos to Nebraska weather. There is such a sense of ongoing defeat in this sentence that it’s hard to read without becoming a little sad yourself. The persona is separated from the “you” of the letter and making an effort to connect, but just can’t seem to get it right. Despite this, the persona keeps trying. To me, there seems to be an admission of eventual capitulation to the circumstances. If you read this as the description of a long distance relationship, you have to wonder just how long this relationship is going to last. One thing that I love and loathe (but mostly love) about literature is that the construction of characters invariably leaves something to the imagination. Whether that be the continuation of the story or the beginning of events, the reader is left to fill in the information. I think this is wonderful because it gives the reader some sense of control and the ability to change the events at will. Even if it’s a familiar piece, the reader can always come back and find something new not only in the text, but also the information that’s not provided. Ultimately, it all comes back to the text, but it’s an interesting exercise to suppose about the characters based on the information you actually have. Take Steinbeck’s “The Chrysanthemums” for example. What happens when Elisa and Henry make it to town? She’s devastated by the treachery of the salesman, but perhaps she’s strong enough to not let that bother her for long. Maybe she comes home and rips up all the chrysanthemums that gave her so much pleasure. There are endless possibilities.

I Just Can't Stand It

Because I cannot stand this video, I’m going to talk instead about the time surrounding the first time I was made to watch it. I moved to Orlando on January 17th, 2007. I was going to Florida to take a job I was unfamiliar with, live with people I’d never met and try to survive in a climate approximately 800% more humid than I’d ever experienced for an extended period of time. I was excited and nervous, especially about these girls with whom I was going to be rooming. I’d never lived with five other people before, not to mention five girls. We had an interesting spectrum of girls going on in that apartment; there was the dumb one, the sorority girl, the badass, the one who thought she was black, the weird one and me. We got moved in and had a couple days of general training before we had time to share stupid YouTube videos with each other. The very first one just had to be the “Shoes” video. I remember leaning over Mallory’s shoulder as we watched the monitor of her laptop. I honestly have no memory of the “plot” of the video or anything that goes on in it. I do remember the scratchy pea green carpeting that covered the entire apartment and the lumpy paint job covering past tenants’’ nail holes. The weather was startlingly warm, especially coming from the subarctic winter of Nebraska. We’d been vehemently warned to keep windows shut and take out the trash every day because of the pervasiveness of bugs. Inside the apartment though, for the next eight months, the most used words were “betch” and “shoes”. I love those girls, but dear God, I hate this video.

Repeat One Ad Infinitum

“I can’t get to sleep, I think about the implications of diving in too deep and possibly the complications. Especially at night I worry over situations I know will be alright, perhaps it’s just imagination.” Through my childhood, there was one thing for which I was highly praised: my imagination. My parents were pleased because it meant that I, as an only child, could entertain myself. But my imagination got me in trouble some times. Granted, it was never real trouble and I think it helped me, ultimately, to mature. Just as JD is haunted by Colin Hay in this (fairly genius) opening from Scrubs, there were things that haunted me. For me, they were ghosts of things to come that plagued the time when I ought to have been sleeping. I’d lay awake in my bed, covered by the quilt my mother made from pieces of lamb-patterned fabric she’d collected, staring across the room to the hanging lamps that looked just like pineapples. I loved those lamps during the day, but at night they cast odd shadows. The neighbors’ native grasses they’d planted swished eerily. But the most terrifying thing was thinking about my parents. I knew they didn’t love each other and didn’t get along and I tried for years to be OK with the idea that they were going to get divorced. I’d tell myself that it was going to be fine; I had friends with divorced parents and they got along well enough. More than fearing my parents were going to separate, the knowledge of how unwell my dad was horrified me. Just the thought of him dying made me cry. It’s these sort of things I remember when I hear this song, but there’s something in it that’s soothing and reassuring.

(Also, Lazlo Bane does a pretty decent cover featuring Colin Hay)

Selah Saterstrom reading

Thursday’s reading by Selah Saterstrom was definitely interesting. In comparison to the other two authors, she seemed a little bit less dynamic. That being said, her writing is definitely pretty solid. She had a few lines, though, that left me puzzled. “Boredom, when identified, leads to new opportunities” is one such line. It sounds good and profound, but what does it mean? Under what circumstances does identified boredom lead to opportunity. I often sit around bored, really just looking for opportunities and finding none. Perhaps I’m not looking hard enough. Or perhaps I’m looking too hard. Maybe the real trick with opportunity is not to track it down, but to recognize it when it comes to you. Admittedly, I’m spectacularly lacking in life experience, so I guess I’ll just have to see if opportunistic boredom is something that comes with age. Is it the quiet desperation that Thoreau talked about that leads to being able to shape boredom into something life changing. But what if one doesn’t want their life changed? What if they just want a little excitement, a little difference. I think that’s why women shop so much. God knows that when I feel down, there’s nothing that picks me up like a high-waisted pencil skirt and a new pair of killer stilettos. Take yesterday, for example. That self-same pencil skirt is looking super hot hanging in my closet right now, but that euphoria of possibility has, sadly, already worn off. So I’m back to boredom and out a good chunk of money. And completely lacking in motivation just like always, but after writing this I’m depressed about it as well. Where comes the point when boredom relents to something better? Wouldn’t it be lovely to find something in your life that would be truly satisfying? Jesus, talk about your aimless stream of consciousness posts.