~sigh~

I should probably comment on readings. Like a lot of them. But I am not focused enough to do that without context so you'll just have to read

There was a short period during my trip to Spain this summer during which my host sister and I didn't talk much. It wasn't that we actually disliked each other, but when you spend too much time in close quarters with someone, there's an inevitable period of needing to breathe, and because I was ten thousand miles from home and on the 8th floor of a locked apartment building, I sat on the balcony and looked out on the Mediterranean sea and journaled all day. This is good- everyone needs time to be alone and to journal, and I think a lot of us get so caught up in doing things for others or working on things we think necessary like summer classes or sports or lo que sea that we don't leave time for ourselves. In any case, I'd finished Joy Luck Club and decided to read it again in a different order (those who have read it may understand why I did this- it's in vignettes about 4 different mother-daughter pairs and the first time I read it straight through, the second was pair by pair) and this time, I took notes. This is fortunate, as I have now returned the book to Julia but my journal has quotes that I like. One of the quotes I put in my journal refers to an unsatisfactory piano recital I believe, but it may refer to a chess match or a divorce. I forget.

The quote is "to each person I told a different story. Yet each version was true... at least at the moment I told it" (210). I had a race yesterday and it went about as well as most of my races have been going this year, which is to say I was over two minutes slower than most of my meets last year. Only Alex and Derek will understand the significance of that and both of them are busy enough that they better not be sitting around reading other people's blogs, but suffice it to say that nobody likes spending 14 hours a week on something and getting progressively worse at it. So the Joy Luck Club quote applied yesterday because I found that each time I talked to someone new, I came to a different conclusion about my race. To Cory I said I started too fast, to Grace I said I should have trained in the summer, to Derek and Alex I said I train better than I race. I think I do that a lot- any time I feel like I need to make excuses for myself.

It's odd how much the way you say something affects its meaning. I had a conversation with a host mom in Spain during which she told me I ought to be more outgoing, that people who don't stick up for themselves have a hard time getting around in the world and that it's important to be an extrovert and put yourself out there. I'm sure she meant no harm in what she was saying- the woman is a radio announcer who lives in a city of about 10,000 people and she literally knew more than half of the people in the town. Not just knew them- we'd walk down the beach or to the carnería or an ice cream shop and she'd stop and have a good conversation with every other person, waving to the rest of them as they passed by and called "¿Qué tal, Carmeli? ¡Buenos días, Carmeli!" On the one hand, it was nice to be in such a friendly environment. On the other hand, I don't think I could stand to be that extroverted. Sin embargo, when I got back to the US I found myself describing the conversation as her scolding me for being an introvert, or telling me I would not be successful if I did not change to become outgoing. That's not what she meant, and I'm sure if I'd described it in a different way in English that people would have taken it differently. We are very quick to judge, all of us.

NYAH. About the readings. I am silly- I generally don't like stories if they don't end happily or don't teach a deep and cliche message of perseverence and appreciation. In other words, I oughn't to have liked a single story we've read this year. I do like musicals, though, and quite a bit. And I do not like hearing about relationships that don't work out, so A Temporary Matter depressed me a bit. There were two particular quotes in it that struck me as wow-I-hope-this-is-never-me; "looking, at thirty-three, like the type of woman she'd once claimed she would never resemble" (321), and "the cosmetics that had seemed superfluous were necessary now" (329). I was slightly impressed at the writer for saying things like that because they give the reader a pretty good image of what has become of both the relationship itself and the people in it, but mostly it depressed me. I don't like reading things that depress me. Half Skinned Steer was something of the opposite- I didn't enjoy A Temporary Matter because if that ever became of my life I would... I don't know what I'd do. It would not be a good day. But I did understand the story and it used explanations that are easy to relate to even if we'd rather not have them come true. I had a much harder time understanding Half Skinned Steer and it's not something I can imagine relating to. The narrator's voice comes out a lot in that one, which is cool, but none of the characters were very likeable. I guess that's not really a bad thing- a story with one likeable character who comes into conflict with only characters who deserve to be beaten up is neither realistic nor interesting, but the characters seemed so far distanced from people I would ever encounter that the story just seemed random to me. And I didn't like the idea of the actual half skinned steer. How terribly creepy and grotesque. I read We Didn't as well because I forgot which one we were supposed to read, and I was quite impressed by the descriptions; "in the backseat of my father's rusted Rambler, which smelled of the smoked chubs and kielbasa he delivered on weekends from my uncle Vincent's meat market" (181). That story was also interesting in just how much it's set in the past (or, really, imperfect) tense; not just the events are in the past, but the narrator and the girl to whom the story is directed seem to have changed from the time the story is supposed to have taken place, and the narrator describes both of their personalities as how they were rather than how they are. Girl was interesting to me, and like a lot of these stories it definitely broadened my idea of what a story can be. For as much as it seems to lack in plot, it gives a pretty clear idea of both the girl and her mother and the relationship between them. I don't think I would have been able to do half as good of a job if given a page and a half to explain two people in so much detail. But I do like both Girl and We Didn't. How to Become a Writer was not what I'd expected and was also a little depressing, especially since we're about to enter college and I don't know that any of us are very secure in what we want to do with our lives. I'm still not sure what to think of You're Ugly, Too but that I'm glad I spend so much time around people who are outrageously blunt and all too honest. I don't like superficiality. Ever. Sigh.

~This post wasn't actually about writing that much... Sorry about thattt~