The Philosophy of Fruit

A short time ago through Twitter I found a blog called What Shall I Draw? It's pretty self explanatory: you send the author a message or a comment and ask her to draw something for you. Then she draws it!

I wanted her to draw something for me, well, my main reason for asking her to draw was to see if she would actually do it. I also loved the idea of someone drawing something for me and also I loved the thought of someone doing it publicly. I could have asked her to draw a picture of me (from my blog, or something I could send her), a flower or something abstract. I wanted something unique. Something that maybe no one else had ever drawn before, something to which she had little to no reference except he imagination. An idea popped up right away, an event, but I imagined the real thing happening, not an artist's rendering of it.

I asked her to draw me a picture of an orange trying to peel itself. I don't know where that idea came from, though I was in the kitchen so maybe I had spotted the bowl of clementines or had eaten one earlier. I can't remember. It doesn't really matter; I'm just glad I thought of it. I thought about what an orange would look like, trying to peel itself. I didn't imagine a face. I didn't imagine there would be evidence of strain or apprehension because of the profound task at hand. I didn't even consider why an orange would want to peel itself, a concept particularly important when you consider that we peel oranges to eat them. If I had thought of that, I probably would have wondered why an orange would want to self-destruct. I would want to know if the orange was a sadist or a nihilist: maybe the orange felt its life was pointless without a purpose because its purpose means its demise, or that it had no purpose because its purpose was to be destroyed. Maybe the orange realized its desires were meaningless anyway because it could not enjoy the fulfillment of its purpose because it would be dead, assuming the orange wouldn't expect life on the other side. An atheist orange.

Maybe the orange felt it would have some sort of rebirth as stomach acid or human waste or if the orange knew about toilets and sewers, it imagined them as heaven. Maybe, since our bowels and sewers are the lowest parts of each system, the orange anticipated a kind of hell. Maybe the orange hoped that by peeling itself it would tantalize a human's appetite or pity at the reality of it soon spoiling, ensuring its consumption and the fulfillment of its purpose. The orange accomplished its purpose. This is important if the orange felt it would not find the other side (heaven or reincarnation) if it rotted instead of being consumed. Peeling itself was a quest for an eternal survival. Or maybe the orange peeled itself to hasten its demise, depending on what you believe the orange wanted. This is all assuming that the orange successfully peeled itself and was eaten instead of rotted and/or thrown away."Felt," "imagined," "anticipated," "successfully" -- I'm imagining this stuff actually happened! Poor orange. Such a complicated life. Wait, no. Poor me!

The prospect of an orange trying to peel itself is absurd in that it can't happen and won't happen because an orange doesn't have a brain, claws. What it does have, though, is ways of protecting itself. Notice that if you peel an orange and leave it out for a while, the outside of it will harden, creating a kind of protective shell. An orange doesn't have hopes, dreams or will, does it? In a way, the orange wants to live, so I guess I have my answer about whether an orange would try to kill itself. Well, maybe some oranges would. But this protective shell isn't really a desire to live, anyway, but actually an evolutionary advantage. Unless you're in the creationist camp and you think God has enabled oranges to protect themselves because he wants our sustenance to be protected. Ah, Ashley stop!

I promise you I don't get so philosophical, logical (if you can think logically about an orange trying to peel itself) and analytical about silly ideas as I think them or watch them, partly because I'm naturally a silly person and I have few inhibitions. That's why I think silly thoughts and say silly things. It's why I can watch Spongebob Squarepants and laugh without questioning how Spongebob and the other characters can walk fine without floating or waving, how the characters can pour themselves drinks or, perhaps most important of all, why a sponge has legs and a face, wears pants, lives in the sea, is friends with a crab and a squirrel and a starfish. But as you can see, I am fully aware of the absurdity of the show. Still, I can enjoy it, probably because when I experience art, I am able and willing to suspend my disbelief.

I was delighted when the girl at What Shall I Draw wrote a response comment, saying she liked my request and would draw it on the weekend. Then she did today! She also linked to my blog. There is so much goodness in this: she took the time to respond to me publicly and privately; she liked my request; I challenged her creativity and she spent time doing something, not necessarily for me, but because she wanted to; she spent time with my idea. It brightened my second consecutive emotionally difficult day. I love how art and interactions with great people do that.

Well, I've kept you in suspense long enough. See it for yourself! Maybe you should ask her to draw something for you. I'm sure she's game for anything. I'm sorry if I ruined Spongebob or oranges for you....

Thoughts on Television

Trebek acts like he doesn't need his cue cards.

Terrible dancer Bristol Palin was not booted off Dancing the stars; Brandy, a good dancer, was. Bristol also made it to the finals on Dancing with the Stars for some reason.

William and Kate's engagement seems to be one of few things happening in the world at this moment.

Family Guy made jokes about suicide and drunk driving in a single episode. I also recall an episode that featured a musical number called "Down Syndrome Girl."

Two and a Half men "humour" always seems to involve bodily functions and the objectification of women.

Oprah's "Favourite Things" Christmas show is evidence that her audience needs to calm down.

I don't find How I Met Your Mother funny at all.

The Duggars on 19 Kids and Counting have way too many kids. I know I am supposed to marvel at the dozens of bottles of pickles they have to pack for a road trip, but instead I just wonder if Mrs. Duggar blushes when she bites into the pickles.

Horatio on CSI: Miami needs to cut his incessantly sardonic inflection and decide whether to keep his shades on or off.

Victor Newman on the Young and the Restless needs to speak up because I have no idea what the hell he is saying.


Tweet

Failed Efforts at Professionalism

Please note that that I have changed my email address to aj.ashbee@gmail.com. I decided that simpfan2001ca@yahoo.ca is not exactly professional. Also, the year is not 2001 and I haven't been a dedicated fan of The Simpsons in years. Mind you, I did just watch part of the "Mr. Plow" episode. Classic!

I will keep the simpfan address for friends and anyone I may have forgotten still has this address. What a pain it would be to change my address on various email subscriptions I have to stores, organizations, etc. BUT I will not put simpfan2001ca@Yahoo.ca on my resume again. It never did feel or look right. I can't imagine how ghastly it would look on a business card. It's time to grow up and move on! Gmail seems like a good move. It hasn't gotten any spam!

I think I just keep things out of habit. Lots of things, especially clothes and shoes. I don't grow out of liking really anything, plus I'm so petite that shopping can be a real pain. At the shoe store yesterday, a size 6 (Canadian/American) dress shoe was too big for me. The clerk said that was the smallest size they have. People generally have larger running shoe sizes because of the cushioning inside. My New Balance shoes are 6 and a half. Yay me.

I just typed out a request for your shoe size (Yes, I'm that starved for conversation starters in here), but deleted it because that would be too confusing with shoe sizes varying internationally. Do bra sizes vary too? My readership, the number of comments and the depth of comments have progressively waned since I tried to change, but lost the direction of my blog and stopped posting often. I know that a bra conversation will bring me a large readership, but it's in poor taste and will not allow my male readers to participate -- well, not in ways I approve of anyway. Plus, I'm not willing to share that kind of information, so how can I expect others to? Remember why I got 21, 000 members in a Facebook group I created? I don't even want to know about others' bra sizes anyway, at all. I'm just joking/hoping the word "bra" will bring traffic to my blog. If you leave a comment about boobs or bras, I will not post it. Don't send me any pictures either.

Only I can start a post about professional email and end it with a blabber about bras. It was a pretty smooth transition between topics, though eh?

Seriously, though, I miss knowing what to write in here and having so many in-depth comments. I hope you keep reading and bear with me while I try to figure something out. It will get better in January when my life and career start again. If there's something you want to discuss or if you would like my opinion something, please share!

OH how could I forget. Saturday morning I was waiting for my allergy shot in my doctor's waiting room when two men started arguing because one guy objected to the others' loud cell phone usage. First, he stared at his phone as it rang. Loudly. Then he started talking on it. Loudly. I HATE THAT! But anti-phone guy's tactics for trying to get him off the phone didn't really work.

He said that talking on the phone in a medical clinic was illegal. Really? He also pointed to me and the other patients, saying that we are sick and want to listen to magazines in peace. REALLY? Phone guy didn't handle it well either. He told anti-phone guy to "mind his own business" and go outside if he didn't like it. No, that's not selfish or illogical at all... Since its phone guy's business alone, he had every right to speak loudly enough that everyone could hear. After all, we weren't shackled to our chairs. We could have left if we didn't like it!

Then anti-phone guy stood up, walked over to phone guy and got all up in his face after after phone guy said something about supposedly Chinese anti-phone guy not being in China. You know, because here in Canada we all love to hear others' loud cell phone conversations in a medical clinic. Why do so many people bring race into everything?

I was grateful when the receptionist politely averted the crisis by saying disruption wasn't cool and whisking phone guy to his appointment. If I hadn't been so irritated about having to be at the doctor for a needle on a Saturday morning, knowing I had to bear a shopping excursion for a winter coat afterward, I would have asked anti-phone guy if he was aware of the irony of trying to reduce a disruption by raising his voice and antagonizing. Phone guy was being a jerk, but anti-phone guy just made it more uncomfortable and disruptive. Mind you, I'm glad anti-phone guy stuck up for us "sick" patients and for himself against that ignorant prick. That takes serious guts. Guts I sort of had, but didn't feel like using.

Actually when the drama began, I tried to avert my eyes by reading the children's magazine beside me... Would you really want to upset a sick child sitting alone in a dirty, worn coat?

Note: I didn't actually find a coat I liked that fit me...

Tweet

Late Fall Greeting

I am so in love with much of the weather we've been having in Toronto for about a week. I took Pounce for walk at 8 am today. The air is so crisp and refreshing. I love how it clears my nose and forces my eyes to open more. I am not a morning person.

I also love wearing good coats, hats and sweaters. I love how my silk, ornate, purple pashmina rubs against my neck and chest. My only complaint was that my skin itched and stung from the cold under my red penguin pajama pants. Obviously, I'm not yet a slave to winter fashion. I don't care that people that people see them anyway. I wonder if people thinking I'm going to work or school afterward. Well, probably school because of my youthful appearance.

Oh, and let's not forget the sights. The branches of most trees, and there are a lot of trees in my neighborhood, are bare now. Delicate veins pierce the sky. Many orange, red, yellow and brown leaves have blanketed the ground. Now dry, they crunch and swish as I walk through them on the street and take detours to kick and stomp on small piles (not piles on people's lawns though!).

I've been pretty bored lately. I never did get back to NaNoWriMo because I just don't want to handwrite it. My computer is still on the fritz. It's okay. I have other computers in my house to satisfy my social networking needs. I've also become a big fan of Sudoku, which I play on my Nintendo DS at night before I go to sleep. I also play Five Card Draw and Blackjack, which I also learned to play on my DS. I wince when I lose money, like it is real, especially when I get into debt and I mock the electronic players ("Ha ha! SUCKA!" "Take THAT!") when I win games and get more money, feeling like I've won because I'm smart and they've done something wrong to get poorer hands of cards.

I think I will start volunteering again until I start school in January. I'm officially registered in the second semester of my public relations program! Just two more months... I've been feeling pretty good. Little pain and fatigue. Balance good. My heart is still frequently racing, though, and it makes me pretty tired. Despite this flare up, after rest I'm strong and energetic. Pounce and I ran here and there during our walk! We only slowed because he likes to dawdle to sniff and pee. I tug on his leash and scold him which usually works....

I'm starting to get really annoyed that I don't have any income anymore. Animal sitting season seems to have long ended. I guess the intense summer heat had people visiting cottages often... BUT it's not a massive deal. My parents give me everything I need. I'm so lucky in that respect, but I hate being so dependent. I'm conscious that while I'm sitting here writing this blog post, other young people are at work or school. Soon enough I will be too!

I'm happy to have this time to rest whenever I need to, but I feel anxious to have a real life again, especially since I realized I've been out of school and not working for a total of 14 months. That's seven months off sick, four months in school, then another seven months off sick. It's a good thing I'm a sendentary homebody, otherwise I'd be crawling the walls by now. I wish my second semester was offered in September because I would have loved to have started then, despite all the bad days I've had this fall, many with problems I didn't even defer my second semester for! Overall I've really improved, though.

I'm also so excited to have more to write about here!

Wow. Look at all of the "I" in this post. I start almost every paragraph with "I." Sometimes I feel so self absorbed...

Tweet

NaNoWriMo and the Body

Well, my NaNoWriMo adventure has been going... But not at the necessary rate. I only have about 3000 words down *gasp* because I have to write it by hand. My computer is down. I'm actually writing this from a computer in my kitchen. Mind you I started NaNo late and I don't think I would hold myself to the required 50, 000 words for November. So I guess the lack of computer is an excuse. It's so easy to make excuses to avoid deadlines or focus on writing like "Oh, I can't write now. I have to clean my room." -- Not that I personally jump at the opportunity to clean my room. It's really just a way to avoid insecurities. It's not laziness for most people like me who love to write.

I am taking a break from my half-eaten chicken blt sandwich. The room is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock behind me. It's dark except for a light above the oven, little red lights on the phones and answering machine. Oh, and the dishwasher light is blinking, but I covered it with a folded towel. I hate glowing lights (I also cover my alarm clock at night) but I hate blinking glowing lights even more.

I'm sure I would have many more words down for NaNoWrimo if I had been typing. I'm a pretty fast typer and typing doesn't really fatigue my hands. Handwriting is slow and painful for me after more than a few sentences. I think it's mostly perfectly legible, but when I get really passionately involved with the writing, my handwriting goes downhill because I try to handwrite as fast as the words come to me, gripping the pen harder (partly because of the growing hand fatigue and reduction of fine motor skills), bringing my face close to the page while I rest my elbows on the table. I like that emotions can be read through handwriting. Emotions can affect everything from how hard you write on the paper to how big each letter is.

For this reason, I was thinking it would be really cool to publish my novel, which so far is comprised of diary entries and letters as I explained here, as a handwritten document, instead of a typed one. Then people could see emotions in my handwriting as well as my insecurities in the stuff I cross out. BUT these are my emotions, as a fiction writer, not those of my characters, so to accurately create emotions for my characters, I would have to tailor my handwriting and line-throughs to what I think the handwriting of my character(s) would look like.

Is that even possible? Can I change my handwriting no matter how passionate I am? No matter how much my hand hurts? I'm sure I could do these things, but not without sacrificing the work itself. You see, I'd have to concentrate on the handwriting instead of the words. Obviously that's a bad move. Word processing is best, but it's been interesting to handwrite fiction. It will be cool to see if I write my novel differently when I type it.

The most obvious change in the novel when I start typing it (after my computer is better and I've typed up the handwritten work) is that I will be less choosy about my words. I type fast and effortlessly, so each word counts less whereas when I handwrite, I make each word count because the words are strenuous to write. Even writing in straight, level lines is a challenge because the journal I'm using to write doesn't have lined pages. There are so many decisions: how much space to leave between each lines, when to try to fit one more line in at the bottom of the page. Writing helps me visual organize my thoughts -- and words also. I want my writing to look pretty. That also involves varying lengths of paragraphs and leaving indentations on the top, bottom and sides of the page. Writing becomes a physical thing, requiring more focus and discipline. I become more conscious of my body because of the pain and strain.

Also, the passion alone makes me aware of my body. I chose to stop working on my novel last night because I was feeling sick and I didn't want to stress myself. The old ticker was beating violently throughout much of yesterday, but when this happens, it usually doesn't profoundly affect my energy or strength. I like to keep busy to distract myself and also because I'm grateful I handle it so well. Fortunately, my heart is usually well behaved. It's certainly the least prominent and difficult of my symptoms, but it frustrates me that this happens despite my heart medication, that I just have to live with it.

For three or four days my balance was really not good. I was stumbling and tipping over very often. It's strenuous and unnerving to avoid falling, but it's good now. I'm seriously rethinking getting a walking cane, just for those bad balance periods. I just can't go on without support anymore when I feel like that. It's such a hard decision, though. I don't want people thinking I'm weak, delicate or less capable of doing things. A big part of it also is that I'm so stubborn and I like to do things on my own. I don't like to ask for help. On the opposite end, I don't want people thinking I use the cane for attention or to get out of things. These latter perceptions seem possible by people who don't know me well, as I will only use the cane sometimes and I can clearly walk without it. I can run.

Anyway, please send your thoughts to my stupid -- I mean ailing -- computer.

One Year and NaNoWriMo

This month marks a year since I started writing in this blog regularly. This anniversary has got me thinking about how writers decide how much time to take to create something and how writers know when to stop deleting and re-writing. How do you know when you are "done"?

I am considering an unusual experiment to learn how to write creatively with a deadline. I have written many, many papers in university and college on a deadline. I was proudest of some that I wrote when the adrenaline was high (not too high, as I was always laid back about school, but higher than normal for me) and I had only hours left. School papers are obviously different from creative writing in many ways. A school paper deadline is less daunting because the criteria for it is clear. There is often a formula.

My experiment will be to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). The goal is to begin and complete a novel of at least 50, 000 words in the month of November. I will likely go into December because I am starting this late.

A couple of my friends from university who have done NaNoWrimo have suggested a few times for a while now that I participate. I was hesitant because I don't write really any fiction any more and have never so much even completed a short story, let alone a novel! Also, the idea of placing quantity over quality irked me. I've never been fond of committing to paper words and ideas that I don't like. At least, I don't let those words -- paragraphs, rather -- stay on the page for long. Picture tortured writers in the movies ripping pages from their typewriters, crumpling them and throwing them onto a lapsed pile of crumpled pages in a wastebasket and on the floor.

NaNoWriMo will be a good exercise for me, though and not just because I'm not working or in school, or doing much of anything. Forcing myself to meet daily word counts will force myself to stop censoring myself and just keep writing. I think so many ideas and insights are lost when we don't allow ourselves to write things because we are self-conscious.

I'm thinking of writing a novel comprised of letters between two sisters and one of those sisters' diary entries. This sister will have some sort of illness that will force her to stay at home for a year and postpone her career, halt friendships, etc. while her sister, with whom she is exchanging these letters, is building her career and traveling. The novel will be about the ups and downs of trying to live a full life despite life being on pause. Using letters and diary entries will emphasize the character's physical disconnection from people, furthering her development as a writer, but also as a hermit. This will be her sick writer identity. When she interacts with people by phone or in person, she will have another identity I haven't decided on, but her illness won't really be part of it. At least she'll try to keep those identities separate.

Obviously (especially to people who know me well), this novel will be semi-autobiographical. It's a shortcut to story development and writing what I know will also help me reach my word count in such a short time period by rendering research virtually unnecessary. If I were seriously writing a novel, I would opt to write about people and experiences I was less familiar with. I would thoroughly research by talking to people, visiting places, researching vocations, etc.

I know my ideas are good for a novel are good, but I'm not afraid of people stealing them. They can only steal the premise, not my style or execution, both of which are uniquely my own.

There are some things I will not write about in my NaNoWriMo venture or any other attempt at fiction, unless or until I experience them for myself. In a few of my attempts at short stories, my characters have been sexual beings or have noted behaviours of other sexual beings (ahem, male sexual beings) mainly because of my curiosities about romance and sex, as well as my superficial goal to be edgy and irreverent. I guess a sickly virgin is the ideal innocent character anyway, eh? Maybe she should be very religious. Nah, who am I kidding. I'm an Atheist.

One of my friends I mentioned who recommended I do NaNoWrimo also suggested I look up a group of NaNoWriMo participants in my city and go write with them. I won't because I am a solitary writer. Maybe I will try that next year, though. I enjoy being friends with writers and it could be fun to bounce ideas off people and let them bounce ideas off me. Also, writing in a new environment with a bunch of people could be an interesting stimulation.

If you are participating in NaNoWrimo, please let me know how your novel is going!