In the past month or so, I've twice woken up from a dream and thought to myself "that would make an awesome story! I should write this down." I've been keeping a notebook near my bed and on my person whenever possible explicitly for that purpose. I feel like I've let too many great ideas slip through my fingers like so much smoke.
Well, it happened again. It was like a total meta-dream. There was this great story, but I can't remember it now - all I can recall, for the life of me, is that it reminded me of that old story "The Gift of the Magi," but was different enough to matter. I remember dreaming about talking to my friends about how awesome of a story it would be, and them encouraging me to explore it. I remember thinking it could be part of a great short-story cycle (no doubt influenced by my taking a class on that literary form this semester). I distinctly remember waking up, and thinking to write it down. I even remember writing it down... twice!... but I guess those were just dreams too.
It's really remarkable how those ideas can just dissipate. It seemed so clear to me at the time, I didn't think I'd ever forget it. When I woke up, there was nary a trace of the story's core. It just seems like such a waste.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Left Brain; Right Brain
I missed my chance.
For a while now, I've had this nagging feeling that I'm doing it all wrong. I parade around, pretending I'm a writer, a poet. One would think that that would entail, you know, writing things. If not poems, not stories or editorials then at least a blog entry now and again. Hardly. I am the John Cage of literature. Witness the silence.
I'm haunted by this feeling that I'm wasting something great. I'm a smart guy, and reasonably talented. If I'm not creating some mind-shattering art, I feel like I should be curing cancer or something. Math comes easy to me, almost as easy as writing... the only difference is that I fucking hate math. But you know, the likelihood of changing the world through art that I don't even practice is pretty nil. If I were a scientist or mathematician, at least I'd be doing something, in the grand scheme.
The other day, we did this brief mock-experiment in Psych class. The class split in to two groups, the first asking the second a series of unrelated and ultimately unimportant questions. The theory was this - people who were right-brain dominant (the supposedly creative side of the brain) would look left while they thought about the answers. Vice versa for left-brained (the logical side of the brain).
It was kind of sad. Having been one of the people asking the questions and analyzing the results, I felt a little unresolved. I felt I had missed my chance. I wanted to know - I am left brained or right? I am supposed to be logical or artistic? Mastering cold fusion or thought-provoking poetry? I can do both, I just don't know which I should be doing. I tried to think of inane but challenging questions for myself. Of course I looked left, but who knows if that's just my subconscious telling me what I want to hear. Then again, that should be all the answer I need.
For a while now, I've had this nagging feeling that I'm doing it all wrong. I parade around, pretending I'm a writer, a poet. One would think that that would entail, you know, writing things. If not poems, not stories or editorials then at least a blog entry now and again. Hardly. I am the John Cage of literature. Witness the silence.
I'm haunted by this feeling that I'm wasting something great. I'm a smart guy, and reasonably talented. If I'm not creating some mind-shattering art, I feel like I should be curing cancer or something. Math comes easy to me, almost as easy as writing... the only difference is that I fucking hate math. But you know, the likelihood of changing the world through art that I don't even practice is pretty nil. If I were a scientist or mathematician, at least I'd be doing something, in the grand scheme.
The other day, we did this brief mock-experiment in Psych class. The class split in to two groups, the first asking the second a series of unrelated and ultimately unimportant questions. The theory was this - people who were right-brain dominant (the supposedly creative side of the brain) would look left while they thought about the answers. Vice versa for left-brained (the logical side of the brain).
It was kind of sad. Having been one of the people asking the questions and analyzing the results, I felt a little unresolved. I felt I had missed my chance. I wanted to know - I am left brained or right? I am supposed to be logical or artistic? Mastering cold fusion or thought-provoking poetry? I can do both, I just don't know which I should be doing. I tried to think of inane but challenging questions for myself. Of course I looked left, but who knows if that's just my subconscious telling me what I want to hear. Then again, that should be all the answer I need.
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