Art For Art's Sake

Is art ever art for art's sake? Should it be?

I do think there is art for art's sake and there is much refinement and enjoyment that one can receive from such art, in any form of expression available to the humankind on earth in 21st Century.

But art itself imitates life and life often strives to imitate that of art, at least in my own personal life and observations has been true thus far. I think when art gains a deeper meaning and allows us to see the painful truths we have become adjusted and blind to. It packages our values, ambitions and goals and neatly represents them in another perspective that we can clearly see what the outsiders sees and what we are unable to see.

What do you think? Am I far off base here?

Writing Update

I don't exactly know what kind of Mini Courses U.W. will be offering for fall. I am assuming there will be several related to Fiction, which I am resolved to register and take all of them.

Besides that, it turns out I have to take a Compass Test in order for me to start my Journalism Certificate classes. That's okay, I am not particularly worried about doing well enough in the English part that I will pass out of English 101. After all, that is required in order for me to take the classes that I need. It is a bit bummer, but there is very little to do about that. My courses usually are full length and therefore are more expensive. I was hoping that this wouldn't be the case. Finding the money is going to be difficult, though I am hoping new opportunities will rise for then, by then. MATC is on hold until the Compass Test and money. Though there is one course that is only $99, not related to Journalism, but instead directly to writing titled "Publishing A Novel" which I will be taking, as soon as I gather the money for it.

Besides that, I've been doing some research and have been researching fiction contests, literary magazines and writing workshops, conferences in and around Madison. I am so happy to have found so many great ones. Since I do not have a story yet, there is very little I can do about submitting my work. But knowing my avenues is a great comfort and a sigh of relief to my mind. This way, I have tangible goals that can be reached and checked off my list.

I am not sure about a Creative Writing Degree, but I am beginning to consider it as a viable option in some sorts.

Now, if I could be factually, orderly and in a disciplined matter be writing those great stories that used to clutter my mind continually and made me a lunatic.

Writing Again

To be writing again is strange. The only thing that comes to mind is of two subjects and two subjects alone. It either has to be about that time in June, or the past several months in the Winter that I was severely depressed.

I choose to write about the latter for my own sanity. The wounds are far too fresh for me to coherently write something and not be effected by it under any circumstance. The other is more manageable, controllable and I believe I will even benefit if I were to analyze and write a story about this. I am not sure what I will do with the story eventually, however, it is better than not writing at all.

I live to write and writing is as essential as eating, sleeping, excreting waste and taking care of other bodily needs. It is also one of the most dangerous things I can do to myself. It is lethal where it can either make or break me. I tie my misfortunes, mistakes and inability to grasp ideas, life, people with if I am writing, or writing enough or not. Crazy, huh?

After a long pause though, it's great to be writing fiction again.

Coming to a close

Today is the last day of my Fiction Writing class. It's bitter because, well, I am a pout and like to rain on everybody's parade. Simply, if I wanted to pay for having the time to write, I could have done so. I would have created a writer's group where we could pay to read our writings.

But then again, I am glad having gotten the ability to go back to writing, without strings attached and having to worry about turning my unpolished work for a grade. Besides, we've been so busy with so much that, I barely got the time to hand in several pages of a story and two character sketches. Though, on a personal level it has done me a great deal of therapy.

But I was hoping for a far more structured, informative, planned ahead, with serious homework load, class time preserved for instruction and different writing exercises that would kick start any levels motivation and also imagination. I also work better with unmovable due dates, grave attitude and serious atmosphere where consequences are made real and heavy with a structured, organized lesson plans. I learn the best that day.

I am glad I began and finished this class even though it felt a bit of a waste of my time. I was able to recognize several things about myself, personality and mind working ways, as well as about myself as a writer and had a lens poking through about me, my work in depth. I am glad to see all my work of the previous years has had a cumulative effect on my writing. The level of my writing has seriously been upgraded. The stories I am able to imagine and capable of sketching out, flushing out, characterizing has also become somewhat more sophisticated.

Even these things are worthy enough to recognize, though I did not need to pay 70 dollars to see it.

At least I feel like I've taken the first step towards becoming a professional writer that I have been hesitating, and had no idea where to begin. I feel like, I am one step closer and that I could actually do this. To feel an impossible dream is one step closer to becoming improbable is a lift to my heavy curtained heart.

Commitment to Moving

We're fully back and immersed in our lives. Madison.

We're nearly packed and there is not much left. About two months until we move. I could not been any more agitated, anxious and ready to get this move done with. I have no more ties with this place. It's an overbearing, stifling place with no sunshine. No sunshine! At all! I have all these memories bottled up in here and everything is a constant reminder to me. I just don't want to come back at the end of the night and my own personal empire is shrinking, pacing back and about to be destroyed.

I'd like to ease and settle in again, and go back to my own daily schedule and fix my focus on myself, my craft and my own future rather than keep swallowing the old tears of the past.

Overcoming Fear

This one huge problem is staring at us. How to solve it when you're afraid to move?

I've been beginning to desire writing. There is a tight shackle that bounds me into silence. It's called fear. It's useless sometimes. I wouldn't go so far to say that fear is never a useful emotion. That would be a huge lie standing from a biological evolutionary theory. As humans we developed fear to assess dangerous situations to our survival and extinction. It is often intuitive. There is some sort of an association of dangerous territory, unknown results, information that we're lacking and we have no idea the change it can create in us. This is the latter kind of fear we have developed as we slowly made our way into the modern world as humans. Our collective conscious tells us we no longer to fear for our survival on a daily basis, however there are other things that we fear now for our existence, the psychological, mental balance of our lives.

I am empowering myself with information. It's looking more horrible than before. But now, we are beyond desperate. So, we'll have to overcome it, grit out teeth and finish the last item on our agenda. Here we come.

Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence

I began reading "Lady Chatterley's Lover" today. I couldn't get very far, but that's okay for now. I haven't been able to read anything in months and being able to pick up this book simply, is enough success to me. I am slowly getting better. Slowly getting back on my feet. Slowly beginning to return to normal. Today, I am lucky and thankful. I could still be in such a worse condition that I don't even want to draw comparisons. Long walks and some sunshine have been instruemental. Maybe, now S is tired and needs more attention has got to do with it. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I am getting out of this depression and I am happy about it.

The book looks promising to me so far. I like the character Connie. She is so time forward for her age. I enjoyed the writing so far, though I don't know what I think about Clifford. I guess we'll have to find out, how I feel about Clifford in time.

Have you read Lady Chatterley? If so, what do you think? Any recommendations by D.H. Lawrence?