Adventures

On Saturday, my mother, brother, and I went to Salt Lake City to meet up with our old friend from High School. We saw the new Spiderwick movie at the IMAX theater. It was great. I read the first Spiderwick book in the car and the first half of the second one, so I knew enough to be a little annoyed with the way they treated the characters in the film. They turned a bunch of characters who were charming into whining Hollywood charicatures. Well, c'est le vie. That's the influence Hollywood has. That's why I'm not sure I'd want to let anyone make a movie out of my book, if I ever publish any. It would be heartbreaking if they didn't "get it right," and I don't know how much creative control I, as the writer, would have.
Also, the movie was a little disappinting on the IMAX. The screen was big, granted, but it didn't seem all that big. That might be because of modern movies' tendency to zoom in REALLY CLOSE, like up-the-nostril, I-think-I-got-your-snot-on-the-lens close, so I never feel like I really see the whole picture. It's as though I'm watching a scene through binoculars. And whatever happened to holding a shot for more than five seconds? Then they wonder why all the kids have ADD. If I was constantly bombarded with shifting perspectives on TV and in movies, I might.... hey, what's that?

After the movie, my mother and my brother returned to Logan, and I stayed in Salt Lake with my friend. We were going to go to a metal show, but when we showed up, they wouldn't let me in because my ID is expired. I felt terrible after that, my mood completely ruined, and we just went back to the hotel. The hotel we stayed in was fascinating. The clerk was a tiny, elderly woman, the kind who doesn't seem to notice she's old, with way too much make-up, a permanent frown around her jowls, and hideously long, glossy nails. The room itself was manageable, but the sheets had holes in them and I could hear everything going on outside. After we got back from the non-show, we chatted, then went to bed. In the morning, I sat up and waited for the day to begin. I read a little Wuthering Heights and enjoyed that quiet time of day where I didn't have to be anywhere or be doing anything. It was just mildly ruined by the symphony of small children in the next room coming through the paper-like walls. My friend and I then had breakfast at Denny's. It was fascinating. Our server was rushed and not terribly polite, and yet I left him a tip. Why am I so well trained? We sat near a Hispanic man and his brood of at least four small children, and across from a couple, half of which was a hideous formless woman with a ponytail and a backwards cap. Why does that same sort of woman seem to be everywhere?

We went to a cool little coffee shop called Addicted Coffee, where my friend bought a chai and we played free Guitar Hero 3 on PS2. It took me a while to figure out how to turn on the wireless guitar controller. How embarassing! But, after bombing "Hier Kommt Alex" on medium, I nailed "Welcome to the Jungle" on medium. Rock star godhood, here I come!

We then went to see Jumper. It raised a few interesting questions, but was generally forgettable. It was interesting to see Anakin Skywalker in a new role. Hollywood is probably going to have to go with him until they find a new leading man who actually has talent. Someone who has natural charisma and can create a character outside of the spoken lines: the mannerisms and expressions that truly flesh out a well-played role.

We rounded out the night by coming back to Logan and, after a dinner of lovely soup prepared by my mother, jumping on the webcam to hang out with my other brother. He and I took turns reading from a story we jointly wrote a while back, much to my friend's amusement.

Stay frosty, my little chipmunks.

Poets, et all

Today, the poet Naomi Shihab Nye visited my campus, and I had the pleasure of eating lunch with her at noon. I also attended the "master class" she presented at three o'clock. She also came to the faculty panel about creativity at one o'clock. So, today was Naomi Nye-riffic. But contrary to my usual cynicism/irony, I really enjoyed her company. Her poetry is very down-to-Earth, and it wasn't surprising to find that she, too, is down to Earth. She seemed genuinely happy to be here on this snowy college campus, which I can't imagine, since the other ninety percent of the people living here are all busy complaining about the snow and ice.



She was very cordial at lunch today, which I attended with three other student writers, all of whom are female. So, as I've gotten more or less used to, I was the sole representer of the less fair sex. We talked about several things over lunch, such as the weather, the beauty of nature (Ms. Nye had seen a moose earlier, and I told her how jealous I am that she's been in Utah two days and already has a moose sighting, while I've gone four years without one), and the relative nature of the way we see time (for instance, in the Western United States, a building that's two hundred years old is considered old!). She asked us all about what we're doing, and encouraged us to write about our lives, using our experiences and insights.

The creative panel was very interesting. After all, I call myself a creative writer, but what does it mean to be creative? Every story that can be told probably has been, in some form, so what is creativity? The panel seemed to decide it was originality and innovation: creating something new that has fresh meaning and worth.

Then it was off to the master class. What to do when it's a room full of creative writing-types being controlled by another creative writing type? Miss Nye is a middle-aged, very amiable woman, not much more than five feet tall if that, but she has a charmingly disarming personality. She talked about a number of things, from the importance of writing every day to the wonders of travel and getting to know different places. More than anything, when good writers talk, it's a pleasure to listen to them because of the way they clearly enjoy language. When they speak, it's almost an ode to words and communication. That's something I have trouble with; my words feel like they don't fit in my mouth.

I'm going to see her read her poetry at seven. That's a bit backwards, I think: the poet should read first, so I have her words in my head when I listen to her tell me where they come from. But this is the way it worked out.

There's a terrible blizzard. They actually cancelled evening classes. We'll have to see how that turns out!

So, here I am.

Today was just another day. Or is, rather, seeing as how it's not done yet. Sometimes I wonder whether I'll have enough in my head to fill a blog. After all, I don't have any causes that I would want to support. I don't believe in them; I believe in ideals. Causes divide people, and concentrating on one problem obscures the others. So therefore, I believe in a few things, although those things tend to change and shift depending on my mood. As Groucho Marx famously said, "Those are my values. If you don't like them, I have others." Or something along those lines.

More than anything, I regret that I have been born in an age where things are in such flux. Of course, the feelings I have are natural to such a time: I feel drawn one way by the grace of bygone times and the romance that surrounds them, and I feel drawn the other way by the awe-inspiring promise of the future. And then, looming over all of that, is the inevitability of evil and the sheer inescapable majesty of change.

I wish I lived in Tokyo, or some other city that feels so now. The place I live feels very then. Sometimes I want to walk up to people on the street and shake them, shouting, "People have landed on the moon! We've split the atom! Cloning is feasible! Take a look around at the world you think you are protecting with your conservativism. It's not there any more!" And the world I said that in will, too, be gone before I even know it.

I think back to the birth of the internet, and the way it was in the early days. Websites were mostly run by techies and other geeks. It felt innocent and fun, like the novelty still glowed on it. I think that's the way it still is, on the edges, but it's like a fungus that's grown far beyond where it began, and it only still glows far beyond the places most of us travel.

The idea is to travel there. It is the final frontier, and the ultimate frontier: the more we seek it, the more it expands.

Never stop seeking.