The first order of business is to congratulate +Sheila Bennett, a friend and my intellectual superior by a factor of about ten thousand. She was the only one to tweet me the correct answer to yesterday's question, so she gets a big shiny mention at the top of the blog. She also brews a wonderful coffee. That's neither here nor there, but it's a skill that sadly very few people actually have.
(As a side note, and because I absolutely know I'll get a message in angry Spanish if I don't, my beautiful but absent friend Paula also got it right, because she's smart, but forgot to tweet me, because you can't be the beautiful and notice all the details.)
The reason this blog is entitled Holy frack is because it passed the 10 000 view mark sometime today, and quite frankly I couldn't be more humbled. I enjoy writing enormously, and this has just encouraged me to keep doing it, so thanks. You guys rock.
As a token of my appreciation, I would like to offer you guys a chance to be the boss. Tweet me (@jonodrew), or leave a comment, give me a monologue or dialogue or, in fact, anything at all and I shall record it and put it on this blog. Any requests received in the next 24 hours only will be performed to the best of my ability. Any.
So: this morning I went in early and absolutely smashed through the translation I was given at the last moment. Seriously chuffed with myself for that; it was only a page and not too hard but the credit I now have with my colleague (who comes in at eight) should stand me in good stead in the future. In any case, I've started getting up a little earlier; I actually find that on four hours sleep I work just as well as on six, and since time is limited and I have a lot of stuff to read I've just started waking up earlier. There are less people using up the bandwidth as well, so I can watch the French news as I read.
I'd not had time to pick up breakfast yesterday so this morning I whipped up a two-egg omelette, which I highly recommend as a day-starter. Went in at 8.30, translation was completed by 9.30. There was more administration to take care of, and before very long it was midday. I went down to my poor, empty, hollowed out mediatheque and spent the day with sleeves rolled up, packing away the last few books and video cassettes and transporting things to my new office on the 2nd floor.
Oh yes. I have a new office, and it is absolutely gorgeous. I have it for exactly 8 weeks. I must learn not to fall for it; ours will be a short love, but a passionate one.
I paid my weekend wages into the bank today at last, so with any luck my little travelling fund will swell a little tomorrow morning. This evening's French lesson was frustrating, the other students seemed completely uninspired and as a result the atmosphere was leaden. Everyone has days like that, and the teacher did her best, but it takes a great teacher to make the subjunctive "mood" exciting.
I want you to meet my very good friend Mary-Lyne. She's normally quite scary. Honest.
She just doesn't seem that way. She just seems kind of cute. However, once you're past the intro, she tells the story really well and with a lot of humour. Good storytelling.
So: once again, all requests for dramatic readings will be honoured, new office (groovy), subjunctive tense (not groovy) and my friend who pretends to terror but is really just terrifically cute.
Year Abroad winning again.
Showing posts with label storytelling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storytelling. Show all posts
Tuesday, 19 February 2013
Wednesday, 16 January 2013
You're making things up again, Arnold
I'm extremely keen to see The Book of Mormon, from whence comes the title of this post. The reason for this title is that a student of mine asked for a story, and I was momentarily stumped. I enjoy telling stories enormously; give me a skeleton of ideas and I shall happily lay flesh on its bones - hardly a talent, as I'm sure anyone can do it.
However, to just make something up - to ask for creativity to suddenly rouse itself from slumber and behave in an orderly manner - is utterly terrifying. I applied for something at +Edelman, and have never been so thankful when they gave a solid and interesting creative writing task. I cannot feasibly imagine anything more terrifying than being under pressure and just being told to "Write something" or "Show your creativity."
All of this is by way of explaining that the high point of my day has been retelling a Norse legend about Loki and discussing the Theory of Forms which, to my eternal shame, I ascribed to Aristotle and not, as it ought to be, to Plato. I await with anxiety the displeasure of the philosophers who read this.
In the news today the shock that horsemeat has been found in burgers rumbles on, which I find very peculiar. A person who eats sheep and cows and pigs but is unsettled by horse is surely logically inconsistent. Either you eat meat, in which case you eat meat whether it be horse or pig, cow or cat. There is no reason not to. Alternatively you are a vegetarian, in which case you're probably pointing out the same thing as I am and, maybe, feeling a little smug and superior.
If you are a cannibal then I suspect you've no idea what all the fuss is about, but you might be interested to know that you are etymologically kin to Caliban, the savage in The Tempest, and that both spring from Columbus' rendering of the Carib's name for themselves.
Projects are coming in thick and fast now; a transcription, a video to be edited and more favours to beg of my brother as the move from my basement to an office with windows edges closer. For those teaching English abroad, are there any particularly good resources you can suggest for my new, 21st-century media center?
However, to just make something up - to ask for creativity to suddenly rouse itself from slumber and behave in an orderly manner - is utterly terrifying. I applied for something at +Edelman, and have never been so thankful when they gave a solid and interesting creative writing task. I cannot feasibly imagine anything more terrifying than being under pressure and just being told to "Write something" or "Show your creativity."
All of this is by way of explaining that the high point of my day has been retelling a Norse legend about Loki and discussing the Theory of Forms which, to my eternal shame, I ascribed to Aristotle and not, as it ought to be, to Plato. I await with anxiety the displeasure of the philosophers who read this.
In the news today the shock that horsemeat has been found in burgers rumbles on, which I find very peculiar. A person who eats sheep and cows and pigs but is unsettled by horse is surely logically inconsistent. Either you eat meat, in which case you eat meat whether it be horse or pig, cow or cat. There is no reason not to. Alternatively you are a vegetarian, in which case you're probably pointing out the same thing as I am and, maybe, feeling a little smug and superior.
If you are a cannibal then I suspect you've no idea what all the fuss is about, but you might be interested to know that you are etymologically kin to Caliban, the savage in The Tempest, and that both spring from Columbus' rendering of the Carib's name for themselves.
Projects are coming in thick and fast now; a transcription, a video to be edited and more favours to beg of my brother as the move from my basement to an office with windows edges closer. For those teaching English abroad, are there any particularly good resources you can suggest for my new, 21st-century media center?
Friday, 14 December 2012
Telling the truth with lies - PR
First up: my cousin is getting married in January. Both my father and my brother will be in Dubai, so I will be escorting my sisters and my mother to a wedding. If I escape with my sanity intact, there may indeed be a God, and a merciful one at that. It sounds like it's going to be rushed and hectic, which I suspect all weddings are whether preparations started a year or a month ago.
It's also a very romantic story, and romantic stories - really, any stories - make me very happy. Weddings especially though. Love is a tricky thing to pin down, and if two people can find it with each other, then celebrations are certainly in order. Though I'm still not sure about the (agreed, symbolic) "giving away" of the bride, harkening back to a time when girls were so useless that you had to literally give them away, along with a gift of money. We certainly don't make the bride's father pay a huge sum of money so that we can take her off his hands.
By, say, making him pay for the wedding itself.
That definitely does not happen any more.
The problem with changing this idea is that it's a tradition, and tradition just means "story that people have told for a long time." Stories have power; we learn that from the cradle. There are thousands of fantastic articles detailing the power stories have and, although I'd cheerfully advocate reading all of them, why not start with a story about the power of stories. It's complex, but trust me. Witches Abroad, by Terry Pratchett, is brilliant and although it's fictional, so are a lot of stories. It doesn't make them less real, just less true.
Not untrue, though. All stories need a kernel of truth. You can wrap that kernel in so many lies that it takes another form - racism is the truth "I'm scared of change" wrapped up in social, economic and political language until it becomes almost acceptable. The message of the story is formed of the lies with which you wrap your truth.
And yes, of course you can tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but the fact is that's boring. Any omission might be considered a lie, and a story with no omissions is dull. As an example, 24 is well-known for the fact that Jack Bauer has never, ever gone to the toilet. Ever. Why? Because that's dull. It's a necessary lie to tell the truth that we really like Jack Bauer being Jack Bauer, and he loses a portion of that character when he has to take a toilet break. It's one of the few times when dynamic action is really frowned upon.
I mean you don't actually look and frown, because that might be weirder. Etiquette in the gents' is a hydra of potential slip-ups. (Pun intended and immediately regretted.)
In short, if you're telling a story, first you need to find your truth. And if you want to tell the world something true, then you might need to find yourself a storyteller.
It's also a very romantic story, and romantic stories - really, any stories - make me very happy. Weddings especially though. Love is a tricky thing to pin down, and if two people can find it with each other, then celebrations are certainly in order. Though I'm still not sure about the (agreed, symbolic) "giving away" of the bride, harkening back to a time when girls were so useless that you had to literally give them away, along with a gift of money. We certainly don't make the bride's father pay a huge sum of money so that we can take her off his hands.
By, say, making him pay for the wedding itself.
That definitely does not happen any more.
The problem with changing this idea is that it's a tradition, and tradition just means "story that people have told for a long time." Stories have power; we learn that from the cradle. There are thousands of fantastic articles detailing the power stories have and, although I'd cheerfully advocate reading all of them, why not start with a story about the power of stories. It's complex, but trust me. Witches Abroad, by Terry Pratchett, is brilliant and although it's fictional, so are a lot of stories. It doesn't make them less real, just less true.
Not untrue, though. All stories need a kernel of truth. You can wrap that kernel in so many lies that it takes another form - racism is the truth "I'm scared of change" wrapped up in social, economic and political language until it becomes almost acceptable. The message of the story is formed of the lies with which you wrap your truth.
And yes, of course you can tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but the fact is that's boring. Any omission might be considered a lie, and a story with no omissions is dull. As an example, 24 is well-known for the fact that Jack Bauer has never, ever gone to the toilet. Ever. Why? Because that's dull. It's a necessary lie to tell the truth that we really like Jack Bauer being Jack Bauer, and he loses a portion of that character when he has to take a toilet break. It's one of the few times when dynamic action is really frowned upon.
I mean you don't actually look and frown, because that might be weirder. Etiquette in the gents' is a hydra of potential slip-ups. (Pun intended and immediately regretted.)
In short, if you're telling a story, first you need to find your truth. And if you want to tell the world something true, then you might need to find yourself a storyteller.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)