February 2010 Archives

Winter 2: The Reckoning

By Cathy on February 24, 2010 11:04 PM | No Comments
Yes, if you had been thinking (as I was) that this winter was too good to be true, you were right. We're getting enough snow now to make up for the rest of the season, which I generally don't mind, but I fell on my driveway this morning and that makes it personal. At least personal enough that I was inspired to shovel the driveway this afternoon.

And then it snowed some more, so it's not shoveled anymore.

We're inching slowly towards the end of this week and the welcome embrace of spring (ha ha) break. For once, I'll actually be doing more with my week off than sitting on the couch and letting Sydney in and out, which is nice. W. Max Eddy's going to be coming up to visit for a couple days and has kindly given me and Zack spare tickets to see A Prairie Home Companion in Detroit with him. Afterwards, I'm driving down to D.C. with him to hang out for a few days, work on my pilot of TV Screenwriting II, and maybe see a burlesque show or something. I'm very excited.

Afterwards, I'll come back to Rochester for a few days of the requisite dog-snuggling. And then it'll be the last half of my last semester and oh God what am I going to do with myself.

It's going to be okay, though. I have a plan. Really.

Easing Back In

By Cathy on February 17, 2010 9:34 PM | No Comments
A handful of degrees makes all the difference in a Michigan winter. Overall, this one's been warmer and dryer than usual, and I can't really protest. With the temperature hovering around the mid-twenties, it's perfectly feasible to loiter around outside or take your time walking somewhere. I really love that. Of course it's ridiculous to say "AH, THAT GLOBAL WARMING'S NOT ALL BAD AFTER ALL." But I did just say it. So...yeah.

I've been getting a lot of sleep lately. What a novel idea, huh? Get this--it's really great. I highly recommend it. In fact, I highly recommend most things that will make you not feel like shit. This is how I got my reputation for being sensible.

I feel like I'm being a smart-ass (or "smart-acre"). I'm out of practice writing conversational, lighthearted blog entries. My natural impulse nowadays is to start bitching about how I'm not going to find a job. But I'm NOT GOING TO DO THAT HERE. I swear.

Oh, hey, did you hear that Obama's our commencement speaker? President Obama, not some other Obama, either. I hadn't planned on going before, but now I'm all gung-ho, probably along with every other graduating senior. It's going to be a total mess. And I can just see myself getting sniped accidentally. That would be just my luck.

Poetic Realism

By Cathy on February 15, 2010 7:57 PM | No Comments
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It's easy for me to say that Twitter drains all my will to blog, since it allows me to broadcast my life whenever and wherever I want and prevents that urge from filling up to blog entry proportions, but I'm not sure if it's actually true. It's certainly a reasonable argument, but that doesn't make it useful. I certainly haven't changed my behavior much as a result of it. And I really should. For all that blogging is trashed in the popular media as being cheap and narcissistic, for me it might well be the ticket to finding employment. These days, that seems to be the be-all end-all for me.

It's another topic I have a lot of reasonable thoughts, answers, and opinions about. I get asked about my plans on a pretty regular basis, so it makes sense that I am well-versed at talking about them, usually with a self-deprecating, sardonic shrug. I am very good at appearing endearingly helpless at the hands of fate and a tough job market. But what good does that do?

In French National Cinema, we're studying Poetic Realism, a pre-war movement that essentially encapsulates the epitome of a French film for most people. A Poetic Realist film might have this dialogue:
Man: But what is freedom? Just an illusion. The illusion that we could escape from this cage called the world. There is no freedom.
Woman: And what about love?
Man: Sometimes we meet someone who helps us, a stranger. But soon they are gone. We don't have time for love.
Woman: All is lost.
Man: I know.
Woman: Kiss me.
In short, it's French disillusionment and cynicism at its best. The problem with it, though, is that it doesn't allow for redemption, salvation, success, free will, or optimism. It's unrelentingly pessimistically pragmatic.

What use is pragmatism if it doesn't offer any solutions, if it just recognizes life's difficulties as insurmountable and definite? Very little, to my mind.
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