The power of a name

To name something is to take away its power.

Rumpelstiltskin. The Doctor's real name. Awkward moment. Irrational anger. Fear.

I have a hard time remembering names, even the names of people I've known forever or see every day, I still forget their names sometimes.

My mom talked to me about how some people say things that she doesn't like, the kind of things I hear people say and feel angry about. What does one do in that situation? How is it resolved? Ignoring it? Probably not the best option, that leads to festering. Name the effect in your own head? Acknowledging anger helps, but isn't that more like a symptom of something else? Name what just happened that led to the feeling? That one is usually difficult. Saying how negative someone else is being, it puts both the other person on the spot, and you in the fire. Though when you name it properly and justly, can the fire really burn you? Does the same angel protect you who protected Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego?

Maybe she will if you know her name. Maybe she sees that you know it in your heart.

Either way, the thing that was named has become a fixed point, and lost its ability to follow and lead you in quite the same way. Nailing a moment or feeling down with its own name; I am willing to call that power.

Only the good die young

I miss liking some shows. I remember when 30 Rock started, it...well, it 30 rocked. It was not long after the mourning began over Arrested Development's untimely demise, so it was the closest thing to fill that viewing gap. Every season it improved and got better and better. Last season it was perfect, and continued to be so until the last two episodes. It forgot to tell me that it was keeping its momentum and growing. It got, dare I say, too silly for me. It may be nostalgia, but I remember it taking the characters seriously and giving them room to grow. Now it feels too static, yet feeling the need to keep pushing those boundaries. I guess my lines are drawn in the sand, and it pushed right through them, leaving me here on the beach wondering how I got here. I'll keep watching it, but I know they'll keep pushing the world so far into the ridiculous that I'll lose all connection with it.

Same with The Guild. It wasn't that great to begin with, but I loved the idea of it so much that I supported it (bought season 1 and 2 on DVD out of solidarity). Then season 3 came and with it a rival guild with characters cut from...I dunno, some gothic cereal box, I'm sure. Characters who would never exist as real people, then it kept going and I stopped watching it. It outgrew me.

Maybe that's why I still love Arrested Development, it widowed me, and now all I have is the memory of the good times, and they were all good times. We never had the chance to grow apart. Same with Firefly and the tenth doctor. All my truest loves died young. What am I supposed to do?

I think that's me. I love the heart of things, where they come from. I find that the first albums by bands are my favorite (Cake's Motorcade of Generosity is by far my favorite of theirs, and Weezer Blue is one of my top albums of all time). I think it might be because those are the songs they spent years perfecting, that truly speak from where they come from, before record deals allowed them to create more in shorter periods of time and they attain the lifestyle they always dreamed of, which somehow stunts them in the way that they can live solely in their own worlds. Maybe that's just the story I made up to justify it.

I think my approach to all this is to create something myself and follow its growth and change. Thing about kids, you kind of know what they'll be like when they grow up, but you're never really the one who chooses it for them. Kids grow and change and become bigger versions of themselves until life events happen and they make choices and adjust accordingly. Where will this baby take me? Probably far from where I started, unless it dies young. That's the journey.

Time and compulsion

Still trying to figure out how I can say yes to one thing and not say no to another. For a while there I said yes to most everything, but that burned me out, so now I am more selective. This gives me more "free" time, but I also feel like I am missing out on things, which is true. I think I even felt that before, but I have more time to feel it now.

I watched a program on savants on the Science channel. They have this compulsion in their brain that they cannot turn off. I do sometimes wish I had that so I would be compelled to write and create, but I am very glad I have the ability to turn it off. An uncontrollable obsession is not something I desire...that much.

I want to take a few more classes in different things, but I am focusing myself (instead of saying limiting myself) to two things outside of work; writing and improv. Other acting is mildly on hold...or at least limited, and though I see workshops on producing and other things I would like to learn, I have to say no to them if I want to keep my sanity.

Yep. I'm complaining about wanting to do more things. In all honesty, I think this blog is an excuse to not write, which is really what the rest of life is for writers. Even for Russel T. Davies (former showrunner for the new Doctor Who). At least I'm in good company. The question for me now is: how do I up the pressure to write without overtaxing myself? That's my next lesson in self control/motivation. I am open to suggestion (and threats if necessary).

The weight of the world

I love baths. I try to take as many of them as I can. That is my time, alone to think, and read, and create...mostly just to indulge in myself, my body relaxing and my mind minding.

That's my selfish time where I dream about future stories, both my own future (Emmy acceptance speech "...thank you.") and stories I want to tell (how exactly should I beat out that episode? What image can I not separate myself from?). The bath is where the world gets sucked out of me and into the epsom salts (yes, I use them), and bubbles, just for fun (and the scent of pomegranate or cherry blossom is just a nice thing to have around sometimes).

Not sure why I'm using so many parenthesis, these words are being said whether I pretend they're supposed to be a cute secret joke or not.

I just started reading "The Writer's Tale: the Final Chapter", a dialogue between former Doctor Who showrunner Russel T Davies and writer Benjamin Cook. I am opening myself up to that same bold use of honesty. Not sure how this will change or effect my blogs, but I do know that they will be different in some way henceforth. I've just given myself permission, which is..well, just what it is.

The story I was thinking of writing while in the bathtub:
I sometimes enjoy hitting the drain when I am done with the warm water and lie there as it drains, the water lowering in the tub, my body sinking down and down, getting heavier and heavier. What struck me today, is that I've never felt that my body was getting heavier, it's just as I describe it that I think that word. In my mind, every time I do this, I feel the cold air covering more of my front and the heaviness the air brings with it as evidence (in my mind) that I am traveling through space at fantastic speed, accelerating. The weight in my body is proof for that image that I am going faster and faster, and the world is pushing by me so fast I can feel its coldness press against me, waking me up.

What I find is that it is so much harder for me to get up and out of an empty bathtub that has recently been full than it is to get out of one that was empty all along. This is my deep statement that takes me to a million different places. The weight of the world upon re-entry. It's heavy, and worth feeling from time to time.

Halfway through the dark

I'm not rightly positive what I am trying to accomplish with this daily blog. My initial idea was to slightly mock the Chicken Soup books and entertain some people with my humor. I don't seem to be infusing quite as much humor into this as I thought I might. However, the winter kind of has that effect on me. I think it's the Oregon sadness. With the dearth of sunlight and abundance of cold weather, I can really see why certain animals hibernate. I've been doing quite a bit of that myself.

This is different from a journal. I'm not really writing to myself or some other imaginary or future person, but to the cloud. I guess I'm writing for myself instead of to myself. I had no real plan when I sat down for this post and am happy at the discoveries made. I had a much better plan of attack with notes I wrote last night in bed on a torn out daily calendar page. Consider those scrapped for now. I want to incorporate comics into this blog as well, much like Chicken Soup.

I am opening myself back up to life and the world (and this blog thing). I watched the Doctor Who Christmas special this year, their version of A Christmas Carol (it was fantastic, by the way). In it a character references that about this time of year on every planet, all of the people stop what they are doing and celebrate the light in the dark, a sort of congratulations for being halfway through the dark. On this planet we saw the shortest day of the year a couple weeks ago, so we are definitely officially halfway through the dark. I like this idea, this crystal feast. I feel very halfway through the dark. I still feel the darkness and the cold, but something important changes inside when one is half of the way through with something. It's like I had previously hit the wall but now I'm back up and know that as long as I keep going I will be fine. More so than a few feet or days prior, depending on the system of measurement.

Happy over halfway. It's a kind of edge for the middle of things, and all the interesting things happen at the edges.