07 March 2005

title: it ends up being about brecht

ye few who read my blog, don't worry. i haven't forsaken ye. i'm back, and better than ever... if we take 'better' to mean 'having thoughts less coherent,' and 'having nothing specific to say,' and 'but feeling like i ought to write here again so that i don't totally abandon what started as a nice thought.'

of course, as you might suspect from my definitions of better, i don't really have anything to say.

[this is where i stare at the blinking cursor.]

[this is where i prepare to write a review of spamalot, but find myself not really having anything i feel like saying. (yes, i saw spamalot. yes, this makes me special. james' mom's friend took us. she is my amazing Patron Saint of Tickets I Could Never Afford. god bless this woman. everyone's first question after hearing i've seen spamalot has been 'how did you get tickets?' so that's how.) it was funny. i laughed a lot. james and the rest of the audience laughed more. it was really fun, but i had a weird reaction to the second act. weird as in i got more turned off by some off-trackness of the show that i should have. i suppose that sort of was a review. well then.]

[this is where i work for a while, work that includes calling my boss at home, as he works from home on mondays. 'works from home.' god that's a misnomer. i mean sure, he works, he does lots of stuff when he's working from home. but i also cover a lot of his shit here. i had a dream last night that he was scolding me for misfiling some of his papers, misalphabetizing them. i don't like the constant feeling of disappointment from him, the fact that when i really try hard to be better at the parts of this job that i hate/am bad at, he doesn't notice, but when one thing slips, as things do, he does notice, and scolds, or worse, is Disappointed. i am not cut out for this stuff.]

[this is where i feel depressed about my job, about how the borrowed artsearch account has expired, about how i'm going to be here for at least a few months more, and how i really don't like that.]

[this is where i'm mildly amused at myself for using brackets to get around my self-imposed rule for keeping this a thoughtful rather than here's-what's-up-in-my-life sort of blog. and this is also where i wonder if the brackets and lowercasing aren't rendering this unreadable, though, admittedly, i've wondered that before. and probably, if i'm worried about being unreadable, i should think about the rambling before anything else.]

for the, like, two of you who might be lurking out there and not know lance, or his livejournal, he has some very interesting things to say about personal growth and revisiting things etc, etc. (he also has a very rambly sample conversation as an example/explication of his theories, and you know me... or not... but i like rambly. i also like lance. hi lance.) he makes me wonder if i should revisit catcher in the rye. (i hear james, whom i don't think reads this, saying, 'no.') (should that 'whom' have been 'who?')

in an eerie parallel of lance's revisiting of catcher in the rye, and his getting it, and his realization that this speaks to his personal growth since his last reading of it, i've been rereading brecht. yes, by choice. or actually reading him for the first time - this weekend i got to the point in my book where my first-time-through underlinings, from dramaturgy first semester junior year, run out. but even though i read and underlined up to this point, i totally didn't get it then.

when i decided to retackle brecht, it came from a sense of ought-to, but in the good way - if i want to be doing what i think i want to be doing, i need to actually know brecht. (please don't ask me to reread aristotle's poetics. i don't care how much i've grown, i am not going back to that.) also, when i went back to brecht, i knew that i was coming back to it with a better (different) academic mind, more able to handle it, and to add to the reading-it-in-a-better-place-to-read-it-well, i was reading it because it was something i needed to learn, rather than something oskar had told me to read. because even when you're reading for oskar, you are reading for a class. (it also has the aspect of escapism from my current work-world, pointing to that day, somewhere off in the distance, when reading - and understanding! - brecht would be something i could draw on and use. hot damn.)

(i am mixing tenses sinfully. i'm sorry. i also was and will be.)

what i didn't realize, what i didn't anticipate, was how reopening that book would bring me face-to-face with my two-years-ago self, the self who read partway into that book, and struggling with the dense theory and dense translation, tried to underline her way to understanding. well, what she actually did was underline what seemed particularly interesting, lines and ideas, and also pencil in her fair share of 'hm's (and one 'bad analogy!') in the margins. the thing is, i didn't remember underlining any of that. i didn't remember being struck by what apparently struck me, stumped by what stumped me. i remember brecht being dense, boring, and boring. is it totally scary that reading now, i'm actually enjoying myself? like, he's not rollicking, and i don't agree with - or get - everything, but he's readable. understandable. it's not that i was dumb back then, but seeing what i was underlining at the beginning of that year, versus what i'm focusing on now... it's just a very different me.

aww. that was way sappier than i meant to get. um... hey! look over there while i run away!

there. much better.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Catcher in the rye?

I agree with James.