"Some loves are..."

“Some loves are short stories, not epic novels, but that doesn’t make them any less full of love.”

Surprisingly, this quote comes from the “Sex and the City” movie. I’ve never watched “Sex and the City” (the movie or the TV show), so when I read this, I thought a student within the English Building had a moment of creativity while answering a call from Mother Nature. Apparently not.

The real quote is: “Some love stories aren’t epic novels, some are short stories. But, that doesn’t make them any less filled with love” (imdb.com).

Could this quote be elaborated? I’d continue it by saying this: Some people may deny the presence of love, no matter how great or small. The ones that are unsuccessful are forced to be forgotten, while those that survive are boasted to be perfect. No love is perfect, and no love should be forgotten.

Oh, Carrie Bradshaw. Though I may not approve of your lifestyle, you seem to make a valid point. Love is love. You felt it at one point. Don’t deny that it didn’t exist. Because even when it’s over, you know what worked and what didn’t. Keep it in mind for those future loves, be it short stories or epic novels.

And must all loves and novels be epic? According to the Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary, epic can be defined as “extending beyond the usual or ordinary especially in size or scope.” Not all loves need to extend beyond the usual. Love just needs to be seen and to be appreciated. I suppose, the degree of epic would depend on the individual’s definition of ordinary, but I’m really hoping that girls aren’t sitting around in bathroom stalls dreaming of some huge parade of love falling in their laps—and hopefully not while they’re in the bathroom.

I think that today’s generation is too focused on finding love immediately. What happened to “Love is patient, love is kind. [. . .]” (1 Corinthians 13:4)? Looking for love and being discouraged about not finding it is just as bad as denying a love that didn’t last as long as was expected, I think. Take your time, ladies (with love and in the bathroom). There’s no need to rush. Love will happen when it is meant to happen.

New Directions

No, no. Not "New Directions" as in the Show Choir/Glee Club of (fictional) McKinley High School* in the hit TV series, "Glee," (which is amazing by the way), but new directions in the way of my blog.

Starting this week, I'm taking my literary distractions down a new path. I will still do the same book review, critique, suggestions route, which, obviously, needs some polishing up; and I need to actually read some books besides the ones that I'm reading for all my classes. I have decided that the form of "literature" I will be enjoying with my readers will branch to two other forms: musical literature (looking at musical theatre through lyrics) and that which can only be enjoyed while performing actions of personal matter (What?).

For now, I will let you all ponder upon the latter. In a few short days all shall be revealed.



*Upon further research, there actually is a McKinley High School in Ohio, which is where the story of "Glee" takes place. However, I do not think it's the same high school, just a high school.

"Wind"

[Deleted, but saved].

Poor blog post. It had no hope.

Oh, Happy Day

First thing is first. Yesterday was the greatest day ever. Why, you ask? Before I went off to work, I saw in my mailbox what I had been waiting for for over a week: three books written/ compiled/ edited by Joyce Carol Oates. I’m excited to read them and review them. Even though these books are at least seven years old, it will be quite the breath of fresh air I’ve been looking for.

As a third year Creative Writing and English student, it could be assumed that I would have plenty of time to read and write on the side. This, however, is not the case. It would be a luxury to be able to sit down and read something I’d like to read rather than reading an array of books, pamphlets, plays, stories, and excerpts assigned for survey courses of British and American literature, as specific topic courses.

Unfortunately, as this is my first post, I do not have anything substantial to say! However, this weekend or sometime this week, I’m going to review/critique “Wind” by Michael Czyzniejewski. Mike actually is a graduate of the same Rhetoric/Creative Writing program that I am currently enrolled in here at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. This story is in his book Elephants in Our Bedroom.

We had an Alumni Week in the English/Creative Writing Department here at UIUC and Mike Czyzniejewski and Matthew Gaven Frank were the guest alumni. I remember Mike gave three pieces of advice and words of wisdom. The first, if you’re a writer, you don’t give out people business cards, otherwise you’re not really a writer. Second, college is bad for your liver. Third, within the first paragraph, he tries to identify the subject, the problem, and the setting of the story.

With his story “Wind,” I hope to delve into his writing style. What he has done with this story, and if he has actually shown the subject, problem, and setting within the first paragraph, and seen how he has developed his story.

All I can provide you with, my dear readers, is the inscription he wrote within my book: “Dear Crap-for-brains, Thanks so much for being Juba when you could have been so many other things to me and everyone. We’ll always have EB131. –Mike”

If only I could explain the Juba reference and "crap-for-brains" right now. Maybe in a few weeks I can reveal its true meaning. Until then, fare thee well, dear readers.