Save Our Bluths (Well, too late.)

So I'm not sure if anyone will actually end up reading this post, if any do, whether they have ever seen the show Arrested Development, but if there's anyone out there who hasn't seen this amazing specimen of a TV show, I highly recommend you stop reading this and get your butt onto Hulu.

My best friend introduced me to the Fox series that began in 2003 and lasted (unjustifiably) only three seasons. The comedy follows a formerly wealthy family whose patriarch is arrested because of "creative accounting" practices. His dysfunctional family, including the central and most sane character, Michael Bluth (Jason Bateman), is left to deal with a scandal-ridden company, as well as the day-to-day antics brought about by the various ridiculous members of the family. It is told as a sort of documentary, complete with a narrator (Ron Howard) and accompanied by flashbacks and photographic evidence.

Perhaps the reason I like this show so much is its type of humor. The writers created brilliant single lines, dialogues, characters, and visual jokes in humor characterized by wittiness and, at times, ludicrousness. Characters include Lucille--the overbearing alcoholic mother to Michael, Lindsay--the self-absorbed sister of Michael, Tobias Funke--Lindsay's husband of questionable sexuality due to his oblivious use of double entendres, Gob (pronounced Jobe)--Michael's older, Segway-driving, overconfident magician brother, and Buster--Michael's socially inept younger brother with a slight Oedipal complex toward Lucille. George Michael is Michael's obedient and straight-laced son with a crush on his cousin, Maeby Funke, who is Tobias and Lindsay's rebellious, witty daughter.

With a cast of characters like that, it is no wonder the series developed a cult-following. Also responsible is the number of hilariously quotable lines including: Tobias's "I'm afraid I just blue myself," in reference to his desire to be a part of the Blue Man Group; George Sr.'s head-tilted "Pop-pop gets a treat?"; and Buster's greeting, "Heyyy brotherrr." Other memorable scenes include ill-informed chicken impressions, allusions to other TV shows and movies, Gob's magic shows amped up by his use of the song "The Final Countdown," and the one-armed man George Sr. always uses to teach his kids a lesson. Throw in recurring lines such as "Her?" in reference to an unapproved girlfriend, "I've made a huge mistake," about Gob's sexual conquests, and 15-year-old Maeby's "Marry me!" to throw off co-workers at the studio executive job she conned her way into.

It is a huge shame that a hilarious show like this got canceled so early, but fans have a movie set to be released in 2011 to look forward to. There is so much more to the show that I haven't discussed, but I guarantee that if you pick any episode at random and watch it, you will laugh out loud. Going through the entire episode catalogue is even more enjoyable, as jokes are often carried through into several later episodes, and foreshadowing is used to predict a number of important events. Visual gags provide even more humor, and since I haven't even begun to fully cover the hilarious scope of the show, I never get tired of rewatching episodes. Watch the dysfunctional Bluths on Arrested Development. You will not regret it.

Empire State of Mind

Yes, I'm writing a second post about my trip to New York. No, this one will not be as selfish as my last one. Yes, I've finally thought of a topic that connects to College Writing.

So as I previously stated, the last post, the travel diary (novel?) about my trip to New York was a pretty selfish use of my blog space, and I don't really expect anyone to want to read it. It was basically a product of my need to relive an awesome weekend. Anyway, blog time.

We all know that New York is a huge and hugely populated place. We are given images of the traffic jams, rushing crowds, long lines, and impatient noises that characterize a place as busy as New York. With this in mind, I found that all these images of the city proved accurate. There are so many people, seemingly all in one place, that it was easy to get caught up in it all. At first I felt self-conscious being around so many people, especially those who were obviously native or longtime New Yorkers. However, I soon realized that there was no need to be so self-conscious. These people didn't care who I was or where I came from as long as I wasn't being stupid or obnoxious.

With this epiphany came a sense of power. I could watch everyone without being worried about being watched myself--at least, by people I cared about being watched by. I felt like the guard in the watchtower of Bentham's Panopticon, with, of course, one major difference: the lack of any actual control. Yes, I could observe everything without being watched myself. But I couldn't influence the people around me simply by watching. These people had one goal: to get on with their daily life. They didn't care--or even notice--that I was watching them. Why would they?

Though the idea of the panopticon could be applied to society at large, that is no longer the case. Of course, there are people such as police or government officials that keep crime in check, but the laws of society as it existed in Bentham's--and even Foucault's time--do not apply now nearly as much. People are much less concerned with what other people think. An individual can be made to feel ashamed or embarrassed for their behavior, but once mixed in with a huge group, there is no longer anything like the controlling power the presence of other people had. It isn't surprising anymore when a person disregards politeness for their own agenda. By the third day in New York, I didn't even look back to apologize or be apologized to after bumping into someone; such actions get lost in the greater scheme of day-to-day life.

So while panopticons still exist in obvious ways, those which control social settings have more or less disappeared. Foucault compared panopticons to the royal court, but today we are much more democratic with the power that the average person has; that scale is generally not tipped in a single direction.

New York, New York

So, the weekend before last I went on a short trip to New York City with two of my good friends. It was my first time ever in the city, so I'm just gonna go on a small, rambling travel-diary-esque post here.

First of all, I expected not to like New York. Being from the west coast, I'd heard from many friends or neighbors that they didn't like the vibe, that it was intimidating with unfriendly people. Conversely, I've heard plenty of disparaging remarks about Los Angeles from native east-coasters. So I just figured that if you were from Los Angeles, you hated New York, and if you were from New York, you hated Los Angeles.

I was wrong to assume this. When I arrived in the Big Apple (okay, no one really calls it that, right?), I was intimidated, but mostly because of the nine blocks I immediately had to walk alone to my hotel. I guess in this way, I was sort of thrust into New York; I couldn't rely on a parent or adult to lead the way. When I think back on it, I was probably slightly insane to plan my first all-by-my-lonesome traveling in a city as crazy as New York. But once I got on that Peter Pan bus--with, might I add, uncomfortable seats and advertised free Wifi that was virtually non-existent--there was no going back.

Upon my arrival to the hotel, my friends and I went straight to the tourist capital of New York, Times Square, desperately in need of sustenance. We ultimately decided on Ruby Tuesdays--so much for having an authentic New York experience--where I feasted on the most delicious Macaroni and Cheese ever created. (Seriously, go to Ruby Tuesdays and get it. It will blow your mind.) We promptly retired to our hotel, exhausted, where we watched Die Another Day (probably the worst James Bond movie ever; I mean how did that writing ever get approved?) and crashed, excited for the next day's shenanigans.

Saturday morning, or should I say afternoon, since by the time we got up it was 12:00, was a long, productive, and exhausting day. We started out from our Lower East Side hotel, heading South to Greenwich Village to visit the Strand bookstore (famous as Dan's employer in the Gossip Girl books, anyone? Yeah.); from which I came away with a sweet tote bag boasting the logo so hipsters everywhere will be impressed with me. And speaking of hipsters, the Village is pretty much hipster-central. A mecca for hipsters, if you will. I couldn't even begin to count the number of ironic mustaches, thick-framed, retro eyeglasses (most of which were probably prescription-less), and Keds worn by men. And don't even get me started on the Urban Outfitters we visited there.

Next, we walked uptown to see 30 Rockerfeller Center, setting of one of my favorite TV shows, the appropriately named "30 Rock". We took pictures under the facade and then proceeded to do impressions of Tracy Jordan and Liz Lemon on my friend's Flip Video recorder. We made our way toward Serendipity to experience their famous frozen hot chocolate, but alas, there was a two hour wait. So we headed a couple blocks over to Dylan's Candy Bar to satisfy our cravings for sugar-filled goodness. Two (technically more like 4) scoops of Peanut Butter Oreo ice cream later, we went to fulfill the obligatory Central Park visit. It was really very nice to be surrounded by beautiful ponds and trees while seeing the concrete jungle rise up just beyond the tree line. It was made even more enjoyable by the group of hipsters playing an intense game of Ninja next to a pond. After walking around for a couple hours, we had dinner at a 60s-style diner that had a singing waitstaff and headed back downtown. One of the funniest moments of the day came during our walk home: as we were passing a man he asked, "Hey, what happened?" We were justifiably confused and inquired as to what he meant. He replied, in a breezy, matter-of-fact (and strangely, not creepy) tone, "Well, there's gotta be some reason God sent three angels down here!" We walked between 15 and 20 miles that day, and our feet were not pleased, but after that source of comic relief, a much-needed shower, and a marathon of "The Nanny," we were once again excited for the next day.

Sunday morning, we awoke slightly earlier, as we had a short day to cram in as much of New York as possible. We headed toward Times Square and bought tickets for a showing of the musical "Mary Poppins," which was even more adorable and fun than expected, complete with a tap-dancing chimney sweep on a harness, tapping upside-down on the ceiling of the theater. Seriously amazing. We then decided to walk to Grand Central Station to see its magnificence and ended up running into a friend from home who goes to Sarah Lawrence. It was so extremely serendipitous, a perfect New York City moment. We had lunch at a deli near Central Park, where I had delicious matzoh ball soup served by a waiter in a tux with a bowtie, even though the place was super casual. Finally, we walked to 5th avenue, mainly to have a Breakfast at Tiffany's moment and see the famous New York location of Tiffany & Co.  And at last, nearly dead on our feet, we hailed a cab to take us to the station where a bus would pick us up and tear us away from the glory of New York City.

All in all, this California girl ended up falling in love with New York. I think there is room in my heart for more than one huge city, and I hope to return to the city that never sleeps (no one calls it that either) many times.

Some Quotes about Writing by Some Famous People (And Some People I've Never Heard Of)

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.  ~Anaïs Nin


Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.  ~E.L. Doctorow


I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all.  ~Richard Wright,American Hunger, 1977


If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.  ~Toni Morrison


It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by.  How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment?  For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone.  That is where the writer scores over his fellows:  he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.  ~Vita Sackville-West


Substitute "damn" every time you're inclined to write "very;" your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.  ~Mark Twain


Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.  ~William Wordsworth


Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.  ~Anton Chekhov


To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music the words make.  ~Truman Capote, McCall's, November 1967


Do not put statements in the negative form.
And don't start sentences with a conjunction.
If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a
great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.
Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do.
Unqualified superlatives are the worst of all.
De-accession euphemisms.
If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.
Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.
Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.
~William Safire, "Great Rules of Writing"


Be obscure clearly.  ~E.B. White


Every writer I know has trouble writing.  ~Joseph Heller


A perfectly healthy sentence, it is true, is extremely rare.  For the most part we miss the hue and fragrance of the thought; as if we could be satisfied with the dews of the morning or evening without their colors, or the heavens without their azure.  ~Henry David Thoreau


An author in his book must be like God in the universe, present everywhere and visible nowhere.  ~Gustave Flaubert


Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness.  One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.  ~George Orwell, "Why I Write," 1947


Every author in some way portrays himself in his works, even if it be against his will.  ~Goethe

English and Architecture

I am an English major thinking about pursuing a minor in Architectural History, and today I thought about the fact that these are two very different subjects.  So why am I so interested in both of them? This is my attempt to reconcile my love for both English and Architecture...

For one thing, there are many similar aspects of abstract ideas represented in both subjects. Both utilize the ability to create and study.
In English, you can be a writer or an analyzer or both. As a writer, you create. You build a story around your own ideas, even when writing non-fiction. Writing gives the opportunity to give way to a new piece that other people can enjoy, critique, or analyze. On the other hand, someone constantly studying writing--say, an editor or publisher--interprets works of literature in the way he or she chooses based upon the ideas drawn from said works. The two complement each other: the writer takes basic ideas and life-lessons and creates a story around them while the analyzer draws out the ideas after studying a work. And of course, one can do both; the easiest way is by writing about writing.
Architecture is similar in that it contains the creator and the historian. An architect creates something new from their own vision. Perhaps their are elements of already existing buildings or natural forms, but they must think of something novel that serves a particular function. An architectural historian studies architecture built by someone else. He or she examines elements such as style, materials, symbolism, aesthetic, and purpose to find and explain the meaning behind building and other man-made structures.

Another way I've reconciled the my two primary interests is through metaphor. It's probably cheesy and cliche, but it actually makes sense. You can see architecture in writing. In order to write well, one must have a strong foundation, in more than one sense. First, one must have some knowledge of how to write. Without any education, it is most likely impossible to write cohesively and interestingly. Secondly, each specific piece of writing must have the basic intent clear before any stylization can occur. Next, one must have a knowledge of structure. Knowing how to order and form a piece of writing is essential to its quality. Finally, after the foundation and basic structure, embellishment can occur. It is up to the writer to determine the kind of decoration he or  she wants to give to the piece. One may choose to dress it up formally, making sure the tone is convincing and balanced. Another person will keep the paper stark and simple, telling only what the reader needs to know, much like the form-follows-function style of architecture. Another person might be more playful, adding unexpected elements to add some offbeat surprise to the piece.

The final way in which I can understand my love for both English and Architecture is the sense of permanence both contain. Though I was informed by my American Architecture professor today that the lifespan of today's buildings is about 25 years, there is something about creating a space that people use everyday in their lives that evokes some sort of transcendence. Of course, there are also the buildings we think of that have lasted thousands of years--the Egyptian pyramids, Greek and Roman temples, and Stonehenge, for example. Writing can also cement someone in history, and whether Foucault likes it or not, we all know the names Charles Dickens, William Shakespeare, and J.K. Rowling. As someone who has never particularly wanted to lead or have too much power, I think English and Architecture offer a different way to make a distinct, individual mark on the world.

Fin.

chance.

Obviously I'm having some trouble keeping this blog up. As I do with papers, and work in general, I decided to put my iTunes on shuffle and wait for inspiration to strike. I like to think that a song will come up randomly, and a line from it will start to make me think. But as the first song came to an end and the next started, I hit "Next," therefore keeping the random chance of it all from even happening.

I'm not sure why I skipped the next song. I guess it was a mixture of things: I had just listened to the song earlier, I wanted a different genre, I wanted a more "artsy" or "indie" song to be the song that inspired me. But reflecting on this moment now, I realize that I kept the uncertainty-which was the purpose of the Shuffle function-at bay. I orchestrated what I had intended to be random. And then I realized that I do this a lot. I imagine situations in my mind; I picture what I would do or say in a given situation, and I control other people and things as well. I'm sure other people do this too, fantasizing about something interesting or lucky or rare happening to them. But by incorporating the sense of randomness into the situations I imagine, I ironically take the sense of chance out of it. Because if the thing I imagine were ever to happen, I'd already have thought about it; perhaps I'd even made it happen.

On the other side of this topic, anything that happens that actually is random is just "something that happened." I don't think that if a certain type of car passes me, it's a chance occurrence. In my mind, it doesn't register as a random act. It's just, "Oh that car passed me."

So it seems to me that I have a very backwards idea of chance. Chance isn't the things that, in the moment, we think of as "so random!" Chance is the things we don't think of and random. Or, more accurately, the things we don't think of at all. Or maybe it's both, but we just forget about the latter.

I don't know if this even makes sense. But hey, it's 2:30 AM, so what are the chances of anything making sense at this time?

Writer. Writer?

Am I a writer?

I can't decide. Sometimes I feel like writing is what I am meant to do. Other times, I'm overwhelmed by expectations. Expectations from myself and expectations from others. I criticize my own writing so that I don't have to hear it from other people. This is why peer- and mob-editing scares the crap out of me.

But the thing I love about writing is the ability to create. I can't draw a beautiful picture, make a chemical solution, or invent a new mechanical device. However, I can write a darn good interpretation of a book I love; I am even halfway decent at creative writing. 

With writing, there is not only the freedom to create, but also the freedom to choose the way to create. There are so many media and outlets, giving the opportunity to newspaper articles, poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and a myriad others. 

There is a sense of purpose in writing. A writer releases his or her ideas and thoughts to the public. He or she must be confident enough in the work to be willing to let the world judge it. I don't know if I'm okay with that.

I still don't know if I am a writer.