People Say I Look Like A Turtle
I started reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower last night. So far, I’m preeetty sure it will be one of my favorite books. Or as Charlie would say, “It’s my favorite because it’s the last one I read.” I kinda love it. The book reminds me a lot of The Outsiders – main character is an emotional boy, dealing with growing up, etc. The Outsiders is also one of my favorites. Both have such great characters that I can really relate to. Yeah, it sounds cheezy, but there are so many times (in both) that I can really ~*identify with*~. I have not gone through anything like the crazy stuff that Ponyboy and Charlie have/did (i.e. running away from home with your potentially-a-fugitive best friend). But even then, and even being so much younger than both of those characters, there are some times where I can really feel what they feel or what they’re thinking. (I think that’s the sign of a really good author.) I’m usually known as the emotional one.. I know it sounds weird, especially being, like I said, younger than these characters (Charlie, in particular), but I almost feel like I know more than them. Not in a pretentious way (or at least not intentionally), but in more like an understanding way. Eh, I dunno. I’ll probably look back on that sentence in a couple years (or even a couple months.. weeks… tomorrow morning) and think I was being, well, pretentious – but at least I’m trying not to be. BLAH BLAH TEEN ANGST BLAH.
One of my favorite teachers, ever, told me once something that I [hope I] will never forget. It was something that I probably already knew, but just didn’t know exactly what it was yet. He said that my so-and-so (it was some French expression I can’t remember, but it means like “mode of operation”) [UPDATE: I think it was "modus operandi"] is “seek to understand.” I felt so enlightened after he told me this; it just really made sense. If you know how my brain works, which very few people do, you would know what I’m talking about. And that my brain is wired that way, to seek to understand.
(From some artists named Francisco Infante-Arana and Nonna Gorunova on BOOOOOOOM. Random? YES.)
At first, I must admit I was a teeeny bit scared (well, not really scared.. just aware) that the simplistic, letters-from-a-child style of writing would rub off on me. And, you know, it probably will (psshh, it already has). Whenever I’m reading a book or an author that I really like I usually find myself – whether it’s a subconscious thing or whatever – having a little bit of a new twist or adjustment in my own writing style. I think that’s fine, as long as you’re not emulating / mocking / being un-unique about it. It’s all part of “finding your voice,” I guess. Back in like, 4th grade when I was really into the Eragon and Eldest books, I wrote a lot like Christopher Paolini. I don’t know if you’ve read any of his stuff, but he’s got a kind of drawn-out, long-winded, very descriptive, vivid type of writing. That was really good for school assignments and making stories for class and whatnot, but I’m very happy with how I can write now as opposed to how I wrote then. I was just trying to be too child-professional (boy, don’t get me started on that).
Johnny Cash wrote a poem around the gist of this, I believe. It’s printed on the back of Bob Dylan’s Nashville Skyline vinyl-case-thing (sleeve?). It goes like this:
OF BOB DYLAN
There are those who do not imitate,
Who cannot imitate
But then there are those who emulate
At times, to expand further the light
Of an original glow. Knowing that to imitate the living
Is mockery
And to imitate the dead
Is robbery
There are those
Who are beings complete unto themselves
Whole, undaunted,– a source
As leaves of grass, of stars,
As mountains, alike, alike, alike,
Yet unalike
Each is complete and contained
And as each unalike star shines
Each ray of light is forever gone
To leave way for a new ray
And a new ray, as from a fountain
Complete unto itself, full, flowing.
So are some souls like stars
And their words, works and songs
Like strong, quick flashes of light
From a brilliant, erupting cone.
So where are your mountains
To match some men?
This man can rhyme the tick of time
The edge of pain, the what of sane
And comprehend the good in men, the bad in men
Can feel the hate of fight, the love of right
And the creep of blight at the speed of light
The pain of dawn, the gone of gone
The end of friend, the end of end
By math of trend
What grip to hold what he is told
How long to hold, how strong to hold
How much to hold of what is told.
And Know
The yield of rend; the break of bend
The scar of mend
I’m proud to say that I know it,
Here-in is a hell of a poet.
And lots of other things.
And lots of other things.
- Johnny Cash
Sorry, it’s kind of long. I couldn’t bring myself to shorten it down to just the first part (the relevant part), because I think that would be a little demeaning/disrespectful to Mr. Cash here and his poem. You can’t really edit poems, anyway. You just can’t. Anyway, the poem is about Bob Dylan, in case you couldn’t tell. There are some parts I don’t get right now, but I think the beginning is pretty interesting. I really like when he says “… to imitate the living is mockery, and to imitate the dead is robbery.” I never knew Johnny was such a poet.
Man, I hope this book isn’t rubbing off on me too much! Like I said, I think books and other people’s writing having an influence on you is a good thing, most of the time, unless you completely imitate that person. So I apologize, if Perks of Being a Wallflower is having a big influence on my writing right now and if it’s too apparent (or if I’m being too serious). I just love it that much *smiley face*.
Bah, there’s just so much to write and think about this book. Every time I pick it up I get a gush of inspiration (I’m sure you know the feeling), it’s just so beautiful *wipes tears, mocks poignance*. But really.. I think when I’m done, I’ll reread it with a pen and notepad nearby to take notes and whatever. Then again, I say that about a lot of stuff (Star Trek, other movies, other books…) and never end up doing it. Maybe this will be the first?
Of course, when I’m done writing for the night and finally go to sleep, all the ideas and great phrasing and perfect sentences come back. But I guess that’s just how it is. (I do, however, keep a journal on my nightstand.. usually I’m too asleep to jot anything down, but it can be useful sometimes.) To give you just an idea of how this book makes me feel, read this:
I read or hear or see something great sometimes and I want to pour my heart and soul into it. I want to become a part of it, for it to be a part of me. Almost like I want it to define me, even if it’s not like me. Kind of like the feeling of “what if.” Laying in bed at night, feeling alone, wondering if anybody out there hurts like you do, the “what if” feeling. Anxiety. You’re tired and your thoughts get so big – God knows you can’t control them (even if you try to) – it feels like they are you. In the morning, you know better, though. Those thoughts don’t make you! I talk to my dad a lot about that stuff. He likes to tell me about Buddhists and what they think about thoughts. Huh, that sounds funny. “What they think about thoughts.” Anyway, sometimes he says to just look at your thoughts as like a computer screen.. one thing pops up, and you watch it pass by on the screen, just observe. Goes to show the saying is right, I guess; it’s not what you think that matters, it’s your reaction to it. That’s the whole idea behind this Buddhist thing, I think. And it goes in to all those trees about letting emotion take control of you and branches of the little thoughts and worries that eventually drive you to tears and make you a little bit angry. But really you’re just tired. Who doesn’t get tired sometimes? You know, I would say “I don’t know” if I felt alone. Like I said, though, I know better now. And even though sometimes doubt gets the best of you – us – all it takes is a little bit of [confidence] to get past that. And you are never alone.
Off to L.A. soon, so I’ll see you guys later. Oh, and please, no spoilerz in the comments? (I’m only on about page 100 or something.) Thank you.
Love always,
Spencer
(now that was a [inside] joke)
