I try and do something different by submitting a story drawing from my experience as a Viet person for my creative writing class and while the prof highly praised my story because it wasn’t about some white ass or otherwise not racially identified people, there are still some assumptions being made about the culture of my non-white characters (my culture).
“What does it mean in Vietnamese culture to “kiss” someone?” the professor asks me. “How is the girl in the village perceived by the people who live in the village since her relationship with her Viet-American boyfriend is widely public?”
First off, “kissing” means “kissing.” It’s not a euphemism for sex. Also, not every place in Vietnam is a village. There are cities and civilizations in Southeast Asian countries that are modern and not just primitive peoples living in huts with dirt floors. Another thing, gender relations in Non-western/third world countries aren’t extremely oppressive as Westerners may think. As if all western nations are very liberal and not restrictive with gender roles and expectations. Why should it be assumed that just because a woman is seen in public with another man, that, of course, she has to be perceived as a whore by the “backwards society” around her.
I mean, I am not trying to say that women aren’t oppressed in Vietnam or that there aren’t people living in rural areas who do live in huts with dirt floors, but it’s frustrating to know that when I write about Vietnamese people, the people in my class, who are mostly white and are all from North America, have to assume that it is a far away land where superior Western culture has not yet reached.
Seriously, who gives a take home exam and designates it “closed book.” Don’t kid yourself. Is it sad I am still clueless on this exam though? It’s totally due tomorrow.
Also, this summer, my school is offering a Lord of the Rings and a serial killer class. The LOTR one is five days a week, which sucks and I may have to read some of the books as well, but it would be a cool class to take. The serial killer one is 4 days a week and we get to watch super cool movies in it. Summer classes always suck, but at least they might be a little interesting.
Something I wrote for class as a characterization exercise. We had to convey four traits (in one character) within a scene without mentioning them explicitly. I’ll list them at the end so you can guess what I was going for.
L.A. Confidential is an awful fucking book. No one can do it like Chandler.
characterization assignment,four qualities conveyed in one scene:
I’ve got the perverse down. Charming is taking more thought.
oops. dropped my russian lit class because i can’t handle the greats.
"I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities I have visited."
— Jorge Luis Borges (via philphys)
(Source: serialstranger, via mudwerks)
Professors who use their own writing as textbooks. Ugh.
one comes in with the sweat of the palms soaking into a lover’s breasts.
some taste in the mouth turns sour with acidic remarks
judging, perceived to be mad
like the fringe of the brain too large to disintegrate
and one will suckle on tea leaves wilted before mass, sprinkled delicately in the garden of good and evil,
taurine beads perspired through the lips.
how to run across rivers without consent from the sea; this must never be known.
the film board tells one, again and again, to not think of release,
just adjusted filtration.
so the waters run clear, but infested with pleasure
filled to the brim with inconclusive movements of the eye.
circulating through ink jars of abandoned homes
and now in the well, how does one gasp?
when found in the well, there’s not a second chance.
So I guess it’s “Dead Week,” you know, the week when all professors are supposed to let everyone relax and not be to have any assignments since finals are next week. But lo and behold, I’m up to my eyes in shit I have to do and I have to work two days this weekend. I dunno where I’ll find the time for the amount of work I have to do, short of wishing a day suddenly turns into 36 hours instead of 24.
I’ve got 25+ pages to write between now and next Wednesday and then two finals right in a row on the absolute last day of the semester. And also, I have to draw one comic strip.
If I survive, I think someone should bake me a fucking cake filled with candy.
Euginides’s new book is everything relevant to me this semester, i.e. Victorian lit, semiotics, feminism, being 22 and in college.
It’s nice to read a book in which I get the majority of the references. And it’s nice to read a book for pleasure again.
The world’s full of extroverts and I don’t care.