Oh. Hello.

Blog. Spot.

I.. uh. I need to tell you something. Well, the class I took requiring a blog-- over. The attention sustained in keeping the blog-- diverted. I. um. I want to introduce you to someone.

I... Um....

http://ashleyjholder.tumblr.com/

Jobful

Oh, the job:

Early Intervention Program Teacher. Barrow Elementary. Athens, Georgia. Grades: 4, 3(?), others(?).

Halftime.

Half trailer.

Training this week.

In answer

Everything comes from something.

Nothing comes from nothing.

Just like paper comes from trees,

And glass comes from sand,

An answer comes from a question.

All you have to do is ask.

--Carmen Agra Deedy, Agatha's Featherbed

Grow Up into a Story

They looked grave, with their official jackets and professional frowns, and they delivered the message. "You have a terminal degree."

Ka

b________o________o________m

Always Rolling

Catch your dreams before they slip away.
...
Lose your dreams
and you will lose your mind.
--The Rolling Stones, "Ruby Tuesday"

Help finding.

I saw a Lost Cat poster.
Would you ever say this about a grandparent?

Very Loved, Older,

Heavy.

Blocked

Awesome game:

Blokus.

That's right; I'll play you!




If it was called Creating Stained Glass, then maybe I would be more peaceful about it. Currently the game creates in me a very competitive monster bent on blocking others and taking over the entire board. But, yeah, we should play.

___

Sure, that's been fun, but mostly many aspects of my life feel as though they are on the verge of completely falling apart. It will be fine. It will.

Uh. Coffee time now.

We could create a separate course that targets science as it really works: hypothesizing a solution to a problem, gathering evidence to test the hypothesis, changing your mind if the evidence warrants it. The basics of the scientific method work for almost any inquiry throughout life; imagine the benefits if it were mandatory for us to understand it. -- Dave Wilson * Haverhill, Massachusetts * From a letter in Wired Magazine

Trouble

I had the hardest time renaming my blog.

Ridiculous, because I don't even like that I write in a blog, but I enjoyed the practice of it last semester with my Creativity Strategies class. It was time for "Blocks: Obstacles or Toys?" to be put to rest. I liked the discipline, how I was forced to keep up with myself.

I don't seem to be able to sustain much these days (Hence, current title). I thought about naming the new blog Bouts of Solitude, but that sounded too... pretentious. Or it just gave the wrong impression. Then, I toyed with titles such as "Bouts but Brilliant" and "Bouts and Trounce". But I'm neither self-gratifying nor am I Tigger.





Actual post:::

Reflecting on time in Charlottesville lately. Not dangerous, just misfocused. I need to think of ways to make Athens a home.

AthFest: Last Wydelles show. I felt I was let in on a secret: The song that sounded the most fun was a bittersweet goodbye to a dear, dear friend.

The city seemed to buzz this weekend. A couple of years ago, I would have found hope and solace in this, excited to be surrounded by thousands of kindred spirits searching for music and art and enjoyment. I think I'm losing it. Or that. That sweetnappreciation feeling. I feel like the city was buzzing with alcohol and heat, and I was glad to see the couple of bands I saw. I had no interest in hanging around in it. I got to see several people I know, enjoy, and appreciate. But as a whole, AthFest, maybe Athens itself, feels gross to me. When did this happen??

It's almost like I need to look at the city a little bit at a time instead of seeing it all at once. Like I need to be in my room reading a book and then go to a café to sip coffee and work. But then I forget the social.

The city keeps surprising me. "I feel like going exploring," I'll think and picture streams and trees. Then, the city as I know it chuckles and turns its head to do elsewise.

'If you don't turn your life into a story, you just become a part of someone else's story.' 'And what if your story doesn't work?' 'You keep changing it until you find one that does.' --Terry Pratchett

Rapt Up

A semester finished. A book fairly completed. I just want to go back and edit some of the text and probably add more details to the drawings. All-in-all, though, I have come a long way from the start of the semester. I thought I'd come into the class, work on some bits of writing, and then leave with a few more pages written than when I started.

It turned out to be that I have a lot of pages written, a lot more planned, and a wealth of knowledge about the process of creating and the perspectives of many prominent researchers.

In the beginning, there was a student who enjoyed writing and did so... sometimes, if my journal was nearby. Now, though, I know how to begin with a blank document and transform it into a lot of different products, to be comfortable with possibilities as well as the editing process, and to explore thoughts productively.

The writing ritual I have established works for me, because it doesn't require me to sit down at a certain time or in a certain position. But it enables me, when I would like to write, draw, or communicate, to begin work and continue on that work without getting as easily distracted by everything/anything else.

Now, I am wrapped and written up. I wonder what my next creative skill will be....

No Vacancy

At the end of December, 2006, I started a new journal. I was nervous, because I put pressure on myself to write worthwhile entries. However, I knew my comfort level would increased. It did. But I kept writing and then would just stop for a while. I felt I had nothing to say at some points, which is dangerous for me. There is a huge issue of losing my voice for me. I want to express my thoughts. I still have this journal.

It's finished. It's full, and I am thrilled to be moving on to a new journal.

Write! Write. Write.

I wrote. I want to keep doing so!

There aren't any flat children, really. --David Foster Wallace

Some Drawings that I've Done

As you might remember, Ms. Swanson and Ryal, respectively.




There's so much detail to add. And so much perspective to learn about.

What do you think?? Can you tell she's the same person?

I mentioned I worked on another book last semester. For that one, I was afraid to change the characters-- their facial expressions and their stances stayed so rigid. For the most part, I copied and pasted and just changed the words and sometimes certain aspects about their features. I am practicing being okay with deleting to change and add more and work with emotions, angles, and zoom even. Seeing my progress and knowing there is so much more for me to learn is incredibly exciting. This is work that I could spend hours, and hours, and hours on-- completely lost to time and my surroundings.

The things that happen stay happened. --Terry Pratchett

A Little Bit Preachy, A Little Bit Rock and Roll

The practice of keeping up with the blog forces me to work. If I wasn't forced to reflect, I might find myself neglecting what should be reflected upon. Awful, I know!

The whole point in learning basics is so that you can master them and move onward. In order to be able to successfully flip, you must first be able to jump straight up or, for that matter, take a step. This works with self expression. How to do make a photograph your own? You add style, perspective, and personality. How do you come up with an original plot for a story? You purposefully contort outmoded plot lines, add twists, and play with convention.

This should be celebrated!

____-----_________________

Produce. Create. Reflect. Understand. Adjust. Stand up. Don't compromise.

Also, live out loud.

-----_____-----------------------

Isn't it strange that princes and kings,/And clowns that caper in sawdust rings,/ And common people like you and me/Are builders for eternity?/Each is given a bag of tools,/A shapeless mass, a book of rules;/And each must make - ere life is flown -/A stumbling block or a steppingstone. ---R.L. Sharpe, “A Bag of Tools”

Create or Miscreant?

Oh, balderdash. I, on the basis of refusing to call it "creative block," have hit an unforeseeable lack of motivation to continue on the path of moveination, motionevasion, mote-in-volation, or mote, eh, vase shun. I want to write and work on this story, but there are many, many distractions-- including my own propensity to sabotage the working stride. I get distracted or feel like I have "other" things to do then feel like I need to procrastinate doing those other things instead of Working. How I long to habitually hit a stride!

Oh, to dream. To dare to hope. To dream of.... Wow. If I was working on Ryal, perhaps I wouldn't have all these pent up words, you know?

Thoughts for progressing:
Take the main character, and plop him into another setting-- home life, in his own imagination, with friends.
Look at the secondary characters more closely.
What experiences would be good for the characters? What would be awful?

I have the wherewithal to challenge myself for my entire life. That's a great gift.--Twyla Tharp

I learned very early that an audience would relax and look at things differently if they felt they could laugh with you from time to time. There's an energy that comes through the release of tension that is laughter.-- Twyla Tharp

Drawn to Words

Writing the story about Ryal and his discoveries-- finished (for now). I began illustrating what I've written. I know I have a lot to work on. I keep learning more things about illustrating and drawing pictures on my computer.

I have a feeling that I'm nowhere near finished with the text, but I have gotten to a stopping point. I'll go back, edit, and figure out what needs to change. I am currently reading The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, which is a fantastic children's book. Most of the people I've talked to keep saying, "Oh, yeah! I've read that. Like in middle school, but I don't remember what it was about." I've reminded a bunch of them who have told me they want/need to reread it. I've really enjoyed it. It's reminded me of my love of words and perspectives and the importance of them. I think it'll inspire me to flip about my words a little bit with this book.

Two characters below. I drew them both freehand using a Wacom tablet, which is a really awesome tool. The tablet allows you to use a stylus as a pen, which controls the cursor, on the tablet, which acts as the canvas. When using a program such as Photoshop, it feels more intuitive and natural using the tablet to draw.

I would like to introduce you to Ryal:

And Ms. Swanson, whom Ryal insists on calling Ms. Swansong. She is Ryal's counselor:

I don't know if these characters will look the same when I'm finished with the book. For now, though, these are the characters that I have. I'm quite pleased. But also excited to see where we'll go.

"For always remember that while it is wrong to use too few [words], it is often far worse to use too many." --Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

Any Fish Tick On Verse Hey Shin

We want our artists to take the mundane materials of our lives, run it through their imaginations, and surprise us. If you are by nature a loner, a crusader, an outsider, a jester, a romantic, a melancholic, or any one of a dozen personalities, that quality will shine through in your work. ---Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

In this book, Twyla Tharp discusses the importance of establishing a ritual, or habit, in order to pursue a creative objective. What habits do I have established? I keep thinking of the possible rituals for me to follow, one day. I keep forgetting that I can start now. That I should start now. I don't feel like I have any habit or ritual established. I feel in a state of flux. You can't be persistent and fluxible at the same time. And I have not been persistent at anything.

Losing power for a day and a half enabled me to get (yes, cold, but also,) creative. I wrote by the power of three candles, because I had thoughts that I needed to look at. There are many reasons to write. Gaining a clearer picture of how I feel about certain topics is one. It keeps coming up in conversation, but it is more apparent that ineffective communication really and truly bothers me. I have a tick against it, and I am still learning and still have so much to learn about how to share thoughts and ideas, how to clash but still have effective conversation, and how to express myself. Don't we learn this in elementary school?? "I feel this way when you do this because of this reason." Why do I feel like we learn this valuable lesson, gradually forget it while learning others, then force ourselves to re-learn it when we're older? That seems rather inefficient, if you ask me.

Immerse yourself in the details of the work. Commit yourself to mastering every aspect. At the same time, step back to see if the work scans, if it's intelligible to an unwashed audience. Don't get so involved that you lose what you're trying to say. This was the yin and yang of my work life: Dive in. Step back. Dive in. Step back. --Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

Head Up in the Clouds

Scott McCloud wrote a graphic novel called Understanding Comics. In it he says,



Which is a lesson that I took personally. I recently thought about publishing something I wrote. I talked to a publishing company; I knew the price it would cost me to get it published, to have it advertised on the websites of stores such as Borders, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and even websites like Wal-Mart.com and Target.com. I asked the lady if I could get an opinion about the illustrations I included, and she mentioned that there is no way to know what will sell and what won't in terms of books or illustrations. She gave her personal opinion, but there is no way to know if people will listen.

Purpose of writing for me: At times, it is important to have an audience in mind. Sometimes, that audience is me. If there is something I want to express, then let's do that!! It's like the muffins that Natalie Goldberg makes for her store-- If she likes the flavor, and puts her all into making them, then chances are someone will notice that attention and might even be able to satisfy a craving.

Write! I need to. I was talking to my roommate who drew a sketch as a present. The sketch turned out so well, and she really enjoyed making it; too much time had passed since the last time she sat down and created art. I asked her if she has sketched anything since. She hasn't had time-- too much school, too much work, and too many emotions to sort through. I am afraid I do the same... When writing would be such good practice for me to sort my own thoughts, I cannot seem to find the focus or time to sit down and write. When I could be productive and enjoy myself through writing, I can't get motivated. Why do we do this to ourselves? What is all this resistance about that keeps us from breathing deeply and restoratively (yes, I made it up.)?

All media of communication are a by-product of our sad inability to communicate directly from mind to mind. Sad, of course, because nearly all problems in human history stem from that inability. Each medium (the term comes from the Latin word meaning middle) serves as a bridge between minds. -- Scott McCloud, Understanding Comics

Poemgranates Have Antioxidance

The ability to cultivate the feeling of accomplishment while writing stems from the creation of miniature successes. I want, so badly, to have this writing project finished, which is why I write short poems. I think I end them before they are finished. However, a work in progress is still progressing. So it is with Ryal. I read an article about cultivating solitude, hence the verbage at the beginning of this paragraph. I found myself doing this—finding peace while music was playing. I hit a stride in writing even with the distractions of people arriving at home, emails pouring in, cats being adorable together on the foot of my bed, and a phone that rang once.

About two weeks ago, I got stuck. I didn’t know where I should go with my story, so I let the story get cold for a little bit. When I got back to it, the solution struck—just switch activities. Maybe this is where a break comes in, which is why I got stuck. I kept trying to fight the break instead of leaving it and going to something else. I’ve gone on. And I even got to write a couple of other things in the letting Ryal get cold practice.

There is a source, a why, and always a fault.
There is a white lie at the end of a tunnel.
We can turn in, jut out, or share in the middle of a kitchen kiss-
ed by the sun.
You-- faultless, seamless, seen less oft than before I left.

There is a winter so long, a sigh, and a safe.
There is never a cry too soft to touch
Burst, mourn, so join. Go on.
Coffee sang outside- the birds- I felt.

There is space and air and are moments, just mine.
There's time like the present, but not much.
Turn a phrase, your face, to face me
Knee, I'm sure, versions of this.
We joke inside contexts and outside frames.

Under the podium, I thought, but there's just foundation.
Understand, you sought, and we built off that.
Easy rhymes and misprospelled statements.
Better just say within our means.


Yeah, okay, poetry is weird. Mine rarely makes sense at first, even to me. But sometimes it's like dreams, and I figure out what I mean and what I'm saying, then I make that a little clearer. Sometimes.

And this acted as the platform to writing about Ryal. I went back to his story for the first time in a very long time. And the whole time, I got to listen to music, which was glorious for me.

'Is there a word that means weighted down but not in a bad way?' he asked. 'I'm weighted down with musical ideas that keep me writing and recording and doing my job.'" --M. Ward in an article in the New York Times written by Melena Ryzik

In Others' Words

I love Merlin Mann. It's true. You should learn all you can about him. It would do you good. He talks about creativity, productivity, and ineffective ways to try to achieve both.

Anytime you take two things that you never knew were connected before and you find a connection... you're creative. Give yourself a chance to be really excited about it then work your ass off and you'll be really happy about it. --Merlin Mann

You could watch the whole video here. He is at Macworld, talking about how to be creative, productive, and efficient using Macintosh/Apple products, but it can be applied to the wider world of creation, which is what we talk about.

I've been learning about my own passions and enthusiasms and learning that the more I let my frustrations pile up, the more inefficient I become. My cleanliness tends to be a reflection of my psyche. I'm cleaning up my room in between paragraphs as we speak. FINALLY. Oh, it feels good. I will soon be able to write in my very own room. I'll be able to sleep in pajamas, maybe, instead whatever clothes I'm wearing when I finally crash into my bed at the end of the day. I will come into my room and breathe to relax, not just get out as quickly as I can.

It helps do that with writing, too. Sometimes, I let my words just pile up without saying anything. I just feel like laying a word there or flinging a sentence over there. But going back to edit, although time consuming and a bit frustrating at first, is cleansing and great. After cleaning up, I can look at what I've written and breathe a little bit easier because each word serves its own purpose.

Rewriting up in homes

More adventures in the world of writing! Being a part-time perfectionist, I understand that I have difficulty not automatically spitting out gold onto pages in writing. However, I am learning that warming up, stretching, and exercising my writing will give me more endurance and more understanding of my own writing.

I wrote just to get thoughts out then segued into writing about Ryal, the main character. I read a chapter in Natalie Goldberg's book, Writing Down the Bones, then found myself writing her suggestions as to what she could have done better with this particular chapter. This exercise allowed me to enter another perspective (that of a professional writer) and another voice. I enjoyed this exercise because of the final product as well as the process. I did not read the book thinking, I'll write this better. But reading the chapter, I was disappointed, because it did not meet my expectations.

The particular chapter, entitled "Fighting Tofu," talked about the futility in fighting with tofu because its "dense, bland, white. It is fruitless to wrestle with it; you get nowhere." She was talking about fighting oneself in striving to tap into motivation to write. Write, she says, and use some tricks on yourself when you need to. I thought about the title, and I needed more from this chapter. So I wrote the following:

Ugh. Disgusting. I do not like it with foxes or goats, or green or any other color. Why subject myself to culinary cruelty by putting tongue to tofu? Especially when I can just eat real food.

Tofu, by nature, is bland, a bit tasteless, and has a... let's say, unique texture, which does not necessarily appeal to those being introduced. "Tofu, meet disgruntled diner. Hesitant diner mm.... Man. Gone again. Where did he go this time?"

What I find applicable, intriguing, and delicious is that tofu has whatever flavor you put into it. It can be delectably blackened with spices, or it could be marinated in soy sauce to add an oriental tang. It could also taste of the disappointment and disgust, the expectations you have for it. That flavor has a way of ruining all your experiences. You could go into a meal fighting tofu (and you'll be proved correct) or you could choose to take the time to marinate or spice it up with a different technique.

Different Strokes

Different methods and different modes for different means and different moods. Okay. I’m finished speaking in jive. I, forcing myself to Write, found various ways in which my thoughts flowed.

Sunny mentioned in class that her best ideas came on the edge of sleeping, and a day or so before that class, me, too. Paragraphs of the main character, Ryal, talking to his counselor poured from pen to the piece of paper I keep by my bed. Currently, I have two versions of the same story—one written in prose and the other laid out in speech bubbles with the promise of illustrations to come. The prose captures a lot of subtleties in descriptions that will have to wait to be expressed with illustrations by the latter method.

I also tried different writing processes. One day, I scared my cousin nearly to death. (The doctors say she’ll eventually be all right.) I found the best writing spot on that day to be on top of the dryer in our laundry room—quiet, warm, and few distractions. I wrote for a few hours there and translated from prose to speech bubbles. Even when my cousin came home, I did not stop to greet her, so when I emerged after she had been home for a while, I was unexpected, and she jumped.

I also talked some ideas over with a friend, but found myself hesitant to talk about it. Currently in the story, Ryal is having difficulties expressing his thoughts and feelings. I guess I’m too empathetic—I was having trouble expressing what I thought and felt about Ryal’s story.

I could not write with music playing earlier today. I wanted to work with noise. I found myself looking around the Internet, looking at my to do list, and not working at all. But, hey, there was music. As a solution, I spoke to my computer and myself about what I wanted Ryal to do, look like, feel, and experience in the span of the story while having background noise (Okay, I was playing a video game.). I thought about how his peers, teachers, and family would treat him and react to him, how he would handle conflict, how he would relate to others, what he thought about school, and what he did when he was not in school. I candidly discussed options for him. Now that I have these “notes” recorded, I can go back and listen to them whenever I want. I came up with ideas I do not think I would have dealt with yet had I not used this method. I might not use any of the ideas, but I kept thinking. It was a great exercise.

[Blurg. I tried, for about 45 minutes to post a video of me talking about the book. It isn't working right now, but I'll figure it out.] [Aha!! It took me until the next day, but for your listening pleasure, a snippet of my rambling:]



One neat truth about writing cannot answer it all.... Some techniques are appropriate at some times and some for other times. Every moment is different. Different things work. --Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

Good Writtens

The first time I noticed my hesitancy toward writing was late 2005, and the first of 2006. I received a brand new journal—a Moleskine. I felt so much pressure to give this journal the sort of writing I felt it deserved. Fill it with language that flows and ebbs to its own melody and harmony, that speaks truth over great and grave populations, that treats humor as though it were a piece of wood to be whittled into whatever shape a writer, this writer, fancies. I thought wrong. But it happened again later that year. Someone asked me to write a poem to perform. I wanted to perform, but could not bring myself to write anything. I helped someone shape her poem. I wrote snippets and bits, but I could not form a complete thought. Maybe I have drawn too many parallels between my writing habits and my psyche. However, I feel as though I am a writer who does not write, and I wish to change this. Thank you for this assignment, giving me the opportunity to force me to use all the knowledge I have gathered about writing but refuse to use because I am afraid of my own perfectionism and not meeting my own standards. Screw standards. Because work is work. And bad writing, once it’s out of the way, has gotten out. And I’m that much closer to the good stuff.


This semester: Write. Deliberately. I have one children's story written about a gifted girl. By the end of the semester, I will not be able to say that. I'll have more books about more subjects, probably all concentrating on gifted children. Also, I'll read about writing and doing so creatively from various authors. I will pull in all the resources I am able.

"If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There's no way around these two things that I'm aware off, no shortcut."-- Stephen King, On Writing