You are currently browsing the Crucial Minutiae weblog archives for March, 2008.
Last night, a young woman plunked down in front of the computer to do her taxes. She had been preparing for days, entering the easy bits into the online Turbo Tax program. Tonight, she vowed, “I will focus and file.” And focus she did, until 3 head-banging hours later, one small freelance writing gig could not find its proper place. It had confused both her and the tax program, leaving her at an impassable ledge. With no one to turn to and no way to fix it, she morphed into a gorilla. Frustration took full force. Her face went red; she muffled a scream, a real scream; her stomach clenched; she made a mean phone call to some family members; she cursed at the very existence of numbers; she hated everything; she was in a full-force overreacting mode.
After the rage, she slumped in her chair like a wet rag. Everything in her brain had sizzled to a halt. Everything in her body had collapsed. Was blood still circulating? Was she still alive or had she been taken out by the process? After some pouting, she chose, in a moment of clarity, to do the only thing she could do to reorient herself. Read more…
I ran over a mile yesterday without stopping to catch my breath. This is the first time I’ve done such a thing since I was in 6th grade (with the humble time of 12 minutes and 40-something seconds) and the only time I’ve done such a thing without someone making me. Obviously I’m not one of those people who finds running as natural as sleeping. But once I decided to give it another shot, I was floored by the ease I found in it yesterday. My only explanation: good music, good shoes, flat surface, and a meditative pace.
I keep thinking, as my quads remind me of what occurred, how amazing it is that one moment we think we can’t do something and soon after, it’s already accomplished. The very act of writing surprises me in this way. One day I think that there can’t possibly be a need for another scene in Act 2 and the next day I’m writing it. It doesn’t exist, seems impossible. And then it’s not only probable, it’s happened.
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Kimmi
Therapy Thursdays
PS. I know. I use the word “interesting” way too much. I’ll try to keep it in check for next time.
“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”
~Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Monday was my last day in the studio with Liz Clark. Before going into the studio with Liz, I attended the SXSW Film conference, which also featured some joint panels with the Interactive conference.
Although I enjoyed and learned from both fields, I was blown away by the contagious energy of all the Interactive panelists and audiences I encountered. Leaders like Tim Shey, Zadi Diaz, Arin Crumley and Susan Buice and more inspired me with their enthusiasm for new forms of storytelling that go far beyond the old-school model of movie-making.
I’m reading an amazing little book by one of my new favorite authors, Parker Palmer. It’s called Let Your Life Speak and in it he explores how one truly finds a vocation, a calling, a purpose in life. He writes:
Some journeys are direct, and some are circuitous; some are heroic, and some are fearful and muddled. But every journey, honestly undertaken, stands a chance of taking us toward the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.
He traces his own “deep gladness” back to childhood when he used to write little booklets about aviation. At the time he interpreted it as a sign that he should become a pilot, when really it was his first incarnation of becoming an author.
Two childhood memories popped into my head… Read more…
When you have a new book out, you do everything that is humanly possible to get the word out. One idea I had was to send out copies of CHEER! to all the famous former cheerleaders out there. The biggest dilemma for me was whether to send one to George W. Bush, the man I hold responsible for, well, we don’t even have enough space for me to get into it. In the end, I decided to send a copy to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Who knows? Maybe it would land in George’s hands and he’d be photographed reading it on one of his many vacations to Crawford. So imagine my surprise when I got this in the mail today.
Special Sunday edition of Beauty in a Wicked World, with an exquisitely You-Tube-Bad Still Shot
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Beauty in a Wicked World is a weekly column by Jennifer Gandin Le. It appears on Wednesdays.
So New York state has its first Black governor, David Paterson.
The fourth black governor ever in the history of these glorious United States. The third since Reconstruction
And you know what?
He’s had numerous affairs.
And you know why?
Because he and his wife were having problems.
Good Friday in the Christian tradition is a somber day- Jesus has been crucified. Right now in Latin America, all Roman Catholics are off from work. Many Catholics around the world are fasting. Others are gearing up for jellybeans. It is a holy day. It also happens to be the morning after the first day of spring (i.e. the vernal equinox). It’s a strange overlap-these two days falling within 24 hours of each other. Usually spring comes first and then Easter follows a couple warmer weeks later. Yesterday as I waited for a street light to change, a man with a brown dog grunted at me “It’s just so strange, cold-ass weather and Easter coming so soon.” So, I am reminded that things don’t always line up with our expectations. And somehow, in a stretch, this connects to inappropriate men on the subway.
“We’re all going to leave here with one arm like this…” The actor put his right hand high up in the air and pinched his thumb to his fingers as if the heavy puppet we had given him was still on his arm. “And our legs like this…” He hopped side to side, dancing a three-step.
Last night was the second rehearsal of my new play, Little Bosnia, commissioned and produced by Avalon Theatre Company in St. Louis. The night was reserved entirely for work with dance and puppets. (Yes, I’ve pawned off the dirty work of dealing with war and religion to three helpless puppets– who are quite funny, I should add.) But back to the Bosnian dance, which is featured in one or two moments in the play. Cast members proved that many Bosnian Americans still know how to perform this traditional dance, no matter how much time they spend in modern clubs. Either it’s in their DNA or they’ve learned it at weddings, dragged onto the dance floor by their mother or friend. At the slightest invitation, I tore off my playwright cap and joined the circle. 1-2-3 and 1-2-3 and it was completely exhilarating. When the faster than lightening kolo music stopped, I realized a great shortfall in America. We have no traditional dance.
Happy first day of the NCAA, everyone! My bracket is filled out and ready to go. Anyone want to start a pool? Don’t worry. I’ll lose. I always do, because I go for wishful thinking rather than pragmatism in choosing my winners. In other words, I’ve picked the same team to win every year since I was a little kid.
But let’s shift focus a little—this column is called “All Cheer, All the Time,” after all. Two years ago, in the week before the NCAA tournament, a Southern Illinois cheerleader named Kristi Yamaoka fell off the top of a human pyramid. The basketball game was put on hold for several minutes while medics ran to the court floor, wrapped her in a full-body brace, and lifted her onto a stretcher. As they wheeled her off the court floor, the band began to play the school’s fight song. Kristi’s arm shot up, her fingers wiggling—she performed her school’s fight song while being rolled toward an ambulance. This image was replayed on the nightly news for weeks and it got many people thinking, “Is cheerleading dangerous?”
One of the most memorable experiences of my graduate school education was watching a video of a classroom in Japan. I was in Introduction to Education Policy, and we were discussing the issue of class size. The Gates Foundation had just grabbed headlines for its cause du jour–SMALL SCHOOLS!–by throwing money at large comprehensive high schools to encourage them to break themselves up into pieces.
It was 2004. And unlike their attitudes towards cars and bling, the American people seemed convinced that smaller is better as far as the classroom is concerned.
I recently had the travel day (literally 24 hours long) from hell and it got me thinking a lot about rule breaking. As soon as our flight was delayed, I was crushed. We were trying to get to Lansing, Michigan. I figured it would never work, given the time frame and the smallness of the city. I collapsed in my uncomfortable lobby chair and felt sorry for myself.
But my travel partner became this powerhouse of maneuvering past all boundaries, “no’s”, red velvet ropes, security lines etc. She learned about the FAA, asked the Delta staff their names, made them smile even while she was telling them that their policies were horse shit. She was totally optimistic that we would still get to Lansing that very night (despite all signs point to no). (See after the break for what really happened.)
So what makes some of us feel like giving up and following the rules and others of us search for creative solutions and butter up the man with his finger on the button? Is it personality? Upbringing? Class? Do the rule breakers really get farther, faster? Did we get to Lansing that night?
Read more…
Perhaps you are a young man, strong in build, in love with your country, your faith and your community. This week and last you walk alongside monks who gather in protest. You link arms with your friends. You are fighting for something bigger than yourself. Your mother, at home, might be worrying about you, out on those streets. You on the other hand are vying for a future. Somewhere in India, the Dalai Lama says that he cannot stop your protesting, that it is time for the mother country to uncurl its talons. Your effort will get some international media attention. Maybe people in a distant land will care that you are suppressed. You are one of the many in this world. Now that your oppressor country will host the 2008 summer Olympics, the world might pay attention. Now that the north side of Mount Everest will be barred and shut to mountaineers this season, the world is watching.
Just have to share from this amazing conference (the whole Crucial Minutiae crew needs to come here next year)…I just sat in an amazing keynote by the investigative journalists, Anne Hall and Dana Priest, who broke the Walter Reed story for the Washington Post. They talked about hanging out in vet bars, creating bonds with overmedicated, underappreciated men and women coming back from Iraq, sneaking into Building 18–the most notorious of the falling-apart buildings housing our injured vets.
I was so moved–not just because these smart, dedicated journalists spent months getting an important story, and changed the world in the process, but because they are women who wouldn’t have been given access to this “beat” or these stories in an earlier America. They weren’t relegated to “women’s issues” or the Style section. They were writing about war. They were doing hard-nosed investigative journalism. And they did a damn good job.
I have had an amazing past few days. Anyone reading this site knows that my first book Fat Envelope Frenzy just came out (as did Kate’s terrific book, CHEER!). It’s been an incredible roller coaster.
I got a nice review in the Wall Street Journal today, and I was utterly shocked. Several weeks ago, I experienced what I can only assume is a common sensation among writers on the verge of debuting their first books–complete and utter panic. I had been walking around with bitten nails and a consistent, mild stomach ache for about a month. And then, one day, my anxiety welled up into a near panic attack.
I was waiting for the subway when I read the headline that started it all–From winner of apt. to N.Y.’s ‘most hated’ man–in the Metro.
Once introduced, he walked onto the stage in the dark. He sat down in the dark. He spoke into the microphone in the dark, with that familiar croon from This American Life. And he said that if he had it his way, he would continue the evening just so– in the dark. This, after all, is radio.
To weave other voices into his storytelling, Ira Glass manipulated audio clips on a CD deck to his right and music tracks on a separate deck to his left. He underscored his monologue to exciting effect, left us with music to contemplate for several seconds, and then raised his hand high in the air before– a quick tap of a button — and in came another voice. It was the NPR equivalent of an Imogen Heap concert, except that when Immi creates her songscape with buttons and microphones, it’s so uber precise that you wonder if she’s truly human. You don’t wonder that about Ira. You wonder how he understands humans so well.
I am so pumped to announce that CHEER! is now in bookstores. Go pick up a copy at your local bookseller, or click here for online purchasing options.
For those of you unfamiliar with the book, I know what you are thinking. A book about cheerleading? Sounds kind of bubblegum. But modern cheerleading is much more like an extreme sport that most people realize. CHEER! is like a Friday Night Lights about cheerleaders, or like a darker, more sociological Bring It On. Click here to see me talking about the book on Good Morning America on Tuesday.
Thank you so much to everyone who has already bought a copy—you are keeping CHEER! in the top 1000 on Amazon. And for anyone who can make it, I am doing the first ever reading of the book tonight, at the Borders at Columbus Circle at 7pm (head inside the Shops at the Time Warner Center, upstairs to the second floor).
I visited Book People in Austin yesterday and found Kate and Joie’s new books, CHEER! and Fat Envelope Frenzy. (To read more about them or buy them, click on the titles on the right!)
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Beauty in a Wicked World is a weekly column by Jennifer Gandin Le. It appears on Wednesdays, when our site hosting service isn’t misbehaving.
