(no subject)
Feb. 5th, 2006 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tabular_rasaI had a weird dream last night that was very Giver/1984/Brave New World-esque. It involved people being locked into cells of two people only-- so that we wouldn't lose our human interact skills, or something-- so that we only know ourselves and the other person existed. Yet everyone else would cheat the system, climbing through the vents to other compartments and such. It was very interesting, actually; I slept until 11:15, which is a record for me.
Which brings me to a weird/interesting though: In school, I always tended to do uncharaceristically bad on projects that involved personifying abstract concepts into physical worlds, and dealing with real impossibilities/unfathomabilities. Examples: creating a utopia in 7th grade, and creating a Hell in 12th grade. Now, everyone knows a utopia cannot really exist; I knew this, and, hence, I couldn't up an idea for the life of me. I think I ended up taking an aspect of human need and working it in or something-- like my town was very, very structured, so much so that no one could possibly think otherwise to complain (which is scarily totalitarian and Orwelian!). However, it turned out we were supposed to be shallow (which is just really, really sad, considering we had just read The Giver, which is anything but shallow): Candytown, Sportsland-- places where certain items conductive to happiness (for some people, at least-- imagine me in Sportsland!) were in great abundance and perhaps even required. So, hence, I faired very poorly on that assignment; not only did the teacher hate my non-creative idea-- and accompanying lack of illustrations (how do you illustrate a schedule? I just made the schedules, honestly . . . )-- everyone in the class thought I was really stupid and/or really, really weird. Then, with the Hell project-- which is more clear in my mind, and everyone else who witnessed/participated (Liz ^_^)-- Liz and I were on the same page; we didn't really believe Hell was distinct separate circles, and, so, we couldn't just make rings that had a dance-theme and put people who suck at break-dancing in the second circle. I understand that's what the assignment was, a silly opportunity to be "creative," but, well, to become shallow on something so not shallow for the sake of an assignment just seems petty and sort of, well, compromising of morals or something. Sure-- it's not like every kid who didn't believe in Hell or pictured it differently in our class did that, and maybe it's just a sign of my existential insecurity that I couldn't, but, well-- I didn't want to do that. Plus, in this case, Liz and I thought very hard about this. We thought so hard that it compromised the "prettiness" of our Hell, and apparently a good front to mask shallowness is all it takes in this world; it's worth more than thought.
That's a pretty good line, actually.
Anyway, I think I take life pretty damn seriously when it comes to things like that-- at least when I want to. There are times when I just don't feel like being irreverant and shallow, even if it doesn't "really" matter. So then I come off like this uber-serious bitch who can't take a joke (which is really quite funny, if you think about it-- but, then again, I can be quite fickle about what I think is funny one minute as compared to the rest) and is all self-righteous about my own depth to the interpretation of the assignment, or something.
Here's betting I get several comments from other people in the English class that did well about how I should get over this.
. . . and here's betting now that they read that they won't say anything.
Which brings me to a weird/interesting though: In school, I always tended to do uncharaceristically bad on projects that involved personifying abstract concepts into physical worlds, and dealing with real impossibilities/unfathomabilities. Examples: creating a utopia in 7th grade, and creating a Hell in 12th grade. Now, everyone knows a utopia cannot really exist; I knew this, and, hence, I couldn't up an idea for the life of me. I think I ended up taking an aspect of human need and working it in or something-- like my town was very, very structured, so much so that no one could possibly think otherwise to complain (which is scarily totalitarian and Orwelian!). However, it turned out we were supposed to be shallow (which is just really, really sad, considering we had just read The Giver, which is anything but shallow): Candytown, Sportsland-- places where certain items conductive to happiness (for some people, at least-- imagine me in Sportsland!) were in great abundance and perhaps even required. So, hence, I faired very poorly on that assignment; not only did the teacher hate my non-creative idea-- and accompanying lack of illustrations (how do you illustrate a schedule? I just made the schedules, honestly . . . )-- everyone in the class thought I was really stupid and/or really, really weird. Then, with the Hell project-- which is more clear in my mind, and everyone else who witnessed/participated (Liz ^_^)-- Liz and I were on the same page; we didn't really believe Hell was distinct separate circles, and, so, we couldn't just make rings that had a dance-theme and put people who suck at break-dancing in the second circle. I understand that's what the assignment was, a silly opportunity to be "creative," but, well, to become shallow on something so not shallow for the sake of an assignment just seems petty and sort of, well, compromising of morals or something. Sure-- it's not like every kid who didn't believe in Hell or pictured it differently in our class did that, and maybe it's just a sign of my existential insecurity that I couldn't, but, well-- I didn't want to do that. Plus, in this case, Liz and I thought very hard about this. We thought so hard that it compromised the "prettiness" of our Hell, and apparently a good front to mask shallowness is all it takes in this world; it's worth more than thought.
That's a pretty good line, actually.
Anyway, I think I take life pretty damn seriously when it comes to things like that-- at least when I want to. There are times when I just don't feel like being irreverant and shallow, even if it doesn't "really" matter. So then I come off like this uber-serious bitch who can't take a joke (which is really quite funny, if you think about it-- but, then again, I can be quite fickle about what I think is funny one minute as compared to the rest) and is all self-righteous about my own depth to the interpretation of the assignment, or something.
Here's betting I get several comments from other people in the English class that did well about how I should get over this.
. . . and here's betting now that they read that they won't say anything.
