Meeting celebrities

I grew up in New York, and when you're from the city, you inevitably see famous people. Most New Yorkers I know, do not bother famous people. One time, I rode the subway with Sara Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick. The three of us shorties were hanging onto the same pole. No one spared them a second glance. We were all, like, 'hey, those guys' and then we went about our business. I don't mind seeing celebrities, but I won't go up to them.

I'm a big fan of the TV show, Supernatural. This weekend, I went to a convention where the stars of the show appeared and signed autographs. I had mixed feelings about meeting them. Well, I met them, and everything went fine; they were perfectly lovely people. But for the last few weeks, I've been thinking about why meeting them got me so twisted up.

Here's the thing. I'm a pretty cool gal. I'm smart and funny and I like to think I'm a force to be reckoned with. When I meet a celebrity, it's a completely one-sided thing. I went to the con to tell these folks how much I admire them, but meanwhile, they didn't have any idea that I'm pretty awesome too. I know all about them, but they know nothing about me. For some reason, I think that sucks out loud.

For about ten seconds, I toyed with the idea of making up a t-shirt that said something like, "I'm not just a fan of Supernatural; I'm a college professor, musicologist, writer..." etc. 

I wanted them to know I wasn't just some giggling obsessed fangirl. I'm a real person, and I'm just as worthy to be met as they are.

Is that weird?

Anyway, all the folks who came to the con were absolutely wonderful. Very gracious, charming, and genuine, and I'd love to meet them all again. But next time, I want it to be because they want to meet me. 

;-)

~Hero

Save the Vocative Comma!!

The vocative comma is a very important thing. I'm not saying I'm always perfect about using them. The folks that beta read my stories can attest to that. However, I know where they're supposed to go, and I know I've been missing them in the ad campaign for Judd Apatow's upcoming film, Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

What's that, now? You don't know about the vocative comma? Let me explain with a little grammar lesson (although I'm sure many of my readers know a helluva lot about grammar). Each word in a sentence has a function. The function of a word is referred to as its case. You learn about cases when you study a language like Latin or German. In those languages (called "inflected") and others, the ending of a word changes based on its case. We have that a little in English (who vs. whom, for example), but in English, word order creates context and meaning. In inflected languages, word order is less important. The words with their different endings convey all the meaning you need. You can figure out a word's function just by looking at its ending (we called that "parsing"). Word endings for nouns can tell you number and gender, while verb endings convey person, number, tense, and voice.

Anyhoo, long story short, we have cases in English, we just never use that terminology to talk about them. The nominative case refers to the subject of a sentence, the accusative is the direct object, and so on. The vocative case refers to someone in the sentence who is being called or addressed ("vocative" comes from the Latin word "vocare" meaning "to call"). As in, "Hey, you!" In English, vocative commas help the reader understand who is being addressed. In the sentence, "Get me that wrench, John," I'm addressing John. Without the comma, the meaning of the sentence changes. "Get me that wrench John," is telling some unknown person or entity to acquire something called a "wrench John" whatever that is. (Perhaps it's a little bathroom for wrenches?)

So if I say, "Don't eat Mom!" I must be addressing some cannibal who's about to cook up my Mom for dinner. But if I say, "Don't eat, Mom!" then I'm telling her not to chow down on the food. Maybe because it's not cooked properly or something.

Everyone good on the grammar? Okay, good. Let's get to my rant.

The ad campaign for the movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall features a series of seemingly handwritten billboards. One says, "YOU SUCK SARAH MARSHALL." What could this billboard mean?

1) It could be a message FROM Sarah Marshall, telling someone else that they suck. As in:

You suck!

--Sarah Marshall

But that doesn't seem likely because we don't have the punctuation to back it up.

2) Someone could be telling Sarah Marshall that she sucks:

You suck, Sarah Marshall!

But there is no vocative comma, so it can't mean that, can it?

3) Someone could be making an observation about someone else actually sucking Sarah Marshall. Maybe 'Sarah Marshal' is a new variety of frozen treat akin to the popsicle:

You suck Sarah Marshall.

Perhaps the billboard should include an accompanying sentence to clarify:

You suck Sarah Marshall; isn't she delicious?

Or not.

Obviously the ad wizards meant the second one, but how the hell are we supposed to get that from what is written?

Vocative commas, people (<-- look there's one right there!). They're cheap and they convey meaning. Gah.

You can categorize this post as nerd wankage, and sure, that's exactly what it is, but don't you agree there should be someone who fights for the freaking commas??? Grrr.

/rant

Here's a funny anecdote I heard in Latin class. Apparently Sanskrit has something like fourteen cases (more than double that of Latin). It must have been grammatical chaos to ask for anything.  My Latin teacher in college told us that the worst insult one could hurl at a speaker of Sanskrit was to call him "an incompetent grammarian." Gee, you think?

If I met the marketing crew that put together the Sarah Marshall campaign, I'd call them incompetent grammarians, but I doubt they'd let it bother them too much. Jerks.

~Hero

The Pleasure and the Privilege

I have no time for pleasure reading lately. It's a tragedy because I have a stack of awesome books to read. I have a book by Asimov from Dad. Immortality from Kevin. Geek Love from Cael. And like a moron, I just bought Sideways and Little Children from Barnes and Noble dot com. I opened up Little Children just to see if the opening sentence was similar to the opening voiceover of the movie, and suddenly I'm 50 pages into it. Ye gods, it's good. Tom Perrotta is a genius. Sometimes I read books and I can't believe how good the prose is. Hell, I read the fiction of friends in my OWC and their prose freaking blows me away.

When I read books like Little Children  (Rick Moody's The Ice Storm or Nick Hornby's A Long Way Down), I think, I can do that. Know why? Because they make it look so easy. They make it look So. Damn. Easy. Now, I don't know if I can do it, or if I'm fooling myself, or what, but I suppose I'm gonna keep trying until the well of ideas runs dry.

Sometimes I wonder about my day job and how long I will spend being "Doc G" for my students. Maybe I'll be Doc G for the next few years and then I'll transition into writing full time. But who knows? I really do like being Doc G. A lot of my students are ridiculously wonderful people who enrich my life with their personalities, their music, and their own journey of self-discovery. I wonder what I will do if I ever decide to cut off that supply of fresh, new faces every semester just so I can have enough time to sit home alone and try like mad to craft that beautiful prose I admire so much.

But teaching would be really hard to give up. Sometimes, a student will finally understand a theoretical concept that had been giving him trouble, and you can practically see the light go on. Or a student will break through the fear that's been holding her back, and for the first time, she can sing without self-consciousness. And it may not the best singing in the world, but it's the most beautiful sound there is. That freedom.

Just being there for those moments, seeing those breakthroughs happen, it's what teaching is all about. 

And to be part of that, in ways big and small--maybe being the first person who told a student that mistakes are okay, or spending hours outside of class trying to figuring out a new way to clarify things--is not just a pleasure, it's a privilege. I mean, damn. It's a freaking honor to do those things, and to get to do those things every day. I'm not saying they happen every day, because they don't, but they happen enough to make it worthwhile, even from a purely selfish point of view.

So, yes, I want to be a writer. And, yes, I already am a writer. But I am also a teacher. I don't really know how to reconcile those things right this minute, but the point is I don't have to. I've lived my life riding the waves of this big fantastic river, paddling at some times and just going with the flow at others, so I'm pretty sure that eventually, I'll find the way I'm supposed to go. For right now, I think I'll let the river carry me for a while, and I'll do my best to enjoy the ride.

And if going with the flow right now means nudging students to find their voice by day, and trying to craft seemingly effortless prose by night, then so be it. So be it.

~Hero

Random fun on two legs

It has been a rough week-and-some since last I wrote. Deadlines tried to kill me, but I managed to survive. I had to write some emergency notes for one of my jobs over the last week. I cranked out the first set in a day, and it was fine. Then, on Sunday, I wrote nearly 400 words of fine information in about an hour. The notes were a little generic, but it got the job done. We missed the printing deadline anyway, so I now have the very great honor of making it less generic. Did I mention the piece I'm writing about isn't done yet? Yeah. That makes it easier.

I also handed in an almost-final draft of a paper about the score to Back to the Future. Even though I knew about this deadline since January, I hadn't had any time to work on it. So I wrote solidly from Tuesday until Friday night. Got about 5500 words done. I've heard nothing back from the editor, but I think that the paper is not a travesty, at least. I know, ringing endorsement. That's what the Nobel committee says when they're choosing a winner of the Lit Prize every year. "Well, this book should win because it's not a travesty." *sigh*

In other news, John Williams is coming to my school for a special concert. Yep. That Johnny Williams. The guy whose score to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom pretty much sealed my fate as a musician forever? The guy who spoke at my graduation from USC, signed my Harry Potter CD, and congratulated ME on my doctorate? The guy who was so gracious and kind and humble that meeting him actually made me collapse from overwhelm-ing-ness? That guy. He's coming to LACC as a guest. We're doing a Q&A with him, and then putting on a concert of his works and the works of some of our young composers here. In the concert, the chamber choir is singing "Double Trouble" from Prisoner of Azkaban, and I AM SINGING WITH THEM! Isn't it weird how life works? Years ago, I never thought I'd even meet the guy, but now I'm seeing him for the THIRD time (and introducing the Q&A), singing FOR him (Harry Freaking Potter, no less), and then having dinner with the guy afterwards. I suppose that means there's still some chance for other dreams I have.

In that last paragraph, I totally meant to complain about all the extra work the JW concert thing is causing us, but I got carried away. Suffice it to say, it's a lot of extra work, but it's going to be so worth it if it all works out.

So yeah, my dreams. There was a time back in the day when I really wanted to be an actor. Back before I realized I'd never play a leading lady. Back before I realized that I was destined to be the wacky neighbor for all eternity. Funny then, to make it all the way to Hollywood years later, but to come here as a damn musicologist and all around nerdlinger. I still think that somewhere down the line, I might go back to acting in some form or another. I'd be happy as the wacky neighbor now, I think. But here's the thing, I don't want to do the Hollywood actor thing. I want people I know to put me in their films. I don't want to go through the pain and suffering of auditioning. To paraphrase the older guy in an action movie: "I'm getting too old for that shit."

Maybe I'll take a step in that direction by taking those voice over lessons I've been putting off for years. If money and time are in abundance this summer, it'll happen We shall see. Right now, I feel pretty confident that dreams do come true, and if that's the case, I'm just going to keep wanting things.

~Hero

Writer's...Something

I got an email on Thursday (I think) from the my contact, Kelly, over at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. They need some notes lickety split, and she wanted to know if I could do them. I'm a tad swamped, but I don't usually say no to work, so I said sure. I need to write notes for two pieces. One of them is a five-minute work that was inspired by 9/11. Thanks to the interwebs, I had a chance to hear the piece, and I got some information and even some good quotes from the composer. The notes should be somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 words. Sounds simple, right? Sure. I should be able to do this standing on my head, but for some reason, I just can't get my brain to spit out the words in the right order. I wouldn't call it writer's block, but hell, if I could think of a clever name for what I'm dealing with right now, I'd probably be able to dash these notes off in a second. *sigh* *needs sleep*

Last night, J and I went out to dinner with some friends, one of whom we haven't seen in months. She lives in London, and was in town to give a paper at a conference. Anyhoo, after dinner, a few of us walked down to Starbucks and hung out. We were there for three hours, and in that time, I saw a number of folks sitting at tables, typing away on their laptops. Even though I was having an awesome time with my friends, I have to admit that I was a bit envious of these folks. Right now, a few hours typing in Starbucks (and not typing program notes or proposals or articles) sounds better than a beach vacation. Spring Break is coming up, and I keep telling myself just to hang on a bit until then, and then I'll take myself to Starbucks, fire up the new laptop and just type away until they run out of Tazo Refresh tea. Sounds better than Daytona or Cancun at this point.

Also, the revision of my novel is coming along slowly; I did some good work on it this week during a few stolen moments. (Thank you, Google Docs for being so awesome.) I was all ready to send two chapters to my sister, but I was reading the new stuff over and I realized I'd given the brother knowledge of something he's not supposed to know about yet. So now I have to go back and figure out whether I want him to know this thing at the beginning of chapter 9 (and if so, I have to work in the heart-breaking conversation in chapter 8 somewhere), or I have to delete that part of the new stuff and figure out if his motivation stays the same or if it has to change. *facepalm*

All right, I should get back to writing my notes. In conclusion, I will end with a list of things that are currently making me happy (in no particular order):

1. My fiancee
2. Oreo Cakesters (sugar=crack)
3. Torchwood
4. On Demand (so I can watch Torchwood)
5. yellow legal pads
6. Google Docs (if I weren't already engaged, I'd marry it)
7. wearing a thermal shirt under a t-shirt
8. beer
9. my godson
10. text messages