Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Ideas?

I took for granted that creativity would always be a part of my life. No matter how academic, any class I took throughout college had some element of creativity. Even if it was simply stringing together a well crafted sentence for a conference paper.

But turning out endless emails begging strangers to volunteer on a farm tends to stifle creativity. Phone calls aren’t any better. You can’t even edit them. Coming home after work isn’t much better either. I feel burned out daily. Unwilling to create something new with my personal time.

So I’ve been falling back onto the work of others.

I’ve spent a great deal of time listlessly browsing through illustrations by Kay Nielson. I’ve pored over Arthur Rackham. Submerged myself in Ian Miller. I’ve even (much to Mim’s chagrin, I’m sure) re-familiarized myself with Michael Park’s lithograph worlds.

These are images that not too long ago inspired my animations. The characters are already alive; it was only too easy to peal them from their pages and nudge them into movement.

What I wouldn’t give to animate something right now.

Animation projects absorb everything. They’re a black hole of focus. Troubles fall away (unless they’re camera- or software-related). If you’re bleeding from a poorly wielded razor, just make sure you don’t get blood on your puppets. Whether you’ve eaten in the last three days becomes a minor thing. A thing which concerns your friends more than it does you.

Yes. Animation.

But, true to my earliest answer to the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I still love writing above all else. (And yet I’ve never considered grad school for writing. How odd.)

This is evidenced, amongst other things, in my almost obsessive jealousy of Cornelia Funke.

I love the work of Kay Nielson, and I could stare at Ian Miller for hours. But I froth at the mouth when it comes to Inkheart.

I gave myself a rule years ago that, were there ever a movie-and-book pairing, I would start with whichever came first. Meaning I went out and got the Guardians of Ga’Hool when I saw the advertisement for the movie. (Not that great a read, but cute enough that I went for the second as well. Still haven’t seen the movie.)

But when Inkheart came out as a film, I never knew it had been taken from a book. I saw the film and truly loved it. The world is magnificently crafted. The characters are vivid. Old words fit together as if that’s where they were always meant to be. That’s how they were always meant to be used. Silvertongue. Dustfinger.

When I discovered that this had originated as a book, I went out immediately to buy and read it. And I was so disappointed.

The words I could feel as the framework for this film didn’t fit together as they should have as I read. Sentences were clumsy and stumbling. The images had less life than their ideas demanded. It was flat. Certainly this couldn’t be the home of such wonderful ideas!

And then I discovered that it was a translation.

Sorry, whoever translated Inkheart. My only option is to believe that you suck at what you do.

Of course, I don’t speak German, so I can’t confirm this, but I stand firm in my conviction that Cornelia Funke’s words must read like poetry in their original language. My heart would simply break if it weren’t true.

Above all else, whether or not her words are poetry, whether or not the images lie still instead of jumping alive with every turn of the page, I envy Cornelia Funke of Dustfinger.

Dustfinger is a character that comes along once in a lifetime. He’s a hideous anti-hero (slightly less hideous in the film due to being played by the gorgeous Paul Bettany) that readers are desperate to love. But he won’t let you. He’s despicable and made of cowardice and weakness. He’s so human that you want to avert your eyes so as not to see his shame. He’s fascinating.

Cornelia Funke didn’t back down when she was writing this character. He’s a fire juggler and magician. An entertainer. The very idea is so easy to love. And instead she contorts him and tortures him into something horrendous. And we love him and despise him because of it.

I’m sure part of my opinion of Dustfinger is crafted through Paul Bettany’s portrayal. Paul Bettany makes me think that a self-flagellating albino crafted by the likes of Dan Brown is pretty nifty. Paul Bettany can do anything. But it’s the grittier elements of Dustfinger’s character—the fire-juggling-distraction on Eleanore’s lawn or taking shelter in Basta’s compulsively clean home—that connect me most to this character. Elements that were left out of the movie.

I spend my time thinking one thought.

Why didn’t I create him?

I will probably spend the rest of my life trying to create a character I love as much as I love Dustfinger. That’s probably a bad way to think about it—if that were the case, I’d just end up creating half-shadows of him, empty shells of characters—but it’s that untouchable quality to the idea that created him which I will perpetually seek.

And so a new element of my life in Tennessee has begun. It doesn’t matter if I’m tired when I get home. Because creativity’s something I need back in my life. No more staring at Kay Nielson. No more wishing Dustfinger had been mine.

It’s time to write.

Pyrex

“I hope you have the pans you need so you don’t have to run out and buy cookware!”

This is a sentence that found its way into an email to me from my mother. My mother, who lives the conundrum of being an excellent cook but despising all kitchen-related activities. Little does my mother know that for this penny-pinching AmeriCorps member, cookware is one of those things I have very little hesitation in buying. Cooking genes seem to skip a generation, because where my mother hates cooking, my grandmother, sister and I can’t really get enough of it.

Every week I budget a certain amount for food and drink. Like anyone, sometimes I go a little over, sometimes a little under, but it’s a good guideline to curtailing my shopping and impulse-buying instincts. But when I go under, there’s always an aisle of the grocery store I head to for a little something extra.

The baking goods aisle.

I’ve made several purchases in this aisle that can’t exactly be written off as absolute necessity. Food coloring. A rolling pin. Others are a little more utilitarian—a pie plate (savory pies; bake once, eat all week!), a Pyrex pan. But in the end, I tend to be more pleased with these purchases than any others I make because they’re investments. Things I will be using for years to come. (Okay, maybe not the food coloring….)

The most recent purchase that I’ve made is the Pyrex pan. A nine by thirteen to be exact. Against all odds, I’ve decided to attend an AmeriCorps brinner-themed pot luck. Being social and sharing food in one go? Who would have thought? But go I will, and for my breakfast-dinner contribution, I’m making a sweet Kugel my family eats for breakfast on holidays.

So what is inspiring this sudden drive for the homebody to leave her house and share food? It seems I’ve discovered (with the persistent presence of a few people down here) that I really enjoy the company of many of the AmeriCorps members, and that while sitting inside watching Pushing Daisies is all well and good, going out getting to know people is even more enjoyable.

In fact, I was even planning on going out to a pub with several AmeriCorps members this evening until I discovered how much longer it took to cook this Kugel than I thought it would. Oh well. There’s always next week.

So, I haven’t updated for the past few weeks. Life’s been busy. But that’s mostly because I’ve been spending large amounts of time with friends here. Having new experiences, gaining massive amounts of sleep debt, and having a general ball.

Too much has happened in the past few weeks to even try covering them all.

I’ve gone camping.

And loved it.

I went on the Cupcake Saga parts II and III.

And loved it.

I attended Boomsday (a fireworks display on Labor Day).

And…had fun…(never been that big on fireworks.)

I went apple picking.

And loved it.

I’ve hung out with some awesome people.

And loved it.

I even went to the Tennessee Valley Fair, which included rodeo, petting zoo, unsafe rides and ghetto circus, but forgot my camera, so I can’t really show you that one. (Safe to say, I loved it.)

Not everything’s perfect, obviously. “Volunteer coordinator” seems to translate in AmeriCorps language to scullery maid and furniture mover, not to mention overall office secretary and organizer. I’m still not allowed to go outside and work on the farm in my job (the part of the job description which caused me to take the position in the first place). And as long as we still don’t have enough office computers for everyone who needs them, one of my favorite people from the office will be working at home on his computer, depriving me of his fantastic company.

But work is only 40 hours a week. There are evenings to be had, weekends to be taken advantage of, and lunch times to spend outdoors with great people. I live right next to a library and work in the same building as another. I’ve even bought a new bike (with the help of one of those wonderfully persistent people who convinced me that I still like the company of others) which helps me get around faster, more enjoyably, and spend less time commuting. Meaning more time for fun.

But my Kugel seems to be done. My oven has room-temperature and doom-temperature as a friend put it, so it’s inevitably burned. But it smells good enough, and it’s reminded me that I haven’t yet had dinner. (This is a constant problem. I spend a lot of time on fun-cooking and forget to sustenance-cook.) Hopefully it’ll go over well tomorrow at the pot luck. But it’s late, so for tonight, I think I’ll go with the simple PBJ.

So much for spiffy cooking equipment. A table knife and plate are all I really need.