#It reminds me of this poetry event I attended as a college student. It was pretty cool and even my prof at the time read a personal poem. 😊
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purplesimmer455 · 10 months ago
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Iseul crosses her arms and looks across the table at Megan in the common room’s dining area. “I’m sorry for how I left things in our text. I felt like I was spending so much time with you and not enough with Tessie, and I felt guilty and like I had to distance myself, but I did it all wrong.” Megan says in a rush as Iseul’s expression clears and her eyes soften. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it, Megs?” She asks gently, leaning close. “I was embarrassed to admit it, plus I didn't want to hurt you but unfortunately that's what I ended up doing by not being straight up with you." She says. Iseul nods. "You did, Megs. I was wracking my brains thinking what the hell happened? Or thinking maybe the last time we hung out that I said or did something." Iseul admits. Megan nods, biting her lip and says. "I'm sorry Issy, I hope you can forgive me." Iseul smiles faintly. "I can, Megs. Next time just talk to me, and if you feel like you need to spend time with Tess or your kids** and can't hang out, just let me know. I won't be mad, plus I know how much you love them and they're important in your life." Megan nods, her face clearing up and her eyes turning brighter. "You're important too, Issy. I mean, you're my best friend." Megan adds as Iseul smiles softly.
"Do you have time to hang out after your class?" Megan asks. "Hmm, let me check my schedule." Iseul jokes, and Megan shakes her head but smiles. "It's a thirty minute class, I'm just covering this semester for the professor because she's on maternity leave, but I'll be free after." Iseul says, her eyes softening too. "Cool, there's a tea and poetry event happening here where you can read your own poem or recite a poem that means something to you, some of my language and literature students are reading their poems* and I'm reading something too." Iseul smiles. "I'd love to, Megs. What's your poem about?" Megan grins as she and Iseul head out of the commons so she and Iseul can buy coffee before Iseul’s class starts. "It's a surprise, Is." She says, and Iseul grins. "Is it about how amazing I am, and how in our friendship I'm the cool one?" She jokes, and Megan snorts. "Wow, Kang. You're very full of yourself." She teases, smiling at Iseul. "I prefer the term self assured." Iseul jokes before adding, "I'm kidding Megs, I'm sure it'll be good." And she smiles at Megan.
They walk over to the coffee cart and wait after placing their orders. "It's pretty cool that you'll be on campus too, we can get lunch together, hang out in our free time and grade stuff together." Megan adds as she and Iseul take their coffees and sit on a nearby bench. "Can you believe we were once college students here, and now we're the old as heck professors? Well mostly me but you'll be the cool professor with the short hair and leather jacket." Megan adds jokingly. Iseul grins and shakes her head. "Megs, stop, you're making me blush." She jokes. Megan snorts, "Don't go and get a big head about it, I just meant that you look cool." She says. "Well, you're cool too, Liao. I mean look at you." Iseul says, gesturing to Megan, who grins. "Now you're making me blush, Kang." She says, Iseul rolls her eyes but smiles.
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silly-goose21 · 6 years ago
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I <3 WAC
Though Washington College, like every school everywhere, has its flaws, there is no place I’d rather call home. I may only be a sophomore, but time and time again I am reminded of why I committed to WAC.
WAC has introduced me to some of my favorite people on the planet and has created opportunities for me that I would not have had elsewhere:
-As a second semester freshman, I was hired as the Photo Editor for our student newspaper, The Elm. As only a freshman I had a major role on a campus publication, which doesn’t often happen here and would probably never happen anywhere else.
-Over the summer I was an intern at the Cherry Tree Young Writers’ Conference, a one-week writing conference geared towards high school students that introduces them to a number of published authors and creates an environment where they are submersed in all-things-Literary. While the major function of the Conference is writing, and we spend the majority of our days broken up in different genre groups (poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction), we also had the opportunity to read our work and various readings, watch literary-based movies, play literary trivia, attended panels where we got to ask the authors questions about their processes and styles, and anything else we wanted, and so much more. The panels especially were an amazing opportunity because the only other time you’d be able to talk to an author is at their reading, or reaching out through email or social media, but because of the Conference it was a much more intimate space than a reading would ever be.
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Pictured above are all of the Cherry Tree Summer Interns.
-As a sophomore I am the President of the Writers’ Union, a club on campus geared towards fostering student writing. On top of Writers’ Union’s regular meetings, we will be hosting a number of other events including readings, a movie night, a board game night, and at the end of the semester a chalk walk to help students de-stress before finals. We will also be hosting Sophie Kerr Workshops to help seniors submitting Sophie Kerr Portfolios cultivate the best submission possible.
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Pictured above is VP of Writers’ Union Justin, holding our new logo posters.
-Because of the small size of WAC, I have been able to cultivate close relationships not only with other students but with faculty and staff as well. On top of having my advisors to talk to, I can also reach out to anyone working at the Lit House to work out a problem.
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Pictured above is the Lit House.
-I’ve also made a bunch of really close friendships while I’ve been here, and while that happens anywhere, I’m glad I’ve made the friends that I have. Because most of us live in MD, PA, or DE, we hang out over breaks too. Over the summer I went to Firefly with my friend Justin who lives right by Dover Downs. Over winter break a bunch of us got together to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. Making strong connections is really important, no matter where you go to school.
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Pictured above is part of my friend group dressed up as the kids from Recess for Halloweeen.
There were so many factors that went into me committing to Washington College, but the most important was that it just felt right. It felt like I was supposed to be here the first time I came (and the second and third because I was so drawn to WAC it’s the only school I visited multiple times). When you find that in a school, don’t ignore it. Out of everything that goes into choosing a school, your gut feeling should have the most weight. Mine did, and everything else fell into place so that I could be here, making amazing memories, creating connections, and experiencing opportunities I can safely say would not be possible anywhere else.
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justineframularo · 2 years ago
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Top 10 takeaways from MHAs Annual Conference
Top 10 takeaways from MHA’s Annual Conference https://www.mhanational.org/blog/top-10-takeaways-mhas-annual-conference Top 10 takeaways from MHA’s Annual Conference MHA Admin Wed, 06/15/2022 - 09:55 June 15, 2022 By Jennifer Bright Last week’s 2022 MHA Annual Conference, Forward Together: Recovery, Healing, Hope, convened, both in person and virtually, thousands of mental health advocates, clinicians, and crusaders with a unified goal of sharing ideas to improve mental health for all. Personally, it was a special event that marked the beginning of my tenure as MHA Board Chair, an honor and responsibility I am energized to embrace. With so many incredible sessions led by inspirational and knowledgeable speakers, every attendee could give you a list of their most memorable moments. For me, these were my top 10 favorite takeaways from yet another amazing MHA conference. Connecting people’s brains and hearts is the key to good legislation and policy. Thank you to Utah State Sen. Steve Eliason for his perspective on this as an elected leader. New York Times bestselling author Bassey Ikpi reminded us that recognizing the good in oneself equals spirituality. MHA President and CEO Schroeder Stribling announced an MHA endeavor over the next few years to study the spirit-mind link and how it can improve mental well-being. From pain comes greatness. Our speakers offered living proof of this in art and music (multi-platinum pop artist Andy Grammar), poetry and writing (Bassey Ikpi), and athleticism (10-time world champion swimmer Allison Schmitt). Just keep moving. MHA’s 2022 mPower award recipient Sam Gerry’s story echoed this sentiment from Martin Luther King Jr. Gerry, a 20-year-old college student, co-founded Kick It for a Cause, Inc., a charity kickball tournament-turned-nonprofit organization supporting suicide prevention. Think out of the box. Look for uncommon and unexpected solutions. Shoutout to The Confess Project for linking mental health and barbers to reach Black men. We are all in this together — mental health affects everyone and is our call for allyship, coalition, and radical collaboration. Change happens in communities — first and always. The struggle is real and there is hope. Youth are this movement’s future. It’s proof that MHA’s strategic focus on NextGen Prevention strategic plan is both visionary and impact focused. Be authentic. Love yourself as you are. Andy Grammar beautifully put this in song, and so many presenters at this conference brilliantly put this into words. Your voice is your superpower: USE IT.Tell your story, share your learning from the conference, ask questions, and demand change. If you missed this year’s conference, I encourage you to attend next year and make your own list of takeaways to share with your community. via Mental Health America Blog https://www.mhanational.org/ June 15, 2022 at 09:55AM
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trashartandmovies · 4 years ago
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Berlinale Film Festival 2021, Industry Event, Day 4
Only during a film festival would a three-movie-day be considered cooling it down. After over a dozen movies in three days, you need throttle down, take a deep breath, eat a decent meal, sleep in for at least one long morning. Yet, when your film festival is an online event, many of the symptoms of Festival Fatigue aren’t as readily apparent. There are no long waits in line, no running across town to catch the next screening, you don’t have to rely on junk food so much, the laptop/headphones set up isn’t such an assault on the senses. (And yes, I tried to stream the movies on my television, but the Berlinale media platform wouldn’t abide.) Nevertheless, cramming so many stories into your head in one day taxes the brain — there’s no way around it.
So Day Four was a three-movie-day, and it started with an excellent film in the Competition section: Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY. This is another film that relies on the details and intricacies of conversations, that then build into life-changing moments for its characters. Here, Hamaguchi offers three separate short stories, each of which revolve around honesty, coming clean, and unburdening the soul. For better or worse, one or two characters in each chapter makes a life-changing choice to tell the truth, open themselves up, and become vulnerable. By the end, I had tears in my eyes.
Ironically, WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY did what I wanted Day Three’s FOREST to do. It uses its short story structure to indulge in different tones, to move from heartbreak to humor, to take the viewer through a range of emotions. In the first story, a young woman finds out her friend is dating her former lover, so she decides to confront him and say all the things she’s been grappling with since the breakup. It’s a prickly, sometimes bitter confrontation that takes everyone through conflicting emotions and desires. The second chapter is centered around an attempted literary seduction of a college professor that stands as one of the funniest moments of the festival (so far). The final segment features a woman attending a high school reunion and trying to reconcile with her first true love. This closing chapter is a near perfect feat of storytelling, and gives such hope to the power of human connection, that it is truly uplifting without being manipulative or sentimental.
Instead of putting the strongest story first, the film builds upon itself, getting stronger as it goes along. It’s also subtle about its theme. In each story, when the character feels compelled to unburden themselves, it feels like a very genuine and honest moment. Whether the immediate positive or negative results of their confessions outweigh the long-term results is up for debate, but the larger point is clear: we’ll only move forward if we speak the truth.
A tragedy is a difficult genre to pull off. Sometimes, like in Shakespeare’s work, the word “tragedy” is right there in the title of the play. So you know it’s not going to end well. You know that someone, maybe everyone, is going to die at the end. The thrill of experiencing a staged tragedy isn’t in the delivery of an unexpected ending, it’s in feeling those dreaded pieces fall into place. Agonizing over the fateful moments when people make the wrong decision. Recognizing the all too human traits that make people act against their better judgement and precipitate their own demise. Oh, but for the grace of God

The Competition feature BALLAD OF A WHITE COW, is one of those tragedies. Indeed, it starts with a tragic death that all but assures more suffering will follow. (That said, I won’t spoil the ending but I will get into some plot developments that could be considered spoilers, so consider yourself warned.) We meet Mina (played with incredible conviction by co-writer/director Maryam Moghaddam) as she says goodbye to her husband, right before he’s executed by the state. Not long afterward, Mina gets the horrendous news that new evidence came to light, and yes, her husband was wrongly executed. She’s told there will be money given to her because of this mistake, but what she keeps hearing is that her husband’s death, still, must have been God’s will. Cold comfort.
Then, a mysterious man named Reza (Alireza Sanifar) appears at her door to try and offer some more genuine help. He says he was an acquaintance of her husband’s but it’s soon revealed that he was one of the judges who issued the death sentence. Reza is completely hollowed-out by the role he played in an innocent man’s death. The reasoning of “God’s will” isn’t sitting well with him, either. Reza’s son is disgusted with him, too, and doesn’t understand why Iran insists on continuing to execute people. So, while Reza’s life is falling apart, he tries to redeem himself by putting Mina’s life back together. We all know, this is a doomed arrangement. He can’t hide his real identity from Mina for long, and the longer he tries, the more damaged he becomes.
When the conclusion arrives, it does feel inevitable, but it also comes across a little too neat for the messiness of the situation. The abruptness of what happens may have been intended to leave you feeling gobsmacked, which it does to a certain extent. But it also left me feeling like directors Behtash Sanaeeha and Maryam Moghaddam may have tried to keep the audience from asking too many questions. Prior to these last few minutes, Sanaeeha and Moghaddam film it all with a cool eye and a steely reserve. The framing is practically a how-to course in visual storytelling. It makes a strong impact and a great case for repealing the death penalty in any country that still maintains the barbaric practice. Death only begets more death. Even Shakespeare knew that.
Day Four ended with my own little midnight movie screening of Fern Silva’s ROCK BOTTOM RISER, a film that won a Special Mention award in the Encounters section. Even though Silva has been working nearly fifteen years on a number of short films, this one is his debut feature and it does feel pretty special. It’s hard to classify, but it does fit into a certain category of experimental documentaries. It’s a collage of sound and footage, captured in, around, above and underneath the island state of Hawaii. It probes at its history, its status as a hub for astrology, and its unusual nature as an ever oozing and burbling mass of lava.
From the get go, ROCK BOTTOM RISER lets you know that this will be as much a psychedelic experience as a movie. Just before the titles boldly present themselves, we’re given the image of someone falling down, through the solid ground. That’s us. We’re going underwater, into space, into the volcanoes that are constantly charging the landscape in some bizarre ways. In two of the most memorable moments from the festival (so far), we visit a vape shop for an insane smoke and mirrors performance, and a poetry class that is teaching students about the Simon and Garfunkel song “I Am a Rock.” In terms of greatness, these moments can only be seen and heard to be fully understood.
At times, ROCK BOTTOM RISER reminded me of a more experimental Werner Herzog documentary. Fern Silva is after the kind of ecstatic truth that Herzog spoke about in his famous Minnesota Declaration: Truth and Fact in Documentary Cinema. Specifically, declaration number five, which states: “There are deeper strata of truth in cinema, and there is such a thing as poetic, ecstatic truth. It is mysterious and elusive, and can be reached only through fabrication and imagination and stylization.” In ROCK BOTTOM RISER, Silva is, sometimes quite literally, trying to reveal the many strange strata of Hawaii. What’s remarkable is that while a lot of time is spent staring at magma, or at lasers shooting out from observatories, you come away feeling like you have a much deeper understanding of Hawaii than you ever had before. It’s an unimpeachable success.
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l-l-kristofferson · 7 years ago
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My Last Semester Of School
For those who have been following me on Instagram, you guys have been up to date about things I've been doing. Including the fact that I have finally finished school as of Thursday the 14th. When I finished, I could not describe the feeling that came over me. It was pure and utter joy. I have been going to school since I was five years old. I am about to turn twenty-two next month. That's nearly seventeen years of school. Seventeen years of busting my ass. Seventeen years of stress, irritation, and frustration. But after all that, I have finished with the best grades I've ever had. For the first time since I've been in college, I made the Dean's List. And I am proud of myself.
Although it is the end, the road to get here was not an easy one. There were numerous challenges that I faced to get to this point. I could not have made it without the support of my mom and stepdad, my friends and their kindness, my teachers, my classmates, and the countless number of customers that encouraged me while I was at work. I would also like to thank the staff at my school: my friends in the lunchroom, my friends in the library, my friends at the bookstore, and the many friends I made through the social events I attended in my final semester. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all. For your kindness, sincerity, and encouragement. It really carried me through.
Now to get into specifics.
The summer before my final semester, I sought out an internship. To do this, I had to seek out the coordinator of the Experimental Learning program, Angela. She was the sweetest and most hip of most of the people I had met at my school. She liked a lot of the music I liked. Brownie points for that. So she was my push to get the perfect internship. She helped me every step of the way. From the search, to the interview, to the resume, to the cover letter, and to the final stages. I came to her when I was having issues with my internship. For those who don't know, I interned in downtown Philadelphia at a place called US Dream Academy. It is a wonderful program that provides a lot of opportunities for children and teenagers. I got a chance to interact with the staff behind the scenes and the kids on some level. Although it was a good program, my contact person was not the best at communication. Which made no sense since they had Drexel interns and volunteers. Long story short, I had few hours and it was nearing the end of the semester. In light of that situation, I had to get another internship. I interned with the Associate Dean of the Arts at my school. I've had her as a teacher before so we had a preexisting relationship.
At the end of it all, I succeeded in my assignments from both internships. I made a post about author and writer Julia Kristeva. If you have not seen that one, go check it out. It is titled "I Love Writing" and it was by far one of my favorite assignments ever. My favorite assignment of all time was designing a poetry workshop for the kids of US Dream Academy. It was a six week program and it was a tedious task. But it was something I loved. I hope they get someone with as much enthusiasm as me to teach it.
If the internships weren't enough pressure, I had to do the homework for six classes. That's a full course load for a full time student. The least to take for a full time student is twelve credits (four classes). I was taking eighteen (six classes). I was initially supposed to take five classes with the internship being something extra. But when it was fully integrated and now a requirement in order to graduate, I was shit out of luck when I thought I could just drop the internship when I wasn't getting the hours. Thanks to Angela and the Associate Dean, it was all made possible. Some of the assignments were ridiculous, especially from my Junior Seminar class. This teacher wanted us to do weekly responses, do a minimum of a five page paper and read three to four hundred page books in a WEEK. A WEEK! I know this is college but come on. We have other classes to attend to. This guy assumed we could solely devote ourselves to his work and get it all done. Despite all this, I got a B in his class. It only got fun near the end when we got to the Zombie Apocalypse. I love that stuff sooooooo much. I love all things zombie.
When I wasn't at home doing homework, out at my internship, or at home sleeping, I was at work. I wasn't scheduled a lot but I was always scheduled to close during the week. The night shift on a weekday is very busy when you work in retail. This is the time that people get out of work and come to pick up the things they need for dinner, the house, or things for their families. The busiest days at the store are Mondays, Fridays, the first of the month, and weekends. If you work in retail, you know that this is all true. At my job, I would have to snack on something during my shift. I only got a half hour lunch. That isn't enough time to relax and eat. So I would have to buy snacks to sustain me as I worked.
During my break, I would listen to music and text so I could detox. Those who have never had a job in retail think that it is easy to be a Sales Associate. You have to deal with customers that get angry when things aren't a dollar or the price they want it to be (I work at Dollar General. Because dollar is in the name, everyone thinks it's a dollar store), customers messing up displays and merchandise, leaving carts in the parking lot, and putting things back because they can't afford it. I have some words of advice for most of the customers that come into my store: please read the signs closely and come in with a budget. If you did that, you wouldn't have problems you have when you come in.
If I wasn't dealing with anything about school or work, I would have to deal with problems in my personal life. For those who have followed me and have gotten to know me, you know I suffer from horrible insomnia. So I normally don't sleep well at night. And when I can't sleep, I am up writing or chatting online. On a lot of mornings, I would have to drink a strong cup of tea to get through the day. I try to drink as little caffeine as possible so I don't end up dependent on it. But I would always deal and get through the day. Thank you Lipton black tea for keeping me awake on those long school days.
But when it wasn't sleep problems, it was problems with my mood, hygiene, and basic self care. In a previous post, I spoke about my two and a half month low in a crippling depression. That spanned throughout most of the semester. It wasn't until mid November that things started to improve. So from the end of August until mid November, it was a struggle to even get out of bed. I nearly lost myself. But I held on and got the help I needed. I thank those who supported me through that hard time and lifted me up to get to this part of my journey. You are all wonderful people.
Now I'll talk about the fun stuff.
I got really close to my friends Amber, Meggie, Jordan, and Rich. There were countless others like my friend Chris (Big Brother), my fellow loco Puerto Rican Manny, my very close female friend (I've talked about her before), my friend Karyn (Danni), and my good friend and coworker Adriel.
This year, I got to help out at my school's haunted house, which my friend Meggie ran this year. We raised money for the Ferocious Fighters, a charity that supported research and treatment for the neurological condition RSD. My friend Meggie suffers from the condition and has for nearly five years. She is by far the strongest friend I've ever had. She has to deal with constant pain everyday. But she doesn't complain and she faces every single day with a bright smile and a strong sense of determination. I admire her very much. She is a fighter like me. And the kindest soul. I love you Meggie.
My friends Amber and Jordan were like the dynamic duo. I would hang out in their class if I happened to be free on Thursdays. We would chat it up and have a good laugh. Jordan was the king of memes. He would make them all the time. He is also my go to guy when it comes to anime pictures. If I ever needed something, he was there to find it. As for Amber, she was queen of Vans merch, along with being queen of the bands The Front Bottoms and Modern Baseball. She reminds me of Tina from Bob's Burgers. When the three of us were together, Jordan was Gene, Amber was TIna, and I was Louise (mostly because I was an outspoken, crazy and at times mischievous guy). They enjoyed my weird humor and quirkiness.
Thank you guys for being my friends. You brightened my days when they seemed so bleak. For listening to my problems and never turning me away. You guys will always have a place in my heart and a place in my phone. I've never met a group of people so awesome. And Alisitie, don't think I forgot about you. I love you too you amazing human being.
This post was not only about me. It was also to appreciate all the people that played a part in me getting to this place. I love you all so much. Words cannot describe what you mean to me. I am grateful for you.
Quick update for you guys. I have a new email address to interact with you guys. If you want that email, DM me here. I will also post my social media and story handles for you.
Instagram: lame_dude_20 (Profile picture of Roxas)
Kik: kingsebastianisdead (Profile picture of Ventus. Username is The Roxas Joker)
Wattpad: WarriorEmpath
I will be posting a yaoi vignette on Wattpad before the new year. So stick around for that.
Thanks for listening. Write again soon.
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corkcitylibraries · 4 years ago
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Remembering Derek Mahon
by Dr Sorcha Fogarty
Derek Mahon, whose poem “Everything Is Going To Be All Right” brought solace to many during the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic, died at his home in Kinsale, Co. Cork, aged 78 on October 01 2020.  Regarded by many as “The poet’s poet”, Mahon has written some of the most respected and admired contemporary poetry in the English language, winning numerous awards for his work including the prestigious David Cohen Prize for a lifetime achievement in literature. He has produced in excess of twenty collections of poetry, has adapted literary novels for Film and Television, and has worked as a literary journalist for many Irish and UK newspapers and magazines.
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  Born in Belfast in 1941, Mahon was the only child of working-class, Church of Ireland parents. His father was a shipping engineer, while his mother, who had worked for a flax spinning company before she married, devoted herself to housework. They were Protestants, as Mahon told the Paris review, but not slavishly so: “They weren’t really serious church people. I mean, they were Protestants! There‘s no such thing as a devout Protestant, is there? Protestants aren’t devout, they’re staunch.” After Skegoneil Primary School, he attended the Royal Belfast Academical Institution, where he started writing and publishing poems, winning the first of many prizes when he was 17, and was involved in amateur dramatics, also participating in debates. Having made the decision to attend Trinity College, Dublin, Mahon stated that he “rumbled Belfast for the bigoted corrupt dump that it was and I was delighted to get out of it”. Turning his back on the North, however, also meant severing links to his ageing parents: he missed the death and funeral of each of them. He matriculated in Trinity College to read English, French and Philosophy, and although he formed many friendships with writers such as Michael Longley, Eavan Boland, and Brendan Kennelly, his Trinity years were difficult. He was a less than diligent student, twice expelled for poor attendance at lectures, and, in his second year, he allegedly attempted suicide by jumping into the Liffey at Butt Bridge following a “personal crisis”. Mahon, however, remembers it differently, and in one of the essays in “Red Sails” (2014), makes the comment, “Jump in the river for fun and someone will say you tried to commit suicide”. As noted by Stephen Enniss I his book on Mahon (2015), the truth of the matter may be contained in Michael Longley’s pithy summing up of the event: “partly theatrical, partly suicidal”. However, it was at Trinity that he decided to devote his life to poetry. Mahon left Trinity in 1965 to take up studies at the Sorbonne in Paris, but his stay in Paris only lasted a year, and he subsequently worked his way through Canada and the United States.
In 1965, he won an Eric Gregory Award, and three years later published his first full collection, “Night-Crossing”. During these years, he travelled a great deal: England, France, Belgium, Germany, Canada, and the USA. He worked at a great many disparate jobs, and even managed to finish his degree at Trinity but did not attend the graduation ceremony. In 1967, Mahon began seeing Doreen Douglas, a Trinity classmate, whom he married five years later. Not an easy marriage, it involved numerous, and increasingly lengthy and acrimonious, separations. Mahon would appear to have been a reluctant husband and father - they had two children - and things were greatly worsened by his problem drinking and, in 1986, adultery. Mahon continued to write, publishing six books of poems between 1972 and 1985, as well as various pamphlets. He worked for Vogue, the New Statesman, and the BBC, but could never really hold down a regular job, which exacerbated matters further with his wife. He then entered a prolonged period of writer's block, during which he turned to the translation of French poetry, especially that of Philippe Jaccottet. In 1975, he wrote what was to become his most celebrated poem, “A Disused Shed in Co Wexford”, described by John Banville as “the best single poem written in Ireland since the death of Yeats”.
A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford
Let them not forget us, the weak souls among the asphodels.                                                                            —Seferis, Mythistorema (for J. G. Farrell) Even now there are places where a thought might grow — Peruvian mines, worked out and abandoned To a slow clock of condensation, An echo trapped for ever, and a flutter Of wildflowers in the lift-shaft, Indian compounds where the wind dances And a door bangs with diminished confidence, Lime crevices behind rippling rain barrels, Dog corners for bone burials; And in a disused shed in Co. Wexford,   Deep in the grounds of a burnt-out hotel, Among the bathtubs and the washbasins A thousand mushrooms crowd to a keyhole. This is the one star in their firmament Or frames a star within a star. What should they do there but desire? So many days beyond the rhododendrons With the world waltzing in its bowl of cloud, They have learnt patience and silence Listening to the rooks querulous in the high wood.   They have been waiting for us in a foetor Of vegetable sweat since civil war days, Since the gravel-crunching, interminable departure Of the expropriated mycologist. He never came back, and light since then Is a keyhole rusting gently after rain. Spiders have spun, flies dusted to mildew And once a day, perhaps, they have heard something — A trickle of masonry, a shout from the blue Or a lorry changing gear at the end of the lane.   There have been deaths, the pale flesh flaking Into the earth that nourished it; And nightmares, born of these and the grim Dominion of stale air and rank moisture. Those nearest the door grow strong — ‘Elbow room! Elbow room!’ The rest, dim in a twilight of crumbling Utensils and broken pitchers, groaning For their deliverance, have been so long Expectant that there is left only the posture.   A half century, without visitors, in the dark — Poor preparation for the cracking lock And creak of hinges; magi, moonmen, Powdery prisoners of the old regime, Web-throated, stalked like triffids, racked by drought And insomnia, only the ghost of a scream At the flash-bulb firing-squad we wake them with Shows there is life yet in their feverish forms. Grown beyond nature now, soft food for worms, They lift frail heads in gravity and good faith.   They are begging us, you see, in their wordless way, To do something, to speak on their behalf Or at least not to close the door again. Lost people of Treblinka and Pompeii! ‘Save us, save us,’ they seem to say, ‘Let the god not abandon us Who have come so far in darkness and in pain. We too had our lives to live. You with your light meter and relaxed itinerary, Let not our naive labours have been in vain!’
As well as problems in his own private life, Mahon was beset by problems in the public sphere. The Northern Ireland Troubles started just after “Night-Crossing” was published, and left him deeply disturbed and perplexed. In 1977, he was appointed Writer-in-Residence at the New University of Ulster. When that position terminated in 1979, he left Northern Ireland for good. Though he found it difficult to deal head on with the Troubles, it was a recurring theme in his work. In “A Postcard from Berlin”, for example, he tells Paul Durcan, the poem’s dedicatee:
“I can imagine your dismay/As, cornered in some zinc cafĂ©,/You read of another hunger-strike,/A postman blasted off his bike
” Essentially, Mahon was a poet of dislocation. His work revealed a fervent desire to resolve the ambiguities in life: between the secular and the sacred; past and future; natural and unnatural. The theme of loss, exile, and isolation is a repeating preoccupation in Mahon's work, as he holds a deep interest for figures that live on the fringes of contemporary society, “the unreconciled, in their metaphysical pain/dangle from lampposts in the dawn rain” (“Glengormley”, 1979)
 Indeed, it seems that Mahon himself was one of those “unreconciled” characters which feature so largely in his work. As his relentless travels show, he was a wanderer at heart. However, Mahon was constantly plagued by poor finances and frequently hospitalised for alcoholism. He was one of a great number of exorbitantly talented writers who battled alcohol addiction. Widely regarded as one of the greatest writers of all time, Brendan Behan described himself as a “drinker with a writing problem”, and the prolific Flann O’Brien died from alcoholic complications at 54. A comprehensive list of creative geniuses who dealt with addiction in many forms would be too great a digression here, but it is difficult not to acknowledge the connection between addiction, other mental health disorders, and genius. In his article discussing the association between major mental disorders and geniuses, Psychiatrist Nicholas Pediaditakis reminds us that, “There exists an association between creativity and major mental disorders knows since antiquity. Aristotle, in his perspicactity, stated, ‘There is no genius without having a touch of madness’” (Pediaditakis, 2014). Mahon has been described as a “truculent character”, more comfortable being in the position of an outsider. Mahon himself states, “it is important for me to be on the outside looking in”. He wove together history, personal demons and quiet contemplation in works that could be dark but also spoke of renewal. His sympathy was often with “waste” – an example of which is the famous “A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford” – and critics such as Hugh Haughton have noted that there is an indisputable connection between order and detritus in Mahon’s work (Haughton, 2002), exemplifying the poet’s paradoxical fascination with trash as, to paraphrase “A Disused Shed”, “a place where thought might grow”. 
Essentially, Mahon produced poems that combined classical allusion with vivid everyday detail, and explored history, conflict and personal demons with great wit, elegance, and skepticism. In his work, states John Byrne, Mahon completely eschews complacency, showing a readiness to confront in himself the “metaphysical unease” with which modern man and his literature are afflicted.  Following Mahon’s death, President Michael D. Higgins said “The loss of Derek Mahon [
] is like the falling of oak trees. We are left with hope from the fruit of the acorns in which the writing and its encouragement represents as legacy”. No doubt, now that Mahon himself has gone, his work will be studied assiduously with a renewed interest and vigour. Mahon’s work is a testament to the fact that it is possible to create something beautiful out of darkness and despair, a fact which could serve us well during this difficult year. In “Antarctica”, Mahon says, “‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’/The others nod, pretending not to know./At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime./He leaves them reading and begins to climb
”. With his incredible body of work, Mahon has indeed left us with plenty to read. And it is, all of it, sublime.
  Sources
After the Titanic: A Life of Derek Mahon, Stephen Enniss, 2015, Pub. Gill Books
The bright garbage on the incoming wave: Rubbish in the poetry of Derek Mahon, Hugh Haughton, June 2002, Textual Practice 16(2):323-343
The association between major mental disorders and geniuses, Nicholas Pediaditakis, Sept 25, 2014, Psychiatric Times, Vol. 31, Issue 9
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psychotherapyconsultants · 6 years ago
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What It Means to Be a Mental Health Advocate—And How to Become One
Over the years, the stigma surrounding mental illness has significantly decreased. One of the biggest reasons?
Mental health advocates.
These are the individuals who tirelessly share their stories in all sorts of ways. They remind us that we’re not alone in our struggles—and there is real, tangible hope and healing. They shatter stereotypes and myths about mental illness, helping the public see that people with mental illness are just people.
As Jennifer Marshall said, “By showing the world that we’re your neighbor, your family members, your friends, and we are not only surviving with these conditions, but thriving, we’re educating the world and changing the world for the better.”
If you’re thinking about becoming a mental health advocate, you might be wondering what advocates actually do, and how to get started. We asked advocates who are doing all kinds of incredible work to share their insights.
What It Means to Be a Mental Health Advocate
Therese Borchard defines a mental health advocate as “anyone who is a voice for those suffering from depression, anxiety, or any other disorder—who hopes to disseminate a message of hope and support.”
Similarly, Marshall said it’s “someone who learns how to take the best care of their mental health and shares openly about their story to help others.” 
According to T-Kea Blackman, an advocate is “a change agent,” “someone who educates his [or] her community on mental health, reduces the stigma and fights for change in the behavioral system.”
Sally Spencer-Thomas, PsyD, thinks of advocacy as a “spectrum of engagement” from allies to activists. An ally is someone who feels connected to challenging the discrimination and prejudice related to mental illness, but might not act on their feelings. An advocate uses their voice to encourage change. An activist “engages in intentional action to move change along—getting people organized, moving legislation, changing policy.”
What Mental Health Advocacy Looks Like
There’s no one way to advocate. It really depends on what’s important and inspiring to you—and what you feel comfortable with.
Borchard mostly writes and has created two online depression support communities: Project Hope & Beyond, and Group Beyond Blue, on Facebook. She also serves on the advisory board of the National Network of Depression Centers, speaks to different groups, and helps depression organizations spread their message.
Blackman hosts a weekly podcast called Fireflies Unite With Kea, where she gives “individuals who live with mental illness the opportunity to share their stories.” She hosts mental health events and speaks at workshops and conferences. She also works as a peer recovery coach for a pilot program, helping others with their personal and professional goals.
Years ago, Marshall started a blog at BipolarMomLife.com, after being hospitalized for mania four times in 5 years. Today, she’s the founder of an international nonprofit organization called This Is My Brave. They share stories of individuals who have mental illness and live full, successful lives through poetry, essays, and original music. This Is My Brave hosts live events, and has a YouTube Channel.
Spencer-Thomas is a clinical psychologist, and one of the founders of United Suicide Survivors International, “pulling together a global community of people with lived experience, lifting up their voices and leveraging their expertise for suicide prevention and suicide grief support.” She also advocates for workplaces to become involved in mental health promotion and suicide prevention; for providers to learn evidence-based clinical practices; and for innovation in men’s mental health through campaigns such as Man Therapy.
Gabe Howard, who believes that “advocacy must start with open and honest dialogue,” primarily does public speaking, and hosts two podcasts: The Psych Central Show, and A Bipolar, a Schizophrenic, and a Podcast. He’s also testified in front of legislators, served on boards and advisory councils, and volunteered for various initiatives.
Chris Love has shared his story of recovery from substance abuse all over North Carolina. He works as a counselor at a substance abuse treatment center, and with the nonprofit organization The Emerald School of Excellence, which is North Carolina’s first recovery high school for teens struggling with substance use.
Lauren Kennedy is an advocate who speaks to all kinds of audiences, including police officers, high school and college students, and healthcare professionals. She also has a YouTube channel called “Living Well with Schizophrenia,” where she talks about mental health and her own experiences with schizoaffective disorder.
The “Why” Behind Advocacy
“Being an advocate is important to me because I believe the only way we’re going to eliminate the stigma, judgment and discrimination surrounding mental illness and addiction is by putting our names and faces on our stories,” Marshall said. “This Is My Brave does this one person and one story at a time.”
For Kennedy, being an advocate is important because “people living with mental health problems are just that, people; and deserve to be treated with the same respect and compassion as anyone else.”
Similarly, Blackman’s mission is to “show that mental illness does not have a look,” and to “show those in the African American community that it is OK to attend therapy, take medication (if needed) and pray.”
“We do not have to choose our faith over our mental health, or vice versa. Every human deserves the right to have access to mental health treatment. Therapy is not a white or rich people issue; this is a myth that must be dismantled in my community.”
Spencer-Thomas views her advocacy work as her life’s mission after her brother died by suicide. “Every day I get up to prevent what happened to Carson from happening to other people. I feel that he walks alongside me, encouraging me to be courageous and bold. My fire in the belly is fueled by the process of making meaning out of my loss. I would do anything to have him back, but he’s not coming back, so my work is part of his legacy.”
Howard noted that as someone with bipolar disorder, he’s been unfairly judged and discriminated against. He’s had difficulty accessing care—and seen others experience difficulty, as well, because of their finances, where they live, and other circumstances.
“I just couldn’t sit by and do nothing. It seemed wrong to me. I tried to ‘hide in plain sight,’ so I could avoid the negative reactions—but it felt so fake to me.” 
During Borchard’s lowest points, reaching out to others relieved some of her pain. “In those times when nothing, absolutely nothing worked, becoming an advocate for those who suffer from depression and anxiety, gave me a purpose to strive for, to get out of bed. Today, I continue to feel the benefits of service. It connects the random dots of life.”
How to Become An Advocate
Becoming a mental health advocate can include big and small actions—it all matters!
Advocate for yourself. As Blackman said, you can’t be an advocate for others if you don’t first advocate for yourself. For instance, she recently talked to her therapist and psychiatrist about discontinuing her medication. They collaborated on a specific plan, which includes continuing to attend weekly therapy sessions and calling her doctor and returning to medication if she notices any negative changes. According to Blackman, advocating for yourself means getting educated, understanding your triggers, developing coping skills and stating your needs.
Share your story. Start with family and friends, which also will reveal whether you’re ready for a wider audience, Borchard said. Love said if you’re comfortable, consider sharing your story on social media. “The beginning of ending stigma is being able to put it out there and talk about it.”
Educate your immediate circle. “There is a tremendous amount of power in reflecting on how you think and talk about mental health, and how you can help others in your life to take a more positive and accepting stance on mental health and mental illness,” Kennedy said. For instance, you can correct misinformation, such as using person-first language (“person with schizophrenia”), instead of “schizophrenic,” she said. Blackman also noted that you can text family, friends, and colleagues articles about mental health. In fact, she started by sharing articles and videos with loved ones to help them understand what she was going through.
Volunteer. Many of the advocates suggested joining local mental health organizations and assisting with their programs and events.
Get a mentor. “Like most things, getting the right mentor is about building relationships,” Spencer-Thomas said. She suggested noticing people you’d like to be like, reading their posts, leaving comments, and asking questions. “Volunteer for events or at meetings where [this person] is present
Ask them directly about being a mentor and set realistic expectations.”
Get trained in legislative advocacy. Spencer-Thomas noted that one way to do that is to become a field ambassador for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.
Find your niche. “[F]ind the thing that you are better at than most and that inspires you,” Howard said. This might be anything from public speaking to writing to fundraising to managing volunteers, he said.
Advocates who’ve been there also remind us that even though we can’t see past our pain right now that doesn’t mean this will be our future. As Blackman said, “
I am amazed at how I went from not wanting to live [and] attempting suicide [to] using my experience with mental illness to educate and reduce stigma.”
from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/what-it-means-to-be-a-mental-health-advocate-and-how-to-become-one/
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themoodofthepeople · 6 years ago
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Vincent Toro: "Raquel Salas Rivera and Roberto Carlos Garcia graced us with their poetry this evening at Bronx Community College. The majority of the students who came had never attended a poetry reading before. It was beautiful! It was so wonderful that no one wanted to leave when the reading and Q&A was over. Here's a group pic with Raquel and Roberto and some of the students. Nights like this remind me how blessed I am to do the work that I do. Latinx Poetry Nerd Power! Big thanks to Dr. Grisel Yolanda Acosta for co-facilitating the event with me." https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq_aps6H8FalUd2VEjFKa6vUhycLjEJPIm_MxE0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1m8b6jdytev4g
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dexplainsitall · 7 years ago
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On Failing
“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” ― Maya Angelou
It is September 1st. It is the start of a new month, and some would even say it is the start of the end of the year. It has started getting chilly. Soon, the leaves will begin to fall. Some people get nostalgic. Others prepare for the rest of the months left of the year. To me, it is the perfect time to reflect about the events that have transpired for the past year of my life.
It was June, 2016, and the world was in the palms of my hands. I had finally graduated from College, after four long years of studying. Imagine my surprise when it was announced I had the best grades of the 2012-2016 Class. I had worked day and night for that moment. I had rejected invitations to go out to several places. I had stopped traveling and spending time with love ones to study. I had woken up at night with answers or ideas for my different projects. I had even stopped doing what I love most for months ─writing. It hadn’t been for nothing. I had done something I had wanted to from the moment I stepped foot into my first class. I had done it. I had made my family proud. Most importantly, I had made myself proud. It was a historic event. The first time in my life I had done something worthwhile. I hadn’t come second or third, I had been first. Now, writing this, the memories of that time flood me. I feel the adrenaline rushing to my veins. I feel the joy of that moment. It was like being on top of the world.
That elation, like all things, soon came to an end. A month had passed by since graduation day, and I was still unable to get a job. That did not worry me that much. My plan was not jumping into the work wagon immediately after College. I wanted to write a portfolio for the MFA I wanted to get into. I wanted enough time to get all my documents in order, and write the best poetry pieces I had ever written thus far. The due date was April 15th, and I felt the clock ticking. My family, however, didn’t have the same idea. Ever the pragmatics, it was unthinkable for me to not be actively looking for a job (even though I was). How did the student with the best grades still unemployed? They wanted me to go out, knocking on every school in the estate, asking for a job. Obviously, things do not work in this way, not anymore at least. The pressure was such that I gave in, and started looking more into it. As was expected, jobs for an English major were scarce. Experience was a main problem. Most places looked for people with more than three years of experience. In practice, I had one. This complicated things. I sent my rĂ©sumĂ© first to a translation company. I went to all the interviews, and I passed their exam. However, they had people with more experience, and thus I wasn’t hired. I kept looking for anything that I could do. In my desperation, I sent my rĂ©sumĂ© to the school I had studied in as a child. They sent me an email back, saying there was a position for an English teacher available
 in preschool. Do not get me wrong, I do like kids. As a child, one of my dreams was to be a teacher. I imagined myself teaching little kids. However, I did not study to teach preschool. Elementary school, yes. But not preschool. Although I didn’t feel like I had the abilities, I succumbed to my mother’s and grandmother’s pressure to get a job.
You have to understand something about me. I was always a good girl. I was always a smart girl. The girl who always got the best grades, and when she got less than ideal marks, she would get depressed. The girl who had anxiety when she was nine years old because she couldn’t get the grades she wanted. The girl who felt frightened about the possibility of being a failure in life when she was just a child. Growing up, I thought that I would have my life put together by age twenty two. Yet, the reality showed that I even couldn’t get a job. I took it. I went to the interviews. I wasted precious hours of my life getting interviewed, answering exams, feeling anxious about the result. I got the job. I was warned that it was going to be difficult, but I quickly forgot about it when I saw my family’s happy faces. That was a grave mistake.
What you do not realize about teachers until you become a teacher yourself is the amount of time you spend on your job. Most people go in, work for eight hours, and go home, having time to rest. Teachers work eight hours at school, and then go home to work more. During this time, I spent a lot of my time lesson planning and preparing material at home. While in school, I of course had to teach, and be with the kids. It was exhausting. Coordinators and the principal expect you to have three year olds seating and behaving. It seemed almost impossible when all the boys liked to run around the classroom, or hit each other. The girls were calmer, but they too had their moments of misbehaving. The parents, though, were worse than their children. They wanted all teachers to focus entirely on their own child, when there were other twelve to look for. They complained every week about me or another poor teacher. The coordinator and the principal, of course, always took the parents’ side. It was a nightmare. I came home exhausted from dealing with bratty kids and their bratty parents. I had to keep working at home, lesson planning, preparing material for my classes, and, on top, making gifts for the kids for the school’s many events. I was asked to stay an hour after I should have gone home to attend meetings. I was forced to stay one day a whole evening “playing” with children. I never got paid extra for doing overtime. The other teachers also complained about this. The older ones said that things had always been like this. I felt bad. I thought about my previous teachers, the ones I had had in this school, and wondered if they had ever gotten shit because of me.
The treatment was unfair, and the job underpaid. But I kept working. In all honesty, I wanted to quit after the first week. I endured, though. I endured because my mother always told me I was a quitter, and that I had to stick with my decision. So, I did. I kept working because I was getting paid more than all my old College classmates. I kept working because I told myself I needed the money. I worked because I didn’t want to be a quitter. I missed events with my friends because I had to work or was too exhausted to go out. I started getting sick every two weeks due to stress. I felt gloomy all the time. Soon, I noticed the obvious signs of depression looming their way into my life. I came home crying every day. I began tearing up while giving classes. I felt like shit. What was worse was that I had stopped writing altogether. I had lost my will to write. Meanwhile, April 15th continued ticking inside my mind like a time bomb. I was wasting precious time doing something I hated that should have been spent writing.
I went to a therapy session with my psychiatrist. He told me that the best thing I could was to quit. My friends, who had noticed me slowly losing my mind, told me that I should do it. In the long run, I was going to be seriously depressed, and I could hurt myself. I was also losing time not writing. I decided to do it. As expected my family got angry, and told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life. That I was a failure. The pain I felt at their words and constant reminders that I was not going to find another job were nothing like the freedom I felt when I stopped going to my job. The principal got very upset too, and swore I was never going to get hired at another school. I didn’t care. I decided not to work at another school with little kids, definitely not in preschool again.
During the next few weeks, I found my writing voice again. I started writing the poetry pieces I was missing for my portfolio. I felt genuinely happy for a change. I finally had time to do what I love most. I wrote with everything I got. I started looking for a job again, and by the beginning of December I got a new job as a part-time English teacher at a local English Center. During the beginning of the New Year, I worked on the mornings, and came home to write. I put all of my documents in order. I had my friends check my portfolio and my statement of purpose. When I wasn’t doing these things, I edited two plays, and started translating various documents. In short, I was going all of the things I had learned in College. I felt useful. I felt happy.
When April 15th came around, I submitted all of my documents and waited.
During the next month, I kept working, now as a translation teacher too for the same school. I had the time to meet new people. My coworkers were all interesting people, having interesting experiences. My students were too. They needed to learn English, and later translation, to keep their jobs. I learned about their families, the kind of work they do, their aspirations. I loved seeing their faces light up when they finally understood something, or when I praised their efforts. I always told them they could do better, and I was pleasantly surprised when they took my words at heart and did it. Things had fallen into place for me, and now all I had to do was wait to see if I had made it into the MFA.
They say that with May comes new opportunities. However, in May my hopes and dreams were crushed. It is funny how they reject you nowadays. You log into your account, and there, waiting for you, is a message which says in bold letters “REJECTED.” Next, the words “We regret to inform you that
” but you don’t care. You already know what happened. You have been rejected. The words big and clear. I felt like I had been pierced through my soul with those letters. I hated them. I got depressed again. My dream, the one I had worked on for so long, seemed so far away. Worst of all, I felt like a failure. Feeling a bit hopeful, I sent three poems to a magazine which had opened a contest to publish fifteen poems. I got rejected there as well. After this last rejection, I had to face the facts. I was a failure in many ways.  I had a minimum wage job, I had been rejected from my dream MFA, my poetry had been once again rejected by a magazine, and lastly my love life was inexistent. I had failed in every possible aspect of my life.
When I was a child, and later a teenager, I had dreaded not having my shit together by the age of twenty three. I had planned to be successful. To have a high paying job, to have published something, and to have had found the love of my life already. At twenty three, I hadn’t achieved any of these things, while I had to watch my high school classmates all traveling the world, getting married, getting amazing jobs, getting into master’s degrees in important universities worldwide. What had I done? Nothing. I was my worst nightmare. When I looked into the mirror that is all I saw: a nightmare.
I had discovered that what they say about reaching rock bottom is true. Once you’re there, there’s nowhere to go but up. What does this mean for me? Firstly, stop whining about my misfortune. I want to be a published writer. I will do it someday, somehow. So, I’m going to keep writing. I’m going to experiment and see what comes from that. Currently, I have two projects: a poetry collection and a novel. Secondly, I will look into other options for a master’s degree. Thirdly, even if my current job is ideal, I do not hate it and that’s progress. I will keep it until I find something better. Lastly, I decided to continue on with this blog, which I had abandoned when my life spiraled out of control. I will keep publishing my ramblings, but with a lot more literature. So, whoever is reading this, if you think you have failed, Congratulations! You have just learned something about yourself. The ones who have failed, are tougher now. Follow your ambitions, and see where they take you. After this, you can only keep on climbing up.
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femmesfollesnebraska · 8 years ago
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Geng Xue, artist
Geng Xue was interviewed on LFF in 2015, and is now having her first solo exhibition of porcelain and bronze works in America, Mount Sumeru. The exhibition is on view through June 17, 2017 at Klein Sun Gallery in New York. Featuring the series of sculptural works by Geng Xue, the exhibition references the sacred mountain Mount Sumeru, considered as the center of the physical and spiritual universe in Buddhist cosmology. Inspired by Chinese folklore and philosophy, Geng Xue recontextualizes traditional porcelain, molding her sculptures as an array of truncated bodies blended into various ethereal landscapes. Rendering the works in diverse peculiar forms and scales, the artist then transforms the porcelain pieces into sound installations, where sound echoes and reverberates inside the structure, emitting a fluid resonance. Constructing a sense of the surreal and the uncanny, the exhibition endeavors to uncover the intricacies between perception and embodiment.  She shares with LFF about how she got into art and the significance of her mentor, her work in the current show, collaborations and feminisms and more...
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Installation view: bronze sculpture by Geng Xue, Mount Sumeru, at Klein Sun Gallery in New York, 2017. Courtesy Klein Sun Gallery,  © Geng Xue.
Where are you from? How did you get into creative work and what is your impetus for creating?
I was born in Jilin, China. I currently live and work in Beijing. I started to study to sketch at the age of 3 and continued throughout high school. I attended the Fine Arts School affiliated with the China Central Academy of Fine Art for college. I majored in sculpture at college hoping to learn something new about material and the three dimensional space. I began to get a better understanding of what ‘creation’ was in art and sculpted my first porcelain works. After graduation, I worked as a stand-alone artist for four years before becoming a graduate student under my mentor Xu Bing. Xu is an outstanding artist who has had a huge influence on me and my work. I graduated in 2014 with an MFA from the Central Academy of Fine Arts with a focus in print. I also traveled to the Karlsruhe University of Arts and Design in Germany to study video and sound during graduate school. To me, art is about continuing to study new mediums and developing new skills from what you learn. Just like an author writing classics and a musician creating songs that last for generations, I create art under a pure innate impetus. This innate impetus is not limited by gender or age, and this impetus is our value of life - a way to surpass ordinary life but at the same time so ordinary that everyone can possess it. 
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Geng Xue: Sound - Hearer 1, 2016, Porcelain, 15 3/4 x 15 3/4 x 5 7/8 inches (40 x 40 x 15 cm). Courtesy Klein Sun Gallery,  © Geng Xue. Photo by Lv Weixin.
Tell me about this show and why it’s important to you. What do you hope people get out of your work?
I am displaying new work created in 2016 at Klein Sun Gallery under the title Mount Sumeru . This is my first time utilizing an oxidized electric kiln aiming at presenting a warm and smooth white color close to ivory. My choice of black to paint on my works is also my way of paying honor to the traditional Chinese porcelain-making technique. Mount Sumeru is the center of the ‘small thousand world’ in Buddhist cosmology and my intention here is to reveal our relationship with our sensory world. Each piece has a unique title, which originated from Buddhist terms. They are short but very deep. Some of these pieces have sound makers inside and the correlation between all the sound pieces playing together creates a sound space to connect the natural world and the human world. I am experimenting with these pieces in terms of technology and the delivery of beauty in hopes that my viewers can sense the uniqueness of my work, which essentially blends new technology into a traditional sense of patterning and beauty.
Does collaboration play a role in your work — whether with your community, artists or others? How so and how does this impact your work?
Absolutely. There has always been collaboration when creating art, especially during the creation of video works. The creation of a single piece of video art might require a large team of people working together, like in my past video works Mr. Sea (2014), Borrowing an Easterly Wind (2015) and Poetry of Michelangelo (2015). Collaboration allows different technologies to supplement my work. However, I continuously remind myself to play a dominant role in these collaborations because it can turn into chaos otherwise. If I haven’t thought through all the details of a piece, people’s opinions can be detrimental to the project. If this happens, then it means I haven’t done my part of thinking on my own very thoroughly.
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Geng Xue: Three Realms Voice, 2016, Porcelain and sound installation, 7 7/8 x 7 7/8 x 35 3/8 inches (20 x 20 x 90 cm). Courtesy Klein Sun Gallery,  © Geng Xue. Photo by Lv Weixin.
Artist Wanda Ewing, who curated and titled the original LFF exhibit, examined the perspective of femininity and race in he r work, and spoke positively of feminism, saying “yes, it is still relevant” to have exhibits and forums for women in art; does feminism play a role in your work?
There is definitely a feminine side to my process, but I don’t want to stress feminism. The topic of feminism varies between countries and races. The situation is different in the country that I live in compared to countries that has experienced feminist movements. Women do face a lot of problems, both physically and in relation to their families, which can easily jeopardize their willingness to focus on work. Women face this issue more directly than men. I totally agree that nowadays we need to change women's positions in certain societies. However, my works don’t directly discuss women’s social status. My works are creations of art and a pursuit of artistic language rather than a direct reflection of reality. But I do respect authors and artists working directly with the topic. Their works are respectful as long as they are good artists who convey great artistic messages.
Ewing’s advice to aspiring artists was “you’ve got to develop the skill of when to listen and when not to;” and “Leave. Gain perspective.”   What is your favorite advice you have received or given?
Work slowly, there is no rush. Making art is a lesson that takes a lifetime and every new opportunity to create is a new chance to learn.
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http://www.kleinsungallery.com/
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~ Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins.  LFF Books is a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014), The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015), BARED: contemporary art and writing on bras and breasts (2017, edited by Laura Madeline Wiseman) and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017). Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. See the latest call for work on the Submissions page!
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luca-shaw-blog · 8 years ago
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Portfolio Feedback 7
 – ALLUMNIGHT, Vicky Carr During the ‘Allumnight’ event, designed to create an opportunity for graduates of Stockport College Art School to feedback and offer guidance to undergraduates, I showed my portfolio to Vicky Carr – a member of Textbook Studio. The event, as well as creating an environment to interact with past students, was also a celebration of Stockport College Art School, its achievements, its aims and its large network of like-minded creative individuals. The whole event made me incredibly proud to be a part of this community and to have studied amongst these people and the environment they create. This was a vibe both me and Vicky shared, both extremely appreciative of the Stockport College Art School team. I was keen to speak to Vicky about my portfolio primarily due to the fact that I’d had a lot of comments about it having a very ‘graphic’ feel, I wanted to get a perspective from a graphic designer. I am also intrigued by Textbook’s ability to straddle many avenues of design, which they said happens organically.  They inspire confidence in me due to their very natural confidence and love in what they do, which from what I see remains inquisitive. Vicky encouraged me to change the typeface of the info to something more modern and less explicitly ‘student’, reminding me not to overlook these details. She was very positive about having my work ‘in context’ a lot, she said it helped her to ‘get’ certain pieces, certain ‘boxes’ of image worked as just ‘boxes’, but others need to be shown in context. She was very praising of a few of the new additions which form part of my visual programme, and encouraged me to get this photographed in the same way as my poetry book. She felt my book covers were clean and clear, and that when describing the work to a client it may be important to distinguish which part is my imagery and which part would be added by an art director, as currently I’m doing all of it myself. What was also very interesting was her encouragement to keep my interactive work sitting alongside my 2D work. She felt that the interactive installation projects were interesting and could open up doors into this area, no matter who I was showing it to. She reminded me that you never know what opportunities could come from the portfolio and keeping this part hidden may only restrict my outlets. Vicky was massively encouraging of ‘creating your own job’, and helped me to feel very confident in what I do as an individual. What I have come to learn from her was how important it is to build and retain a network of creative people who in turn are constantly generating new opportunities and projects to be involved in. As well as making the improvements to my portfolio like she suggested, I intend to continue attending as many events as possible where I have the chance to talk to others artists and creatives and widen my network. I began this with an event Vicky herself was co-hosting at Islington Mill the following weekend called ‘buffet’, a wacky summer school-esque show and tell of creative ideas.
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