Sir Dostoevsky

This I wrote for the final project in my World Lit class. We had to write two letters, each to a different author. I chose to write one to Fyodor Dostoevsky, of Crime and Punishment fame. Before reading C&P, we read "Notes From Underground," which was significantly worse. I wrote this letter as though I had just finished reading "Notes From Underground" when it was first published, before C&P had been written. If you ever had to struggle through C&P or "Notes from Underground," you'll get the humor in this letter. If you never had to read it, think about all the verbose works you have read, and I'm sure it'll be fairly applicable. If you ever read Tolstoy, I hear that he's fairly similar. Enjoy.

November 13,1864

Re: Editing

Dear Mr. Dostoevsky:

I am writing to you concerning your recent novella “Notes From Underground.” I congratulate you on exploring so well the subtleties of the alcoholic, anti-social jerk. I do wonder what inspired you to write such a comprehensive study of such a character, although I agree that it is a unique work. Perhaps some particular individual inspired the Underground Man? It is certainly amazing how well that you managed to explore the depths of his mind.

However, in my opinion, the short story, while short, could easily have been written much more concisely. While I understand that the story was written to explore the concepts of ennui, pain, and nastiness, I don’t believe that readers should be forced to feel pain and boredom deeper than the Underground Man himself feels during the novella. Additionally, I think that your stories might be significantly more popular if you inserted a smidgeon of cheer. For example, the Underground Man is well defined, but he does not change at all. At the end of the book, he is just as unhappy and despicable as he is at the beginning. As such, I think that you ought to appreciate my services as an editor.

As your editor, I would prevent you from repeating mistakes that you made in Notes From Underground. If I had been working with you while you wrote Notes From Underground, I would have suggested a happier ending, for Liza, at least. For the Underground Man himself, some character growth would have made the story significantly more likeable – for example, after his awful cruelty to Liza when she comes to visit him, the Underground Man should have attempted to change his pitiful and terrible attitude towards life and other people. After all, while your Underground Man was certainly well developed, modern audiences consisting of decent people may find him difficult to identify with. If I had been helping you, your character would have found redemption in the end, and the unfortunate victim Liza would have been lifted out of her sinful prostitution and her awful position.

Besides your characters, I would recommend that you alter the constitution of your writing. Your writing style is commendable, but Notes From Underground was extremely long winded – I’d hate for your next book to have 500+ pages. Although you are not repetitive, I do feel that many of your ponderings were redundant. That is, while you did not directly repeat things, you certainly did use and overuse ideas. As your editor, I would try to prevent your beating concepts into the ground. For instance, if you were to write a thrilling murder mystery, I would advise you to not write more than three hundred pages exploring guilt.

My final suggestions as your editor would be plot – please have some. Although there were certainly events in Notes From Underground, they were certainly less than thrilling, and I believe that your talents could create an absolute cliffhanger. Again, I do suggest a murder mystery. I believe that you could certainly make readers sit on the edge of their seats, chewing their nails, wondering who the killer was, if you would only abandon this obsession with character development.

I thank you both for writing Notes From Underground, and for reading this letter. I hope you’ll return my interest in my aiding you with your writing. I’m sure you realize how much more marketable and appreciable your writing could be, were I to help you with it, and I certainly do hope you find my suggestions agreeable.

Your devoted reader,

Carlin

¿Como Hace?

I’m studying. Actually, I’m not. You see, studying vocab is where you sit in bed (or on the bus, or in the kitchen) and focus on two or three words at a time and just concentrate on the words and little else. AP studying, however, is an entirely different beast.

Doesn't my yard look like a fairy tale?

I’m studying for my AP Comparative Government and Politics test today (Mexico and Iran, today). Ironically enough, the studying was much easier to concentrate on when it was sunny outside earlier, as I just took a beach towel outside and read in the sun (always wear sunscreen, kiddies). Once it got cloudy, though, I got my camera and played with the color filters for a while, then came inside and turned on the TV so that I could multitask.

But.

One of my favorite shows was on. Studying with the noise of the TV in the background turns into watching “What The Ancients Knew” and studying during commercials. After watching “What The Ancients Knew – Egyptians,” I realized that this was really, really not economizing my time, and so I recorded Greece and India so that I could read about the voting demographics in Mexico. (In general, the uneducated poor vote for PRI, the middle-class old people who like Catholicism vote for PAN and middle-class students vote fore PRD, in case you were wondering. Riveting, I know.)

Study-time does tend to turn into study-and-take-pictures-of-flowers-time, or study-but-also-design-a-dress-time with me. These are some pictures I took of flowers when I was doing China on Friday.

I was really glad I’d gone out and taken them on Friday, because Saturday our lawn care guys came and cut our grass – and also the lawn flowers that I love. I think that when I’m ancient and own my own house, the neighbors will hate me because I will never mow my lawn because I love it when there are flowers. I’ll say, “I know that our grass is a foot tall in places, but if I cut it, I’ll kill the dandelions!”

And eventually my yard will revert to its natural state, and I’ll start having to hunt the bears that come to live on my land. That’ll teach me, I’m sure.

Oh, by the way, Zahi Hawass made an appearance on the “What The Ancients Knew” episode on Egypt because he’s awesome.

He's on shows about Egypt all the time on History Channel, Nat Geo, Science Channel, et cetera. I would have to say that he is one of my favorite television personalities.

P. S. Happy Mother's Day.

A Productive Day

Today was a productive day. My mom went to have a dress fitted, I cut out the pieces for my dress, we got glasses (both of us did), and we spent some time at Target. I really like Target, and I think that it's infinitely better than Walmart... And I got sunglasses and underwear (yep. You sure did need to know.), and we tried to buy The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Romeo + Juliet, but they didn't have either one, and that was sad. I also bought a hat that reminds me of a bowler hat, except that it's made of a hemp-like material.

In any case, it was a beautiful day, and after we got home from our errands, I went outside and went running. I took a meandering route, and I really have no idea how far I went. It was, however, a productive run, because I found a 9/11 memorial (I'd seen the statue and the flags, but I never realized what it was), and I found a park (which I'd driven past a gazhillion times, but never really registered), and I found a river. A creek. A stream. Whatever.

Also, I got hit on.

Picture: A young girl, hair frizzed from being crimped and then brushed and put in a ponytail. Blonde. Wearing a blue-turquise wifebeater and black yoga pants, jogging on footpath by the side of the road. Sitting on a sign for the Community College across the street are five young men wearing clothes that are, collectively, too large. One is wearing a polo shirt of a matching color to the young girl. He leaps off of the sign and runs across the road to meet her.

Jose: Hey, I see you're jogging.

Me: Yes. Yes I am.

Jose: We're wearing the same color shirt.

Me: uh-huh.

Jose: Where are you jogging to? Mind if I jog with you?

Me: Nowhere in particular, and go ahead. (note: girl maintains a rather disinterested tone, because even if Jose is kinda hot, she has a boyfriend and doesn't want the kind of guy who hits on random joggers)

Jose: So... what's your name?

Me: I'm Alice (note: girl's name is not Alice. She is a filthy liar.)

Jose: I'm Jose.

Me: Nice to meet you.

Jose: So, do you jog often?

Me: Almost every day.

Jose: Ah... Do you always come this way?

Me: Not usually, no.

Jose: Oh. Well, I live right over there (gestures largely at the community on the other side of the street from the park along which I'm running), so you can feel free to come this way any time you want.

Me: mmm.

Jose: Well, bye.

Me: See ya.

I admit, I was rather frosty to the guy, but yesterday they brought in a guest speaker to talk to us about abusive relationships, and last year we talked about date rape, and the moment this random guy crossed the street to come to talk to me, I started envisioning the cops finding my body in the river (which I found today) three weeks later.

Which would suck.

So I acted kinda frostily, and he ended up leaving me alone, and he didn't even ask me for my number.

I think I'm starting to figure out how to not accidentally flirt with strange men. Productive day, yes?

Run-on Sentences

Dear Run-on Sentences:

You know, I suppose it’s good that we’re finally meeting up again. It has been a while since I’ve seen you, after all, and I wouldn’t want to lose an old friend. Hey, I haven’t forgotten – you were with me through the thick and thin of elementary school. You were always there to offer me a proverbial shoulder to cry on when I hit writer’s block in sixth grade. You were there to encourage me when the teachers of fifth grade were cheerleading the benefits of sentences containing multiple clauses. Run-on Sentences, you were there with me, loyal and true, and always willing to step up to the plate when I needed another ten words put somewhere.

I remember that story we wrote together, in our golden days of youth. I pranced and leaped through fields of imagination, and Run-on Sentences, you slithered alongside me, ensuring my purple pencil could keep up with my fun-filled fantasies. With you by my side, I needed not stop to make a period! When we were together, the words simply flowed out of my slowly deadening pencil, with no regard for form, grammar, or even sense. Those were the days. We were free together, you and I.

Worry not, Run-on Sentences, my sweet. I have not forgotten how close we once were. I’ll always have a special place in my heart for you, truly. But, Run-on Sentences – now, please understand, I say this not with hard feelings, or with any wish to hurt you – you really mustn’t interrupt me at work like this. I know, we had a past, and yes, we had something special going. But when I’m writing about the British government and Parliament, you can’t just barge in and expect me to give up everything to be with you again. Times have changed.

I have changed. I’m older now, and I’ve met some new friends. I know, Run-on Sentences, you hate Conciseness – but I’m not hanging out with him to spite you! It’s just a personality clash between the two of you, he’s really not a bad guy; maybe if you gave him a chance, you’d be surprised by how great Conciseness is.

I have to admit, though, Conciseness isn’t the only one. He introduced me to Eloquence. Oh, Run-on Sentences, I know you’ve never met her. You’ve probably never been in the same room as Eloquence. She’s way out of your league. Hey, she’s way out of mine, too. Poets do not write about her beauty. Eloquence gives poetry its beauty!

It hurts me to say this more than it hurts you to hear it, Run-on Sentences (don’t pretend you didn’t hang out with every other seventh grader in the school just as often as you played with me), but if I got a chance to hang out with Eloquence, I’d stop seeing you for good. Eloquence isn’t a toy, you know. I could never be with her and keep in touch with you. She’d leave me in an instant if she even thought I’d dallied with you again, Run-on Sentences.

Please don’t be hurt, my old friend. I’ve still got a long way to go until I get even close to the level of Eloquence. We can still share a moment or two in the meantime. Just understand, Run-on Sentences, I can’t be seen with you at school. Really. If you showed up in an essay, why, I’d never hear the end of it. Just know that I remember you fondly, and you can still pop up, if you’re subtle about it, and if we have the delete key there to chaperone.

Fondly,

Me