One of the other things I had an opportunity to see while in SoCal this last weekend was the symptoms of THE INDUSTRY.

Here is Silicon Valley, THE INDUSTRY is high tech. Poor high tech. But in the LA area, THE INDUSTRY is entertainment. I met a screenwriter. He was quite a nice guy. Perhaps he had more personality than the rest of the world knew how to deal with, but I quite enjoyed talking with him.

I asked him about the format of screenplay writing. He grew even more animated, and gave me a book called “Screenplay” all about how to write a script.

As it turns out, there is pretty much only one way to organize the events in a movie. In the first thirty minutes, you have to introduce all the major characters, and create a dilemma for the characters to work on. Then the next 60 minutes is everyone working on the dilemma, and then creates a second plot twist or problem. The last 30 minutes resolves and wraps up the story.

Pretty much, that’s it. Almost all the movies in the world, and they all have the same structure.

I find that astounding. As I think about it, I can recognize the pattern in movies I’ve seen.

Perhaps I should be disgusted that “the masses” are so easily satisfied, so easily entertained. Maybe if I were feeling more cynical, I would feel that way.

But I don’t. I am amazed and in awe of the creative power humans possess. I have often been astounded, as I play my piano, how the same notes, and the same structures in music can create such fabulous variety. I love all the songs I play, and yet they are so similar. They all have the same kinds of chords and patterns in their structure.

So movies, which seem as different as snowflakes, can follow the same pattern. But that structure gives a container to the creative minds. A writer or a director can know where to place the pieces and give thousands, millions of people a scary, hilarious, or profound experience.

For the last year or so, I have been interested in the causes and effects of the First World War. Really, it seems to encapsulate so much of what went before and to set the stage for everything that came after.

The whole war seemed to be fought on poorly understood, or at least poorly tested, ideals. The Victorian English came to the battlefield with a great “sense of duty.” This duty had become the replacement for the faith they had lost (or cast off, depending on your point of view) during the 1800s.

The Germans, and I admit I am hazier on this point, seemed to fight the war based on their ideals of how the world should become. They felt themselves to be far advanced in the area of ideals and philosophies; they wanted to be the leaders of the new modern age.

So, my reading and studying of the previous eras seem to lead inevitably to the enactment of WWI.

But then the Second World War seems to arise inevitably out of the aftermath of the first war.

The modern age, the age of the flapper and Jazz, the age of disaffection and disillusionment rose out of the failure that WWI turned into. What was the point of the war? What was the point of all those who were killed?

And what was the point of all those that survived?

The loss of faith, then the loss of the sense of duty, which replaced the lost faith, left a tremendous void. What was left? Eat, drink, and be merry. Right?

Maybe. That was part of what World War I taught us, the taste left in people’s mouths.

As for WWII, for me, it has always been about the Holocaust. The terrifying nearness of the “almost’; the genocide attempt on the Jewish people is soul-chilling.

How could so many people have been involved in such wholesale murder? And not even the murders, but also the horrifying conditions of the concentration camps? How do people allow such suffering of fellow humans beings to occur without being aroused to compassion? How could this be?

So my concept of WWII has centered around the idea of “Never Again!” The message of that war was about resisting the kind of acquiescent evil illustrated by the Nazi atrocities.

But I was listening to a novel on tape, Mr. Sammler’s Planet by Saul Bellows. Sammler, the main character, has an opportunity to speak with a Punjabi Indian professor about his experiences as a Polish Jew during the war.

It occurred to me that other cultures might have a completely different image of the war. I know for certain that Chinese survivors of WWII have resentments towards the Japanese. I wondered what Indians would have thought about the war. What would be the general conception of WWII and its results in other countries than the US?

I suppose the idea is not terribly original, but it was original to me. I imagine that the interpretation of the results of WWII and how it affected each individual’s homeland would be very important for understanding the world climate of the 20th century.

I wish I could take a peek into the history books of different nations to know how other peoples saw the events.

I’m listening to NPR, my favorite radio station. Greg Palast is talking with Angie Coiro…
He’s an investigative reporter.

I should say, I hate the news. I have occasionally thought I would be a great journalist, because I love to write, and I am incredibly nosy. But then I think, “I hate the news. I can’t stand to read it or to watch it”

I Do hate the news. Where do I begin?
It saddens me tremendously to hear stories of the kidnapped children. And these stories are covered daily. Every local news program interviews the parents, the boyfriend of the mother, crying and wailing. I usually feel like crying and wailing too.

Then you discover that it was one of THEM, usually the boyfriend, who has RAPED AND KILLED THE CHILD!

Great.

You know, if I could do something about it, I would. But most of the time, it’s just depressing.

Then, should there actually be a story I want to know about, I never hear enough. They tell me about 5 seconds of information. What?! WHAT?!?! Say that again! Tell me more!

But no. We are on to the next missing child, or shoplifting celebrity.

I have almost no interest in celebrities. I don’t care about Robert Downey Jr. or Britney Spears. I don’t want to know about P Diddy and J-Lo.

I want to know more about those economic statistics. Or that foreign negotiation. I’d like to know more about campaign scandals.

But They never tell you enough. And they never finish the story. Should I happen upon a story that interests me, I want to read more. I’ll go on the Internet and find out more

Why do the news people assume I am stupid and only want the 15 seconds of information they give me? I want to know where I can get more. I think that Americans deserve more respect. And I do believe we are being manipulated by people who think they can get away with it.

Greg Palast, who I had never heard of before today, apparently has written a book called The Best Democracy Money Can Buy: An Investigative Reporter Exposes the Truth about Globalization, Corporate Cons, and High Finance Fraudsters

I may just have to check it out. He has an interesting story.

I’m tired of being jerked around by the news. I wouldn’t mind having some of these stories be brought to my attention a little bit sooner.

I am bogged down in that dreaded task, revising my resume.

As I take a look at my skill and experience, I am kind of impressed by what I have done.
I’ve handled some pretty amazing jobs and projects!

But then I look at the descriptions of jobs posted on the web or wherever, and I think “I can’t do that! I don’t know how to do that specific thing! I can’t do anything.”

Sometimes it’s difficult to have self-confidence. When I look at the things I have done, I am objectively aware that I have done difficult things, things that I would admire in someone else.

But at the same time, when I think about applying for a job that would ask me to do similar hard things, I have huge self-doubt.

That wasn’t really ME that did all those great things. It must have been a fluke. Like the mother that could lift the car off the little child and save her. It couldn’t be repeated.

But…I DID do those amazing things, and I did them for months at a time. It wasn’t a single miraculous occurance; it was long hard grueling work.

So why do I feel like I’m lying when I take credit for it?

I have a SITEMETER on this blog, and I have noticed that there are a few visitors from outside the US.

WELCOME WELCOME!

I’m very happy to see people are reading my blog. Please, feel free to email me if you would like, and introduce yourself.

I see a number of visitors from other places…aol, and others.

I just wanted to address you all. Thank you for reading my blog, and feel free to comment on anything.

Things DO pile up.

Shame on me for not writing. I had a great weekend, playing songs for my church benefit dinner. It was a lot of fun to perform for people.

All those good all love songs. My oh My.

I noticed that some of them are really sad…I wonder why we like to be safely sad about love songs? the Beatles’ “Yesterday” is supposed to be wildly popular. I played it for the diners, and I thought again about how sad it is.

Perhaps we believe we are more noble if our hearts are broken.

If your heart is broken, it is easier. You know the end of the story. But if you HAVE love, and are happy, it’s much more complicated. You have to keep the love. You have to work on it, and deal with problems or doubt.

Or worse. You have to decide when the love is done, but done in a not-beautiful way.

ending, or beginnings, are so satisfying. But middles…They are not so popular.

well, friends. I apologize for not giving you something to read yesterday. I am very happy that I have readers, even some readers I don’t know! How marvelous! I try to keep my end of the bargain by writing new content, but my creativity is a little low.

I think people have different settings, RPMs if you will, at which they operate best. I am a high-revving person. I have to have a lot of things to do to make me happy. In fact, if I have had a long day, and come home at the end of it, I often feel like I need to immediately leave and go see someone else. I’m just that way!

So. Not being in school and not being employed just leaves me feeling all weird. It’s hard to be creative. It’s hard to think of interesting things to write about.

I decided I needed more structure in my life. That will help!
I should do some volunteer work! That will give me a purpose in life. So I started looking around… I thought I should do something literary. But there aren’t as many volunteering opportunities for that sort of thing during summer vacation. Hmm…Food banks? Animal shelter?

Then it occurred to me…Charity begins at home.

My parents live with my oldest brother a few miles away. They recently bought a house in Sacramento, and are moving into it in August. This will require packing. And nearly everything they own is in the double garage, packed in boxes.

I think packed is an inaccurate term. Tossed? Thrown? Packed once, but rummaged through repeatedly? Sifted, sorted, piled…All these things would be estimations of the state of the garage.

It had to be packed. Those responsible for packing it were also the ones responsible for it’s state of extreme disorganization. That’s bad.

I was going to have to do it anyway, so I might as well do it in a peaceful methodical way. I called my mom and set up a schedule. I would go and work on organizing their stuff every morning for a few hours.

There is a certain irony here. It’s not like my house is not in need of organization. But it’s more fun to organize someone else’s mess.

I don’t know…Maybe everyone has one or two things that they have trouble throwing away. It is hard for me to give up books. Right now, I need to buy some more bookshelves. Clothes too. There is something about the sensuous feel of different fabrics. I have a fur coat that I’m never going to wear. But I can’t give it up! And all those lovely formal things…I hardly ever wear them…And funky costumey things…

What can you do?

I think we Americans have difficulty with “enough.” When is it enough? We all eat too much, most of us anyway, and the media likes to write about the problem of obesity.

We like to buy things. Isn’t our economy based on consuming? What’s up with that? We just have to buy all kinds of weird stuff. And then we have to buy the sequel!

I’m guilty. I love to shop. My wonderful boyfriend loves to shop, too. We have so much fun in the stores. We don’t feel compelled to buy things, though. Thank goodness. Most of the time our shopping is for amusement.

I love the 99-cent stores. One time, I was looking over the shelves there, and I happened upon some statues of pigs. 3-inch replicas of pigs, but they were dressed as a dentist and patient. Little piggy dentist with a girl piggy patient. Or little piggy girl dentist nurse and the boy piggy patient.

THIS WAS NOT ALL! These items would have been merely kitschy, except for the fact that boy piggy patient had his pants wide open, and his piggy hand pulling open the blouse of nurse piggy. Or when it was girl piggy patient, boy piggy dentist was leaning down into her piggy bosom as she pushed it out towards him, revealing the pink-blushed nipple areas for his lecherous dentist gaze.

Rows and rows of these statuettes lined the shelves. There were a few poses. I was aghast. I surveyed them, amazed. Then I noticed that there were similar pigs, undoubtedly from the same manufacturer, but they were naked and natural. Two happy pigs, running and playing around a hollow log. Except, in light of the soft-core pigs of the first statues, I began to look at their cavortings in a different light. What was occurring in the darkness of that log? Why was one pig chasing the other? And WHAT WERE THEY SMILING ABOUT?

Then, I realized, someone had designed and manufactured these pigs because they thought they would sell.

We really will buy almost any piece of crap with a FOR SALE sign on it.

I admit, I almost bought a pig myself, just to prove that an awful thing could exist. But I didn’t. I couldn’t perpetuate such a thing.

I got to visit my dad’s side of the family this weekend. They are the middle Californians. Some of them were complaining about “Kids these days”. Kids these days, apparently, do not help with harvesting the crops like they used to. Like all of THEM did. What’s the world coming to?

Some of my cousins made the point that there are child labor laws now. Good point. Those pesticides are only for adults!

They were all extremely congratulatory of my degree. “What was your major again? English?”

My aunt said it best. “What are you going to do with your degree? It’s fine to be educated, but it’s important to be able to eat. What are you going to DO? You can’t eat a diploma!”

One of the cousins said, “Well, you can, but only once.”

I took a deep breath and looked over the fence. I talked about how, when you live frugally, making a living is not as hard as it looks. I said that I was looking to do something meaningful, which would be exciting and focus on the things I love. I said I wanted to help people see the beauty of literature and affect the culture of America, but that I wasn’t sure what form that would take.

She looked at me blankly and said, “Are you going to be a teacher?”

My family loves me. She wants to make sure that I will be okay.

That’s what I had to tell myself the whole way home.

All of us liberal arts majors have the same conversation after graduation, I’m sure.