The Trouble With Blogging

Blogwise, I've been in a bit of a funk lately. (Yes, I just started a sentence with the word "blogwise." As of now, it exists.) Entries have been few and far between these days, and I don't like it one bit.

In an effort to combat this unfortunate streak, what else could be more relevant than to compile a few reasons why we put off blogging? Here we go. The trouble with blogging is:

1) It's time-consuming. Blogging is an investment. Writing entries on a consistent basis takes time, lots of it. If you can't sit down and put the hour(s) in, it ain't gonna happen.

2) You need inspiration. From my experiences, I've found that staring at the computer screen trying to squeeze words out of my brain doesn't produce good work. Good work comes from good ideas. Without the idea, there is nothing.

3) There's that constant pressure to be original. What I have dubbed the "Battle Against Cliche" has been especially stifling to the creative development of my blog. Who wants to write about the same old things? (To quote the Barenaked Ladies, "It's all been done...") I sure don't. At the same time, obsessing over wanting to be different too easily swallows up this blogger in the blaze.

This would be a nothing but a list of complaints unless I offered some kind of solution. I'll try my best.

So, how to fight blogging dry spells? I propose:

1) Making the time by re-prioritizing. This is a skill I have been particularly unsuccessful at lately. For this, I blame 1) the Man, and 2) TV. At the end of a long 9-to-5er (or 8:30-to-4:30er in my case), all I want to do is plop down on the couch, turn on the boob tube and not get up til bedtime. Oops. Honestly, if blogging really is more important to me than Jersey Shore marathons (which it is), Snooki & company will have to wait.

2) Being ready when inspiration strikes. That means anytime, anywhere-- no need to be tethered to a laptop 24/7 when you've got a pen and paper (or its digital equivalent). The Notes application on my iPod Touch has been a valuable tool for storing spontaneous bursts of thoughts and words, especially when I'm on the subway. The tiny screen keyboard is a bit error-prone, but it makes typing quick and easy. I need to utilize this device to the fullest.

3) Not trying too hard to impress. This doesn't translate to "put little effort into it." What I mean is that the more you write from within, from what you know, as honestly as possible, the more the originality will shine through. Entries practically write themselves when passion about the topic comes first, rather than measuring success against a "cliche counter." This is so much easier said than done, and probably what I need to work on the most.

If you're thinking that this entry was too self-aware, I'll have to disagree. How can growth as a writer and as a person come about if not from self-awareness? The trick is to know thyself, to be constantly re-evaluating, to always allow room for improvement. In knowing myself, I hope to build a better blog. Page by page, line by line-- word by word.

Snow Day 2010

On a typical Wednesday morning at 9:00, I'd already be busily typing away at my desk at work, after my traditionally quick Cheerios breakfast and hour-and-ten-minute commute to Williamsburg.

But today-- after a wonderful ten hours of sleep on a Tuesday night-- I woke up to a world covered in white outside my window. Getting up slowly out of bed, I pulled on a sweatshirt, fried some eggs, and switched on the radio to listen to the forecast.

Here I am: my first snow day at home in NYC since high school, which I'm going to put at six years ago. I don't remember any blizzards hitting us during senior year (2005), I'm sure there was a snow day in January or February of sophomore year (2003), and I think we had one junior year (2004), but I could be wrong. Stuy alums, correct me if I am.

Simply put, snow days were a true rarity growing up in the 90s and early 00s in New York City. If high school was relatively devoid of snow days, then junior high and elementary school saw even less of them. I can remember trudging through a wet wintry mix all bundled up with my younger brothers in tow on our way to P.S. 206, one twin on either side of my dad, their mittens gripping his hands. For NYC public schools to close, we needed a snowstorm of monstrous proportions, and we got just that with the whirlwind "Blizzard of '96" when I was in fourth grade. Other than that, it's hard to recall too many others.

If NYC is the "city that never sleeps," I find that to be especially true when it snows. Even in the worst of weather conditions, our city must remain an insomniac. We can't be crippled or thrown drastically off-track-- see what happened in Washington, DC when the snow hit them this past week for a good example-- because in a city with this many people, we just can't afford to shut down. MTA buses and trains are still up and running, albeit less frequently, at slower speeds, and with crabbier operators. That's a lot better than the disastrous DC Metro situation in which only underground subway lines remained open. If elevated rail lines were to be suspended in New York, millions of commuters couldn't get home to the outer boroughs. As flawed as it can be, the MTA just keeps on chugging, through rain, sleet or snow.

At the same time, I'm sure Manhattan is a slushy, snowy mess at the moment, and I feel bad for anybody who had to made the long trek to the urban jungle this morning. Times like these make me happy to live in Brooklyn, a borough that's a bit less chaotic and a bit more aesthetic. For now, I'm going to enjoy the view from my window while I can (pictured above). In New York, snow is about as ephemeral as beauty gets-- all the more reason for it to be cherished.

The Art of Homophobia

I'm going to backtrack here about something I meant to write about in a more timely manner, but as usual, real life got in the way.

Last month, the University of Notre Dame's student newspaper, The Observer, featured a 3-panel comic strip entitled "The Mobile Party" that ran as follows:



Panel 1: A tall, saw-like object with human hands and feet holds a bottle (presumably alcohol). He says:
"What's the easiest way to turn a fruit into a vegetable?"
Panel 2: A second figure, a human male, also holds two bottles. He replies:
"No idea."
Panel 3: The Saw Man again. He says:
"A baseball bat."

I'm not going to lie-- my jaw literally dropped when I first read this on the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) website. Thanks to GLAAD, the comic strip controversy made national headlines, and The Observer was inundated with angry letters from readers including current and former gay ND students. "The Mobile Party" was permanently discontinued. A Managing Editor resigned.

And then, the newspaper issued an apology that shifted from an apologetic tone to a discussion of Senator Harry Reid's now-famous racial remarks about President Obama. In other words, broader issues of diversity insensitivity were brought up to push the target away from themselves and instead on American society as a whole. Ah, college kids are sly.

The cartoonists claim that they were actually trying to critique homophobia in the first place through the absurd logic of the "Saw Man" character, who is literally depicted as a "tool" in the strip. This is rather difficult to believe (it comes off as all-too-convenient), especially given the fact that GLAAD reported the original punchline was "AIDS" rather than "baseball bat." Thus, the cartoonists felt that "baseball bat" was a less insensitive term than the fiery buzzword that is "AIDS," which is completely ridiculous since "baseball bat" makes light of-- and, indirectly, encourages-- physical violence against gays.

The cartoonists' desperate justification for their actions and their all-around stupidity reminds me of a situation that occurred when I was a columnist for my college newspaper. In my junior year, I wrote an article about the National Day of Silence, an annual event organized by the Gay Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) to address the persistent bullying of LGBT students in U.S. schools. The article simultaneously denounced the Day of Truth, created by the Alliance Defense Fund (ADF) as a response to the DOS urging "open dialogue" about human sexuality and the "Truth" behind homosexuality (yes, with a capital T). Except their definition of the "Truth" meant that people can de-gay-ify themselves through Jesus. Yeah, I know.

Anyway, I received an email from an editor of my school's rival newspaper, in which he accused me of being anti-free speech for my criticism of the ADF and the Day of Truth. He also asked me, and I'm quoting this word for word, "Who is being intolerant here: the Alliance Defense Fund, or Brigid Black?"

I almost laughed.

I suppose you could say yes, I was being intolerant-- intolerant of intolerance. Groups like the ADF sugarcoat their anti-gay platforms with the facade of "openness" and "truthfulness," and that's exactly what I sought to expose in my column. The "Mobile Party" cartoonists also sugarcoated the message behind their artwork, which was in reality a painfully upsetting piece. Who knows if they were truly sorry for what they did, or just sorry that they were caught.

As a former cartoonist and art department editor of a school newspaper, I'm well aware of the responsibilities that come with these positions. Cartoonists are journalists too-- as much as writers are-- and have a duty to the public that must be taken seriously. Yes, comic strips are meant to make us laugh, but not all cartoons are funny. The ND incident shows how some of the worst cartoons try to be humorous, but fail horribly in the process. And interestingly enough, some of the best cartoons are those of a serious nature. If the cartoonists were truly trying to demonstrate a pro-gay attitude, as they claim, then a more effective cartoon could have shed light on campus homophobia in a more subtle, sobering way.

I've always believed that good artistic journalism shouldn't be measured by how far the envelope is pushed, but by the intent and effect of the material. The cartoonist-artist-journalist has a choice: change the status quo and inspire readers to do the same, or perpetuate the same old sad stories. I would hope that The Villanovan staff takes a lesson from The Observer, and never needs to hear that phone call from GLAAD. Not even a successful basketball team can take away the shame of an unaccepting campus culture.