In Search of Lost Time

The Evergreen State College

Author: forbra23

Childhood

May 21, 2015 /

There’s a specific moment when I was in the fourth grade that I remembered when I was younger.  I was brushing my teeth ain the bathroom and so was my brother.  I had an intense question that was weighing on my mind, I asked my brother, “What if what you’re seeing is different from what I’m seeing?”  I was asking a question that was essentially about how our minds perceived the world.  How our eyes may see different things, or hear differences but we can’t vocalize them to one another because it can’t escape the reality we’ve created.  At the time though, this was something that I couldn’t really understand or name.

 

In relation to Proust I identify with the narrator in his novel, when he was a young man living in Combray.  I was caught up in deep emotions, thoughts that I couldn’t quite name or understand.  I would fixate on specific people, places, thoughts and ideas.  Many people told me that I was a daydreamer when I was younger, I was stuck within in my own world of thoughts and dreams.  I was so amazed by the universe and the complexity of my understanding of reality that often it would lead me to questions that none around me had the answer to.  I’m curious if engaging with a memoir will help me uncover the troubles of my youth or if it will be a fabrication that I will not understand.

 

Proust’s exploration of memory through fictional characters is an interesting approach.  Aren’t all the characters in memoirs portrayed as fictional, even though they’re portrayed as real people?  Remembering a specific moment and creating a story out of it may actually distance someone from the reality of the actions.

CLOSE READING

May 13, 2015 /

BRANDON FORTNER

IN SEARCH OF LOST TIME

5/13/2015

CLOSE READING

Romantic relationships are essentially about possession and distance as Proust would have us believe.  Becoming closer to your romantic partner creates boredom as the novelty of the unknown edges away.  Proust is creating within his novel the idea of a controlling relationship that centers on the absence of love and focuses on possession as the main theme.  This absence of real creation, an absence of actual enjoyment of a romantic relationship creates a disgusting, focused and honest opinion of how powerless women should be and interact with the men they claim to love.  Pages 252 through 255 are going to be analyzed in relation to the statements mentioned above

“I regretted only that the style in which I had asked her to do her hair should appear to Albertine an additional bolt on the door of her prison.  And it was again this new domestic feeling that never ceased, even when I was far away from Albertine, to bind me to her.”  Once the narrator has control over Albertine their relationship changes and instead of creating a space for a healthy relationship to bloom.  The relationship between the reader and the narrator becomes foggy; Albertine appears statuesque in most scenes that she’s mentioned a character that comes across as fluid between past and present.  The narrator focuses on creating her as a totem of Balbec, an object to be possessed by him and him alone, even if he doesn’t love her.  In this passage there is reference to the Albertine the narrator knew in Balbec, “This Forgotten gesture transformed the body which it animated into that of the Albertine who as yet scarcely knew me.  It restored to Albertine, ceremonious beneath an air of brusqueness, her initial novelty, her mystery even her setting. I saw the sea behind this girl whom I had never seen shake hands with me in this way since I was at the seaside,” maybe it is moments like these that keep the narrator wanting Albertine to himself, he divulges in memory and revels in the possibility of what their relationship could have been, but is too afraid to let her go and experience what it isn’t.

In comparison to the movie, I have little sympathy for Albertine or the narrator.  The film portrayed Albertine in a much more relatable fashion; she became a person with emotions.  Her body language conveyed words that she didn’t have to say, and in the novel we’re left to wonder, even more, what her thoughts on the relationship are.  This possession comes across as way to stifle Albertine’s independence, in both the film and the novel.  Albertine was introduced to us in Balbec as this unattainable woman that the narrator was immensely focused on.  The narrator has always been interested in distance, romanticizing something and focusing more on the fantasy rather the reality of situations.  The series of events are often blurry, not disjointed, but hard to grasp completely at some times.  I’ve often thought that Proust was so dissatisfied with his own life that he had to impose his own insecurities on the characters he creates.

After the brief farewell between the narrator and Albertine, he leaves and is about to hail a cab when he runs into Morel.  Morel is sobbing over having left his wife or something, either way it is mentioned later that he had asked his betrothed to procure women for him, “But as soon as he had gone a little too far in his attempts at rape, and especially when he suggested to his betrothed that she might make friends with other girls whom she would then procure for him, he had met with a resistance that had enraged him.”  Morel’s relationship is quite different than the relationship portrayed between Albertine and the narrator.  Morel is facing hardships in his relationship because of overt sexuality, where as the narrator is in a relationship that involves very little to no sexual contact at all.  This might have been used as a framing mechanism for Morel or simply to introduce him and his relation to Jupien and Charlus.  Morel’s relationship is portrayed in an opposite fashion than the narrators, yet the narrator can be there to comfort him and also judge him.

What was a woman’s social and political role in twentieth century France?  Is this novel supposed to portray the relationship between women and men, how stifled women were at the time?  There is a constant general fear that the male characters have, and that is that the women they love are sleeping with other women.  It seems that all of Proust’s male characters have a fear that their partners are having sexual relations with other women.  Maybe in twentieth century France this was seen as the ultimate form of independence and Proust is trying to convey the relationship and fear of women becoming independent.

 

 

BRANDON FORTNER ROUGH DRAFT

May 7, 2015 /

Brandon Fortner

ROUGH DRAFT

 

“As I said earlier this evening; all good things must come to an end, but Brandon Fortner never comes to an end,” I tipped the cup upside down and let all of the cider fall dramatically to the ground, cheers.  Those were the last words I said during our, “friends and family,” picnic on the last day of Teen Council.  I had successfully become the sex knowledge master that I had been striving to be for years.  College was ahead of me and I had one last fun high school summer with my friends.  This part is the end though, and the full story starts with an interview and some crazy-fun kids who made me extremely nervous.

I was covering my booty, pretending to be the pokemon Charmander hiding its tail from the rain.  The current members of Teen Council looked at me, judging my performance and laughing.  Teen Council is a group of high school students that work for Planned Parenthood and go around schools within their community to teach comprehensive sexual education to their peers.  The Charmander charade was part of the interview process.  Teen Council was a club that I believed to be the most cool, ultimate, badass, liberal sex club ever.  This highly exclusive club had been an interest for me ever since they barged into my physical education class and showed everyone pictures of vaginas.  Not just any old healthy vagina either, vaginas that were affected by venereal diseases.  From the moment I saw the first afflicted vagina I knew that Teen Council needed me to be the herald of reproductive care.  I fantasized about being in their place, walking through the halls throwing condoms in everyone’s faces.  I was very dramatic back then.  Not to mention the members who were teaching the class totally ripped apart the sexual education that our textbooks were trying to teach us. Instead of saying, “Don’t have sex,” we were told by the Teen Council members, “Abstinence is a great way to prevent pregnancy, STDs and STIs but it isn’t what works best for everyone here are some other ways to prevent this from happening to you.”

At the age of fourteen the only thing running through your mind is sex, appearance, music, fun, drugs, and popularity.  This may not apply to everyone, but I thought at the time that it was fairly universal.  My life needed to be affected by as many things as possible; I was desperate for change and hungry for distinction.  That one class in a sense changed my life, without it I wouldn’t have become a member of Teen Council, and then decided to go to college and ultimately become a teacher.  To be completely honest I didn’t do much teaching while I was in Teen Council, it appeared   scary and intimidating.  In retrospect I wish that I would have tried to take advantage of this opportunity because I was in a role that really went against what the dominant narrative wanted adolescents to understand.  This was what was so appealing to me about going into teaching, I had the opportunity to change peoples lives, which sounded like a worthy enough career choice.

There was a little welcoming meeting that we were told to bring our parents to so we could be introduced to the new facilitator.  Mother and I hopped into whatever sedan she was driving at the time and motored on over to the Shelton Planned Parenthood.  I opened the completely blacked out door and entered the hallowed lobby that would soon become the den of all reproductive care and knowledge that I would acquire.  For the real Teen Council meetings we entered through a less grand side door of the building.  My mother and I sat in our chairs and she attempted to talk to me but I mildly ignored her, I hated my mother at the time and thought that she was a huge bitch, but in reality my mother is a bad bitch (all respect meant).  It came time for everyone to, “get to know each other,” we each shared where we were from and then we also had to say something that we liked about the person who came with us.  I cant quite remember what my mother said, I’m sure it was something very similar to what the other mothers had said about their children.  I remember specifically saying in a very bored and monotone voice, “My mother loves all of her children but sometimes…” my mother had cut me off and said, “Sometimes I can love them too much.”  We looked like such idiots, I love my mom.

Deep Memory

April 23, 2015 /

I was aware of what was going on and I knew how important this was to me.  Every person in school that I thought was, 1″cool,” was in Teen council.  This program represented the very essence of cool.  It was within this group that the seniors I was most intensely obsessed with were involved.  These seniors were those untouchable and smug looking people who appeared to be trying really hard not to be associated with the rest of the student body. It was these same students who were part of the extremely exclusive Planned Parenthood Program; Teen Council.  My obsession with this program was rather intense, I applied to be a member of Teen Council all four years of high school.

 

 

So there I was, pretending to be Charmander while the current Teen Council members evaluated me for my aptitude towards becoming a peer educator.  The interview process was rather silly, I felt that the questions had little to do with reproductive rights or whether or not I was qualified to be a part of the program.  Regardless I was accepted and became a member.  I found out that the group was quite different that what I had first thought.

 

 

I was accepted in the Spring and started in the fall, there was a retreat that we all went on that I remember the most.  I was rather shy during the retreat, immediately we were separated into two groups; the people who were already in Teen Council the year before and then the newcomers.  I felt very out of place at first, that I didn’t belong there.  We did trust and team building exercises all day long and then that night we all sat around the campfire sharing intimate stories.  I shared my story of sexuality, sexual orientation and myself.

 

 

Kevin and I were the two most out of the closet kids in high school.  We were often grouped together and many people thought that we were a couple including my parents.  Kevin was a symbol to me, a symbol of survival as a gay teen as well as a conduit of confidence.  When we were together, we felt safe, untouchable and utterly chic.  Yet our relationship caused a distance between everyone in my life.  I shared mine and Kevin’s story of ultimate high school friendship and how it helped me to claim my sexuality and push through the woes and hardships of adolescence.

 

 

What I shared with the rest of the Teen Council members wasn’t about one specific event, it was more about my current situation in life.  Sharing my story had caused an emotional reaction in myself and others, we were all left in tears.  As my story ended and I looked at everyone else a great fear had set within me.  I had never cried in front of strangers before, I immediately felt awkward and spoiled the event.  In retrospect the scary part was the relief I felt after sharing my life with random strangers.  There was a space created that made me extremely vulnerable but also excited.

 

 

That summer retreat was empowering and awakening.  I experienced for the first time what being in a close, tight-knit community was like.  Ever since that retreat ended I’ve longed to go back, to experience that summer again.  I craved real human connection, vulnerability and emotional sensuality.

M E T H

April 14, 2015 /

Yesterday she celebrated her one month of sobriety and today she celebrates her birthday.  My friend has always thrived in a world separate from mine that I couldn’t understand.  She was a person who shirked responsibility and pursued moments that would bring temporary satisfaction.  It always seemed like she was hurting herself, whether that was her struggle with anorexia or her battle with drug addiction.  I sat face to face with the young woman who had been absent from my life for a whole year.

She speaks in a British-American hybrid accent.  The porch light accentuates her cheekbones and her smile excites me.  Her story began with giving up her drug addiction, finally saying she had had enough.  She gave up pursuing the high to better her life and become sober.  My friend has always been an enigma to me, even though i consider us close.  There’s this apprehension that sets in whenever I see her, this time my apprehension was gone rather quickly.  This was the most transparent and honest form of her that I had ever seen.  She was finally alive, and I felt relieved to see her genuinely smile and accept her shortcomings.

“Someones calling me,” she picked up her phone and put it on speaker.  Her friend from treatment had relapsed and needed someone to be there for her. “Lets do our gratefuls,” this was an exercise that my friend had done in treatment,  it was where you would name three things that you were grateful for.  As they both shared, I was shocked at how simple the things they were grateful for were.

Emily has transformed.

Turning Point

April 10, 2015 /

At the age of fifteen I was stuck between wanting profound individuality and longing for a community to be involved in. The friends that I did have were not at all close to me and I would never hang out with them outside of school. It was as if we were with each other just to make the unsettling loneliness we all felt a bit more bearable. I had signed up for a drama class that year and was looking forward to being able to give directing a try, it hadn’t occurred to me before I registered for the class that I would be acting, not directing. Directing had interested me at that time due to my obsession with Tarentino films, and watching the Independent Film Channel. The Independent Film Channel had movies and shows that acted outside of conventionality, either in the way it was written, shot or the fact that these movies were made on such a low budget. This channel offered something that made me feel different, unique, distinct and intellectual, it was something that no one else could grasp and something that only I could understand. That fascination for film wouldn’t translate into the stage that, would soon, envelope my whole teenage existence.
The first day of drama class there was a woman who dramatically entered from stage left, she was small and pretty, thin and sassy. She began with a brief acting exercise that required us to walk across the stage. In retrospect it sounds simple, but at the time that was beyond my capabilities, the whole class was whispering wildly behind the curtain fighting over whom would go first. There was this general fear to walk across the stage and be evaluated by an audience of one, that intimidating drama teacher. After some heated whispers and laughable name calling I emerged victorious and was the last person to run across the stage. That was the beginning, the first time I had ever stepped foot on the stage that would become my place of refuge for the next three years of my life. I had no interest in acting before I arrived in the first day of class, yet it was in that class that acting gave me recognition, where my emotions were validated and respected. I believed that I had found the place where I was allowed to belong. As the months progressed I began to shed the shy skin that had been suffocating me and was born anew.
The thin and sassy drama teacher had in many ways over the course of that class become a maternal mentor and confidante. It was in her that I placed all trust, and her opinion which I held the highest. I registered for the musical theater class that she would be directing and teaching. This class was what the sole purpose of my existence became; I was obsessed with musicals even though I found the material in most of them to be of very little interest to me. My friends at the time were all very interested in the musicals whose music seemed to haunt my thoughts and whose themes seemed trite. Identifying with the musical we were performing wasn’t the point of the class though; I had joined to further create myself, to allow my identity to evolve.
The theater became a symbol, it was my mother and I was its child. We were close friends yet distant enemies; the stage had this allure and mystique. It had this strange power over me and threw me into a wild addiction. There was a strong craving for applause, for seeing the teary faces of my parents and to be loved by everyone in the room for a complete moment. I was created on that stage; the old person that used to inhabit my body was gone. I feared what the future would hold when I would have to leave the stage. The community that I had longed to find supported my individuality and fostered self-growth. Most of all I emerged believing in myself and my ability to understand the world as a human being; I overcame the struggles of shyness and had a genuine excitement to meet new people and understand them. As I’ve grown older many of these personality traits have changed and I’ve most certainly become more reserved, there is no way that I could ever forget what that drama class had done for me though. That first walk across the stage was the experience I had been longing for. It’s exactly like jumping into water, at first it’s cold, but after a while you adjust.

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The Evergreen State College
Olympia, Washington

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