doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
Archive for May, 2006
hiding places
0I wrote about hiding under my bed in Florida. I had an imaginary friend that I visited with under my bed.
In San Diego, it was different. I didn't have a hiding place in the house.
I had a hiding place under the house.
It was dark and musty. It was probably full of mouse droppings and what-not but I didn't care. It was my place to hide away from it all.
My brother would crawl under there with me. We'd play with dolls and cars. We'd talk. We'd get dirty.
We'd hide away from the world, creating our own that was much better than anything outside of that crawl space.
considering…
0
How closely do you consider the words that you use in your blog? Or your e-mail? Or your IM? Or in your handwritten letters?
I think that in each of these cases, you might consider your word choices a bit differently.
I know that I think about what I’m going to write in a handwritten letter because it takes time. I don’t want to mess it up and have to start over, wasting a piece of paper.
In IM, I shoot things off and then think later. In e-mail, depending on who it is going to, I may shoot it off – but if it’s a serious work situation, I think about it carefully, usually letting it sit in my draft box for a little while before sending it.
I usually contemplate what I’m going to write in my blog for a day or so and then put it down here.
I am thinking about this subject this morning, though, because of something I heard on NPR.
I heard 2 different reporters talking about the shake up in the Blair administration. One reporter said that Blair was bringing trusted people home to be closer to him to assist him. She said that Jack Straw was coming home from foreign service to help Blair with the Parliament.
The next reporter stated, “Straw Replaced!”
They are two very different connotations. They mean very different things.
People were moved around. Straw’s position is now different than it was yesterday. Was his role as Foreign Secretary filled by someone else? Yes (Margaret Beckett, btw, the first woman to fill that position). Was he ousted? Not in any way. He has a new position. That’s not being replaced. That’s being moved.
I think it’s important to think critically about the way we use words. We may say one thing and mean another entirely.
Thursday May 4, 2006
0
Originally posted on my main site: life inchoate.
It’s a lot harder to write about my childhood than I thought it would be. There are things that I don’t necessarily want to remember or to even talk about.
I think, though, that the exercise of writing white trash girl will be a good one. It will allow me to explore some things that I’ve needed to explore for a very long time.
Maybe it will help me understand why I don’t have a good relationship with my parents (which hurts my heart nearly every day of my life). Maybe it will help me understand why I am the way I am. Maybe it will help me understand other people better.
I don’t know if it will do any of these things. And maybe that’s why it is hard.
–
On another note, it seems funny that I’m saying all of these things in a public space. I tend to keep things close to me and only share with those I trust.
I didn’t want this blog (or any of mine, for that matter) to turn into a person diary. That’s not what it is about. And I don’t want to perpetuate that notion that blogs are personal journals.
To me, they are so much more. They give us the ability to connect with others, to share like experiences or to learn of another way of looking at life.
They allow us to educate. They allow us to venture into new realms. They allow us to learn.
I think they are so much more than personal journals (or diaries – what an icky word to me – it makes me think of being 12 and having a locked diary that held secrets only 12-year-olds understand).
What is a blog to you? What does blogging mean to you?
on writing
0
It’s a lot harder to write about my childhood than I thought it would be. There are things that I don’t necessarily want to remember or to even talk about.
I think, though, that the exercise of writing white trash girl will be a good one. It will allow me to explore some things that I’ve needed to explore for a very long time.
Maybe it will help me understand why I don’t have a good relationship with my parents (which hurts my heart nearly every day of my life). Maybe it will help me understand why I am the way I am. Maybe it will help me understand other people better.
I don’t know if it will do any of these things. And maybe that’s why it is hard.
–
On another note, it seems funny that I’m saying all of these things in a public space. I tend to keep things close to me and only share with those I trust.
I didn’t want this blog (or any of mine, for that matter) to turn into a person diary. That’s not what it is about. And I don’t want to perpetuate that notion that blogs are personal journals.
To me, they are so much more. They give us the ability to connect with others, to share like experiences or to learn of another way of looking at life.
They allow us to educate. They allow us to venture into new realms. They allow us to learn.
I think they are so much more than personal journals (or diaries – what an icky word to me – it makes me think of being 12 and having a locked diary that held secrets only 12-year-olds understand).
What is a blog to you? What does blogging mean to you?
on the move
0We weren’t in Florida for too long. Just long enough for my Dad to be in the Navy and for him to get out of it.
We were in California by the time I started kindergarten.
The San Diego I remember seems a lot more like Philadelphia or other eastern cities than a golden, glowing city of California. My school, if I remember it correctly, was a big, dark brick building. We lived in a little house across the way. The house was white. We were on a hill.
We didn’t own it. We rented. Next door were two boys who were slightly older than my brother and I.
There are a few things that I remember about this place. I think most of it has been wiped from my memory. Maybe it was too painful. Maybe it was too long ago. Maybe it just isn’t important.
Those things I do remember, I will share in the following days.
Wednesday May 3, 2006
0
Originally published on my main site: life inchoate
I finally finished my final project for one of my english classes. The music sometimes plays in the movie and sometimes doesn’t so I included an embedded file for the music. I guess I’m not quite geeky enough to make these things work (okay, really I’m new to the whole quicktime thing).
It is quite large. I wanted to make it big enough so the words could be read on an overhead projector. So, it may take some time to load.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
peace
0
Originally published on my main site: life inchoate
I finally finished my final project for one of my english classes. The music sometimes plays in the movie and sometimes doesn’t so I included an embedded file for the music. I guess I’m not quite geeky enough to make these things work (okay, really I’m new to the whole quicktime thing).
It is quite large. I wanted to make it big enough so the words could be read on an overhead projector. So, it may take some time to load.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
peace
0
I finally finished my final project for one of my english classes. The music sometimes plays in the movie and sometimes doesn’t so I included an embedded file for the music. I guess I’m not quite geeky enough to make these things work (okay, really I’m new to the whole quicktime thing).
It is quite large. I wanted to make it big enough so the words could be read on an overhead projector. So, it may take some time to load.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Monday May 1, 2006
0
Originally published on my main site: life inchoate
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery ~
I’m stupid. That’s kind of why I haven’t been writing.
I’m stupid. And I’m hiding out, wondering why I am this way.
Things are going well, life is going good.
I have an office full of co-workers, three women. We’re laughing and talking. One of them says, “Do you want to go to lunch?”
I look at the clock. I’m on the helpline for one more hour. I hate working the helpline but it’s the one necessary evil of my job so I do it – and I try to do it without complaining…but not always so well.
I say I’d like to go but I have to wait for an hour.
I think I was too quiet. They didn’t hear me and I didn’t say anything because I thought they did and were just moving forward.
They all go out.
My feelings are hurt. I really wanted to go. I don’t spend a whole lot of time with people and I can’t always go out because I just can’t afford it. It was payday and I had a little extra money to spare this pay period. I wanted to go.
The group grows. Eventually it is most of the office.
They all leave.
Five minutes later, one of the student workers comes into my office and asks if I want to go to lunch with them. I almost start crying (because I’m a big baby). I ask if they can wait an hour. They didn’t want to and so I told them to go ahead and go.
And my feelings were hurt again – but not nearly as much this time.
I wanted to hang out with the women. I have a hard time with women and I really want to make things work at this job and with these people because I like them.
Everyone comes back and they are all talking about the great lunch they had. I’m upset. I’m hurt. I’m jealous. I growl at someone who tells me that I didn’t want to go because it wasn’t that good (she was joking with me – not trying to hurt my feelings).
Then I say something to the three women. I didn’t want to feel invisible. I wanted them to know that I did want to join them.
Then I’m over it.
But then I feel stupid. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But it was. I don’t know why but it was.
Why did I make such a huge scene about it?
I’m such an idiot. I swear. I have no social skills whatsoever. I don’t even know how to interact with people.
It’s probably a good thing I hang out in my office, quietly avoiding people for the most part.
I don’t know how to deal with them.