doctoral candidate in rhetoric and scientific and technical communication
words
miracles ~ redeux
0Odd thing happened yesterday. I was at the store and picked up a book, Peace Like a River by Leif Enger, and started to read it. Ok, that’s not odd in and of itself. Heh.
This book states, unequivocally, what I meant about miracles. I know, I’ve beaten this horse to pieces. I don’t know what my sudden fascination with miracles is but it is…and now I’m pondering it.
“Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it’s been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally, a clear sunrise after an overcast week — a miracle, people say, as if they’ve been educated from greeting cards. I’m sorry, but nope. Such things are worth our notice every day of the week, but to call them miracles evaporates the strength of the word.
Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature. It’s true: They rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. Lazarus obeying orders and climbing up out of the grave — now there’s a miracle, and you can bet it upset a lot of folks who were standing around at the time. When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. A miracle contradicts the will of earth.
…
Swede said another thing, too, and it rang in me like a bell: No miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here’s what I saw. Here’s how it went. Make of it what you will.
…
I believe I was preserved, through those twelve airless minutes, in order to be a witness, and as a witness, let me say that a miracle is no cute thing but more like the swing of a sword.”
I think that sums it up nicely. I don’t know why miracles are affecting me in this way but I do want answers. Like SummerSong said, she’d want an answer to why something is happening the way it is. I’m the same way.
But I wonder…are there things out there that just happen without explanation?
miracles
0I don’t think I made myself very clear yesterday. I’m thinking this because there is some dispute as to what a miracle is.
While I agree that watching a child being born (especially your own or one close to you), being treated in certain ways, and feeling specific feelings are all daily wonders, they don’t fit the textbook definition of a miracle.
Miracles are once in a lifetime occurrences. They aren’t things that will happen again. They aren’t things that happen on a daily basis (like childbirth).
We can define our own miracles but they wouldn’t necessarily be a miracle in regards to the definition of a miracle.
I wanted to know if you had ever witnessed someone healing another person by the touch of a hand or spontaneous happenings that had no definition.
I don’t know if they exist.
A child is a miracle to us. Yes. But a child is not a miracle to nature. Babies are born every second of every day.
I wanted to hear about miracles that could not be explained by science or human nature. I wanted to know if they exist.
found journaling ~ state
09 years ago
“Found” journaling is finding a word, like placing your finger on a word in a magazine, and writing about it. I write for 10-15 minutes about whatever comes to mind from that word, continuously writing even if it wanders, and post immediately. It’s not about grammar or syntax. It’s about writing and practicing writing.
State
Ok…I admit it. I wandered around to a few of my favorite Xanga sites before writing this morning. Everywhere I turned, I saw this word. State of the Union, State of the Nation, State of the State, state of the economy, on and on ad nauseum.
I don’t talk politics too often here even though I’m pretty involved in them locally. I don’t feel that I’m going to change any minds out there and to rant and rave will only close some avenues that were previously opened.
I did watch the State of the Union address last night. I was not impressed. I felt that on one hand, party lines were being drawn. On another, our President was trying to appeal to to our more environmental side (when he comes from the most polluted state in the nation!!!) and was trying to appease us with his talk of hydrogen cars.
What wasn’t discussed was the state of the union. Does he understand that tens of thousands of people have lost their jobs? That no income tax reduction will help them because they don’t have an income??? Does he understand that layoffs are ongoing? Small businesses are closing left and right. Educational facilities are in dire straits and there is no end in sight. Government programs are being cut and we’re not talking wasteful spending but actual programs that really assist people.
The state of our union, our nation, our nation-state, is bleak. I don’t see an economic upturn in the near future and as far as I can tell, neither do most economic analysts. Our President is the only one who seems to think we’re heading out of this “recession.”
Maybe I’m more sensitive to this because I was recently told that my job may be cut. I work for a college. It’s public sector. Those jobs are usually pretty safe even during economic difficulties. It’s one of the reasons I choose lower paying public sector jobs. There is normally job security. Now, though, our universities and colleges are being asked to cut so much money that layoffs are huge. The local university has layed off so many people that even lower-paying jobs are filled…because people are taking on 2 & 3 jobs to pay the bills.
These are scary times. People are worried. I’m worried.
So, Mr. President, what is the state of our union?
found journaling ~ light
09 years ago
“Found” journaling is finding a word, like placing your finger on a word in a magazine, and writing about it. I write for 10-15 minutes about whatever comes to mind from that word, continuously writing even if it wanders, and post immediately. It’s not about grammar or syntax. It’s about writing and practicing writing.
Light
Funny how this word came up for me today. I was watching Edward Norton on Inside the Actor’s Studio the other day and he said his favorite word is “light.” He said that it’s all-encompassing. It’s energy, tangible and yet not. It surrounds us and is us.
I’ve always thought that I would like to be known for who I am rather than what I am. I think that we humans put far too much emphasis on our physical beings. Having chatted and written in cyberspace for so long, I actually started to feel like I was becoming known for who I am. I like to think of me as energy…light…that goes out to others and seeps in to their consciousness. That I’m in their lives but not obtrusively. I would like to think that I add positiveness to others.
When I think in those terms, I see rays of light (like in Contact or other science fiction genre movies) where we are reaching out to one another through energy.
It’s funny that I think in those terms, I think. I tend to be a creature of darkness. People often walk by my office and comment on the lack of lighting. I’m more comfortable in my “cave” sans lighting. I like working in the dark (well, physical darkness, not literal darkness). During the holidays, you’ll see colorful lights blinking around my whiteboard but otherwise, it’s fairly dark in here. It’s amazing that I have so many plants living given the utter darkness. I think the skylight helps with that, though.
I also saw something on feng shui the other day that said an office with a skylight (and this entire complex has them) is not good because positive thoughts and good energies flow out through the skylight. I wonder if that means I’m doomed. For me, it’s the only natural lighting I get most days. I come in when it’s dark and I often leave when it’s dark.
I’m like a mole…I only come out in the dark. And that’s strange, too, because I absolutely LOVE the sun.
Ahhhh…the sun. It’s turning into a love/hate relationship. I’m in love with the sun. I love the way it feels on my skin. I love the way the air smells on a sunny day, the ways it makes things glow. And now I’m told that I really need to stay out of the sun as much as possible. I live in Arizona, for crying outloud. Granted, I live in the pine-forested mountains but the sun still shines over 350 days of the year here. How in the heck am I supposed to stay out of it? Everything I love to do is in the sun: boating, hiking, biking, hanging out on the lake, gardening. Ok…not everything…I can still read, write, and play on my computer inside. But there is something about sitting in the light of the sun and writing about what I see.
Light…it can be a powerful thing.
i wanna be
0I wanna be a poet -
To wield words like a sword
slicing through rhetoric
cleanly.
I wanna be a writer -
To change opinions with an image
worming into the subconscious
firmly.
I wanna be an artist -
To create worlds as shelter
guarding each soul
fiercely.
I wanna be…
titles
0“‘Lost Illusion’ is the undisclosed title of every novel.”
– André Maurois (1885-1967), [Émile Herzog] French writer, essayist, “Atmosphere of Love,” “The Family Circle”
I’m sitting in my living room looking around and trying to think of topics for my latest journal entry and it hits me. I glance in one direction and I see a book called Eat Mangos Naked by Sark. She’s great. She shares her experiences in fun and silly ways and makes you realize that life doesn’t have to be suffering (despite what the Buddhists may say).
I look in another direction and my eyes fall upon one of my newest acquisitions, The Way to Write for Children by Joan Aiken. This was a true find. I was wandering through the writing section of Bookman’s and happened upon it. Ms. Aiken gives some wonderful insight into finding out if you really want to write for children or about children and the differences between doing so for different ages of children.
The next title that catches my eye is I Don’’t Want to Sleep Tonight by Deborah Norville (of morning news fame). This book is a wonderful adventure into a young child’s experiences with the monsters that live within his room as soon as the lights are turned out. Willow and I have read this so many times that she practically knows it by heart.
At the same time that I stumbled across the Aiken book, two other books fell into my hands. One of the books I had been looking for and was pleased to find it. The other, by the same other, was a bonus buy. Writing Down the Bones and Wild Minds: Living the Writer’s Life by Natalie Goldberg are books that make me smile just to look at them. It is possible to earn a living writing. It may not happen for me but it is possible. Books, in my house, are even more numerous than plants (and that’s saying a lot).
I think about what makes a book.< A title is important. It attracts a reader like the green of a leaf attracts a gardener. Use a word one way and you may get one type of reader. Use it another and you may attract a different type of reader. What makes people decide on the titles they've chosen? Is it the editor that has come up with it or did the writer of this particular book win out?
I've been thinking about titles even more lately because I have to come up with enough pieces for a chapbook sometime in November and I will have to title the book. The only thing I can think of to call my work is The Bottom of the Barrel.
I thought that beginning at the bottom of the barrel for my current writing life only allows me to work my way up. There is nowhere to go but up. That may be a good place to start. What if that is too pessimistic, though? Maybe I should be more optimistic.
I could choose something like Riding on a Cloud but that may seem too “out there.†I thought of Forget~Me~Not and like it because it has so many connotations. Cliche’, cliche’, cliche’. Ugh.
Sometimes the writing is the easy part.
The hard part is coming up with something that will draw the reader in to actually read what I’ve written.
a response to violence
0During the last month, there have been 3 attacks in the Los Angeles area that have been either anti-gay or anti-Jew motivated. As a project for a class, I wrote a response from one victim, a 55-year-old West Hollywood man, to his assailant.
–
I know why you do this. I frighten you. You are afraid you know me, that you may be like me, that someone you love may be like me. This frightens you. You don’t see me as someone who simply loves another person. You see me as someone who loves other men. That, to you, is wrong. You don’t have any logical reasons for this fear or this feeling that what I do is evil but you continue to hold onto these feelings because to let go is even scarier for you.
What would your friends think if you ignored me? What would they do to you if you actually stuck up for me? Would you be next? Would they attack you? Would they beat you senseless as you have done to me? Are you as afraid of your friends as I’ve become of you?
Do you understand what you’ve done? You can’t change who I am, whom I love. Are you even sure of whom I love? That doesn’t matter, though, does it? What matters is that I will not walk alone on MY streets anymore, thanks to you. I will constantly look over my shoulder even when with a group of friends or my partner. I will hear footsteps where there are none, see shadows where none exist. I will shake at the thought of having to venture out at night when my partner has a cold to get him something to help with his stuffy head. He will not know the fear I have but I will still have it.
You have transferred, shared your fear. You have passed it on. You are afraid of me and now I am afraid of you. You have seen to that. I do not fear you because you are different. I do not fear you because you define something I don’t understand. I fear you because you want to hurt me. I fear you because you stalked me and beat me.
I wonder how you’re feeling now. Can you believe that? I’m the one who has been hurt and I’m wondering how you’re feeling. I’m wondering if you feel regret, sick to your stomach, remorse over what you’ve done.
I wonder if you’ll do it again. I wonder if next time someone will end up dead because there won’t be a kind taxi driver who will stop and help out the next victim.
I wonder if you’ll be caught. I wonder if you want to be caught.
I wonder about justice and if there is any.
I wonder if life will ever go back to normal for me.
I wonder if you’re thinking of me.
I’m thinking of you.
eh…what?!?
0A note before I go into my main blog…I will get to your sites. It’s been an insane week with school and I’m barely getting by. I’ve been copy and pasting journal entries here that I’ve been writing for a class…two birds with one stone, I guess. They are written half with my class in mind and half with y’all in mind. I’m just sorry I haven’t been giving as much as you all have been giving me lately.
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Logophile or Philologist?
“Quoting: the act of repeating erroneously the words of another.”
Ambrose Gwinett Bierce (1842-1914), American writer
I love words. I can’t imagine a language that wasn’t living, that didn’t allow new words to be introduced to it every single day. I think that English is an amazing language because it is forever growing despite some very good efforts by “purists.”
“Zeno used to say that he had two kinds of disciples: one that he called philologos, curious to learn things, who were his favorites; and the other logophilos, who were concerned only with the words.”
Montaigne
A philologist is defined as someone who studies literature and like disciplines. However, if the Greek is broken down, it means the love of learning and literature, words and speech. (http://webster.com)
Logophilia. Now, that’s a word for you. It sounds like a powerful word. George Thompson (http://omega.cohums.ohio-state.edu:8080/hyper-lists/classics-l/98-08-01/0379.html) says that logophilia is not meant to replace philologia but, instead, to name a person who goes overboard in his/her love of words. He says, “Post-modernists use the term ‘logophilia’ to refer to an almost pathological “love” of words, that is an urge to see secret meanings, messages, encodings, in texts.
A pathological love of words. That sounds ominous, doesn’t it? I use words for evil. Mwah-hah-hah. I love words. Simple as that.
I subscribe to Webster’s Word of the Day. Sometimes they are words I know. Other times, though, they are words that I’ve never heard, have forgotten, or am hearing in a new way. I like the way some of them roll off of my tongue: kibitzer (one who looks on and often offers unwanted advice or comment especially at a card game; broadly : one who offers opinions), mordacious (1 : biting or given to biting *2 : biting or sharp in manner or style : caustic), longanimity (a disposition to bear injuries patiently : forbearance), abecedarian (*1 a : of or relating to the alphabet b : alphabetically arranged 2 : rudimentary), tatterdemalion (1 *a : ragged or disreputable in appearance b : being in a decayed state or condition : dilapidated 2 : beggarly, disreputable), chary (discreetly cautious: as a : hesitant and vigilant about dangers and risks *b : slow to grant, accept, or expend), pogonip (a dense winter fog containing frozen particles that is formed in deep mountain valleys of the western U.S.), revenant (one that returns after death or a long absence), thimblerig (*1 : to cheat by trickery 2 : to swindle by thimblerig), and epigone (follower, disciple; also : an inferior imitator). Aren’t they beautiful? Don’t they entice you to say them, to savor them, to allow them to roll off of your tongue in some poetic way?
Ok, ok…I may have gone a bit too far putting all of those here. They were sitting in my e-mail begging to be used and this was the best place to use them. Afterall, when am I, really, going to be able to say that I was thimblerigged? And how perverse does that sound when you say it like that??? 
The point of this is that language is powerful. It’s real. It’s growing, it’s changing, it’s moving, it’s surrounding us with all of its beauty.
I belong to a group of women in an online chat. We call ourselves wordsluts. I think that explains it better than anything else ever could.
“The next best thing to being witty one’s self, is to be able to quote another’s wit.”
Christian Nestell Bovee
a million stories…
0“There are a million stories in the naked city**”, or so the quote goes. From the moment you awake and hear the birds fluttering and singing, to the minute you open your eyes and see the spider in the corner of the room, or swing yourself out of bed and firmly place your feet on carpeting, hardwood floors, grass, or forest bedding, you’ve got a story to tell.
Don’t tell me you can’t write here. Don’t tell me you don’t have the words. Don’t tell me you don’t have the stories or the skills or the correct grammar to write here.
Don’t tell me your life is boring and you have nothing to share. Don’t tell me that no one would be interested.
All of us have stories. We have the skills to tell our stories because they need to be in our words. Someone will be interested and it’s probably someone you never dreamed would be interested in something you have to say. I don’t need perfect grammar to understand your heart. I don’t need to see excellent writing skills to know that your soul is being shared and you need someone to listen.
You’ve got a story. Each one of us has stories to share. Something is happening to you right now and you have a story to share.
I want to hear it. Tell me a story.
–
**I did try to find out who coined that thought but it’s used widely by so many that I can’t seem to find the original author or speaker of the phrase.
blog-o’blog
0To follow up on yesterday’s David Weinberger post, I went to the ultimate of online reference sources, Webopedia and asked the oh-so-wise search box what blog is (even though I actually knew the answer, I wanted to to feel somewhat justified in knowing that my knowledge was supported – how’s that for circular thinking? Heh).
So, what Webopedia says is this:
blog
Jargon. (n.) Short for Web log, a blog is a Web page that serves as a publicly-accessible personal journal for an individual. Typically updated daily, blogs often reflect the personality of the author.
(v.) To author a Web log.
There we have it, a blog is a web log, an online journal, a diary, a source of consternation on some days and plain silliness on others.
I have to admit that I like the word “blog.” To me, it is something fun, something different, a little bit more “cutting edge” than simply saying “I journal.” Ok, ok…I’ve journaled ever since I could write, I think. I have a million and one half-finished journals around my house. If anyone ever finds them all, they’ll wonder what kind of a disjointed person I am (or was). By blogging, however, I think I’m kept more on track. You actually get to see a timely entry that is kept up in an organized manner (calendar-wise), and is truly spontaneous. I write what I’m feeling at that moment…and don’t have to sit down to really think about what is going to come up.
Yep…I blog.