WRITING: Highs are Higher than the Lows are Low

A Willie Wisdom (taken from a song he sings, “Reasons to Drink”, I think it’s called, and I apologize for not giving full credit here) goes something like this, “The lows are always lower than the highs are high.”

There is no doubt about it: Mood definitely affects writing, as far as both time put in, and tone of what is produced. Being a natural Scorpio personality, I’m flyin’or divin’ on a regular basis. In a past life, a loon.

Used to love to ride the rollercoasters, both literally and emotionally. Not no more. It’s taking a toll, although I do find that some of my best writing is at the peak of either scale. It’s been a rough summer here, events cutting into one of the most beautiful seasons we’ve had weather-wise, and unfortunately, there’s still going to be some worry-time ahead.

One of the most useful tools a writer can have is setting a mood for writing based upon personal space and what is happening within it; channeling the emotion into a fictional world where he can vent, create, and in effect, change story by writing his own ending. If a story can be manipulated into a happy ending, reality takes on a different shade by the narrative produced. If the worst possible scenario can be projected as story, the reality is also changed as if it has already been experienced and serves as a road to recovery.

This entering into one’s own fictional world may be unavoidable. Maybe it’s therapy. Or perhaps, as a professor and student of narrative in all forms has stated, it is madness. Maybe it gives one back a sense of control that seems out of reach in a physical world of phones, news, television, and computer screens that blast out truth—truth as is perceived and scribed as of the moment.

Moments are just that; moments pass in a flash. What we’re left with is, and always will be, our perception that colors memory that guides our lives.

Maybe life is all just that. A series of moments that require decisions on paths taken that wind precariously onward. Maybe life can best be described as—Interactive Fiction.

Posted in WRITING | 1 Comment

NEW MEDIA: Weblogging

Aha! The elusive Neha has Wanderlusted away to another blog. Of Wanderings and Such has been created as a working portfolio and exercise for her classes at Seton Hill. Because of her weblogging experience and expertise, she was asked to do a presentation on blogging, and this has become her first posting at this particular weblog.

Visit, read, comment, and yes, you may annoy her there as well.

Posted in NEW MEDIA | 1 Comment

NEW MEDIA: The Technicalities of Creativity

Listen, I wanna tell ya,

Previous post be damned; time as well! Maybe Statistics will put a crimp in my creative narratival life, but the New Media Course I’ve just started definitely will not. It has, perhaps, just gotten me fired up all over again. In fact, it offers so many new directions that I may just drown in a poetic sea of overindulgence. Technical, yes. But as I’ve learned from the learning (post below re Who IS the author?), the understanding does not necessarily detract from the flow, the excitement, the satisfaction.

One of the lectures included reference to websites such as Amazon.com that learns enough about the user to present information geared to that user alone. This ties in with a post I was planning to write this morning about Bloglines’ Recommended Listing which it offers on a regular basis. I questioned how, from my list of feeds, they came up with Dilbert.com. While I have no cartoon or similar sites listed, Dilbert is, in fact, one of my favorites. However, I don’t read it online as yet.

Our first exercise is to read a newspaper media and corresponding online presentation and to create a narrative about the experience of each and both. This could be extremely interesting if you remain aware enough of what you are physically, mentally, and emotionally experiencing at the time. It’s a story of story, carefully drawn.

With a purple crayon.

————–

Final Exercise:  The Future of New Media  (added 1/15/05)

Transitioning

1865

            The sun slipped into the horizon, and so they lit the oil lamps, just a few.  The room, as it grew darker seemed to calm the still, thin figure in the bed.  The woman lie with just a light cotton sheet smoothed over and tucked loose around her body, her nightgown freshly replaced again from one well-drenched with perspiration.  Her auburn hair uncoiled lay like a sunset around the white porcelain face, and she murmured softly in her sleep every now and then.  Her daughter—only one of three who still lived close enough to be here with her since the doctor said she’d had a stroke and later caught the fever—looked up from her chair beside the bed, lay aside her book and reached for sponge and water from the bowl.  Gently patting the cooling water on her mother’s face and neck, a little on the delicate hands that sat like pearls inside the creamy lace of frilly cuffs.  She worried, wished her older sisters were here soon, though one might never make it home at all in time, she lived too far.  From

Ohio

she would be leaving on the train perhaps tomorrow, since the news here from

Boston

would surely just have reached her this morning by telegraph and she would have to find someone to watch the children.  The daughter put aside the sponge and wiped her hands dry, picked up the sterling silver hairbrush and with loving care, she brushed the auburn locks and tried to comfort.  Inside the woman’s fevered mind, she knew one thing; she wanted to hear her daughter sing a lullaby as she herself had sung so many times.  She wanted to sleep, and hear the lovely sound of her daughter’s voice just one more time.  She tried to say the words; they came out in a garbled whisper.  Her daughter stopped the brushing in response, stroked her mother’s hair by hand, then thinking it was disturbing, slowly stepped back and sat and watched all through the night.

            Just before the dawn, the woman, in her forty-fifth year of life, drew one long last shuddering breath and died.

———-

            In 1865, travel was by railroad or by horse and wagon.  The woman’s doctor might have lived a few miles away.  The roads were never shoveled in the winter, and oftentimes it might take days to cut a path with horses’ hooves and wagon wheels alone.  Though people often settled in their own hometowns their lifetime through, they often left because of marriage or adventure.  Handwritten letters crossed the country, borne again by train and riders to the outlying lands of the still unsettled West.  People traveled not by air, but by the sea for months to

Europe

and the foreign lands, remaining for a half a year and more.  And letters crossed the seas as well on ships between the continents and news from home was often a few months old.  But a primitive internet system called the telegraph had been in use for over a decade, and was transcontinental by 1861 (inventors.about.com).  It would be another few decades before the telephone came into use, invented in 1877 and patented by Alexander Graham Bell.

            And still, a woman—one of many, many people—died at an age we would consider shamefully young today; because of the lack of medical knowledge and technology, because of different lifestyle, and often, just because of a deep snow. 

            Perhaps the biggest tragedy is not in death, for we all face with certainty this ending of the living flesh, but in the dying and one’s last moments of clear thought.  Our desires often, as in this case, are not acknowledged or transcoded to make the minutes pleasant as they tick away.

1945

It is on the front lines in the European arena, a young American soldier, blonder than the enemy, lies groaning in a fitful sleep that’s leading into death.  A white-capped nurse who’s just a few years older, wrings out a cloth and softly sponges his face.  In his mind he’s home in

Minnesota

, necking on the porch with Emmylou.  His groans the nurse mistakes as response to painful wounds not meant to heal.  He is far beyond the feeling of his torn, near bloodless body, and the sweet scent he smells is woman and he cannot help the little bit of life left that rises up in passion as he dreams.  The young nurse is embarrassed, but she gently tucks the blankets around in the little comfort she can give, but as he spends, his life is spent with this last wash of warmth before he slips away.

———-

            The planes that promised to bring society together brought with them all the evils of human nature at its worst.  The planes that crossed the oceans and zoomed low over Europe since 1939 carried soldiers, fighters, and many, many bombs.  In the fields the troops communicate by radio.  Motor cars, trains and trolleys cross the countryside and travel is a quick and easy thing.  Life itself is easy.  Except in wartime, or still as always, in the dying.  Within another decade, people will enjoy movies and “live entertainment” in their homes via television, a miracle affordable by most within a decade of its debut.  Still, it is one-way communication. 

Immediately following the end of the war, Vannevar Bush writes an article for The Atlantic Monthly Journal entitled, “As We May Think” that basically points the great minds that helped technologically to win the war, in another direction.  His paper builds from the simple idea of a gathering and storing of all knowledge to date into a database format that is easily accessible to both promote connection of the fields of study and to continue the teamwork that the war effort necessitated.  As he states, “The summation of human experience is being expanded at a prodigious rate, and the means we use for threading through the consequent maze to the momentarily important item is the same as was used in the days of square-rigged ships (Bush, handout).”

While considering the progression from pencil and paper to photography and printing machines; and with a clear understanding of the techniques as well as the interrelation between methods, BushVannevar Bush (is considered) the pivotal figure in hypertext research. His conception of the Memex introduced, for the first time, the idea of an easily accessible, individually configurable storehouse of knowledge. Douglas Engelbart and Ted Nelson were directly inspired by his work, and, in particular, his groundbreaking article, "As We May Think." (Bush, Virginia Edu.) 

Vannevar Bush was a genius of foresight.  What he envisioned became inspiration in a multitude of paths.  This statement in the article has led to the path I follow in this paper: 

“The impulses which flow in the arm nerves of a typist convey to her fingers the translated information which reaches her eye or ear, in order that the fingers may be caused to strike the proper keys.  Might not these currents be intercepted either in the original form in which information is conveyed to the brain, or in the marvelously metamorphosed form in which they then proceed to the hand?” (Bush, handout).

And further—beyond the individual himself to reach in and control one’s environment by harnessing those currents? 

            Two decades later, people are being trained in computer technology.  Huge Hal-like computers are housed in dust-free rooms within most major companies.  Reports are spit out monthly that weigh a few pounds, put together in books 11” x 18” by up to 3” thick.  Secretaries and analysts go through the accordion style pages to glean out information pertinent to their department’s needs. 

            “200l: A Space Odyssey” is released as a movie at the same time the book is being written.  “HAL 9000 is a highly advanced super-computer and the nervous system of a Jupiter-bound spaceship.  But when HAL goes quietly berserk and starts killing the astronauts, the situation is no longer ideal” (Degani  3).  This was one of the first movies to reveal the computer as a storagehouse of knowledge (remember Bush [not G.W.] ), and capable of running things without further human input.  Half the world is frightened by the power; the other half is excited at its prospects.

1985

            The hospital is one of the finest in the country, the woman knows this, and yet she worries as she watches her eight-year-old daughter being wheeled out of the emergency room to head to surgery.  In the next room over lies the man who drunkenly drove into her and sent her body flying twenty feet into the air, the nurses say.  For another hour she tells herself that everything’s all right, and even when her husband arrives, she’s unrealistically calm and cheerful.  She’d asked to be allowed into the room to hold her daughter’s hand, and was denied although the child tried hard to nod her head and plead to let her stay. But no one noticed, no one saw a movement or a sign, and so they whisked her away, put tubes inside and wires and things and gave her something intravenously that finally took away the goodbye to her mother that she tried so hard to say.  Within an hour, the doctor came out and stood there solemnly, “I’m so sorry…”

            Within a few minutes, a pleasant looking middle-aged woman enters the room to speak with the family.  She offers her sincere sympathy, then comes to the point of her visit.  Organ donation is a rudimentary system of harvesting livers, hearts, corneas, skin, whatever can be salvaged from the dying and dead to transplant and live on in another human body.

                                                           ————

By 1985, people grew quite used to carrying around their licenses with the indication of “Organ Donor” marked as an obvious guide to emergency room staff to maintain circulation and keep the organs alive in anyone coming through their doors—despite the critical condition of the patient as a whole.  As more and more body parts become recyclable, one begins to wonder:  What if the entire list of parts can be reassembled into another whole?

Computer technology has advanced to the point of being user friendly, and while it is still uncommon, many people have them in their homes.  They are not afraid of them anymore.  From the flat text bi-colored DOS screen, people can work—and play, at simple hypertext games.  Still very un-Hal-like, computers are used as tools.  Technology, however is entering the medical field, and pacemakers, artificial hearts eventually replace certain transplant operations.

“In 1982, a team led by William DeVries of the

University

of

Utah

implanted the Jarvik-7 into a patient named Barney Clark. For various medical reasons, a transplant operation was not an option for

Clark

. Therefore, he was a prime candidate for a permanent artificial heart. He survived with the Jarvik-7 for 112 days” (inventors.about.com).

Two decades later, the theory and the mechanical heart are perfected to allow much better odds.

2005

            The old woman sits at the dining room table picking black pepper out of a white sea of mashed potatoes with a spoon.  Next to her, a woman coaxes her elderly father into “trying” a sip of Ensure because he’d “never tasted it”, over and over and over again. After two hours, an aide comes by and picks up the untouched meals.  The woman lives from minute to minute and loses count of each.  Sometimes, she is twenty, and sometimes she is eighty years old.  It confuses her that the people she lives with aren’t her children, don’t remember that she has no children, that they even know her name.  She finds them rude.  She likes the muppets, but she doesn’t know why anyone is laughing at the little movie on the screen.  She only wants to go home, her mother is most likely worried, not knowing where she is.

———–

            Technology has advanced its pace tenfold in comparison to its beginnings.  There are so many people involved and it’s been carried in all directions— as Vannevar Bush had suggested was necessary.  To allow access, to prevent the loss of information or the doubling effort and thus wasted time:

            “In the 1870s, two inventors Elisha Gray and Alexander Graham Bell both independently designed devices that could transmit speech electrically (the telephone). Both men rushed their respective designs to the patent office within hours of each other, Alexander Graham Bell patented his telephone first. Elisha Gray and Alexander Graham Bell entered into a famous legal battle over the invention of the telephone, which

Bell

won” (inventors.about.com).

            Computers are now common and globally utilized by a large percentage of the population from the comfort of their own homes.  The internet, a relatively new system of communication, has encroached on the areas previously monopolized by the use of the telephone, postal service, shopping malls, movie theaters, recording industry, game playing, education, and has infiltrated the medical field in that operations using lasers or minuscule implements are performed non-invasively with surgeons watching a computer monitor that reveals by camera the inside of their patient.  So varied is the performance capabilities of computer technology, that a computer virus attack can halt industry along with the everyday personal user and the government itself. 

            And yet, while people have the benefit of medical technology through monitoring, pacemakers, artificial limbs, life saving and extending equipment, they will still die.  And most often, without being in control of how they will do it. 

            Neurofeedback, and the technique of electroencephalography are being researched with some promise. By studying the brain waves, some advances are made in the understanding and thus the possible interface between man and computer.  Articles begin to appear—both in text and online—about the great potential of the brain to overcome physical damage or affliction.  “Professor Kostov’s Mind Reading Machine” was published in 1998, and besides the article having a really neat title, it indicates a good measure of the power of mind over matter:

            “A couple of times each week, Mr. Killick wheels into the

University

of

Alberta

‘s Laboratory for Advanced Assistive Technology. There he is fitted with a skullcap containing 28 electrodes, and tries to operate a computer with his mind. So far, thanks to a program designed by Professor Aleksandar Kostov and graduate student Mark Polak, he has succeeded in moving a computer cursor up and down on the screen” (Sheremata 42).

            And earlier, in 1996:

“For instance, in 1993 David J. Warner, a neuroscientist at Loma Linda University Medical Center in California, connected the electrodes from our EMG apparatus to the face of a 10-year-old boy who had been completely paralyzed below the neck in an automobile accident. By tensing certain facial muscles, the young
patient could move objects on the computer screen — the first time since his injury that the child could manipulate a part of his environment without aid” (Lusted, Knapp 82).

            By 2003, more work has been done on the development of in brain-computer
interfaces (BCIs) to read brain signals of paralyzed people:

“Most BCIs read brain waves, the electrical impulses created by neural
activity that can be detected—albeit fuzzily—through the scalp. By diligently controlling their mental activity, patients can choose letters to spell words, guide a cursor, or direct crude robots. But a rival circle of scientists is rapidly advancing a type of BCI that is implanted inside the brain. Such devices tap into the more detailed neural signals relayed by individual neurons” (Wickelgren 496).

2025

The man stirred in his sleep, awakened from his morphine-induced sleep to recognize his wife’s voice.  He opened his eyes, tried to smile.  His wife, Helen, smiled back, took his hand, then turned to look at the monitor at the foot of the bed, and read her husband’s greeting, “Hello, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Oh, I’ll bet you were sleeping,” Helen replied softly.  She turned back to the monitor expectantly.

                        “Did you call the insurance company?”

                        “Yes, Hon, don’t worry.  The premiums are all paid up and this is all covered.”

After Helen left, the man found he was thirsty.  He should have asked Helen for some water before she left.  Within a minute, a nurse came in, bearing a cup of ice water.  The man took a few sips, then set the cup down and closed his eyes.  He was thinking of when they had brought their firstborn home from the hospital.  He opened his eyes, and watched the memory play out on the monitor.  The scene faded a few minutes later, as the pain hit and he knew he needed some of the calming, painkilling drugs that were automatically fed through the tubes in his arm when he needed them.  When he next awoke, he replayed his wedding day.  After that, the Notre Dame game of 1993.

But cancer was still a killer in a small percentage of cases, and though his mind was clear, his body was ravaged by the disease.  Assured of his wishes being followed, and comfortably free of pain, he knew by the end of that week that he was within hours of dying.  Helen was called, and was by his side.  She watched his slow and shallow breathing, looking up at the monitor now and then to smile at the “I’ll always love you,” he kept thinking for her.  The hospital staff was called in, and helped him prepare.  As the monitor flickered, the staff quickly switched connections, moving him quickly to the operating room on the same floor.  Helen called her son with the news that his father had passed, then left.

A week later, Helen visited her husband at the new wing of the hospital.  She sat alone in the small room and the equipment was wheeled in and set against a wall, switched on, and she was left alone again, watching the screen flicker to life.  “How are you, Hon?” she asked, tentatively, anxious yet a bit nervous, as she had not experienced this before.   She read the monitor, “Fine, Helen, I’m fine.”

———–

One word stands out from all the rest of the new media language, and I’ve formed ideas based upon its varied meanings:  Transitioning.  The fadeout between movie scenes, the chapter heading or the little squiggled lines in books.  A change of time, a change of scene, something that brings us into place with pace of narrative.  We seek out smoothness in its rendering, a gentle impact that is relevant, comprehensible and hides the seconds, sometimes decades of a story without leaving us to wonder where we are.

The final transition though, for us, comes in many ways as well; screeching tires and tinkling glass, or slowly in a breath, a breath, then none.  This is where technology can change our lives perhaps, make dying easier, then like a sequel to the movie, move us on to play another part again (Gibb).

            Nursing care is entering its most demanding time as the baby boomers enter into the realm of the elderly.  Nursing home care is already under pressure to resolve care issues for too many patients with too little caretakers.  One of the projects at the MIT Media Lab is already addressing this issue (as are others in more indirect ways), a project called “Multimedia Bed” related to the “Gray Matter” projects, and under the direction of Ted Selker and Winslow Burleson: 

This project involves providing a traditional bed with multimedia computing capabilities, eye-tracking, and coordination of the electronics with a projection screen mounted above the bed. The system provides the user with an alarm clock that projects a sunrise on the ceiling at the time the user wishes to wake. It allows the user to go to sleep with a star-lit sky projection, or with a constellation game. And if you play the game well past your bedtime, the system may ask you about resetting your alarm to a later time the following morning. It makes reading in bed easier by projecting your book onto the screen, eliminating the need to prop yourself up using your elbows or a pillow”  (MIT Media Lab).

            The brain itself is rarely the cause of death unless diseased or damaged.  Instead, it dies in response to the shutting down of the parts of the body upon which it depends; the lungs, to breathe in the necessary oxygen, and the heart to circulate the life-sustaining elements within the blood.  “Brain-death” is indeed a very different circumstance than when the brain loses consciousness and dies within moments of the physical collapse of the body.  Death of the brain indicates the lack of measurable waves, electrical impulses that efficiently and with precision ran the machine of the body.  Can a healthy brain, emitting its powerful brain waves be harnessed to be redirected to engineer a more responsive mechanism than its failing body, such as a computer?  Quite possibly.

Is that a good thing, or an affront to God and nature; will we embrace it or in horror turn away?  Do games become more real, or will reality, in fact, become a game (Gibb). 

            Computer technology frightened the populace with its potential for overtaking humanity as it become smarter than any one single man, but instead a depository for all human knowledge.  HAL was indeed something to fear.  But if the computers were human…

How is New Media relevant to these breakthroughs in medical technology? 

By applying the principles of new media methods to other fields of interest; by working together to share knowledge in the manner suggested by Vannevar Bush.  By considering the modules of memory that can be recalled and presented in non-linear, non-static format; the layering of timelines and events within the mind to remediate them into graphics and audio that transcend the barriers we face today, i.e., “I can still smell that Thanksgiving turkey Grandma made when I was ten years old, and hearing my dad and Grandpa hooting and hollering in the living room as they watched the football game on TV.”  By using the brain’s natural tendency of hyperlinking information to simulate it in a virtual world using established coding and language that transforms thoughts and ideas into action.  By manipulating what we know of the human brain into information that is useable by computer machinations.  By interacting with the mind and computer to break down the ultimate fourth wall.

LATE BREAKING NEWS, December 2004: 

Professor of neurobiology medical enginineering and psychological and
brain sciences and co-director of the Center for Neuroengineering, Duke
University enabled the brain waves of monkeys to control a robotic arm” (Miguel A. L. Nicolelis)

            “Paralyzed patients may someday lead more normal lives if scientists can translate brain activity into words and motion. Last year, for example, Duke University researchers showed that monkeys with brain implants could learn to control robotic arms. Cyberkinetics Inc. of Foxborough, Mass., implanted an experimental brain interface into a quadriplegic patient this year” (Vergano).

Works Cited

Bush, Vannevar.  “As We May Think.” Copyright © 1945.  The Atlantic Monthly.  July 1945.

Copyright © 2004 The Atlantic Monthly Group. All rights reserved. http://www.theatlantic.com/unbound/flashbks/computer/bushf.htm.. (handout)

Degani, Asaf.  Taming HAL.  New York:  MacMillan.  2004

Gibb, Susan M.  “NEW MEDIA:  Transitioning.”  Spinning.  Dec. 10, 2004.  http://smgct.typepad.com/spinning/2004/12/new_media_trans.html#comments

http://inventors.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http://sln.fi.edu/biosci/healthy/fake.html  Building a Better Heart.  Dec. 6, 2004

http://inventors.about.com/library/inventors/bltelegraph.htm  “The History of the Telegraph and Telegraphy.”  Dec. 6, 2004

http://inventors.about.com/library/inventors/bltelephone.htm#Inventors  “The History of the Telephone.”  Dec. 6, 2004

Keep, Christopher, Tim McLaughlin, Robin Parmar.  © 1993-2000  “The Electronic Labyrinth.” http://www.iath.virginia.edu/elab/hfl0034.html

Lusted, Hugh S. and R. Benjamin Knapp.  “Controlling computers with neural signals.” Scientific American. Oct96, Vol. 275 Issue 4:  p82.

MIT Media Lab.  Gray Matters:  Multimedia Bed.  http://www.media.mit.edu/research/SigPubWeb.pl?ID=7  Dec. 12, 2004

“Miguel A. L. Nicolelis.”: Scientific American; Dec2004, Vol. 291 Issue 6, p46

Sheremata, Davis.  “Professor Kostov’s mind-reading machine.”  Alberta Report / Newsmagazine. 02/16/98, Vol. 25 Issue 9:  p42.

Vergano, Daniel. “Paralyzed use brain waves to move.” USA TODAY  Copyright 2004 Gannett Company, Inc.  http://www.eid.txcc.commnet.edu:5002/universe/document?_m=7236c207b1aebe5d018a0a74807951ad&_docnum=2&wchp=dGLbVtz-zSkVA&_md5=5d238b3417eb778343bb007afe28f29f

Wickelgren, Ingrid. “Tapping the Mind.”  Science. 1/24/2003, Vol. 299 Issue 5606:  p496,

Posted in NEW MEDIA | 1 Comment

WRITING & REALITY: Future Shock

A little while back, I half-overheard a conversation at a break of one of our writing group meetings. The topic was of future, death, afterlife; heavy subjects covered in a half-lighthearted way more as musings. From one, a vision of living on forever as a “talking head” perhaps, likely sitting atop a metal body of whirring drives and clicking bytes as its life progress towards eternity. Strange idea, strange man.

Really? Maybe not so much.

Am I not wired into my computer right here, in the present? The elements are there: Brain impulses to fingers that connect to keys that move bytes to sort input into output and voila! Ideas show up in readily recognizable readable form. What small step need be taken to eliminate the one weak link in the chain; the gradual physical decomposition of the body—not all parts as yet being replaceable. Take out that one step, go brain directly to computer, and my life, for one, would not be all that different. Skipping meals, sleep; just a prelude to a doing-away with completely. Time, time would just be constant rather than intermittent. As a matter of fact, without the burden of time on a daily basis, as well as perfecting lifespan to infinity, time would not matter at all. It would simply disappear.

Posted in WRITING | Comments Off on WRITING & REALITY: Future Shock

WRITING: And Title begot Narrative, who begot Story

Sometimes the idea comes in a title. Just happens in the middle of what you’re doing, like a pop-up ad. Much more welcome, certainly, but just as annoying—more so, because it takes more than a single click to make it go away. Another Window of some sort must be opened. Someplace to toss it in a room to save, or toss it out to grow.

“The Spirit Crusher.”

A story begs to start here, so much in those three words is already spoken but unwritten. I have dropped this seed in a fertile place to grow out on its own. I’ll feed and nurture it with motherly attention. I shall guide it to its best and full potential.

And what? A glowing peony or just a futile ragweed? Then, when bloomed and fading, I shall dig it up and study its root system; where it wandered in its quest, how deep it had to go, and, of course, filter through my fingers every bit of soil that clings, that was so necessary to its structure, to its growth until it is pulled free to reach its natural end.

Posted in WRITING | Comments Off on WRITING: And Title begot Narrative, who begot Story

WRITING: Who IS the Author?

We’ve gone round on this one before, and stubborn as a mule I may be, but am slowly bending under the pressure to relegate ownership of a story to the reader. An example:

From a short story that establishes a background of the separation of town and people by wealth and setting, out of choice:

“On the northern end, two churches stared at each other in a cold war of fieldstone. The big church … was surrounded by trimmed hedges, lush lawn and everblooming gardens, as if to make up for turning its back on the fields.”

Might as well add: “from whence it was born.”

The church, being constructed of fieldstone, you see, stones taken out of the fields to build the churches in town. This mimics what is happening with the people, that is, the new generation turning its back on the old, forsaking the labor of farming to find wealth in manufacturing plants that build up the town.

We can say that a) the author planned this; a well-thought out symbolism; b) the author didn’t plan this, but somehow it was subconsciously brought out in his story; or c) I, the reader, am making something out of it only because of my own experiences brought to the reading.

What’s the answer? I don’t know. And I’m the one that wrote it. All I can purely discount is that it was most definitely (and reluctantly admitted) not brilliantly planned. All I can take as credit is being an astute reader, or maybe not that astute, having read it a hundred times over in rewrites and just having picked up on it now.

It makes one wonder about how much the author does purposefully, subconsciously, or obliviously. Therefore, it strengthens the argument that the story belongs to the reader. I have always pretty much fought this notion, but may need to switch camps as my arguments disintegrate around me by my own hand.

Posted in WRITING | Comments Off on WRITING: Who IS the Author?

REALITY: Today

Have you never felt the need to wrap yourself in a late summer’s day to become part of the air, the earth, the sky?

Have you never felt so very small, and yet huge in your oneness with all within your vision and taste? Of the beauty of blueness above and great green expanses with dollops of yellows and reds; days tasting of sweet honey breezes and pollen that floats to your tongue.

Have you never been humbled, about to explode; humbled and hiding; humbled but rising above and into it all?

Because in truth, with all that you see, there’s so much more beyond it that it’s everything yet awesomely nothing at all.

Posted in REALITY | 1 Comment

WRITING: Astronomical Metaphor

From the BBC news: “Comet pioneer Fred Whipple dies —
Tributes have been paid to astronomer Fred Whipple who has died. He was the first scientist to describe comets as “dirty snowballs”.

That’s what I like: A scientist using poetic metaphor. What a great combination!

Posted in WRITING | 2 Comments

PEOPLE: Relationship Quiz

Found at Teddy Bear Victoria’s, one of those quizzes that you hate to admit sometimes nails it on the head when it comes to your personality–if you answer the questions honestly. Try it here: Twenty Questions to a Better Relationship.

I’m not telling you how I fared. It wasn’t very flattering one little bit.

(P.S. I know I’m supposed to be doing homework or framing instead of blogging. That just shows you what kind of person I am.)

Posted in People | Comments Off on PEOPLE: Relationship Quiz

BLOGGING, REALITY, WRITING & EDUCATION: Prolificality Revisited

Okay folks, after serious study of two syllabi, I have come to the conclusion that somethin’s gotta give.

With my busiest picture framing season coming up, and the workload expressed in the only two classes I’m taking this semester, it looks like I will have to let go of some other things that take up so much of my time. Writing, both in Spinning and in my escapades through Fictionland is where I have devoted a good deal of my time. Doesn’t look like I can do that any longer, unless you want to read about Relative Frequency and Distribution. The main problem seems to be in the fact that both courses will require daytime slots–not only in-class activity, but homework that can’t be done at a more flexible three in the morning because of software and student access.

That being said, I shall try my damnedest to post meaningful entries, but sincerely doubt that they will have the voice that has been developing here over the past year. Poetry, for example, has not influenced my thought process for a month or more, and will no doubt fall into disuse completely for a while unless something exciting, depressing, revelatory, or spiritual comes up to take my mind off histograms and technical aspects of the creative process.

We’ll see how it all goes down.

Posted in BLOGGING, EDUCATION, REALITY, WRITING | 2 Comments

WRITING & REALITY: Developing ‘Tude

I’m back safely from the scary journey into academia, and aside from an eight a.m. class that gives me no time to prepare if I’ve procrastinated, as well as presenting myself with hair still wet from the shower, several good things have come of it.

Early morning classes assure me of a parking space much closer to the building; my Statistics teacher seems to be excellent—not packing a sense of humor really, but a truly good instructor who knows how to get the information across in a readily comprehensible manner; my New Media course is being taught by three instructors, two of whom I’ve either had in other courses or have come to know through our writer’s group (and besides, I’ve been on campus for over four years now!) and one who seems really neat, energetic, and is as knowledgeable as his colleagues. I realized that I’m not expected to know everything in a course—that’s why I’m taking it. The hour and a half between classes is really a good time to either use the computer lab or the library, and as happened today, I can either study or come up with great story ideas just by watching what’s happening around me.

I also came up with a decent wording and ending of one of my short pieces of fiction. Despite my growing dissatisfaction with my story lines in general, I am slowly learning to manipulate time spans within a story, and better still, may have overcome my tendency to end a story with anything that strongly suggests, “in case you’ve missed the point, here is where it all comes together and I can explain it to you.” I’m almost (not totally yet) proud of coming up with an ending that should be explanatory, natural, yet open to interpretation. In other words, the dangling kind that leaves you thinking instead of just satisfied.

Hey, don’t laugh. This is a big step for me. To invite a reader to make what he will of a set of facts I’ve presented used to rub me the wrong way. I’m finally willing to hand my information over to an audience and not get upset when they come up with their own conclusions. This is not always a conscious effort on the part of the author. In many cases, what is in the mind of the author is either overstated, or left out because the author either feels he has to map everything out, or because he forgot that while HE knows what or why, the reader won’t unless all the necessary data is delivered to him.

(Note to Neha: Nope, guess I’m not quitting yet!)

Posted in REALITY, WRITING | 1 Comment

REALITY: Design

For heaven’s sake–you’d think that my husband, a Design Engineer, would know better than to put whipped cream on TOP of ice cream. I had to show him how you slide the nozzle slowly around the rim of the bowl to fill in all the crevices. Cheesh!

Posted in REALITY | Comments Off on REALITY: Design

REALITY: Garden Joys

Usually I spend my summer outside. Actually, my spring and autumn days as well, planting, cleaning, trimming, weeding, pinching and picking.

This spring, because I had lots of other things on my mind, I never got myself out to do more than a minimal of weeding and a pinch here and there. A couple times I tried, got fed up, came back inside and drew the blinds. Twice this week and again today I forced myself to face it. Brave? Ambitious? No. I was hiding from Algebra which evidently I was supposed to remember how to do for a Statistics class starting tomorrow morning at eight a.m.

I’m slashing, hacking, breaking, tugging, and making sweetie-pie run back and forth with the wheelbarrow to the compost out back because I can’t go near poison ivy.

Where in the name of God are all the plants I so carefully tended for years? Why does grass grow so beautifully in the gardens? How, in the name of all that’s holy, did everything go to hell in one season?

I’ve weeded and done some gardening at my dad’s this year, and some at my friend, Chris’ because neither of them was really up to it and both, like me, usually love to be out there getting our hands dirty. Well, my hands are now black because I forgot to put handcream on each time I came back in to wash up (can’t use gloves–real farmers don’t use gloves), and nothing short of clorox takes out all the stains for days.

I know I’m going to be stiff and sore tomorrow, and will have to sit through two hours of what may as well be Greek to me.

Maybe, with any luck, they won’t let me into class because of my dirty hands.

Posted in REALITY | Comments Off on REALITY: Garden Joys

REALITY & WRITING: Procrastination

Putting off the things that can’t be faced for lack of concentration, control or energy. Excuses are the tool the best Procrastinator knows how to use, and use them well.

Deadlines are the blade that dangles overhead. Faced with one, the best procrastinator somehow reaches deep inside himself and finds the other tools, the ones that help the job get done; and done it is, in often record time.

Stress is just a side effect, not symptom, but a perk. Running with adrenalin that makes quick work of mountains, and often finds a way to level rather than to climb.

Outside, in late August heat of hellish sun, I must do one last weeding–often first in places, and the price I pay for putting off is sweat.

Willingly, I pay.

Posted in REALITY, WRITING | Comments Off on REALITY & WRITING: Procrastination

REALITY: The Secret Value of Procrastination

Okay, last item on my list below for posting today is this entry on procrastinating.

I’ll do it later.

Posted in REALITY | Comments Off on REALITY: The Secret Value of Procrastination