“there once was a man, he lived and he died, the end.”

If you’re like me, every week contains a moment of evaluation, particularly since my literary analysis classes: is the way I’m living my life worth it? Are all these responsibilities ones I want to keep? For how long? What do I want my life to look like when I am grown up and outside this college?

Tuesday I had an evaluation moment. I thought about the homework I have to do over this summer: finish a research paper, write a story, read six books, read a magazine. I needed to clean the house, I needed to find time to finish a few pieces of new art for a coffee shop in Lebanon, Pa. I wondered if my post-college life would continue on this same pattern: work all day, come home, work for several hours, allow a little reading or baking cupcakes, a little talking with Greg, and then sleep to begin it all again.

For the past month I’ve been house-sitting, and to get to the house, I drive on some very country roads. It’s a beautiful route, but a little scary around dusk or after dark. In every field there are deer, including baby deer that panic and careen across the road when they see my headlights coming. All the deer work to keep my eyes trained on the landscape, and I notice things:

The tree at the corner of Alpat and Chesnut Grove roads which has a forked hollow at its base, through which you can see the sky, and inside someone humorous placed a small garden gnome. The horizon line through this gap is so much lower than anywhere else — if I knelt there, the grass could be a tiny sea and the sky limitless.

Late-afternoon sun resting on fields and leaves, a golden glow that seems like another dimension lurking at the corners of our vision. It calls out unexpected hollows and curves in faces and the earth’s surface.

It made me think: the real sin in assignments, in responsibilities, in filling your life with things like “The Best American Short Stories,” research papers, or assigned reading is letting them narrow your vision of the world. If you cannot take time at least once in your day to take in your surroundings and observe the minutiae of daily routine (or deviations from it), then you are oblivious to the fabric of real life, its silk-fine or linen-thick threads, the sheen of a square foot of plain-colored fabric.

Of this summer, will I note only enough details to write, “There once was a man, he lived and he died, the end”?

There are plenty of people and organizations quite willing to give anyone responsibilities, tasks, assignments (including self-created assignments). And the desire to complete all of these assignments well and in a timely manner is admirable. But is it worth it?

No. Not if there is not time to contemplate a little, every day.

College coursework has given me a lot of knowledge, the examples of wise professors and a few surprisingly wise classmates, and self-discipline in abundance. So as I begin the part of my life where I am completely self-determined, my self-created assignment is this: learn to do less. Depth of craft and internal dialogue with wisdom cannot happen in a frenetic life.

The end.

and people wonder what we’ll do with English degrees!

The answer is: speak precisely, with words that really mean something. We’ll communicate effectively. I know it sounds easy enough, and most of us claim to do that every day, but I recently stumbled across a BBC news article about the horrible business-speak that’s killing language in our modern centres (it is a British article after all) of commerce. And this list of 50 blunders makes me wildly optimistic about my job opportunities, since I can, after all, tell people what I mean in a tactful, professional way that actually manages to use real words in a complete sentence.

Here are a few gems from the BBC article for your consideration. Read them, potential English majors, and take heart, because you are the next generation to go out and combat linguistic ambiguity and slackerdom!

“Until recently I had to suffer working for a manager who used phrases such as the idiotic I’ve got you in my radar in her speech, letters and e-mails. Once, when I mentioned problems with the phone system, she screamed ‘NO! You don’t have problems, you have challenges’. At which point I almost lost the will to live.”

“We used to collect the jargon used in a list and award the person with the most at the end of the year. The winner was a client manager with the classic you can’t turn a tanker around with a speed boat change. What?”

“My employers recently informed staff that we are no longer allowed to use the phrase brain storm because it might have negative connotations associated with fits. We must now take idea showers. I think that says it all really.” Goodness knows I can never wake up in the morning without my idea shower.

Several people complained about this little bit of linguistic imbecility: “The business-speak that I abhor is pre-prepare and forward planning. Is there any other kind of preparedness or planning?”

“The new one which has got my goat is conversate, widely used to describe a conversation.” This one doesn’t even save you any time. When the real word is only two letters longer, and is a real word, why settle for jargon?

The prize for sheer sarcasm comes from a British bank’s equivalent of a problem call-line: “Apparently, what we’re doing at the moment is sprinkling our magic along the way. It’s a call centre, not Hogwarts.” Scathing.

“My favourite: we’ve got our fingers down the throat of the organisation of that nodule. Translation = Er, no, WE sorted out the problems to cover your backside.” What on earth would possess you to use language so oriented towards bodily fluids in the wordplace? It really makes me gag (haha, that pun was just waiting too eagerly to be made).

“Here in the US we have the cringe-worthy and also in addition.” This one brings to mind the classroom experience of a good friend of mine, who was witness to a student saying that something was “almost, if not nearly” the same as something else. Excuse me? Don’t they mean exactly the same thing? So watch yourselves, English students. If you get cocky, it could happen to you, too, before you even graduate!

“I once had a boss who said, ‘You can’t have your cake and eat it, so you have to step up to the plate and face the music.‘ It was in that moment I knew I had to resign before somebody got badly hurt by a pencil.”

“At a large media company where I once worked, the head of human resources - itself a weaselly neologism for personnel - told us that she would be cascading down new information to staff. What she meant was she was going to send them a memo. It was one of the reasons I resigned - that, and the fact that the chief exec persisted on referring to the company as a really cool train set.” Points to this complainer for the word neologism — also known as a coinage, nonce word, synthetic word, or vogue word. If you can use that word naturally, then in my mind you’re well entitled to occasionally point out the. . . odd diction choices of your co-workers.

“Working for an American corporation, this year’s favourite word seems to be granularity, meaning detail. As in ‘down to that level of granularity‘.” Well, we are called to be the salt of the earth regardless of our profession, right? So let’s share our granularity, as well as our attention to detail, with the business world.

“After a reduction in workforce, my university department sent this notice out to confused campus customers: ‘Thank you for your note. We are assessing and mitigating immediate impacts, and developing a high-level overview to help frame the conversation with our customers and key stakeholders. We intend to start that process within the week. In the meantime, please continue to raise specific concerns or questions about projects with my office via the Transition Support Center…”

“Lately I’ve come across the strategic staircase. What on earth is this? I’ll tell you; it’s office speak for a bit of a plan for the future. It’s not moving on but moving up. How strategic can a staircase really be?”

“Thanks for the impactful article; I especially appreciated the level of granularity. A high altitude view often misses the siloed thinking typical of most businesses. Absent any scheme for incentivitising clear speech, however, I’m afraid we’re stuck with biz-speak.”

Speaking of the way in which things like the internet changes our cognitive functions, what better way to celebrate your work week than with a realization of what an odd sort of language a closed business system can foster in our minds?

Sure, really communicating and spending time crafting appropriate language takes more time, but to me, it seems to be an activity that’s inherently worthwhile. I was listening to the Weepies this morning again, to their song “Simple Life,” which discusses a few simple things (like making a cup of coffee, knowing all your neighbors by name, and all the stars in the night sky) that make life good and full. Taking the time to communicate well, whatever my sphere of life or role happens to be (the office, the classroom, home-body, author, artist), is definitely on my list of things that I aim for in a good life, along with eating well and sleeping a lot.

And laughing? Laughing is definitely on my list, too.

don’t wake me, i plan on sleeping in.

My friends, I gather you together with a sad tale. Peary Manilow has disappeared from our office. He’s been missing for two days, and the pear police are not optimistic, since the first 48 hours are the most crucial in bringing back missing persons without harm.

And Dan also speculates that a pear doesn’t last more than a few days before reaching an irreparable state of ripeness. So. . . even if we got him back, it’s likely his tour would be truncated.

In other news, it’s Friday, and I’m planning on sleeping way the heck in tomorrow morning. Heck yes. And maybe throwing in an afternoon nap today, too. Mmmm. . . napping, my favorite.

In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s summer. Yet I’m beginning my studies of Arabic love poetry for the fall a little early. It’s extremely interesting, particularly as I’m a poet just discovering that not all love poetry is tripe. Listen to the beginning of one of the books I’m reading:

“Amazing! How could it be that the one pierced through the heart by love had any remainder of self left to be bewildered? Love’s character is all-consuming. It numbs the senses, drives away intellect, astonishes thoughts, and sends off the one in love with the others who are gone. Where is bewilderment and who is left to be bewildered?”

I think it might be a pretty intense class. But hopefully it will deepen and broaden my own attempts at poetry with another cultural perspective, and another genre with its own requirements and desires.

the problem with the internet is that you actually have to remember all those passwords.

The awesome things about it are blogs or magazines filled with humor, recipe blogs, and photography blogs. On its best days, the internet really sparks my creativity and makes me want to find a way to create something poetic, profound, or playful (or alliterated).

Today I fulfilled the playful imperative by brainstorming with Dan Custer, following up on the genius of Brandie Stonge, who invited Peary Manilow to tour the Office of Marketing and Public Relations.

As artists and writers, that’s what we need more of, every day — sites that spark something, that give us a new view into ways to spark our readers or viewers to interest, new ways to approach puns, topics of conversation with other sides.

It’s a good point for the internet, to balance against this article, which makes the claim that the internet is stunting our brains. The author of the article is speaking about our growing inability to read long things deeply and thoughtfully due to the way the internet is structured. (You’ll notice that he makes this point within an extremely long article. Preaching to the choir, as it were — people who already value reading long pieces deeply.) I think it’s a deeper issue than that, though. Rather than changing the way we read (although it might do that, too) the internet simply creates many, many distractions from meditation and contemplation.

You know, being able to take time to watch the sun setting, or the rain, and think about it without feeling impatient, without feeling like you need to rush off and click on the next link. As much as it feels odd to me, I am sort of appreciating that the house I’m house-sitting this month does not have internet. I spend more time outside, more time playing with the cat.

So as an artist, the tricky balance to seek after is possibly, “how do I keep the inspiration, variety, humor, and portent that can be found in places like the internet and yet still spend time in contemplation and immersion in the present moment?”

Maybe?

yesterday i learned that you can purchase coffins from costco. weird.

I had trouble thinking of a good topic for blogging this week. So I decided to turn to my no-fail entertainment website: The BBC News. No, the state of the world is not generally entertaining. But after I read the BBC I feel informed, and it’s just plain fun to hear the news scrolling through my brain in a British accent. There are also sometimes fun little puzzles, like “try to tell if the British person who wrote this article is being funny or not.” (British humor sometimes still eludes me.)

Without further ado, here are a few things you can go check out at the BBC news website:

Cuttlefish apparently can learn to recognize their prey while still in the embryo. Sweet! Who knew? If we had clear glass stomachs, could our baby embryos learn to recognize the alphabet before they’re born?

The top story for NASA is that the astronaut’s toilet is now fixed. While I think that’s hilarious, I also think it could be good PR for NASA. When I was in third grade, learning about how astronauts slept and ate and used the bathroom IN SPACE was the coolest thing ever. I bet there are a lot of 3rd graders out there who are even now, as we speak, learning some aspects of space engineering because of NASA’s broken toilet.

Some lady in Sussex hatched a baby emu. Sold as a novelty food at some local store, this lady bought three eggs and put them in a chicken-egg incubator. Two were duds. Apparently this lady is all about rescuing animals, especially unusual ones, and she’s already on the look out for potential mates for her new, baby emu.

Also, this is not on the BBC, but Greg’s house got a new baby kitten this week. It is so cute and tiny! When it purrs, its entire body shakes. And it is very, very curious.

Margherita pizzas get protected by international law? It’s true. And I can attest to both the amazingness of a great Italian pizza and the plastic imitation variety being prevalent. . . although I’ve never been to Naples itself. Maybe next time I visit Italy? Or maybe not, as everyone who visited there said it was a very scary, dirty city.

And last but not least, a man in a wheelchair got caught on the front end of a semi. He was held into the chair by a seatbelt, and who knows how the wheelchair was held onto the front of the semi. (The BBC version of this story was fantastic, because it used the word “lorry” instead of “semi.” Lorry!) Anyway, eventually the truck stopped and the man wasn’t hurt. A sort of modern-day stoic, he only complained that he had spilled his soda pop.

And if those stories don’t inspire you to go out and have a fantastic afternoon and enter your weekend with gladness, my name is Jerry.

in which i write a girly blog post about choosing a career

Dress shopping is a fascinating and personality-revealing phenomenon. You browse through store after store, finding all the dresses you think are beautiful. Then you try them on, one after another, discarding all the ones that don’t fit quite right.

Then you are left with the most difficult task of all — determining which of these beautiful dresses suit you. Which one is actually your style? Which one reflects your personality, your understanding of the way clothes should function as self-expression? Maybe this one pushes your style a little bit but is undeniably you, maybe that one is classic you, and maybe that one over there (yes, the green polka-dotted one) fits well but isn’t right at all.

Choosing is hard. Because you want to choose something you’ll love until it wears out, possibly years down the road.

Career options are the same way. It seems logical to think that once you’ve chosen your major (or in my case, majors), your career will just follow. But no, choosing a major is like choosing all the dresses that are beautiful. Then, throughout your classes, you figure out what, specifically, within that major fits you well. Like photography or printmaking, creative writing or literature analysis.

Then the hardest part. You have to figure out which, of all the things you loved about your (possibly multiple) majors suits you. Does art or English suit me more? Photography or printmaking? Editing or writing? How could I most happily spend my life, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week?

And if you’re lucky, the things that suit you will also fit you (i.e. you’ll be able to find a job opening in that area). If not, well, learn to make your own clothes I guess.

The good thing is, there are plenty of stores and employers out there. . . .

And that ends girly metaphor hour with Mackenzie. Tune in next time, to hear me compare marriage to the process of doing your nails.

(Just kidding. I don’t know anything about marriage and I never do my nails.)

today i read an absurd thing,

which I wanted to share with you. In reading the BBC News website, I came across a profile of (the recently deposed) King Gyanendra of Nepal. It described his takeover of the country after the death of his brother (a largely figurehead monarch) in a palace massacre. It talked about how he dismissed the elected government of Nepal, declared a state of emergency, and consolidated his power, then was removed from his position by a Maoist insurgency (now referred to as “newly installed Maoist-led government”). The article ends, and I quote, “His hobbies include reading and writing poetry.”

Not something I would expect to read in a profile of a recently-deposed absolute monarch.

But hey, if I ever become an absolute monarch, I definitely want to be remembered for liking to read and write poetry.

In other news, Memorial Day weekend proved to be the best vacation I could imagine. Greg and I made the 27-hour trek home and back (actually more like 30-hour trek, due to accidents and consequently congested roadways) and I have subsequently started house-sitting. The cat who lives in the house which I sit is the most adorable, friendly, cat you could imagine. So I think it will be a fun time.

In alternate news, I think I’m abandoning my summer novel-writing endeavor before it even gets properly started. I realized I would much rather try to design a website for myself.

Can you tell I’m not used to having free time, time in which to do anything I want?

Also, I learned that “daikin” in Japanese means “white turnip that nobody really wants to eat.” So the Daikin Fest which I attended in my home town this past weekend? It’s named after a white turnip that nobody really wants to eat.

ah, the summer. . . .

It’s summer in all but the weather. The majority of my contemporaries are now at home and entering their summer groove. Tomorrow I go home to Alabama for a few days to chill with my family. So, my readers, I will not be posting on my customary Friday. (I feel so nineteenth century when I address you — “Dear Reader. . . “)

In any case, the urge to work on my novel has not subsided. In fact, I now have a proper speaker to mediate the action of the story, and I’m hoping that will solve a great deal of my problems, narratively speaking. Of course, I have yet to get into the revision process more than a page, so I’m probably speaking way too early.

I checked out six books for my 26 hours of driving, and I think that should be about sufficient. Wish us good luck on our travels! If I remember, I will take a picture or two of the famed Daikin Fest near my home town (it’s like the county fair, except the food is free and they also have elements of Japanese culture they try to educate us with).

watch the long light fall

I have begun re-reading Art and Fear, and it is very good. “The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars,” authors Ted Orland and David Bayles remind me when I pick up the book. So even though I fear my next project will be a failure, it will serve some purpose in propelling me towards the next project, the next skill learned and mastered. The authors also challenge me with this thought: “What separates artists from ex-artists is that those who challenge their fears continue; those who don’t, quit.” It is as simple as that. If I want to be an artist, I only have to keep making art.

This is a similar dictum to the one Crystal Downing, an English professor here, states firmly: “Writers write.” To call yourself a writer you must merely write. That is deceptively easy; although I say “merely,” I agree with Gene Fowler, who says, “Writing is easy: All you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.”

So why do we keep making art even though there’s fear associated with our vocation, even though it is not easy in the least? I keep asking myself that. I’ve been asking myself that for the last four years. I think, as a senior, I might have the smallest glimmer of an answer about why many artists, poets, or writers find it worthwhile.

Making art is a way through which we engage in and with the world on a whole different dimension from regular life. To really observe an object is to be filled with delight in it, to come to love it in some way. So making art keeps us full of vitality, observing the world and falling in love with it. The process of making art is sometimes pleasant and sometimes frustrating, but it always forces us to see the world in a way that enriches us.

There are a lot of authors (and some of my professors here) who’ve said the same thing, in one way or another, through this past year of study. So I’m not really being original in writing all this down. I’m also (hopefully) not entirely wrong.

I just know that creation necessitates removing blinders from the sides of my eyes. And when I stop to observe and meditate, creation flows naturally from that engagement with the outside world.

you’re the moon, i’m the water

I couldn’t leave blogging until Friday, not after that last depressing acknowledgement of graduation’s sad side! But it is hard not to mourn the ending of something so influential, so elemental to the person I am now. For me, the classroom experience continues, but the social community aspects of college will change drastically.

At least I get to hang out with cool people like Professor Perrin for a while longer. Seriously, working with her for my honors project was one of the most meaningful and good things that happened to me during college.

This week, though, it’s carpe diem (did I spell that right?) — spend as much time together with the people you love as you can before . . . (gasp) THE END OF COLLEGE. For my art majors, that meant going miniature golfing last night after the senior class picnic. For some of my other friends, that means planning Thai dinners and hangouts. And possibly MST3King a movie.

And it’s good — once we knew that we were sad, we could get past it and actually talk about our plans, what we want, what we’re uncertain of, that one place on earth we’ll never move. Which, you know, is just tempting a certain divine someone to decide that’s what we need for our vocational development! =)

This summer, I think I’d like to write a novel.

Yes, you can laugh. I already have obligations to provide 7 pieces of art for a little exhibit at a coffee shop in Lebannon, so there is plenty of work I will end up doing instead. But still. . . novel writing has this allure. . . .