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Tuesday, September 25, 2012

affectu

Communication is changing all the time.  And with modes of communication going in and out of fashion (smoke signals and semaphore, written word and the pony express, the telephone, the cell phone, email and texting, videochat...) the way that we express ourselves and get our meaning across changes too.

Here's an invention that accompanied the development of email and texting:
:)
Adorable, really.

With communication more available and mindless than ever before, it's so much easier to insert simple faces in an attempt to illustrate tone than it is to spend time developing a caustic, sarcastic, or sincere tone through word choice and all that rhetoric.

And because it's so much easier to omit tonal clues in your writing, it's also becoming much more difficult to be able to pick up on them when they're there.

For example, internet sarcasm.  Unless you're a close friend of someone and you know exactly what they would and wouldn't say and mean, sarcasm is often taken to be sincere. 
Which is kindof hilarious in some instances...
But even so, it's become somewhat necessary to include an obvious pointer to one's sarcastic remarks.  Like so:
↓↓SARCASM↓↓
"I really wish that I had read the twilight books"
↑↑SARCASM↑↑

This is frustrating, that the general public with their fifth-grade reading level cannot detect any sort of satire unless it's pointed out to them.

Conversely, I'm quite fond of the development of emoticons.  I sometimes have problems reminding myself not to include them in my essays for school.
:P

I guess it all evens out.

Monday, September 24, 2012

odisse

No doubt you have heard this conversation before, or even taken part in it:

"I hate BYU."
"Careful, now.  'Hate' is a strong word..."

And usually the reminder that you're using strong words quiets your original statement.

But why?  Why should we be afraid to use a "strong word"?
And if 'hate' is so strong, why does nobody caution you against declaring your love for Utah State?
(really...nobody should ever question your love for Utah State.  The above statement is moot.)

University affiliations aside, the question remains:  Are we only allowed to use strong words for positive declarations?
Are the words that we use for positive declarations even perceived to be that strong?

Am I using too many rhetorical questions?
       Undoubtedly.  There really is an obscene amount going on here...

I'm frustrated by the loss of strength in words such as 'love', 'friends' and 'bacon'.  Most people have already been exposed to the weakness of the word 'love' (and if you haven't, you can read this post to enlighten you further).  Part of its weakness comes from the fact that there are so many different variations of love that its meaning gets diffused across all those meanings.  "I love you as a friend."  "I love you as a brother."  "I love you more than I love bacon."  "I level-three love you."  So you have to supplement your declaration of love with an explanation as to what you mean so there aren't any misconceptions that lead to awkward dates, incestuous thoughts, or accidentally leading people on.

I've spent long hours explaining love.  (often through a letter...I find those much easier to manage)  It would have been so much more economical to just say, "I love you."

If the words "I love you" were beautiful enough to suffice, I'd have done so.  But I found it necessary to dissect it and bare the entrails.

As for 'friend'.  There are facebook friends, old friends, study friends, soccer friends, childhood friends, best friends, former best friends, roommates, people you met five minutes ago...

And with so many meanings, the word 'friend' has fallen to the same disease as the word 'love'.  I'm somewhat disgruntled to find that my favorite people and truest friends are put under the same inadequate label as people whom I met once at a party three months ago and have texted thrice since.

But words like 'hate' and 'enemy'.  You need no explanation like "I hate you as a villain."  "I hate you more than I hate celery."  "You just leveled up in my hatred for you."  You can tell someone "I hate it when all the Boston Baked Beans are gone", and they immediately understand the level of pain and spite you're experiencing.  

And yes, there are different intensities of hatred, but 'hate' has still maintained its status as a "strong word".  Is it just not as diluted as 'love' is?

Unfortunately I don't think I have much power here to change everybody's usage of words like 'hate' and 'love'...I suppose I'm mostly just complaining about the world and wondering why it doesn't operate on my terms.  Rude.

But in all seriousness, just be straightforward with your words.  And please only love as much as you hate.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

palliata

Something that a lot of writers have experience with is persona.  It's the Latin word for "person", and in terms of literature, it's the person the author is telling the story through.  Like if the author is telling a story about their juvenile pie-stealing crime sprees, they're obviously not going to write that through their current, law-abiding citizen point of view.  They instead elect to use a childish persona from their past, and it makes the story much more believable.

And then literature students can have the joy on writing how the use of persona enhances the author's writing.  Lucky them.

But nobody wants to read a blog about literary components.  You want something much more intriguing and dangerous, like stolen pie.

So I wanted to introduce you to Luka.  I actually named her after a Suzanne Vega song, if you care to know.  Here's a very lovely and detailed picture of her:


No doubt you are impressed.
(especially with my terrible computer-drawing skills. normally she looks much more lovely.)
Luka is a persona, of sorts.  And not just in the sense that she steals pie.  She's a representation of somebody who might not actually exist.  Perhaps she never existed and never will.  Or she used to exist, but is no longer with us.  Or maybe she exists in the future.  
In any case, she currently is not a physical human being.
But Luka still has quite a bit to say, despite not physically existing. We usually try to avoid letting her have the microphone, because she doesn't share well and we usually have to tranquilize her somehow to get it back.  Or steal it while she's sleeping.  Sneaky, I know.
Luka likes to write poems and draw pictures, though.  So maybe one day we'll post one of her better poems.
For now, though, Luka's in time-out.  So no poem today.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

scriptus

Alright.  Time to revisit the fact that I write a lot.

This is perhaps becoming more and more true, because I am finding myself much more prone to spending time writing blog posts than doing chemistry assignments (of which I have already missed...all of the assignments...)

Then again, I've also neglected to write in my book for quite some time...poor book.
That's right.  I have what most would call a "journal".  But for some reason, I have an aversion to it being called a "journal", and so instead, I have a "book".  And if people ask me, "oh, is that your journal?", I will instead tell them, "No, actually, this is my book".  And then they draw the conclusion that I am writing a book, presumably a fantasy romance teenage drama novel with dragons, because those are the kinds of books that people my age like to try to write.  And then hopefully they leave me alone, because obviously I am not writing stuff in my book in hopes that it will become a social activity.

So, why do I write so excessively?  To be honest, I don't know exactly why.  I write lots of different things, see.  A book.  A blog.  I used to keep a few different books that were each specifically for one topic.  Letters.  I used to write lots of letters...probably about half of which never actually reached their recipients.  I occasionally keep a bookmark on which I write phrases that I am particularly fond of from the book that I am reading.  My desk is cluttered with notebooks and small slips of paper, all containing excellent thoughts and realizations and words...I especially love words.

So my question is this: Why bother thinking if we can't write?  Or doing, or experiencing, or anythinging, for that matter.  I write lots of things to just remember them.  My book, yes, but also just notes.  Grocery lists.  How to take perform integration by parts.  Things to do today.  Something I thought of or remembered, and didn't want to lose.

I write a lot because there's so much to be written.

Not to discredit oral tradition or anything.  But written language is definitely a handy little invention.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

iurare

Today, I received an interesting text message from a friend, requesting a list of several uncommon adjectives that were not more than two syllables.
Slightly excited, I returned the next 140 characters with the words:

quaint, portly, ruddy, pious, awry, verdant, virile, pudgy, bovine, fetal, queer, feral, hirsute, gaudy, sly, and crispy

K, crispy isn't that uncommon in the everyday vernacular, but it's a very good word nonetheless.

After sending such a heartfelt list, I was informed that my friend was in search of alternatives to swears in a book he's working on.  This amused me slightly, but also alarmed me, because I don't want "crispy" to be used as an expletive anytime soon.  I quickly advised him to just use "asinine" a lot because it conveys the same harshness of an actual swear, but it's such better word choice.  And it doesn't ruin words like "verdant" and "fetal".

But it brings up what is for some (especially those in Utah) a moral dilemma:  Should I write swear words in books?

hahahahahha....hahahhaahhaha
Sorry.  Immature moment there, as I realized that the way that question is posed makes it sound like you're running around the local library, ripping books of the shelves and writing "butthead" across the pages or something...and now the thought of it is making me giggle like an idiot, here in the middle of the library on campus.  I really hope other people are looking at me weirdly.

I digress.
Many writers who normally don't swear when they themselves are speaking object to it because they hate reading a great book and then coming upon an F-bomb that really didn't add to the quality of the writing.  It has destroyed many a book.
Others argue that it shouldn't be so objectionable because it adds realism to the story and characters.  After all, "$^%&^" sometimes carries a lot more than "He swore loudly".

Personally, I generally avoid swearing.  But there are some words that, although they are swears, are just so succinct, and no other word will really do.  The F-word is obviously not one of these, because it is used so widely, and as every part of speech.  Including a preposition, by some of the more talented swearers...
No, I'm talking about words with definite, consistent meanings.  And words that don't have a direct counterpart, like "crap" or "donkey". 
So really, that narrows down my favorite swear quite a lot.

Even so, I tend to go with a weaker word, depending on my audience.

Although it has been psychologically proven that, for someone who doesn't swear often, letting a cuss word out or two can actually reduce the amount of pain sensed.  It's apparently therapeutic in small amounts.

This hasn't really reached any sort of conclusion, but does every post have to reach a conclusion?  Maybe its open-endedness will invite commentary from any readers who care to participate.  Haha.

Monday, September 10, 2012

fabula

Every good story is a love story.

Now, I know this sounds gross, because love stories are so cliché and revolting, not to mention cliché...  But it's true.

And if you're someone who knows me personally, you may be wondering what kind of blog link I gave you, because this is certainly not me writing...But it is.

Here, allow me to tell you a loveless story.  It will be brief, in the interest of saving virtual paper.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who was bored with her life.  She didn't have a blog to fill her time, so she decided to embark on a journey and see what life had to offer.  She traveled across the country until she came to the sea.  There was nobody she wanted to say goodbye to, and nobody she was hoping to meet.  But she sailed away in a small boat, slightly curious about what she might encounter in her journeys.
The girl was indifferent toward the ocean, so the sight of land one day was neither a relief nor a pain.  She quickly found her way ashore and set out to explore her new location.  There were some interesting things there, but nothing too noteworthy, and nobody to write to about the curious discoveries she was making, so these discoveries are rather inconsequential.

Okay, that got really difficult really quickly.  Which is why there is no ending.  And really no middle...and not much of a beginning either.  The whole story sucks.  See, the story would be a lot better if there was some sort of love going on.  Naturally what comes to mind is that the girl either leaves a wonderful boy behind, or finds a new dark and handsome lad in the new land, or both.  And yes, even that would make the story much less dry of a read.

But any other kind of love would be welcome as well.

See, stories require love in order to connect with us.  Whether it's a love of a land (as in Far from Home...I'll just refer to that since we should all be familiar with it...), of a people, a culture, a sport, a mathematic principle, a small hedgehog....it all makes the story valuable.  Sure, people usually get involved as well, but that doesn't mean that there is only one kind of love story.

Now, I'm sure that some of you little devil's advocates are wondering "What about hate stories?  Those are passionate and emotionally involving just like love stories, but they are indeed loveless."  And to you, I say that you use the term "hate" just as loosely as people use the term "love".

"I love bacon" is not the same kind of love as "I love my dog".  While both are clearly desirable....actually, I'm pretty sure that bacon love is pretty deep stuff...

Take two:
"I love reading 'The Far Side' comics" is not the same kind of love as "I love my dog".  Obviously, most of us have a much deeper attachment to dogs than to comics, and this is largely because of the many good experiences we've had with our dogs that outweigh the good experiences we've had with Gary Larson.

Unless your dog is named Gary Larson.

Similarly, "I hate Justin Bieber" doesn't carry the same weight as "I hate celery", because I haven't had many experiences with Justin Bieber (thankfully), but I have had countless miserable experiences with celery.  Awful, stringy stuff...

True hate has to be rooted in the same place that sincere love is rooted.  You can only truly hate that which you have truly loved.  And you can only truly love something if you give it the power to break your heart.

See, my heart's been broken by soccer before.  And math, yes.  And by each of my closest friends.  (They take turns, but some of them take more than their fair share of turns...)  And by Marcus Mumford.
But not so much by bacon.  Or Boston Baked Beans.  Or the city of Boston.  Or even zebras.

Each person's love story is a little bit different.  I could tell you how I spent summers dedicated to soccer, and never made the team, and yes, it's a love story.  That's why it's worth telling.  If I had spent my summers training for the wrestling team and then didn't make the cut, that wouldn't have been a good story because it's completely passionless.

So, as we all go around making stories to tell, just remember that where you invest your love, you invest your life.

Friday, September 7, 2012

carmen

Studies have repeatedly proven that music has a profound influence on us as humans.  On our thoughts, our moods, our memories..our psyche in general.  No doubt you've been in a class at some point in your educational career where you've been asked to listen to some music and then either draw something or write something based on what the music says to you.  And something quite remarkable about this activity is that you can do it with any number of people of any age, and you will typically yield results that are all similar in nature (they were written to the same tune, after all) but each one is still distinct from the others.  Each person interprets a song differently.  There are songs that elicit very strong responses from one person that might be completely neutral for another person.

So how in the world do musicians feel, trying to convey something through their music that each and every person is going to interpret differently?  I'm pretty sure the only way I would convey anything musically is by emphasizing the important parts with deep, roaring bass notes throughout...but maybe that tendency just goes to show how musically illiterate I am in comparison to musical ninjas.  You know who you are.

Anyway.  Writing can be a lot like that, too.  I mean, you could spend a lifetime writing reports and research journals and everything that doesn't really leave a whole lot of room for interpretation or emotional involvement (unless you're Thomas Jefferson, and you wrote the Constitution) or you could write sonnets and plays and try to be like Shakespeare, who wrote very intricate things that are still quite popular (probably more popular, if you're going by sheer international numbers).

Either way, in writing there are no bass notes to rumble the soul.

But a lot of writers really like the connection between words and music, and the interpretations thereof.  In fact, I know of several writers who use music to affect their writing.  They'll either listen to music as they work on a book or poem or something, or they will begin their writing sessions with a particular song before going to work.  While this is probably a very nice tool for those writers, it's something that I have never really done as a writer, and I don't plan on ever doing.  My major motivation in avoiding this is because I want my writing, whatever it is at the time, to be led by me rather than influenced my my musical mood.  Perhaps this is a sort of purism.  Or silliness...and sometimes the two go hand in hand.

Perhaps at this point, I should define "writing".  As mentioned in an earlier post, I write a lot.  I also listen to music a lot, and inevitably these two events coexist from time to time.  In fact, I am listening to music right now, as I type these very words.  (Dustbowl Dance by Mumford and Sons, very good.)  I am listening to music right now because I don't really consider this to be highly-involved writing.  I'm just putting a few musings down on the internet and it's not really anything that personal or effortful for me.  What I do mean by writing is the occasional event in which I sit down with the intent to write something fantastic, perhaps poetry (I wrote poems from time to time, and rather enjoy it...), and in those instances, I don't intentionally try to alter my writing environment because I don't want my writing to be tainted by somebody else's stuff leading me.  Yeah, I'm affected by other people's songs and quotes and emotions, but I prefer to lead myself wherever possible.


Thursday, September 6, 2012

scriptor

Apparently I write a lot.

This was made known to me about a month ago.  I went to a party.  Everyone started playing video games, which we all know is the height of social interaction.  Especially when only four people can play at once.  Anyway, I was not amused by the video games, so I went upstairs and started writing stuff in a notebook I happened to have with me.  My excellent friend came to see what I was up to, and he notified me of the fact that I write a lot.  To be honest, this was news to me at the time because I had always been under the impression that I didn't write enough.  But I suppose his claim has some validity, because that notebook that I happened to have with me was really a notebook that accompanies me virtually everywhere...ha...

Anyway.  Perhaps a lot of this stemmed from my young desire to be a writer.  A lot of this developed during fifth and sixth grade...and then continued in seventh and eighth grade...but it was largely because I wanted to know lots of things, and I thought that writers knew lots of things, because they wrote about lots of things.  And they did research on lots of things, like Latin roots for Harry Potter spells and Greek mythology and all manner of interesting things.  So these people had to be quite knowledgeable on all things cool, right?  Why would I not want to be one?

Well, life continued, and right now I'm not planning on becoming a writer by profession.  The only reason I can think of as to why I lost that desire is because I had an English teacher in ninth grade that made writing things much more heinous of an activity than it had ever been.  Meanwhile, I had a math teacher that was making math much more exciting than it had ever been before, and since then I've been going down a math path, but still making rhymes sometimes to keep in touch with my inner writer.  

Although while I was cleaning out some old things in my room before moving out, I came upon several notebooks filled with writings from when I was going to be a writer.  It was rather impressive to see just how much I had written...but apparently not that impressive, because I ended up throwing all of it out.  Which most writers will tell you is a sin, but really...I hadn't looked at any of that stuff for ages, and none of it was that valuable to me anymore anyway because it was so old and I've changed so much since I wrote it and had those ideas...so I don't feel too bad.

I was planning on using this to lead into a different topic, but it kindof ran away from me and I don't want to make any single post too long because the attention span on the internet is not quite long enough to justify doing that. 

I have no idea where this post really went, or where it should go...
Ah well.  It happens to every writer.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

vidimus

Time for some more writing about writing.  I'm thrilled.  And I'm sure that my overlarge audience is as well. :)

So this first week of University, I've done something that I haven't had a lot of time to do for quite some time now...I read books!  Surprising, I know.  I love reading, actually, and I have this problem where I go to the public library (wonderful place) and check out tons of interesting books and take them home with me...where they sit in various places throughout the house, waiting to be read.  And then usually I end up returning them unread because I don't get the time to just sit down with a delicious book and read.  It's awful.  But this week, that was not the story.  Since I took books from the library in my hometown all the way up to the University that's two hours away, I figured that I should read them.  It's about time.

One of the books I finished this past week is called "Far from Home", by Na'ima B. Roberts.
There's a picture of the cover there.  Memorize that image, then go search for it at your public library. You must read this book. 

My initial desire is to go off about how terrible this book is.  Because it is.  If you want to read a happy story where there are challenges but then everything turns out really great in the end and good vanquishes evil and then the princesses all get married, then go to another blog about how to make cute crafts and miniature pies.  I don't want to go into detail about this awful book, though, because a) nobody wants spoilers, and b) that would be a plot summary, which is a sin in English classes...and is certainly not about writing.  Which is what this blog is about.  Obviously.

So, the book is about Zimbabwe and the colonial repercussions that are causing political strife there.  As you read the book, try to remember the time period it's all happening in. It's sometimes difficult to believe.  The book is written in three sections.  The first is written through the perspective of a young Shona African named Tariro.  It's probably my favorite part of the book because Tariro's life is so unbelievable.  The book then changes pace completely and tells the story of a white girl named Katie, living twenty five years later.  And the third part switches between the two perspectives as their different worlds inevitably collide in a series of events much more magnanimous than I expected.

Definitely no fairy tales here.

I love the way that this book is written, though.  It's kindof weird to switch settings and personalities and demographics so suddenly and thoroughly because you become so encased in one that you nearly forget the other.  Which is exactly the way that the book has to be written in order to have such a powerful ending.  If the two narrators had been telling stories simultaneously, things would be too jumbled and readers would be forced to choose sides.  But in this format, it's difficult to choose a side. Even after reading the book, I'm not sure who I would choose to come out on top over the other, because I know each girl so deeply and I know what she needs, what she's been through, and how she feels about the dispute.  The writing integrates each girl's distinct culture so thoroughly that you see both sides of the story without any reservation, and you appreciate and connect with each one on an individual basis.

Without the structure of this book, the story would become very confusing and biased.  The format keeps it fairly objective, actually, and free from emotion.  Which makes the ending almost disappointing, because there is no clear-cut good and no absolute evil.  There is no winning side and no losing side.  Not much of a denoument. Just catharsis. And that's all there really needs to be...all that there could be.

It's a terrible book.
Read it. :)