A conversation:
OWS: What did we do wrong in past lives to deserve this? Was I in the Khmer Rouge? What else warrants this kind of punishment?
Me: Not much else. Maybe genocide.
OWS: Khmer Rouge was genocide.
Me: Oh.
...
Me: You know not to use obscure historical references around me!
OWS: Sorry. [insert Wikipedia link for Khmer Rouge here]
Monday, January 30, 2012
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
I have been remiss.
It occurred to me today that I haven't been blogging regularly here for one specific reason: I was waiting for ideas of deep and resonant literary merit to come along for me to write about.
I realize now that that's just silly: I hardly have time to read anymore. Where on earth would I find such ideas? So a new (old) idea: Rather than wait for ideas and content to come to me, I'll simply record what I'm up to. Because some of it's just downright weird.
For instance! I'm growing a mustache.
You heard me.
A mustache.
Like this:
November is now Movember - men all over the ... US? I think... are growing lush mustaches to support one another in their triumph against prostate and testicular cancer. (I said testicular!! OMG.) And they've allowed us women to join with them.
My husband is/was a pro cyclist and cyclocross rider. And from what I understand (I have no statistics) cyclists are cautioned to have their prostates checked earlier than usual.
Anyway, by Movember 30th, I'll be mustachioed and I hope the men in my life will be able to see past the silliness to how deeply I care for them and wish them health and longevity.
(Plug: If you want to support my mustache, go here. It only costs $10, but if I make $20, I can buy two!! The money goes to research. I get the mustache. And my husband. Win-win-win!)
I realize now that that's just silly: I hardly have time to read anymore. Where on earth would I find such ideas? So a new (old) idea: Rather than wait for ideas and content to come to me, I'll simply record what I'm up to. Because some of it's just downright weird.
For instance! I'm growing a mustache.
You heard me.
A mustache.
Like this:
November is now Movember - men all over the ... US? I think... are growing lush mustaches to support one another in their triumph against prostate and testicular cancer. (I said testicular!! OMG.) And they've allowed us women to join with them.
My husband is/was a pro cyclist and cyclocross rider. And from what I understand (I have no statistics) cyclists are cautioned to have their prostates checked earlier than usual.
Anyway, by Movember 30th, I'll be mustachioed and I hope the men in my life will be able to see past the silliness to how deeply I care for them and wish them health and longevity.
(Plug: If you want to support my mustache, go here. It only costs $10, but if I make $20, I can buy two!! The money goes to research. I get the mustache. And my husband. Win-win-win!)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
In Pursuit of Eschewing Surplusage
A co-worker recently directed me to Mark Twain's criticism of James Fenimore Cooper's "Leatherstocking Tales," a series about one ridiculous Natty Bumppo and quite a few historically inaccurate American Indians. I confess, I've never read much of Twain's work in general (aside from "Pudd'nhead Wilson," which I thoroughly enjoyed), so his criticism was a delightful surprise.
Twain's essay, titled "Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses," outlines a series of guidelines or prerequisites for "literary art in domain of romantic fiction" and one by one describes how Fenimore Cooper failed to even comprehend these guidelines.
I think what I love about Twain is his flexibility:
- He can be long-winded and blustery: "when the personages of a tale deal in conversation, the talk shall sound like human talk, and be talk such as human beings would be likely to talk in the given circumstances, and have a discoverable meaning, also a discoverable purpose, and a show of relevancy, and remain in the neighborhood of the subject at hand, and be interesting to the reader, and help out the tale, and stop when the people cannot think of anything more to say" (paragraph 8)
- He can be incredibly to the point: "Eschew surplusage" (paragraph 18)
- He uses sarcasm and irony incredibly well: "I wish I may never know peace again if he doesn't strike out promptly and follow the track of that cannon-ball across the plain in the dense fog and find the fort. Isn't it a daisy?" (paragraph 25)
- He is generally in complete earnest beneath all the language and humor he employs: "I may be mistaken, but it does seem to me that "Deerslayer" is not a work of art in any sense; it does seem to me that it is destitute of every detail that goes to the making of a work of art; in truth, it seems to me that "Deerslayer" is just simply a literary delirium tremens." (paragraph 51)
The above are just samples of Twain's wit and devotion to beautiful literature. For the full piece, visit it at the University of Virginia Library: Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses.
Twain's essay, titled "Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses," outlines a series of guidelines or prerequisites for "literary art in domain of romantic fiction" and one by one describes how Fenimore Cooper failed to even comprehend these guidelines.
I think what I love about Twain is his flexibility:
- He can be long-winded and blustery: "when the personages of a tale deal in conversation, the talk shall sound like human talk, and be talk such as human beings would be likely to talk in the given circumstances, and have a discoverable meaning, also a discoverable purpose, and a show of relevancy, and remain in the neighborhood of the subject at hand, and be interesting to the reader, and help out the tale, and stop when the people cannot think of anything more to say" (paragraph 8)
- He can be incredibly to the point: "Eschew surplusage" (paragraph 18)
- He uses sarcasm and irony incredibly well: "I wish I may never know peace again if he doesn't strike out promptly and follow the track of that cannon-ball across the plain in the dense fog and find the fort. Isn't it a daisy?" (paragraph 25)
- He is generally in complete earnest beneath all the language and humor he employs: "I may be mistaken, but it does seem to me that "Deerslayer" is not a work of art in any sense; it does seem to me that it is destitute of every detail that goes to the making of a work of art; in truth, it seems to me that "Deerslayer" is just simply a literary delirium tremens." (paragraph 51)
The above are just samples of Twain's wit and devotion to beautiful literature. For the full piece, visit it at the University of Virginia Library: Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Very well then I contradict myself...I contain multitudes.
I was re-reading a few of my last posts and noticed the theme of not being myself, not being clear or feeling unable to think clearly.
That's gone! It happened the Monday after the honeymoon: I was working remotely from a hotel room in Georgia, and I woke up that morning feeling rested, energetic, and creative. And since then, I've been clear-headed and myself again. And on the backside of everything, finally, people are coming out of the woodwork to agree with me: when you get engaged, you literally lose your mind. What I ask now, is why didn't someone warn me?!
For as much as I've been reading lately, I have little to report. I'm researching content: what is content? How do you manage it? What content is relevant to me? To my business? To my friends? How do you plan for future content? When does content expire? It's pretty fascinating stuff, to be honest. The expert people in this field are generally well-written and fun to follow on Twitter - an added bonus. I'm looking forward to finding some conferences to attend.
**Title line from "Song of Myself," by Walt Whitman
That's gone! It happened the Monday after the honeymoon: I was working remotely from a hotel room in Georgia, and I woke up that morning feeling rested, energetic, and creative. And since then, I've been clear-headed and myself again. And on the backside of everything, finally, people are coming out of the woodwork to agree with me: when you get engaged, you literally lose your mind. What I ask now, is why didn't someone warn me?!
For as much as I've been reading lately, I have little to report. I'm researching content: what is content? How do you manage it? What content is relevant to me? To my business? To my friends? How do you plan for future content? When does content expire? It's pretty fascinating stuff, to be honest. The expert people in this field are generally well-written and fun to follow on Twitter - an added bonus. I'm looking forward to finding some conferences to attend.
**Title line from "Song of Myself," by Walt Whitman
Monday, June 27, 2011
Now that you've said, "I do..."
There are so many things I like about being married. Things I'd never thought of, but have already made me laugh (and sometimes cry). For instance:
Dave was out of town for work Monday through Thursday, and I had the weirdest, inescapable back pain for most of the week. I just felt generally unwell and went to work from home Wednesday afternoon. Around 3:00, someone came in the back door. I assumed it was the landlord (we're expecting a new roof any day now), and called, "Hello?" Dave came around the corner! His bosses asked after me and sent him home when they found out I was sick! I bawled my eyes out on and off all afternoon.
We've only been married three weeks, and there are a lot of "single person" habits we're having to break. My favorite one of Dave's is turning the bathroom light off on me as we get ready for bed. Cracks me up every time!
Last night, around 2 a.m., I woke up in an instant and sneezed violently. I felt Dave jerk next to me, and heard a very bleary "bless you." I can't put into words how grateful I am for this wonderful man.
So have a little grace for me if the next couple of WriteMe posts have more to do with marriage anecdotes than actual writing. I'm hoping to strike a balance soon.
Dave was out of town for work Monday through Thursday, and I had the weirdest, inescapable back pain for most of the week. I just felt generally unwell and went to work from home Wednesday afternoon. Around 3:00, someone came in the back door. I assumed it was the landlord (we're expecting a new roof any day now), and called, "Hello?" Dave came around the corner! His bosses asked after me and sent him home when they found out I was sick! I bawled my eyes out on and off all afternoon.
We've only been married three weeks, and there are a lot of "single person" habits we're having to break. My favorite one of Dave's is turning the bathroom light off on me as we get ready for bed. Cracks me up every time!
Last night, around 2 a.m., I woke up in an instant and sneezed violently. I felt Dave jerk next to me, and heard a very bleary "bless you." I can't put into words how grateful I am for this wonderful man.
So have a little grace for me if the next couple of WriteMe posts have more to do with marriage anecdotes than actual writing. I'm hoping to strike a balance soon.
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