Monday, April 9, 2012
The Kiln and Kin are Cold
Language is not a perfect puzzle piece to fit neatly into the jigsaw of someone else's head, but a cracked pottery fragment held in place by glue and spit, the seal by no means seamless. But it's that very imprecision where air and water leak through that allow for language to be playful, to be fun, to be misunderstood. Through these many imperfect fits, I can create humor, juxtapose the sacred and profane, and create evocative imagery in the minds and hearts of others.
Perhaps I think too much of myself, but I also happen to think the world of words.
Yet for as much as I admire language, it fails me. For me, words evaporate when I try to express feelings or emotions. I feel perhaps more than some and perhaps less than others, but my ability to shape these feelings into words is not always successful.
I suppose this is a long and meandering way to introduce the fact that I've been thinking about my brother a lot. People keep asking me how I'm doing in the wake of his death. They don't say that of course. They just ask how I am and give a meaningful look. More often than not I shrug my shoulders. It's not that I don't want to have the conversation, nor do I want people to stop asking, but I don't have an answer beyond body language most of the time.
There are a lot of things I could say about my brother. I could talk about the person he was. I could talk about the memories I have. I could talk about the way he's frozen in time to me. I could talk about his death. I could talk about the fact that I don't have the faith or belief in an afterlife. I could talk about the finality of things and how cold that is.
I think I've gotten caught up in a contradiction. I know that language is imperfect, that expressing emotions and feelings will never be a precise science, metered out in grams and liters. I know that language is a cracked vessel, but I want my words to be a flawless vase. And rather than fire up the kiln and produce any words, the hearth lies cold.
This is who I am for the most part, words left unsaid, with feelings rarely given form. I know the lesson. I can see the moral, but I open the mouth to speak and find only the coldness of clay.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Well, that was Awkward
For the most part, I function well in social settings, but there’s still a large part of my brain dedicated to making things more awkward than they need to be. Anytime I’m caught off guard, the awkward portion of my frontal lobe signals to release awkward hormones into my bloodstream and they cause me to do stupid things like speak or not speak, whichever would be more socially crippling. Or, better yet, I’ll just say, “Awkward,” without any further explanation.
Brain, we’ve been doing this for 27 years. If you’ll excuse the pun, let’s be a team and keep our best interests in mind. You don’t force me to do anything stupid, and I promise to listen to some classical music and drink some pomegranate juice. By God, I can and will stab you with a q-tip if you cross me. Don’t tell me that I’ll just perforate an eardrum because I ALREADY KNOW THAT!
I guess the only real way I can threaten my brain with any lasting violence would involve alcohol or a traumatic brain injury. My goal is to reduce the amount of awkward moments in my life and neither of those conditions seem conducive for helping my cause in the long run.
I only bring this subject up because tonight at Easter dinner I managed to say something incredibly awkward and nothing needed to be said at the moment. I could have simply let the comment go and pretended that nothing happened. NOPE. Mouth opens, and before I knew it, I had scrolled through the rolodex of awkward reactions and loaded the best one into the system. I wonder if my life is a sitcom where I simply have perfect comedic timing for an unseen studio audience. An unseen studio audience who also happens to hate me or enjoys seeing the protagonist bumble his way through life. If this is true, I am owed so many royalties.
I think the problem is that not a lot of things do catch me offguard, but when something does, it can really stagger me. I am not going to explain how I was awkward tonight, at least not on the internets. If you’re curious, I will tell you in person and you can laugh at me or if you’re nice, commiserate. Either are acceptable at this point.
Brain, we’ve been doing this for 27 years. If you’ll excuse the pun, let’s be a team and keep our best interests in mind. You don’t force me to do anything stupid, and I promise to listen to some classical music and drink some pomegranate juice. By God, I can and will stab you with a q-tip if you cross me. Don’t tell me that I’ll just perforate an eardrum because I ALREADY KNOW THAT!
I guess the only real way I can threaten my brain with any lasting violence would involve alcohol or a traumatic brain injury. My goal is to reduce the amount of awkward moments in my life and neither of those conditions seem conducive for helping my cause in the long run.
I only bring this subject up because tonight at Easter dinner I managed to say something incredibly awkward and nothing needed to be said at the moment. I could have simply let the comment go and pretended that nothing happened. NOPE. Mouth opens, and before I knew it, I had scrolled through the rolodex of awkward reactions and loaded the best one into the system. I wonder if my life is a sitcom where I simply have perfect comedic timing for an unseen studio audience. An unseen studio audience who also happens to hate me or enjoys seeing the protagonist bumble his way through life. If this is true, I am owed so many royalties.
I think the problem is that not a lot of things do catch me offguard, but when something does, it can really stagger me. I am not going to explain how I was awkward tonight, at least not on the internets. If you’re curious, I will tell you in person and you can laugh at me or if you’re nice, commiserate. Either are acceptable at this point.
About The Previous Posts
I probably should have explained the previous posts. Basically, it's a continuation from Twitter. If someone favorited my 3000th tweet, I took a few minutes to write a few musings about them... even if that person was someone's dog.
In other news, I've decided to try and get some of my writing published on online blogs and websites. What doesn't get accepted (probably a lot) will eventually make it's way here. I'll also keep writing things here of course, but anything that looks more polished was probably a rejected piece. That'll happen too.
In other news, I've decided to try and get some of my writing published on online blogs and websites. What doesn't get accepted (probably a lot) will eventually make it's way here. I'll also keep writing things here of course, but anything that looks more polished was probably a rejected piece. That'll happen too.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Anne
Cont. from Twitter:
It's taken me a while to write this because there isn't a whole lot I can write that you don't already know, and the last thing I want to do is rehash old news. So perhaps this is new, perhaps it isn't. I don't know about you, but one of the things that I assume is that we're going to be friends for a while. I'm not saying we should make matching friendship bracelets at summer camp and swear to stay in touch once school starts. I don't think our friendship needs that type of reinforcement. We've remained friends despite changes in proximity, relationship status, and employment. Sure there are lulls from time to time, but the lulls (not lols) have never been an indicator of a new normal.
So, I guess I more or less assume that you're going to be around in my life for the foreseeable future, making corny jokes, calling me on my bullshit, and in general just being a good friend. I can't say that about every person who enters my life. (Even my parole office Barry had to leave after five years.) While I value the friendships I have and I do my best to maintain them, circumstance doesn't always make it possible to stay in touch. Like tectonic plates or the third Fast and Furious movie, people drift.
I've always felt as if I've known you for a long time, and I guess what I haven't consciously realized is that feeling stretches both into the past and into the future.
It's taken me a while to write this because there isn't a whole lot I can write that you don't already know, and the last thing I want to do is rehash old news. So perhaps this is new, perhaps it isn't. I don't know about you, but one of the things that I assume is that we're going to be friends for a while. I'm not saying we should make matching friendship bracelets at summer camp and swear to stay in touch once school starts. I don't think our friendship needs that type of reinforcement. We've remained friends despite changes in proximity, relationship status, and employment. Sure there are lulls from time to time, but the lulls (not lols) have never been an indicator of a new normal.
So, I guess I more or less assume that you're going to be around in my life for the foreseeable future, making corny jokes, calling me on my bullshit, and in general just being a good friend. I can't say that about every person who enters my life. (Even my parole office Barry had to leave after five years.) While I value the friendships I have and I do my best to maintain them, circumstance doesn't always make it possible to stay in touch. Like tectonic plates or the third Fast and Furious movie, people drift.
I've always felt as if I've known you for a long time, and I guess what I haven't consciously realized is that feeling stretches both into the past and into the future.
Caroline
Cont. from Twitter:
A former student, kind of. Copeland was in charge of your English education, and while I stepped in to teach on occasion, I seem to know you better from your tweets and identity as a nerdfighter. First and foremost, I should apologize for the lack of letter. My bad. My goal is to write and send it before you leave England. I think I can do it. Never underestimate the power of procrastination. I always was and still am a champion procrastinator. Though in reality, I like to think that I'm just extremely good at time estimation. I understand that some people take adderall to focus their mind. I prefer the incentive that only a looming deadline can provide.
Overall, you seem to have your head on your shoulders, figuratively of course. The literal compliment of having your head on your shoulders fell out of the common vernacular after the French Revolution.
I think the best compliment I can give you is that I don't have any particular advice for you. As a teacher, a large chunk of my job consists of doling out needed (but sometimes not wanted) advice. You on the other hand, I think you'll continue to do just fine without any direct intercession on my part. If you are in need of feedback, be mindful that I don't hear direct prayers (yet), but I will respond to a tweet. Please limit any crisis to something that can be solved in 140 characters or less.
A former student, kind of. Copeland was in charge of your English education, and while I stepped in to teach on occasion, I seem to know you better from your tweets and identity as a nerdfighter. First and foremost, I should apologize for the lack of letter. My bad. My goal is to write and send it before you leave England. I think I can do it. Never underestimate the power of procrastination. I always was and still am a champion procrastinator. Though in reality, I like to think that I'm just extremely good at time estimation. I understand that some people take adderall to focus their mind. I prefer the incentive that only a looming deadline can provide.
Overall, you seem to have your head on your shoulders, figuratively of course. The literal compliment of having your head on your shoulders fell out of the common vernacular after the French Revolution.
I think the best compliment I can give you is that I don't have any particular advice for you. As a teacher, a large chunk of my job consists of doling out needed (but sometimes not wanted) advice. You on the other hand, I think you'll continue to do just fine without any direct intercession on my part. If you are in need of feedback, be mindful that I don't hear direct prayers (yet), but I will respond to a tweet. Please limit any crisis to something that can be solved in 140 characters or less.
Sadye
Again, cont. from Twitter:
So far, you're the only Sadye I've ever known. My first associations with you are of course with the Index. I don’t think we had any classes together at Truman, and if I am wrong in this assumption, then feel free to chastise my tardy memory.
You seem to manage your online identity well, with neither Twitter nor Facebook providing any blackmail worthy material. This is good in case you have aspirations of running for congress at any point in your life.
I’m going to make an inference about you based entirely on your career choice and hobby of running. Call it practice for my budding career as a cold-reading psychic. I imagine that you enjoy the world of observable action, measurable distance and tangible results. You have an eye for detail; I could move one object on your desk and the universe wouldn’t feel right until it was back in its place.
What’s fun about this is that I have no idea if any of my conceptions of you are correct, but it’s not always common that we get a chance to see ourselves through the eyes of an acquaintance. My own personal narcissism is always open to perceptions on my person. One, because I’ve been told I’m hard to read and if I’m hard to read, then what do people see? Two, because of the aforementioned narcissism.
So far, you're the only Sadye I've ever known. My first associations with you are of course with the Index. I don’t think we had any classes together at Truman, and if I am wrong in this assumption, then feel free to chastise my tardy memory.
You seem to manage your online identity well, with neither Twitter nor Facebook providing any blackmail worthy material. This is good in case you have aspirations of running for congress at any point in your life.
I’m going to make an inference about you based entirely on your career choice and hobby of running. Call it practice for my budding career as a cold-reading psychic. I imagine that you enjoy the world of observable action, measurable distance and tangible results. You have an eye for detail; I could move one object on your desk and the universe wouldn’t feel right until it was back in its place.
What’s fun about this is that I have no idea if any of my conceptions of you are correct, but it’s not always common that we get a chance to see ourselves through the eyes of an acquaintance. My own personal narcissism is always open to perceptions on my person. One, because I’ve been told I’m hard to read and if I’m hard to read, then what do people see? Two, because of the aforementioned narcissism.
Penelope
Cont. From Twitter.
You are a dog. And on top of all that, a dog I follow and talk to on twitter. I’m not sure our association could be any more ridiculous. While I am well aware that you are actually unable to tweet, lacking opposable thumbs or paw/nose dexterity to accomplish such a task, I like to imagine you capable of such a feat. Most of the time, I find people creating facebook or twitter accounts for their pets profoundly annoying, but there’s a nice chord of irreverent, and neurotic here. It’s mostly neurotic because multiple people have access to the twitter: Nate, Catherine, possibly Anne. Still, were you able to articulate your innermost thoughts, twitter would be the perfect medium given a dog’s minimal attention span.
You are a dog. And on top of all that, a dog I follow and talk to on twitter. I’m not sure our association could be any more ridiculous. While I am well aware that you are actually unable to tweet, lacking opposable thumbs or paw/nose dexterity to accomplish such a task, I like to imagine you capable of such a feat. Most of the time, I find people creating facebook or twitter accounts for their pets profoundly annoying, but there’s a nice chord of irreverent, and neurotic here. It’s mostly neurotic because multiple people have access to the twitter: Nate, Catherine, possibly Anne. Still, were you able to articulate your innermost thoughts, twitter would be the perfect medium given a dog’s minimal attention span.
Matt
Cont. from Twitter
The first time I met you, you were dressed up as Raoul Duke (Hunter S Thompson). This is not because you have some strange obsession with the man-- or perhaps you do and I am unaware-- but because it was Halloween and that's what people do, dress up as other people who in this case was dressing up as another person so to speak. As the years of our association have gone by, my baseline image of you always tends to return to that character. I am not strictly speaking a primacy-only person, but for you and a several other people, primacy is what I'm stuck with. In this case, my mental concept of you doesn't age, but at times it's probably a little ridiculous. Then again, who's to say that life isn't ridiculous?
The first time I met you, you were dressed up as Raoul Duke (Hunter S Thompson). This is not because you have some strange obsession with the man-- or perhaps you do and I am unaware-- but because it was Halloween and that's what people do, dress up as other people who in this case was dressing up as another person so to speak. As the years of our association have gone by, my baseline image of you always tends to return to that character. I am not strictly speaking a primacy-only person, but for you and a several other people, primacy is what I'm stuck with. In this case, my mental concept of you doesn't age, but at times it's probably a little ridiculous. Then again, who's to say that life isn't ridiculous?
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