Showing posts with label language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label language. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 31

goodbye, January

since the eve of 2024 one month ago, it feels like so much has happened. some of it too fast, too soon, too painfully. 

the grief of losing the first little doggo that I ever really shared my longterm day-to-day life with... I cannot describe it. as much as I'd like to keep trying to, the feeling altogether and gargantuanly transcends words. the whole experience is impossible to talk about in any satisfying, accurate, indubitable way. "losing"? "letting go"? that we "had to" say goodbye? what kind of stupid, broken euphemism circus is this? everything about our language-cloaked expressions of such pain just feels utterly inadequate.

pine trees silhouetted against a morning sky: blue above white above orange glowing above the mountain horizon
{ I suppose we can't have sunrises without some sunsets. }

a happy pug, white fur with darker ears and nose, his mouth open as if smiling for the camera
{ and nothing lasts forever; dog-years are too extra short. }

it is probably irrational to think no one else could ever know what I mean, even if the words and metaphors feel so flimsy. it's not like I'm the only person to ever experience this sort of sadness. nor is this the first unexpected loss in my life. but it has been the closest and the sharpest. so far.

on new year's day I wrote something about how the world (a world so embroiled in hate and genocides and ugly senseless conflict!) is an absolutely crushingly horrific mess, how my heart hurts and hurts and hurts, and how this loss seems to prefigure and to threaten-- or, even more, to promise-- every other inevitable loss I will ever have to face for as long as I live.

it's one thing to philosophically observe, in general, that nothing can last forever. okay. of course. to confront and deeply feel it-- specifically-- as one solitary ending to the life of a inimitably cuddly goofy fuzzy little domesticated animal... that is different.

other aspects of this January were plenty normal, whatever that means. most of my activities seem to come with rather suitable words with which to sketch them into sharable imagery: going to bed early and sleeping in. checking out library books. reading and ignoring and sorting and replying to emails. seeing friends. enduring snow and rain and cold. demonstrating crafts at the museum. putting birdseed in the feeder in the backyard. talking with family on the phone. eating quiche. drinking tea. making soup. needing a haircut but not yet ever managing to go out and get my hair cut. sweeping the floor. running errands. craving hot chocolate. writing lists and syllabi and assignment sheets. spending money. making things. existing. 

{ eclipse shadows from October, 2023. Wesley's last weekend camping trip with us. }

sure, nothing lasts forever. change is nature. this too shall pass: all of these phrasings alternatingly as full of solace as they are of tragedy, representative of a fact more solid than perhaps any other so-called fact. death and endings are, from one point of view, more normal, more mundane, more irrefutable than any of the other relatively comfortable, unassuming, smoothly proceeding lifestuff I might casually document and remember about this particular month of the year. that's what feels so difficult and impossible about it.

the vortex of this heartache felt immeasurable, indescribably vast and infinite, from the inside. 

even so, from a day or two or ten beyond, it begins to shrink and fade. all future moments frame it into something more manageable.

but again the words seem to balk and fail me. "manage"? is that what we are meant to do with these feelings? this grief? is that actually possible? the stringy, endless paradoxes curl up inside of each other, confounding my basic little human brain with ineffability.

{ classic pug-under-the-table photo, new year's eve 2023 }

January, perhaps fittingly, seems so very long. all the transitions it spans-- all the shifting, deepening of the dark season, the post-holiday recoveries, the shiny new beginnings of a calendar year and of an academic semester-- all of that is a lot for 31 average winter days.

I don't know if it really did feel longer for me this year, or if I'm only saying that because it seems like an appropriate thing to sigh into this semi-bleak and impermanent world. 

one month ago, as the cold moon began to wane and the spinning earth began to tilt just barely back towards the sun, our little old dog ate his last breakfast and went on his last stumbling walk and took one final car ride, sitting on my lap. I only knew him for half his life. I wasn't sure if I'd get along with such a beast at first. but we did get along, so well. I loved that pug and I'm glad he was here to share so much of the too-short day-to-day of my life for a while.

Saturday, July 29

two flavors of epic

opening match #5: The One Ring vs Scion: Hero

the meanings of the word epic have evolved a fair bit, as meanings and words tend to do. this word gets used in all kinds of ways to evoke the scope of a thing itself, or the scope of our admiration for the thing, or a little bit of both. anything might be epic if it finds the right audience.

I see these two games as epic in more ways than one, but also in very different ways. different flavors, we might say. one is all about epic stories and songs recounted in verbose detail, with plenty of space for lightness and heaviness and realism. it tastes like rich dark chocolate. the other is all about epic stories told in punchy, extravagant colors, with larger-than-life characters and nobody looking too closely at any collateral damage. it tastes like extra-seasoned popcorn or chips. you can probably guess which one is which already. read on to allay what uncertainties may remain.

Scion: Hero takes as its foundation perhaps the most ancient source texts in existence (if we are allowed, out of convenience, to label such pre-textual constructs as texts) and drags their mythic elements into an unsuspecting contemporary setting.

conversely (and symmetrically?), The One Ring is based on one of the greatest fantasy epics of the 20th century, set in the glorious pre-industrial expanse that is Tolkein's Middle-earth, reveling in all the beautiful intricacies such a setting could possibly inspire.

sprawling mythoi and grand conflicts crisscross through both RPG books in exciting ways. neither of these systems is dealing in small, homey stories. whatever might begin as small or homey in them must be called into larger, higher, more treacherous territories-- the fate of the world may depend upon it.

but there is still room for small stories to matter within all the dire "fate of the world" context-- and indeed those stories may matter more poignantly as a result. personal character growth and interpersonal connections shine all the more brilliantly against the fire and ashes of Mount Doom.

in a roleplaying game, of course, the balance of broad-strokes grandeur and vivid vignette all depends on your storyteller and the players and all the variable dynamics of your game table. I think plenty of both is ideal. Samwise and/or Odysseus should have space to pine for their loved ones and all the normalcy they left at home so many months or years ago. and we should be able to squabble over rations even while we choose to sacrifice our entire futures in the struggle against evil, right?

for this most epic review, my formulaic outline continues to serve us decently well: a table of metadata, summaries of characters I've made in each system, then thoughts comparing the aesthetics, mechanics, and user-friendliness of each.

SYSTEM     The One Ring
Scion: Hero
back cover tagline = "Enter the world of Middle-earth..."
"Find your Destiny."
publisher =
Free League Publishing
White Wolf / Onyx Path Publishing
pub. date =
2020 2007
original cost =
$49.85 $35.00
length =
10 chapters / 240 pages
12 chapters / 334 pages
my exp. level =
none prior  
barely any



previous characters

I often imagine myself as a hobbit, or at least a creature with plenty of hobbit DNA... but technically and copyrightedly, no other brand of rustic, laid-back, food-loving halfling character from any other system can actually count as a true hobbit. before this tournament adventure, I had zero experience with The One Ring system, and surprisingly enough once I picked it up I didn't make a hobbit character for myself. but I could have!

for Scion, once upon a time I created a hero from the Egyptian pantheon for a potential game we almost got going in Louisiana. her name was Yasmin, a scion of Bast-- she had bronze skin, straight black hair, and many golden bracelets, approaching the world all pantherlike and sneakily inquisitive. I think. those sketchy details and a vague sense of the interesting combat turn-taking system are pretty much everything I remembered about the game-- the one session we played was pretty neat, but it didn't go anywhere after that.

new characters + one-shots

for The One Ring, I created two new characters using the amazingly simple process outlined in the book: Fauna Briarhawk (a wandering woman from Bree, seeking treasure and hoping to prove herself more than a mere thief) and Moruthiel Gorlindir (an Elf of Lindor determined to protect those less fortunate after failing to save their best friend from an orc attack). 

we gathered a few friends (thank you, friends Jon and Jim and Angela, for joining) around our table one Friday afternoon to explore Middle-earth and do our part in the fight against the deepening shadow. in preparation for this one-shot, husband Jeremiah created three more character concepts to round out our potential party, and then, after a wonderful frame narrative introduction (in which a younger-ish Bilbo Baggins is having far too much fun telling stories to a much younger trio of Frodo, Merry, and Pippin), we chose our characters and settled into the world of the game: braving a cold winter, traveling north on Gandalf's directions, meeting around a campfire, fending off evil wolves, finding our way to a ranger's shelter to rest and feast before reaching our true destination and defending the Shire from beasts possessed by Sauron.

it was so, so much fun. a short and simple story arc, but so satisfying. I want to draw portraits of our little burgeoning fellowship: Halfred of the Shire, and Fauna of Bree, and BerĂșthiel of Rivendell, and Luindis of the North, and their mounts too. maybe we will all find time to continue the journey someday. after all... it did end with some mysterious clues and lingering questions of the sort that often seem to promise sequels.

since I barely remembered Yasmin in any useful way, I created another two new Scion characters as well-- one in the Japanese and one in the Aztec pantheon. 

Tamiko, a scion of the goddess Amaterasu, is an artistically talented and fiercely ambitious perfectionist. she aims to honor her mother with flawless performances in all aspects of her life, no matter how long it might take. 

and Carmen, scion of the Aztec water god Tlaloc, has a talent for teaching and storytelling, reeling listeners into the webs of her supernatural influence. I gave her a companion Coatl (a brilliant flying serpent creature) named Sammy and a tiara made of shark teeth with which to summon him.

for our Scion one shot, these two teamed up with one other fledgling hero to track down an ominous threat called "The Sword of Japan." there were high speed chase scenes, a battle atop the Statue of Liberty, and confrontations with ghosts in the shipping lanes of the Pacific. for much of the session we all rolled terribly, cursed our dice, and struggled to live up to our characters' truly epic potential, but in the end there was a sufficiently dramatic show-down with one giant kaiju beast in the middle of the ocean.
 

aesthetics

The Lord of the Rings, with its lovely, poignant blend of quaint + epic, has been an undeniable classic for ages now. the world that Tolkien built with such passion and detail seems practically real, and so much of it has bled into our cultural consciousness that it almost feels impossible to talk about it as a separate entity. thankfully, I don't really need to-- this charming RPG based in Tolkien's world is not meant to (and indeed cannot) stand in for the entirety of Tolkien's oeuvre.

yet it seems to me (not that I've even read more than three lines of The Silmarillion) that the spirit of Tolkien's stories is represented thoroughly and well in The One Ring. plenty of sprawling historical, geographical, linguistic, and cultural detail shows up here, distilled just so into potent but practical homage. the world and the vibe are evoked across every inch of in the game's materials-- from its serious, hefty hardcover and gorgeous maps down to the runic borders and faux-foxing at the edges of each page. there is a coziness to it all, tucked in just right amid all the grandeur and drama of dark lords looming over the world. in context of what you already know about The Lord of the Rings, everything in the RPG has as much depth as you could ask for-- the history of the setting, the complexity of the canonical NPCs, and the possibility for epic engagement with both. and there are custom dice, too (more on those later).

I sense so much simplicity and quality craftsmanship in it. the game carves out a sturdy, down-to-earth core of hope and bravery and love, all strong enough to outlast ages of darkness, conflict, or corruption. such an optimistic mythos if there ever was one.

I will gush even more than I gushed about the chapter spreads in Star Wars: Force and Destiny about those in The One Ring rulebook. the book design as a whole is just superb: lovely columns (especially for the table of contents!), nicely spaced lines and paragraphs, welcoming little text boxes here and there. most of it is simple, cream and sepia-tones with red for contrast. the chapter breaks stand out (as they should for wayfinding, but also for beauty) with richness and drama, their style somewhat ethereal. thirteen different artists are credited in the frontmatter, along with two graphic designers. to whichever of them worked in whatever ways on the chapter break art, thank you. it's gorgeous.

photo of a 2-page spread from The One Ring, showing figures that evoke Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, and a hobbit, with the chapter heading "Adventurers" on the right-hand page

photo of half the Table of Contents from The One Ring-- thumbnails and chapter headings in columns across the page.

final design-nerd comment about The One Ring: that horizontal table of contents is undoubtedly some of the most satisfying book design ever. just look at it. thumbnails of each chapter spread design show up again at the head each column, with details and page numbers for every chapter, section, and subsection. I could very well gush even more about that than the chapter spread art itself, if you let me.

-

it may be a bit unfair to describe the aesthetics of Scion as collage-like or patchwork, but the way it draws on all these well-worn mythologies and mashes them together seems to warrant the labels. thankfully the introductions to and distinctions between pantheons are more than cosmetic-- each family of gods is considered and described in depth, each given a bit of ideological grounding and various unique approaches to the timeless war against the recently-escaped Titans. we get chains and webs of symbolism, icons from classical-ish mythologies imbued with extra power because they feature in so many tales. a scion of the Greek pantheon might carry with them the actual Golden Fleece of legend, using it to access powerful birthrights with which to re-twist the very threads of Fate.

in this game, villains and heroes come at each other like magnets, almost without agency of their own-- Fate (or we could call it narrativium, if you like) pulls at them like a tidal force, catalyzing the kinds of epic battles that spawned the old myths in the first place. Scion wants to deal in sets and scenarios that feel huge and expensive-- like an Avengers movie on steroids. it's a splashy system, with mechanics to incentivize the splashiest of character actions. you are a divine being, chosen by gods to fight for all of reality, after all. you'd better act like it.

with all this talk of Fate and birthright, Scion seems more urban high fantasy as opposed to the grittier, darker, low fantasies of World of Darkness games. the urban darkness and tragedy in the world of Scion feels less shadowy, like the dial was turned way up on romance and drama, but way down on most of the angsty noir elements. the line art is cleaner, clearer, like polished china on display. husband Jeremiah likened its vibe to that of many golden age comicbooks, which makes sense to me (not that I've read more than 3 pages of any of those particular early 20th-century texts either). in this world, scions cannot escape their divine identities. once we're past the prologue, they know where they came from and must confront the burden of that legacy. it's very "with great power comes great responsibility," at its core.

mechanics

to play The One Ring, you'll create a character from one of 6 Heroic Cultures, give them one of 6 adventurer's Callings, then choose a few other features, useful items, and weapons. each choice begets a small handful of other choices and a very small handful of calculations for attribute ratings, target numbers, and the load you're carrying. there are just three main attributes-- Strength, Heart, and Wits-- with nine skills under each of those classic physical, social, and mental categories. your Culture will give a range of possible stats to choose from for all of these values-- no math or point-buy-ing needed. Hobbits of the Shire will typically have plenty of Heart and Wits, but lower stats in Strength; Rangers of the North will be strong and full of heart, with medium Wits. from your Culture you'll also get one "favoured" skill, and two more from your Calling-- these are skills that you'll always get to roll twice for and take the better result. 

but not everything comes with a numerical stats value-- some features are just listed, almost as mere flavor, and whether the dice get involved for those things is purely a matter of narrative justification. 

for example, a Hobbit may be Eager, Fair-spoken, Faithful, Honourable, Inquisitive, Keen-eyed, Merry, or Rustic. during character creation you'll pick two features from this list, and then, during gameplay if your character being Fair-spoken or Keen-eyed becomes relevant to any skill check, then you'd add another d6 to the roll.

the dice for this system are simple but unique-- you can get away with using any old d6s and one d12, but it might be more fun to get the custom LotR-themed dice, might it not? the only differences are that the sixes on the d6s (Success Dice) include an Elvish success symbol, and that instead of an 11 and 12, the custom d12 (the Feat die) displays the eye of Sauron, to signify automatic failure, and a glyph of Gandalf, to signify automatic success. we used mostly regular dice for our one-shot, but Jeremiah did paint two sides of a spare d12 red and white with the corresponding eye and glyph designs, so we had that extra special touch.

for each skill test, players will roll the custom d12 and a number of d6s equal to your skill ranks and any bonuses, add all the results together and if it beats your target number for that skill category, that means success. a successful roll that includes one or more sixes is an extraordinary success in some way.

the action of The One Ring is organized into alternating Adventuring phases and Fellowship phases. during the former, all the exciting journeying and decisions and combat happens. during the latter there is time for recovery, healing, character advancement, and various other downtime activities. there are structured systems in place for how the Company of player characters will Journey (everyone will share the various responsibilities involved in traveling), Council (some characters may be more skilled at influencing how NPCs will respond with regard to highly important matters), and of course, Combat.

I really like the combat system in The One Ring, though it did seem strange at first. each battle begins with "opening volleys"-- at least one round where all combatants may employ a thrown or ranged weapon as each party approaches the central field of combat. after that, everyone moves to "close quarters" fighting. during these rounds, each player chooses a Stance, engages with (or is engaged with by) at least one opponent, and then resolves their actions accordingly. we have four Stances to choose from: Forward, the most aggressive; Open, the most balanced; Defensive, the most careful; or Rearward, for ranged attacks. the Stance you choose will dictate the order in which you'll resolve your actions and whether you (or your opponents) get bonuses to offense or defense. all player characters act, those in Forward stance first, then Open, etc., and then all enemies will act, in similar sequence. 

in between combat scenes, our one-shot did include a very short Fellowship phase in which we recovered Hope points (very useful for adding dice to skill test rolls or for aiding your fellow players), but we did not touch on character advancement. for each game session you attend, you'll earn 3 Skill points and 3 Adventure points-- the two flavors of XP. you'll also earn 3 more Skill points at the end of every Yule Fellowship phase. Skill points are used for increasing skill ranks, naturally, and Adventure points can purchase new ranks in Valour or Wisdom. starting characters begin with 1 point each of Valour and Wisdom, with an associated Reward and Virtue for each. increased Valour leads to added Rewards (upgrades to equipment) and increased Wisdom grants new Virtues (increased abilities or proficiency).

-

Scion shares a few of the same underlying mechanics as other White Wolf RPGs-- we're using d10s again, rolling however many dice our Attribute + Ability stats dictate for each risky action within the game, but this time, because we are descendants of mythic, godly beings, results of 7 and higher will mean success.

much of your character is shaped according to the pantheon and patron parent you choose to be descended from. there are six pantheon options in our edition of Scion: Egyptian, Greek, Norse, Aztec, Japanese, and Voodoo. in line with whichever backstory stems from your character's parentage and divine Visitation, you get to choose a range of favored abilities, epic attributes, birthrights, knacks, and boons to enhance your godly powers even further.

you'll start the game with a certain number of Willpower and Legend points. Willpower measures the character's discipline and determination, but in Scion it works a bit differently than in the Word of Darkness games I've written about so far. rather than using it to buy more dice for your rolls, you'll trade Willpower to gain automatic success, resist mind-control if needed, or manage your actions with regard to your character's Virtues.

each pantheon comes with a set of associated Virtues (no vices this time, although each virtue does come with a downside when taken to extremes). channeling your virtue and spending one Willpower point during gameplay lets you add dice equal to your virtue rating to the roll, which is pretty cool.

speaking of cool, there is a mechanic for gaining extra dice on any given roll if you can describe your character's actions in an impressively cinematic way. this is called "stunting," and at the storyteller's discretion you might earn 1-3 extra dice depending on the epic-ness of the stunt you describe. I'm not always good at this sort of thing in the moment during roleplaying, but I think the idea of it is very fun.

the most different thing in Scion is the combat system. it's somewhat more complex while still using a familiar-enough turn-taking system. however, instead of following an initiative order or more abstractly sorting out phases of simultaneous action (as with stances in The One Ring), combat scenes use "ticks" to measure the passage of time, and characters or NPCs spend some number of ticks performing their actions. the speed rating of your chosen action dictates how soon you may act again-- a speed of 2 means you'll act again after 2 ticks; a speed of 5 means waiting 5 ticks. (that this value is called "speed" even though higher numbers mean slower/more spread-out action does throw my inner pedant into a small fit, thanks for asking, but so it goes.) add all the math and dice-counting of dodge values, parry values, armor, soak, health penalties, etc., and combat scenes can get pretty involved. 

and did I mention that Scion: Hero is the first book in a trilogy? character progression in this game is mainly measured in Legend points. Legend increases for every epic deed your character does, causing Fate to swirl magnetically around them more and more strongly. and once your Legend exceeds a certain number, you're not just a hero anymore, but a demigod. Scion: Demigod and Scion: God are the next steps in the epic journey. I've referenced the lore of those books very briefly as context for this review, and I imagine the system isn't different other than in epicness and scope, but I don't know for sure.
 

approachability

these books frame themselves very differently to their readers. The One Ring leans on its original source material a fair bit: copious quotes and epigraphs litter its pages-- at least I assume they are Tolkien quotes-- if they aren't, then they are rather wonderful homages. when they're attributed, if they are at all, it is to their in-world speakers rather than to whichever book, hence my uncertainty. in any case, the book trusts its audience to follow cheerfully along with this subtly immersive tactic. I think it works. 

mythology being the stringy mess of oral history and creative retelling that it is, Scion has no actual source texts, which means it can make its own. within this system, we are invited to remake and retell our own versions of the myths. the book spends plenty of time providing vivid, extended examples. before we can even turn to the table of contents for this rulebook, there are 40+ pages of an opening adventure-- a full-on short story-- following the sample character Eric Donner, a young scion of Thor. that's either really cool for setting the stage and illustrating character possibilities, or it's in the way of us figuring out the actual game.

character creation (and practically everything else) for The One Ring was almost dazzlingly simple-- an elegant flow chart of options without too many nooks and corners to get lost in. once I'd filled out everything on the character sheets for Fauna and for Melenthiel I just kept thinking to myself, "is that everything? it seems like there should be more."

even so, the process is a flexible one and the gameplay similarly flexible. that's the power of "limits are possibilities" at work, I suppose. the details for each Heroic Culture are described in exactly 2 pages. the list of Callings takes up less than 3 altogether. is that not impressive? 

I like that this book is organized with the specifics of gameplay before the step-by-step of creating an adventurer. that seems atypical for an RPG book, but for this it works quite nicely. character creation is still early in the book (starting on p. 27), so it all seems very simple and straightforward to get started.  even the parts that on paper look like they could get unwieldy, like the rules for Journeys and Councils, felt very smooth and easy during the game itself. I credit our Loremaster, Jeremiah, for a large part of this smoothness, along with the game's design. 

overall the cultural ubiquity of The Lord of the Rings + the beautiful, usable design of the book and the system itself makes The One Ring something I'd enthusiastically recommend as a marvelous place to start for new roleplayers. the flow-chart-esque processes of character creation might not be everyone's cup of tea, and I imagine not all GMs will be totally happy in a pre-made, relatively constrained setting, but that's okay-- you can't please everyone all the time. GMs and players who want something more home-brewed have plenty of options to choose from.

despite its pages of scene-setting narrative and its very cool example characters from each pantheon, Scion is less simple both mechanically and storywise. the terminology alone (we have boons and epic abilities, which are purchased with the same pool of starting points you can spend on boons, but aren't boons themselves, and also birthrights and knacks and virtues and what else is there?) and the rules for which particular relics unlock access to which awesome birthright abilities under which particular purview were not easy to suss out during my character creation processes. I found it somewhat fiddly.

and maybe it's that I wanted more and broader context for my own brain to put it all in, but I also had a hard time settling into the game's core conflict in a meaningful way. we get exactly 8 paragraphs introducing us to the world of Scion, the history of gods mingling with humans, warring against the Titans, "the progenitors and ancient foes of the gods" (p. 44). I found myself wanting more about just how the stated threat of Titanspawn might actually manifest in this setting.

but perhaps it can be enough, sometimes, to label one side productive and good and the other side destructive and evil and just go from there. plenty of stories come with vaguely-defined antagonists.

preliminary verdicts

these two are both competing on basically first impressions. does that make it more fair than some of the prior opening rounds?

I'm into mythology as much as any nerdy millennial who may or may not have prided themselves on identifying all the background extras hanging around Mount Olympus in Disney's Hercules. and the prospect of fighting insanely far-reaching battles with monumentally high stakes using epic, flashy powers is, on paper, pretty thrilling. but in practice, I find it intimidating to roleplay such thrilling stuff. Scion players need to be in a fearless and collosal frame of mind to do this game justice, and being improvisationally epic doesn't often come easily to me. describing stunts in writing after I've had some hours/days to think and carve out just the right words for it = yep, no problem, I can do that. describing stunts in 20 seconds or less, on the spot, while three or four other humans listen and wait for their turns? well, um, I probably need more practice with that one.

against any other RPG, Scion may have had a stronger chance. mythology is always pretty cool, and Scion does plenty of fun and awesome things with it. it's got potential.

but I'll be honest, The One Ring has pretty much swept me off my feet. it's not just the book design, I promise-- the charm and simplicity of it was just so delightful to interact with, from beginning to end. I want to play it again as soon as possible.


next new one-shot (and which William-Gibson-obsessed friend would perhaps want to join in for this one, I wonder?): Cyberpunk RED

next match-up reviewExalted vs. Vampire: the Masquerade (5e)

Friday, August 21

unprepared for proper wordsmithery

the third section of the Audre Lorde collection I've been reading is about two hundred pages of poems. here, for this Friday evening, are some snippets, in no particular order, of all the ones I would have dogeared if it weren't a library book.

I wish I could record "Song" for LibriVox. such lovely slant rhymes and even measures.

Wild trees have bought me
and will sell you a wind
in the forest of falsehoods
where your search must not end...

it keeps going in that steady, almost hypnotic way for six more dreamy stanzas.

"Sister, Morning is a Time for Miracles" has this great little metaphor about words being destructive. I could re-read this and think about it for a whole weekend.

Reaching for you with my sad words
between sleeping and waking
what is asked for is often destroyed
by the very words that seek it
like dew in an early morning
dissolving the tongue of salt
as well as its thirst...

I almost couldn't stop quoting from "New Year's Day." top to bottom, this one is a perfect jumble of different feelings and judgements and senses. it is a poem you could shrink down and live inside, fleetingly.

This day feels put together hastily
like a gift for grateful beggars
being better than no time at all
but bells are ringing
in cities I have never visited
and my name is printed over doorways
I have never seen

Extracting a bone
or whatever is tender or fruitful
from a core of indifferent days
I have forgotten the touch of sun
cutting through uncommitted mornings
The night is full of messages
I cannot read
I am too busy forgetting
air like fur on my tongue
these tears
do not come from sadness
but from grit in the sometimes wind.

the opening of "October" is another one I just want to re-read, re-imagine, over and over. it's another poem you almost want to live in for a little while, just until it gets too chilly.

Spirits of the abnormally born
live on in water
of the heroically dead
in the entrails of snake.

Now I span my days like a wild bridge
swaying in place  caught 
between poems like a vise
I am finishing my piece of this bargain
and how shall I return?

the opening question of "Change of Season" hits heavily. a confrontation.

Am I to be cursed forever with becoming
somebody else on the way to myself?
and the rest unfolds more and more on identity and memory. uncertainty. 

of course I like poems with questions in them. here is the entirety of "Fantasy and Conversation," because I could not choose only a segment and none of it is quite as awesome without the rest, anyway.

Speckled frogs leap from my mouth
drown in our coffee
between wisdoms
and decision.

I could smile
turn these frogs into pearls
speak of love
making and giving
if the spell works
shall I break down
or build what is broken
into a new house
shook with confusion

Shall I strike
before our magic
turns color?


I also really liked "Spring People" and "What my Child Learns of the Sea," which has such a gripping image here with the line "of the ways / she will taste her autumns / toast-brittle or warmer than sleep / ..."

for this Friday, on which it might thunderstorm or it might not, could I write my own poem?

in her preface to this collected poetry, Lorde herself talks not about writing poems but about building them, and about re-building them if they prove a little out of joint.

to build a rightly-jointed poem right now, here, behind this blinking screen, would take more time than I have to spare, I think. instead, for now, I'll prosify the sounds of stormclouds, the weight of a workweek in my shoulders, and the strewn-everywhere coziness of a shared life-in-progress with whatever thin words I can. poetry can live outside of poems sometimes, I think.

Tuesday, July 28

under the bus

as promised, this blogpost delves randomly into a few rhetorical facets of the reality television show Hell's Kitchen, mostly it's about  some of the rhetorical commonplaces I noticed were shared among competitors across the show's 15-year run.

we finished watching the most recent eighteenth season of Hell's Kitchen last week, I think. (time is a giant blur because of summer and the pandemic, so who really knows when anything has happened.) it's quite a show. as uber-sensational as its episodes can get (emotionally-heightened music! suspenseful voice-over! dramatic pauses between every three words Ramsay says!), it's not too bad. my favourite segments are all the cooking challenges: de-vein as many jumbo shrimp as you can in 10 minutes exactly; cook 10 perfect mushroom and chive omelettes before the other team does; teach a semi-clueless college student or super model or Olympic athlete to cook your signature recipe using only words, no demonstrations; or create a delectable and perfectly-cooked dish using a random combination of one protein, one starch, one vegetable, and one "wild card" ingredient like truffle or blue cheese or something.

the challenges are always my favourite part of reality television. some people like all the interpersonal scheming and the drama of alliances and betrayal, but that's way less interesting to me than seeing how the variously credentialed guest judges will react to the contestants' cooking.

but anyway. the rhetoric of Hell's Kitchen. why not? there's a lot that could be analyzed along those lines. for this post, I'm dwelling on the idiom that stood out to me the very most among all eighteen seasons of carefully-edited contestant confessionals-- "to throw someone under the bus."

among the hundreds of chefs who have competed on Hell's Kitchen over the years, we see plenty of common rhetorical moves. chefs (especially in season premier episodes) insist that they're "not here to make friends, but to win." they refer to each other throughout as "dead weight" or "fat" that must be "trimmed" from their team. after any particular stressful dinner service (and they're all pretty stressful, no matter what), there is talk of so-and-so having gotten "in the weeds" and messing everything up for the kitchen. chefs hoping to prove their skill talk about "stepping up to the plate" to show the world what they can really do. these last two are sports metaphors, extended beyond the contexts of golf and baseball to describe competitive cooking instead.

if I was doing some serious rhetorical-linguistic analysis here, I'd need to track down transcripts of all these episodes and tally up the commonplaces I've noticed in order to properly see which were most used and when. that process would probably lead me to see others that my casual watching of the show didn't reveal, too.

but as it is, all I have is my gut sense that this particular phrase about throwing people under buses is the most interesting one to talk about.

why? mainly it comes down to the common usage of this phrase on the show illuminating its meaning with extra nuance, helping us understand how the saying has evolved. I suspect that the high-stakes context of a reality show is arguably a factor in distorting this odd little idiom from a term that evokes the blatant, dishonorable scapegoating of an otherwise generally innocent party into something a lot more ... flexible. 

the phrase "to throw someone under the bus" has a murky origin from what I have been able to find out. it's not that old, it seems-- first documented in the 1980s. Merriam-Webster traces its history back to British politics and similar "under the bus" phrases in use within that discourse. apparently "throwing people under the bus" has been regularly popularized by sports journalists in the meantime, which gives us yet another parallel between reality cooking shows and professional sports, I guess.

here, in any case, is the definition as summed up by everyone's favourite crowdsourced encyclopedia:
"to betray a friend or ally for selfish reasons; typically used to describe a self-defensive disavowal and severance of a previously-friendly relationship when the relationship becomes controversial, unpopular, or inconvenient."
how closely does the common usage of the phrase on Hell's Kitchen adhere to this dictionary definition? I'm not too sure.

the definition above gives us two core elements involved in "throwing someone under the bus":

1. a previously friendly relationship, or at least some kind of allyship.
2. a calculated movement in self-defense, to further one's own interests at the expense of someone else's.

usually the chefs on Hell's Kitchen accuse each other of throwing them under the proverbial bus as a defensive move in itself. does that mean the accused chef is guilty of truly, defensively, regardless of honor, throwing them under the bus? I'd argue not often.

given that most of the chefs on this show aren't there to make friends, that first element isn't so solidly present to begin with. however, the chefs are usually teammates, so that might count as an allyship, and thereby satisfy the first element of the definition. but still... as for the second element? this is trickier, and it often depends on a million things. in each chef's mind, they of course can't possibly be as horribly at fault as their competition, so naturally they insist that anyone calling for their elimination is doing so merely to save themselves. but is it really the case that those accused of throwing others under buses are always just as guilty of mistakes and incompetence and therefore just as likely to be eliminated by Ramsay at the end of the night? nope. of course not.

so what would be a more accurate term? well, the corollary commonplace in Hell's Kitchen discourse is "trimming the fat" or "removing dead weight" from the team. in that case, those being eliminated thoroughly deserve their fate and there isn't any defensive betrayal at all going on.

or at least that's one story we can tell. in reality, those who stay in the contest do benefit from every other aspiring chef's removal. it's convenient for some when others do poorly. and there must be a thousand shades of nuance between seeing someone as "dead weight" and seeing someone as an innocent bus victim. nobody is thoroughly one or the other, I imagine. 

{ image borrowed from the network that hosts the show, Fox }

as a postscript, I'd like to also note that Hell's Kitchen's creator and head chef/dictator, Gordon Ramsay, has catchphrases of his own aplenty. many are typically delivered in a screaming tone to function as humiliating insults. the more congenial of them are things like, "let me tell you" or "let's get that right" appended alternately to statements of praise or criticism. these are less rhetorical commonplaces in a bunch of shared discourse, and more habitual conversation fillers. they mark Ramsay's speech as his just as much as his accent does. I find the non-screaming ones pretty endearing.

there are, according to various entertainment news outlets, two more seasons of Hell's Kitchen planned for eventual distribution. but it may be a while before they come out on regular television, much less before they come out on any convenient online streaming services.

will the commonplace of "getting thrown under the bus" continue with seasons nineteen and twenty? I wouldn't be surprised if so.

Monday, July 20

more listening

what and who do you find easy to listen to vs. difficult to listen to? I've had reason to ponder this lately, mainly with regard to diversity and tolerance and such. but of course, as I tend to do, I'm getting broad and philosophical about it.

my favourite things to listen to include:
- rainfall
- string instruments
- well-structured podcasts while I'm working with my hands
- chill, lyric-less music while I'm working with my brain
- husband Jeremiah playing the guitar
- vegetables sauteing or sauce simmering on the stove
- soft, gentle pug snoring

there are probably many more that I can't think of right now, too.

sometimes there are voices I get really sick of hearing, or that I'm impatient about listening to. I tell myself that it's not because of the voice itself, but some quality in it or some context around it that makes it insufferable. the ponderous, over-thoughtful droning of too many academic podcasts. the hyper-critical griping of various YouTube reviewer guys. or the two-dudes-talking podcasts that for whatever reason can't seem to edit out even a shred of their blathering (ahem).

I have limited time in my life. I can't be expected to truly listen to everyone. being picky is not a bad thing.

but lately I'm thinking listening as activism. I'm thinking about who we listen to as a crucial moral and political choice. (it isn't always that, I hope, but it can often be that. the personal is political, they say.)

part of what sparked this thinking of late was my slowpokey journey through the Me and White Supremacy workbook. I've been going through each chapter, journaling as earnestly as I can about each prompt (me and tone policing, me and white superiority, me and white silence, and so on). along with a few of the prompts there are a videos from the workbook's author, uploaded back when the book was still just a daily instagram challenge. and the videos are long. some of them are over an hour long.

listening to a stranger talk to me for that long (and about a subject so potentially touchy, at that) takes some discipline. focus. commitment.

in the first section of her book, Layla Saad has said as much. love, truth, and commitment: we won't get through this workbook and its work without those things. and I feel like I need to re-read that section of the book every other day, to help me keep going and stay committed as the discomfort of unpacking all the ways I'm steeped in white supremacy soup intensifies.

listening to a voice that's so different and so passionate isn't easy. the videos that go with the book aren't totally unscripted, but they're conversational. they're personal. it is so easy to say I don't have time for all that.

for me, putting off this set of intense, fine-grained confrontations is convenient. I have every excuse to put it off for next summer or the summer after that, and very little pressure from the outside world to stick with it.

but... as Ms. Saad writes, in address to white people like me and almost everyone else I have ever closely interacted with,
"Whether or not you have known it, [white supremacy] is system that has granted you unearned privileges, protection, and power. It is also a system that has been designed to keep you asleep and 'unaware' of what you having that privilege, protection and power has meant for people who do not hold white privilege. What you receive for your whiteness comes at a steep cost for those who are not white. This may sicken you and cause you to feel guilt, anger and frustration. But you cannot change your white skin colour to stop receiving these privileges, just like I cannot change my black skin colour to stop receiving racism. But what you can do is wake up to what is really going on, challenge your complicity in this system and work to dismantle it within yourself and the world."
there are things I can't change and things I can change.

maybe I can't change my basic inclinations to choose Margaret Atwood's The Testaments off the digital library shelf instead of buying the more 'experimental' Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo's from an airport bookstore. but I for sure can reconsider those basic inclinations and push myself and my brain to include more non-white voices more often. even if (perhaps especially if) those voices seem strange to me.

in this vein of feeding myself more Black voices, I requested some Audre Lorde from the local library the other day. I mostly wanted to read the oft-recommended Sister Outsider, but the copy I found of that collection also included two other works of hers: Zami (semi-autobiographical loveliness) and Undersong (poetry and such). the blurb on the back cover about Zami, the first of the trio, didn't sell it in a way that grabbed me. but as everyone should do with any book they happen to find in their hands, I read the first few lines of it anyway. and it is loveliness. lyrical, thoughtful, evocative, full of allusion and depth and feeling.

previously, the only Audre Lorde I'd ever read was in an Argument Theory class during my first round of grad school: "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House." (it might actually have only been a section of it; mainly I remember that we discussed-- fitfully-- whether or not one could discuss an argument's structure and effectiveness without discussing the argument's content). I'm looking forward to reading more of her.

I will keep reading and listening to Layla Saad, too. I've also added the more-conversational-than-I-usually-want-to-tolerate Pod Save the People and the deeply educational and impressive 1619 Project to my podcast queue. is it enough? who knows. it feels like barely, barely enough to be beyond tokenism. it's not likely to be enough to thoroughly crack through all the ways I've been conditioned to prefer and validate white voices over any others.

Tuesday, July 7

thread count (1/1132)

the "twitter thread" as a genre fascinates me. I have so many curious questions about it. when was the first cohesive thread of posts created on twitter? who wrote it and about what?

threaded tweets are a reaction to the restrictions of the platform. it's like adapting the limited microblogging form to serve a longer form of writing. combining a handful of tiny posts into something bigger-- like building a tower out of toy blocks.

twitter added an official thread-making feature to its platform not that long ago. but threads (in the computer/internet sense) have been a thing for way longer than that. although etymonline doesn't mention this newer usage--perhaps it's too new-- in its word history of "thread," Merriam Webster does, interestingly. I guess regular dictionaries have a stronger incentive to keep up with the times than etymological dictionaries do.

I learned the internet meaning of thread on online bulletin boards, where a thread is an asynchronous conversation contained under a heading within a specific discussion forum. multiple people can post to a forum thread. everyone's replies are timestamped, linkable, quotable, reply-to-able, and it's all very organized.

a twitter thread is different. sure, the usual "any string of posts-and-replies" does technically constitute a twitter thread... but that's not really what anyone is talking about when they use "twitter thread" as a specific noun. any old string of posts and replies on twitter is more likely to be referred to as a conversation or an exchange. the connotation of "a thread" (often with an introductiony colon, like "a thread:") on twitter involves a string of posts written by a single author, on some focused topic, typically (but not always) within a short span of time. there can be replies, but they feel separate from the twitter thread itself.

so if we want to delineate the twitter thread genre, what are its requirements and hallmarks? and what are its conventions? every genre has conventions-- sometimes very strong ones. memos and emails should have subject lines, letters can have letterhead, and academic articles have references lists at the end. twitter threads have their own rules, too.

we expect a twitter thread to include at least three tweets linked together by topic, structure, and the platform's formatting. there are usually twice that many, if not more. sometimes there is a narrative feel to the thread, and other times it's more list-like. often the thread is announced and introduced as such in the first post, whether or not the ensuing thread is planned out or more off-the-cuff. at the end, especially if the thread has been shared repeatedly and garnered a lot of attention, the author may add a concluding postscript with a link to somewhere readers can donate or otherwise compensate the author's writing work in some way.

but the really interesting and evolving convention I want to talk about is the numbering. there are different ways to number the individual tweets in your twitter thread. in my experience, the numbers most often come at the end of each post, as in the following variations:
[content of tweet...] 1/12
[content of tweet...] (1/12)
(when the total number of tweets is known at the outset)

[content of tweet...] 1/
[content of tweet...] 1/x
[content of tweet...] (1)
(when the total number of eventual tweets is not known-- this mode seems more common)
I've been collecting twitter thread examples (a whole sixteen of them!) for a while now in anticipation of exploring these numbering conventions a bit more. the end-of-the-tweet positioning is the most common numbering style I've seen, overall. but it's not the only one. on rare occasion, the numbers may come first. plenty of threads don't including numbering at all.

so I have sixteen tabs-worth of twitter threads open next to this blogpost draft right now (I'll link them all at the bottom, pseudo-reference-list-style), and while such a random sample of course can't be truly representative of all the twitter threads that have been created in recent months, they at least give me the beginnings of some general insights into twitter thread numbering conventions.

my main finding? the convention of numbering the tweets in a thread on twitter is dying.

at the very least, it's become a marker of formality, more than a useful signal to readers about the order or length of the composition. numbers seem to be less important to a thread's legibility now that the twitter platform supports and displays threaded tweets so smoothly for most people.

I'm surprised by this, for some reason.

but of these sixteen example threads, only 4 include fully numbered tweets (3 at the end as shown above, and 1 at the beginning). another 10 forego numbering altogether, and 2 include numbering for content within the thread, but not as a marker for each separate tweet.

so there you have it. some really, really informally-gathered data about a quirky little internet genre.

it's interesting, right? it is to me. twitter is a culturally powerful and maddeningly ephemeral discursive space. how conventions emerge and spread and morph a little over time is fascinating in any genre or medium. looking at how it seems to be working on twitter helps me think of twitter as not so special. sure, it's different, but it's mostly made of humans just the same way email chains and academic journals are.

as promised, the twitter threads I referenced in this random exploration of mine, listed here in chronological order. I'll add a note that linking them here like this takes them out of context. they may or may not make as much sense from outside the constant/endless/fast-paced nature of twitter as experienced by those who spend too much time scrolling around within it.


Monday, June 29

both, and, oscilatio

halfway through the year.

and such a strange year, so far.

flag cake

on Independence Day this weekend, we're gonna stay home. I don't think I'll make a cake but you never know when or if a cake-baking mood will strike. (the cake pictured is from two or three years back, I think.)

what we are planning on doing is watching the on-demand film release of Hamilton at least once. very excited for that.

it's the middle of the year. halfway. for another six weeks, I'm inbetween official full-time tenure-track jobs. I'm biding my time to see what this pandemic is really going to do to the university's plans for fall semester.

from the middle of Arizona, these precious summer days are ticking along, all of them similarly sunny and breezy and grand.

Richard Lanham (one-time academic idol of mine) writes in Economics of Attention about the concept of oscilatio. it's the way we can look at something and through that thing in turns. like the screen of your phone or laptop or television. if there are cracks and smudges on the glass, you can look at them--consider the glass and its material conditions on their own. or you can train your eyes to ignore the cracks as much as possible and look through them to whatever the light behind the screen is showing.

it's been a little too long since I read Lanham's book, so I remember the concept itself much more than I remember why it's so rhetorically important. the concept itself is so interesting though.

oscilatio reminds me of something I read even longer ago from C. S. Lewis, about what it's like to look at a beam of light vs. looking along it to see the things it touches. in his metaphor, standing in the light and seeing through that light is more valuable than standing outside the light and watching dustmites dance within the beam.

that depends, I imagine. there is beauty in both vantage points. dustmites are a simpler beauty than a garden landscape, and the cracked screen itself doesn't tell you as much as all the news and social media you can read through the screen. maybe all it tells you is that it's time to save up for a new phone.

it might be impossible to look at and through something at the same time. but that still doesn't mean you have to choose only one or the other forever.

oscilatio means the skill of shifting positions. recognizing the difference. having it both ways depending on what you're after.

right now it's halfway through the year. and sometimes it's good to take out your calendar and look at this set of moments from above. June gone, July unfurling in similar languor. six weeks left til I go back to work. other times, it's better to look through it or along it. let it engulf us like all this steady sunshine. what can the days and their cycles show me? time with myself, my love, my two silly pugs. time with books and crafts and food and creativity.

one of my flaws is a tendency to look at everything--time especially--as a scarcity. there's only so much of anything, and the everything I want to cram into my life is a glacier of potential that completely dwarfs the handful of moments I can hold in my brain at once. but that's only one way of looking at it. in another sense, time is a constant. even if I can't cram the everything into it, I still have plenty. life is a brilliant candy store of possibility. I want and need to stop focusing so much on the what ifs and might have beens.

this is the gorgeous, uncertain middle of the year. there is light and dark. screens and shadows and stories to look at and to look through. so it goes.

and here are a few other things that I am in the middle of right now--

- replaying Horizon Zero Dawn. it's one of the first videogames I've ever touched that feels like more than a game somehow--it's easier in this shiny, open-world design to get lost in exploration, combat, questing, and so on. I like it. the sequel looks very neat, too.

- reading the old science fiction novel Dune. I'm not sure what made me want to read it after having heard vague praise of it for so long. it's good though. very engaging and well-constructed.

- editing various projects on the side. some computer graphics analytics, some organizational leadership stuff, some orthodontics, some social work. editing is almost always fun.

- working thoughtfully through this workbook, slowly. it's not easy, and not enough, but it is important stuff. it feels important for me and for the world. it also led me to the author's podcast: Good Ancestor, which is quite lovely stuff.


Saturday, January 18

affection, safety, and a puppy

I learned just today that the German word halten can mean in English to hold or to stop.

this seems profound for some reason. the sentence in my Duolingo German lesson was "die Eltern halten ihr Babies (the parents are holding their babies)" and when my first instinct was to translate that verb as are stopping, I figured I should check the app's hints for it first. they did show both options, but the context seemed to call for are holding instead. depending on the age of one's baby, there aren't that many things you need to or can stop one from doing, really.

if I stop to think for a moment about the same range of meanings in all the history and senses of to hold in English, does that make the whole thing less profound?

the word's etymology is a long one. some snippets that resonate this afternoon:
"to contain; to grasp; to retain"
"to possess, control, rule; to detain, lock up"
"to foster, cherish, keep watch over"
"to keep back from action"

all this potent potential meaning curled up in to hold. and then there are all these phrasal verbs, too: hold back, hold up, hold out, hold off, hold against, beholden to...

to be held as a parent holds a young baby is to be safe. comfortable. cared for. right?

to be held is also to be restrained. controlled. and to be restrained isn't usually considered comfortable, though... right?

or is it?

maybe it is.

paradoxically.

in a "limits are possibilities" sort of way.


I don't remember when exactly this photo is from. September 2016 when we went to the National Zoo? probably. it's been sitting on hold in a blogpost draft for at least three years or so.

to hold also has a sense of continuation. to hold a note. to hold your position. to uphold a ruling. to have and to hold.

sometimes all of that isn't comfortable either. but sometimes it is.

I've been doing this year's 30 days of yoga. it's wonderful even when I don't think I have the time or energy for it-- alternating movement and holding, centering body and mind and breath so all is balanced. not always easy. but it is enough.

I am enough. now is enough. I hope.

in other news-- last week we added to our household a new puppy.


his name is Hamilton.

or, if you're feeling extra fancy, Hamilton Chidi Chewbacca Chesley Alonzo. he's already learned to come when called and to sit on command. Wesley's still warming up to his rambunctious, half-tamed puppy energy, but they're getting along pretty well so far.

what good pugs.

Tuesday, September 17

back and forth-ness

I pulled my high school journal out of its place on the shelf last week, to look back at what I wrote on September 11, 2001.

it's a half page of earnest printed penmanship, phrases like "live in infamy" and "dumb terrorists" smushed together in an account of an event I didn't understand.

I opened this old blogpost draft today, in the mood to blog, not sure exactly what about. perhaps it will be a sequence of thoughts, some from the past and some from the now, juxtaposed as if on shuffle mode. that's often how my brain seems to work anyway: non-linear, constellatory, like a small racquetball inside a hollow dodecahedron or something.

1
I've noticed lately that my vocabulary, at least when I'm standing in front of a classroom full of students in Louisiana, has opened its arms to "y'all." the southern, folksy "y'all" hasn't displaced "you guys" entirely as my collective second-person greeting, but it's obviously gaining ground. I can't decide if I like it or not, but at least it feels fairly normal.

2
I need to read some more Joanna Russ.

3
these two podcasts turned out to be in conversation the other day (and by 'the other day' I apparently mean about a year ago). according to my notes, I listened to this one, "The Oddest Thing in the Universe" by Reasonably Sound, first, and then, from the BBC's Infinite Monkey Cage, "The Human Voice." why language? how? apparently we human beings had all the physical capabilities for speech long before we used them to communicate in spoken words. spoken language is a strange, purposeful biproduct. maybe I should re-listen and see if the two episodes mean any more now that I'm almost finished reading Gretchen McCulloch's Because Internet.

4
I've taken to putting all my old collection of mp3 music files on shuffle every so often, just to see what comes up. here's a list of what did:
Jack Johnson - Posters
Good Charlotte - The River
Blumfeld - Heiss die Segel
Peter Fox - Schwarz zu Blau
Ben Kweller - Run
Eve 6 - Girl Eyes
Andrew Bird - Hole in the Ocean Floor
when did I acquire Andrew Bird music? I don't remember. I do remember that the German stuff is from friend Yvonne, the rest from miscellaneous acquaintances in college.

5
in April 2016, I went to a musical about music (Once) all by myself. just before the second song--which sounded so familiar to me somehow--there were a few lines of dialogue I had to write down. I wrote them on an empty edge of the program. I wrote them down again in a sketch book. and I wrote them down here, too. the moment in these lines is so strangely memorable:
- are you breathing?

- yeah, I am.

-you won't die if you play this song with me.
and then she plays. they sing. he lets himself pick up the guitar again. his life is changed.

6
I've joined the community/campus choir that just started up last week. the director keeps talking about a particular rendition of one of the songs in our repertoire. was my youngest brother a part of that choir in 2014, or not yet?

   { the pinboard on the wall of my office }

Monday, October 15

because poetry.

there's a scene in John Green's latest book, Turtles All The Way Down, where two teenagers sit next to an outdoor in-ground pool and the young man's simple bits of poetry, spoken off-the-cuff under the stars, seem to successfully unseat the young woman's (the protagonist's) spiraling, paralyzing anxiety.

it was a very lovely scene. and it made me think back to a headline I'd seen just a day or so earlier: "How Doctors Use Poetry."

upon first clicking that link to that headline, I read as far down as these few lines:
"...reciting poetry engages the primary reward circuitry in the brain, called the mesolimbic pathway. So does music—but, the researchers found, poetry elicited a unique response. While the mechanism is unclear, it’s been suggested that poetic, musical, and other nonpharmacologic adjuvant therapies can reduce pain..."
and then, a week or so later, I finally came back to read the whole thing. and eventually look up the cognitive neuroscience study the author references. I wanted to blog about this. because poetry.

because the idea of communication beyond the 'restricted' language of 'science' is interesting. because feelings and power and pathos and transformation feel important.

perhaps something about this time of year makes poetry feel especially necessary. seasons changing. colder, darker times pressing in upon us. stresses of the semester intensifying...

I often think I should read and savor more poetry more regularly. but sometimes it doesn't seem accessible or convenient. making space for poems isn't always easy.

our lovely local poets here at NSU have offered me an excuse for savoring plenty of poetry lately though. they're participating in a month-long poetry marathon to support a small indie non-profit literary press. one poem every day, for almost all of October. I like it. maybe there's something about knowing that poems have been written under a time constraint that makes them especially delicious and interesting.

almost all of these poems evoke some kind of emotion. some ask more patience of me than others. I like the ones that make me feel pried open, or guided dot by dot around a gallery of newness, or plunged into a deep ocean.

all the poems of the 30/30 poetry-fest are on one webpage, which makes it difficult to send you to the ones I like the most. you'll have to search a little bit for them. some of my favourites so far:
  • A Study in Time and Space / by Rebecca Macijeski
  • God owns a carwash in Iowa / by Ally Schwam
  • Two Heads / by Karen Greenbaum-Maya
  • Camelot’s Redemption / by Chad W. Lutz
  • If I could make this easy / by Jen Stewart Fueston

and there are still 15 more days of poems to be written! if you're into it, you can donate to the press and incentivize our lovely local poets this month, here and/or here.


more poetries, previously:
also, all of this poetical literary mashup film by Yulin Huang is very cool.

Thursday, August 9

cryptocurrency, female empowerment, + podcasts as technical communication

I am loving this podcast: https://zigzagpod.com/

especially this recent episode of listener stories and general reflection.

and especially Ms. Manoush Zamarodi's response in that episode (around the 19:01 mark) to a listener who wrote in to criticize the hosts' allegedly "acting like silly dumb girls." as she read his letter aloud, I waited, eagerly and impatiently hoping to hear a rebuttal pointing out just how sexist and short-sighted it is to code female laughter as automatically juvenile, thoughtless, idiotic, or stupid, or as some sort of coy, superficial act. Zamarodi is subtler than I think I would have been in her response, but she makes much the same point: there's not one single societally-approved way of sounding or acting intelligent.

she says, "we laugh because we know it's okay not to know everything, that this is a real-time exploration, an investigation into changes that are happening in tech and our culture. And you know what, we don't care if it's not a good look, because it's who we are, and I'm sorry if you find that tiresome. But I really do hope you will keep listening and get used to what strong, intelligent women sometimes sound like. We're being real. And maybe you just haven't heard women in such an up-close and transparent, authentic way before."

thank you for that, Manoush.

the whole podcast so far is wonderful stuff to listen to. people, real experiences, uncertainty, trying new things. plus you get to learn a little bit about blockchain technology and journalism and the future.

I got thinking the other day that this podcast, personal and documentary-ish though it may be, is a great example of technical communication.

podcasts-as-technical-communication is a preoccupation of mine generally, given my scholarly immersion in the later and my personal enjoyment of the former. I want to write more about ZigZag and tech comm someday, but I think that post needs more thinking time.

for now... what other podcasts could be counted (at least in some way) as technical communication? let us explore my subscription list of 30+ podcasts and see what else we find.

most obvious examples:

10-Minute Tech Comm
interviews with scholars and practitioners of technical communication. this makes it more meta, perhaps, but it still counts as sharing information about technical topics. (also--I was in an episode, did I mention that?)

RadioLab 
presenting science-y information and stories in creative narrative forms. definitely a form of public tech comm.

What Trump Can Teach us about Con Law
legal communication is arguably a more narrow sub-discipline than most, but law is very technical. Roman and Elizabeth break it down and make it relevant. that counts.

The Infinite Monkey Cageinformal, comedy-infused, very science-y discussion panels, with episodes based on a theme like space travel or the immune system. the show mixes informative with entertaining very well.


and then a few slightly less-obvious examples:

Lingthusiasm
there's a lot of technical, science-y stuff related to how we use language (mouths and tongues and air and frequencies, not to mention unicode and twitter). and though it's sort of hard to think of it as such, language is a technology in its own right. Gretchen and Lauren make all that technical stuff very fun. (sidenote, I kind of can't wait to read the book Gretchen is working on.)

Ways of Hearing
music and sound and how our bodies and technologies mediate those things. so much about this is inherently technical: see above.

The Sporkful
food and cooking = technologies. most of the time this little show is human-interest stories and entertainment, but Mr. Pashman gets pretty technical about all kinds of food things every so often. they even settle debates from listeners about the practical ethics of grocery store lines and free ice cream samples.

Succulent FAQ podcast
horticulture and plant science, even if discussed mainly in hobby-ist terms, count as technical topics, I say. this one is more how-to than any of my other examples, so that makes it especially similar to traditional tech comm.

others I can think of but don't subscribe to myself-- Planet Money, TED Radio Hour (and most TED talks in general), Song Exploder, StartUp, and Car Talk (even if it is all re-runs now).

I'm sure there are dozens more out there, ranging from specifically how-to-ish all the way up to generally educational in some way. can you help me think of more? feel free to add to the list.

Thursday, September 21

must be seen as

I have been wanting to write something about this newsworthy mess that unfolded in Virginia ever since it happened over a month ago. but what to write? and why? and why now?

my thoughts have needed time to percolate. I still don't know if they are done percolating. is there an ideal thought-percolation time? is there a point at which you have thought enough about something? I kind of don't think so. but probably it depends on what your thinking-goals actually happen to be. are we thinking to do something, or solve something, or...? usually I am thinking for the sake of it, and in that case there is never enough. but I usually have to stop at some point, because only so many things can fit into the whole percolation.

more and more thinking about Charlottesville would also need more and more data about Charlottesville. and while I've been able to get some, there is no way to get it all. I wasn't there. what I have to think with are observations and thoughts that other people have written down on twitter and facebook and other internet spots. such places become the avenues by which I find my news and my sense of newsworthiness. there is so much room in the world for so much news these days. so many stories and voice. this twitter-essay is less directly related to the Charlottesville mess, but it's a story and a message I keep thinking about.

to supply my brain with more informed view, I could, I suppose, listen to more newsy podcasts. or watch some more newsy videos. the podcasts I tend to put on while I wash the dishes are more ponderous, less newsiness. although, in the way of timeliness, 99% Invisible did recently re-run this Memory Palace episode about a statue of Nathan Bedford Forrest.

I don't know if there are any confederate monuments in Indiana anywhere. there is this place, though, just up the road a bit. though it fits the theme of memorials to dead white guys who participated in the general ruination of many, many non-white guys, I don't think anyone is likely to get all enraged about it. I'm not sure though.

it's difficult to think about the complexities of causality and blame. I wonder quite often, what good does blame do? what use is it to spend so much time investigating the precise sources of evils and ills and wrongs and badness, even if we are able to figure it out? does investigating it all make us think we will have any control over the wrong?

maybe just knowing is control enough, in some way. however complex and impossible, we have to try to make things less bad, if we can, right?

sometimes it's hard to see how. sometimes it's easier. sometimes listening is enough. and sometimes listening isn't even that easy.

I've been listening to a few new podcasts lately. Malcolm Gladwell's pet research-and-thinking-aloud project Revisionist History has been a mix of interesting and meh. this very first of the episodes struck me--it's about art and snobbery, patriarchy and sexism, and the concept of "moral licensing." go listen. learning about moral licensing was worth it despite Gladwell's rambling self-important tone.

moral licensing. a justification for keeping all our old and toxic ways of thinking because we spent a little time poking a hole or two in their edges.

so much to think about. I've also been reading a little from a book called Intersectionality. the chapter on how educational institutions play various roles in perpetuating injustice has been thought-provoking for me, now, as I consider my future as a small piece within larger systems of educational institutions. my favourite part of Intersectionality was a quote from Audre Lorde.
"Difference must be not merely tolerated, but seen as a fund of necessary polarities between which our creativity can spark like a dialectic. Only then does the necessity for interdependence become unthreatening." (qtd in Collins & Bilge, p. 169)
necessary polarities. necessary and productive difference. no consensus, no flattened-out unity. difference. to see difference differently changes it. is that what Lorde means? that what might be threatening to us if we resist will transform into a beautiful, wonderful thing is we'd just learn to see it that way?

or is it actually that the threat was all in our heads to begin with?

I'm not sure who the we is. hypothetical we. everyone we.

or me and you. maybe. partly.

and then there is the whole paradox of tolerance to grapple with. what belongs in this world we are creating, and what doesn't? what things are okay, and what things are so bad we shouldn't even look at them? think about them?