Thursday, June 29, 2006
changes
I have enabled comments for the world at large. No longer are you required to blog to comment on this blog. I hope all five of my readers consider this good news.
insight
Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee, and just as hard to sleep after. -Anne Morrow Lindbergh
We live in a world of constant communication. Cell phones, blackberries, text messaging, pages, quick snatches of gossip at the office. It is ever-present, active, sometimes engaging, and draining. There are times when dealing with the trivial minutiae of life is easiest or best, but it also remains superficial.
And then there are times when we can really engage one another. I read an article recently discussing the Founding Fathers and lamenting the lack of this type of leadership and character in our present society. Where are the Washingtons, Franklins and Adams of our day? They occupied an unprecedented time, assuming the true inheritance of the Enlightenment. With voices sharpened by friction against the ideas of their peers, they proclaimed a new world from the hilltop of freedom. I know of a law professor who hosts gatherings at his home at which his students share wine and readings of the Federalist Papers. Seriously, doesn’t that sound like a good time?
I wonder if sometimes I live in a world where the two are confused, trivial conversation and interpersonal depth. To me, an engaging conversation is one in which personal passions are aroused. I defend my point and you defend yours, and we'll see whose argument carries the day. An outside observer might label this debate, and consider it impersonal. Our human mentality more often than not leaves us put off by those who differ with us, to a degree proportional to the extremity of argument. The employ of passion must be tempered by the calculations of a rational mind. This presents a slippery slope as one can err too far to either side; heated hostility against cold logic. Neither extreme allows one to derive joy from friendship.
As it turns out, I write about two types of “stimulating” conversation. Were we to only seek depth of argument, we would be deluded that any real friendship develops. Relationship is not built upon ideas, but rather on shared human experience. I do not wish to detract from the benefits of debate within a relationship; rather, I intend that there must first be a foundation of mutual understanding, compassion, and acceptance.
While my thoughts were largely spurred by the Lindbergh quote, I also subtly reference a conversation from Tuesday night in which I found depth of insight, disclosure, and greater understanding of the person across form whom I sat.
I simply do not have enough of that in my life. Removed from the academic setting, there are few opportunities for leisurely discussions concerning the philosophy of life, love, and the human condition. More than anything else, I long for deep discussion. And yet, this is only a sign of something more profound: the human need to know and be known.
Coffee and good friends both serve to abbreviate sleep. Although, only one can serve this function at the arrival of morning.
We live in a world of constant communication. Cell phones, blackberries, text messaging, pages, quick snatches of gossip at the office. It is ever-present, active, sometimes engaging, and draining. There are times when dealing with the trivial minutiae of life is easiest or best, but it also remains superficial.
And then there are times when we can really engage one another. I read an article recently discussing the Founding Fathers and lamenting the lack of this type of leadership and character in our present society. Where are the Washingtons, Franklins and Adams of our day? They occupied an unprecedented time, assuming the true inheritance of the Enlightenment. With voices sharpened by friction against the ideas of their peers, they proclaimed a new world from the hilltop of freedom. I know of a law professor who hosts gatherings at his home at which his students share wine and readings of the Federalist Papers. Seriously, doesn’t that sound like a good time?
I wonder if sometimes I live in a world where the two are confused, trivial conversation and interpersonal depth. To me, an engaging conversation is one in which personal passions are aroused. I defend my point and you defend yours, and we'll see whose argument carries the day. An outside observer might label this debate, and consider it impersonal. Our human mentality more often than not leaves us put off by those who differ with us, to a degree proportional to the extremity of argument. The employ of passion must be tempered by the calculations of a rational mind. This presents a slippery slope as one can err too far to either side; heated hostility against cold logic. Neither extreme allows one to derive joy from friendship.
As it turns out, I write about two types of “stimulating” conversation. Were we to only seek depth of argument, we would be deluded that any real friendship develops. Relationship is not built upon ideas, but rather on shared human experience. I do not wish to detract from the benefits of debate within a relationship; rather, I intend that there must first be a foundation of mutual understanding, compassion, and acceptance.
While my thoughts were largely spurred by the Lindbergh quote, I also subtly reference a conversation from Tuesday night in which I found depth of insight, disclosure, and greater understanding of the person across form whom I sat.
I simply do not have enough of that in my life. Removed from the academic setting, there are few opportunities for leisurely discussions concerning the philosophy of life, love, and the human condition. More than anything else, I long for deep discussion. And yet, this is only a sign of something more profound: the human need to know and be known.
Coffee and good friends both serve to abbreviate sleep. Although, only one can serve this function at the arrival of morning.
Monday, June 12, 2006
two miles from the car
This story begins with the purchase of a camera. No, check that. This story begins with planning a trip to Germany. Or does it begin with taking German in high school? Let's start with Germany.
I'm planning a trip to Germany for the fall. I'm excited about it, and reticent, because I've never been to Europe. In order to capture everything, I knew I needed a new camera. I wanted to buy it well in advance of my trip so that I wasn't frustrated with learning to operate it once there. I see an incredible example of fourteenth century architecture, then later try to recreate the image in my mind because what I see coming out of my camera is only a blurred underexposed mess.
Even the appellation of 'amateur' does not apply to my photographic skills. I am at most a photophile. I cannot just sit back and allow some programmer or engineer choose the best aperture, shutter, and exposure settings for my expeditions from some office in the northeast. No, I want control of those things myself. That's where the creativity comes in. A tweak to the light there, an intentional blur to the edges with center in sharp focus, purposefully underexposing to trick the eye into studying shadows. There is technical detail, familiarity, and a "sense" that are required to create a photograph. There is a difference between making and creating.
I set out with my friend H., who has been known to take a decent photo or two, and we trekked into the wilderness for some camera fun. It's really a city park with a comfortable isolation from the urban area surrounding it. After snapping pictures for about forty-five minutes, we found ourselves at the end to the trail and standing by a highway. Twilight was coming up, but there was still some good light for a few patches of wildflowers. Another fifty yards away were train tracks, which was an opportunity I couldn't miss. A few captures later, I was set to head back and see what else we might have missed along the creek. H. proceeded along the tracks, with an intention of taking the long way around. I wondered at the wisdom, but had nowhere else to be. Also, I had never walked along tracks like this before. As we walked along commenting on the railroad ties, I had the feeling we were in our own version of "Stand By Me."
Eventually, we came to a road...and the need for a decision. Which way to the car? Light was rapidly fading, and the appeal of retracing our steps back along the tracks and through the darkened park was fading with it. We opted to press forward through the neighborhood. Fifteen minutes later, we began to express to one another our concerns that the difficulty of finding the car in an unfamiliar neighborhood with no real idea of where we were in relation to it might be daunting. We pressed on.
Eventually, we discovered a familiar detail, a street sign with a name that we had seen before. Then another and another after. Confidence building, our anxiety about wondering the streets of north Austin throughout the night waned. We began to see the humor of two guys out for an evening stroll with three cameras, at least two of which appeared professional. A few turns later, we arrived back at the car. Was it only two hours since we'd last seen it and struck out across the open field?
A later examination within Google Earth revealed we were less than a quarter mile from the car (though probably not an accessible line) when we struck out along the tracks. In total, it was a two and a half mile hike back around.
Once back home, I downloaded everything I had taken to my computer for closer inspection. The real lesson is that I have much to learn. Of course, with adventures like this, there should be plenty of opportunity.
I'm planning a trip to Germany for the fall. I'm excited about it, and reticent, because I've never been to Europe. In order to capture everything, I knew I needed a new camera. I wanted to buy it well in advance of my trip so that I wasn't frustrated with learning to operate it once there. I see an incredible example of fourteenth century architecture, then later try to recreate the image in my mind because what I see coming out of my camera is only a blurred underexposed mess.
Even the appellation of 'amateur' does not apply to my photographic skills. I am at most a photophile. I cannot just sit back and allow some programmer or engineer choose the best aperture, shutter, and exposure settings for my expeditions from some office in the northeast. No, I want control of those things myself. That's where the creativity comes in. A tweak to the light there, an intentional blur to the edges with center in sharp focus, purposefully underexposing to trick the eye into studying shadows. There is technical detail, familiarity, and a "sense" that are required to create a photograph. There is a difference between making and creating.
I set out with my friend H., who has been known to take a decent photo or two, and we trekked into the wilderness for some camera fun. It's really a city park with a comfortable isolation from the urban area surrounding it. After snapping pictures for about forty-five minutes, we found ourselves at the end to the trail and standing by a highway. Twilight was coming up, but there was still some good light for a few patches of wildflowers. Another fifty yards away were train tracks, which was an opportunity I couldn't miss. A few captures later, I was set to head back and see what else we might have missed along the creek. H. proceeded along the tracks, with an intention of taking the long way around. I wondered at the wisdom, but had nowhere else to be. Also, I had never walked along tracks like this before. As we walked along commenting on the railroad ties, I had the feeling we were in our own version of "Stand By Me."
Eventually, we came to a road...and the need for a decision. Which way to the car? Light was rapidly fading, and the appeal of retracing our steps back along the tracks and through the darkened park was fading with it. We opted to press forward through the neighborhood. Fifteen minutes later, we began to express to one another our concerns that the difficulty of finding the car in an unfamiliar neighborhood with no real idea of where we were in relation to it might be daunting. We pressed on.
Eventually, we discovered a familiar detail, a street sign with a name that we had seen before. Then another and another after. Confidence building, our anxiety about wondering the streets of north Austin throughout the night waned. We began to see the humor of two guys out for an evening stroll with three cameras, at least two of which appeared professional. A few turns later, we arrived back at the car. Was it only two hours since we'd last seen it and struck out across the open field?
A later examination within Google Earth revealed we were less than a quarter mile from the car (though probably not an accessible line) when we struck out along the tracks. In total, it was a two and a half mile hike back around.
Once back home, I downloaded everything I had taken to my computer for closer inspection. The real lesson is that I have much to learn. Of course, with adventures like this, there should be plenty of opportunity.
input
It's likely most things I say here aren't true of everyone, and this is probably one. That's the joy of being unique.
I love to type. This has nothing to do with writing or putting thoughts in any form on paper. Whenever my fingertips come to rest on the keyboard, it's like a homecoming. This is where they live, and where they feel most comfortable. It is a sense of peace for me. I think there might be something about the opportunity to be creative or productive, but there is a more primal nuance than that. It is tactile. It requires coordination and benefits from practice.
On occasion, I will set aside a few minutes to copy a page of text. There are several chapters of books saved to my hard drive for no other reason than the joy of typing one by one the letters of which they are comprised. I find it hard to pass keyboards on display in the store without typing something on them. It doesn't matter that they're not plugged into anything.
Typing is fun. Period.
I love to type. This has nothing to do with writing or putting thoughts in any form on paper. Whenever my fingertips come to rest on the keyboard, it's like a homecoming. This is where they live, and where they feel most comfortable. It is a sense of peace for me. I think there might be something about the opportunity to be creative or productive, but there is a more primal nuance than that. It is tactile. It requires coordination and benefits from practice.
On occasion, I will set aside a few minutes to copy a page of text. There are several chapters of books saved to my hard drive for no other reason than the joy of typing one by one the letters of which they are comprised. I find it hard to pass keyboards on display in the store without typing something on them. It doesn't matter that they're not plugged into anything.
Typing is fun. Period.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
questions coalesce
I ran into an old friend and mentor a couple weeks ago. He has knowledge of me of which I am wary. Most of it is from a third party and colored with plenty of perceptual errors, but it is knowledge nonetheless. I wonder if that makes sense to you. While I understand that inequity in relationships is more often the rule than the exception, I still see the growth of relationship in the economics of give and take. I know a little about you, and then you get to know a little about me. This cycle continues until one becomes comfortable with the understanding of another person. Some navigate with great speed, others favor a reduced pace. In this situation, the scales list in his favor.
This is why I refer to him as a mentor, and why I am wary. After several years in a much different vocation, he now is a professor at a good school. In our infrequent meetings over the past two years, he has spoken of how much he loves it. He always adds how much I would love it. I approached and greeted him warmly this day, excited to see him and hear about life and his family. Despite my desire to hear these things, I had someplace to be. So, I interrupted a conversation to deliver my greeting. He greeted me with joy, and immediately posed a question which disturbed me at the core.
"Have you made plans for graduate school yet?"
"Um, no."
"Are you still working at the same place?"
"Yes, I am."
"Do you enjoy it?"
Without realizing what I'm going to say, I reply "no."
"It was good to see you"
"Good to see you, too" I manage to say. I imagine the shock I felt was visible.
Such a short exchange. He turned back to his conversation and I left to go to lunch. His question sits in my mind like a large, inconveniently placed rock. If necessary, I can go around it, but it takes effort. I know it’s there. Especially telling is my negative response when asked about my job. The past year (or more) has been a series of stressful events and unexpected changes. Work has induced headaches, doubt, depression, frustration, and indifference. It has also again and again tested my capabilities. Each time I’ve been able to stare an issue down and declare that I am capable. There is fun in my work in that it affords opportunities to learn and expand my skills. Yet, I am sometimes reminded I was never supposed to go into technology. I studied history, and I sense a calling to share that with others.
Why have I not returned to school? I have many reasons. I make more money now than I would as a grad student. While I was originally convinced that I should teach and write history, I wonder now if that is the best discipline for my talent. I don’t know that my parents are supportive. I think my mother is more interested that I find a wife than another degree for the wall. I am single. I don’t know whether this is a silly reason. Most people in the scope of my experience have pursued the upper echelons of education without the burden of social unknowns. I don’t want to leave Austin, which would be a likely consequence. On one level some of these compel consideration; on another level, they represent empty excuses.
I described to a friend several nights ago my sense that I had somehow betrayed the cause. Since halting my progression in academia, I have in some way sold out. She was dubious. There are many things to ponder, and I acknowledge concerns in this world that far outweigh whether I will in the future teach. There are several things in the shorter term that may factor into any decision. It is still awesome that someone has the ability to be so incisive with so few words.
This is why I refer to him as a mentor, and why I am wary. After several years in a much different vocation, he now is a professor at a good school. In our infrequent meetings over the past two years, he has spoken of how much he loves it. He always adds how much I would love it. I approached and greeted him warmly this day, excited to see him and hear about life and his family. Despite my desire to hear these things, I had someplace to be. So, I interrupted a conversation to deliver my greeting. He greeted me with joy, and immediately posed a question which disturbed me at the core.
"Have you made plans for graduate school yet?"
"Um, no."
"Are you still working at the same place?"
"Yes, I am."
"Do you enjoy it?"
Without realizing what I'm going to say, I reply "no."
"It was good to see you"
"Good to see you, too" I manage to say. I imagine the shock I felt was visible.
Such a short exchange. He turned back to his conversation and I left to go to lunch. His question sits in my mind like a large, inconveniently placed rock. If necessary, I can go around it, but it takes effort. I know it’s there. Especially telling is my negative response when asked about my job. The past year (or more) has been a series of stressful events and unexpected changes. Work has induced headaches, doubt, depression, frustration, and indifference. It has also again and again tested my capabilities. Each time I’ve been able to stare an issue down and declare that I am capable. There is fun in my work in that it affords opportunities to learn and expand my skills. Yet, I am sometimes reminded I was never supposed to go into technology. I studied history, and I sense a calling to share that with others.
Why have I not returned to school? I have many reasons. I make more money now than I would as a grad student. While I was originally convinced that I should teach and write history, I wonder now if that is the best discipline for my talent. I don’t know that my parents are supportive. I think my mother is more interested that I find a wife than another degree for the wall. I am single. I don’t know whether this is a silly reason. Most people in the scope of my experience have pursued the upper echelons of education without the burden of social unknowns. I don’t want to leave Austin, which would be a likely consequence. On one level some of these compel consideration; on another level, they represent empty excuses.
I described to a friend several nights ago my sense that I had somehow betrayed the cause. Since halting my progression in academia, I have in some way sold out. She was dubious. There are many things to ponder, and I acknowledge concerns in this world that far outweigh whether I will in the future teach. There are several things in the shorter term that may factor into any decision. It is still awesome that someone has the ability to be so incisive with so few words.
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