Timschel
So.
There's a nifty new(?) feature on livejournal that allows me to tell that it's been 17 weeks since my last update without having to count backwards on my fingers. Long hiatuses from livejournal always make me feel like I should summarize everything that's happened in those past weeks or months. [Job. Family. Train. Piano. Books. International phone calls. Computer Science.] I could elaborate, but instead I will share with you a conversation that I had with my pwr teacher yesterday morning.
To give you some background, PWR = program in writing and rhetoric. There are two required PWR classes where the main thrust of each is to hone rhetorical skills by writing a long-ish research paper. There are many different themes for the classes (film music, human rights, "international ethics"), but somehow I got placed in "Open your eyes: seeing through rhetoric." Like what does that even mean? I've smugly renamed it "The PWR of PWR" in my head and have this niggling feeling that I'm wasting my time every time I go to class.
So yesterday I was talking about my potential research topic with my teacher, and of course it was nebulous and vaguely defined (much like the theme of the class). I don't remember the last time I was assigned a research paper and my response was, "Cool! I've always wanted to know more about the migration patterns of Thompson's gazelles." (Actually it might have been in fifth grade when I researched the Masaai tribe for Mrs. Tornatore and eagerly wrote out color-coded notecards based on 32-page large-print books on the subject.)
Regardless. I discussed the twelve ideas about poetic memory and specificity and identity and communication that fascinate me and felt like a tool because all of the questions I posed were so non-rigorous and specific to my own perceptions. So instead of coming up with a topic for me, we discussed my cherished ideas about the mind and perception. Eventually she asked me why I think that people communicate about generalized topics (I'm living in...; I work for...; My summer was...; I'm majoring in...) when we had just decided that moments and images and a trembling C# minor chord are what shape the way we live (and the beauty we seek). I told her that it was because most people don't find value in the tiny instances of beauty that only they see. It doesn't matter to them the way that being democratic and Catholic matters. I mean, to a certain extent, we are what people can know about us.
But I think maybe I was wrong. Maybe the reason why we summarize our lives with practiced stories and tell only our closest confidants our quirky ruminations is because we value them more than anything else. "My 13-year-old brother is obsessed with cars to the point where our neighbors came to him for advice when they were car shopping" vs "I applied for internships today and I think I want to work in a lab this summer." Telling things that we already know is dismissive and maybe even protective of the details that we secretly love.
Ask someone a question today that they don't know the answer to, and watch him create himself. Have unpracticed conversations, especially with me.
There are many exciting college-y and teenager-y things happening in my life right now, too, but apparently I've given up summary (and should go eat food). Happy Saturday.
There's a nifty new(?) feature on livejournal that allows me to tell that it's been 17 weeks since my last update without having to count backwards on my fingers. Long hiatuses from livejournal always make me feel like I should summarize everything that's happened in those past weeks or months. [Job. Family. Train. Piano. Books. International phone calls. Computer Science.] I could elaborate, but instead I will share with you a conversation that I had with my pwr teacher yesterday morning.
To give you some background, PWR = program in writing and rhetoric. There are two required PWR classes where the main thrust of each is to hone rhetorical skills by writing a long-ish research paper. There are many different themes for the classes (film music, human rights, "international ethics"), but somehow I got placed in "Open your eyes: seeing through rhetoric." Like what does that even mean? I've smugly renamed it "The PWR of PWR" in my head and have this niggling feeling that I'm wasting my time every time I go to class.
So yesterday I was talking about my potential research topic with my teacher, and of course it was nebulous and vaguely defined (much like the theme of the class). I don't remember the last time I was assigned a research paper and my response was, "Cool! I've always wanted to know more about the migration patterns of Thompson's gazelles." (Actually it might have been in fifth grade when I researched the Masaai tribe for Mrs. Tornatore and eagerly wrote out color-coded notecards based on 32-page large-print books on the subject.)
Regardless. I discussed the twelve ideas about poetic memory and specificity and identity and communication that fascinate me and felt like a tool because all of the questions I posed were so non-rigorous and specific to my own perceptions. So instead of coming up with a topic for me, we discussed my cherished ideas about the mind and perception. Eventually she asked me why I think that people communicate about generalized topics (I'm living in...; I work for...; My summer was...; I'm majoring in...) when we had just decided that moments and images and a trembling C# minor chord are what shape the way we live (and the beauty we seek). I told her that it was because most people don't find value in the tiny instances of beauty that only they see. It doesn't matter to them the way that being democratic and Catholic matters. I mean, to a certain extent, we are what people can know about us.
But I think maybe I was wrong. Maybe the reason why we summarize our lives with practiced stories and tell only our closest confidants our quirky ruminations is because we value them more than anything else. "My 13-year-old brother is obsessed with cars to the point where our neighbors came to him for advice when they were car shopping" vs "I applied for internships today and I think I want to work in a lab this summer." Telling things that we already know is dismissive and maybe even protective of the details that we secretly love.
Ask someone a question today that they don't know the answer to, and watch him create himself. Have unpracticed conversations, especially with me.
There are many exciting college-y and teenager-y things happening in my life right now, too, but apparently I've given up summary (and should go eat food). Happy Saturday.