budynski

Womb Envy?

2010-03-17T14:09:00.000-07:00

Freshmen at Berkeley are taking “The Cyberculture Imaginary –– From Login to Disembodiment.” They’re reading Donna Haraway. They’re studying Cyber Culture. They’re learning how important programming is in media culture. They’re learning about cultural constructs and how we’re designed and programmed to express ourselves. They’re being taught to ask questions like, “Does new media help us explore new patterns of behavior. They’re learning how we are in a “post biological period,” and we’re shifting away from the experience of the body, and they’re discussing the “boundary between human consciousness and computational consciousness.” All pretty heady stuff, and I say good for them. So why is it that the most I remember from the introductory pod–casts has to do with “womb envy?”

Womb envy was conceived as a reason why computers have been bestowed a feminine nature, and it’s “problematic.” It allows for the question, “Is the computer a submissive tool, or is it a device that has secret power?” As proof of male womb envy, I’m told, the first screen saver said, “take me, I’m yours.” And the whole idea sounds like a joke to me, mainly because I simply don’t believe that men have been advancing technology because they somehow felt their creative efforts were a substitute for giving birth. Men have been inventive mainly because they wanted to make whatever job in front of them easier on their bodies.

There’s an old saying in the construction trade –– “Show a lazy man a job, and he’ll find an easy way to do it.” It’s a joke of course, because there is a big difference between lazy and smart. A perfect example of making a job easier is the pneumatic nailer, and you’d never know how much easier it makes nailing unless you’ve actually spent some time nailing things together by hand. Of course, all technology becomes a tool of greed eventually. If the workers can nail it down faster then they should be able to put down more material for the same pay… right? I’ve watched technology go that greed–based route in more than just the building trades. Our “computational consciousness” is being used right now for amassing wealth more than anything else. And amassing wealth comes from one source: pure envy.

No, I’m not buying “womb envy.” It’s not even a good rationalization for the fact that the first computer screen saver said “take me, I’m yours.” Did you know that screen savers came out in the early eighties and a song by the New Wave Rock band Squeeze called “Take Me I’m Yours” hit the charts in 1978? It certainly leaves me wondering if that guy who programmed the first screen saver was into new wave rock music, because it sounds likely. But whether that’s true or not, womb envy, especially when applied to the invention of devices that just make work easier, sounds like a supercilious response to penis envy, and I don’t give either one of these ideas any real credence. In fact, I think ideas like this just get in the way of examining the much greater “problematic” consequence of pure envy, which can afflict anyone of us.

Games

2010-03-07T17:11:00.000-08:00

Games. Do they affect how we perceive life, and if so in what ways? I remember playing a lot of chess at one time, and when I was on a roll, the diagonal a bishop could travel to take an unprotected pawn would pop into my head while I was changing lanes on the highway. I used to dream about knights leaping rooks to take the queen, and chessboards swimming sideways, like angelfish in a fifty gallon aquarium. And I couldn’t wait to get my hands on another book about how to be a better chess player. Although I doubt that there exists a game player in cyberspace who can’t wait to get his or her hands on a book that will explain how to be a better cyber–killer, I do think that after hours on end of gunning down cyber opponents, the player would be prone to seeing bodies shot to hell in the minds eye at every other stop light. I also think that people who spend a lot of time shoot’n ‘em up on a computer screen, dream a lot about shoot’n ‘em up when they’re asleep. Unless of course, I’m the only person on this planet who flashes on, and dreams about things I’m totally immersed in.

A good source recently told me that there’s no way to measure whether video games contribute to violence, or desensitize us to it, so I haven’t bothered looking into studies on the subject any further –– especially since I also heard recently on a national TV news program the ridiculous statement that smoking three cigarettes a day will cause 70% of the damage to a human body as smoking 2 packs a day. Studies… who can trust them? So, when it comes to cyber games, I prefer to believe what my eyes tell me and let that be the basis for my own conclusions.

We live in an extremely competitive and violent society. In the white–washed news that shows us little of what goes on out there, it takes something “newsworthy,” a synonym for “marketable,” to occur before we get a glimpse of our reality. For instance, the young girl who got her head kicked around like a soccer ball when she was on the ground in that bus terminal. Now that was marketable, yet violence of this kind goes on undocumented and unnoticed in every city in our country every day. Young people have always been prone to aggression, and anyone who knew me when I was younger knows that I have no room to point a finger. However, I’m not pointing a finger, not at our youth anyway; and although I have strong feelings about the effects of computer games, I haven’t really come to a definitive conclusion yet, because I’m still wondering.

I’m wondering if our games have become so competitive and violent because they are just a reflection of who we are. I’m wondering whether instead of being an outlet for aggression, they actually help to perpetuate our competitive violent nature. I’m wondering whether the moguls who are raping our society have recognized competitive violent computer games as a wonderful way to appease the masses, much like the gladiatorial games were used in ancient Rome. And, of course, I’m wondering whether competitive violent computer games actually do contribute to our competitive violent nature. About the only thing I never find myself wondering about is whether competitive violent computer games promote a collective sense of empathy and cooperation.

Along for the Ride

2010-02-28T15:29:00.000-08:00

I read a blog recently that reminded of the main reason I think hypermediacy, or Freekyfro’s “web–induced ADD,” is a dangerous thing. At a time when we have a chance to become more aware of ourselves due to the incredible rate of growth in almost every area of learning and knowledge, we are also becoming more and more distracted from recognizing who we are due to a “network that has become the object rather than any real source fixed in space” (Freekyfro). In a frantic effort to erase any semblance of immediacy, hypermediacy demands “look at me.” Or, I suppose I should say “look at my disunity.” In its attempt to devour unity, it is the consummate snake eating its own tail, unaware it seems, that if it were to ever succeed in its efforts it would not only destroy unity, but also itself.

If the circle ever closed, it would lose its nature as a circle and become a dot, which I find ironic, because that would mean hypermediacy’s success would depend upon the creation of a unified field of vision. But at the same time, I see hypermediacy as not much different from any of the ways we have employed in the past to distract ourselves from ourselves... we’re just using digital technology to help us along in that process at a pace that at times seems to border on hysteria. Through the use of digital technology the dissemination of knowledge is growing exponentially while our ability to put that knowledge to good use is decreasing exponentially. We seem to be simply spellbound by it all, and unable to make a collective move toward conscious use of technological media, and our toys, that seem to be doing everything faster and better, also seem to be contributing to unconscious robotic behavior. And maybe that’s our future.

Maybe because we have grown exponentially as a species, hypermediacy is simply a reflection of what we are becoming. As time quick–marches into the future, at ever–increasing speed, we are beginning to look a lot like ants or bees, and questions concerning who we are as individuals are losing their value and meaning. This is perhaps the most dangerous result of hypermediacy. After all, in the end, we’re facing the same reality, and although a sense of contributing to the collective greater good is very important, this “sense” can only be achieved through an individual’s own growth in consciousness.

But then there is the thought that a person can be incredibly creative using hypermediacy in an inspired way. Artists will obviously end up using digital technology in the most thoughtful ways, the ways that have always had the most profound effect on us, although a scientist might argue that point. And who can really say, maybe the dot would be a better form than the circle because it would compress all views into one. But would that really be all that good? And around, and around, and around I go. In the end, all I can say for sure is that Bolter and Grusin’s Remediation is quite a circus ride.

2010-02-25T13:51:00.000-08:00

“…visual media…are constantly remediating one another and therefore reminding us of the futility of believing that any technology of representation can fully erase itself” (Bolter & Grusin Remediation 83).

Transparent Immediacy -- Impossible?

2010-02-22T11:59:00.000-08:00

At the end of chapter three in Remediation, after plowing through the lengthy exploration of the “psychosexual interpretation of the dichotomy between transparent immediacy and hypermediacy” (84), all I could say is “so what?” It’s not all that difficult to understand that “transparent immediacy attempts to achieve through linear perspective a single “right” representation of things […] while hypermediacy becomes the sum of all unconventional…ways of looking.” However, the final terse statement at the end of this chapter: “Transparency needs hypermediacy,” caused me to shake my head and wonder. Earlier in the book, Bolter and Grusin told me in the same succinct way that “immediacy depends upon hypermediacy” (6), so it was no jump to conclude that the authors believe that both transparency and immediacy, or transparent immediacy, needs and depends upon hypermediacy. But there seems to be –– maybe unintentional –– a deceptive psychological undertow created by this particular consideration of the remediated ocean we exist in. I feel like I’m being pulled along to accept the “futility of believing that any technology of representation can fully erase itself” (81), which is OK; but I also feel like I’m being pulled toward believing that hypermediacy will always reemerge due to the fact of impossible transparent immediacy.

Now there’s nothing wrong with a healthy fascination, and even a concentrated obsession is all right on occasion, but these authors are beyond fascination or obsession in Remediation. Consequently, their tightly focused vision creates a biased view, so narrow that it fails to take into account a certain reality that simply lies outside the realm of digital technological advancement, mediation, and remediation. This reality has to do with the non–technological transparent immediacy that can be achieved or shared between living, breathing human beings, the transparent immediacy that does not rely on hypermediacy because it does not rely on any form of media at all.

When I read the first page of Remediation, the following sentence nearly leapt off the page: “If the ultimate purpose of media is indeed to transfer sense experiences from one person to another, the wire threatens to make all media obsolete” (3). I remember thinking that media, as they say these days, has always–already been obsolete in the transference of sense experience between people. In fact, under the right circumstances, media isn’t even an issue. It’s superfluous… non–existent. How many times have each of us received a simultaneous impression with another, and with only a look, and sometimes not even that, shared the same inner “sense experience” –– the kind that really counts in human communication –– caused by that impression? How many times do we share this “transparent immediacy” with other human beings every day without any assistance at all from any form of technology? How many truly countless times has this type of “transference” happened over the eons of our existence between human beings engaged in the simple act of intimacy during the intake of a shared sensory perception?

Perhaps Bolter and Grusin’s grand obsession with the theory of remediation does serve a good purpose by “reminding us of the futility of believing that any technology of representation can fully erase itself.” However, I remain convinced that human beings not only have the capacity to engage in transparent immediacy, but that they do it all the time. In other words, in spite of the psychological current created by Remediation and designed to convince me that hypermediacy is transparent immediacy’s only hope, I believe that transparent immediacy does not “need” hypermediacy, and that “the rich sensorium of human experience” (34) is always–already shared during states of intimacy between human beings.

The Mills

2010-02-17T16:33:00.000-08:00

Avoiding Seppuku

2010-02-15T11:08:00.000-08:00

I read an interesting article in the L.A. times today stating that Toyota could be facing financial ruin because of the likely possibility that their “sudden acceleration” problem is due to faulty microprocessors or engine control modules. Not only would this kind of technological problem be very expensive to fix on a large scale, but it would also be a “tremendously difficult thing to spot,” according to Ronald Jurgen, electrical engineer. The reporter who wrote the article refers to the problem as an electronic ‘ghost’ waiting patiently to haunt the Japanese automotive manufacturer, and I suppose there just may be some top level computer designers over at Toyota who could meet that ghost, literally, after reestablishing, for their own purposes, the ancient Samurai practice of Seppuku.

That the problem facing Toyota is grave, there can be no doubt, and I believe there’s a lesson here relative to the world of technological advancement in the classroom. All along, I’ve believed Toyota’s problem was electronic, but the fact that Toyota is going to the wall by insisting it’s a mechanical problem proves one thing for certain in my eyes. We should be very careful about designating certain jobs to computers, and not only those jobs that require the solid and dependable characteristics of physical mechanics, like a throttle linkage. I also think jobs that require human contact, which by nature should concern all of us in the humanities, are prime candidates for critical analysis when technological advancement is being considered in the classroom. The idea from Selber concerning “what is lost as well as what is gained” plays a big role in this area.

Even though I do believe that technology in the classroom is going to mushroom and that someday in the near future we will be composing in wonderful new ways, the core of what we teach –– our identity as human beings concerned with our own growth and the growth of others –– has to remain our primary concern. Continually reminding ourselves of this aim is a good way to keep from inadvertently creating a sterile technological environment in the classroom, or thoughtlessly counting on technology to take care of too much for us. No matter what the outcome of Toyota’s problem, it is beginning to look like the damage done to their reputation is already irreversible. If we want to keep safe the reputation of the humanities as an area concerned with the study of the human condition, then we’d do well to look long and hard with a critical eye before overusing technology in areas requiring human interaction.

Response to Nya (couldn't post a comment)

2010-02-04T23:45:00.000-08:00

The idea that the scholarly "competency requirements" you mention "fail to situate technology in social, political, and economic contexts," has bothered me for a long time. I've watched "collaboration and consensual decision-making" get sucked into the vortex of corporate America, and now I too am concerned about the future of technological advancements. However, I'm feeling a bit of relief because at least we are recognizing the need to consider "the implications technology has on social and political environments." If Selber is saying what I think he is, it's a sign that we are beginning to wake up.

Different genres and technology

2010-02-04T21:13:00.000-08:00

I’m starting to see a link between the idea of teaching students the importance of considering the use of elements from different genres in freshman composition classes and the use of technological communication in the future. I'm also starting to think that someday composition will be done only on computers, using imagery along with words, much the same as we are doing now in our “visual essays.” I even think it’s possible that eventually we will be producing academic “essays” that have no resemblance at all to the type produced today in that they will count on imagery as foundational and words for embellishment. This I think is a good thing, because it has the potential to free us up from the confines of the written page and allow for more creative self–expression.

A second thought

2010-01-31T02:10:00.000-08:00

A lot has changed since Cynthia Selfe wrote this book. It hardly needs to be mentioned that the world we live in is storming all around us. But eleven years ago, things looked rosy –– especially for technology. The dot com. bubble was growing fast in 1999, and that’s something I just plain forgot about in my earlier assessment of Selfe’s call to “acknowledge the economic and political goals that policymakers have identified as the end product of technology expansion: the effort to maintain and extend American privilege, influence, and power…” (161). I was blinded by my anger over recent developments in America, but now I suppose Selfe had a right to feel that she and America were riding high on a prosperous tide pulled along by technology. However, even though this is not the same America, or world, that Selfe was immersed in back when she wrote this book, I still think her advice is sound. Understanding that our environment acts on us in consequence to the way we act on it, and that the whole thing is reciprocal, still calls for paying attention. Now more than ever.

Democracy?

2010-01-23T23:49:00.000-08:00

I guess what bothered me most about "Technology and Literacy in the Twenty–First Century" is the equation I kept seeing between democracy and corporate capitalism. Just recently, the last nail in the coffin of democracy in the United States was driven home when corporations were given the same rights as individuals –– the right to “freedom of speech.” Anyone who’s been “paying attention” knows that this means unbridled ownership of the airwaves, and that now, corporations will be able to pump as much money as they please from their “war chests” into advertisements to see that their candidates are elected. Do we really want to extend this type of “privilege, influence, and power” into cyberspace? I question who owns the internet now. Everywhere I go, no matter how little I surf, I run into someone trying to sell me something. The corporate world is entrenched in cyberspace, and it appears, if I can trust their track–record, they will be clamping down on it with an iron fist in the future. After all, now that they’ve got the networks of the American empire completely in their pockets, what’s left?

Just Wondering

2010-01-13T00:24:00.000-08:00

The intro to “Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man” poses a lot of questions. One has to do with “the dilemma of Western Man,” who, having acquired from “the technology of literacy” the “power to act without reacting,” now finds this ability a hindrance in “the electric age.” Noninvolvement just won’t do anymore according to Marshall McLuhan, because “when our central nervous system is technologically extended to involve us in the whole of mankind and to incorporate the whole of mankind in us, we necessarily participate, in depth, in the consequences of our every action” (20). Is McLuhan suggesting that karmic law didn’t exist prior to the “electric age,” or that as we “implode” into this new universe karmic law will increase “in depth?” And what does that mean? Will it become faster because it follows us along at our own ever-increasing pace?

A bit too cerebral

2009-03-15T20:09:00.000-07:00

Considering what it means to be a cyborg can become a bit too cerebral. I know this because spending four or five days immersed in contemplation over writing a cyborg rhetoric bent my brain. It also probably made some of my friends scratch their heads wondering why I had difficulty holding on a simple conversation. Spending the next four days writing a first draft of a cyborg rhetoric broke my brain… but, whenever I break my brain, I seem to have a realization of one kind or another. What I realized this afternoon, after walking away from my computer, was just how good it felt to have a bunch of wood rounds to split. And how much better it felt to actually split them. And while I was splitting wood, I had another realization. If we ever do become “quintessence,” or the pure embodiment of consciousness, there’s a lot of physical activities I’m going to miss way more than splitting wood.

What is cyborg rhetoric?

2009-03-08T22:49:00.000-07:00

Cyborg rhetoric, among other things, is a call to action. It is a call to re–invent rhetoric, and change the meaning of our existence. Donna Haraway states, “over the last thirty years, a class war of immense proportions has been waged globally, and it’s been very successful. At the same time, we’ve almost lost the ability to talk in class terms on what used to be called ‘the left.’ That’s a terrible loss on our part” (14, Haraway, interview with Gary A. Olsen, JAC Vol. 16, Vol. 1). To regain our “ability to talk in class terms” we must again begin to actively discuss this nation’s global agenda in “class terms” in the academic setting. Cyborg rhetoric acknowledges the need for resistance to grow on all fronts; therefore, if we are to be true to the dream, activism in academics has to move into the public sphere. It is no longer acceptable to pour our efforts into changing the hierarchal structure in the classroom alone. Our goal must be to struggle against oppressive ideologies across the board, and this means recognizing the ideology of oppression has crossed gender lines, and infiltrated racial and ethnic circles.

consciousness

2009-03-01T01:42:00.000-08:00

What does it mean to be a conscious human being taking into account the mind and the body? There are so many levels of human consciousness that it’s impossible to answer this question in a general way… but one way to look at it would be to consider what it might mean to be a human mind without a body. That it’s possible has been documented. Completely paralyzed people, for instance, could be said to be a mind without a body, but that always makes it seem so undesirable. But then, there’s this other idea –– I’ve seen it on film -- Tibetan monks, sitting in sub–zero temperatures, bodies steaming while minds are steeped in deep meditation. This idea, that our consciousness doesn’t so much depend on our bodies as it does on our minds, seems much more desirable than thinking about being paralyzed. I mean, what would it be like to be in a state where only your eyes could move? I know I would probably be thinking that just being able to unclog a toilet would be fun. But really, who even wants to consider that? Now the other idea, that we can control our bodies, seemingly without effort, can lead to some interesting ideas about consciousness and where it resides.

What if?

2009-02-22T08:18:00.000-08:00

What if embodiment is an action rather than a being? My initial reaction to the question was “it’s both.” The reaction came from my gut… it was a feeling, but that’s not the only reason I believe embodiment is both –– or being in action. However, I do think embodiment could be the action of a body without “meat.” After reading chapter nine in “How We Became Post–human,” I think the creators of Artificial Life are proving there can be life that is nothing more than action and information. I also think it’s possible for humans to evolve into this state, and that perhaps this state will become our ultimate condition. But for the time being, it is not our choice.

Where'd they get the plot?

2009-02-15T23:26:00.000-08:00

I heard somewhere along the line that the movie “Groundhog Day” is a light–hearted portrayal of P.D. Ouspensky’s theory of recurrence, and after watching “The Matrix” for the first time I thought that maybe it was an enigmatic portrayal of Gurdjieff’s philosophy –– focusing on the immersive hypnotic effect of the Magician on the sheep to keep them asleep. This time around, I took some notes while watching that movie, and I now think it’s highly arguable that it has at least incorporated some of Gurdjieff’s philosophy.

Just a little of the irony

2009-02-08T01:43:00.000-08:00

What does Harraway mean by an ironic dream? I suppose the most obvious irony is the fact that she has to struggle with the use the language of binaries to undermine the language of binaries. Her dream is also ironic, at least in part I think, because it realizes the only “common language” available to the cyborg is no language at all. “Our best machines are made of sunshine; they are all light and clean because they are nothing but signals, electromagnetic waves, a section of a spectrum, and these machines are eminently portable, mobile […] People are nowhere near so fluid, being both material and opaque. Cyborgs are ether, quintessence” (5). Such a “fluid” world, it seems, would be bound only by swirling, energetic particles, with no need to communicate other than with a momentary passing of energy, one to the other. Yet, that too is ironic, because a momentary passing of energy would automatically equate to a “common language.”

There Is Justice

2009-01-31T10:46:00.000-08:00

Thinking about what goes on inside complicates the question of the virtual and the real, because it leads to the conclusion that since I live in two worlds in the real world already, the outer and the inner, a virtual world is actually a 3rd world. So, if I were to sit quietly and enter my inner world in a closed room in Lambda Moo, would the inside I visited be a 4th world? Of course not. We all know that would be a ridiculous statement, because nobody needs technology to go into his or her inner world to begin with. No matter which world we’re in ––the real or the virtual–– we’re in the same inside. And this means, in reality, if he isn’t a true sociopath, Mr. Bungle committed a very real crime against himself.

2009-01-26T11:35:00.001-08:00

Out with the old and in with the new… we no longer discuss the possibility of an all encompassing place of clarity, of yes and no, outside the circle containing the yin and the yang. Now that place is said to be found inside the circle on the line between the two figures. That place of yes and no is now described as the place between the sign and the signified –– the slash between the Sign/Signified. This is exactly opposite in juxtaposition with the place of the line in the old religion, yet both represent a way to transcend duality. What’s next?

2009-01-26T11:35:00.000-08:00

2009-01-20T01:27:00.000-08:00

I’d love to enter a VR world in its finest form to enact a plot. However, since I enact a plot in reality, my plane of existence responsible for the twists and turns, not to mention there are so many ways to be creative in this world, I don’t think I’ll lament over the fact that experiencing the ultimate VR world is not in the cards for me. And you can say sour grapes, but how could VR, even though some dream of it as “total art,” possibly be considered “the ultimate medium?” Art is meant to be shared.

Dreams

2008-11-29T00:23:00.000-08:00

At first, I didn’t quite know what to make of “Feminisms, Genders, and Sexualities.” As I read, the word “staccato” kept popping into my head and I kept wondering how much of the varied history I would remember or what my final impression would be. It seemed to come at me like a too quick inspection of a patch–quilt, and I just couldn’t seem to get a handle on the page after page description of so many different ways to view the subject matter. For a long time now, I’ve been aware of the fact that there is no simple way to look at gender and sexuality; I’ve met so many people in my life that differ in these areas in so many ways. It wasn’t until I read the following words that I was finally given something I could hold onto: “It is clear from this overview that subfields of feminist and sexuality studies are diverse and multiplying” (237). At that moment, an old familiar unequivocal idea popped into my head, and what I was feeling made sense one more time. For better or for worse I’m a white–hetero–male living in a world of incredibly diverse genders and sexualities, and when that came to mind, so did the last verse from an old Bob Dylan song called “Talkin’ World War III Blues.” It goes like this ––

Well, now time passed and now it seems
Everybody’s having them dreams.
Everybody sees themselves walkin’ around with no one else.
Half of the people can be part right all of the time,
some of the people can be all right part of the time,
but all of the people can’t be all right all of the time.
I think Abraham Lincoln said that.
“I’ll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours,”
I said that.

The Other Side of the Borderland

2008-11-22T01:10:00.000-08:00

It was a natural progression for me to head straight into contemplation after reading Susan Stanford Friedman’s essay on how the “new” concept of globalization has led to the naming and claiming of a new field in postmodern studies. All her talk about geography, borderlands, Diaspora, migration etc., led me straight to a place inside my mind that’s been anticipating a visit for over a month now. The lighting was just right, the atmosphere hospitable, and the conversation could not have been more relaxed and informative. With the help of a few old friends, I got a chance to see other places I’d been traveling to inside myself recently, and I'm really not all that happy with what I saw. Some of those neighborhoods were downright ugly, and the images have left a pretty strong impression.

I saw myself walking down dark streets, lit only by dim flickering gas lamps and the dull glow from dirty windows in dilapidated tenement buildings. The night air was cold, and seeped through my jacket on a biting wind. The characters were all hardcases sitting on stoops, leaning on walls, or just staring at me as I passed by. The sideway glance one guy gave me said, “what–the–hell–you–been–comin’–down–here–for?” –– just as I was wondering the same thing myself. And that was only one of the shabby, rundown neighborhoods I've trudged through in the past month or so.

That long moment of meditation, afforded me by Friedman's "Migrations, Diasporas, and Borders," has led to the realization that I’ve been using a lot of external happenings as a reason for feeling hot–tempered lately. But now that the elections are over, nobody got assassinated, and the California Supreme Court voted 6–1 to hear legal arguments against an oppressive proposition, I’ve got no more excuses. Of course, the more personal reasons for my heading down to the dark end of the street are best left for conversations between me and the Milky–Way; but that’s for later. Right now, after seeing clearly where I’ve been, I think I’ve taken the first step toward turning around and heading for the more sunny amiable places on the other side of the borderland. The beach, that’s where I’m heading, and after I’ve lost track of time lazing around with some old friends there, I might just take a long walk in the open woods before cruising up to the jazzy side of town where the music floats by on a warm breeze and everybody’s got a kind word and a good sense of humor.

It’s not that I’ve left these better places behind altogether; in fact, I have been drifting back and forth between them much of the time lately. But tonight, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been walking too often into places that I have no business visiting because they leave nothing but a negative effect on my attitude, and if I keep heading into those dingy back alley’s, it’s just going to become harder and harder to get back out each time. Another thing I know right now is that I’m feeling a sense of gratitude toward Susan Stanford Friedman for sparking a train of thought that led me to an over–due visit with some old friends that have a nice quiet little place a long ways off from the hustle and bustle out there in our globalized society.

Removing Ambiguity

2008-11-16T11:00:00.000-08:00

They Say/I Say is really getting good. The chapter on honoring your own voice –– and not getting trapped in the thinking that one must use academic jargon in order to make one’s point –– put a smile on my face. I mean, if it’s the intention of the academic world to open its doors to a more diverse population, then encouraging people to appreciate their own way of speaking is imperative. Also, reminding us all that we have a right to say what comes naturally in order to help get our point across is timely, I think, after reading some of the stifling, overly done essays I’ve been assigned lately. I can’t tell you how often I’ve looked to the ceiling shaking my head while wishing the authors of certain texts would just write in a more straightforward manner, and I’ve also wondered if those same authors choose to write ambiguously just because they know that if they used down–to–earth language, no one would buy what they’re selling. Which is another reason to state things plainly… we have no place to hide that way, and I think readers appreciate that. I know I do.

The best essay I’ve read recently was the condensed, reworking of a conference speech. I didn’t find this out until after I’d read the essay. But, after thinking about it, I’m convinced that the author, Robert Connors, delivered the speech in a natural style because I remember how his essay came at me like a breath of fresh air after plowing through several dry, heady, confusing texts. His paper, for me, stood out as one that had ethos, pathos, and logos in such a wonderful combination that it shined. I loved his humor, I believed his logic, and the unassuming quality of his writing made it easy to trust him. I honestly did see him as a person using relatively down–to–earth language to get his point across rather than one who uses the kind of stiff academic language that oftentimes just gets in the way. The obvious reason Connor’s essay was such a joy to read is that the author wrote in his own voice, for the most part, and not in the voice of a highly trained academic writer. His position on the subject at hand, which he barely hinted at throughout the essay, became clear only at the end, but that was by design. Even though I disagreed with him, I remember thinking that his was the most memorable essay I’d read… and for me, as a sample of clean writing, it may remain the most memorable from that course. And it’s all because this author, who knew full–well how to write in high form academically, honored his own voice and spoke naturally.

I thought the authors of They Say/I Say would have to go some in order to top that chapter and they did with the chapter on “metacommentary.” The first paragraph under the heading “Use Metacommentary To Clarify And Elaborate” is one I’m thinking of copying, blowing up, and hanging on the wall somewhere. I’m also thinking of doing the same with some of the “passages” inserted by the authors of They Say/I Say. I loved the way these passages from other writers were used to drive home certain concepts, and even though this may be off the subject of writing lessons, as far as I’m concerned, those passages have been acting as meta–messages throughout the book, and of course, I love them because I agree with them. For instance, I couldn’t agree more with the statements, “the content of much of our public discourse has become dangerous nonsense” (126), and “show business has created…a destructive form of public discourse” (127). These lines come from only two of many poignant “passages” peppered throughout this book to illustrate writing lessons, and I believe these excerpts are worth reading just for the sake of contemplation. But for writing lessons, these two chapters have been the most encouraging for me because they not only suggest that we all remember our right to say what we mean in our own language, but also that, in order to write with more clarity, we should not be afraid to delve deeper into what we are thinking. This is turning out to be a great book.

Misinterpretation

2008-11-07T23:26:00.000-08:00

I began reading Jerome McGann’s essay “Interpretation,” with my feet propped on the make–shift desk in my study. The book was in my lap and I quickly became engrossed, wondering if what I was reading was adding up to the idea that I had complete freedom to interpret his text any way I wanted to. I was so intrigued by the idea that as I reached for my coffee cup, I accidentally spilled a drop on the page containing the words, "As the literary work passes on through time and other hands…it bears along with and as itself the gathered history of all its engagements. Sometimes some of these codes [are]…physical transformations, like book damage […] Often, perhaps even more often, those multiplying histories have to be pursued; who were the readers of the book…?” I stared at the seemingly innocuous coffee stain wondering… wondering whom in the future might get lost in wonder while pondering its presence on the page... and about the nature of the person who spilled it.

As I read on, I could barely hold back the excitement I felt when reading the line, “Literary works can be, have been, performed in a variety of interpretive ways, ‘Did you ever read one of her poems backwards…? A something takes over the mind.’ That is Emily Dickinson’s remarkable proposal for a recitation–based method of radical reinterpretation” (162). Right then and there, I decided to retrace my study of McGann’s essay, reading right to left instead of left to right. At first, I was uncertain whether to just read the sentences backwards, or the words themselves. But, I quickly opted for reading each word in reverse, because, if I was going to do this thing, I was going to do it right. I was on a quest, a glorious quest, bound and determined to find that “something” that would “take over my mind.” The reverse study of this portion of the essay (two pages), took twelve hours, but it was the most rewarding twelve hours I’ve ever experienced. By the time I reached the coffee stain on the previous page, I was in a state of delirious confusion so intense, so concentrated, so magnificently profound that explication defies description. I saw “something” in that coffee stain, something destined to forever remain as only a vision, only an apparition, only a taste of the infinite mystery of life itself.

I have now decided to read all texts backwards, and I’ll gladly take the heat for having absolutely no understanding of what the authors may have had in mind. I am now dedicated to a new and wonderful way of interpreting the work of others without regard for their thoughts or meaning, for as McGann points out at the end of his essay:

To deliberately accept the inevitable failure of interpretive adequacy is to work toward discovering new interpretive virtues […] Riding’s attitude toward the process of critical thinking is helpful: ‘our minds are still moving, and backward as well as forward; the nearest we get to truth at any given moment is, perhaps, only an idea––a dash of truth somewhat flavouring the indeterminate substance of our minds.’ This thought calls for a critical method intent on baring its own devices. We take it seriously because it makes sure that we do not take it too seriously. (168)

God, I love that last line.

Feeling Overwhelmed

2008-11-01T00:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I’ve had enough fun with Aristotle’s Topoi. Trying to figure out how to inject a topic of invention into whatever blog I happened to be writing lately has been enjoyable, and his topic “the possible and the impossible” turned out to be something I found useful last night at midnight while writing another poem about…hmm…that’s enough about that. Right now, I’m in the mood to do a little focused free writing about what’s going on inside concerning the Oxford Guide to Library Research, and the amount of information it contains, in the hopes it will ease this feeling of being overwhelmed.

This is a great book. If there was a way I could open the top of my head and pour this stuff in, I’d do it… but the more I read, the more I realize it’ll take at least two years to understand even half of the methods, tricks, and pathways it has to offer for doing research efficiently. I mean, in the first place, just last week, I found it hard to stay on top of this book, which is regrettable, and in the second, I’ve been aware from the start that this is the type of information I will only ever understand by using it in trial and error situations. In other words, hands–on work is going to be necessary to grasp the myriad ways I’m being shown to attack a research project, and hands–on work doing research, for me, takes a lot of thoughtful time. And, these days, it seems to be hard to find any kind of time. For instance, the other day I had to decide whether it was more important to stop for an In–and–Out burger, or stop for gas. I opted for the gas because I figured it would be better to reach my destination hungry than find myself sitting on the side of the road with a full belly and a long walk. But I’m digressing.

Here’s the paragraph from OGLR that lead to this train of thought –– “A repeated theme of this book is that no one way of searching does everything […] You simply have to be aware of the trade–offs among the several search techniques so that your overall strategy can balance their various strengths and weaknesses against each other. Remember, though, that what you cannot do with one way of searching, you can do with another” (133). OK, I get that… but at this point, even though I’m thirsty for knowledge of the techniques contained in this book, and I wouldn’t mind a drink, I feel like I’ve asked for a glass of water and somebody tossed the contents of a bucket in my face. Not that that’s a bad thing. Someday, after going over this stuff enough, in real life situations, I’ll get more and more of a grasp on how to become a good researcher. But at the moment, I really can’t see myself on a “search for articles whose authors are in the English Department of Loyola University of Chicago,” or any other university for that matter, and plugging in something similar to “AD=loyola u* AND AD=eng* AND AD=chicago.” This whole book seems to be suggesting that I figure out a lot of different codes, which I believe would be fun because I do have a nerdy side. But unfortunately, I feel like I have to try and do it between fill–ups and wolfing down junk food, so I’ve decided to take baby steps, and hang onto this book as a reference guide. And who knows? Maybe in a couple years I’ll be able to find any article written by any professor at any university in any country around the world. And, if I can do that, I’ll die a happy man.

Sometimes There is No Argument

2008-10-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

You can say, “Yeah, yeah, yeah” if you like, but it won’t matter to me… I know the truth. There’s no two ways about it in this argument, because this one is cut and dried, black and white, without any gray areas at all. In fact, I’ll go to my grave defending the truth in this matter. And the truth is: I did not read ahead in They Say I Say (to the part that talks about the value of taking the “yes and no” stance rather than the “yes or no” stance) prior to writing my October 12th blog. If you’re scratching your head about now, here’s a quote from that blog –– “I still can’t figure out why people insist on the ‘yes or no’ instead of the ‘yes and no’ of it.” So, now that I’ve refreshed your memory –– go ahead. Go ahead and say it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I know you want to. So go right on ahead. Hell, I’d even tell you that since I haven’t gotten around to writing my profile, and you don’t know me from Adam, you’d be justified. But, you should also know that I will never waver on the issue. I will only repeat. I did not read Chapter four prior to writing my October 12th blog discussing the “yes and no” of autonomous versus mechanical speech. I’ve just always seemed to have an affinity or fondness for looking at the yes and no of important issues.

Everything I seem to be studying these days is based on the yes or no of something. Product vs. Process, Minimalist vs. Directive tutoring, mainstream Dialogue vs. ethnic Dialogue, and the list is endless when you include the world at large. For instance, Rove says the Democrats are responsible for deregulation while anyone with a brain in their skull that’s bigger than a bb in a boxcar knows otherwise, which only serves to prove –– anything can be argued. Aristotle’s Topoi, and Rhetoric in general, supports the idea that structuring an argument is of utmost importance if you want to make your point stick, and the reason? Well, the reason is simply that since anything can be argued you might as well develop an arsenal. But, for me, the important issues, the philosophical issues, the issues that pertain to human nature, and consciousness deserve to be looked at from the yes and no perspective touted by the authors of They Say, I Say.

This little book contains a wealth of weapons for our arsenal of argument. Templates, structure, means for presenting our ideas are offered clearly and thoughtfully. The very idea that they strongly suggest we consider looking at the yes and no of issues is a point I believe cannot be over–emphasized. Of course, there are issues we’ve pondered long enough to develop a conviction concerning which side is the “right” side. But, in regard to arguments that endorse several different ideas, some of which we may be unsure of, I think these authors are wise to suggest that we only address those concepts we’ve considered more deeply. To say “I don’t know” about the rest is OK as far as I’m concerned, since it also shows the reader we’re being honest. Not only that, but why weaken our overall argument by attempting to address issues we are unprepared to address? Yes, They Say, I Say will help us improve our skills at presenting a case, and improving our skills at presenting a case is imperative, since anything can be argued… anything except, of course, whether or not I read ahead to chapter four before writing my October 12th blog… but you can go ahead and say it if you want to… I don’t care… it won’t matter to me… really… I know the truth… and the truth is the only witness I need.

Just Another Contradiction

2008-10-19T12:38:00.000-07:00

While plowing through Catherine Gallagher's essay "Historical Scholarship," it occurred to me over and over and over how little I know about most of her references. But, by sticking to it I was rewarded in that two seemingly separate concepts revealed themselves to be connected: first, her idea in the "READER" section that a text changes in scope and meaning largely due to the passage of time, which affects any given reader's perspective toward the material; second, (and my favorite found in the "AUTHOR" section) -- who is the author of any given text, or is there even really an authentic author for any given text? Combining these two ideas would seem to strongly suggest that all texts could be deconstructed to the nth degree with impunity, since all texts are open to countless interpretations, and all authors are nothing more than "endlessly labile [selves]" (176). However, I believe there is an entirely different way to merge these two concepts, and that in the end, this convergence of ideas will demonstrate that anyone setting out to deconstruct the composition Perceval will unwittingly reveal the very thing deconstructionists most strongly deny -- that a constant, or absolute, running through life can appear in a piece of literature.

In the "READER" section of this essay, Gallagher quotes Hans Robert Jauss who says that the historical authenticity of any literary work is based upon "the preceding experience of the literary work by its readers" (181). To clarify this he tells us that the composition Perceval "as a literary event, is not 'historical' in the same sense as...the Third Crusade, which was occurring at about the same time [Perceval was composed]." Then Gallagher -- using "the words of Wolfgang Iser, Jauss's Konstanz school colleague" -- states, "Perceval happens whenever and wherever it is read; the historical text is...thus multiple in time and place" (181). I do understand this; in fact, it is easy for me to see how someone living during the Third Crusade could read Perceval with a different perspective from a Literature Student in the year 2008. While the former would be in the midst of it all, so to speak, the latter would be far removed from the historical underpinnings of the text. However, I am also convinced that the fundamental message concerning "The Quest" would be recognizable by both the old and the new reader.

There is something timeless in mythology like Perceval; the concept of The Quest has been around ever since we first stood up on two legs, and it will be here as long as we are breathing. Every time we put our feet on the floor as we get out of bed, we are all on some kind of quest, so why muddy the point of the myth by saying now that we can read it on a computer screen rather than in a codex, it has somehow drastically changed? Why -- on the fundamental level of message -- would there be any difference in "the way a thirteenth-century manuscript reader would have interacted with a text of Perceval and the way a student in a French literature course interacts with one now" (182). Granted, both would most likely have dissimilar views on details due to their life experience. However, the mythology of The Quest, one of the structural aspects of Perceval, simply stands on its own. It exists in this composition as a reflection of a constant in life. In fact, the very act of attempting to deconstruct Perceval would be the undertaking of a quest.

I believe the timeless quality of this text is due to the fact that the mythology created the text, and not the other way around, and this idea falls directly in line with an earlier statement in the "AUTHOR" section of Gallagher's essay. When she addresses the creation of consciousness she states, "The notion that discourse creates consciousness (instead of independent minds creating discourse) does not require Foucauldian critics to ignore individual writers... but it undoubtedly makes them seem less active as the ultimate historical cause or source of a literary work" (173). If, in fact, the myth created the text of Perceval then what we have is a text produced not by an individual author, but by and through the discourse of many groups over long periods of time discussing the same-shared experience. And this would suggest (if I can borrow a template from an example of Past Fact/Future Fact in Aristotle's Topoi) -- As every person who has lived on this earth through its many ages has been on a quest, we can be quite assured that this will be the common lot for the rest of us.... To me, what this all means, in condensed form, is that those who would argue that The Quest is not a constant in life would be on a quest while trying to prove their point. Therefore, they would be contradicting themselves.

Mechanical and Autonomous Speech

2008-10-12T11:57:00.000-07:00

Susan C. Jarret, in "Rhetoric," describes not only the history of rhetoric, but also how differently rhetoric has been viewed throughout the ages. Rhetoric's definition goes all the way from "a good man speaking well" (76), to the idea that all speakers are "subjected to the determinations of ideology, the unconscious, institutions, and systems of discourse" (88). In other words, we are not at all "autonomous speakers," but rather bound by mechanical attitudes brought about by ingrained beliefs, unknown desires, established norms, and our own particular society's methods of communication. For years I've been intrigued by the seeming contradiction in these two perspectives -- how on the one hand, we can be mechanical automatons, and on the other we can be autonomous and original. However, I still can't figure out why people insist on the "yes or no" of it instead of exploring the "yes and no" of it.

There are those who consistently speak from mechanical perspectives, and whatever they have to say could be construed as "unworthy" of our attention, because, in simplest terms, when people are speaking mechanically, their thoughts are not their own. However, if a person speaks from a place of autonomy, which always requires rebellion on some level, there's a chance that what he or she has to say will be seen as "good," in the sense that it is conscious, novel, and has the ability to move others in a positive way. What I've come to notice in life is that just as there are some people who generally speak mechanically, there are also some people who, more often than not, speak from a position of autonomy.

I'd never argue against the idea that we are mechanical beings for the most part, and that some of us can become completely stuck in the morass of learned societal, or core culture attitudes. Like the bible thumper who demonizes the teachings of the Tao, many of us take what we've been fed as children and young adults as gospel. Even those who rebel -- who say, "I don't believe what this society is trying to cram into my brain" -- have lapses back into mechanical behavior. However, it is simply wrong to say we are all in that place, all of the time. There are moments of understanding waiting for anyone who chooses to look for them. If it weren't so, where'd postmodernists come up with their supposedly original idea that all speaking is "ventriloquism" (88)? And wouldn't they be perturbed if someone mentioned that the parable about the "rich man" is a metaphor that exactly describes a person who is loaded with self-importance over his learned attitudes, proving this "postmodern" idea is not so post modern after all. Hmmmm, by adding that last sentence, I think I just proved their point that there's nothing original. Oh well, that's what postmodernist deconstruction does to me, sends me spiraling down that crazy hole dug by the white rabbit where only confusion, confusion, and still more confusion waits. But, I know a way out. In this case, all I have to do is turn my head and point in the direction of an original idea that actually worked... like magic.

Just the other night, I got a good dose of the kind of magic that can happen when one rebels and becomes an "autonomous speaker." Mr. Villanueava's decision to chuck it all, revolt, and speak from his own experience in Boot Straps, -- an act he thought would get him out of academics and not necessarily with blessings attached -- proved to be a boon not only for him, but also for the academic community itself. Instead of being ostracized by that community, he was embraced and acclaimed. Of course, the key idea here is that autonomy can have positive results, but not always. If one looks through history at autonomous characters in general, it will become clear that many of them just plain flat suffered for their ideas, which is why speaking autonomously is always risky business.

A Tool or a Crutch

2008-10-05T09:54:00.000-07:00

The preface, introduction, and first two chapters of "They Say I Say" offer writers both a certain type of formatting for academic writing, and a defense for the use of that formatting. It's obvious the book will dig deeper into the "templates" described in the beginning, which are basically forms for presenting an argument and transitioning smoothly in our own writing.

While reading this section I was struck by the idea that writers can either choose to use templates to construct bland, mechanical, formulaic prose, or use them to write with more freedom than usual because the templates have allowed them some extra room to be creative. In the case of the former, the templates would end up being crutches to support the weak ideas of a person either uninterested or uninspired. In the case of the later, the templates would be used strictly as tools to help transmit ideas artistically. When looking at it this way, it becomes obvious that there are definite disadvantages to taking the idea of using templates to an extreme, and there are definite advantages to thinking of templates as reliable, consistent, familiar places we can use as a sort of framework for our ideas. I've also come to the conclusion that how templates would be used depends entirely upon the outlook, experience, and most of all the desire of the writer.

Although I agree that it's "silly" to expect neophytes to stumble on these templates all on their own, I do believe a writer who has experimented enough could end up using them in his or her work without even being able to identify them. In other words, I think that at a certain point in their growth, writers could use the structure of a particular template much the same way they could use metaphor, simile, metonymy, or any other figure of speech, without any understanding at all that what they are doing has been recognized and catalogued as a literary concept. However, the big problem with templates, as far as I can see, would be in handing them over to a novice without first explaining thoroughly and convincingly that they are a tool and not a crutch. That they can be used creatively is without question, but that just like metaphor or simile, they can also be used sloppily.

A perfect example of using the concept behind a template creatively, and almost invisibly, is shown when the authors point to the inspired way Zora Neal Hurston put her own brand on the template for "they say" in the sentence, "I remember the day I became colored" (xii). And I'd be willing to bet my last lone dollar she didn't even know she was doing something that now has an identifiable name. This identification process could only have come from dissecting the work of exceptional writers, like Hurston, who are the true creators of the templates, much the same way Sophocles was the true creator and Aristotle simply the dissector of the perfect Greek tragedy.

On page ten, the authors also talk about how the best improvisational jazz musicians must have some familiar place to come back to when things start breaking down -- or reaching critical mass. Dwelling on that idea, I realized that without the grand template of the Octave, and the smaller template of individual musical scales, jazz would never have been born... or any other form of Western music for that matter. I immediately thought of the structure of all uniquely American music, and once again wondered what our music would be like if not rooted in the 12 bar blues. Templates are everywhere. Aristotle's topoi are templates; templates are found in music, in art, in life itself. So why not try to creatively use the templates these authors discovered when we sit down to express ourselves?

Once again, I can see how a writer, especially one who is not interested in writing well, could use a template in an attempt to skate with a wave and a smile right on by his or her readers. However, if those readers happen to be people who enjoy reading something with at least a tinge of depth and originality, sloppy use of templates will be a glaring deterrent. On the other hand, if the writer has, more than anything else, a true desire to communicate ideas and felling about the subject at hand, then there's a good chance templates will serve as a decent framework or point of reference that allows him or her to be more creative -- kind of like how a good base player and drummer will hold up the bottom end to allow the rhythm and lead to soar a bit.