Thinkin' Thoughts; Wherein I try Not to Hurt My Brainz

Feelin' smaht?

I strongly recommend checking out this article:
The Next Big Thing In English: Knowing They Know That You Know

I loved reading about this foray into neuroscience via English, but I feel like it isn't as novel a concept as the author thinks (Ha! I'm trying to mind read!). Certainly this "cross pollination" of fields offers some new developments to inject some energy into English literature studies. Whether that energy is sorely needed as the article implies... well, you'd be hard-pressed to find a bigger English nut than this lady so just be glad this blog isn't about my indignation over that claim.

Ultimately, this hybridized field could definitely take off. But the way its framed in the Times' article seems a clever repackaging of the process of literary analysis. I can't really blame the author: searching for empirical evidence about what makes literature tick is much sexier than a subjective debate about tone and mood and allegory. It was a good introduction though and I want to read up more.

The best English professors I studied under were always careful to take a step back from literary criticism and look at the underlying factors that contribute to our pathos, or lack thereof, for the characters in our texts. Usually, these factors were framed as historical context - why was this writer compelled to tell this story, and why should readers at that point in time care? Why, for that matter, should we care 25 years later? How about four centuries later? An MRI can't tell us that.

The inherent subjectivity of that search for pathos is what makes fiction worth reading - every reader's experience is as unique and different as the human experience. And the human experience is what drives us to create that literature.

I think the quote from a Brandeis English professor sums it up nicely.

“It’s not that evolution gives us insight into fiction,” [Professor William] Flesch said, “but that fiction gives us insight into evolution.”

And I don't think he means "Inherit the Wind."


Who... is today's blogger? Bleary-eyed, slightly hungover former English major who fancies herself a Sunday morning intellectual
What... is she eating? Tea and toast over the laptop, to get that nice crunchy typing sensation
Wear... ing pajamas and glasses that are smudged with butter from the toast

Inertia

A blog is a broadcast, not a publication. If it stops moving, it
dies.

- Andrew Sullivan

Hey guys, look at my zombie blog!

I'm gonna start a little writing exercise. I'm gonna blog three or more times a week. For realz, k? Hold me to it. My first task? Free association. All stream of consciousness like Joyce but super 2010!

Ok - resurrecting my blog... resurrection - Easter! See Mom, I did pick up something in Sunday school after all. I took a weekend trip to WNY for Easter which had the usual hallmarks of all things Buffalonian and Polish: pierogies, kielbasa, sugar-high children, and Dyngus Day. Seriously, google Dyngus Day now. Look, I did it for you. Once you get over the regret of not having celebrated it for the past however many years of your life immediately remedy that situation by stocking up on your pussywillows and water guns for next year.

I love having this kind of kooky heritage stuff. My wonderful Significant Other (the Sig O) and his family celebrate their Scottish heritage, with kickass music and sheep entrail delicacies, and that's certainly lots of fun. But Scottish (often hybridized with Celtic) heritage has infiltrated a lot of pop culture (see Dropkick Murphys, Ewan McGregor).

The Polish stuff is generally pocketed in Northeastern areas of the States, like Chicago and New York, and so is still kind of obscure to lots of people. It's kind of like a secret handshake to know the words to "Who Stole the Kishka?" or to lay claim to the best pierogi recipe. There are 7 of us Western New Yorkers here at my not-so-new job and 4 of us have Polish families. Pretty cool, huh?

Hooray for rambling! Zombie blog arises! Let's see how long I can keep it going until, uh... I'm searching for a zombie-killing analogy but a lifetime of shunning horror films has left me with a serious dearth of references. All I can think of is Woody Harrelson and Twinkies. So ... have a good weekend!

All Apologies

Apologies to all three of my readers for being MIA these past two months.


I would love to blog every day and write about the wildly fascinating stuff I've been up to (hm, that would probably mean doing wildly fascinating stuff...) but I just can't find my writing groove.


I've been thinking about one aspect of blogging a lot lately: all of my favorite blogs are pretty personal. The writers talk with their audiences and in doing so they describe intimate details about their lives. One part of me REALLY loves how blogs function to share such intensely personal experiences in ways that engage and delight readers. There's some brilliant writing out there and a lot of fascinating dialog thanks to bold bloggers who speak to their own human experiences.


But sometimes I just can't stand the idea of publishing personal stuff. Do I invite the rest of the world into my life? Or do I share a limited version of myself, highly edited to maximize my own privacy? The former option seems terrifying, the latter dishonest.


I'm looking for the happy medium. Obviously an online web log cannot be a completely accurate account of any writer's life, no matter how heavily committed the writer is, and nor does it have to be (Second Life, anyone?). And it's not like I would share my bank account number and PIN.


But just as I'm about to post something personal, for example some thoughts on my deepest darkest childhood fear (Teddy Ruxpin Evil Bear of DOOM, fyi) I think, do I really want this to live in Interwebz Eternity tied to my name? I get the whole nom de plume thing. I really do.


I know I need to get over that in order to churn out some posts that are worth sharing. And frankly, I have no desire to run for public office anytime soon so who cares what comes up when I google myself.


Which I haven't done in a while.


Hm... fodder for my next post (in three months)?

"My new movie is called Baby Bridesmaids. Women will love it."

I should go to a club or something but it goes against my philosophy "why stand in line for booze and dancing when I have booze and dancing in my very own living room?" I hate lines. And I never have the right clothes to go to cool places and if I try to dress like I do I look like a lady of the evening.

Sarah Haskins, I heart you.

get your tartan on

Short week - things are really picking up at work and I'm glad for it!

This weekend we're off to an evening of Scottish festivities. Burns Night 2010! Bring on the haggis!

Also, one of these days I'll post about the ballroom classes we've been taking lately... (Best Christmas Gift EVARRR)

For now, here's what made me chuckle today:



see more funny facebook stuff!

it's a world of laughter

When I graduated and joined the "real world" (remember all that adulthood nonsense?) my sister gave me an awesome gift: An Overheard in the Office book. Fortunately my job is not nor has it ever been a nightmare where I'm surrounded by incompetence, but on days when I'm wishing I could just win the lottery and call it a day it's a nice lift.

Last night I came across this passage and have been giggling about it all morning. Yeah, I know. I'm sick. Oddly enough, I always figured my dream job would be working for Disney.

3PM Local Sports Editor Arrested by Karma Police; Sentenced to Ride 'It's a Small World' in Perpetuity
City editor: Do you think they give you your money back if your kid dies at Disney World?
Editor-in-Chief: No, but Mickey Mouse volunteers to be a pallbearer at the funeral.
Sports editor, in a Mickey Mouse falsetto: Hey guys, what's in the box?

7 North Jefferson Street
Huntington, Indiana

Overheard by: tricky nikki
via Overheard in the Office, Jul 11, 2006

Where is my flying car?

The end of the first full year out of school and the "rigors" of academia. The end of the decade in which I completed middle school, graduated from a new high school, collected a bachelor's degree, and lived in a mere seven locations (West Seneca, Medford 1, 2, & 3, Prague, Somerville, Brighton). It was the decade in which I voted for the first time, got myself a bank account, collected my first paycheck from a full-time job, learned to drive a car, file my own taxes, cook for myself, and pay bills on time - though not in that order.

If I had to pick a meme for all of this stuff, it would be Adulthood. Gross. While the last decade has yet to garner a popular moniker, I'm going to need to refer to the period of time society considers my formative years, and I'm going with The Noughties.

The Noughties were pretty good to me - I'm thankful I had a supportive family to secure me a lot of those milestones. And like a lot of Gen Y in my shoes (done with undergrad, feeling out the real world) I feel the siren song of grad school - especially with a lot of baby boomer mentors in academia who are proponents of their fields. But then I go and read something like this. Argh. One part of me notes that the author is an associate professor of English at a Midwestern school I've never heard of and scoffs that he's out of touch. The other part of me shivers a little and slides the GRE practice test under a pile of junk mail.

Hmph. Anyhow, at least I get to enjoy a few adult perks, like traveling. We took a roadtrip to Montreal this weekend and had a blast. Tim Horton's was involved. I forgot my camera, but will hopefully steal some pictures elsewhere. We toasted to the New Year on a Blue Moon - though no one told me about this, I only learned after the fact. But now I know that a blue moon is the 13th full moon in a year - not the second full moon in a month. And that's the real key to adulthood, right? To keep on learning...