Frail

A lot of you have already heard that Daniel's youngest brother, ELliot was in a car accident a few weeks ago. There were a lot of ways he could have died, but fortunately, he made it out with seven broken bones and a punctured skull. I think it's ironic that Elliot, who home-schools, lives in Iowa, and is only twelve years old, is the one who just had a life-scraping experience when Wyatt is a medic in Iraq and is daily exposed to the dangers of war.

My younger brother is also getting fired at, but he's in basic training so it's a little more controlled. Ironically, still, though, it was my older brother who nearly died a couple of months ago when he slipped and fell down a waterfall, hitting his body against some jagged rocks. He works on a cruise ship and gets to do vacationy things all the time.

I think it makes an interesting point, though. If you had to choose who was more prone to death: a soldier in Iraq or a twelve-year-old homeschooler; a training private at Fort Benning or a light technician for Carnival cruises, who would you choose? I'd more than likely go with both of the former choices (I actually heard of two people who died at Benning a couple of years ago when one of my friends was there).

My point is that we are all frail. And we don't know when our life will end. Nearly everything we do is a risk. So I guess we should take more chances.

Life kicking me in the butt

I don't really have anything significant to write right now, but I felt like I should say something. I hate that feeling.

The Integrity of Words

Apparently I can no longer edit my posts. They say there are no posts found. Funny. They're still sitting there on my blog. Whatever. I have more important things to talk about. The integrity of words, namingly.

My college roommate posted her thoughts on this article,which I thought were interesting. It got me to thinking about the way our culture has watered things down to easy, thoughtless statements and sentiments. I've been getting frustrated with my inability to use words like I want to. When I read classic literature-- Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Tennison, Longfellow and so forth-- I discover how richly worded everything is. That is in part to the author's ability and talent. It is also in part to the wealth of vocabulary that exsisted in even the uneducated.

We were talking about family dinners the other night, and my friend Karen said that tey had a small table and never had to ask to have things passed because they could reach everything. Erin said, "that's called boarding room reach," and everyone noded their heads. I hadn't ever heard that phrase used before. And I got annoyed with myself. But it's not totally my fault that I don't hear these things. They arne't used anymore. Granted, if I bothered to look up more words and phrases, I would be more prolific, but there is still a leanness of words. And of their meaning.

I think a major part of the problem is our relativistic mindset. The it-means-what-I-want-it-to mindset. I was on a poetry site where we can comment on each others' poetry. I'd been noticing that one particular poet used the poetic word jaded in nearly every poem (ironically). So I mentioned that. I also quoted Wesley from the Princess Bride when he was talking to Vizzini: "You keep using that word. I'm not sure you know what it means." The poet responded saying, "I like the word. To me, it means darkness and tiredness." Well. Unfortunately Webster doesn't agree. It actually means worn-out, overused, or tired. (Kind of like his very use of the word in his multiple poems). He completely discredited himself (at least to me), by misusing the word. I no longer want to read his poetry. It's left uninterprateable if the words mean what he wants them to mean, even if it has nothing to do with their true definition. They don't mean whatever you want them to. That's all there is to it. (Some words can have connotations, I realize. I'm not arguing against the poetic use of words. but when they're used, they can include the connotation and still be true to their meaning).

Charlie Peacock is a really fantastic person. He recently wrote a book called "New Way to Be Human". In his introduction, he spoke of a college student who was tired and found that the things he ewas being taught were tired and seemed useless. He completed his complaining by saying, "Words just don't mean anything anymore." Charlie replied (regretfully) "In that case I have no idea what you just said." But then he expounded, and said that words are all we have. Words must mean something, or we have no hope of conveying truth. We have no other way to tell our stories. And if words begin to mean "whatever we want them to" then our stories lose their validity, for they are interpreted carelessly with with the listeners own experience and feelings attached. I, for one, don't want that to happen.

writing muse

I'm discovering that my writing is half way between discouragment and inspiration. I left the conference with some new ideas and good advice. But having talked with real published people, I also left feeling like everything I've written is inadaquet. The problem is I really love the things I've written. but now I feel like they need to be revamped (and they do in order for an editor to consider it), and I don't have the energy or knowledge to do it right. I can't make words work right now. And that frustrates me so much.

And I guess that's all I have to say right now.