the pretentious nonconformist

"The unexamined life is not worth living" - Socrates
The fallacy of an individualistic writer Some writers straight up have the gift. The right hemispheres of their brains ooze linguistic sex onto their outdated or pirated copies of Microsoft Word and captivate audiences on a scale that transcends the blogosphere that I now shamelessly pander to. The rest of us…simply don’t. Even before Vonnegut, spell-check, and Linear A, writers (and epic poets) sought the quality of distinction. It is the human condition to endeavor for one’s own literary mark on the written history. As one of these self-absorbed scribes, particularly one with a journalistic background, I have aspired to draw attention to topics of the day, but more so to myself for those oh-so-valuable webpage hits. There have been many, but in the end, what do those mean and does that qualify my work as decent writing? I had always felt that I could stand alone as a rogue writer, unfazed by and unconcerned with the great writers who came before. I always skimmed through historically significant books such as the Grapes of Wrath or the Odyssey in high school. This apathy toward culturally iconic pieces of written word persevered until recently. As my SAT classes during that time instilled a broad lexicon of pedantic vocabulary (see what I mean), my writing turned into a Frankenstein-esque monstrosity that tragically pitted natural linguistic flow against obscure, ostentatious bullshit. There was no style, and certainly no substance. My writing’s antithesis would be the basic, yet compelling prose of one Ernest Hemingway. He said (in essence) that if you couldn’t get a point across with the metaphorical tip of an iceberg in writing, you were already fucked. I have needed at least two obscure and needlessly academic words to get a point across. I clearly have some work to do on that. As I have started to indulge in the works of some revered authors, I find that it is important to absorb, but not necessarily emulate their style. Many have set important precedents for the modern writer. Even Shakespeare, as much as I hate his works, put soliloquys on the literary map and paved the way for the stream-of-consciousness writing and speech that pervades the blogging mentality. Perhaps if I’m thinking so much about my writing and waxing romantic on my blog, maybe I should focus on actually writing about things that matter rather than self-analyzing. That’s usually more productive. So until next week…two…or three, I bid you adieu.

The fallacy of an individualistic writer

Some writers straight up have the gift. The right hemispheres of their brains ooze linguistic sex onto their outdated or pirated copies of Microsoft Word and captivate audiences on a scale that transcends the blogosphere that I now shamelessly pander to. The rest of us…simply don’t. Even before Vonnegut, spell-check, and Linear A, writers (and epic poets) sought the quality of distinction. It is the human condition to endeavor for one’s own literary mark on the written history.

As one of these self-absorbed scribes, particularly one with a journalistic background, I have aspired to draw attention to topics of the day, but more so to myself for those oh-so-valuable webpage hits. There have been many, but in the end, what do those mean and does that qualify my work as decent writing? I had always felt that I could stand alone as a rogue writer, unfazed by and unconcerned with the great writers who came before.

I always skimmed through historically significant books such as the Grapes of Wrath or the Odyssey in high school. This apathy toward culturally iconic pieces of written word persevered until recently. As my SAT classes during that time instilled a broad lexicon of pedantic vocabulary (see what I mean), my writing turned into a Frankenstein-esque monstrosity that tragically pitted natural linguistic flow against obscure, ostentatious bullshit. There was no style, and certainly no substance.

My writing’s antithesis would be the basic, yet compelling prose of one Ernest Hemingway. He said (in essence) that if you couldn’t get a point across with the metaphorical tip of an iceberg in writing, you were already fucked. I have needed at least two obscure and needlessly academic words to get a point across. I clearly have some work to do on that. As I have started to indulge in the works of some revered authors, I find that it is important to absorb, but not necessarily emulate their style. Many have set important precedents for the modern writer. Even Shakespeare, as much as I hate his works, put soliloquys on the literary map and paved the way for the stream-of-consciousness writing and speech that pervades the blogging mentality.

Perhaps if I’m thinking so much about my writing and waxing romantic on my blog, maybe I should focus on actually writing about things that matter rather than self-analyzing. That’s usually more productive. So until next week…two…or three, I bid you adieu.

Is mobile technology killing human resourcefulness? I bring up this question because I recently inherited an iPad from my mom (she got scared away by the keyboard…) and found that it is a great journalism tool. Handwriting recognition, accurate voice-to-text dictation, and a synchronization app that can match when something is recorded to the notes that are being taken down at that same moment? [deep breath] ME GUSTA. In the same vein, I also could be perfectly content with using an old-school recorder with a notepad and jot down the elapsed recording time when an important thing is said…for a hell of a lot cheaper. However, the notes aren’t electronic for easy digital mobility and it takes waaay longer to transcribe interviews with those crazy academic-types. I have versatility of both methods on my side, but when iPads and similarly intuitive tech get full recognition as legitimate media tools, I imagine that journalism students in the future will be too lazy to bother with the older method. Keep in mind, most of them are destined for economic mediocrity and an iPad may be another self-destructive impulse buy! Anyway, is this an example of how technology is causing the atrophy of resourcefulness? Maaaybe. I can think of a number of reasons about how things can go wrong with today’s technology…hard drive crashes, rain screwing up the functionality of the screen, a broken stylus, inadvertently erased data…you’ll never get that hour-long interview with a politician back if you seriously mess up. I haven’t bothered testing the thing out yet, but when I do, I’m bringing the iPad PLUS a notepad and my handy little Sony digital recorder. Wait…digital? Ah fuck it.

Is mobile technology killing human resourcefulness?

I bring up this question because I recently inherited an iPad from my mom (she got scared away by the keyboard…) and found that it is a great journalism tool. Handwriting recognition, accurate voice-to-text dictation, and a synchronization app that can match when something is recorded to the notes that are being taken down at that same moment? [deep breath] ME GUSTA.

In the same vein, I also could be perfectly content with using an old-school recorder with a notepad and jot down the elapsed recording time when an important thing is said…for a hell of a lot cheaper. However, the notes aren’t electronic for easy digital mobility and it takes waaay longer to transcribe interviews with those crazy academic-types.

I have versatility of both methods on my side, but when iPads and similarly intuitive tech get full recognition as legitimate media tools, I imagine that journalism students in the future will be too lazy to bother with the older method. Keep in mind, most of them are destined for economic mediocrity and an iPad may be another self-destructive impulse buy! Anyway, is this an example of how technology is causing the atrophy of resourcefulness? Maaaybe.

I can think of a number of reasons about how things can go wrong with today’s technology…hard drive crashes, rain screwing up the functionality of the screen, a broken stylus, inadvertently erased data…you’ll never get that hour-long interview with a politician back if you seriously mess up.

I haven’t bothered testing the thing out yet, but when I do, I’m bringing the iPad PLUS a notepad and my handy little Sony digital recorder. Wait…digital? Ah fuck it.

Bruce Lee is my new personal trainer.  No, seriously. How did I suddenly push myself to run 2.48 miles (that’s my area code, and no it wasn’t on purpose) on the treadmill in exactly 30 minutes? I know it isn’t much, but mind you, I haven’t done serious cardio since high school and burn through American Spirit cigarettes like a wannabe lone-wolf movie character. Perhaps it was because I read a quote by Bruce Lee today. I know many of them, but I hadn’t read this one before: “There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level.” This didn’t quite resonate with me. After all, Bruce has many profound quotes that are more memorable, and this felt even less compelling than the mundane “pain is weakness leaving the body” crap.  However, when I read the contextual situation where he said these words, I found myself suddenly able to relate. The story is that Bruce was training a middle-aged gentleman. Both were running with a goal of three miles. When they had hit the two-mile mark, Bruce suggested running five miles.The man said that he might get a heart attack and die. Bruce nonchalantly said, “then die”. The man got so pissed off, he ran the damned five miles. My running session today was all about breaking through those plateaus. I aimed to run for 20 minutes, but then at 15 minutes I decided I could go 30. I had a cramp in my side and those nausea coughs, but I wasn’t deterred anymore after reflecting on Bruce’s advice. Twenty minutes was a limit my mind wasn’t happy with even though my body was already prepared to give up as I always had. I think I have a new hobby now. Till next time, Mr. Lee. I can’t pay you though, I’m broke as hell.

Bruce Lee is my new personal trainer.  No, seriously.

How did I suddenly push myself to run 2.48 miles (that’s my area code, and no it wasn’t on purpose) on the treadmill in exactly 30 minutes? I know it isn’t much, but mind you, I haven’t done serious cardio since high school and burn through American Spirit cigarettes like a wannabe lone-wolf movie character.

Perhaps it was because I read a quote by Bruce Lee today. I know many of them, but I hadn’t read this one before:

“There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level.”

This didn’t quite resonate with me. After all, Bruce has many profound quotes that are more memorable, and this felt even less compelling than the mundane “pain is weakness leaving the body” crap.  However, when I read the contextual situation where he said these words, I found myself suddenly able to relate.

The story is that Bruce was training a middle-aged gentleman. Both were running with a goal of three miles. When they had hit the two-mile mark, Bruce suggested running five miles.The man said that he might get a heart attack and die. Bruce nonchalantly said, “then die”.

The man got so pissed off, he ran the damned five miles.

My running session today was all about breaking through those plateaus. I aimed to run for 20 minutes, but then at 15 minutes I decided I could go 30. I had a cramp in my side and those nausea coughs, but I wasn’t deterred anymore after reflecting on Bruce’s advice. Twenty minutes was a limit my mind wasn’t happy with even though my body was already prepared to give up as I always had. I think I have a new hobby now. Till next time, Mr. Lee. I can’t pay you though, I’m broke as hell.