About Exercise, Skimming,Blogging & Personality

My "Write Everyday" exercise is taking place here today because today I have something to "write about", that is, address as an exercise. How's that for thoughts about birds and a single stone?

At Fresca , she raised the question of skimming as she reads, finding that this new to her reading habit, and wondering aloud -all over the Internet no less- if this sort of reading behavior might be the result of all the stuff to read that (she) finds confronting her. Several of her friends chimmed in agreeing that they, too, are noticing that about themselves, and also concurring that it may be due to the abundance of reading material on the Internet. I'm here today to say, "me too."

Now in the first place why would I have to say it here, on my own space -such as it is "my own"- rather than in "comment" to Fresca's entry at her space? Well, when I read her post, it struck a chord with me -I find myself saying that a lot; I suspect it might be true- as having both thought about this before and having read it elsewhere. Because this is an essay of sorts, and "Essays are how we speak to one another in print ..." (Edward Hoagland 1999), where we my get a bit wordy and a bit short on on references. In this case I am without reference as to where I'd read about the change in people's reading habits, and what I have to say here is too long for a "comment" space. And inapproriate too. The other reason too, that I'm commenting on her blog here, is that to one of my comments -a short one- Fresca commented back that if I had the time to comment daily on her daily blog, then I had time to write my own. I took that as a friendly challenge, and using the time I do have and the need for this exercise, I'm commenting here.

What had occured to me, and was affirmed in whatever it was that I read, was that many of us who do read, are becoming overwhelmed by the quanity of print before us. Of course, we partially subject ourselves to this conditon by tuning into the internet, blogs in particular. But then I suspect that many, if not most, of us do that as a was both getting material, and focusing ourselves. But then once there in this self-selected place, or places, we're often confronted with the long out-pouring of someone's notions and interests thanks to their incredible typing ability. And there we are, finding what we sought, and overwhelmed. And still, no doubt, there are other places to "go" yet, other reading to be done. And so, we skim.

Yes, we skim. But my bet is that we become practiced skimmers, and in that ability pick up the words that stimulate the concepts that will draw or repel us to further reading and inquiry toward satisfaction, or conclusion. We skim, getting what we need.

Now there is one final element that I need to address in this entry today. Yet, once more about personality. In the course of getting physical exercise just yesterday playing racquetball, I was having a conversation with my "opponent" before we started. He, very near my age, seemed to be coming to an awareness of the "those things" like Facebook and all the time some people seem to spend on the Internet. He was dumb-founded that people would want to associate with one another in this manner, and may have gone on to who-knows-what other comments until I inserted that I "write" on the Internet. He smiled and shrugged. It gave me opportunity to tell him of how there are extraverted, gregarious, persons such as himself, and then there are those of us who are introverted and often interact best in writing and "alone". He smiled and shrugged. Again.

Because I am the introvert that I am, one of long-perception options, it takes me time often to mull over a situation or a notion before I respond to it. Such is often the case when I read other people's postings; I can't, or don't have time, then and there to respond thoughtfully. So there.

Why Write (?)

It runs through the various entries I've made here and elsewhere over time, that I've had the same question. On that question, the resolve for me is that I will, I must, write for my own satisfaction. Though I haven't put the time into it that would be required, I don't see much possibility of having any of my written work -yes, it is work, sometimes- published for a readership. A readership would be the only real point of publishing. Yet, I do anticipate the possibility of some readership. I 've said, without elaborating, that I also write for posterity. To elaborate, I think that there are more than a few of us who take some sort of pleasure in coming across "old writings", preferably of kin, but perhaps anyone, as well. Such writings give us a glimpse back in time into people's lives and lifestyles; of how things were that we could not experience. Think of what it's like to handle a book or piece of paper from "way back when". We wonder even about the properties of that paper. We wonder about the writing tool. We wonder about the place and space in which the writing was done. And, we wonder about the writer, the person. What were that person's circumstances; socially, financially, emotionally, intellectually? And I suspect that there will be some kin of mine to follow that, for whatever their purpose, whatever their judgement, will take some pleasure in perusing some of what I have written sitting in this era I now occupy. And now that I've thought it out to this extent, given the existence, as it were, of some future-kin, I take my beret off to you, and to you I owe a better job than I've done to date at my writing.

A whole other question arises -as I've raised elsewhere in the past- with the allusion to old paper or books, as to in what sort of format writings such I'm doing now will survive if they survive at all? Stone comes to mind first and foremost as a medium with log-term durability. No doubt it's demands and limitations make it a reject out-of-hand. Still, if the nuclear holocaust that some have predicted does indeed happen, we -our species- may yet find ourselves re-inventing the wheel, or, tablet.

Somewhat more practical is the amassing of one's work on storage units such as CDs or hard drives. Here the hope would be for legacy equipment would be maintained for the purpose of reading and translating units. That has already become a technological consideration in many quarters. I suppose that one could self-print on paper copies of all one writes. This is actually feasible and may become the preservation of choice. A hope here is that there will be discovered a paper product that does not require the killing of trees. I would suspect that is in the works as we write. Finally, for today, there is the possibility of simply accummulating writings on storage devices -such as servers- within the construct of the Internet much as we're doing now. A huge problem with that is cost. I fail to see Google's interest, longterm, in storing my digits, especially for free. And if I'm not around to make the payment will there be future-kin with sufficient interest and means to do so?

Well, I am at an age and health condition where this need not matter just yet. For today, I'm willing to use and store -with thanks and appreciation- on an Internet website. Suffice it to say -today- that the matter is on my mind unresolved, and may yet find resolution elsewhere.

Edifying Balloons

Wednesday, 9:45am

Reading Sontag on Roland Barthes, and collection about the work of Daniel Dennett it occurs to me to describe such writing as very dense. In Sontag the density is of adjectives adverbs; on Dennett the density is of nouns and verbs. One matter addresses writing, the other the philosophical theory of mind. The image that came to me as I paused to reflect on some point or another was that of a balloon. First I thought of a word balloon such as in a cartoon strip, and how those balloons fill with words. In this day and age if computer software I suppose that those balloons even “expand” to accommodate whatever amount of words are being used to convey an idea. As I sat staring out the window the balloon idea morphed into a hot-air balloon. This seemed even more apt when thinking about writers describing because there seems to be a point, a word or phrase, at which the writer is compelled to elaborate on that point, word or phrase. With a hot-air balloon there is a specific point at which some specific element –heat- enters the balloon, and then inside the elaboration of that heat is expansion. An initial cynicism is that, yes, the writer’s piece is full of hot air. Hmm. Yes, well, that may seem so, and to some extent, is so. But without expanding hot air the balloon would not fly; without elaboration an idea does not get off the ground, so to speak. And floating ideas is why people write.

The connection here with my avowed purpose of writing on personality goes like this: Browsing library and bookstore I come upon two books, each focused on a particular interest of mine. I’d never read Sontag though she’s the sort of person I’ve just known about by virtue of related conversations and readings. As it turns out, the 1982 reader I selected is a collection of her essays about the arts with a focus on writing in particular. The other book (2002) is a compilation of essays by various philosophers analyzing Dennett’s work which attempts to explain “the mind”.

Wilhelm Wundt (1832-1920) has been considered as one of the fathers of “scientific” psychology. His voluminous works led to Elements of Folk Psychology (1916). This was a time when Carl Jung was cutting his teeth becoming a psychologist. He liked to tout psychology as scientific, though he himself was more anthropologist and philosopher. It was Jung though who gave us the best perspective and account of personality. In the notion of personality that I am trying to build, the work of Richard Dawkins, Nicholas Humphrey, Antonio Damazio and Daniel Dennett all contribute support for my proposition. Dennett’s is one of the more confounding. However, Daniel Dennett edited by Brook & Ross has other writers recasting some of Dennett’s crucial ideas. And with the lift of these additional words those ideas float more clearly.

For me, the value of A Susan Sontag Reader is the support for the writing effort, in a style that suits me. Sontag’s mission is to edify and that she does. In both focus and practice she edifies on style. This particular collection is a bit presumptive of the reader, and I find myself exercising the dictionary quite a lot. Still, to edify is her mission. P.J. O’Rourke she is not. There is little in overt humor in her work. She is formalistic –as she writes of others- but it is clear that she has a confident command of her style, and uses this style to her purposes. And while humor is not her emotion, passion is, and its well expressed in the style that suits her. We should all do nearly so well.

So it is that in these two filled balloons I once again find more enlightenment and support for my own chosen tasks of interest.

Personality; toward integrity

As always, trying to hold things and self together; trying to make sense of life and self. Contemplative thinking, always such a force in my life. Always has been, as I reflect. Always there seems to be an urge to write, to express. You'd think that by a certain age of maturity these things would be well figured out and grounded to satisfaction, but, no. Why not? Some folks seem so satisfied. There are so many elements and aspects to life. What elements and aspects account for these urges to think and write; contemplate and scribble? What are the elements and aspects of life that account for interests, enthusiasm, eccentricity, joy and happiness, anger, dread and sorrow? What accounts for the urge to blog as opposed to "document"; to write as opposed to talk? Its Friday night and very dark and quite here. The music on the radio is good, real good (hey, they're -KAXE- playing Janice Joplin again); a beer is well-deserved now. I think its time to essay. To be honest the foregoing came in the course of journalling at http://pdlefebvre.livejournal.com/ .

Now, even as I set about trying to essay the matters raised here, I first must grapple just a bit with the issue of blogging. I know from what I hear and what I read at the likes of Technorati that there are millions of blogs and more coming by the minute. There are literally only two that I try to keep up with, and both are literary, each with their own emphasis. Beyond that, reading blogs in the way that I sense some folks do, in a way that I sense we're often encouraged to do, is way beyond me. Where would the time come from? I get hopeful -as I am right now- that my life will even out enough to allow me to sort and then stick with some worthy blogs. But see, they would have to be worthy. Worthy of what? What would constitute worthiness? I suspect that there are probably plenty out there that are enlightening.

So if I have that notion about blogging, why am I here doing this? I believe that I have three reasons for being here: I want to essay and I'm resolved that being published is probably more work than I want to do; I have some hope that I'll make a contribution to life; and I hope too that my posterity, especially the grandchildren -and theirs?- will be better able to account for that old eccentric. In these reasons are my satisfactions. And if I couldn't blog would I then be dissatisfied? I don't know, perhaps. I contend that that is a universal question -too often unasked- for most people regarding many things of life. Is satisfaction the measure? Yes.

And that takes me into the global perspective in answer to the questions laid out at the beginning. Easy enough to say, the answer is in nature and nurture. Nature has first say, and today though we contend, nature has last say. In between, nurture imposes a convoluted, complicated influence. Nature provides us an evolved -evolving- hardwire system by way of our muscular-skeletal-neurological system. Nurture provides us with the means to develop and care for the body. Nurture brings us culture. The face of our nature and nurture, that which we show the world, that with which we engage the world is our personality.

Our personality, structured of elements and aspects, is given to us by the interelationship of nature and nurture for us to complete as we ask and face those universal questions. As we encounter the demands of daily life it is the structure of our personality that securely guides us to the greatest satisfaction of the moment. Satisfied, we move on; dissatisfied, we grapple.

A New Access to Writing

Yes, Virginia, the typewriter is gone. Recycled, as it were. As if it weren't enough to have a computer with Wordpad, a computer with MS Office, even, now one can also write "online".  I know, I know; what I say here is not new to the millions of technorati now many years (10 is many?) engaged with the Internet. But for those of us that, for as many reasons as there are those of us, are either later to come or slower on the uptake, it is all quiet amazing. And I'm not yet even at the point of what prompted me to make this entry. This entry is about two matters really: writing, and where/how to.

Writing, as a subject, has pervaded much of my writing effort in recent years. I suspect that will continue so here, giving the perfunctory nod to the subject, I am focused on my own amazement at the current tools of writing. As it were, the where and how to. 

When I was a young man my writing began to take shape -unbeknownst to me- as a young married sailor writing letters to my parents and then to my wife. I recall still how I enjoyed, and took some pride in my penmanship. At that time I was probably less aware of word-crafting than my handwriting as the good nuns taught us -or, at least it was the lesson I took away- that handwriting would tell our character.  What would that say of my character today as these much older, well-worn hands have trouble managing a pen or pencil, much less so scribing in good handwriting. And there was always something "special", not just "proper", but "special" about letter writing. It was satisfying.

In college I managed to get -we bought, though I no longer recall from where- a typewriter.  I do remember that it was light-green plastic and cost twenty-five dollars which would have been a big expense for us then. By the time we purchased this typewriter I had already submitted several class papers in hand-written form on lined paper. I'm sure that the discussion around spending the money on a typewriter included comments about how hand-written papers had a long, distinguished history, and how buying a typewritter just fed some inexorable movement of commercialism.  But, of course, it also included the practical consideration of how much faster, and clearer, I could get my work done. And no doubt, it would produce better grades. (Some of us will remember the job of correcting errors on a typw-written page, not to mention, on carbon copies)  What the discussion did not include -because such things had not yet come to light of admittance in my brain by that time- was that a typewriter is a gizmo to be engaged and "worked", manipulated.

(People hang things on walls about them for various reasons. It may be grocery notes, pictures of loved ones or adventures had, or pieces of art. The art may be for pure pleasure of its beauty, or appreciation of skill and craft; or both. It may be inspirational.  As I was finishing the two paragraphs above I glanced up from the keyboard -yes, I must look- and noted two pieces I -intentionally- hung from the shelf above this desk: two New Yorker Blitt cover-art pieces. One portrays a fellow, obviously a writer, who has been hand-writing his story on the floor, and now finds himself boxed in the corner of his room. ((The last six words he'd written were, "However, it was only a matter of time"))  The other cover portrays a a group of monkeys in various poses of thought and effort working at their small typewriters not unlike the one that I had owned.  But then, this piece isn't about art and writing per se.)

In most of my employment career as a social worker I had many reports to write. Now and again the secretary staff would allow some of us access to their typewriters, but for the most part, notes and reports were done in hand-written form on lined paper. Then came the dictaphone, and what a great gizmo that was. But that was bettered by the portable, 5-pound, tape recorder. To the extent of their batteries, the tape recorder added the benefit of being able to record in the field while events were still fairly fresh in memory. If I were writing about that career here, I'd have another take on that actuality of that process. But as the tape recorders got smaller, and better, things were about to change by a quantum leap. The advent of the personal computer hit the government office.

It was about ten years before I retired that network-based computer terminals were placed on our desks. I'd say that there were two camps of reception to these new gizmos, and one camp had two components: one that disdained them as a new expectation to the workload, and one that phoo-phooed them as silly because they were not stand-alone "desktops". On the other hand, the camp I was in saw them as breakthrough (gizmo) tools that would not only facilitate our work, but would enhance our workday (after all, they were, gizmos). In, probably, the last six years of my employment we had networked "desktops". These indeed did provide much greater flexibility.

The desktops, in addition to, or perhaps as an aspect of the flexibility, did in fact enhance the workday for several of us. It was a tool with software fittings that allowed for much creativity on the job. As a "storekeeper" in the Navy I had learned the hunt-and-peck method of typing sufficient for promotion and the job. That skill level was also sufficient for my years and learning ability in college. Now, as a mature adult nearing the end of my career my typing method was just-sufficient, it was actually a challenge. For now there was little-to-no resistence in the keys, no carriage to shift (though in truth, the electric typwriters had nicely overcome that task). The new desktops provided such potential for speed that I found my hunt-and-peck method actually improved -and, yes, that's my level today despite all my resolutions to become a "typist".

Some of the creativity aspect that the desktop brought to the job was that we could work to develop digital forms, forms that were quicker and easier to complete, and forms that would distribute the entered information to other places that would then preclude duplicate entries. These tools increased the flexibility -enhanced- of report-writing. This aspect led to further creativity in that there were times when one could do "notations", case-notes, and even, some personal writing.

But the time for personal business was always way to short -as it should have been at work.  Still, the enhancement and flexibility incorporated into the task of writing reports, in my instance, invoked that long-dormant satisfaction in writing. Such writing provided the opportunity for not only word-crafting, but for expression. And it came to an end none too soon. What I had not known most of my career, not until some four or five years before my retirement -about ten years ago now- was much about personality structure, personality profile. I had not the conceptual framework to realize and articulate the notion of introversion. My career as a social worker -often to my denial- was very taxing, draining, on my personality type. When I reached retirement eligibility, I was a long time ready.

And when I retired almost five years ago, we bought a new computer; the one I work on today. We'd had a desktop for about five years. But in those days, even more so than now, personal computer technology grew by leaps and bounds. Your new gizmo could be outdated within as little as a year. This current computer, a VPR Matrix made for Best Buy, with 111GB of hard disk (in five years I've only used 26.3GB -though I've taken 7 CDs of pictures off) and a Pentium 4 operating XP at 1.99GHz is still quiet enough. And now, with good fortune, plenty of hard work, and my wife's brain power, we have a cabin-home at a lake where a son and his wife have donated an eMachine. I have recently learned the the dial-up connection there and have begun use of that e-gizmo too. Soon, thanks to the Internet and the things that amaze me -and prompted this piece- these two computers will be virtually connected, and here or there, I'll have my gizmos to put to use as satisfies me.

About 18 months ago I became aware of, and began using a web-based wordprocessor application that was in beta development. It was enticing as a writing tool and I "bought" into it. It was free. About six months ago Google bought that application and has named it "Documents & Spreadsheets". I had already begun some preliminary blogging at Blogger, a Google operation, and hold Google in a high regard similar to my regard for Microsoft. (I like what works well). I've become sold on the applicability of Docs&Spreadsheets especially in view of being in two different places for periods of time. D&S is one of the amazing things that allows me to write where I am. The building of the cabin detoured me from much engagement with these gizmos and applications. But now as that building comes near to an end, I have looked again at the computer and in tripping around, found the application I'm using for the first time: MS's Windows Live Writer. Its a relatively small application that provides a desktop wordprocessing interface with one's choice of blogging services, in this case, Blogger.com. (It just occurs to me that in my hands this brings together Microsoft and Google) It should be noted that the Live writer was initially designed to serve Windows Live Spaces, another blogging space.

I'm trying out Live Writer and becoming very pleased with it because it allows me to work offline as my MS Word would do, but then save and post directly to the blog site. And it provides a working space so similar to Word (actually, so is D&S) that the learning curve for use is very low. With two good computers, good program applications including a web-based wordprocessor (D&S), three good publication sites (Gather, Blogger and LiveJournal), Live Writer is a new access to writing, and I'm in business. Here goes the first post from LW.

Staying Connected

Seems like I'm always whinning about my condition in life. Maybe that's because I'm always whinning about my condition in life. In truth, my life really is pretty good considering all the other situations and conditions I might have been born into. All the more I want to say here, now, is that I'm dead-tired from work but I'm very aware of how long its been since I tried my hand at a post -and I have four spaces that I should be keeping up some activity. When I don't use the space I feel like I'm wasting it. Maybe when I do use it, I'm wasting it. In anycase I've been so busy building since last Spring that I just haven't had time or energy to "write". But I do want to hold my place on this space since I do belive "I'll be back".

Blog Struggle

06; 3/18 Saturday, 12:55pm. Minnesota blue-sky sunny day, 45+ degrees; snow is melting.

Struggle, struggle, struggle; that's what life is all about. Granted, for the fortunate of us, there are plenty of opportunities for rest, relaxation and general appreciation of qualities that life also has to offer. But those opportunities are ever and always bracketed by struggle. And it's clear to me that "struggle" is a concept of relativity; my struggles in no way compare to the hardships millions of people have (had) to endure. My continuing, and nagging, struggle has to do with writing; writing what and where,or even at all. About as soon as I think I have it overcome and am ready to go, I encounter something like David Weinberger's commentary for NPR's All Things Considered yesterday, "Reading Blogs is a Time-Consuming Endeavor". Humorous and ironic, he points up many truths about the activity of blogging. Indeed, its become such a common activity, I shunned the use of the word "practice" for I believe that that word describes something more serious. Rather blogging has become an activity in the same sort of manner as jogging; almost anyone can do (and it seems, does), and style is 'whatever suites you'. Along this line, and Weinberger's larger point is that there are some 30 million blogs out there now, and many of them done with personal expectation. And why would mine be any different? (I think I have an answer for that, but I'm going to hold it til I can flesh-it-out in an essay) The irony in the piece is that Dvid Weinberger is a fellow at Harvard's Berkman Institute for Internet & Society, and himself a substantial blogger. Well, in any case this reflection today is (again) about my own struggle, and (again) my resolve to persist, if for no other reasons than that "I can" and "let's see what happens. And, yes, I will continue to look in on some blogs, perhaps for the very same reasons as I'll persist with my own.