The Basis of Language as Difference

One of my professors (in discussing critical theory) mentioned again that the basis of language is difference.  I know, I know, this concept has been around since the first survey literature course taken in freshman year.  The thing is, today it seemed like all constructed systems (psychoanalysis, science, etc) are based upon difference and, still further, the interpretation of difference.  This has led me to a whole framework in which to interpret reality and, I believe, a really good paper to submit to a philosophical publication.  It's all very exciting.  I've been bereft of inspiration in terms of writing (hence the two week hiatus from this blog), and now I feel it springing forth in droves.  Isn't it amazing how some new idea or, in this case, an old idea seen in a new way can make all the difference?  (Pun intended).

The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;         5 Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,         10 And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.         15 I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.         20

 - Robert Frost (1874–1963).  Mountain Interval.  1920. [http://www.bartleby.com/119/1.html]

Moods and the Weather

It's pouring out I am in the midst of writing a paper (due at 2:45 today) about the effect that contemporary critical literary theories have had upon reading.  Although I was originally stoked to write about this, now that I've had some seminal conversations with my husband and took a beating on a stock, I really just want to hide my head under the covers somewhere and never come out.  This is not like me at all.  I feel so defeated and would just like to get away and nurse my wounds like a wild thing would.  I think I have run headlong into the brick wall of reality and smashed up against it.   I hope that something changes for the better, but I feel so utterly at sea and I'd  just like to be able to stop and let the tears flow before trying to gear up and move on.

Sole Survivors of a Hot Summer!

 These are the last holdouts to the crisp weather - I thought they deserved to be remembered.

The last, tiny gerbera

Petunias and Mums



The last Beebalm



Impatiens



Echinacea (close up)

The final clematis







Morning Glories that are still greeting the morning

The lavender is huge! (this pic is a long shot where the others are close-ups)



And last, but not least, my Gardening Buddy from across the street



I like the blog Fairegarden, which has a photo of morning glories posted.  That blog inspired me to add a picture of ours to my blog.  Considering the weather we've been having, they are really strong plants!

Foucault's Quilt

I changed my background from the lemons of summer to a quilt.  For one thing, its warm and seasonal and for another it means something to me.  Foucault (the French philosopher) had a theory that our individual worlds are made up of bits and pieces that we each may choose to incorporate into it.  For instance, although you may grow up in a capitalist country, you could be a staunch proponent of socialist policy. You may have become a believer in Islam despite growing up in a Judeo-Christian culture.  It all depends upon the bits and pieces, the squares of the quilt that you were exposed to and decided to interweave into your life.  It may be as simple as what television show you decide to watch, the way the words affect your outlook on life.  Of course, for Foucault, it was about enculturation and a process that allows us to view the world and reality.  The main focus is about knowing what you are choosing and not falling into the trap of confusing your view or reference upon nature or the interpretation of facts as the only one.  In other words, be aware of the patches you have sewn to make your quilt and don't confuse them for the only one. Indeed, being cognizant of the fact that humanity operates on a give and take basis is a major idea.  (Note: his ideas deal with philosophy and viewpoints, please don't confuse my silly example about t.v. programs with his sophisticated interpretation of linguistics and philosophy.)

Ok, so I am trying to consciously choose what I need to put in my quilt because right now it's falling apart at the seams.  Seams are a strange word, when you think about it.  When done correctly, they overlap and remain strong, bound together.  When done perfectly, when everything has gone right, it is 'seamless', as if there are no seams there.  The reverse? Being undone.  A seam is broken loose. 

I started this semester taking 6 classes.  I know this is exactly what the University says not to do, but my husband and I had our reasons.  Now, however, after taking 8 classes last semester in a 6 week period, I find I cannot schedule any more than 3 classes without a problem.  If I had only school, well, I think it would be fine.  However, there is daytrading, the conversion of the corp. to an llc, all the taxes and contracts, a beautiful highschooler that I don't give enough attention to, loving in-laws, 3 dogs, a cat and a bird to think about as well.  Although my husband is probably the most supportive, loving man in the world and I feel terribly lucky to have married him, he's not around during the week (and even if he were it probably wouldn't make a difference). The think is I have responsibility.  I love them, chose to have them and wouldn't change them.   These things make up my quilt and although the bright exotic squares of classes and lectures add pizzazz, the neutral blending of colors that constitute the backbone of the design are also really important.  After last semester, I have a lot of bright crazy patches but the rest of the quilt, the support to it, was largely ignored.   Let's face it, as any quilter knows, you will wind up in a mess if you continue sewing pieces together like that and that is exactly where I am.

So here's to double-stitching the seams, choosing to make family important and taking care of business and most importantly, seeing clearly what is most dear to me.  I could say to Foucault that I believe in a culturally specific way of raising my daughter, that education is important but not the only thing, that love and the effects of family strongly influence my perspective on the world and most importantly that I believe God is in charge of it all.  These are the ideas and beliefs that affect my view of the world, the basis of my reality and the quilt that is my life.

Autumn Musings

Autumn, Fall, whatever you want to call it, it is here!  Pumpkins are on the porch, mums in the yard and the leaves are turning the most beautiful colors. 

I always believed this time of year was sad, second only to winter, because it was the transition to an end.  Now, I see it as a time of bustling activity.  The time of year when you can get things done outside before settling in for a long winter's nap. 

My thoughts are turning to all the events coming up and I have been wondering if this last century or two in human history, when people have begun to look upon the frigid and often extremely difficult season of winter in terms of excitement, should actually be noted as a turning point in our civilization. 

In the middle ages and Renaissance, and really up to the modern age, winter was a time when few survived.  So, all in all, I feel that the literary custom of using fall and winter to denote middle and old age respectively should be determined to be outdated.  Perhaps as much as the characteristics of middle-aged and elderly people are now.  For certain there are octogenarians with more hutzpah than the average 20-something.  Middle-age has become hard to classify as people are living energetic, self-actualized lives in their 40's and 50's and decades beyond that. 

Perhaps it is just that I am in the autumn of my life, and I'm enjoying the season.  So, when I looked for poetic inspiration about autumn, I thought the following, John Keats' "Ode to Autumn" (of which my favorite line is "thou hast thy music too") would be appropriate:

Ode to Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing, and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Work Cited:
Keats, John. Ode to Autumn. The Literature Network. 3 October 2010. Web. [http://www.online-literature.com/donne/480/]