Just So You Know

(D)avid, adjective
1 an avid reader of science fiction
keen, eager, enthusiastic, ardent, passionate, zealous, hard-core; devoted, dedicated, wholehearted, earnest. See note at eager . antonym apathetic.

This morning, while driving to work, I thought of you as I often do on my drives, even on jaunts to the grocery store, anytime I’m without you. I drank my orange juice and pictured us last night as we were lying in bed, picking on each other and play fighting. I thought of us hysterically laughing in whispers so as not to wake up Callie, then settling down and turning our backs to one another to succumb to sleep and another week and our most-preferred sleeping positions. I started thinking about how quickly I transitioned from sleeping alone while we’ve been apart these last six months back to feeling the bottom of your feet pressing into the backs of my calves in the middle of the night. When I wake up suddenly, or just before you do, and I find your hand on my pillow, or I turn to face the wall and see the very tip of your head—a cluster of your hair, a thin strip of your forehead— sticking out from the top of the covers, I am not alarmed. I’ve fallen back in to being used to you.

I’m used to you here: your soggy towels leaving small pools of moisture on the carpet, on the comforter. Your glasses left behind on top of a pile of books on the coffee table. Your white t-shirts stuffed in baskets, or drawers—sometimes hidden in corners with holes in the sleeves. Your optimism, making me feel so rich with love when we are so poor. Your assurance never failing to keep me believing.

I like you here in our robin’s-egg blue house with our dogs. Where pasta is what’s for dinner every night, and we buy wine when we can’t afford it, and you always ask me to stay up and watch movies with you, but when I decline—say I’m too tired— you follow me upstairs to bed, anyway. You make every day fun. Every day an adventure. Every day one that ends with me smiling and laughing in your arms.

(A Kind of) Death In Birth

orphan noun

1 a child whose parents are dead.
• a person or thing bereft of protection, position, etc. : radioactive wastes are the main orphan of the nuclear era. 2 Printing the first line of a paragraph set as the last line of a page or column, considered undesirable.

Willy's mother died from complications during childbirth. Bringing him--but not just him, also his three identical siblings, Theo; Idda and Stella-- into the world. They are orphans kept alive by the staff at the Berega Orphanage, in Berega, Tanzania, where they are provided with the necessities and nurturing needed in their crucial first years. Commonly, they are reintegrated into their extended families between the ages of 2 and 3.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I complained to David that I just wanted to work in a field that I actually liked. One that I felt challenged me and stimulated me. One that ignited passion within me. He just smiled and comforted me as he usually does and sent me on my way, and when I got to work I found this article (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/25/world/africa/25orphan.html) in the New York Times. I saw and read about Willy and Theo and their sisters and my heart clenched, or eased up as I read about their struggle and the success they have found with the help of the Berega Orphanage. They are not just given food and health care, they are shown and given love. They are challenged to develop relationships and maintain them. No one makes a huge profit, or is able to build their resume from their work there, or can claim any other fame besides a brief Times article, and no one takes from it the workers' names, anyway. We only remember the names and faces of Willy, Theo, Stella and Idda.

It occured to me, maybe just now, that I'll never find what I'm looking for where I am. I know I'll never find it on my own anyway, without God's guidance, but I'll never find what my heart longs for in an office such as this one, or behind a desk in a plush computer chair. I will always feel drained or bored or uninterested--despite brief periods when business or distraction give me the illusion of interest. My heart beats for the Berega's kind of service. Here I am given too much time and space to fill with my self, and my own ego, my own "stuff." I don't want any of it, rather, I find myself longing to watch children grow. These children. To play a part in all of it. To cradle a newborn baby in my arms who was welcomed into the world on the coattails of his mother's farewell. Whose hope brought on by new life was a mere spark in a shadow cast by his mother's death. To cradle that tiny bundle of life in my arms and demand that this one has value, matchless worth. That this one deserves a chance, deserves all the opportunity the world can afford.

After all, what relevance does a decent-paying job, or a mid-level position, or a mid-sized townhouse, or even the mountain of student-loan debt it took to lift me up to this level even matter? In the face of a life that has one small window, one opening to either bloom or be lost, how can I worry about the grip that Sallie Mae now (though it will always be something) has on me? I'm asking because I'd really like to know. I know all hearts don't beat the same rhythm, for the same reason but why do I feel so stupid to ask? I'm sick of ignorning these feelings, of fully feeling them, only to moments later cast them off as ridiculous, childish. BECAUSE, I say to myself, you have to pay your bills. And who will feed the dog? Gas is not going to pay for itself to be pumped into that tank. Silly Lia. But I don't want to care about these things anymore. I don't want to care if my credit is destroyed, because I don't want to have credit. I want to forget what credit is and how it could have once "ruined my life." I don't want to know, and I won't need to know because I want to be so far from the concept of credit and bills, in the town of Berega, in Tanzania, living blissfully unaware, in love and with reckless abandon of my old self, and my old selfish ways, and everything before, after and all the things in between.

More Mess, Please.

revamp verb they plan to revamp the kitchen
renovate, redecorate, refurbish, recondition, rehabilitate, overhaul, make over; upgrade, refit, re-equip; remodel, refashion, redesign, restyle; informal do up, give something a facelift, rehab.

Ah, facelift. I like it. I'm dusting this old thing off. Trying to put prettier things on top in hopes to make the awful class-enforced blog posts that came before this one quiet down, or just go away.

I just tried to list 6 things about myself and I'm not sure why. Hello, Lindsey. You are the only person reading this and you already know all 6. Want to guess anyway, though? Didn't think so.

I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here. What I do know is that I am trying to force myself to write again. To write daily, which, in truth, is something I have never done--except maybe for a brief stint freshman year, and it was poetry, awful poetry. (Awful.) I love to write. I love to make up elaborate stories and characters with overly indulgent details, I love to research and observe and look up statistics for essays on tiny moments we often catch merely glimpses of, I love to plop short globs of language, clumsily and abrupt, atop slender swimming lines of poetry. I am in love with it, but it taxes me. I am overwhelmed by what I could write, or what I couldn't, or what would be too painful to pen down. I am anxious, and these days, too fidgety to sit still long enough to let some magic happen.

Last night I sat on our plump leather couch reading Jhumpa, and felt that ache I feel. When the way a line, or a charater's expression, peels the skin right off of me and climbs inside. I ache for the passion a couple feels when they share a first kiss while making dinner, then collapse into each other, and crawl into the bedroom to make love, forgetting the food, simmering (soon burning) in pots and pans strewn across the top of the stove, and the uncorked wine. Let loose. So loose that the fact that the frying pan has to be thrown out afterwards doesn't even matter. It is casually mentioned, a short sentence that follows them slipping back into their clothes, laughing as they order bad Chinese food and split some left-over beer from the back of the fridge. Effortlessly, it is life. It is messy: she has couscous in her hair. It is messy: he smells like onions. It is messy: their sticky bodies draped over one another's on top of a nondescript bedspread, in a nondescriptly messy New York apartment.

I'd like a little more messy, please. I'd like a little more loose. I want to forget about the pots and pan, too. Let the charred dishes sit in the sink and get dirtier. I'd like to stay up too late and eat more bad Chinese. I'd like to make more messes with my writing. I'd like to slosh onto pages instead of tip toe. I'd like to fail miserably at writing a 100-page Sci-Fi novel. I'd like to be proud of pages wrinkled from indifference, and traced in brown watercolor coffee stains that no one will ever read. I'd like to live a little more, write a lot more.

I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?

Last Blog

On the whole, I am very content with the English education I've earned at UNCW, but in my senior seminar this semester I've noticed there is a missing link between me and some of my classmates. As we face the task of creating an online portfolio to reflect our accomplishments in the department, many of my classmates are in panic at creating even the simplest of pages. I am no expert web-page maker, but I'm confused that the levels of technological literacy are so varied among professional writing majors.

I am lucky to have taken classes on technical writing, design, writing and technology, classes that have taught me to maneuver technology with confidence. I have learned to tools of design and layout, such as the CRAP method, as well as how to implement technology such as Camtasia Studios to create an effective tutorial to teach others something. I am thankful for these tools because as I go out into the "real world" I feel confident that I can achieve tasks effectively and in a timely matter.

As for several of my classmates, I wish that they had been encouraged to take some technology classes so they would feel more confident in their degree. The times are changing, and more and more writing is being done online. Magazines hire writers, editors and design staff for strictly online work. One must be proficient in a wide range of softwares, and be able to manipulate his or her writing in a way that can be converted on paper and on a screen. I think that the Professional Writing program should require students to take more technology classes to augment their technological literacy, so that they can be better suited for the working world.

Second-to-last Blog

I have always loved to take pictures, but this semester has brought me closer to the issue of how technology serves our memories and the way we see the world. I like the way that, through a camera lens, I control how others see the world. If I choose to shoot from a downward angle, high above the subject or scene, I can provoke a completely different sentiment in those who view my picture, than if I decide to lay down at the base of a tree and photograph up its long, slim trunk.

Our photo project this semester was a refreshing change from the reading, and I'm grateful that I was forced to go out into parts of Wilmington that I wouldn't normally have gone, and observe and snap photos. I was proud of the pictures I took, and I felt that each were unique to me, despite the fact that another class member may have taken a similar photo. Working backwards, I'll first discuss the image on the far right (of the above three) that I took at the playground at Greenfield Lake. This picture has a lot of meaning to be because I will always remember that I took it while crawling around a jungle jim, and sliding through plastic tubes on my stomach. I am no small girl, so the sight of it was probably rather alarming, but the experience was priceless. I was alone on the playground, except for two small children, no older than four, so I was free to play like a kid. I swung on the swing set, slid down the slide. I'm graduating in a week, and it was so refreshing to play and take pictures that reflected the childlike simplicity of an empty playground. The photograph I showed here is of the inside of a multi-colored slide. I like it because, somehow, through the lens of the camera, the fact that it is a slide is lost. It could be anything, it could stand for something significant, something meaningful. For me, it is a daily reminder not to forget to play a little bit every day.

The second photograph represents the summer of 2007 which I spent abroad in Dijon, France. I lived with a kind widow Madame Devoux, and her cat whose name I can't remember. My time spent in France was the most enriching of my life. I have studied french for the last ten years, and can speak it fluently. It was my first experience overseas, so my senses were piqued and I wanted to take everything in that I could. I had classes every day except Saturdays and Sundays, so it was hard to find time to travel and I'd often beat myself over not going into Paris enough, or visiting surrounding countries due to my schoolwork, but I realized toward the end of the trip that the quiet, simple moments were what I would remember most. On sunny afternoons, I used to sit with my host mother in her backyard and discuss literature and politics, and she would hum and play with her cat. She had a beautiful garden and we would pick cherries from her cherry tree for dessert each night. This is a photograph I took of one of the flowers in her garden against the slate-colored sky of an on-coming storm. Each time I see it, I am back in Madame Devoux's garden, where I find beauty in simplicity and peacefulness. 

Finally, the first picture I chose to discuss is a photograph taken in 1989 of me and my father and my two older sisters. We're standing on a beach in Massachusetts in the wintertime. I love this photograph because it's one of those childhood photographs that depicts only contentment and love. Though I often complain about how technology ruins some of the "magic" of family moments or making memories, a camera is to thank for this beautiful image of my father and sisters that brings me comfort, and makes me happy. 

What's In a Hologram? Response to TIME magazine article "Whiteboards Out. Holograms In"

In TIME magazine article, "Whiteboards Out, Hollograms In," writer James Poniewozik addresses the re-illumination of election-night news and its anchors through their use of some rather off-the-wall, new technologies. The everyday news-viewing experience is often littered with plenty of techie gadgets, but the 2008 election saw some remarkable, occasionally overwhelming methods of providing (or, sort of providing) the news.

Poniewozik's thesis is driven in the line, "On the other hand, the election night also showcased how T.V. has successfully used technology to explain complicated subjects." Before this particular statement, he discusses "the special effects" of election night, such as "3-D graphics sprouted out of studio floors," and holograms, and seems to be asking, is all of this really necessary? In the aforementioned statement, he captures his thesis by taking in all of the information, and asking why it works or why it's a waste of time. His suggestion that the technology helps to explain complicated subjects is certainly true--at least, it is in my opinion. Though I took AP Government in high school, I am still shaky on the calculations that go in to the electoral college, and the issue of House/Senate seats and percentages confuses me beyond explanation. With the assistance of certain technologies, though, I am more easily able to comprehend this information. On CNN, for example, I was able to watch the anchor touch and color the Senate/House seats as the results came in. A 3-D image of the seats appeared on my T.V. screen and it was as easy as counting colored boxes in a line. Technology also allowed me to see the breakdown of city/county votes of every state in the United States. (After learning that my home state Virginia had gone blue-- I was able to see, within seconds, that my hometown had gone blue as well. This gave all the more reason to celebrate.)

As Poniewozik draws his article to a close, he acknowledges that we lived in a different world than the Tim Russerts, and Walter Cronkites did. Chalk boards and whiteboards have been phased out, and been replaced by newer, cleaner technology that offers three times the convenience and no hassle of markers that run out of ink. All that said, the election is now over, we have a new president-elect, but it's no easy time. We cannot pack up the holograms, shut off the computer screens, and tune out, but instead, must stay focused on the task at hand. This country needs healing in many ways: economically, socially, environmentally, and it's time that we turn our attention, energy and all of this amazing technology to get some real answers, and get to work.

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

Our recent photography assignment has propelled the issue of pairing writing and photography to the forefront of  my mind. Somehow, despite the fact that I am a writing major, I have never seriously considered the role of photography as it pertains to written text. But where are we without images alongside our words? Would an expose be as effective if there weren't pictures of the starving children, or the storm survivors that are central to the piece? In my English senior seminar with Dr. Huntley, we just finished reading Jed Horne's Breach of Faith, a journalistic exploration of what happened in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. After reading, we viewed Spike Lee's documentary "When the Levees Broke" and have 

begun to delve into why these texts are so insightful when placed side-by-side.

In Breach of Faith, Horne strives to provide an objective and detailed account, including

personal accounts, meteorology, politics, and engineering, to highlight why and how the natural

disaster of a hurricane, either before it hit, while in the eye or in the aftermath, became unnatural.

Lee's documentary, while just as objective as Horne's text, seeks to achieve something vastly different.

The story of Lee's "requiem" lies in the voice and on the faces of Katrina's victims. When put together,

the viewer is given a complete pan of the disaster, how it grew to such a high caliber, and why it didn't

have to be that way. 

When comparing a written text to a piece of photography or film, I think the fundamental

question that needs to be asked is, what are the roles of investigative journalism, and documentary

film? Are their objectives that different? In the instance of these two texts, I find they share a subject

matter, but seek to effect their viewers/readers in different ways. There certain aspects of tragedy 

that are better told from the mouths and faces of the survivors, and other points that are 

explained more fully from a removed, strictly factual point of view.

Though my reading illuminated a lot of political, and socio-economic aspects of pre- and post-storm

Katrina, I preferred the connection I felt to "When the Levees Broke" due to visual stimulation. As I

watched men, women and children wade through chest-deep water, as I saw bits of the great city of

New Orleans float away, I was emotionally shaken to tears, anger, and guilt.

I realize that I am rambling, but I am just slowly learning that photography and film play a big role in the realm of writing. I am also realizing that in instances where images are unavailable or irrelevant, the written word must be strong enough to stand on its own. To create images so vivid that readers don't need a picture to imagine what the situation is like. I am looking forward to taking more photographs, letting my words tell the stories they cannot, and letting pictures bring my words to life.

You Can Find Me Skypin'

A few weekends ago, my best friend and I were complaining about missing one another, and never getting enough time to spend face-to-face. This is normal and quite frequent conversation for us. We can catch up by phone but distractions alway seem to pop up and interrupt our conversation. So, we decided to replace our usual complaining with action, and stumbled upon Skype. We are now addicted to Skype, a web-based software that allows us to see each other while we talk through internet calling. The thing I have discovered about Skype, especially its video feature, is that somehow it is easier for me to schedule a Skype session than to orchestrate a successful phone call.

Most members use Skype for its unlimited, free Skype-to-Skype calls, but it has many other features. Users can get great rates on national and international calls, text messages, voicemail, an online number and call forwarding. These allow users and their friends to contact each other anytime, anywhere. Skype is also great for businesses, because conference calls can become actual conferences where ideas can be transmitted in a simulated round-table discussion. Skype is offered in 28 languages and is used is nearly every country in the world. 

As I think about this web technology, I am reminded of today's group presentation on GrandCentral, because, as noted in the presentation, GrandCentral was already outdated when it was released. Skype, which was introduced in 2003, and others like it, have been offering similar if not better services for quite some time. 

I prefer the video-calling feature because I love to see the faces of the people I love. With Skype, my best friend can show me her new apartment, and she can see how big my dog has gotten. Though these things seem insignificant, they are important to me. I have been over 400 miles away from my friends and family for the past three years, and it's difficult for me accept that our daily lives have very little to do with one another. I am the first to acknowledge when a technology is extravagant or unnecessary, and I don't think Skype is one of these. It's hard enough to stay in touch with loved ones to then have to worry about ever-increasing phone rates. Instead, all we have to do is log on and we are instantly connected.

Thank You!

Dear Ian (Last Name?! Eek!),

Thank you so much for visiting our class last week. Forgive the fact that we aren't the rowdiest bunch; we are, after all, in a writing and technology class!

I enjoyed your talk last week due to the fact that it was both informative and informal. It's rare that a guest speaker visits one of my classes and sits (at the class' level) and talks with us about common interests as if we were having a conversation. Your approach to a sometimes confusing and alienating topic made it all the more inviting. 

The topic of writing and technology is an odd one in my mind. I must admit that I resent technology at times. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all that it has done and continues to do to expand the possibilities for every facet of life, but sometimes I wish I could cut out all the background noise--even the click of my own fingers typing--and just write. A pencil, a sheet of paper, and pure inspiration, I assume, would be all I need to create the perfect line, the most compelling story.

I keep coming back to a theme of both your talk and the material we have studied this semester, that technology is constantly evolving, being molded to fit the needs and desires of an ever-changing world. I am thankful, for example, that medical-technology advancements are being made to meet the rise in breast cancer in recent years (now one in seven women said to be affected), but I'm not so cheerful about all the new gadgets that are labeled necessities. My boyfriend, who used to be notorious for leaving his cell phone at home, recently purchased a BlackBerry and was instantly attached to its buttons. He doesn't leave home without it--in fact, he doesn't do much of anything without it. Now, in the evenings, a time which he used to spend reading or writing, he spends clicking and scrolling away on his BlackBerry. My point? I'm not sure I have one except to ask that these technologies help us, give us directions when we're lost, but how do they limit us? This was also brought up when we talked about security devices and monitoring devices, such as a the crime-trackers, as technology to be considered. When do we reach the point where we pause and ask if this technology is helping or hurting us. There may not be an answer, perhaps not yet, but I wanted you to know that your talk has propelled me to continue thinking about these things. 

I may not always be up-to-date with the newest software and technologies, but I do keep my eye on them. I will never stop asking questions, whether in my head or aloud, because I think they are important. In my opinion, there are aspects of our lives to be experienced without all the strings (or PDAs) attached, but at the same time, there are elements of technology that improve the quality of our lives in many ways. I feel a little bit like I am on one of those radio call-in shows--they would label me Weary of Technology in Wilmington-- but I simply want to challenge the notion that we always need to be "well connected" to get by. I hope there is at least a small sliver of hope for those of us who still like the feel of real paper between our fingers.

Thanks again for visiting! Good luck with all that the future holds!

Sincerely,

Lia Kerner

Posting Blogs and Taking Names: Obama's Fancy, Flashy "Cybergenic Edge"

I have to admit that I discovered ABC News writer Paul Saffo's article as a result of countless Google searches involving phrases such as "today's hottest technology" and "article on technology." Needless to say, I wasn't feeling too inspired or creative. When I found Saffo's "Obama's 'Cybergenic' Edge" I was immediately interested--most likely because John F. Kennedy's name appears within the first sentence, but because I felt the topic of technology should be a crucial issue in the 2008 election. It is nonsensical to suggest the leader of our country need not know how e-mail works, or how to conduct a simple search in Google. Paul Saffo addresses this very point by suggesting that Barack Obama has a "cybergenic edge" over John McCain.

Cybergenic, Saffo explains, is today's equivalent of what Kennedy and Nixon strove for in 1960-- to be mediagenic, the ability to "reach through a T.V. camera and grab the attention and votes of passive voters" (abcnews.go.com). As mass T.V. media fades, it is being rapidly replaced (heck, it was long ago replaced) by the media of the Web and cyberspace. According to Saffo, a political candidate now must be able to "surf, blog, IM and twitter their way into the hearts of activist "netizens."" A fact that hurt Hillary Clinton in her campaign for the Presidency. While Clinton's campaign was too heavily focused on mass media of T.V., Obama's campaign moved in swiftly, conquering "the world of cyberspace," a large part of why, in Saffo's opinion, Obama won the nomination. Saffo credits much of the record-shattering numbers in fundraising money leveraged by the Obama campaign to its web span--reaching to cyber-junkies all over the country.

The discourse of the importance of technology is also a study of the evolution of technology. In a section entitled, "From Firesides to Firewalls," Saffo discusses how each President has had his own personal technological shtick. For Franklin D. Roosevelt it was the the radio, for Lydon Johnson it was his "green vinyl helicopter pilot's chair with a built-in ashtray" that he used as his desk chair. History, then, reveals in plain speak that technology plays a role in the legacy of each leader, and in the 21st century, this idea cannot be more true. Even in his campaign, Obama has not only covered miles on land, but endless territory in cyberspace, spreading his name through the popular "Yes We Can" YouTube video, and his energetic and attractive website.

Some may cast the issue off as "no big deal," and true, it's certainly not as important as which candidate possesses the leadership skills to pull our country away from an economic depression. But the issue of technology should not be cast aside in this election. If so many forms of our everyday lives are being turned digital-- our relationships, our books, music, movies, all of our interests-- shouldn't the leader of our country be at least familiar with the jargon of it all? Shouldn't he be able to send an e-mail? When it comes down to it the real issue is that if one candidate-- who just so happens to fit the profile of John McCain-- is unfamiliar with these things, could he also be quite out of step with society, one that is teeming with talk of technological advances and their products? Saffo admits that he will be very surprised if Obama isn't elected President on November 4th, and I have to agree. "Let us hope," Saffo writes in closing, "that Obama's cybergenic instincts enable the first cybergenic president to govern as effectively as he ran" (abcnews.go.com).

Article: http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/Politics/Story?id=5046275&page=1