dorothy made me do it

after assigning ten books and numerous essays last week, my professor gave us a brief instruction for reading the aforementioned books:  (and i paraphrase) "when you come across something in your reading that makes you think:  stop.  if it is on page 23, don't read the rest of the book.  stop and think about what you've read.  if you have one good idea all semester, you have succeeded."

so, my goal this week was to have one cogent thought.  thankfully, i had a couple. however, i'm not sure if any of them constitute "one good idea." they are more like a few good amoeba-ideas.

today, i decided to run my errands on foot since the heat broke, the skies opened up, and it felt like greenville (sans the abundant farie rings i hear tell of).  it was one of those soggy days that keeps you attempting to breathe under water.  good for the skin.  good for the grey cells--keeps them lubricated.

one of the essays i read this week left me thinking: "translation: literature and letters" by octavio paz.  ironically, it is a translation from spanish, so it makes the reading even more faceted.  the essay speaks not of the impossibility of translation (even though he acknowledges most scholars believe this impossibility exists), but of the unique outcomes of translation, and the act of creation which occurs when a text is translated. his use of the term "translation" begins to broaden as the essay develops to the point where he proposes that "no text can be completely original because language itself, in its very essence, is already a translation:  first from the nonverbal world and then because each sign and each phrase is a translation of another sign, another phrase.  however, the inverse of this reasoning is also entirely valid:  all texts are originals because each translation has its own distinctive character.  up to a point, each translation is a creation and thus constitutes a unique text."

ok.  that's the background.  my point is to establish that his use of translation is not only referring to a dictionary in hand, linear, reproduction of a text from spanish to english; but an understanding of a text even in one's mother tongue.  the explanation of what we mean by a phrase requires the use of another phrase (another paraphrase of his idea--if you're following this: a phrase to describe a phrase that was originally a phrase!  a translation if you will--have i lost you?)

well, now that we're all relatively on the same page with this paz fellow, here's the interesting part:  (he quotes an englishman quoting a frenchman--we're marinating in irony now): translators "should make themselves invisible behind the texts and, if fully understood, the texts will speak for themselves." and here's where i make MY point: performers of all types are translators of text.  when an actor or musician steps on stage, he or she is translating a text for an audience.  going back to mr. paz's (consulting my strunk and white) text: "each translation is a creation and thus constitutes a unique text." the goal of a great performer is to make him or herself invisible, and allow the text to speak for itself.  all the while, embracing the act of translation as an act of creation with the outcome of a uniquely personal text.

this is not deconstruction in its pejorative sense!  i can't help but think of dorothy sayers and her thesis that all humans are creators because we are the product of The Creator.  this thesis is the soul of WHY we "translate" as humans.  it is the beautiful symmetry of secular and sacred at the heart of all truth.

now i shall ponder the epic mysteries of dorothy's journey through oz.  i'm sure to find something there.

book lists and other things that make my head hurt

my book list has come in.  now, when my ship comes in.....we'll save that for another day.

for those of you that might find this of interest (for those that don't--humor me will you?  i'm a pathetic mess here in big D, and i'm just looking for some affirmation):

Everything Is Miscellaneous: The Power of the New Digital Disorder

Continental Short Stories: The Modern Tradition

The Structure of Scientific Revolutions

Homo Ludens

Futuring: The Exploration of the Future

The Unanswered Question: Six Talks at Harvard

New Perspectives on Historical Writing

Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature

Adaptations: From Text to Screen, Screen to Text

Film Art: An Introduction

How to Study History

Telling the Truth about History

The Return of Martin Guerre

Le Retour de Martin Guerre

The Poetics of Space


some look more manageable than others; some look more interesting than others; and some make me clutch my hair in abject terror (hence the head hurt).  the last book on the list looks to make my heart sing.  i started reading it, and although my virtual dictionary has had the champagne smashed over its bow, my heart started to sing (even if tentatively, and with the accompaniment of a sluggish, hot dog fingered bass player).  but imagination, phenomenology, housework, and logos are weaving themselves into an anemic harmony that might become a one hit wonder.

when you step out your front door

last week i stepped out of my front door (well, actually it was my garage), got in the drivers seat of my car, and followed a blue and orange rental truck for 18 hours on its way to dallas, texas.  all the way here i wondered why i would leave friends, a barn-get away, familiarity, and a steady income to enter into this unknown.  besides the obvious (going to school--again), there is a good answer: because if i didn't, it would be wrong.  i've not felt so sure that something was so right for so long with so many reasons to say no.  i'm not very adventurous, i'm terrified of meeting new people, i'm afraid of everything, i don't generally live on the edge financially (when i reach 5,000 in my checking account, i'm broke), and i frankly wasn't interested in going to school again.

for the last few years i became discontent with my career (yes, i have a career--weird).  i was ready to quit and get a job at starbucks.  i wanted to do something--anything--different.  a year ago i went to peru, and survived 10 days in or near the amazon rain forest.  i took a backpack.  i took very few showers (and when i did get one it was cold). i slept on the front porch of a school perched out over the amazon river right by the "bucket" (feel free to ask me about the night all the used toilet paper ended up in my bed). i was hungry, tired, dirty.  it was the happiest i'd been in years.  nothing i needed mattered anymore.  i went to sleep one cold night on the front of a dirty boat, and woke up to the sun rising over the amazon river and pink dolphins arching out of the water.  everything i needed i had in that moment.  and it was enough.

so i decided it was time to suck it up.  i would like my job--no matter what.  i would do the very best i could--no matter what.  i would work hard--no matter what.  i would put aside my fears and complaints (against everyone and especially GOD) and excuses and i would suck it up.  if i could live out of a backpack on the amazon and like it, why couldn't i do my job and like it?  if GOD could call me to peru for 10 days and give me courage and joy, why couldn't he call me to teach and give me courage and joy?  it made perfect sense.

i started liking my job.  it didn't happen overnight.  it happened though, and i didn't realize it.  i was too busy working.  so i applied to school in a field i never imagined possible for me, to a program that was clearly beyond my reach.  i didn't believe it would happen, and neither did anyone else (thankfully, they didn't tell me that until later), but i was content with that because i liked my job.

so here i am back in peru.  i have my backpack (it's got a little more in it this time around), and i might wake up in the morning with toilet paper in my bed.  but this is where i am today, and it's where i'm going to continue to suck it up and enjoy the journey.  because who knows, maybe tomorrow the sun will rise and there will be purple dolphins.  and that will be enough.  and it will be all i need.  and i will be thankful for the simple gift of this opportunity.