Where the Mind Sprocket staff writes about inspiration, communication, culture, storytelling, and more.
The Back Page is where the feet go up on the desk at the end of the day. It’s that good book with a mug of hot cocoa just before bed. It’s where we goof off after a hard day’s work. The Back Page is our blog.
XXII
I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
- Emily Dickinson
I hesitate to write a lengthy post, but can’t help but share what I’ve been reading and thinking about lately.
First is “The Jungle”, by Upton Sinclair, that book I carried with me to Starbucks, a book that focuses on life during the Industrial Revolution. Second is Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden”, perhaps remembered most as something many of us had to read in high school. But I’ve returned to it years later because of one word repeated throughout that has always stuck in my head: simplicity.
The themes of these two books, contrasting in nature, are still relevant today. We still live by the terms of the Industrial Revolution. We can make 200 in a day? So why not push harder and make 215? Why should it be impossible? If we can do it, we should. Bigger and better is always best. Etc, etc, etc. Let’s work ourselves to the bone, and make as much product and money as we can. At the same time, people want to return to the old and familiar, the simple. Organically grown food is not such a new thing. Neither is writing by hand, or walking or biking instead of driving. And yet people are returning to these things with fervor as a means to escape what it is that they so strongly desire, more.
These books were written 100, 150 years ago, and still carry in them ideas that are still churning around today. It’s amazing, it’s relevant, and it makes me glad that I’m not reading only what’s on the current bestsellers list.
“Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. “
–Thoreau
I’ve been going to Starbucks every workday for almost two weeks now. I’m pretty ashamed for getting myself into that sort of routine, which is not only helping to destroy the independent coffee house, but it is costing me a good deal of money - and I can’t even say that their coffee does it for me.
However, had I not been at Starbucks this morning, I would not have been able to have a … moment, encounter, I don’t even know what to call it.
I ordered my Americano. I sat down because I had like seven minutes to kill. I pulled “The Jungle” by Upton Sinclair out of my purse and began to read. And then came the nice young man that I ordered my coffee from. He was wiping off tables and asked me casually “What are you reading?”
I quickly realized that I’d have to give him an honest answer. “‘The Jungle’ by Upton Sinclair” I said, knowing full well that even a few weeks ago, that would have meant nothing to me, and figuring it probably wouldn’t to him, either. He would probably ask what it was about, and I would have to tell him.
I was right. “What’s it about?” he asked. To which I launched into a little summation about the meat-packing industry in Chicago at the turn of the century. “It’s really pretty gory,” I said, thinking that I didn’t sound much like a nicely-dressed-in-pink, twenty-something girl who stopped at Starbucks on her way to her professional job. I wondered if I should give him details about the plot so it would sound more interesting, until I realized that maybe it wasn’t the best conversation piece. So I didn’t. And he politely said “Oh, I’ll have to read it sometime,” and went on his way.
It seems ridiculous to be self conscious about what I’m reading. But I have to admit, I would have felt a lot more like a normal, pleasant, professional yonung lady if I had been reading something by Jane Austin. Stereotypes. Oh well.
Shouldn’t the days that are the most boring and tedious be the days where my mind is filled with creativity? You know, since because I’m not really doing anything, my mind should be roaming all over the place in its attempt to remain functional?
As it seems to happen, the duller the day, the less my mind feels like doing anything.
Any sympathizers? Givers of solutions?
I don’t know if you have noticed, but Americans are slowly, and passively, giving up their liberties for alleged “securities.”
Ben Franklin said:
“Who drops a liberty to gain a security will lose both.”
How is being searched and seized without a warrant constitutional? I’m beginning to feel Big Brother on my back, and I am going to have to side with Ben Franklin. Our liberty and security have become synonymous — what happens when security is so tight we won’t even be able to move freely in our own country?
What the forefathers said and intended in the Constitution has been thrown out the window.
And why do TSA Agents and police have such power without anybody raising their voice in protest (most notably our politicians who have been elected and have sworn to defend the liberties granted in our Constitution)?
Perhaps you’ve set some reading goals for yourself this summer. Good for you! I have done the same thing. And with the anticipation of a week to be spent in West Virginia, I chose five books to take on the trip. Only one did I finish, “The Crimson Petal and the White” by Michel Faber.
I am thrilled to have finished this book, and I have some strong feelings about it that I feel compelled to share. Register on Goodreads* and check out my scathing review (unfortunately, if you aren’t a member, you won’t be able to see it - so join!). If you don’t want to do that, I’ll give you the brief version below:
“The Crimson Petal and the White” is filled with protagonists that are difficult to care about; poor and inconsistent ways of storytelling; a plot as dull as an old razor blade; disappointing and actually nonexistent death scenes of important characters (in my opinion, avoided because the author thinks he is only good at writing sex scenes, which in this book are tasteless and frequent); and more!
I’d say see for yourself, but I’d hate for you to waste your time if you’ve got a good list of summer reading already. However, I also think it’s important for everyone to develop their own opinions. So if you have thoughts, good or bad, on this book, please do share!
* Goodreads is like a huge online book club where you can see what your friends are reading, read reviews, and keep a list of books to plan on/want to read in the future. The site is well-organized and easy to navigate through.
I wrote this on June 5th of 2007 in my journal:
“My mom bought me this book about how to succeed in business, and I haven’t even gotten twenty pages into it before the writer is telling me that I need to specialize in something and not do too many different things. That sounds so boring. How can anyone be passionate about just one thing?”
I still go back and forth about this condition of being a good at a bunch of things instead of being awesome at one thing. Is it good? Is it bad? Does it make me look talented, or more like a flake?
This past week, I was on vacation. I wrote very little, surprisingly, but I did learn how to knit. I feel bad bumping hobbies and pastimes around sometimes, especially ones to which I want to give priority, but I’m going to get a warm and very green sweater out of it. So if I didn’t write about how beautiful the sky was on Thursday night in my journal because I was practicing my knit stitch instead, will the world still turn?
I think it might.
How is the summer reading coming for you?
I haven’t found anything which I’d be excited to share with anyone. I’ve read quite a bit of philosophy and theory lately, but perhaps I need some more of the plot variety.
Would you happen to have any recommendations?
Your Muse (i.e. your unique creative spark) is a delicate being that requires nourishment and coaxing. These 5 tools are what I have found indispensable in charming my Muse.
1. To write on, you cannot beat the legendary Moleskine. This may seem like an obvious choice on this list, but the Moleskine has become popular for a reason. Moleskine’s are where I begin all of my writing, and I highly recommend you to do the same. My Muse lurks inside the pocket behind the back cover…
2. To write with, the smoothest, easiest, best-free-flow pen is the Pilot G2. The G2 is the pen of choice for the majority of Moleskine owners, a particularly selective breed, and that should tell you something. As a gel pen, it runs through ink fairly fast, but you can solve that problem easily: Sam’s Club has great deals for replacement pens or refills. I don’t leave the house without a G2 next to my wallet, and a Moleskine in my back pocket or hand. I think my Muse has a summer home in my G2…
3. To sustain you while writing, Caribou Coffee is the nectar of the gods. In fact, I’m convinced that my muse drinks a cup every morning. Caribou Coffee is: fresher, less bitter, tastier, more natural, chemical free, and offers more unique coffee beans than (you guessed it) the ubiquitous Starbucks. Those who replace their Folgers or Maxwell with Caribou will become best friends with their Muse.
4. One month ago, I turned to typewriters to cure my increasing irritation with using computers to write. (Writing on computers has often frustrated me, because I am not producing words or meanings, but pixels that can be wiped away or destroyed at the drop of a hat. Sometimes, it just felt fake.) Whacking away with real ink on real paper with real machinery jumpstarts the writer juices. Just like writing by hand, engaging in something physical and immediately real stirs up the Muse without fail.
5. The less intensive and non-expensive alternative to a typewriter is to minimize all your computer distractions by downloading and using DarkRoom. DarkRoom is free software (mmhmm, free!) that maximizes into your whole screen, blocking out all distractions. When you fire it up, all that’s there is your writing. Beautiful! All Muses thrive on focus and minimal distraction, and this software does the job for a lot of folks.
(screenshot by they.misled.us)
What are some tools you use when you write? Maybe they aren’t even on this list! Leave a comment, I’d love to learn about your favorite tools.
Ouch. That title is a bold statement. For the past few weeks, I’ve been searching for evidence to the contrary and have yet to find it.
The Constitution of the United States is not just clear, but so extremely clear that misconstruing it is close to impossible (Article IX of the Bill of Rights even tells you what not to misconstrue, as do the Federalist Papers).
Article I, Section 8 enumerates all the powers of the Federal Government. Nowhere is any mention of regulating, centralizing, or otherwise federal involvement with education mentioned. Only the powers mentioned in the Constitution are granted to Congress. In other words, Congress is not granted the power to create the Department of Education (even though they did so in 1979).
I’m wondering a few things: has the Department’s constitutionality ever been tried in court? How many people in the education system know of this? Do people not care, or am I missing something completely?
(I realize that this is technically “political”, but I find it to be a very interesting topic. Almost 30 years of an unconstitutional department? Wow!)
On a walk through the city this past weekend, I stopped in the park to see if I could catch some photos and maybe even a few thoughts in my notebook.
I happened upon two birds, who kept following each other incessantly. Either they were best friends, or one was male, the other female, and the male was pursuing a love interest. Quite diligently, I might add. Usually I find pigeons together in a big group, but these two were the only pigeons around. Immediately after I captured a quick snapshot of the two (love)birds, a man walked up and stomped right in between them.
Now mind you, I ran into the middle of a pigeon pack only to watch them scatter as a child. But this specific instance was rather perturbing, mostly because I was taking such enjoyment in watching these two birds. (Meanwhile, a black squirrel was scampering about them.)
Maybe that man was having a bad day or his parents taught him to always break up bird friendships. I hope not, but I’ll give him the benefit of doubt.
As I continued this walk, I came up to another intersection where a man and a women were serving a line of people hot meals on trays from the back of their van– at dusk on a weekend even. I wanted to capture this scene in a photo from across the street, like I was a newspaper journalist, but I simply couldn’t. Happening upon this site felt like I happened upon a naked person in her own bathroom. The event was just raw and vulnerable– I didn’t want anyone to catch me observing, I felt like I wasn’t supposed to run into this. People serving people. Ah, now my walk had redemption.
Go see Wall-E if you haven’t already. It’s quite the social commentary, I wasn’t expecting to see all my criticisms of American culture rolled into an animated movie in local theaters. The message doesn’t bombard or attack, though. Even without looking for a message, it’s still just an enjoyable animation.
Sometimes the truth is
Not what you want it to be.
Is it ever what you expected?
No, probably not.
Are you okay with that?
Are we meant to create truth or
Are we meant to find it?
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