Where have all the good words gone?

I used to have conversations with people, read texts, and frequently encountered words I couldn’t define, couldn’t explain, couldn’t place in the correct context. It was intriguing, because it was the beginning of a fervent discovery: looking it up, writing it down, trying to use it and not forget it. Not forget it. Interesting. Does dis-use make it any less real? If a thing is not used for a use, it is useless, is it not? In literary terms, I believe the word is obsolete.

Am I surrounded by stupid people?
Are my social movements any less academic than they used to be? Possibly. Have my chosen media of engagement changed? Perhaps. My departure from the academic realm, however, was based on a desire to enter the ‘professional’ world.

How do we define ‘professional’?
It’s concerning, frankly. Synonyms and definitions bespeak competence, qualification, skill. Perhaps somewhat more concerning is the connection with habit, with routine, with continuing a cycle that is, not as professional as it purports to be.

Speaking of cycles
If we are to believe that words shape meaning (and in Victoria’s Empire, we do), and we lose all the good words, and the depth of meaning, description and emotion they evoke and, by extension, the shaping of our own realities within that meaning, because they fall out of use and because we have transferred them out of reality, and into a virtual space, where are we in a few decades’ time?

Modern Talking: Illiteracy in the Age of Information (a fairy tale for adults)

“The purpose of a fishtrap is to catch fish, and when the fish are caught, the trap is forgotten. The purpose of a rabbit snare is to catch rabbits. When the rabbits are caught, the snare is forgotten. The purpose of words is to convey ideas. When the ideas are grasped, the words are forgotten. Where can I find a man who has forgotten words? He is the one I would like to talk to.” Chuang-Tsu

In the beginning was the word and, once upon a time, in all human-populated areas of the world people adhered to a system of grammar and punctuation, so that the meaning of the word could be preserved.

There were good words and bad words, formal words and colloquial words, polite words and swear words. There were people who couldn’t spell, and there were people who couldn’t punctuate, but there were also people who upheld a system of consistency and, by extension, the integrity and overall intellect of the people who read the words because words shaped thoughts, and thoughts shaped actions; and words, the meaning that they inferred and expressed, contributed to an abstract called culture.

Then one day, along came something virtual. Unfortunately a large portion of how this virtual thing operated was based on words, and the codes of letters and words. Because this virtual thing was so limitless, so infinite and so huge, humans, already ‘dumbed down’ by a large degree, felt obliged to fill this void with meaningless words, misspelt words, badly connected words. And they did it on a scale referred to as the ‘global village’ so that these ‘wrong’ words could be read by global village idiots everywhere.

The global idiocy spread by something ‘viral’; it spread its sticky web through single countries, and then across continents; its ease and sociability making sure that everyone picked up on it.
It happened at a time when people already struggled to communicate- they got divorced, got retrenched, overspent, overindulged. And then, they stopped talking to one another directly altogether. And what of culture? If a culture of self is anything to go by, a self-reflexive, self-centred kind of culture, then that’s what happened. And they all lived alone, unhappily ever after.

What the world needs now

...is not love, sweet love. It is not war, power, religion or politics, or some ‘higher’ form of institutionalised belief or guidance. It is rather, a return to basics- by which I infer, those fundamentals which we have long forgotten.

Natural energy

A creature of comfort, and a resident of the western world, I realise that the forces of the natural world are pushed further out of mind than they ought to be. At the risk of sounding Romantic (which is no reference to Valentine, but rather the philosophical school of thought which dominated the latter part of the eighteenth century), I have to agree that the beauty of the dawn, trite and clichéd as it may be, shows us that the earth will continue to revolve and the sun will rise regardless of the day-to-day problems we encounter. As the first rays of morning light strike the dewdrops the natural world is awakened- not by the irritation of an alarm clock, not by the jar of a caffeine buzz, but by the inherent rhythmic cycles of the earth, and the command of a universe greater than humanity. Are we the lost creatures, the only beings who don’t succumb to the morning call of mother earth?

Molecular resonance

Somewhat of a recluse and what you might even go so far as to call a social outcast, I have often pondered references to ‘connections’ with other people. The notion of our connectedness to one another, as brothers and sisters of the earth, and the apparently inter-dependent nature (or unnature) of humanity (or inhumanity) has always baffled me and, being the independent person I like to consider myself, been something I have always wanted to deny. What cannot be denied, when people congregate (yes, the religious connotation is intentional) and celebrate good musical rhythm, is the molecular resonance that we vibrate on and respond to. Our primal desire to dance and express ourselves as human animals in response to evocative sounds and rhythms may be repressed, may be denied and very far out of reach, but certainly has not been lost. And, only when the ego has been relegated and relinquished, the intrinsic forces that define us living creatures can emerge.

It is infrequent that Victoria makes concessions. It is not infrequent that Victoria preaches what she does not practice and, she is fully aware that the gist of this piece purports the loss of ego and promotes some semblance of selflessness, despite the fact that it has been written entirely in the first person. Enigma? Contradiction? Perhaps. But perhaps also a step ahead of religious dogma or political indoctrination.

Lessons in catharsis #3

The multi-purpose role of the PR person
1. To take the scanty information obtained from the sales people, coupled with the urgency and uncertainty of the client and compile it into something of a brief for the designer
2. To live up to the undocumented expectation of the clients who have been wined, dined and entertained by the sales people
3. To compensate for, and attempt to disguise the administrative ineptitude of the sales people
4. To overcome the crappy attitude of the designer, the unreasonable expectation of the client and deliver first class artwork that will sell the product while the sales people are preoccupied with the wining and dining of more clients
5. Think around and compensate for all readings and interpretations of the brief by the designer, including not reading and not following it.

Lessons in catharsis #2

The working definitions of the designer:
1. The ability to take the elements of a CI, splash in some colour and a different font and call it art
2. Are synonymous with a crappy attitude
3. Consider themselves exempt from sense and accountability, in so much as they believe the brief has been adhered to
4. Does not communicate in media such as words. This would include things such as telephone calls and emails. Rather unfortunate if you don’t work in the same office space

Lessons in catharsis #1

The unspoken functions of the sales person:
1. To wine, dine and entertain potential clients
2. To beg administrative futility and ineptitude
3. To use the very common gift of the gab and pass it off as an occupational skill
4. To be able to claim such benefits as entertainment allowances, exorbitant telephone bills and travel expenses for the apparent purpose of point one, while actually only really achieving points two and three.

Bogey Wonderland

Toddlers cry for many reasons: hunger, tiredness, pain, or to deliver an opinion with impact, among many. Toddlers are also notorious for behaviour commonly referred to, in some circles, as tantrums. Scientists have yet to identify a primal need fulfilment associated with, or caused by, tantrums. Psychologists have raised numerous hypotheses, opinions and suggested coping mechanisms for the emotionally draining experience of the aforementioned state of being. After bearing only one child, who has reached the ripe old age of 19 months, I can say with confidence that I have discovered the physiological reason behind the Throwing of the Tantrum.

Toddlers, without the rather acquired skill of nose-blowing, coupled with the tendency to force obstacles up into, as opposed to out of the nasal cavity, require a reasonable force with which to rid the nose of boogers that multiply on a par with household bacteria. Enter the opportunity to rinse the nose with salt, tears and excess mucus, while break dancing hysterically on the floor. Never in my life have I seen bigger boogers emerge from my daughter’s very cute, but oh-so mucky, nostrils as after a championship Throwing of the Tantrum. And never in my life have I been faced with so daunting a task as the clearing of the child’s nostrils. It generally requires both parents, a cotton bud, reams of tissues and one hell of a fight before the parents retreat from the task tail-between-legs and the toddler is left in a crumpled, tantrummed mess on the floor. On closer inspection, there is something more to the scene though: the willing exit of the offending booger, moving in and out of the nostril in time to the child’s breathing. One wipe... and one clean nose.

While the information contained herein is based on no scientific evidence, and completely on lay observation, I do hope that it will, in some way, give hope to the parents who fight day-in and day-out to perform the mandatory duties such as nose cleaning and nail cutting. And, to those at the end of their tether, perhaps there is a reason behind the tantrum, that serves everyone...

Vignette #1: Sociability

~
It was hot. Having left my attention at the post office or, at least somewhere en-route, it wasn’t until he was standing right in front of me that I realised I was in the way. I looked up and smiled; he nodded. It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs that I realised the new facial hair. I should’ve said something, I thought, that’s the kind of thing that starts conversation. No, I stopped myself, he might think that’s flirtatious. I caught my bedraggled, frizzy-haired reflection in the glass door and laughed to myself, thinking of the grey haired figure that was retreating. No, I don’t suppose any exchange between us could ever be construed as flirtatious.
~

On an empty page

So here we are
Alone.
It's been a long time
Since we last met
With no agenda,
No pressing urgency.
Just you and I
Stripped own to our bareness:
Matter and persuasion.

IN VICTORIA’S EMPIRE...

Everything makes sense
There are no rules, except Victoriansims
There is no religion, except Victorianism
M&Ms are part of an essential diet
Curtsys are allowed

People who drive SUVs should...

...not park on blind corners or on blind rises unless their tank is glass, or really wants to be in the middle of a three car pile-up
...also consider that not everyone else on the road is driving an SUV, and not drive in the middle of their lane, under the impression that people behind them, who happen to be driving jelly beans, can see through them
...not drive up little cars’ asses and try and bully them into driving faster
...not think they have superior rights just because their cars cost the same as a four bedroomed house in the northern suburbs

On Marriage

AKA wedlock (rhymes with headlock)
Why is it, when a happily-living-together couple is blessed with the news of a third life entering the equation, the ever-so sensitive topic of marriage has to enter the fray?
The ring: my absolute favourite! The close-up Hollywood scene of eligible bachelor kneeling down with little box in hand, slowly opening to reveal multiple-carated ring to the gasp of soon-to-be fiancé…what is that? Is the size of the ring over compensation for little man syndrome?
The dress: favoured by traditionalists and dreamt about by girls from knee-height onwards, oh the white dress? Come on? In this day and age? Let’s all get over ourselves.
The handover: from father to be husband, does she really need male guardianship for her entire life?
The definition of self in relation the man: why is it that so many women take such exuberant happiness out of being Mrs. so & so?
** Note: these are not entirely rhetorical questions; if someone out there really does have one or more of the answers, I would love to be enlightened.