help

so, in case anyone was wondering if it is weird to read your blog out loud, it is. it's one thing to write something and in your head to make it sound good; but reading it out loud makes it sound about an inch deep and as comprehensive as a post-it note. all my efforts, all that listening to NPR radio voices and i can't do a decent reading of a personal essay in my living room. an aspiring blogger - not an easy job. not as easy as it looks, people.

so my question is: does something have to sound good out loud to be a good bit of writing? because i'm wondering that if it only has the dimension of sounding good in one's mind, but not aloud, then perhaps i need to rethink my composition strategies. because right now it feels like that incredibly uncomfortable feeling of hearing a recording of your voice on a tape your mom recorded and you run from the room yelling "ew! that can't be me!"

giving advice to your siblings reminds you that you need to live that way too.

the map of the Congo called me

i'm studying in the map section of the HBLL - 2nd floor. one of my favorite reasons for studying here is because there is a sign that says "may not be conducive to studying" by all the study tables and the fact that the drinking fountain on the east side sprays really high when you first push the button down.

i was looking around tonight and noticed that there are lists of what maps are in each of the wide drawers lining each aisle. i began to be curious of what a map of the middle of Africa would look like up close. what is there? where do the rivers run and the mountains jut upwards? are there forests, big cities, major highways? i tried to picture the people and the romantic image of a storybook Africa ignited into my homework-weary mind.

but this curiosity and fascination is a century too late. i mean, how many kids do you know that ask for a cartography set or an atlas for Christmas? the world of maps has been replaced by the Discovery Channel and National Geographic online. i felt like i was venturing over some dusty and forgotten boundary into a world when frontiers were not all realized, quantized, imperialized and i felt the cool, refreshing taste of wonder that must have persisted in the mind of Vespucci.

but by now, people have walked on the moon and sent spacecraft to mars. i can flip on my computer and google-earth the Sahara. frontiers are at our fingertips and i sat here and wondered if that sense of awe is not lost on convenience of the modern age.

as good as it is to see you in person, your blog just says it all

i realized that in recent conversations with friends, old and new, we ironically ended up talking about what we have written or posted online. our topics of conversation kept returning to our electronic representations of ourselves. we have blogs and facebook to make-up for the time that we can't spend in person, and once we are in each other's company, we end up talking about what we're up to online. ponder the implications of that.