Communicated Voids

The many plates of responsibility and desire spin on teeters edges as people watch in awe waiting for either the greatest success or such a horrific crash that historians will instantly edit it into their textbooks. With all that in mind, allow me to give you a basic status update.

Multiple projects are happening at once.
First and foremost I am still chugging along through the Iliad and a few books containing critical analyses of Homer's work. Within the next week or two I would like to discuss themes, symbols and what the text means to us today. Granted, the most I can do is reiterate what has been said. The possibility always exists that one can stumble onto something new by communicating with that which is old. A quick note on the translation I have, I picked up the Robert Fagles translation which has an introduction by Bernard Knox who wrote The Oldest Dead White European Males. The title reminded me of my intense hatred for Dead White Males, who though they are gone, still have a great hold on my life. Immortality through words? Quite possibly. I feel like they would be the gods of Homer's universe who thrive on human interaction. What impact would Milton have if we all just ignored him? But! Like a stray he is on our door step begging for attention. How can we ignore the markings of minds already laid to rest? And aren't we all just subjected to fate?
My nephew graduated from kindergarten on Thursday (May 22). I got hired out to help preparing him for first grade. I didn't realize how hard it is to explain what I consider basic concepts. I once heard of the mathematician who could do amazing work with higher math but had no skills with the basics. He existed far outside the bounds of basics. So do we! Words make sense, sentence structures are no issues, and multiplication is a snap. Yet for the young mind still forming it is all new information, particularly if he hasn't had too much prior home training. Just have to keep working for now.
I secured a 1961 IBM correcting selectric II from an old driving clinic in my home area. Of course the first thing I did was break the ribbon which suddenly made me wonder how I was supposed to acquire a new one. The archaic qualities of the type writer attract me to its less than conventional and efficient draw backs. Surprisingly, wikipedia contained some great information on the machine: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IBM_Selectric_typewriter For what little bit I got to use the machine I loved it. The typewriter stands as the Indiana Jones of writing devices. If you make a mistake you can forget fixing it (granted this one has the capability but it's a bit tricky). Only one shot! Writing suddenly becomes epic as sweat like bullets drop from your brow.
Currently doing a bit of traveling to weed out the wanderlust. Oh to be young!


Tiger Jali Rebirth

I set this blog up a few weeks back, and the universe gave me every imaginable excuse under the sun not to write in it! With today being my birthday, I decided to finally begin the journey, set sail, and pull up the anchor. Any cliché under the sun to get my meaning across. So, why not start with an analysis on this birthday matter?

The clock on my cellphone rolls over to midnight calling forth the waves of messages screaming "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" without any rhyme or reason. The texts rolled in for a good twenty minutes as well-wishers and friends gave me virtual pats on the back. Lucky for me, I added an unlimited text plan and responded to anyone who sent me a message. I find it a pleasure to respond rather than just snatch the goods and run off like a grubby thief, dropping tasty-looking pastries all along the way. With the advent of Facebook a new form of birthday messaging arrived in the form of "wall invasions". I never invested in facebook until a few months ago, the "wall invasion" is an entirely new concept for me. My wall can barely contain the mass of messages posted on there. While staying up receiving messages and calls, I perused through a few of the books I recently picked up with my newfound- though utterly temporary- wealth. The text messages, of course, marked the official beginning of the event; however, the day before and the day after tend to also be free territory for people that are normal mere acquaintances to be nice to you. In my case, I have very people who I associate with that I don't know fairly well. My Kungfu instructor, better known as a Sifu, took me out with his wife Jana to a small Thai restaurant that I used to frequent before running off to college land.
As a small digression, I hadn't eaten Thai in a month or so. The funny thing about being out of practice with certain food is that you absolutely should not eat at the same level you did before you stopped. I ate the hottest dish I could get my hands on. Waiting for the text messages thus became a great distraction while I cursed my poor luck.
Morning came through my window extra early today. I woke up and wandering around the house (old men like myself do that you know.) With it being my birthday, I drove to Bob Evans for an awesome breakfast. A solo breakfast, granted, but I really like to sit down and eat my pineapple with a bit of strawberry yogurt. Unbeknownst to me, my mother frequents the restaurant. Another observation, if there is a way to get a whole staff to sing for you, the solid friend will always make it happen. The waiter, Glenn, hung out at my booth while I was still by myself. I tend to make the meal a shared experience for anyone in the near vicinity. This especially comes out when I dine alone. Well my mother left for a doctor's appointment as a mass of troops did a pincer attack on my humble booth. A loud chorus rang out causing other bleary eyed customers, with disdain in their eyes, to look at my laughing face. The random singing speaks volumes to my soul. I jumped over the table and gave each choir member a hug and a high five. They swung back around with an ice cream dessert. My bank, i.e. the Bakhtin Jali food-to-mouth collection, will always take ice cream regardless of the hour. In fact, it happens to be common currency in my philosophy. Even if it weren't another known birthday rule becomes evident in this situation: the giving of food that will more than likely kill you with utter sweetness. You as the recipient cannot refuse this offering, and if you happen to do such, expect terrible things to happen!! In return, I left a very happy over punctuated slip of paper to show my gratitude. To reinforce the thankfulness I drew happy stick figures passing around high fives. This is not a part of the ritual, but I do it anyway.
I still had work that needed to be done! Books, after my encounter with an introduction to lit. studies, call my interests with such an intensity that I will from time to time walk around with a book in front of my face.
Families have the greatest say so on all matters birthday when you are young. The members of the clan will most likely be your number one source of the truly solid gift. We have all had terribly tacky gifts in the past. I hazard to guess that as a child you may recall something very special coming from a parent figure. Yet, I exist in a strange limbo between childhood birthday parties and the adult casual get together. The majority of people in the "Vague Birthday Celebration Syndrome" (VBCS) experience it on their college campus. The campus provides a prime location for birthday parties and small gift giving from a host of friends. VBCS displays its strongest effects outside of the buffer. For all of this, I did not become another statistic! My family felt kind enough to put together some very well thought out gifts that I could use. I received huge amounts of books to dig into. The highlight of course was a gift certificate to a sushi restaurant that I normally frequent (will discuss that in another meeting).
The day has been profitable to an extreme; I am going to post a second bit about it tomorrow after a pool hall event that I am going to with as many friends as I can gather tonight!

-Don't worry soon enough we will be hitting all of the literary goodness. Understand literature, language, and life are all intricately tired together.