A girl and her cat take on the world with nothing more than a cup of tea and a good book and enough dreams to fill the universe.
Science is awesome. I really really love science. There is nothing I love more than going outside and playing around in the dirt because I know I’m going to find giant jawbones and tiny snake ribs. I like that other scientists are coming up with new and improved technology that continually changes the way we live our lives. It is extraordinary. Science is limitless. All that being said, scientists cannot write to save their own life. I have read several scientific articles and have had to write a few scientific papers and I will say that it is enormously painful. It’s exhausting and at the end, you have to go back and reread the whole thing because you tuned out by sentence two. I tune out when I write the papers. It dreadful. Dull. While science has an infinite number of possibilities and the capacity for advancement, I feel it is limited by the scientists ability to write. They separate themselves from the rest of the world and make whatever they’re doing inaccessible through highly technical writing. Perhaps there is a place for technical writing and I am being too harsh. There must be at least five people in the world with multiple PhDs that enjoy reading forty page articles of condensed heavy information. Style and description have been removed. Completely cut out. Destroyed. Squashed. Taken out back and shot. Personally, I don’t even think scientists can enjoy this kind of writing. I don’t think its in us as human to completely shut down our imaginative side. Writing and reading is personal. Science takes this away. I think more people would enjoy science and want to go into the sciences if they could write the way the wanted to write and read without possible heart failure due to boredom. Just saying. It’s a pet peeve.
Let’s stop being archaic and try being creative and scientific. It’ll work. I promise.
I am halfway done with the book Borderlands/La Frontera by Gloria Andaluza. It’s not what I thought it was going to be, but in a good way. It’s heavy writing, but only because there are so many different levels of meaning and context that you must sort through. I am actually enjoying it immensely. Half the book is a series of scenes, essays, and arguments for the mestiza, these borderland peoples who are not Mexican and are not Anglos, but are stuck in the middle, creating their own culture and race. It’s amazing. The second half of the book is poetry. The only problem I am having so far is that I do not speak Spanish really well and with my French skills I can sort of pick apart the Spanish, but I know that I am not understanding all of it. She has these immense paragraphs in Spanish every few pages and I am too lazy to take the time to googletranslate them. I think it only speaks to the style of the book and the dilemma of the people of the mestiza that she does this and people such as myself struggle with it. It’s letting us in on her struggle and it’s delightful in a hard way.
Where do the mestiza begin?
Yesterday, it was snowing and so I was curled up on my bed under some blankets. Joplin was tucked up next tome and I was hovering so half my body is on my bed and half of it is hanging out in mid-air over my heater which is attached to the wall. I was contentedly reading my book when I suddenly came unstuck from my little spot and slid down so that I was sandwiched between the wall and my bed, knocking the heater loose from the wall and startling Joplin. I couldn’t get the heater to get back into it’s little holes after I had painstakingly crawled back up on top of the bed. The dry wall is completely broken away in that spot. This wouldn’t really be that urgent of a problem if I wasn’t moving out of my apartment at the end of this month. So, like the helpless female that I am, I called my dad and he’s going to fix it this weekend. Crisis averted and thank goodness for Dads.
I keep waiting for this one to happen too, but it hasn’t yet. So I’d say with only knocking the heater off the wall, I’m doing pretty well.
Life is good. I only have five more days on the overnight shift, but I have a ridiculous amount of homework, so I will leave it all at that.
You all know the feeling.
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No One Here But a Writer Who Gets Up and Try
Brian Marggraf, Author of Dream Brother: A Novel, Independent publishing advocate, New York City dweller
Psychological, thriller, mystery, secrets, betrayal, adoption, romance, poetry, art
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Stefan Falke photographs artists who live and work along the 2000 miles long U.S.- Mexico border to document the vibrant culture of the region on both sides. All photos © Stefan Falke (use with written permission by the author only)