300…Words

Part of my job this summer has been to write very concise pieces of text about major world events, such as the Cold War, the Renaissance, and the 14th century plague.

The average word limit for the job? 300 words. Let’s try that again.

Part of my My job this summer has been to write very concise pieces of text about major world events, such as the Renaissance and the 14th century plague. (Revised for wordiness.)

Imagine my surprise and “delight” to discover that one of the PhD programs to which I’m applying has the exact same word limit for the personal statement. No good skill goes un-recycled, as the saying goes [awry].

One would think that summarizing my [history, educational background, relevant life experiences, aspirations, applicable skill sets, research plan, and compatibility with the given program, or for lack of a better word, life] into 300 words would be much simpler than doing the same thing with the Enlightenment.

Funny. It’s not.

So…

Dear Strunk and White, despite your periodic absences from the zeitgeist of writing centers and rhetorical studies programs, I could really use some advice. Or a new red pen. Or the ability to write in Chinese characters.

I mean really–is that too much to ask?

I didn’t think so.

Proverbial Wisdom (2)

Proverb

One cannot accurately judge the damage caused by an action until one is on the other side of a hot shower and a full night’s sleep.

Example

If a person were playing Frisbee and decided to slide on one knee across a patch of dried grass, the damage might seem minor. The burning sensation could be ignored in order to continue playing the game. The reddish color might seem insignificant at dusk. The subsequent judgment might be: it’s no big deal. Keep running and, hypothetically, diving on the same leg.

Consequences

The first rush of water in the shower is one clue: this might have been a bad idea. By 1 a.m., the bed covers feel like a cross between a brillo pad and a wax treatment. Two days later, the person in question realizes maybe she undervalued that skin just a little…

Lesson learned, proverb. Lesson learned.

Listening (to snakes?)

On this beautiful late summer afternoon, I decided to take a hike around a local lake. It’s about a 7 mile walk, but the trail is shady and smooth, with a few gentle hills and lots of families walking, biking, or running on it.

I was reminded, along the way, how peaceful it can be just to listen.

After approximately a mile of walking, I stopped to sit on the rocks beside a small creek flowing into the lake. As soon as I sat down, a woman approached with two dogs (both off the leash, both with the variegated-cardboard look that half-dry hair tends to produce). One was a lanky black and white mix; the other was a shorter, stubbier brown and black. Sort of a “Bert and Ernie” of dogs.

They immediately splashed into the creek in front of me. All I said was, “Looks like they’ve enjoyed a swim.”

That phrase initiated a 20-minute conversation that covered the entire gamut:

–the draining of the lake

–therapy dogs (her smaller dog is registered and works mainly with Alzheimer’s patients)

–the AKC’s recent decision to permit mixed breeds to compete in obedience trials…

–which enabled her dog, now highly successful, to compete after two years of being ready but unqualified

–the judge whose Australian Shepherd her dog beat in his own breed show

–the term “sharp pencil” judges

–the animal therapy test and reasons why dogs fail it

–her dog’s knee surgery for a roving kneecap

–animal insurance policies.

During the conversation, I asked maybe 3-4 questions and made some affirmative noises. She seemed eager to talk, to show pictures of her dogs, the show facilities where she had competed, and the ribbons they had won. In the meantime, her dogs ambled around us, sniffed, shook water on both of us, and let me scratch their ears.

Then we all moved on.

About mile 4, I had a somewhat shorter conversation with a small snake named Hermann Benvolio. He agreed to keep his older siblings out of the path, and I agreed to stay out of his way while he crossed the trail. We parted friends, in mutual sadness for the animosity between our kin.

It was lovely.

Tremor Tuesday

Just felt this.



I’m already imagining the local news headlines…*

  • Krankies’ Chill Atmosphere Unshaken by Earthquake
  • Traffic Reporters Hopeful, But Gain No New Stories from Quake
  • Social Media Surge Causes Its Own Earthquake for Time Warner Cable
  • Harold Camping Announces Imminent Relocation to Richmond Area

In all seriousness, I’m gratefully checking “experience an earthquake” off my bucket list, and I hope injuries/damages in other parts of the east coast were not too severe.

*Except that there would probably be more typos and grammatical errors.

The Rest is Silence

One of the pitfalls of working from home is the challenge of resting. I’m not talking about unexpected fall-asleep-at-the-table-and-drool-on-your-laptop resting (not that I’ve ever done that) — I’m talking about intentional, waking rest.

Although I did cheat and do some work this morning, I spent an entire afternoon resting. I read a book (Her Fearful Symmetry), wandered around the house, browsed a used book store with friends, played Frisbee, and then ate frozen yogurt and read some more. It has been delightful.

It’s also been really tempting to take just a few minutes to knock out some editing or plan tomorrow’s schedule. So far, I’m holding out.

Having a job that permits me to work from multiple locations and to set my own schedule is an enormous blessing. The challenge is to turn off the blinking screen, close the computer (or at least the document), and take time to rest in the silence.

Silence.

What a novel concept.

I think I like it.

Thursdays

Cryptic story of my life in ten words or less:

So many dates, and yet so few.

Otherwise known as, fact checking. Forever. And then some.

Shall We Salsa?

Jen: Eyes, why do you hate me so much?

Jen’s eyes: Maybe because you made super-spicy salsa and then touched us?

Jen: Ah. Yes. I can see your point.

Jen’s eyes: How ironic. We no longer can.



Jen: Thumb, why do you hate me so much?

Jen’s thumb: Maybe because you cut me with a knife while de-seeding a jalapeno pepper.

Jen: Ah. Yes. I feel you.

Jen’s thumb: How ironic. I no longer can.



But it’s so delicious.


Impending Epistles

Two days ago, I did a very strange thing. I started writing a personal statement for my PhD applications. It was incredible how quickly the sense of panic began creeping over my fingers, not unlike the cricket that skittered over my foot later that night.

I can’t help wondering if the cricket was a personification (cricketification?) of my application-related anxiety…In that case, I should be set for the year, as said anxiety is now irretrievably d-e-a-d.

After taking an hour to write a few paragraphs, I was left with the impression that something was still missing. I pondered the question for a while before realizing that no graduate application can begin without a dedicatory epistle.

Aha!

TO THE MOST NOBLE
A N D
INCOMPARABLE COMMITTEE
OF GRADUATE ADMISSIONS

WHOSOEVER
Professor of English,&c. Unwilling Protector to the
University’s most Pressing Budgetary Concerns.

A N D

ANONYMOUS
Professor of English,&c. Dedicated Defender of the Arts’
Both Guardians of the most Noble Order
of the MLA, and our singular good
S P O N S O R S

Right Honourable,

Whilst I studie to be thankful in my particular, for the many favors I hope to receive, I am falne upon the ill fortune, to mingle two the most diverse things that can bee, feare, and rashnesse; rashnesse in the enterprize, and feare of the successe. For, when I valew the place you sustaine, I cannot but know your dignity greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles: and, while I name them trifles, I have depriv’d my selfe of the defence of my Dedication. But since you may bee pleas’d to thinke these trifles some-thing, heeretofore; and have unsealed them: I hope, that you will use the like indulgence toward the Statement of Purpose, as you have done unto the applicants before. There is a great difference, whether any Graduate Student choose her University, or finde it: This hath done both. For, if it please you, the severall parts of the Writing Sample, although not published, are yours. I have but applied, without ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow alive, as was our M A S T E R S P R O G R A M , by humble offer of continuance, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as I have justly observed, no woman to come neere you but with a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin the height of my care, who am the Presenter, to make the present worthy of you by the perfect proofe-reading. But, there I must also crave my abilities to be considerd. I cannot go beyond my owne powers. And the most, though meanest, of comma errors are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Applications. In that name therefore, I most humbly consecrate to you these remaines of your servant’s Writing Sample; that what delight is in it, may be ever the reputation yours, & the faults mine, if any be committed, by one so carefull to shew her gratitude, as is

Your Committeeshippes most bounden,

JEN

Now that’s more like it. Let the Personal Statement writing commence…next month.

Movin’ Movin’ Movin’

Contrary to popular opinion, moving is just great. It comes with its own set of fabulous side effects. For example…

  • Moving gives you an indefinite pass on tripping-related humor.
  • The impulse to talk aloud to yourself in a British accent while unpacking increases tenfold after midnight.
  • When you begin giving yourself “real person points” for things like unpacking the dish rack and setting up the coffee maker, still in the British accent, it’s time to go to bed.

See what you’re missing?