Savvy Women

It’s hard to believe that it’s taken me this long to get around to blogging about journaling, especially given the fact that I’M A TEACHER OF WRITING AND HAVE MY STUDENTS WRITE IN JOURNALS IN ALL MY CLASSES.

I’ve included a cute video to go along with this little piece. It shows Ella Morton, of Rocketboom and this blog, extolling the benefits of scribbling in a notebook on a daily (or near-daily) basis. I just about freaked out, though, when she opened one of her honest-to-goodness journals and showed her handwriting which she describes as “fastidiously neat,” an understatement if ever there was one. To be entirely honest with you, what I saw there, on those pages, is nearly indistinguishable from Times New Roman typeface (size 12). Have a look for yourself if you think I’m exaggerating.

I like the idea of “morning pages” and what she says about journaling and traveling, how the two go hand in hand. But when she claims that traveling makes a person “write better,” I scratched my head and then looked up at the ceiling. I need to think about that one for a bit.

I’d like to suggest that those who take up journaling try something we teachers of writing call “free writing.” Basically, that’s writing at top speed—stream-of-consciousness style—without worrying about structure or spelling or correctness of any sort. The point is to move quickly before that little voice inside a person’s head—that self-critical one—has an opportunity to insert itself into the writer’s awareness, shutting down the creative flow in the process. Free writing is a way of opening the writer up to recording thoughts and experiences in real time. Surprising discoveries can be made during such speedy composing.

Like I said before, I have my students write in journals in my classes, and what I discover at the end of every term is quite interesting: Many students—even those who are not that into writing or keeping a journal at the start of the term—report that they have had a change of heart. They tell me that they found journaling to be enjoyable (and liberating and educational and edifying and so on) and plan to continue scribbling away even after the semester has ended.

Hearing that always warms my heart and makes me smile from ear to ear.

I’m back in America and that can only mean one thing–it’s time for my backside to become reacquainted with the nearest comfy chair and then for me to watch a little TV.

Each summer, when I’m back in the States, I like to take note of the viewing habits of my fellow citizens. When I first arrived a little more than three weeks ago, the whole Casey Anthony trial was big. My mother was one of those who knew the case backwards, forwards, and sideways because she watched the coverage religiously. As it so happens, on the day and at the hour the verdict was announced, I was lunching at an all-you-can-eat buffet where Chinese food is served. They had CNN on big screens with the sound muted and captions running along the bottom. Suddenly, everyone stopped mid-bite, forks and chopsticks suspended in space, and then it was announced: CASEY ANTHONY NOT GUILTY OF MURDER. All around me I could sense that there was a collective gnashing of teeth and not just because people were chowing down either.

Of course, “reality shows” are big in America and have been for years. This year, though, I’ve noted an apparent interest in something called “hoarding.” The shows that feature hoarders examine specific case studies. Of course, I’d always known about messy people, about those who allowed all manner of garbage and whatnot to gather in their homes, but I’d never really put such behavior together in my mind with “hoarding,” a troubling psychological affliction that requires immediate professional intervention. Anyway, here’s Rocketboom’s Molly’s take on hoarding.

She raises some interesting (and perhaps troubling) questions: Where does one draw the line between hoarding and collecting? What is the difference between someone who collects and someone who hoards? Is my grandmother’s collection of ceramic chickens damning evidence that she has a deep psychological condition that needs treatment? Would she be considered a genuine hoarder if she simply took her chickens off their display shelves and threw them on the floor of her living room? Is messiness the deciding factor? And how big of a collection is too big?

Now that I think about it, I’m troubled by the fact that I’m troubled about hoarding. Maybe I’m not taking the condition seriously enough? Perhaps I’m really in denial about hoarding and don’t even know it? Is it possible that I have a complex when it comes to this topic? Perhaps I should seek the advice of a trained professional to help me answer these questions?

I enjoyed writing about Elizabeth Lesser so much last time that I decided to blog another one of her videos this week.

Her talk reminded me of my own experience. Every summer, when I travel home to Texas from abroad, I always spend time with my next door neighbor, a fellow I’ll call “Jim.”

Jim and I are totally different in just about every way you can imagine. He’s spent his life doing very physical work in the great outdoors, and I have earned my living inside, in classrooms, where I use my brain more than my muscles. He joined the military and loves guns and cars and such things. I, on the other hand, enlisted in the Peace Corps and am a pacifist who has happily lived without an automobile for the past seven years now. As you might guess, we are polar opposites when it comes to most political subjects.

Still, every summer, I spend time with Jim, often “shooting the breeze” while we sit on his front porch. For a little variety, we occasionally load up in his Plymouth and drive to a Tex-Mex restaurant for an evening meal of enchiladas and frijoles.

As a result of these experiences, I have learned this lesson about Jim: He’s a really good person. Yes, we may not see eye to eye on all subjects, but that doesn’t mean Jim doesn’t have a whole host of very nice qualities. Of course, I wouldn’t have known these things about my neighbor had I not made the effort to spend time with him. If I had simply judged him, from afar, it’s quite likely that I would have come to any number of erroneous conclusions about him.

I’d like to add one suggestion to Lesser’s list of guidelines to follow when taking “the Other” to lunch. When you’re with that person, look for common ground—it could be something as simple as an activity you both enjoy doing—and build on it. In my case, Jim and I both grew up in Big Spring, Texas, and we’ve found, over the years, that it’s possible for us to spend hours and hours talking about our fondest recollections of the place. This sense of shared history has brought us much closer together than we otherwise would have been.

I agree with Lesser. These are dangerous times we live in. There is way too much “otherizing” going on right now. If we’re not careful, bigotry can become all-consuming and then we’ll find ourselves in a dark place, one hard to escape from.