… but broken for much longer.

This blog, Off the Mark, is 2 years old today. I shall refrain from calling it an anniversary, as such, since last year we sort of decided that my blogging anniversary ought to be from the start of my 1st public blog, …the thoughts are broken…, which debuted in January 2005. It was “decided” that this is really a continuation of the first and I cannot really disagree, even if I could employ serials cataloging and FRBR terminology to show otherwise.

Here’s what I wrote on my 3rd blogging anniversary back in January of this year.

There appear to have been 157 published posts here in the last year. Forty-seven of those were “Some things read this week …” posts, while there were another 8-10 that commented on that “column.” I posted 2 of the 3 poems that I wrote; “fallen” and “Stargazing.” Wow, what vastly different views of the world!

In the larger scheme of both blogs and my blogging overall, I have 961 posts, 5 in draft, and I’m remembering 3 specific ones that were published and then pulled at some point [not a light decision]. Will I reach a thousand posts by the end of the calendar year, or perhaps my 4th blogging anniversary in January? Who can say? Based on historical statistics I will easily. Based on current output and current thinking I would say no. We’ll see.

Things have been somewhat quiet around here lately and I expect them to stay that way for several reasons for a while, at least. I am doing some serious thinking about and work on my communication styles. I want to change a fair bit about how I say some things. Topics will probably stay much the same, although much of the personal productiveness and questioning of personal narrative will (has) generated some “new” topics for me; i.e., new for the blog.

So, while I really do not want to mark this as an official anniversary I do want to take this moment to note some of this and to say “Thank you” to any who read, comment, and critique. I take feedback here quite seriously. I simply cannot grow without the voice and help of others.

Quick shout-out to LISHost for hosting and support for the past 2 years.

I went back through my posts of the last two months and there isn’t much explicit mention of the best distraction a boy could ask for. I think the first (and one of 2, maybe 3) explicit reference is in the post “Living room talk.” There are certainly several other references that were mostly for her that one or two of you might get a hint from, but not much more.

I also notice I didn’t actually post very often. There were frequently week-long gaps and, I believe, 2 13-day gaps.  Not unheard of for me, but rare.  My previous post addresses this quietude a bit.  Let me just say here that it has not been mostly due to my having a girlfriend.

But wait. I do not have a girfriend.

Today [Friday] would have been our 2-month anniversary. It was to be our full moon anniversary. Sorry, relevant to us, no details for you. On Monday she told me she needs to go back to just being friends.

While this is clearly not my 1st choice of realities—like I or anyone else gets a choice of realities—and it hit pretty hard, I am doing pretty well with this development. [This has been one amazingly interesting and personally productive summer, let me tell you!]

The first day or two I really was just kind of in a state of shock.  I wasn’t doing much active processing of this.  And that, I think, was a very good thing.

Since Monday we’ve been talking and have even seen each other a few times, e.g., watched a free movie at the public library together, shared a bag of popcorn, and had salad together after the movie. Again, not so much on the overt processing.  What I have been doing is listening to a lot of music. But here’s the kicker.  It’s mostly been just a few songs, on repeat, and sometimes repeatedly.

Monday evening and Tuesday both remain kind of hazy in my mind.

Wednesday morning began with Not A Pretty Girl and quickly morphed into multiple replays of “hour follows hour” and “asking too much.”

i just hope it was o.k., i know it wasn’t perfect
i hope in the end we can laugh and say
it was all worth it

…

too much is how i love you
but too well is how i know you
i’ve got nothing to prove this time
just something to show you
i guess i just wanted you to see
that it was all worth it to me

hour follows hour

i want somebody who
sees the pointlessness
and still keeps their purpose in mind
i want somebody who
has a tortured soul some of the time
i want somebody who
will either put out for me
or put me out of my misery
or maybe just put it all to words and make me go
you know, i never heard it put that way
make me go what did you just say!?

asking too much

Wednesday evening I was on my way to Crane Alley and I appropriated Poe’s “Spanish Doll” from Haunted for my own purposes.

This place feels so unfamiliar
And yet I know it well
I think I used to belong here
But the only way I can tell
Is that I miss you still
And I cannot find you here
You left me tattered and torn
Just like that Spanish doll

(Sweet Spanish sweet Spanish… doll)

I went down to the alley way
(Sierra la Bonita)
And found that you were gone …

Except for she wasn’t gone and actually joined me there for a couple hours.

Thursday AM began with “imagine that” from reckoning [of revelling/reckoning]. And pretty much stayed there. Later yesterday [Thursday], while at home, Jude’s “I Know,” from the City of Angels soundtrack was on repeat for almost 2.5 hours.

so here i am at my most hungry
and here i am at my most full
here i am waving a red cape
locking eyes with a bull

just imagine that i am onstage
under a watchtower of punishing light
and in the haze is your face bathed in shadow
and what’s beyond you is hidden from sight

imagine that

I know there’s nowhere you can hide it
I know the feeling of alone
Trust me and don’t keep that on the inside
Soon you’ll be locked out on your own

I Know

Interspersed has been an awful lot of Haley Bonar’s new album, Big Star, which I got in the mail last Saturday. Also prominent would be Jackson Browne’s Late for the Sky album. Since the major clarification [for me] on my communications issues there has been a lot of talk, and more thinking, about personal narratives/mythologies, especially mine, and with this … whatever this is … there has been more about hers, too.  And one cannot get in stick throwing distance of my personal narrative without being smacked over the head by that album.

“Late for the Sky,” “Fountain of Sorrow,” “Farther On,” and “The Late Show” are particularly grounding for me.

Fountain of sorrow, fountain of light
You’ve known that hollow sound of your own steps in flight
You’ve had to struggle, you’ve had to fight
To keep understanding and compassion in sight
You could be laughing at me, you’ve got the right
But you go on smiling so clear and so bright

fountain of sorrow

Now the distance leads me farther on
Though the reasons I once had are gone
I keep thinking I’ll find what I’m looking for
In the sand beneath the dawn

But the angels are older
They can see that the sun’s setting fast
They look over my shoulder
At the vision of paradise contained in the light of the past
And they lay down behind me
To sleep beside the road till the morning has come
Where they know they will find me
With my maps and my faith in the distance
Moving farther on

farther on [this one is undergoing some serious questioning]

I saw you through the laughter and the noise
You were talking with the soldiers and the boys
While they scuffled through your weary smiles
I thought of all the empty miles
And the years that I’ve spent looking for your eyes
(looking for your eyes)
And now I’m sitting here wondering what to say
(that you might recognize)
Afraid that all these words might scare you away
(and break through the disguise)
No one ever talks about their feelings anyway
Without dressing them in dreams and laughter
I guess its just too painful otherwise

the late show

Honestly, I do have to admit that a little of Ani’s Dilate snuck in there early on. But then what righteous babe could possibly resist “Done Wrong”, “Going Down” and “Adam & Eve” in this sort of situation?

you can’t get through it
you can’t get over it
you can’t get around

just like in a dream
you’ll open your mouth to scream
and you won’t make a sound

going down

you put a tiny pin prick
in my big red balloon
and as i slowly start to exhale
that’s when you leave the room
i did not design this game
i did not name the stakes
i just happen to like apples
and i am not afraid of snakes

adam and eve

I have also had several good conversations with my friend (she’s not my ex, she’s my friend), and with two other people which were particularly helpful.  One was Tuesday afternoon, just shy of a day, and one this afternoon [Friday].  One in person, one by (crappy) phone. My friend also had a good idea of some of this music since I also provided it to her and/or pointed her at the lyrics.

So, a mostly ‘just let it wash over me’ attitude and some highly specific music has kept me sane this week. Or, more accurately, allowed me to move from completely lost in the world [’tis far more complicated, but is another story] to almost as sane as I ever am and reasonably happy with the situation.

You have no need to know what the issue between us is. Truth be told, there is no “issue.” In a sense, it is far more fundamental than that. One reason I am currently avoiding it—as it may still get written about—is that it has occupied quite a bit of my time since Monday evening. And it is as complicated as anything between humans can be. I wrote several pages on it for my friend, but that barely qualifies as a 1st draft; lots more thinking since.  Plus, some clarification from her helped narrow & shift things a bit.

What is love? In how many ways do we use it? And with whom? And what do we mean by it when we use it with a particular person, or class or group of persons?

I love my children, I, in fact, love my ex-wife. I love my mom, sister, niece, …. And I love my friends. I don’t mean the 136 people on Facebook who call me “friend,” of course. I care greatly about every one of them as humans, and even somewhat about them as the individual that they are in the world, but I am not going to say that I love them. Although some of them I do. Somewhere in there a line gets drawn. When? Why? Who?

I love my ex-girlfriend. One. She clearly belongs in my closest friends. We were “friends” before this for a year and a half or so and I always wanted to know her better; to become her friend. We both went into this wanting to protect our (budding) friendship. Two. The things she has enabled me to be, to see, to feel, to dream. Three. Classy way in which she has handled herself in this since Monday and has helped guide me through it. Four. ….

For many reasons, we are entering some serious brave new territory.  The utter absurdity of the messages we get from our culture leave us completely unsure of what we are doing. But we both know that we each care greatly for the other, we each  see great things in and for the other, and I know that the vision of possibility I got from her needs to find a way to only make a slight adjustment and allow me to soar and not go “Poof! Welcome to your old life.” [Not going to go into it in this post but the road I saw open so very, very clearly not only looked exceedingly lovely but also showed me [and some reminders] who I really am and how I might really be who I want to be. These are things I cannot see and can barely dream on my own.]

Certainly, there are some […]

[Saturday]

The writing of this post got interrupted yesterday evening by a reminder of the Full Moon Drum Circle at the university’s Japan House. I quickly finished what I was doing and rushed over to grab my friend and head over there.

All I am saying is that this was the best non-anniversary I have ever had. The drumming was nice, the moon was exquisite, we met another friend there, and then we came home and took our friendship to even greater heights.

Thus. I want to sum up and say that I love my ex-girlfriend.

That I love my friend even more.

And I plan to always.

Who do you love?

2 views on the slipperiness of words:

Words are clumsy tools. And it is very easy to cut one’s fingers with them, and they need the closest attention in handling; but they are the only tools we have, and the imagination itself cannot work without them.

(Frankfurter 1947: 546) as quoted in Harris, R., & Hutton, C. (2007). Definition in Theory and Practice: Language, Lexicography and the Law London: Continuum: 135. [as seen in my “Words of Wisdom” text widgety thing on the upper right column on my blog’s main page. Wow, I really need to do some CSS work; I can’t stand that being all caps.]

And/Or:

wish i didn’t have this nervous laugh
wish i didn’t say half the stuff i say
wish i could just learn to cover my tracks
guess i’m not concerned enough
about getting away with it

every time i try to hold my tongue
it slips like a fish from the line
they say if you’re gonna play
you should learn how to play dumb
guess i can’t bring myself to waste your time

…

there must be a light of some kind

ani - light of some kind - Not A Pretty Girl

[light of some kind last used here 3 years ago] Quite interesting some of the issues discussed in that post from just under 3 years ago to those of today. I clearly face many of the same frustrations.

Looking for a light of some kind

So. Words and me lately. Some successes; some phenomenal failures. The failures are failures of presentation, and not failures of intellectual content or intention, but they need to be exposed to a light and I need to figure this out. Thus, my current prayer that “there must be a light of some kind.”

It may be hard to find a light while locked in a gas station bathroom to think, but for now I’m thinking about possible resources ….

the heat is so great
it plays tricks with the eyes
turns the road into water
then from water to sky
there’s a crack in the concrete floor
that starts at the sink
there’s a bathroom in a gas station
and i’ve locked myself in it to think

ani - shy - Not A Pretty Girl

[shy last used here Dec 2006] Still some of those issues being faced, also.

I have decided not to follow up on my Gorman posts, the comments others and I made on them, nor on MG’s presentation. I realize that I said I would but I have changed my mind. Things did not turn out so well and I had to consider myself a failure, on one scale at least.

I have forgiven myself (somewhat) and am trying to put it all in perspective. This has been good for me in that it brought to head something that has been bugging me [about myself] for a while. I am getting some help for the issue, and am open to other ways to think about and act on doing what I need. In that regard, I’m pursuing a few discussions on how others deal with issues of communicating their concerns within the field at large. On that note, my thanks to those who sent me some perspective after writing the failure post.

I intend to continue pursuing the same sorts of arguments, and lines of reasoning, as I have been but I also intend to strive to find a better way of presenting my ideas and critiques. Here in my space I will continue to push the bounds of what passes for “professional discourse” in the larger field, as I feel that there is plenty of ethical justification and even ethical responsibility for doing so.

Towards that end, I hope to soon have a comment policy and a “statement of purpose” which in some manner lay out what it is I am attempting to do: what kind of critique[s] I am making, the purpose[s] of my critique[s], my desire for seeing [and participating in] actual dialog, my express desire to be challenged and called on something when I should be, etc.

On the fine art of not being self-conflagrative

we couldn’t all be cowboys
some of us are clowns
some of us are dancers on the midway
we roam from town to town
i hope that everybody
can find a little flame
and me, i just say my prayers, then i just light myself on fire
and walk out on the wire once again
and i say …

counting crows - goodnight elisabeth - recovering the satellites

This song was once very important to me, primarily this section. Every morning, walking into work, was like lighting myself on fire and stepping out on the wire. Every. Single. Day. During the depths of my deepest struggles to climb out of the depression these words had motive force for me.

In fact, there was a curb out back of my previous library that ran from the street to almost the back door itself. It swept down a small incline from street-side to door-side. Straight ahead [and in line with a pillar and one long edge of the building] it ran until almost the end where it curved rapidly 90 degrees to the left. The surface of the curb was interesting in its own right. It was generally a bit higher than the surrounding sidewalk and several inches higher than the parking lot and drive that it bordered. The surface was not entirely even and even had a slight tilt to the sides at points [both directions], covered in yellow paint it could be slippery faster than the surrounding bare cement, and over time portions [much eventually] got literally torn up and made ragged by all the university service vehicles parking along it, running over it, and tearing it up with the plow in winter. I imagine the elements did a little work on their own over time. [Sadly, now, a few years later the curb is a complete mess and is, as such, highly demoralizing on the rare occasion that I see it any more.]

One day, dangerously depressed, heading into work I was listening to this song when I came upon the curb. “Hmmmm,” I wondered. “While I metaphorically continue to light myself on fire, can I actually walk down this curb?”

I did OK for a first effort. From then on, I walked down (and up) that curb whenever an opportunity presented itself. Winter was frequently not a good (or possible) time for curb-walking, nor were rain and wind, generally. But there were always exceptions. Keep in mind I frequently had a backpack.

I became quite good at “walking out on the wire.” I walked it no matter who was at hand to see me do so. [If this was the oddest thing that they thought about me I was on solid footing. ] It soon became somewhat of a small omen as to how the day was going to go. If I swiftly sashayed down the entire length then the day would be great; if I made it but had to struggle for it then I needed to be “cautious” [in some regard] that day; if I fell [or stepped] off then just hold on because there was soon going to be another time on the wire.

I sometimes walked the curb more than once in a day, and while each time had some “power”, it was the first of the day that had the most impact for the whole day. Rest assured, I made great strides to not let it actually be causal, at least not on the days I fell off. Sometimes an early “falling off” was just the universe’s early warning system letting me know that “today is not a day to be doing this.”

My point, long in coming, is that I need to learn how to walk out on the wire without the self-conflagrat*

Getting back on the wire—repeatedly—is perfectly fine. Missteps are expected. The lighting oneself on fire first has got to go, though.

NOTE: This was mostly written a week or so ago and should have closely followed the “O, most frabjous day” post.

I have been very quiet lately and there are several reasons for this. Despite the distraction of a new girlfriend and, in fact, thanks to much she offered there has been quite a bit of contemplation and reflection going on here. There still is.  I am working on some things but expect a bit more quiet and hopefully something different (soon).

This has been a most productive summer for me, personally, in many ways.

Caresses and punches; or, what big corbicula you have, dear

Originally uploaded by broken thoughts

Bee best viewed at largest size.

Things have sort of “settled down” around here; here being the blog. Related things in my daily life got “interesting” and have only progressed. Today was a most enlightening day. [Yes, Christina, that “interesting” was purposefully vague, and for you.  ]

Wow. What to say, or not say? Been working on this for a while now since …, well, mid-June.  Been doing a lot of thinking and a couple two days ago I started drafting a post, and some drafts of things referenced in the draft post and making a list of “sources.”

Been talking to some folks, in various venues, more face-to-face lately; been trying to talk to a few others, various venues, mostly f-2-f at moment but not entirely [I seriously need to reach out to a couple folks … once I has plan]; I have a new advisor at school; and also someone I am seriously discussing my perceived communication issues, amongst other things, with.

But today brought a whole new level of interestingness. I really am not about to go into much, yet and if at all, but today I listened to the entire Q&A for the Gorman colloquium and it seems my lived experience as perceived at the time [and some odd coincidences at school] led me to perceive my communication issues vastly differently from what they truly are.

After the very pleasant shock of how I sounded in my comments to Michael Gorman—direct, perhaps blunt, but level-headed and with little emotion—I had a few conversations with a couple of amazing women, some of whom I have already been talking with, that really helped put some things in perspective.

After today I have a much better idea of the issues I face—talking them through with wonderful and intelligent people also really helps.

I am not a failure. I also must remember the impossibly high standards that I set for myself before saying such silly things again. I did fail, momentarily [and in highly specific and narrow ways]. I am not a failure. I know so very much. There is always more to learn.

This little non-event has done some serious work for me. I have a much better idea of who I am and what I am committed to. I have fully embraced the knowledge that this commitment may well impact my earning potential. I will always be “that guy.” When what I want is to be this guy and in many more contexts.

I’m going to stay kind of quiet for a while most likely but know that I am working on some things. And, me? Please know that I am as fine as the wonderful little summer storms we had earlier this evening [yes, I adore them] and that I am Stargazing.

Today was a very affirming, most frabjous, day.

the man sat gazing
awed by the vast firmament
night after endless night
terrified, alone
years rolled by

friends came
friends went
his children grew
and the world changed around him
the stars, they were too many

one May evening in the endless procession of months
in an Alley
the man and a friend sat and talked
unknown to the man
something stirred in the heavens
the night sky had changed

a few days later
a single beautiful star spoke to him
“Look at me.
I shine for you.”

for the next couple of nights
the man continued to listen
to his shining star
tentatively at first he began to speak back

as Luna, his lifelong but ever mute companion, approached full
with hope and courage in his heart
the man turned his face fully
to his softly calling Starshine

Primarily written on 18 June 2008 by yours truly. I wanted to write a poem but I’m not too good at poetry. This was a (very) rough 1st draft of the ideas I wanted to convey but I quickly realized that it would take far too long to either clean this up into a poem or even into a “proper” story. So instead I wrote a haiku. And, no, you do not get to see it.

It also should probably go on a bit longer but such is life and the lack of time. [Or, one ought to work for their pay.] Then again, it ends with the event that it celebrates.

After seeing several posts about Wordle I finally decided to play. The easiest thing for me to play with were my del.icio.us tags. Even these are not entirely representative or, I should say, not accurately representative.

Based on previous (faulty) workflow, it is the case that there are hundreds of posts in Bloglines that I commented on that never made it to del.icio.us, along with hundreds of posts that I didn’t comment on but still wanted/intended to bookmark. Unfortunately, it is not as simple as going back in and doing so as there were about 5000 items marked keep alive when I finally abandoned Bloglines.

So. My “comment” tag should be much larger, and if everything that I meant to tag was then several tags would grow, others would shrink, and some would appear. Hard to say which ones at this point though.

The first image is based on all tags and contains what Wordle considers “common words.” The second has removed the “common words.” Considering “comment” is considered a common word that is unacceptable to me. I have almost 600 items tagged with “comment” in del.icio.us and, as I said, it ought to be way more.

Mark’s del.icio.us tags with common words

Originally uploaded by broken thoughts

Mark’s del.icio.us tags without common words

Originally uploaded by broken thoughts

Hopefully the “comment” tag gives some idea of the lengths I go to to have discussions on blogs, to the limit possible by the medium, anyway. Also, it may provide some hint as to why I did not play along with the 30-day comment challenge. While I do believe that it is good to step back and question why and how you do something, I thought 30 days of such was a bit of overkill.  And based on some of the things I saw Greg, Meredith and others addressing I was right.

After playing with Wordle a bit I realized I could dump the text of some of my papers in it. The first several times I just got Java errors but it eventually worked.

The first one is from my paper for LIS590TR, “Mapping Thesauri for Interdisciplinary Work,” minus the bibliography.

Mapping Thesauri for Interdisciplinary Work

Originally uploaded by broken thoughts

I really like how “vocabulary” sits at the far left, sort of as a top term.

The next two are from my bibliography, “The Epilogue that Started It All; or, Integrating LIS (Harris and Hjørland).” I included 2 to demonstrate that Wordle seems to be treating capitalized and uncapitalized occurrences of the same word as different words, e.g. look for “Information” and “information” symmetrically opposed to each other near the right side, running vertically.

The Epilogue that Started It All

Originally uploaded by broken thoughts

Compare to this picture where all words are lowercase:

The Epilogue that Started It All

Originally uploaded by broken thoughts

Unless I’m blind, “information” does not exist twice in this one. I ran this test multiple times with different fonts and layouts and could not find any duplicates when I used all the same case. Doesn’t seem the algorithm is too bright in this respect.

I am aware that in some cases words which appear in a text as capitalized and as uncapitalized “versions” are, in fact, two (or more) different words, but more frequently they will be the same. Oh well. Can’t complain since it’s free. Actually, I’m not really complaining anyway but I would like to see one with the proper nouns capitalized and all other words in their lowercase instatiations but taking into account all occurrences.

This post has gone on far too long and took way too much time to construct, but it did force me to relearn image inclusion in WordPress. Go. Play. Wordle.

Drinking with the Troops

From a local blog, Urbanagora, comes “Drinks with a Soldier.” I just love how some jackass commentor tries to hide behind the shield of anonymity and call the post author a liar. Certainly there are all sorts of views on this war, including those of the troops fighting it.

Perhaps if you ever get the chance—you could try arranging the chance—you, too, should have drinks with a soldier (or sailor, airman or marine) and find out a bit about what it is like on the ground in this war.  Of course, don’t forget the millions of servicemembers still living who served in our previous wars. A patient, caring ear would do many of them a world of good.

The value of a liberal arts education

For an interesting discussion on the value, or lack thereof, of a liberal arts education and liberal arts colleges see “On Liberal Education” at the Academic Librarian blog. Wayne Bivens-Tatum critiques the views of the author of a new book on the subject, as presented in The Kansas CW.

A spirited back-and-forth between Bivens-Tatum and the book author follows in the comments. I should state up front that I agree entirely with all of Bivens-Tatum’s points and his larger argument. The book author tries to point out some flaws in Bivens-Tatum’s arguments which simply are not there. I found that rather humorous.

But the one point I was hoping Bivens-Tatum would take up was the author’s insistence that some immediately practical subjects should get substituted for liberal arts classes because students are incurring too much debt, can’t pay their student loans, have to take high paying jobs vs. the job of their dreams, have to move back home with mommy & daddy, etc. because colleges are financially predatory.

So the solution is immediately practical vocational training? Wouldn’t better financial counseling for students, laws barring credit card companies from preying on students, educational finance reform, and so many other things be helpful, too, and perhaps even more ethically important? Have a look and see what you think.

Early Mike Wallace interviews with “important people”

Via Resource Shelf comes The Mike Wallace Interview.

In the early 1960’s, broadcast journalist Mike Wallace donated 65 recorded interviews made in 1957-58 from his show The Mike Wallace Interview to the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas. The bulk of these were 16mm kinescope film recordings, some of the earliest recordings of live television that were possible, and that survive today. Many of these have not been seen for over 50 years, and they represent a unique window into a turbulent time of American, and world history.

See interviews with jockey Eddie Arcaro, stripper Lili St. Cyr, actress Gloria Swanson, Steve Allen, Frank Lloyd Wright, birth control pioneer Margaret Sanger, Eleanor Roosevelt, novelist Pearl Buck, and many others.

Doing the dirty fictionally

Via 3 quarks daily we get a book review in the New York magazine of Robert Olen Butler’s Intercourse: Stories. Find it in a library near you via WorldCat.

Robert Olen Butler’s new story collection, Intercourse, is, as its title suggests, totally about doing it. It imagines the thoughts of 50 iconic couples as they knock the proverbial boots, beginning with Adam and Eve copulating on “a patch of earth cleared of thorns and thistles, a little east of Eden,” and ending with Santa Claus blowing off postholiday steam in January 2008 by doing the nasty with an 826-year-old elf in the back room of his workshop. But, as the clinical tone of Butler’s title also suggests, Intercourse is very much not a work of erotica. It tends to ignore messy fluids and crotch-logistics in favor of wordplay and psychological nuance.

Civilization and cultures

Also via 3 quarks daily we get Tzvetan Todorov in the Pakistan Daily Times thinking and writing to his usual standard of quality.

But if you look at this line of argument more closely, the flaw in Barnavi’s argument is immediately apparent. The meaning of the words civilisation and culture is very different when they are used in singular and plural forms. Cultures (plural) are the modes of living embraced by various human groups, and comprise all that their members have in common: language, religion, family structures, diet, dress, and so on. In this sense, “culture” is a descriptive category, without any value judgement.

Civilisation (singular) is, on the contrary, an evaluative moral category: the opposite of barbarism. So a dialogue between cultures is not only beneficial, but essential to civilisation. No civilisation is possible without it.

[There, S, I did it. And no, neither linking to the Academic Librarian nor WorldCat invalidates my effort. ]

Back in mid-January 2007 I started a “feature” entitled “Some things read this week, …”. I have, for a long time now, been unhappy with it. I have rarely addressed the important things in the depth which they deserved and to which I would like. The date data is generally recorded in at least one other place, if not more, for all items listed in those posts, but they did serve a sort of chronological collation function for me, though, which was in a sense more easily useful for my own purposes.

Another issue which has recently arisen for me is that I have been reading a few books on a topic vastly different than what was normal for me. But our circumstances can change our reading preferences as I would hope most anyone would admit. The issue is that I, after discussion with a trusted confidante, do not feel comfortable listing and discussing them here. Actually, I feel perfectly comfortable listing and discussing them with many people.

The problem is librarians as a group. As a group, librarians are uncomfortable with this topic, as they are with many topics. Now these are books that I walked over to my local library, Champaign Public, and checked out. I was planning on putting a big (Self-)Censored heading in my post for this upcoming week before discussing the issue much as I am now.

But, based on my unhappiness with the “feature” anyway, and adding in that I am now painfully self-censoring myself, I see little need to continue it.

Rest assured that I will continue to blog about some of the things I read. But not having to worry about trying to say something about everything and feeling bad when I don’t—which was frequent—I can now concentrate on saying something of potential use to others and myself. I imagine something along the lines of The Gypsy Librarian’s Article Notes and Book Notes features.

I honestly do not imagine anyone will miss the weekly list, except perhaps me, and I will certainly not miss the work involved in writing and constructing the blog posts.

I have come to realize that I am a failure at the professional role that I have been trying to adopt for the last several years.  It is one which, in many ways, I am perfectly suited for.  For instance, I can shoot holes in most any argument presented by most anyone, preferably with the intention of helping the argument be strengthened.  I’m also pretty good at adding nuance to arguments and discussion, or at least insisting that others do so.  Unfortunately, in other ways, I am ill-suited for it.  Sadly, the ways in which I am failing are much, much harder to change than others.  I cannot simply acquire more education to fix this.  I need to change a fundamental way in which I present myself.

I am a very passionate person, about a great many things.  Professionally, my greatest passions run to our bibliographic structures, past, current, and future.  It is why I spent another 40+ hours on my education post-Masters.  A job doing something with these structures, traditional or otherwise, is what I desire.

Unfortunately, my passion, especially in its extemporaneous, face-to-face version mostly seems to come out as anger, at least to others.  I do not fully understand why that is, but it is old and deeply ingrained.  It is also somewhat connected to my coming back to life from the intensely deep chronic depression I was in when I retired from the Army.

I would give anything to change this and have desired to and have worked on it for the last several years.  It is certainly a professional handicap, particularly for the role I want to play.

Was my behavior yesterday—my comments to Michael Gorman—disrespectful and/or unprofessional?  Only you can decide.  My intended behavior was not, in my opinion.  You may well disagree.  What about my manifested behavior?  Well, I won’t say I’m proud of it.  But neither was it what I intended.

I do stand by everything that I’ve written or said on the subject, though.  Some of it I wish was expressed better, especially what I said in room 126.  But then that is the issue.

Another place where I am failing is in much of my blogging.  I frequently take a comment by someone and in my reply broaden it so greatly—kind of like riffing on it—that I am no longer addressing the comment author.  I may, in fact, specifically not be addressing the commenter.  But.  That is a dangerous thing to do because I am often unclear that that is what I am doing and, thus, some folks take my replies personally when they really shouldn’t.  Or they simply don’t believe my intentions.  Now in external appearances they are fully justified in doing so.  I cannot deny that.  Thus, I am a failure at that, too.

Another area in which I often fail is distinguishing at what level, if you will, I am talking.  I also make frequent shifts between “levels”—theory vs. practice, cultural reality vs. how I believe the world (or some portion of it) ought to, and could, be, and so on.  This one plays out frequently in my exchanges with my dear friend, Jenny.  Jenny frequently argues from the cultural reality or, at least, cultural perception perspective.  This is something she is imminently more qualified for than me and I greatly appreciate her doing so.  It reminds me of how the world really is, or seems to be, for many others, sometimes even for myself.  I, on the other hand, am often arguing for how I think the world ought to, and could perhaps, be.  Our discussion of whether or not Michael Gorman is qualified to address the topics on which he spoke is a perfect example.

Jenny’s argument (greatly simplified) is that having been ALA President does, in fact, in our cultural context of librarianship qualify anyone to address the future of libraries and other topics.  This is true. But my argument is from another angle.  I prefer a world in which real qualifications are required for something this important.  I am not saying he is completely unqualified.  That would be completely asinine.  He is highly qualified to address much of what he did, and much of it he did so eloquently.

But much of it he is not.  The fact that he was ALA President is completely irrelevant to whether he is qualified to speak about Dublin Core or metadata in general.  And the fact that he willfully and belligerently holds to a view of DC and metadata that is so overly simplistic is one prime reason why he is unqualified, in my opinion.  He is an extremely intelligent person who could easily choose to upgrade his knowledge if he chose to.  But his willful disregard for the state of portions of our field is a political move.  In fact, it is a move which plays well with many in our profession and serves a purpose.  The purpose is even one which I greatly support.  But there are far better and more honest ways to do so.

But I have a hard time expressing these things so that people will listen, especially the people I am trying to critique.  And no one, including myself, is above critique.

So.  There it is.  I am a failure.  I am, currently anyway, constitutionally incapable of playing the professional role that is most important to me.  I have no idea what I am going to do about this.  I truly don’t.  And that fact scares me.

Over time I have had many, in various ways, tell me that they appreciate what I do and that the profession needs people like me.  I cannot agree more.  But it needs people who do what I do who can do so more eloquently and either with much less passion or, at least, with that passion much better expressed.

Even if librarians and the profession don’t deserve it, those for whom we do what we do do deserve better.  Better than I seem capable of.

To anyone affiliated with GSLIS who is embarrassed or offended by my behavior—here, in person, or elsewhere—I truly and sincerely apologize. Offense is not my intention, but I do think what I am attempting to do is critically important to our profession. I just wish I could do it better, now.

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