learning to be human, since 1984
Archive for September, 2008
How to Write: The Importance of Editing
0I’ve been writing a lot more than usual lately. I like it. In fact, I love it. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t. Things we do regularly seem to get easier every time. There are a few things I’ve learned to do to make writing go faster and better:
- Get main ideas down quickly, in the fewest words possible. If seemingly unrelated words trigger some idea for you, then do that. Whatever it is, just get everything out.
- Then, just write, write, write.
- Seriously, don’t stop writing. Every little thing, write it down. I cannot emphasize this enough!
- Do not erase anything. If you must, strike out ideas with a single line
- Explain why the subject is important
- Reveal any biases—be as transparent as possible
- Edit, edit, edit. Edit some more. Sleep. Edit again.
- Chop as much out as possible while maintaining your original meaning and intent
I’ve got three main places I write. When at my computer I use a program called xPad (Mac only). It has a dock that lists all the documents I’ve written, auto-saves as I write, spell–checks, and has a word–count. I’m sure there are alternatives for other operating systems. If I’ve got internet access, I use gmail or Google documents to write and save whatever it is I’m working on. The third place is in my notebook/cards. I always have my notebook or a stack of notecards held together by a binder clip. I jot down my ideas so that I don’t forget. If it’s not written directly in xPad, it eventually gets reviewed, transfered, and elaborated upon later when at a computer.
Writing by hand—unless for a thank–you note, personal letter, or the sensuality of ink on paper—just seems like a huge waste of time and energy. Don’t get me wrong—I love to do it—but writing research papers and blog entries require a bit more organization and flexibility. And that’s because I edit the fuck out of almost everything I write. I’ve tried to write rough drafts by hand, then revise by hand, and type them out once completed. It just doesn’t flow as easily. I can’t cut and paste ideas from one location to another; I can’t copy a quotes quickly and reference their sources; I can’t write at almost 80 words per minute by hand. I’ve considered learning shorthand to do just that. Perhaps I will, but until then, I’ll stick to my computer when possible and appropriate.
Writing is a necessary tool, not just as a student, but as a professional. Be it for a designer or internet-based crafter, the ability to communicate adeptly through written word is an undeniable asset—and one that I strive to continuously hone.
Chile Checkmate
01344 days
Someone upstairs has been stomping around between sneezing bouts.
Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!! [stomp stomp stomp] Achoo! Achoo! [frustrated gasp for air] Achoo! Achoo! Achoo! [stomp stomp].
I think it’s finally over—she’s succumbed! Perhaps the vapors from the large number of chiles drying in my kitchen are wafting up through both our open windows and into her nose? I can see it now: a stream of tiny red particles yippie-ing in glee through my screen window. Up the side of brown brick they climb till they reach the also–open screen window above mine, where they rocket up either nostril and on to her olfactory sensors. An electrical impulse travels to her brain. An irritant! Sneeze to destroy all invaders! Achoo! Achoo! Like microscopic airborn red ants, they fly out of her nose, coated in mucus, but are immediately replaced by an onslaught of their restless brethren. She’s won the battle…for now.
Back in reality, it’s just allergies. Can you tell I OD’d on Magic School bus as a kid? Perhaps I’ll move the peppers closer to the window and see what happens…
The Em-pear Strikes Back
21346 days
I know, the clever titles are killing you.
Its just past 3:30 in the morning and though tired, I don’t really feel it. So, I went for a super-mini bike ride up the street to check on the pears I mentioned awhile back. Unlike last time, I spotted a cluster instantly. They’re not full size yet, nor should they be. Afterall, its barely September. Anyhow, here’s a photo:
I found a long stick near the tree and used it to knock a few morsels off their boughs. Weirdly, all of them had a really soft side. At first I thought it was due to them hitting the road, or from the impact of the stick. But I probed further and found this:
Looks like either:
a) general underdevelopment (though not likely)
b) some sort of insect infestation (though the darker bits didn’t seem like insect eggs…but I’m no entomologist)
c) aliens (yes, Dr. Who’s fault)
Anybody have any ideas?
I did manage to get one which had a significantly smaller patch and only nibbled one side (seen in first photograph). It was a bit tart and much harder than a ripe pear, but the sweetness had definitely started to develop and the skin was nice and crisp.
This led me to a pretty decent idea: I’m going to build a tree-fruit harvester out of recycled goods. I’ll post the process on here in the weeks to come, along with photos of the tree, its yield, the surroundings, and related recipes. Keep your eyes open and your mouths closed–chewing delicious food, of course!
Words of the Day
21347 days
School just started, and I’ve been extremely busy–but I promise more food related posts soon! For now, here are some words whose meanings I’ve re/learned whilst reading for school:
- tacit – understood or implied without being stated
- efface – erase (a mark) from a surface | make oneself appear insignificant or inconspicuous
- assuage – make (an unpleasant feeling) less intense | satisfy
- confer – grant or bestow
- memento mori – “remember that you are mortal”
- vertiginous – causing vertigo, esp. by being extremely high or steep
- goad – a thing that stimulates someone into action | to provoke or annoy (someone) so as to stimulate some action or reaction
The definitions are from the Oxford English Dictionary, except for where linked.
Viet Hoa
1I was supposed to meet a friend. But as I stepped off the bus I found myself face to face with a place I’d only heard of. I didn’t remember the name, but rather the location. So, just before 7pm, I walked through the corner entrance of the building on 49th and North Avenue: Viet Hoa.
I debated not calling my friend to let him know I’d be late—but there was no hesitation as I crossed the street and pulled the door open. As I walked through, I was confronted by a large rack full of rice sacks. I walked past the checkouts, past the open freeze coolers and refrigerated displays full of exotic fruits and vegetables. The store was full of color, smells, bizarre packaging, and things one would generally not sense in an American grocery. Despite being the only white male in the store, wearing a bright yellow hoodie, rolled up jeans, and large green bag, no one stared at me—unlike the attention I’ve drawn at other ethnic groceries. Thanks, El Rey.
I felt at home. I was comfortable. At ease, completely free. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. As I wandered the store, I smelled things I’d only read of, touched things I’d only seen in pictures, and smelled things whose existence I’d still question as I write this. And for once, I saw a real butcher in a grocery store. And a proper one at that—who sold more than the choicest cuts that this culinarily-challenged nation has become so accustomed. One whose case contains whole chickens. Head in all, in all their de-feathered glory. In case you’re looking, they’re right next to the bin of chicken feet. Or you could just ask.
I continued, perusing the aisles, absorbing as much as possible. From what I’ve heard, Viet Hoa is Milwaukee’s largest Asian food store. I haven’t been to all of them, but I wouldn’t question it; the store expanded back far deeper than I expected—where I found an entire aisle of rice noodles. Seeing as I’m invited to two food-related events on Sunday (with wheat allergies being a potential issue), I figured they were a safe buy. Plus, I’ve only cooked rice noodles a few times and could use the practice. I also picked up some standard fare: a can or coconut milk, some chile oil, and a box of red bean popsicles—a memory of a friend from my recent past.
As I walked out, I immediately opened the popsicles. They certainly…were…frozen? The taste grew on me, but they were still a bit too subtle and questionable to be a regular purchase. Anyhow, I finally rang the doorbell 30 minutes late. No questions asked.
I’ll return soon for some in store photos, but I couldn’t resist writing something. This place is phenomenal. Indian, Vietnamese, Thai, Chinese and other Asian ingredients have been creeping into my cooking vocabulary, so I will definitely be writing more soon. I’d suggest you check it out if you haven’t already.
Beans, the Superfood of the Proletariat
41355 days
These little fuckers should wear capes. Packed with iron, protein, folate and dietary fiber, few foods can match the boon that is beans. They’re also rich in other vitamins, minerals and yes folks, they contain the full array and amount of amino acids. Combine them with rice and you’ve got yourself a complex carbohydrate—and a meal that’s eaten the world over. Plus they make you fart.
What more could one ask for? Well fancy you should ask. I buy my beans dry rather than canned—either in bulk or pre-measured packs—and I do this for several good reasons.
- Weight. I bike. To work. To friends’ houses. To the grocery store. Canned beans are packed in that weird goo, not to mention…a can. Both of these things are HEAVY. Bagged beans are dehydrated, so I get more for the weight. After soaking, reconstituting, and cooking, beans nearly triple in mass. Amazing.
- Cost. This is somewhat related to reason one. A bag of beans and can of beans weighing roughly the same also cost roughly the same where I shop. In fact, usually exactly the same. Even in bulk they’re close. The dried will yield about 2½ more in mass than the canned. Et, voilà. Pound for pound, beans are some of the cheapest natural protein in the world.
- Storage. I keep them bagged or in a sealed container. They take up less space than a can and generally last longer. Were I to stockpile dried, I could use them in whatever quantity I wanted. Try that with a can.
- Processing. I like knowing how my food is prepared and I like buying it with the least amount of processing possible. This is how beans should get to my mouth:
- Grow beans
- Harvest beans
- Dehydrate beans
- Package beans
- Transport
That’s my sort of bean. None of that aforementioned goo. That the fuck is that shit anyway? Were I to grow them, I could eliminate the last three steps—maybe someday, but I’m not quite there yet.
Hopefully I’ve convinced you to at least give beans a chance. You might be tempted to give peas a chance too, but beans would give that legume a lashing of a lifetime. No offense, Mr. Lennon. I’ll post some bean recipes soon. If you’ve got a recipe or ideas to share, email me. If enough are submitted, I’ll try to post something in a similar vein.
O Really? Unionization, Hope, and the Future of America
11357 days
The cicadas were whirring madly in the late Summer sun as my friend Brian handed over two lime green tickets. My heart skipped a beat and I think I soiled myself. Okay. I know I soiled myself. But why?
I was skeptical of the Obama campaign’s ability to translate spirit and hope into action and change. So why was I still get excited to see him? What weak-willed wretch had I become to be persuaded by this potential sycophant? I pondered more as we waited in line at Milwaukee’s lake-front amphitheater.
I realized my excitement comes from the fact that I have little faith in fortune tellers. And I don’t think Obama hovers over a crystal ball. His faithfuls often divine what future our nation will face under their leader’s incumbency—but that does not mean that Obama’s campaign is without a solid vision or plan.
My initial reaction to his campaign was one of awe. The design is refined, classic, masculine but elegant. Something Cary Grant would approve of. It smells strongly of web 2.0—dare I call it Campaign 2.0? As Kennedy’s win hinged on television viewers in the 60s, so too does Obama’s hinge on technology users today. The comparisons to Kennedy have been going on since he announced his intent to run for office—so I’ll leave it at that for now.
Some time passed and it occurred to me that this could all be a ruse. And if not a ruse, then it could perhaps fall flat. My skepticism of the campaign polish—the logo, the website, the SMS donations, video feeds and so on—has gotten me into many arguments. As a designer, I appreciate what goes into creating an identity—more importantly, I know that an identity can be used for good or ill. That’s what scared me. That power and potential.
But as the crowd filled the seats and their rally cries emanated through the covered venue, I realized that what brings change is people. I looked around at all the people. Their eyes watering and hearts pounding, these people filled with hope, inspired and empowered by a man who understands how the world is changing and what it takes to mobilize a nation. It was hard to not have faith in the 20,000 human beings surrounding me.
Obama shows intent and social consciousness beyond that of Kennedy, Carter, Clinton—the few presidents who give me even a whisper of patriotism. We are extremely lucky to have a leader who knows that citizens run nations—and isn’t afraid to empower them.
That is why I pooped my pants. Change indeed.