Random Fragments from My Fractured Mind

I flunked algebra. Twice. So is it any wonder I've forgotten how we were taught to do long division back in the '60s and '70s? That I forgot we used the decimal point method in long division? A Facebook friend shared this video illustrating how to do it the way he teaches it, using a "rounding up" method:

 

 

I like it this way a whole lot better than the old way. Maybe I would have even passed algebra the first time, had I had this foundation going in.

 

There's something invigorating and uplifting about stepping outside first thing to crisp, cool air and that peculiarly slanted light of an autumn morning. It's certainly a relief and welcome change after so many months of stepping outside at 8 a. m. and already feeling beaten by the oppressive heat and humidity.

 

Will I ever tire of Honey Nut Cheerios in the morning? Or Trader Joe's Granola with 3 Berries mixed into their vanilla bean Greek yogurt in the evening? I doubt it.

 

The two small dogs next door are prodigious barkers; they bark at every sound and every passing creature, human or non-. While it was annoying at first, it has become white noise to me, even at night, and I'm actually grateful to have such alert watchdogs next door.

 

One thing I deeply miss about monastic life is being able to talk about my Catholic faith with people who automatically understand what I'm talking about. While I love and cherish all my Protestant friends, my atheist friends, and my friends who are indifferent to religious matters, I so long to talk in depth about my love and thoughts of the Eucharist, Mary, the Saints, etc. This is not to say that I don't share my general faith with them; I have absolutely no qualms about that, as my Facebook friends can testify! But I long to discuss specific points in the Catechism, the papal encyclicals, and the documents of Vatican II—everything. In many ways I feel isolated and alone, though I love this semi-reclusive life I live now. As you know, I serve as organist and cantor at a small chapel in a retirement village, and I love the elderly people who attend Mass there; but I have yet to find someone with whom I can sit and have a really good chin-wag about doctrine and dogma. There's my family, of course, but sometimes you need a friend.

 

I'm losing my Italian. My own fault; I'm a lazy bum. I really should rouse myself off my big fat duff and dust off my grammar books.

 

See, this is why I've never been any good on Twitter: even in writing these so-called "fragments," I just can't seem to limit myself to 140 characters. So now my Twitter activity is limited to following a handful of people and checking my handful of regular searches.

 

I still have my Tumblr blog, but I mostly reblog art and photography I like, and post random Niles Crane quotes. Guess what gets the most "likes" and "reblogs"—yup, that's right; the Niles Crane quotes. Just like on this blog.

 

By the way, one of my posts here recently reached over 1000 hits, and you know which one it is? Wrong! It's "Regret"! And I still have no earthly idea why!



Succumbing to Emoticons

     Facebook can be a minefield. I've learned this the hard way. Actually, it's not just Facebook, it's any communication through the written word, especially "fast-food" versions, otherwise known as social networks. Twitter can be equally precarious.

     What I mean is, what you write, particularly in haste, can so easily be misconstrued and the person you are writing to so easily offended. With handwritten letters and even email, there is a certain luxury of leisure in which you may think a bit more while writing so as to express yourself clearly and accurately. Conversely, as too often happens given today's technology and faster pace, you are more likely to post/comment on Facebook or tweet on Twitter via handheld gadget and while out and about in public, greatly decreasing the possibility for careful thought before writing. But even in the calmer atmosphere of home, posting/commenting/tweeting is too often done haphazardly, with little consideration as to how things are expressed and how they may be interpreted. Consequently, the reader can take things the wrong way, respond in kind, even unfriend or block you, and you are left bewildered and even indignant that what you wrote could be so misconstrued.

     Enter the emoticon. When I first began tweeting and Facebooking, I held emoticons in deep disdain and was annoyed at the very sight of them. True to my nature, the more I saw them scattered about my screen the more I resisted using them. Words, I maintained, chosen with discrimination, would suffice to communicate clearly.

     Unfortunately, what I have discovered over time is that I am the kind of person who needs to think not once, not twice, but many times, and long and hard, before I type and press "Enter." I read something a friend has written on Facebook and I enter a comment that may be a kneejerk response, without pausing to think that I may be offending my friend. Then, also true to my nature, I spend the next several hours in genuine remorse, wishing I hadn't written so hastily and thoughtlessly.

     I finally have to admit that emoticons, abhorrent as they are to me, do indeed prevent a great deal of misunderstanding. The mere presence of a ☺takes away hidden, unintentional stings so that harmony may prevail. The emoticon is the written equivalent of the American South's ubiquitous expression "bless her heart," which can soften even the most bald-faced insult ("she looks like a beached whale in that dress, bless her heart").

     All that said, I steadfastly refuse to use the word "heart" as a verb. "Love" in any language is the most beautiful, if also often misused, word in the world. Besides, loving involves much more than the heart.