Saturday, April 12, 2008
A friend of mine once said that, in music, the silence between notes is just as important as the note.
I have learned the same to be true with words.
Not that you have to have a set amount of silence in between each note or word, but that the absence of a certain word or note can be just as important as the ones that are there.
You gotta pick and choose.
I tend to work [in words, anyway] in the 'more is merrier' mentality. Part of it is undoubtedly that I like to think out loud. The journey is the important part to me - not the conclusion, once I've gotten there. Otherwise, it's like wrapping up the whole of Cinderella with . . . .and they lived happily ever after. "Happily ever after" isn't really relevant - or even interesting - until you've gone through all the twists and turns first.
But that takes time, and words.
In the last week, however, I've come across a couple different challenges to try and summarize a bit more. One, a one-sentence journal, in which you write every day. One sentence. Whoa! That's tough. Which segment of the day do I highlight? The particularly yummy spring rolls from House of Hunan last night, my concern that the king's driving is getting more aggressive (and should I say something?), or the delight at seeing the brick details out at the house we're building, on a 70 degree day, in which I spotted a Woody Woodpecker look-alike off the back porch.
Then, there was a 'meme' (and what is that, please?): My Life in Six Words.
Six? Why not seven? Yeah. . . . six is the 'number of man', and most people seem to sum up their lives - in six words - by what they "do"; their "job"; their "title"; their "function".
Would "PhD" be more descriptive of me than the fact that I think heaven smells like alyssum? Is "lawyer" more apt than "romantic" or "ruthless"? Is "childless" as important as "mother" - or does the absence of 'mother' in an exercise like this state 'childless' as the only logical alternative? What space is there for including things like being a good friend, crying over sad books, and skipping through meadows, talking to squirrels?
My Life in Six Words.
I refuse to do that. There.
That's six words. [I would have preferred to say "So there." Oh well. You live and edit.]