A poster in the break room holds a photograph of an employee I’ll never meet. He won the national service star competition. Beneath the picture of this smiling man, who could probably pass for our senior discount, a caption tells me that he personifies the ideals of the company. Personification. Yes, national grocery distribution outlet, what’s being personified are your ideals; the ideals which posses a more defined human identity than your workers, if we’re using the word in association with its meaning. Read correctly, I think couple associates would agree with the dismal outlook the store is projecting upon its employees. As much as I don’t trust the dictionary, there’s almost an Orwellian undertone to changing the meaning of a word. The act of personification is linguistically beautiful, projecting life onto not-life, but I feel this is another case of swapping authenticity for style. What’s lost when the gears shift?
Sometimes I’d like to stick a bucket under the leaking faucets meaning. Not only would I’d like to see what condensates on the outside of the pipes, but to learn just where the sprockets are loose. The leak exists only if there’s a flow. I’ll brew some coffee with the murky water.
Earlier this week, I took a ride down to the University of Rhode Island in hopes of gathering some more information about their graduate program. This probably would have been one of my more productive days if I had found the initiative to actually leave the car when I arrived. I sampled the commute to Kingston, a cozy farm town with Dunkin’ Donuts only a block from the campus. But this isn’t enough. If I’m serious about the pursuit of graduate studies, here or anywhere, I need to start communicating. I feel that my research into different programs involves more looking into what people are saying about their programs than actually looking into different schools themselves. I’m doing more eavesdropping than asking. It’s time to send some emails.
Why the fixation on URI’s Composition and Rhetoric program? This is a question I really need to be asking myself. A short answer is that it’s a moderately applicable field that sort of transcends the literature teacher option, which I do like. Maybe what appeals to me the most about composition and rhetoric is that they’re what I struggle with the most. Looking back at the essays I’ve written as an undergraduate, I can see a lot of sloppy patterns and more weaknesses than strengths. And considering the way I verbally communicate, I’m known to mumble incomplete phrases, ending just about every sentence with and, settling for incomplete thoughts. Maybe it’s another pursuit of self. Maybe that’s what a career is.
I don’t know what I’ll be doing with the rest of my life. I’m sure there will be words and meaning, maybe a cat or two.
Stage Fright 