a snippet of fiction

Happy with this just because it helped me tease out an idea that'd been dancing around the edges of my consciousness for the past few days:

           He wasn’t happy, and that meant a bad decision was more likely than not. People made bad decisions when they were unhappy. Their true selves were locked away, down deep, protected from the miserable fog of their day-to-day experience, and they made decisions on impulse, grabbing desperately onto any stray idea that seemed to promise a way out of the grey clouds that mired them. People thought their hearts were what led them astray, but it wasn’t true. The mind was a necessary check on the heart, sure enough, but it was an insensitive instrument when left to itself, tone-deaf and unable to hear when a note struck true.

            He was unhappy, and desperate not to be, and his brilliant mind was going to lead him to do something very, very stupid indeed.

Not sure what I think of the idea, but I do love how writing helps get my ideas out of my head and onto paper, where they're easier to study.

-Jessica Snell

ETA: this is just scratchpad stuff, unedited, just scribbling because I had an idea I wanted to play with. And just posting because, well, because it's my blog, and I wanted to.

links: heresy vs. schism, what you can fit in the day, simplicity and more

First off, a short little meditation by David Mills, blogging over at First Things. Here's an excerpt:

Back when I was an Episcopal activist, both liberals who were busy gutting the Episcopal Church of its traditional beliefs and conservatives who didn’t want to challenge them were fond of intoning “Schism is worse than heresy.” It was a little odd to hear this from members of a tradition that began in a break with the Church of which it had been a part over what its leaders thought to be heresies.

But the real problem with the claim was theological: that heresy is itself an act of schism. It is a break with the tradition, a rejection of what had been the shared and official belief, a willful refusal to remain in unity with one’s brothers, a transfer of allegiance and obedience to a new and alien ideology.

I'd've copied more, but it's only about four paragraphs long anyway; I encourage you to follow the link and read the second half. It's brilliant. And sad.

Then, more brilliance from Patricia Wrede. You may have heard the rocks-sand-water-in-a-jar parable before, but I, at least, have never heard it told with this ending. If you ever feel like you're doing too much, or not getting done the things you think are most important, you'll want to go and read this.

Next, Auntie Leila on how we need to be less patient with our children. And . . . in the way she means it, I absolutely agree. Go read this wise woman's words.

Quotidian Moments has a short, simple post about, well, simplicity. I really liked this part, where she's talking about why she doesn't use Tapestry of Grace, even though it's a good program:

This is why I need simplicity, and it's why I have to define simplicity as what is simple for me. When I find some things overwhelming, I don't always know why. I have no idea why I can work with K12 fairly easily while TOG makes me feel jittery just looking at it. I just know I have to respect that. If I absolutely HAD to work with TOG, say, my husband really wanted me to or something, I'm sure I could make it work. But then, that would be different. Making things work is something different.

There's a sort of freedom in not needing to be involved with something that would be a burden, even if it is good in itself.

You've probably heard that muscle weighs less than fat, which isn't true, but here's a nifty photo showing what is true: that muscles takes up a lot less space than fat. I just think it's a neat visual.

This post on Conversion Diary offers a striking new perspective on the people who just happen to be in our lives (or, in other words, nothing's that random). In all honesty, this post has helped me even this week. 

This might be a bit connected to my current series (is it a series? It might be a series) on education and character . . . at least a bit. Anyway, go read about how "Christian faith is essentially thinking".

And, on that point, I'll leave off. I'll have a new post on homeschooling and character growth up soon, because I don't think I"ve changed my mind completely, but your comments and points are certainly refining my thinking on the subject, and helping me see what the ladies I met might have been getting at. I'm still mulling it all over, and I'm very grateful for the help you've contributed to that mulling-over process. Thank you!

Peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell

links

This is a good reminder for any parent with a child young enough to sit in a carseat.

This article is about how the language you speak shapes the way you think. (Hat tip Semicolon.)

Two very helpful posts from Nathan Bransford: one on how to write a novel and one on how to revise one.

Love this post from Anne Kennedy, which includes the awesome declaration:

And so, in a fit of brilliance, the idea that we should Not Ever Ever Ever let fall the contents of our hands upon the earth, and nor should our children, nor our children's children, nor also the cat, nor the dog, nor any creature that moveth in the house or in the yard hit us as from Heaven itself.

synesthesia and the perception of time

You probably know that there are some people who see colors when they see specific letters or numbers. Or hear certain sounds. This is a condition known as synesthesia, and I read an article about it a couple of months ago in an old issue of the Smithsonian. (I think this was the article I read, but I'm not sure, because the link is just to an abstract.)

It was a fascinating article, but it became personal when they noted, off-handedly, that some synesthetes perceived time in a concrete fashion. They had a picture for the way years looked, or weeks or days. An idiosyncratic chart of time.

That pulled me up short. I thought, Well, I have that. And I thought it was strange that they should mention it. So I asked my husband if he had a specific picture when he thought about time. And he said no. And after that, I asked around some more.

Turns out most people don't see time when they think about time. But I do. I always have. As far back as I can remember knowing about years and months and days and weeks, I can remember seeing them. From what I've read, that's part of what makes it true synesthesia: you've always seen it that way. Apparently it's really common to spend years not knowing you have synesthesia for the simple reason that it never occurs to you that other people don't see the same thing you see. Now, I never thought people saw the same chart I saw, but I assumed they saw something. It's still very weird to me that that's not true.

What do I see? Well, years hang like an ovoid loop, suspended from December 31 and January 1. Sort of a teardrop shape. Right now we're going down the loop of the year. By about September, we'll start going up. Years string together in a sort-of L-shape scroll, from as far back as history goes, extending out towards the future. Out and up. At a specific angle.  Weeks look like telephone lines, suspended by Sundays and dipping lowest around Wednesdays. I can view it from the side, or I can sit on top of it and swoop up and down the curve of it. Days themselves are a loop, very similar to the loop of the year. And I can zoom in or out along this picture, down to the minute and out to the century. It all strings together.

Apparently this isn't normal.

But, I'm curious, do any of you reading see time when you think of time? I guess it's called number-form synesthesia or spacial-sequence synesthesia. I get now that not most people see things when they think of time, but I always have, and I can't imagine how you would think about it if you couldn't see it. I see numbers along a specifically-shaped line too, come to think of it. They head straight up to 100, and then veer off sharply to the left. Negative numbers are down. I do better thinking of them if I look at them from the left instead of from the right. Like tilting your paper a bit so your handwriting slants the right way; it just makes things easier.

Again, I now get that this isn't normal. Most people don't shift their position in regard to the numbers they're studying in their head so that they can see and understand them better. But I do. Always have. (Okay, now that I think of it, I have to shift to look at them from the left, because then I can read them forwards instead of backwards, because after zero, the numbers start to go from left to right instead of up and down. Well, they go down, but they are next to each other rather than on top of each other like the positive numbers are. Huh. Never realized that's why I did that.)

If you don't see a picture when you think of time, how do you conceptualize it? Do you conceptualize it? Or is it just something that exists, without needing to exist in any tangible form?

Truly, the brain is an odd organ. But if I have to have an odd twist to my brain, I think I'm glad I have this one. It's not a hindrance to me, I don't think - though it may explain some of the trouble I had when I hit the higher maths. I couldn't ever fold my number line in a way that made calculus make sense. But there you are. I'm not sorry for it. Like I said: I can't imagine seeing time and numbers any other way.

But I'm still curious how others see it, if they see it at all.   

peace of Christ to you,

Jessica Snell