Language is an attempted collaboration between two people wherein, if they’re very very lucky, an idea gets transmitted.
In my experience, this rarely happens; people are usually uninterested in seeing any perspective other than their own. Most of conversation, for example, consists of two people each politely waiting for the other to pause long enough to permit them to express their own opinion — which will also go unheard.
But writing is unlike this. It can be read more than once, you see, so an idea can get across more easily. In addition, this sort of writing can be a dialogue; there’s a Comments feature, and I assure you that I read the comments. And there’s an edit button, so if you convince me of something, I can change what I wrote.
Let’s try to communicate ideas. Shall we?
On this site, I intend to publish a variety of original articles. Looking back at what’s gone up so far, there have been half a dozen posts on the American political process, opinion pieces on ISIL and Syrian refugees, informative articles on the health care system, autism and vaccines, a distillation of the commonly known truths underlying conspiracy theories…
There’s a bit of variety here. It’s not all for everyone, but given the range of topics, I’m positive that there’s at least something that will interest anyone.
A friend of mine asked me a while back where I find the time to write, and for that matter if I ever sleep. I do, in fact; I’m rather useless without my eight-and-a-half hours. However, life’s obligations and a faulty internal clock often combine to give me occasional naps now and then instead of a large block of sleep. It’s called “dissomnia”, which is just medical Latin for “has trouble sleeping”. Thanks, medical profession.
Many nights, I find solace in the following poem, entitled
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!
– Edna St. Vincent Millay
But then there’s other days where I feel this one to be more appropriate:
I burned my candle at both ends,
And now have neither foes nor friends;
For all the lovely light begotten,
I’m paying now in feeling rotten.
– Samuel Hoffenstein