Written on 11 Feb 2005.

There is a French linguist that has earned the distinction of getting under my skin. In a lengthy diatribe that linguists call a “proof”, this linguist speaks about myth. He states, as a thesis, that statements within myths have more meaning when separated from their myths. He attempts to show that when considered in a purely linguistic fashion, the statements hold more meaning. This, he says, is because the context of the myth is lost to us forever, so the meaning the statement within the myth is a broken, dead thing.

As a student of objective religion and as a story-teller, I am personally offended. Through reading academic and professional writings over my life span, I have noticed a disturbing trend. To feel worthwhile, many have a need to reduce any view but their own to a worthless state. They must proclaim other views as meaningless, futile, and ultimately stupid. While this trend begins in Junior High School, it continues into middle management, over-paid executives, and academics that cannot abide obscurity.

Myths, and the statements within them, are powerful and whole literary pieces. Not only do they perform critical functions in the forming and evolution of a society (even today), but they provide major clues to understanding societies long dead. Even a newly-unearthed myth can have great personal meaning to someone living today. Reducing a myth, and the statements within it, to a “purely linguistic form” robs a myth of its history and true importance.

Written on 10 Feb 2005.

When cassette tapes slowly fell out of style, there was no question as to what would replace them. The Compact Disc, or CD, had already begun to infiltrate the market. Walkman, a combination AM/FM radio and cassette tape player, was a device made by Sony so that anyone could take their music with them. Being on top of their market, Sony released the Discman. Some came with belt clips, but most were meant for stationary use. Some were even mounted in cars on shock-absorbing devices to prevent the dreaded CD-skip. Even as their technology advanced – electronic skip protection, bass boost, ability to re-charge batteries while plugged in, ability to read CD-RW’s, and now the ability to read data CD’s with music files on them – their shape and design remained essentially the same.

Sony, as well as its competitors, seem to have completely abandoned the tried and true design. The straight back, holding the hinge for the top cover panel. The straight sides from back to front. The curved front panel with its central LCD layout, surrounded by all of the buttons and dials necessary for all of the unit’s functions. The panel to access the batteries on the bottom. No matter the brand, your portable CD player essentially looked like everybody else’s, despite stickers or painting. Until now.

I am amazed, as I see people studying, riding the bus, walking to class, when they pull out their CD players. It seems that there are as many designs, from the ground up, as there are people that own them. I admit that I’ve been out of the market, as my Methuselah Discman circa June 1997 still works beautifully. But, as I began to notice the changes wrought in those years, I began to smile. Apart from the custom airbrush paint job, my Discman is becoming as unique as the new designs. As the old models fail, it may truly become one of a kind, even before the next medium eclipses CD’s.

Some thoughts on deity.

When you make a pledge, an oath, to a deity, and you break it, how do you expect to deal with the repercussions? Do you expect any at all? So many students send their pleas to the heavens! “Please, God, if I can only pass this exam, I’ll never drink that much beer again!” “Please, God, if you could make this pregnancy test negative, I swear I’ll use a condom from now on.” How many pleas and prayers are answered, only to have these oath-breakers back doing the same things a few weeks later. On a small level, I envy these people for their forgiving and inattentive god.

I, on the other hand, do not have that luxury. My goddess makes certain that I understand the gravity of the promises that I have made. For instance, January’s New Moon came and went without a day of silence from me. My pledge was made in earnest, and sealed in blood. Shortly after the day passed, I became sick with a chest and throat cold. Over two days, my voice declined from normal, into a croak, and then left me completely. For three days, I could not speak above a whisper.

Many modern Christians bemoan the mysterious, hidden nature of their god. Here, the old adage fits. Be careful what you wish for.