Going Home (Metaphorically)

This song is included on the Up in the Air soundtrack, a soundtrack and movie I respect, and would like to review the elements of the dualism between community vs. non-community in a future entry. For now, listen to this song, or take in Dan's (another Dan, confusing, I know) lyrics. They have been cathartic and inspiring as I continue to write Rust-Belt memories.

Goin' Home by Dan Auerbach

I’ve spent too long away from home

Did all the things I could have done

Gone are the days of endless thrills

I know I’m not the only one

So long, I’m goin’, goin’ home…

I saw the streets all ripe with jewels

Balconies and the laundry lines

They tried to make me welcome there

But their streets did not feel like mine

So long, I’m goin’, goin’ home…

I want the sun to hit my face

Through oak trees in the open lot

Forget about the things you want

Be thankful for what all you got

So long, I’m goin’, goin’ home…

Goforth and See,

Dan

Strunk and White

I was charged by a favorite professor of mine to "read, breathe, and sleep with Strunk and White." That describes the kind of action I will be getting this summer--a sterile and inflexible book (is that a metaphor?).

Anyway, this is not the point of my blog. Sorry to those of you who were gearing up for a blog entry on runner's high. It's on the backburner, along with one on Kelly Clarkson and "heroes."

As I read the elementary rules of usage, I was also receiving subliminal elementary principles of life. Take, for instance, this sentence, which according to Strunk and White does not need a colon. I agree with their assessment.

"Understanding is that penetrating quality of knowledge that grows from theory, practice, conviction, assertion, error, and humiliation."

Ha, this is what I am seeking in life--understanding of my current situation. This is so plainly written and pragmatic for me right now. Thank you Strunk and White, even if I still lack the understanding of when a colon shall be used: here, maybe? What is "no?"

On the same exact page, an example is given when "a colon may introduce a quotation that supports or contributes to the preceding clause.

The squalor of the streets reminded her of a line from Oscar Wilde: "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Yes, me too Oscar, I will look for those stars, even when they blink ever so faintly. On a tangential note, I think I'm in the pothole, as opposed to the gutter, to provide a more appropriate Southwestern PA context.

The number of the subject determines the number of the verb. What? Anyway, under that heading is this sentence:

"The bittersweet flavor of youth--its trials, its joys, its adventures, its challenges--is (not are) not soon forgotten." That was on the next page. C'mon, is this some sort of linguists conspiracy? Perhaps, please read on.

A plural verb is commonly used when none suggest more than one thing or person.

"None are so fallible as those who are sure they're right."

I was sure I was doing everything right up until last month. But as the next example cites, "The trouble with truth is its many varieties." In my case, I am dealing with the following varieties: hard truths, epiphantic ones, and the unlikeable sort. How do you like me now colon?

And the ironies continue...

Quotidian Observations

Dear Readers,

As a person who plays around with the title of "writer," I find the idea of wanting that label requires me to fulfill certain requisites. While I could provide a laundry list of what I and more experienced writers believe what-constitutes-a-writer, I want to dwell on one: the quotidian.

As a writer one must always be on the look out for the ordinary and how to turn those ordinary observations into the extraordinary. This, I guess, was always an innate ability of mine--to seek out minutiae. Often, I would stare out of the car window on long road trips saying nothing, taking in long pollution ridden whiffs of the post-industrial landscape of Western Pennsylvania, sometimes bringing worry to my relatives. On one such incident, I did not say one word to my Aunt Cheri on an hour-long voyage to Pittsburgh. My aunt called my mom immediately as we arrived to her house asking her if "little Danny is all right. He didn't say a single word to me on the way down. Do you think he is depressed?" I was three.

I learned slowly that talking is also a requisite for normal social interaction in a vehicle. But tonight, as I wrote my University of Pennsylvania grad school essay, detailing my interest in environmental studies, I remembered my nascent proclivity toward sustainability in grade school and high school. As an environmental club member, not a particularly popular club selection as a budding basketball star, I remembered planting dogwood trees (with my crush at the time, romantic eh) in a green space in our public high school parking lot. I drove up there, maybe in a narcissistic state (derek could analyze this situation better than I) or out of hope the dogwoods would be taller than me by now, and found they removed the green space for more parking spaces. I was frankly indifferent, Laurel Highlands being a school never close to my heart, but it made me think on the way home about how important these small, seemingly normal moments are in life.

• planting a tree at your nepotism-ridden former high school

• the no outlet sign cemented-in at the end of your home's lane (a symbolic gesture of Uniontown social life)

• one of the largest crosses in the world constructed on the Chestnut ridge mountain, noticeable from five miles away as I pass the no outlet sign (a symbol too of my distant, but still shimmering spiritual life)

• wondering why my monster trail mix from Target has an inordinate ratio of raisins to "good shit" (Damn you Archer Farms. Your satisfaction guaranteed is a marketing ploy.)

Not to say we should read into everything in our routine day-to-day, but be on the lookout for the shoe hanging over the electric wire, the mitten smooshed into the sidewalk, what your hometown is famous for (ours is the home of the Big Mac). What does the quotidian mean? Sometimes nothing, but sometimes a lot, so be observative, but don't get caught up in noticing the arrangement of box stores that you forget to talk with your friends and family.

Goforth and See,

Daniel Webster Jr.

Transcending Space

Dear Readers,

I've started blogging, or public journalling, not because I have given in to mechanized forms of communication, but because I want to, as my title suggests, transcend space. I didn't know what that meant until now. Watch this. http://http//www.youtube.com/watch?v=6k-N6ri95Xs Just the first 15 seconds. Devin, teach me how to embed links. Time is another human construct that is realistically transcended in The Time Traveler's Wife--my first recommended read.

I want to transcend space, because gravity has pushed its 9.8 m/s (west) on me and I have landed back in Uniontown, PA. In a sense, I see the importance of communicating to my friends and mentors my goings-on, ever-reforming philosophies, the quotidian, and perhaps, the celebrations I share with myself and others without all of you. Therefore, if I can not call you, or carefully pen you "snail-mail," or share with you moments in your niche of the world--Ohio, Harrisburg, Philadelphia, or elsewhere--I would like to share with you a slice of southwestern PA (it's too gritty to taste more than a slice). This is all to say that I miss all of you, and this is a feeble attempt to compensate for the feeling of being alone--but not lonely. Let me explain.

I felt an extreme sense of loneliness, due to many factors after leaving Messiah College. I mourned for days, and found solace in the voices of friends and my literary pursuits. Then, I started my job, and I am officially titled "sustainability coordinator" of Fay-Penn Economic Development Council, a non-profit organization charged with revitalizing Fayette County's economy--the third poorest county in Pennsylvania. They have asked me to develop a plan for local economy initiatives with an emphasis on sustainability. Thus, I have been charged with revitalizing a town's local economy, much like the "buy local" campaigns occurring in Philadelphia, Boulder, Colorado, and San Francisco, but proving it to a crowd of post-industrial cynics with little faith in the ideas of an economic upturn, especially with philosophies they have never heard of--localism, sustainability, living economy. Guffaws.

While these objectives keep me busy during the day, and training for a marathon, the GRE's, and applying to grad schools keeps my busy at night, I have moved from lonely to alone--in my thoughts, ideals, and age demographic (I am the youngest in my office by at least 15 years). Now, I am slowly beginning to realize that even if you come out of college with your ideal job situation, location and friends matter more than titles, and while I knew this before, it was never so evident after spending last weekend in Harrisburg.

A slice of southwestern PA is coming soon. Here's a sneak preview.

While I was walking in downtown Uniontown yesterday, a former basketball friend gave me a black power fist pump, and yelled "Weeeb" loudly. I wouldn't have wanted that greeting to be any other way.

Please transcend space with me, and maybe together we can figure out how to transcend time.

To be continuumed,

Daniel (my Christian name)
Danny (my family name)
Dan (my Messiah College name)
Web, Webby, Webs, (my Uniontown name)
DJ Web (Pete Corning name)