This journal was originally started on Open Diary, and I moved the entries from Open Diary to here, so if you've found me before on OD... well, they're all the same. I cut and pasted and dated. There are a few differences between them, but not much.
Its name is The Other Side of Silence.
If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. -- George Eliot, Middlemarch
I picked the name for the diary from my favorite George Eliot quote. The other side of silence: that which is loud, which is every day and mundane. I have been noticing, recently, how much does affect us. The squirrel's heartbeat, beating in time. The growth of the grass. The arch of the sky. I hope to escape from the common failing of walking about well wadded in stupidity. This diary is an effort to notice those little things that might otherwise escape us, and for me to muse and indulge my Muse.
Me: I am words and phrases, I am quiet, I am grounded, I am not unhappy. I am not interested in angst. I have not written in too long. Writing and the treatment of words is as natural to me as breathing. I can scarce stand to have a phrase not constructed in a way musical to me and the moment; I indulge in my collections of words and books. My more mundane life finds me working on a help desk, treating the ills and woes of a myriad of computer users in my company, or sending someone else out to help.
More vital statistics: I am a seventh-generation Texan, and a native of Houston. I own two cats, both of whom are very spoiled.