Quotes from What Should I do with My Life by Po Bronson

"'Fear is like a wound within our emotions'...You heal a fear much like you heal a cut on your hand. If you ignore the cut, it will get infected. But it will heal itself if you pay attention to it and give it time." (Bronson 6)

"Beware of happiness chasing. The higher standard (and it's not for everybody) is to ask, Is doing__why I am here? Will__be meaningful to me? Is__what I want to contribute to the world?" (295)

For all those humanity-type people

This choice calls for confidence, perhaps more than some of us feel right now. And that brings me back, perhaps too abruptly, to the thing that most deeply defines and concerns us: language. Advanced expertise in reading, writing, speaking, comprehending, exploring, explaining language—this is our work. We know about this, about language used well, badly, honestly, manipulatively, in the name of self-interest, self-realization, collective identities, common goods, in struggles for revelation or in numbing repetitive distraction. We are aware of the immense social, moral, political, and psychological stakes that the public use of language carries. We know the rewards of complex texts, where depth of understanding is created by layering, texture, rhythm, and nuance, by the soaring of the imagination on an image or a phrase, by violence and unease where histories of struggle and discord leave their marks. We know the difficulty and value of learning to operate in multiple languages, not just in the everyday, but in deep contact with texts and psychic and symbolic worlds other than one’s own. We know about the vast archives in dozens of languages, ancient and modern, that will be lost forever if we don’t continue to produce expert, committed readers of them. It is important to recognize and honor these achievements among ourselves and assert them in the public eye. We can’t cede to spin doctors the profound realization that language creates reality and history. We can’t cede to security experts the imperative for developing multilingual expertise. Perhaps these are things we scholars of language and literature need to keep in our own minds and the minds of our fellow citizens as we navigate these troubling times.

MARY LOUISE PRATT--The author is Silver Professor of Spanish and Portuguese at New York University and 2003 President of the Modern Language Association. A version of the article was originally presented at the 2003 ADE-ADFL Summer Seminar West in Snowbird, Utah.

It was a good summer...

I remember:

basking in cool humid-free mornings and evenings, sleeping on the porch, gazing up at the tall skinny trees, surfing at sunset and in the early morn, scarfing ridiculously too much food then taking a siesta and playing ball tag on days-off, navigating the winding-deer-infested road, watching the World Cup, touting around our mascot Herbert the Stuffed Dragon, scurrying all over the place for supplies, hanging off the side of a cliff in Montana, searching frantically through nasty garbage cans, digging holes and making every imaginable piece of furniture out of sand, doing rock/water yoga, parasailing over bright blue water and deep green foliage, creating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at line call, attempting to learn the life guarding dive, being inspired by the courage and spirit of my blind campers, rappelling from trees, hiding in pirate garb with hoards of other gals chanting together "yo, ho, we yo ho," FINALLY learning how to play truco (gracias Phil!!), admiring my cheerful families, being attacked and smeared with inches and inches of pudding and dirt, and then hosed by a fire truck; gasping over otters, beavers, birds of prey, and deep purple canyons while rafting; swimming through fat free salsa, skidding around the ball field in the golf cart, playing the jimbae, being pelted by and pelting balls during Medic, listening to a lot of Coldplay, laughing at the office boys, indulging in Otter Pops and soy chocolate Silk, driving the short bus, sailing at three knots, getting tippy in the Air Skiff Nautique, watching from afar the magic of a shooting star fly over a tent of a couple just engaged, having quality campfire conversations, being a part of nightly circles of song, learning about the "One Way" of purpose and grace

meeting friendly Canadians, sleeping under a picnic table and a tarp during a rain storm, observing wild goats, elk, marmots, and caribou(?) in Banff; hiking in the rain surrounded by gorgeous glaciers up to a Buddhist-flagged tea house; playing guitar while our Ramen cooked on a wood stove, spotting berried grizzly scat (after having slept without a tent between two berry bushes), crossing the continental divide, dipping in Radium thermal pools

flying over the Cascades, exploring Pikes Place Market: visiting the first Starbucks, smelling flowers, spitting seeds from Rainier cherries, seeing a monk fish in real life, learning the art of seafood tossing, watching an amazing card manipulator, and drinking tasty Thai tea; coveting the flexible flips and turns of river and sea otters at the aquarium, my friends and I having our picture taken at the Space Needle without the top of the needle; watching a kid biff it near the UFO fountain, being nerdy in the Science Fiction Museum, and reaping the benefits from the super secret corner of REI

Western Nostalgia

Letting go and not beating myself up


What's happened in the past is gone


There's nothing that can change what has passed


But there is hope for a different fantastic future



I was going to copy a sad piece of poetry I'd written months ago


Let it be private for me alone to rehash and open those wounds that


I've been reopening for too long



But maybe it's time to be honest and open that


Idon't ever seem to go as the crow flies


And thatI put myself down every time I realize it.


Satan knows I cut myself the deepest



But God can heal and He gives us second chances.


He can send amazing people more than once into our lives.


He wants us to be happy.


And maybe the second time I'll be ready.


I can more easily trust who I am:


No strong personality can make me question it,


No tragedy should make me let go of it.



So I mustfinish writingthis massive, agonizing chapter of my life,


And believe in God, in hope, in second, third, and even fourthchances--


I must.


Life still has length and with God's help I still can be who I want to be


Whom He wants me to be.


Long ago I tasted and saw that He was real and that "He wants men everywhere to search for Him with all their hearts, and if they do so, they will find Him, because He is not far away from any of us."


I'm ready to go back therewofting and peeringever more deeply



I thankGod for patient friends that are willing to be honest with me. I'm also thankful that they have beenwilling to take the effort--sometimes strong effort-- to be friends with me when they could have just let me alone. Even though I have gone through some reallyhorrible, sleep deprived, weepy moments and I know that more will come in the future, I thank God for the amazing blessings and grace that have sustained me and will sustain me.



Even if I never find anyone again, I can still hold to what I believe in, I can still better who I am, I can still have amazing adventures, I can have amazing friends, I can still grow with God, I can still make a difference...and God will continue to sustain me...not just that, He can make my life "more than just okay."

Waterlogged Thoughts

I hate the in between moments of life in which one has to sit around and think, "And what now?" I am the type of person that tries to go full force when I'm involved in something. There are challenges, but a mission as well, so I'm able to power through. The in between times are the ones that get me down, and I know Satan knows this. I don't think I would call this time the "doldrums" so much as the "waiting in an eddy period." With doldrums nothing much is happening until one day finally the wind picks up. For me, I feel like I am sitting in an eddy and life is swishing by really fast with a million lines from which to choose. I have to cross that scary eddy line and hopefully not get swept away to somewhere I don't want to be.

Well, my legs and butt are getting pretty numb because I've been sitting in that dumb eddy for a VERY long time. I'll get out and try to scout the rapids every once and awhile. I'll read navigation and "How to" books. I'll talk to people who have successfully navigated the river in various manners. But still I hesitate because the river is always changing and crossing that darn eddy line is horrifically frightening. Already I fear this hesitation has lost me some significant opportunities, so I pointlessly bang my head against rocks . My head hurts.

Quick Shakedown of Argentina 2006

Hoarg. I have fallen behind once again on my travel writing, so here is a boring outline of our trip that finished about a month ago:

Fished with Don Julian in Corrientes: avoided public strikes blocking the highway, caught a little dorado, ate a lot of food, traveled within 3KM of Paraguay, slept through the Argentina World Cup game (I'm still bitter.), ate a bit more.

Saw Iguazu Falls trickle: went on my first helicopter ride, bought jewelry from Paraguayans, meandered through coati mundies and butterflies, got soaked under San Martin Falls (with our same boat driver as last year!), discovered a spa pool in the Sheraton (with five separate stations), watched part of the Brazil World Cup game, drank Guarana, ate way too much milhojas de dulce de leche.

Got jazzy in Mendoza (I hate that word, "jazzy"): managed to get three taxis lost in the city trying to find Johnny's B&B (I told them it was next to the police station, but discovered that indeed he lives next to the SCIENCE police...hmm), listened to Johnny play the coolest version of a hymn that got him kicked out of the church, translated for our group at the Archelology museum (SOOO much fun!), learned to ski and then snowboarded in northern Patagonia at Las Lenas, went into the high mountains of the Andes and saw Aconcagua!, ate a lot of vegetarian food at The Green Apple.

Became soaked in Colonia, Uruguay: took the ferry, got another stamp in my passport (ha, ha...the real reason), listened in awe to the quick talking Uruguayans, did donuts by the river (and collected sand) and around one of the world's most unusual bull rings (that was never used) in our rented golf cart, drank submarinos and ate fondue.

Tangoed through Buenos Aires: tried to guide my group to see Evita's grave, perused the Latin American Art museum (with paintings by Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, and Lietchenstein on exhibit), shopped at Zara, watched the Argentines celebrate their World Cup victory over Mexico, took family to Cafe Tortoni and then watched the late Tango show, ran through the rain in the San Telmo antique fair and Boca enjoying many submarinos (sort of like hot chocolate) along the way to stay warm, toured and translated in Teatro Colon, and ate at Empire Thai (a tradition) with Martin.

Umm...that's what I can remember off the top of my head--and boy were there a lot of male and female modern mullets this year. As you can tell, the food had a profound impression upon me (just hopefully not too much on my panza). Ah, for a good empanada! sigh.