these words should be free, unshackled, without form and rising out of a void like creation from chaos and a big bang. instead the visions arrange themselves around the language of pauses in commas semicolons and sighs. oft repeated. same words, same vision, same nightmare, same color.
the words inside are wilder than the strange winds that whirl around the unsuspecting soul caught in a pillar of lust impervious to everything but the sense of touch. Or the thought and vision of it.
these words surround you and hold you captive in their silence. for right now the only answer is to ignore these alphabet conjugations and forget what you see in the spaces and the shadows.
For what do you see but the words stifled by hauntings of hands that traced letters and secrets and drew patterns on your body? What do you see? Too many words you wrote on the other's skin, that now there can be no more?
Thursday, August 31, 2006
shadow play behind closed eyes
What do you see when you close your eyes? Do you see what I see? And if you do, tell me - how do you sleep at night, if you sleep at all? And if you sleep, how do you keep yourself from gettin trapped in a nightmare, from screaming and waking up in fear?
This worries me - if you don't see what I see, then are the visions that keep you awake worse than the colors and the gray that torments me? Is it a longer shadow? A darker, colder fear? Then I am the weak one, for giving in to my lesser nightmare, for waking in a cold sweat from a more bearable fire.
And i am ashamed.
This worries me - if you don't see what I see, then are the visions that keep you awake worse than the colors and the gray that torments me? Is it a longer shadow? A darker, colder fear? Then I am the weak one, for giving in to my lesser nightmare, for waking in a cold sweat from a more bearable fire.
And i am ashamed.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
On Writing (and Not Writing)
scribble. why do i write? b'cuz its a visual form of speech? so are the blank pages a direct result of silence?
Sunday, August 27, 2006
a place where the bridge doesn't burn...
...cuz there wasn't a bridge?
Just a river flowing by, running by, as if it desperately had someplace to go to, someone to meet. And the sound of the water as it hits the shoreline- 'wish-wash, wish-wash...' yeah, you wish and and you wish and then it gets washed away. All that remains is mud.
This place is quiet. I am alone - there's just the river, the wind and the sky. And the birds for company. Night approaches and brings along a gentle rain. No stars. Not a single star. And thoughts go dark...
There is the temptation to walk into the water, or to walk away and never return. Then I suddenly see a kingfisher and forget the thought. Temporarily. I toy with the idea - on and off. Every movement is a fight against it, for though the mind is dead and has given up, the body wants to survive. In moments like these, you realize they are separate entities...and you know if the body gets too tired to fight, then walkin into the river is...no longer an option, but an action already taken.
Darkness is here. And even if there were a bridge, I wouldn't have been able to see it. I still can't see it. So now I just will myself not to look for it, tell myself to forget looking for it for there is none. And try to just breathe...one breath at a time.
Just a river flowing by, running by, as if it desperately had someplace to go to, someone to meet. And the sound of the water as it hits the shoreline- 'wish-wash, wish-wash...' yeah, you wish and and you wish and then it gets washed away. All that remains is mud.
This place is quiet. I am alone - there's just the river, the wind and the sky. And the birds for company. Night approaches and brings along a gentle rain. No stars. Not a single star. And thoughts go dark...
There is the temptation to walk into the water, or to walk away and never return. Then I suddenly see a kingfisher and forget the thought. Temporarily. I toy with the idea - on and off. Every movement is a fight against it, for though the mind is dead and has given up, the body wants to survive. In moments like these, you realize they are separate entities...and you know if the body gets too tired to fight, then walkin into the river is...no longer an option, but an action already taken.
Darkness is here. And even if there were a bridge, I wouldn't have been able to see it. I still can't see it. So now I just will myself not to look for it, tell myself to forget looking for it for there is none. And try to just breathe...one breath at a time.
Stillborn
If words could kill a person, break down a life, can't it also define one, make it whole? For God is in the words; or is he in the spaces between the letters and the lines of text, holding it all together so we can make sense out of it? Then by tearing apart these words, do we break God into bits?
I try, I tear, I try again
and it doesn't make sense,
I tear it all apart
and then there is great silence.
But no peace. No peace.
So I save a sentence a word a syllable
in a sigh
and it tears apart something inside
giving birth to
stillborn screams.
Do I dare try again?
I try, I tear, I try again
and it doesn't make sense,
I tear it all apart
and then there is great silence.
But no peace. No peace.
So I save a sentence a word a syllable
in a sigh
and it tears apart something inside
giving birth to
stillborn screams.
Do I dare try again?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Why I asked you for an autumn leaf...
When I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die.
- The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison
So would you then pick up that dying leaf and breathe life and color into its veins? For me?
- The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison
So would you then pick up that dying leaf and breathe life and color into its veins? For me?
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Colors
Let me tell you about colors.
First came yellow. Bright golden sand in the afternoon sun, the sun white-hot, the sand golden, changing shades every second, a distraction...The color of light. When you see people in this color, you can trust them.
Blue. A lovely word that rolls off your tongue, a lovely color, a piece of sky. This you can stare at forever without taking your eyes off for a minute...
Red. Lust. Love. Loss. Blood. Passion. A rose by any other name?? This is a color that once you're smeared in it, there's no way you can get it off you. Or get it off the canvas. There it will remain under all the other colors you've painted over it to hide the shade. Other colors change when mixed with this one - you'd get wine red, lavender, lilac...so you need to be sure of what color you need. And deal with red in your own way. Blood congeals. The bruises change from red to purple to brown to yellow and disappear. Disappear. Maybe.
Black. Night. The color of a certain kind of fear.
Oh, other fears are orange-red. This is the fear that you can feel permeating throughout your body, like molten lava...it burns and freezes on you at the same time. The lake of fire. A kind of hell.
First came yellow. Bright golden sand in the afternoon sun, the sun white-hot, the sand golden, changing shades every second, a distraction...The color of light. When you see people in this color, you can trust them.
Blue. A lovely word that rolls off your tongue, a lovely color, a piece of sky. This you can stare at forever without taking your eyes off for a minute...
Red. Lust. Love. Loss. Blood. Passion. A rose by any other name?? This is a color that once you're smeared in it, there's no way you can get it off you. Or get it off the canvas. There it will remain under all the other colors you've painted over it to hide the shade. Other colors change when mixed with this one - you'd get wine red, lavender, lilac...so you need to be sure of what color you need. And deal with red in your own way. Blood congeals. The bruises change from red to purple to brown to yellow and disappear. Disappear. Maybe.
Black. Night. The color of a certain kind of fear.
Oh, other fears are orange-red. This is the fear that you can feel permeating throughout your body, like molten lava...it burns and freezes on you at the same time. The lake of fire. A kind of hell.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Words, Music and Images
In the beginning was the word. Scribbled on walls, you think you are the first to dicover language, not yet aware of those ancient writings on other walls that weighed a life and passed judgement in just four words; not aware of their power. How a woman by changing a single word caused the exile from Eden, and gave a meaning for the word 'loss'.
Here, you just begin to discover, unearth, ascertain, learn...and what do you learn? That words have different meanings based on tone, time, thought, who said or wrote it, ...so you learn that you'd be a fool to trust them...you bend words, it takes on a new guise. And so you learn to tread carefully. You learn there's a virtue in silence.
Then you hear the words, and the sound astounds you, the music gets to you. The haunting has begun. The music haunts the silence you had wrapped around yourself for protection. Its the only way now for others to get through to you. Its the way you think you'd be able to get through...everything. So you teach yourself to listen to the music behind the words that people speak to understand what they really mean. But sometimes, the music is too loud, the words faint, and once again - its a kind of loss.
You make up for this loss with the images that rise in front of your eyes. But this is a last conscious move. For the images become indelible. And most times its not just another pretty picture. Sometimes these are just dark shadows that flit across the room, the spaces in your head. And these may lead to nightmares. Sometimes. Most times. A positive side to this is you don't forget. The downside - you remember...
Here, you just begin to discover, unearth, ascertain, learn...and what do you learn? That words have different meanings based on tone, time, thought, who said or wrote it, ...so you learn that you'd be a fool to trust them...you bend words, it takes on a new guise. And so you learn to tread carefully. You learn there's a virtue in silence.
Then you hear the words, and the sound astounds you, the music gets to you. The haunting has begun. The music haunts the silence you had wrapped around yourself for protection. Its the only way now for others to get through to you. Its the way you think you'd be able to get through...everything. So you teach yourself to listen to the music behind the words that people speak to understand what they really mean. But sometimes, the music is too loud, the words faint, and once again - its a kind of loss.
You make up for this loss with the images that rise in front of your eyes. But this is a last conscious move. For the images become indelible. And most times its not just another pretty picture. Sometimes these are just dark shadows that flit across the room, the spaces in your head. And these may lead to nightmares. Sometimes. Most times. A positive side to this is you don't forget. The downside - you remember...
Friday, July 21, 2006
The Funeral Planner
When I'm dead, and assuming I'm not thrown out to the vultures and there'll be someone around to bury me, here's a list of how I'd want it done. [How I love making lists].
1. Red and black balloons. End of the 'service', please release 'em to the skies dear friends, romans, countrymen. (Did I forget to mention I want to be buried under a tree? Any tree that has red flowers, which will drift and rest on my grave every fall.)
2. Ice-cream. Death by Chocolate. Served to all kind enough to attend. (Folks, I'm real grateful, but not all that grateful - sorry, no booze).
3. Music - now this is difficult. Since I can't make up my mind about this, lets just say rock? No, don't throw stones, just play Everything Burns, In the End, Going Under and Coming Back to Life. In that order. Now those are for me. If you folks want something else, bring your own CDs and dance.
4. Now very important: 2 minute eulogies, I rather listen to the songs from down under than well-thought out lies. (Again, I've assumed someone will want to say something, and that someone will attend. With optimism levels as high as this, I'm goin to have a very long life.)
That's that. Finis. Let me get on with life.
1. Red and black balloons. End of the 'service', please release 'em to the skies dear friends, romans, countrymen. (Did I forget to mention I want to be buried under a tree? Any tree that has red flowers, which will drift and rest on my grave every fall.)
2. Ice-cream. Death by Chocolate. Served to all kind enough to attend. (Folks, I'm real grateful, but not all that grateful - sorry, no booze).
3. Music - now this is difficult. Since I can't make up my mind about this, lets just say rock? No, don't throw stones, just play Everything Burns, In the End, Going Under and Coming Back to Life. In that order. Now those are for me. If you folks want something else, bring your own CDs and dance.
4. Now very important: 2 minute eulogies, I rather listen to the songs from down under than well-thought out lies. (Again, I've assumed someone will want to say something, and that someone will attend. With optimism levels as high as this, I'm goin to have a very long life.)
That's that. Finis. Let me get on with life.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Another Kind of Death
when you feel like you contain nothing
except ashes, smoke and dust
when you stare at walls and realize
that you built them
when you stumble through ancient paths
and clutch only air
when you hear laughter bounce off the floor
and cannot remember how to smile
when you feel the rain on your face
like stings of poison darts
when you see visions of words
fade into shadows in a purple sky
when you know you cannot
give anything in return
when you don't know a thing
except that you can't live
this way
except ashes, smoke and dust
when you stare at walls and realize
that you built them
when you stumble through ancient paths
and clutch only air
when you hear laughter bounce off the floor
and cannot remember how to smile
when you feel the rain on your face
like stings of poison darts
when you see visions of words
fade into shadows in a purple sky
when you know you cannot
give anything in return
when you don't know a thing
except that you can't live
this way
About Death
Yesterday I went for a walk. 4 hours. 2 hours in the light drizzle. Didn't cover much of a distance as I paused now and then, watching the trees, the flowers on the ground; stepped aside to let other pass by, stopped for the cars to whiz by. And a long pause in front of the cemetery on the Dead Zone (as a friend once called it).
No, I didn't go inside, just stopped and stared at the graves - some fondly remembered and smothered with red flowers, yellow flowers, (I don't know anything about flowers, and I don't think the dead care much either); some forgotten, some with elaborate heavy tombstones (to keep the dead from escaping the depths and wandering I suppose), and some with plain slabs of granite...dearly beloved...here lies...born - dead...
Thought of all those dead and gone to some other world, heaven, hell, planet Z, who cares...what kind of lives they must have led, no, more important, what kind of death? Is there a difference in the death of a 20-something and an 80 year old hag? People sigh 'oh but its not fair, he was so young...' and 'oh thank god her suffering has come to an end'.
What I think is that it is just selfishness of people that speaks in both cases - you sigh when a young thing dies, cuz he or she isn't goin to contribute to your household expenses anymore; or if they were wastrels, there is yet the possibility that they would have turned a new leaf and if nothing else, take care of their old and dwindling parents. As for the 80 something who dies, a burden is off their heads, all the expenses and the trauma of taking care of a cantakerous old geezer is over for good.
That's just about it. All the pain you feel is for yourself, cuz what you feel is an amputation - that a person you need to feel needed has left you. Forever. The grim reaper with his sickle chops more than one in a single sweep. You get to keep the scars.
No, I didn't go inside, just stopped and stared at the graves - some fondly remembered and smothered with red flowers, yellow flowers, (I don't know anything about flowers, and I don't think the dead care much either); some forgotten, some with elaborate heavy tombstones (to keep the dead from escaping the depths and wandering I suppose), and some with plain slabs of granite...dearly beloved...here lies...born - dead...
Thought of all those dead and gone to some other world, heaven, hell, planet Z, who cares...what kind of lives they must have led, no, more important, what kind of death? Is there a difference in the death of a 20-something and an 80 year old hag? People sigh 'oh but its not fair, he was so young...' and 'oh thank god her suffering has come to an end'.
What I think is that it is just selfishness of people that speaks in both cases - you sigh when a young thing dies, cuz he or she isn't goin to contribute to your household expenses anymore; or if they were wastrels, there is yet the possibility that they would have turned a new leaf and if nothing else, take care of their old and dwindling parents. As for the 80 something who dies, a burden is off their heads, all the expenses and the trauma of taking care of a cantakerous old geezer is over for good.
That's just about it. All the pain you feel is for yourself, cuz what you feel is an amputation - that a person you need to feel needed has left you. Forever. The grim reaper with his sickle chops more than one in a single sweep. You get to keep the scars.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Pretense
Everything. Including this.
To write or not to write, that is the question. I chose to write. (Please note the past tense). But looking back, I wonder what... e-learning courses that nobody reads, leave alone learns (whoever said instructional design is teaching?), insipid poetry, this blog and another, and not much else...damn, how do I account for these three years of my life??
Ok, I'll break this up - what do I do in a day? (NB: List not exhaustive)
1. 4am: Get out of bed, turn on the music, go to the balcony, wait for the sun
2. 6am: Walk out for a cup of tea.
3. 6.30am: Office
4. 7am - 8pm: Work (On an average. On good days its 5pm, on bad its 10.30pm)
5. Get home (in 1.5 hours after exit from office, whenever that is)
6. Listen to loud music all night, play guitar if I'm in the mood, read 10 pages or an entire book...
Oh, go on long aimless walks...
Sleep - not much.
And in the middle of all this - obscure words emerge, and its very vagueness reveals all I want to hide...it shames me. So I thought a break from words, friends and all the things that matter to me would help. It didn't. Then I thought to bare my soul will be the perfect thing, for who believes what you write anyway? I'm telling you stories. You're the greater fool for reading all this trash.
When despondency seeps into words, its a deluge, there's no such thing as ebbing the flow. Except a fullstop. Like this. And other things. Try punching the wall, real hard, and then type. You'll see.
To write or not to write, that is the question. I chose to write. (Please note the past tense). But looking back, I wonder what... e-learning courses that nobody reads, leave alone learns (whoever said instructional design is teaching?), insipid poetry, this blog and another, and not much else...damn, how do I account for these three years of my life??
Ok, I'll break this up - what do I do in a day? (NB: List not exhaustive)
1. 4am: Get out of bed, turn on the music, go to the balcony, wait for the sun
2. 6am: Walk out for a cup of tea.
3. 6.30am: Office
4. 7am - 8pm: Work (On an average. On good days its 5pm, on bad its 10.30pm)
5. Get home (in 1.5 hours after exit from office, whenever that is)
6. Listen to loud music all night, play guitar if I'm in the mood, read 10 pages or an entire book...
Oh, go on long aimless walks...
Sleep - not much.
And in the middle of all this - obscure words emerge, and its very vagueness reveals all I want to hide...it shames me. So I thought a break from words, friends and all the things that matter to me would help. It didn't. Then I thought to bare my soul will be the perfect thing, for who believes what you write anyway? I'm telling you stories. You're the greater fool for reading all this trash.
When despondency seeps into words, its a deluge, there's no such thing as ebbing the flow. Except a fullstop. Like this. And other things. Try punching the wall, real hard, and then type. You'll see.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
June 15, 2006 - Today's song
Where Can I Hide - Lynn Cooper
where can i run
if i run
you will catch me, i will fall
on my knees
to the saviour of the song
where can i hide
if i hide
you will find me, take me home
where i may praise you
from the footstool of your throne
lead me home...
where can i run
if i run
you will catch me, i will fall
on my knees
to the saviour of the song
where can i hide
if i hide
you will find me, take me home
where i may praise you
from the footstool of your throne
lead me home...
Thursday, June 08, 2006
song for the we(a)k
Thought you had all the answers
to rest your heart upon
but something happens
don't see it coming,
now you can't stop yourself
now you're out there swimming
in the deep
Bird York
to rest your heart upon
but something happens
don't see it coming,
now you can't stop yourself
now you're out there swimming
in the deep
Bird York
Thursday, April 27, 2006
What Can I Say - Brandie Carlile
...just one of those days, seems those days are here to stay.
Look to the clock on the wall,
Hands hardly moving at all.
I can't stand the state that I'm in
Sometimes it feels like the walls closing in
O lord what can I say
I am so sad since you went away
Time time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be
Lord what can I say
Try to bury my troubles away
Drown my sorrows the same way
Seems that no matter how hard I try
It feels like something’s just missing inside
Oh lord what can I say
How many rules can I break
How many lies can I make
How many roads must I turn
To find me a place where the bridge doesn't burn
Look to the clock on the wall,
Hands hardly moving at all.
I can't stand the state that I'm in
Sometimes it feels like the walls closing in
O lord what can I say
I am so sad since you went away
Time time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be
Lord what can I say
Try to bury my troubles away
Drown my sorrows the same way
Seems that no matter how hard I try
It feels like something’s just missing inside
Oh lord what can I say
How many rules can I break
How many lies can I make
How many roads must I turn
To find me a place where the bridge doesn't burn
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Drunk on Music - April 23rd, 2006
The music I love...for the voices, words, and the images they paint in my mind, may be the memories they evoke...or bury. The music I drown in, the words I hide behind, the tunes I keep humming all day all night...
This list will grow with time. So the date. Its for me so that I don't forget...
1. Fallen - Sarah McLachlan
...and the cost was so much more than I could bear...
So don't come around here and tell me I told you so
2. So Far Away - Nickelback
Too long, too late, who was I to make you wait?
Just one chance, just one breath, just in case there's just one left...
3. Everything Burns - Anastacia and Ben Moody
This one for the images of fire and darkness, I see lamps swinging from the ceiling, their fire dying,...no, suddenly extinguished,...papers burning, and a silhoutte of a man playing a guitar, surrounded by flames.
4. My Immortal - Evanescence
The version I love is the one that explodes with drums...heard it for the first time on a cold January night in Bangalore...
5. When I'm Gone - Michael Schenker
When I'm gone baby, who's gonna hold you from dark until dawn?> ... oh, I don't know.
6. How Do I Live - Trisha Yearwood
...I don't know that too.
7. High Hopes - Pink Floyd
8. Coming Back To Life - Pink Floyd
9. The Show Must Go On - Pink Floyd
10. Learning to Fly - Pink Floyd
Ok, enough of Floyd, I'd have to start listing entire albums. Reasons, well, too many. Ditto for Dylan.
11. The Promise, Change - Tracy Chapman
Aah, the voice, the emotion she renders to these songs...
12. When You Say You Love Me,... - Josh Groban
It's always about the voice, isn't it?
13. Wait For Sleep - Dream Theater
The piano, the words,...and God give me the power to take breath from a breeze
And call life from a cold metal frame
14. You and Me - Lifehouse
Just this:
What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time
15. River - Joni Mitchell
I wish I had a river, I could skate away... beautiful.
16. Dreams, Zombie (acoustic version), Promises, Dying in the Sun - Cranberries
Maybe we should burn the house down
Have ourselves another fight
Leave the cobwebs in the closet
'Cuz tearing them out is just not right.
Her voice, my god...
17. Broken - Amy Lee with Seether
Yeah, the guitar, drums and voices.
This list will grow with time. So the date. Its for me so that I don't forget...
1. Fallen - Sarah McLachlan
...and the cost was so much more than I could bear...
So don't come around here and tell me I told you so
2. So Far Away - Nickelback
Too long, too late, who was I to make you wait?
Just one chance, just one breath, just in case there's just one left...
3. Everything Burns - Anastacia and Ben Moody
This one for the images of fire and darkness, I see lamps swinging from the ceiling, their fire dying,...no, suddenly extinguished,...papers burning, and a silhoutte of a man playing a guitar, surrounded by flames.
4. My Immortal - Evanescence
The version I love is the one that explodes with drums...heard it for the first time on a cold January night in Bangalore...
5. When I'm Gone - Michael Schenker
When I'm gone baby, who's gonna hold you from dark until dawn?> ... oh, I don't know.
6. How Do I Live - Trisha Yearwood
...I don't know that too.
7. High Hopes - Pink Floyd
8. Coming Back To Life - Pink Floyd
9. The Show Must Go On - Pink Floyd
10. Learning to Fly - Pink Floyd
Ok, enough of Floyd, I'd have to start listing entire albums. Reasons, well, too many. Ditto for Dylan.
11. The Promise, Change - Tracy Chapman
Aah, the voice, the emotion she renders to these songs...
12. When You Say You Love Me,... - Josh Groban
It's always about the voice, isn't it?
13. Wait For Sleep - Dream Theater
The piano, the words,...and God give me the power to take breath from a breeze
And call life from a cold metal frame
14. You and Me - Lifehouse
Just this:
What day is it
And in what month
This clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time
15. River - Joni Mitchell
I wish I had a river, I could skate away... beautiful.
16. Dreams, Zombie (acoustic version), Promises, Dying in the Sun - Cranberries
Maybe we should burn the house down
Have ourselves another fight
Leave the cobwebs in the closet
'Cuz tearing them out is just not right.
Her voice, my god...
17. Broken - Amy Lee with Seether
Yeah, the guitar, drums and voices.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Language
Strange that someone whose life is governed by words should refuse to learn a new language.
But if they know your language, why would they speak another to you knowing very well you don't understand?
Stranger, go away, there's no room for you here, no room for your words. We fill our spaces with words we know. We do not need yours.
But if they know your language, why would they speak another to you knowing very well you don't understand?
Stranger, go away, there's no room for you here, no room for your words. We fill our spaces with words we know. We do not need yours.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Morons
Rules of the game:
1. Put yourself in the learner's shoes and design a course.
2. Assume that the learner is a moron and doesn't know a thing about elearning.
Conclusion: Assume you are a moron.
Now that should be easy. Then why do most elearning courses suck? And if they do, then obviously point 1 or 2 (or both) is(are) wrong.
#1. Stepping into someone's shoes
And walk 2 miles in 'em. Or the whole way in this case.
Problems:
1. What road is he gonna take - race track, sidewalk, or a dirt track?
2. What pace - a walk in the park, run in bursts, or sprint thru to the destination?
3. Is he gonna walk at all or hitch-hike at some time, or take a bus, car or flight?
Answers:
1. You're goin to build the road, so might as well do good landscaping. Or is that additional effort, he could be running thru and hardly be bothered with the view, just concerned about the quality of the track.
So, good track (ideal for walking or running) + decent view (for those breaks, just don't make it so good that he would rather sit and stare).
2. For strollers - They don't care the path they take to reach their destination. So here, signboards to Turn Right, or Click Next is of no consequence. These may also be the ones to venture into all parts of your course. So, presentation is king.
For runners (both sprinters and those who take breaks) - Now they would need occassional pointers to where to go. A word about sprinters: for all you know, they'd just keep clicking the Next button and complete your course. To make these guys stop and see, design the landscape, or your content screens accordingly. Yeah, I'd stare at a Van Gogh for hours, but someone else may find Picasso as engaging. (So every screen a masterpiece of a different genre? Once again, presentation.)
So now what?
Design a course that is:
1. Easy to navigate, with clear instructions to the learner. Spell it out, or design intuitive markers. They may or may not make use of it, you never know.
2. Presented logically and aesthetically. With or without activities for the learner.
How many of us just observe and learn? Do we really need to try something out? Yes, if only to prove us right and them wrong. Just to know. So why make a rule out of this, with the excuse that with time the learner would get bored? We get just as bored when we do something, are doing something, or done with it.
So if your content is meaningful and presented well, it should hold the learner's attention. Without having to ask him to try an activity. Just like any good novel.
Enough said about this. Could go on forever. So let's get to the 2nd assumption.
#2. Assume your learner is a moron
Now this is something I heard two of my colleagues (morons?) say about three times a day, in the last two days. Perhaps they were trying to tell me something? Oh, moron that I am!
Anyway, who are we to judge? Once you put yourself into a learner's shoes, then you become the moron. Do you want to? I don't. What gives you the right to put limitations on anybody's ability to learn? Yes, not everyone has an IQ of 130, but everybody learns. Even a lunatic learns that a certain behavior won't get a desired effect in the course of time. Raving and ranting turns to apathy. and vice versa. or alternates. Whatever.
The point is, if you are designing courses for corporates who wish to train their employees on certain skills, they are not going to be complete duds. About the subject, maybe. But not in terms of the ability to learn.
Even if the learner is new to elearning, it doesn't in any way diminish this factor. Presented with an environment/ interface where he is goin to learn, he IS going to figure out a way to go about it. Unless of course, he doesn't want to.
Now about the content, how basic are you goin to keep it, despite your content analysis, entry behaviors and other wierder terms (who came up with these anyway?)? I feel as long as the stuff you are goin to teach is complete and not make it some dangling conversation, its alright. Even the Unfinished Symphony is beautiful.
About the amount of content on screen - now this depends. Some people like to have their space and some don't mind. So again, why make a rule of 100 words on screen, 7 bullet points and so on with the excuse that that's how much of information is what a person can process? Its not about word count, its the reason you give for the word count. (If we could understand just 7 bullets at a given time, little wonder the 10 commandments are not much of a success.
The point of this whole rambling thing is just this: elearning sucks b'cuz of all these rules, and the reasons they put behind it. And the morons who design it.
1. Put yourself in the learner's shoes and design a course.
2. Assume that the learner is a moron and doesn't know a thing about elearning.
Conclusion: Assume you are a moron.
Now that should be easy. Then why do most elearning courses suck? And if they do, then obviously point 1 or 2 (or both) is(are) wrong.
#1. Stepping into someone's shoes
And walk 2 miles in 'em. Or the whole way in this case.
Problems:
1. What road is he gonna take - race track, sidewalk, or a dirt track?
2. What pace - a walk in the park, run in bursts, or sprint thru to the destination?
3. Is he gonna walk at all or hitch-hike at some time, or take a bus, car or flight?
Answers:
1. You're goin to build the road, so might as well do good landscaping. Or is that additional effort, he could be running thru and hardly be bothered with the view, just concerned about the quality of the track.
So, good track (ideal for walking or running) + decent view (for those breaks, just don't make it so good that he would rather sit and stare).
2. For strollers - They don't care the path they take to reach their destination. So here, signboards to Turn Right, or Click Next is of no consequence. These may also be the ones to venture into all parts of your course. So, presentation is king.
For runners (both sprinters and those who take breaks) - Now they would need occassional pointers to where to go. A word about sprinters: for all you know, they'd just keep clicking the Next button and complete your course. To make these guys stop and see, design the landscape, or your content screens accordingly. Yeah, I'd stare at a Van Gogh for hours, but someone else may find Picasso as engaging. (So every screen a masterpiece of a different genre? Once again, presentation.)
So now what?
Design a course that is:
1. Easy to navigate, with clear instructions to the learner. Spell it out, or design intuitive markers. They may or may not make use of it, you never know.
2. Presented logically and aesthetically. With or without activities for the learner.
How many of us just observe and learn? Do we really need to try something out? Yes, if only to prove us right and them wrong. Just to know. So why make a rule out of this, with the excuse that with time the learner would get bored? We get just as bored when we do something, are doing something, or done with it.
So if your content is meaningful and presented well, it should hold the learner's attention. Without having to ask him to try an activity. Just like any good novel.
Enough said about this. Could go on forever. So let's get to the 2nd assumption.
#2. Assume your learner is a moron
Now this is something I heard two of my colleagues (morons?) say about three times a day, in the last two days. Perhaps they were trying to tell me something? Oh, moron that I am!
Anyway, who are we to judge? Once you put yourself into a learner's shoes, then you become the moron. Do you want to? I don't. What gives you the right to put limitations on anybody's ability to learn? Yes, not everyone has an IQ of 130, but everybody learns. Even a lunatic learns that a certain behavior won't get a desired effect in the course of time. Raving and ranting turns to apathy. and vice versa. or alternates. Whatever.
The point is, if you are designing courses for corporates who wish to train their employees on certain skills, they are not going to be complete duds. About the subject, maybe. But not in terms of the ability to learn.
Even if the learner is new to elearning, it doesn't in any way diminish this factor. Presented with an environment/ interface where he is goin to learn, he IS going to figure out a way to go about it. Unless of course, he doesn't want to.
Now about the content, how basic are you goin to keep it, despite your content analysis, entry behaviors and other wierder terms (who came up with these anyway?)? I feel as long as the stuff you are goin to teach is complete and not make it some dangling conversation, its alright. Even the Unfinished Symphony is beautiful.
About the amount of content on screen - now this depends. Some people like to have their space and some don't mind. So again, why make a rule of 100 words on screen, 7 bullet points and so on with the excuse that that's how much of information is what a person can process? Its not about word count, its the reason you give for the word count. (If we could understand just 7 bullets at a given time, little wonder the 10 commandments are not much of a success.
The point of this whole rambling thing is just this: elearning sucks b'cuz of all these rules, and the reasons they put behind it. And the morons who design it.
About Instructional Design and Cell Phones
What do learners want? Accuracy of content, attractive user interface, functionality, usability, all of the above, none of the above? Maybe what we need to do is a survey - NOT what they want, there are plenty of figures and percentages floating around; but about what cell phones they use (or given a choice would they use one).
Disclaimer: The author is proud to flaunt his/ her ignorance about cell phone specifics. Don't know a damn thing about my phone other than it rings and beeps.
Think about the number of cell phone models in today's market. Then think about the expiry date for these. Now think about the number of people who carry around the latest models AND say 'The first Nokia (some ancient model) I owned was the best,(long sigh), they don't make phones like that anymore'. Ask them why, and here's what you'd hear:
1. Man, it was a weapon, if someone makes a wrong move, I could knock 'em down flat with my phone. Potential assaulter immobilised, hehe.
(Note, most delicate young things state this reason first. I have yet to meet a young thing who's put this in action. Reader, if u do, let me know if mobile was functional post-immobilising creeps).
2. Life was simple. People used phones to talk to people and in some cases, text them to let 'em know ur waitin', late, or playin' dead. Now I can take photographs of the lust of my life without him/ her knowing, transfer data from my office comp, and so on... but hey, i could get photographed too, my data could be stolen...damn.
3. Usability. Bigger screen size, font size, keypad size,...phone size. Enough about sizes. But my mother knows exactly when I need money for bills, she can't say 'honey i couldn't read ur message.'
4. Strength. These days the cell phones are so flimsy, I got 2 replacements in as many months...yes, I keep dropping it(and yes, I have money too, thank god). My old phone, I could throw it in frustration, and it would work, it still works (yes, I have it, no point selling). Also refer point 1.
Now over to those dudes and dudettes and hip and happening aunties, uncles and spoilt kids with the latest gizmos, about why they love their phones and not think twice about bartering their loves for the price of a kiss and more:
1. Its cool, here, take a look.
(...yeaaah, okkaay)
2. I can download books, music, cindy crawford, and whatever else.
(Books? I carry mine with me too, in my bag, four books, infact. Can you store 4 books?Alright, that day may come too... I'll just get a bigger bag.
Music...hmm can you listen to music, read your book, and make a call from your cell all at the same time?
Cindy Crawford? I have a door-size poster of Clint Eastwood who watches me eat, sleep and whatever else).
3. I get bored fast, I need a new handset every 2 weeks.
(Its a phone for gods sake, I get to replace better things when I get bored, what do you have, same contact list on a different interface? I get new contacts).
Let's now get to instructional design. Finally. For those people with preferences for old but reliable, good looking but inefficient, aesthetic and functional, minimalistic, jazzy and so on phones.
There is no standard.(and you thought I was goin to let you on to something profound?) Somebody take this survey and I'll interpolate and map it for elearning. Different phones for different folks. But then here's a start with the cliched, overused question...
1. What is your objective? Is it:
a. Just to teach core skills? (to phone or not to phone, that is the question)
b. To present content in a logical manner, just where the learner would expect it, no surprises? (usability, functionality and content sequencing - your easy access to your contact list. Also, its all about sizes - fonts mind you).
c. To attract your learners to go thru your course atleast on a 'Click Next' basis, not much focus on content? (Its all about looks honey...hey what's that feature called "Extras' for?)
d. To present and teach stuff, that is, create a visually appealing, usable, functional and relevant experience? (aah the killer, you can't please everyone all the time - is there a phone where I can select the features that I would want to use and delete the rest?)
Now that's it. To create a course with a blend of functionalities, levels of interactivity that the learner can opt for, color schemes for interfaces (not everyone loves black, but then you'd be surprised), content, I could go on - everything optional.
To learn or unlearn thru elearning... atleast I don't have to kneel down for hours outside my class for not completing that assignment.
Final word: I would love to throw my cell phone, but if I got to inform someone about my impending suicide, just don't let my network be jammed. Who cares what cell phone I use?
Disclaimer: The author is proud to flaunt his/ her ignorance about cell phone specifics. Don't know a damn thing about my phone other than it rings and beeps.
Think about the number of cell phone models in today's market. Then think about the expiry date for these. Now think about the number of people who carry around the latest models AND say 'The first Nokia (some ancient model) I owned was the best,(long sigh), they don't make phones like that anymore'. Ask them why, and here's what you'd hear:
1. Man, it was a weapon, if someone makes a wrong move, I could knock 'em down flat with my phone. Potential assaulter immobilised, hehe.
(Note, most delicate young things state this reason first. I have yet to meet a young thing who's put this in action. Reader, if u do, let me know if mobile was functional post-immobilising creeps).
2. Life was simple. People used phones to talk to people and in some cases, text them to let 'em know ur waitin', late, or playin' dead. Now I can take photographs of the lust of my life without him/ her knowing, transfer data from my office comp, and so on... but hey, i could get photographed too, my data could be stolen...damn.
3. Usability. Bigger screen size, font size, keypad size,...phone size. Enough about sizes. But my mother knows exactly when I need money for bills, she can't say 'honey i couldn't read ur message.'
4. Strength. These days the cell phones are so flimsy, I got 2 replacements in as many months...yes, I keep dropping it(and yes, I have money too, thank god). My old phone, I could throw it in frustration, and it would work, it still works (yes, I have it, no point selling). Also refer point 1.
Now over to those dudes and dudettes and hip and happening aunties, uncles and spoilt kids with the latest gizmos, about why they love their phones and not think twice about bartering their loves for the price of a kiss and more:
1. Its cool, here, take a look.
(...yeaaah, okkaay)
2. I can download books, music, cindy crawford, and whatever else.
(Books? I carry mine with me too, in my bag, four books, infact. Can you store 4 books?Alright, that day may come too... I'll just get a bigger bag.
Music...hmm can you listen to music, read your book, and make a call from your cell all at the same time?
Cindy Crawford? I have a door-size poster of Clint Eastwood who watches me eat, sleep and whatever else).
3. I get bored fast, I need a new handset every 2 weeks.
(Its a phone for gods sake, I get to replace better things when I get bored, what do you have, same contact list on a different interface? I get new contacts).
Let's now get to instructional design. Finally. For those people with preferences for old but reliable, good looking but inefficient, aesthetic and functional, minimalistic, jazzy and so on phones.
There is no standard.(and you thought I was goin to let you on to something profound?) Somebody take this survey and I'll interpolate and map it for elearning. Different phones for different folks. But then here's a start with the cliched, overused question...
1. What is your objective? Is it:
a. Just to teach core skills? (to phone or not to phone, that is the question)
b. To present content in a logical manner, just where the learner would expect it, no surprises? (usability, functionality and content sequencing - your easy access to your contact list. Also, its all about sizes - fonts mind you).
c. To attract your learners to go thru your course atleast on a 'Click Next' basis, not much focus on content? (Its all about looks honey...hey what's that feature called "Extras' for?)
d. To present and teach stuff, that is, create a visually appealing, usable, functional and relevant experience? (aah the killer, you can't please everyone all the time - is there a phone where I can select the features that I would want to use and delete the rest?)
Now that's it. To create a course with a blend of functionalities, levels of interactivity that the learner can opt for, color schemes for interfaces (not everyone loves black, but then you'd be surprised), content, I could go on - everything optional.
To learn or unlearn thru elearning... atleast I don't have to kneel down for hours outside my class for not completing that assignment.
Final word: I would love to throw my cell phone, but if I got to inform someone about my impending suicide, just don't let my network be jammed. Who cares what cell phone I use?
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Anatomy of a Dream - 1
The dreams return. He senses it, it slowly fills whatever spaces he forgot to cram with useless, albeit, safer thoughts, before he lay down. Yet even in the wakeful approach to slumber, he realizes there's nothing, nothing he can do to fight those insidious images designed to decimate all memories of happier moments.
What of happiness? A state of mind that sacrifices itself on the altars of its birth, rising like the phoenix over and over...and dying, burning as many times.
In his dreams, he sees this: a moon, smiling, and then a tear falling into an empty desert. And the whispering wind gathers strength and builds sand columns around his inert body. He cannot move, he cannot scream, even if he could, where would he run, who would hear him? Fear rises. He knows this fear, knows it too well. Its color torments him, an orange-red formation, spreading on steel gray skies, stained tomato juice on sheets.
Watercolors appear in the wind, surrounds him, they burst into flame, again, orange-red fear. His memories ablaze, return to burn him in his sleep, this must be hell, this is what it is like to be consumed. The sun falls on water and breaks into a million suns, turning the waters to blood, to wine, and Moses who rose from the Nile now drowns in the red sea. There's no walking on this water.
In this liquid inferno, he sees words rising, sending smoke signals to his eyes straining in darkness...yes, darkness in fire. He reaches out to touch them, to know its nature. He always could tell by touch what is true and what is false, this is how he reads people too. Most people look at another's eyes for truth, trust, and love. But he runs his open palm on their faces, as if their true colors seep through to his fingertips and mesh with the myriad lines, his lines of heart, head and fate.
The rising words, he touches, and they enter him, weave a web of...he is not sure what, but it encompasses him in the flames. Now all he needs to do is to protect his hands. He needs to escape the flames. Else he will lose these words, his only rainbow.
What of happiness? A state of mind that sacrifices itself on the altars of its birth, rising like the phoenix over and over...and dying, burning as many times.
In his dreams, he sees this: a moon, smiling, and then a tear falling into an empty desert. And the whispering wind gathers strength and builds sand columns around his inert body. He cannot move, he cannot scream, even if he could, where would he run, who would hear him? Fear rises. He knows this fear, knows it too well. Its color torments him, an orange-red formation, spreading on steel gray skies, stained tomato juice on sheets.
Watercolors appear in the wind, surrounds him, they burst into flame, again, orange-red fear. His memories ablaze, return to burn him in his sleep, this must be hell, this is what it is like to be consumed. The sun falls on water and breaks into a million suns, turning the waters to blood, to wine, and Moses who rose from the Nile now drowns in the red sea. There's no walking on this water.
In this liquid inferno, he sees words rising, sending smoke signals to his eyes straining in darkness...yes, darkness in fire. He reaches out to touch them, to know its nature. He always could tell by touch what is true and what is false, this is how he reads people too. Most people look at another's eyes for truth, trust, and love. But he runs his open palm on their faces, as if their true colors seep through to his fingertips and mesh with the myriad lines, his lines of heart, head and fate.
The rising words, he touches, and they enter him, weave a web of...he is not sure what, but it encompasses him in the flames. Now all he needs to do is to protect his hands. He needs to escape the flames. Else he will lose these words, his only rainbow.
Variations on the Word 'Sleep'
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
-- Margaret Atwood
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
-- Margaret Atwood
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