Personification redux

Well, I've certainly found myself down a rabbit hole on this one (a metaphor?!) At Thanksgiving dinner, for some reason conversation veered to a discussion of literary devices.  My language arts teaching niece (Hi Martha!) remarked that personification was the attribution of human characteristics to non-humans.  "Wait," I said, "isn't that anthropomorphism?"  

Googling lead us to this definition of personification:  "the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form."  I associate personification with the second definition, "Hitler was the personification of evil," for instance. I must have in some recess of my mind thought of the first definition, too, which is why I started my last post in that way.  Where does anthropomorphism fit in, then?

Further research lead to this explanation: 

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( https://grammarist.com/usage/personification-vs-anthropomorphism/)

 Personification and anthropomorphism are two literary devices that are somewhat similar, but with a subtle difference. 

 Personification is a literary device that ascribes human attributes to abstract ideas or inanimate objects. The attribution of human characteristics to non-human items through personification is a method of using figurative language to create imagery.

 Anthropomorphism is a literary device that ascribes human actions and attributes to animals or other objects. Anthropomorphism is used simply to make an animal or object behave as if it were a human being.

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 The most common example for personification seems to be "The sun smiled down on us."  While the most common example for anthropomorphism is Bagheera from The Jungle Book, or Mickey Mouse (the educational resources tend towards the Jungle Book, while other sources go right for Mickey or Peter Rabbit.)

Given those examples, my first description of thinking of my washing machine as being too tired to do a fifth load is probably closer to personification than anthropomorphism after all.  Perhaps if I had tried to wash that bedspread and the washing machine failed to complete the cycle, I could have said, "My washing machine said it was too tired."  (anthropomorphism) But, if I say my machine is tired then I've ascribed that human attribute to the machine. (personification)

 

 

 However, along the way I also discovered "pathetic fallacy," which seems to be personification applied to nature, specifically. 

The phrase pathetic fallacy is a literary term for the attribution of human emotion and conduct to things found in nature that are not human. It is a kind of personification that occurs in poetic descriptions, when, for example, clouds seem sullen, when leaves dance, or when rocks seem indifferent. 

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pathetic_fallacy

 I'll end by saying that these are all considered literary devices, so perhaps I shouldn't lay claim to having used any of them!!

And, that's where Thanksgiving dinners can take you.

 

 

 

 

Personification (Anthropomorphizication?)

 Yesterday was an unusually heavy laundry day for me. I had put it off a bit longer than normal and had some added towels and sheets in addition to the regular clothes.  I still had one more thing to wash, my "summer" weight bedspread (I've made the switch to my warmer duvet for the winter, a choice I was somewhat regretting last night when I woke up at 2 am too warm...).  Anyway. after washing, drying and folding the four loads I thought, "I should let the washing machine rest, it's worked hard today. I'll save the bedspread for another day."  

What?! Since when did I start worrying about the feelings of my washing machine??!!  I hope it appreciates my thoughtfulness and repays me someday.

* I knew when I wrote this yesterday that "personification" was not the right word, but I wasn't in the mood to look up the exact spelling of "anthropomorphic" and whether "anthropomorphizication" or "anthropomorphicization" were even a words (they appear not to be).  But, last night at 2 am when I kicked off my too warm duvet, it bothered me that the three people who may at some point read this post would think that I had a poor command of English.  I remember in middle school our art teacher made us break our clay pots because anthropologists of the future might dig them up and draw incorrect inferences about our culture.  If the posts on the Internet are preserved for centuries, I wouldn't want some future linguist to puzzle over my use of the term "personification."

Last Days

My term as dean is done!

In the 1950s, social scientists observed that as people aged they seemed to be less socially engaged.  Psychologists used that observation to develop disengagement theory in gerontology, the notion that aging brings about an inevitable retreat from social interaction in preparation for death. When I first started studying gerontology in the late 1980s there was considerable criticism of this theory. Rather than disengagement being voluntary or inevitable, it was the result of social structures that devalued age and limited opportunities. People didn't want to disengage, they were forced to.

Today is my last day as dean. (Technically it is Sunday and I turned in my keys yesterday, so I'm not in the office today.)  It occurred to me that over the last few weeks, months really, I had been slowly disengaging from that role. I gleefully removed scheduled meetings from my calendar, advised people to send their emails elsewhere, and cleaned up my office and files. People have stopped by to thank me or, more often, to ask for one last favor. There were some tears yesterday as I said goodbye to my budget manager with whom I've worked the whole 8 years. We have shared many crises and triumphs. But, overall, the last day was not as traumatic as I might have imagined.  In many ways, I stopped seeing myself as the dean a long time ago.

Maybe disengagement is not so bad after all.

Demarcations

 I've been thinking lately of how we move from one state of being to another.  Sometimes the timing of hte change is very discrete--a marriage, birth of a child, starting a job.  But what about the changes that are not so clearly marked.

Ten weeks ago I had a major surgery.  I got differing advice on how long it would take to "recover."  Some said one week for every hour of surgery, some said one month for every hour.  The doctor said I'd feel better "in a few months."  At first, I was clearly recovering. I was tired, experiencing some discomfort, adjusting to changes in my body.  But, when do I say I'm "recovered"?  I have friends who have experienced addiction, either themselves or through a loved one.  In that field you can hear people describe themselves as a "recovering addict" for the rest of their lives.  I understand there is a difference between that experience and mine, but when do I stop thinking of myself as "recovering" and switch to "recovered"? 

I think there must be other states that have similarly murky boundaries. When do you really become a parent? When do you really become an adult? When does grief end?  When do you fall in or out of love? 

How do any of us know where we are??!!

And why did Spain and Portugal get to decide??

Meta

 I was playing a pretend game with my 3.5 year old grandson. The game involved me, as a policeman, him, as a "bad guy", and an imaginary Santa character.  At one point he asked me where "Santa" lived and I replied, of course, "the North Pole."  

"Not THAT Santa, Grandma, the pretend Santa!"

Playing a pretend game with a pretend character who represents a pretend character.  My mind boggles.

Patient Denies

 I've become reluctantly familiar with the medical establishment. For years, I was, as one of my primary care doctors once joked, "as healthy as a horse."  Not anymore.

Over the last several years there has been a shift in medical record keeping, due partly to the increased use of electronic records and partly to patient demands for access to their own personal medical records.  With the advent of the Patient Portal test results, visit notes, and after visit summaries are readily available to read, often within hours of the encounter.

One of the terms I've had to adjust to is "patient denies."  Every visit requires an assessment, a list of questions about my current status--pain, falls, safety, mood, etc.  In the after visit summaries my responses are recorded as "patient denies pain,"  "patient denies recent falls," and so on.  It always makes me feel like the nurse doesn't quite believe me.  Sure, she denies pain, but is she really in pain?  Why can't they say "patient reports no pain"?  Or even better, "patient has no pain."  There is an implication in "denies" that seems to say, "there could be pain, but she won't admit it."

Then, as if that isn't disturbing enough to read every month, there are the myriad modifiers available.  Extensive, widespread, severe, multiple, innumerable. In one type of scan I receive there is interest in the extent to which various structures have uptake of the contrast agent.  Those that do exhibit "markedly avid uptake."  Avid, there are avid sports fans, or avid birders, or avid readers.  As the dictionary defines it: characterized by enthusiasm and vigorous pursuit : very eager and enthusiastic.  Gotta love those eager little tumors!

The one I like, though, is "unremarkable."  For the record, I have an "unremarkable gallbladder."  And, my kidneys have "no significant abnormality noted."  So, there is some abnormality, but it's not significant???  But, I really like "stable."  Or, even better, "significantly decreased."

I've debated the value of being able to read test results before meeting with the physician. On the one hand, getting the results sooner can be reassuring and relieve the anxiety of waiting. But, on the other hand, without proper interpretation the reports can be terrifying.  About every third word is a medical term I need to google--mesentery, hyperattenuating, hypoattenuating, hepatomegaly, hypodensity, granuloma, atelectasis!  I should have a medical degree by now!!

A hero's journey with no hero?

 Over the last several years I've taken a few storytelling and memoir writing classes (okay, maybe more than a few) and have become very interested in the role of narrative in shaping our thoughts and feelings. Therapists often talk about rewriting a script or re-framing an event, for instance. Basically they are asking you to change the plot line of the story, imagine different motivations for the characters.

I never took a real literature class in my formal studies, so the idea of the "hero's journey" was something new for me as I started exploring narratives. (Which also may tell you something about the flaws in my educational journey. How could such a basic concept be missed?) There are different ways to think about it or describe it, but the simplest is there is a departure, a challenge, and a return.   It can have many other layers and there is a wide body of scholarship on the difference between the male hero and the female, the nature of the challenge, and the type of transformation.  You can add mentors along the way, there can be refusal of the journey at first, supernatural forces or intervention, etc.  Think about Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, most fairy tales, and Harry Potter.

In storytelling this is often discussed as a good story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. A key element stressed is that a personal story should show change or growth.  "First I was this way, then something happened, now I'm different."  I can think of many stories in my own life that fit this model.

But, what about stories that don't work that way.  What if a person faces a challenge in relationships, health, career, or some other aspect of life and DOESN'T CHANGE!  Was there no journey?  Is there no hero?  Is it a meaningless blip in life? Is the lack of change itself the transformation?  How do we explain or describe that journey?

Windows

 

 

 

 

I had trouble sleeping last night and for some reason my mind went back to a scene from about 30 years ago. At the time, I thought, "This would be a great opening line for a novel."  The problem was, not being a writer, I could never form the perfect sentence.  Let me describe the scene.

It was dusk and I was standing at the kitchen sink after dinner.  Looking out the window I could see three other houses, and though I couldn't see inside them, from each of them I could see a single light from the kitchen window. In that moment I thought about the inter-connectedness of our lives, how many women were standing at kitchen sinks at that moment? How many had stood at those sinks in all the years past or future? It wasn't a gendered feeling, a sense that women were toiling in the kitchen. It was more comforting than that, a sense of timelessness and continuity. But, even then, there was a hint of something else. Loneliness is too strong of a word, but certainly a feeling that I was alone, or solitary.  

So, now someone can take those opposing ideas--connection and solitariness and write a novel!  I've given you a great start.

Not able to sleep, and still struggling with how I could write the perfect opening scene of my never to be written novel, I wondered out into my 17th floor city view living room.  Looking out the windows, seeing all the other lights and activity, but also the dark and quiet buildings, I was reminded of how we go through life surrounded by people, connected to and loved by many, but still alone.

Sounds way more depressing than it felt!  Which is why I'm not a writer.