"Our reality is a living, flowing and growing reality, continually in movement but a universal concept of a descriptive kind can give us a stable point of entry for our inquiries into the diffusely organized nature of those otherwise unique ways of knowing that we exhibit in our movement around us in the world." These points, made by Shotter, had me thinking about MacCurdy and the way I tried to "write the details" about my grandmother. In doing the MacCurdy activity where I went back to my grandmother's house it pulled at all of these threads about my grandmother that helped me explore certain aspects of things I am currently struggling with. So I feel like this was the "concept of a descriptive kind" that helped create the "point of entry" that Gergen writes about. So I'm pretty interested in that activity and the subconcious thought the freewriting activity allowed the window into. Could I write about this for a research paper? There may not be enough material there, unless I examined other people's experience with this same activity and interviewed them to see if they had a similar experience and looked at that point of entry for them. For me, this activity had me looking at my role as a female in my family and how I identify myself as it compares with my mother and my grandmother. This stirred up a lot of feelings/thoughts. It would be interesting to see if others had a simliar type of experience with the activity or to examine other writing assignments that create that point of entry.

I've been thinking of the interview in terms of collecting data for what I want to do my research on. What I discovered about myself during the interview is that I have this kind of "formal" (school format) writing block. When I write for fun, like in letters, or as LM for my fantasty football page I feel like I have a lot of freedom and so there aren't any obstacles in my writing, but when I'm writing for a class, even a writing class I put certain pressures on myself that might interefere with the creativity or maybe with a sincerity in my writing. I think I have an idea about what writing is supposed to be like. When I did the MacCurdy activity I just sat down and tried to "write the details" and without thinking about it at all it all came back to me. What came out was so much more natural than what would have come out if I had sat down with the intention of writing a story about my grandmother. I had to resist the urge to go back and "fix" some of those impulsive decisions made during writing. This might be an obstacle I need to deal with. I had no agenda when I sat down to write my last blog. There is something for me in a more natural/less formal setting where I feel a level of comfort to write. It's hard to think about this in light of the Gergen stuff because the Gergen stuff is really confusing. All I understand is there is no bad writing (and that's good).

My grandmother's house smelled of gravy, and not just on Sundays when we had the big family dinner but every time I went to her house. I had to go through Aunt Laura's downstairs apartment to get to my grandmother, who lived on the 2nd floor. We couldn't just pass through. We had to go in and sit in the kitchen. There was always something to eat and we were expected to sit and talk and eat. There were no short visits with Aunt Laura or grandma, who I called Monie. My father affectionately referred to her as chicken legs, a term I never understood. As far as I can remember there was nothing skinny about Monie. So we would sit in the kitchen with Aunt Laura and eat and eventually Uncle Andrew would show up and it was possible I would get to see my older cousin Andrea, who was an absolute enigma to me. She had the longest , straightest, most beauitful hair I had ever seen and one day when I inquired about it my mother told me Aunt Laura ironed it. What a shock that was to me. I didn't know you could use an iron on anything other than clothes and I though it must really hurt, and of course this made Andrea all the more fascinationg and mysterious to me. Aunt Laura had had a good deal of trouble with her pregnancies and so she spoiled her two kids rotten. Everyone in the family talked about it. Andrea would barely acknowledge me and eventually would make a hasty exit and it was never explained to me where she was going or what she was doing. Eventually we made it upstairs to see Monie. Her apartment was much more barren than Aunt Laura's and the simplicity of it seemed to indicate a different sort of life. Aunt Laura was married, with spoiled children and fine things. She didn't work. But my grandmother had no husband and raised three kids on her own while working. She was a worker. That's what they said about her. Said it ran in the family. She had a black and white tv in the faimly room that was less than impresssive than my color tv at home. And there were those tv trays you pull out so you can eat in front of the tv. Everything in the kitchen was outdated and linoleum. Cold, hard floors. Monie's house was cold but it smelled like family. It was more austere than what I had become used to living in a house with a backyard. But there were always english muffins. And not Thomases. I liked the kind she bought, generic but I remember being puzzled that there was some other type of english muffin besides thomas english muffin. When I became bored with tv or whatever games she had I would go into her bedroom and there were dozens of small trinkets to amuse myself with. Monie didn't play with me, she expected a well-behaved little girl to entertain herself, which I did. If it was nice out sometimes we'd take a walk to the local dinner. Monie didn't drive. She'd ask me what I want and I would say I want both a hotdog and a hamburger. And she would say "You're eyes are bigger than you're stomach" but she would buy me both anyway. She always wore a kind of hankerchief over her hair to cover it up. It seemed like once you got to a certain age you were required to do this. Next door to her house was a candy store which seemed to house an endless array of treats that always seemed just out of reach to me. Even if I were, on some special ocassion, permitted to enter the candy story and purchase some small item, it always seemed like I was missing out on so much more.

Ideas for Research: I am very interested in the low-level thinking Pennebaker writes about in her book and how it is used as way to cope with traumatic experiences. He mentions a number of mindless activities in relation to low-level thinking such as watching TV, obsessing over trivial matters and the one form in particular that is of interest to me, which is exercise. Pennebaker acknowledges that "When done in moderation" it can provide a "healthy form of escape from the stressors of daily life." Is this healthy escape a form of catharsis? As a person who excercises on a regular basis and reaps the benefits of this stress reliever, I have made a number of observations about myself and those "regulars" I see at the gym every day. It would be interesting to get a group of those "regulars" to write or talk about their experience with exercise on a daily basis. I would look at how often they go, their overall motivations for going, and most importantly, the benefits of their regular exercise that go beyond physical aspects. It would be interesting to look at the emotional and psychological changes that take place when a person (such as myself) takes on a "regular" exercise routine. Could it have similar results to the writing Pennebaker talks about? Is it possible it is another form of catharsis? I'm certain this is not a new idea to be looked at and I actually have no idea if this will be relevant in terms of what I am assigned to do research about.