Hello Ancient Philosophy People,
Please accept my apologies for my delayed joining of the marketplace. Don't worry-- I'll be all caught up shortly.
It may have come to your attention that I travel with an entourage. It only makes sense to introduce them to you as well since they're a part of your lives as well J
~Shirley (curly hair, tiny feet):
Shirley taught at the University of Texas for several years in the American Sign Language department and holds a Master's in Linguistics. Shirley is also my main interpreter and the coordinator of all the schedules. Shirley doubles as a close friend J
~Debbie (blonde bob, tiny height, tiny feet):
Debbie is a Professor here at Baylor in the Communication Disorders department (I take issue with that name..) She teaches ASL and Interpreting classes.
~Lori (blonde bob, big smile, taller height):
Lori is also a Professor here at Baylor teaching ASL and Interpreting classes. Occasionally (when things are light) Lori keeps me awake by adding her own little sidelines to the class discussions (unbeknownst to the public—unless I giggle. I'm a loud giggler).
~Rob (the only man, tall, glasses):
Rob teaches ASL at MCC. We go to the same church—Columbus Ave. Thankfully, Rob also interprets the church services for the deaf people in attendance. You'll probably only see him as a sub. (like on Thursday)
~Camille (straight blonde, tiny-ish height, very blue eyes):
Camille is very sweet. Hence her name sign which translates roughly as "sweet Camille". Camille is new to interpreting for Baylor. She joined us late last fall after her return from work in Taiwan for several years (I think 7, but I can't be sure). Right now she's abroad again. She's in high demand as she knows multiple sign languages. In any case, she will be back here shortly.
As for myself,
Honestly I think my interest in philosophy started as soon as I was diagnosed (Janeane Garofalo makes some funny comments about being diagnosed). I was born with a severe-profound hearing loss but went undiagnosed until 4 ½ years of age. My vision of the world as peaceful, flowing, and complete was disrupted by the diagnosis that resulted in being fitted with hearing aids. Once the aides were put in, I felt suffocated. My ears couldn't breathe. On the drive home the highways in L.A. felt terrifying, I became aware of chaos through the cacophony of traffic sounds—the cars whizzing by sounded aggressive and painful; I immediately longed for the return back to silence. Silence is safe, it is comforting. Silence is like the night for others, but like the day for me. Hearing aids plunged me into the unfamiliar, they broke my norm. Sounds were as unidentifiable and infinite as a Jackson Pollack painting. I tried to flush that alternate reality down the toilet (yes, literally). It floated back to me.
Luckily, observations arose with the buoyant hearing aids. Once a change happens, it is impossible to un-change. It was impossible to "undo" the sensations of hearing even if the tool was destroyed. As Heraclitus says, "you cannot step into the same river twice". Change is necessary and constant. Does that mean I believe hearing aids are necessary? Not so much. The basis is the change of experience rather than the tool itself.
Experience is something that I've acquired a variety of. My mother is a free spirit, always itching for new places and faces. We were practically gypsies. Being on the outside of things (school, socializing, community, auditory media, etc) alters your perception. It becomes clear that people and places have as many things in common as they do things unique to them. Still there are numerous opposing forces present. Society seems geared towards the homogenous.
From all of this questions arise: if the senses are not reliable, how can you know a thing? If change is necessary, is change organized or planned? Are we required to experience changes? Can we decide those changes? Can people actually change?
Well this has gone on long enough.
Cheers!
