I drive my car this way to work

Basically, I call it order when I see someone's thoughts arrived at the point of a pattern I can recognize. A pattern can be appreciated if it is both elegant, complex, but underlined in one greater category. It's very important that they arrive at one category, because the pattern, no matter what method of madness, is useless without its point. It cannot reach the mind of another person unless it has some kind of piercing device or other instrument of probe (i.e. a point, a conclusion, a goal, a hypothesis)— I go nuts when looking at the design of a circuit board; they're beautiful, but meaningless to me. I can see patterns, but they're too complex to understand. If I had one frame of reference (one point) wherein I could look at them, then their meaning could be appreciated as well as their pattern. One reason I love poetry is because of how much of an art it makes of patterns. For example: (and yes, I'm basically using this blog as pretext to impose this poem on your reading-person)

My Autumn Leaves

by Bruce Weigl

I watch the woods for deer as if I’m armed.

I watch the woods for deer who never come.

I know the hes and shes in autumn

rendezvous in orchards stained with fallen

apples’ scent. I drive my car this way to work

so I may let the crows in corn believe

it’s me their caws are meant to warn,

and snakes who turn in warm and secret caves

they know me too. They know the boy

who lives inside me still won’t go away.

The deer are ghosts who slip between the light

through trees, so you may only hear the snap

of branches in the thicket beyond hope.

I watch the woods for deer, as if I’m armed.

Now, I ask you, why is this poem good? What makes it stand out? The pattern, of course! The syllables form a pattern that make the writing (which is mostly commonplace language) very unique. Why does, “I drive my car this way to work” sound so much better than, “I drive my car to work,” though they mean the exact same thing? This poem’s organization creates a pattern delectable to our mind’s ears. I picked it apart today while tutoring (Claire can testify, I hung the picked-apart poem on the board). The poem has no more than 10 syllables for each line, excepting 4 lines which a 2 sets of 8 syllables in sum and 9 syllables in sum. The 9 syllable and 8 syllable lines are exactly one line apart starting 2 lines from each end.The poem is 14 lines total, with 10 marks of punctuation, and 12 words of more than two syllables (only 1 three syllables). There are 120 words in total. What does all this mean? Absolutely nothing, unless you like math. Then, the patterns to find are a pleasurely pursuit.

The point? You could still sense a pattern from that poem, right? Organization is such: it can follow just about any method as long as it achieves the point that is able to reach people’s minds, never mind if they see the pattern! That tangle can fall in a terrible mess behind the point and people will still get it, as long as they have the point.

It’s kind of ironic...since this blog never came to a point.

BTW, Cameron. Do you have a death-wish, or do you not believe in the internet-zombie-ninjas?