Of the 1,025,109.8 words in the English language,* one stands out as infinitely peculiar, exceptionally intriguing.
Earlier this month, a friend introduced to me a genre of writing called “six word stories.” Popularized by literary legend Ernest Hemingway, this unusual genre challenges writers to create and cleverly convey as much of a plot as possible in just half a dozen words. An example:
For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.
In 1958, renowned religious expert Huston Smith published a groundbreaking book titled The World’s Religions. 57 years and two million copies later, the book remains an authoritative summary of the world’s major faiths.
This month, for the first time, I read Smith’s book. (Actually, I had to read it for an honors class I’m taking this semester.)
Perusing this particular publication has proven to be profoundly provocative. Allow me to briefly summarize my most memorable musings.
Rather than focusing on one particular religion in the book, I have been thinking about all faiths corporately. More specifically, I’ve grappled with the question, Is there something all these religions—despite their undeniable diversity—have in common?
We took some friends to Prairie Dog Town a couple weeks ago.
Prairie Dog Town is one of Lubbock’s premiere tourist destinations—a quintessential small town attraction. (Which is funny, because Lubbock is not exactly a small town; the metro area population is now greater than 300,000. But I digress.)
You know that sinking feeling when you’re deep in a flash flood-prone cave and, after venturing about a mile-and-a-half into the subterranean corridor, you realize that the exit that was supposed to lead you back to glorious sunshine is actually flooded and impassable?
Such was the case on Saturday.
Yesterday at 5:15 p.m., I found myself in the basement of the Texas Tech University library, rummaging through the microfilm archives of the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal. I was determined to locate the May 27, 1972, issue of the A-J.
The TTU library basement is a solemn place. Countless encyclopedias, periodicals, government records, and antiquated publications line the shelves of this cavernous chamber. Hushed students pore over textbooks and study materials.
I took an online final exam last week. My score was satisfactory—104%.
The content was not difficult. Quite easy, actually. (It was for a political communications class.)
However, I can confidently say that this particular assessment was the most typo-ridden document I have beheld in quite some time. In fact, after carefully saving the exam as a PDF for the sake of posterity, I counted a grand total of 110 typos, grammatical mistakes, and other miscellaneous errors.