Nomadic cartographies need to be redrafted constantly; as such they are structurally opposed to fixity and therefore to rapacious appropriation. The nomad has a sharpened sense of territory but no possessiveness about it […] Nomadism, therefore, is not fluidity without borders but rather an acute awareness of the nonfixity of boundaries.
– Rosi Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory
I am Amiththan, yes, with two Ths: a dreamer, wanderer, writer, thinker–usually never in that order and habitually all of these simultaneously. And in my rarer moments of lucidity I’m a hopelessly pessimistic optimist.
Hi! Thanks for stopping by.
“Shall we begin, like David Copperfield, I am born…I grew up”? [Louis de Point Du Lac to Daniel Molloy, Interview with the Vampire]
That wouldn’t do. In fact the last time I seriously thought about this topic it resulted in one of the longest, most cherished pieces of writing I’ve ever done as a graduate student. You can check out an excerpt from that piece, if you wish, in the Academic subsection from the Scribbles tab.
I can start with my name. It seems a tongue-twister, I know, but pretend that the second TH, at least in the English language, is silent. This is otherwise a curious and quite an original feature of the Tamil language, which I speak fluently such that I have done some extensive work as a Foreign Language Consultant for some notable academic and media institutions. As any self-respecting individual, I do not fancy my name abridged. Amiththan, like Jonathan, just rolls off the tongue, if you ask me, when one take pains to keep that seemingly vestigial TH silent. Take a moment to mouth it, say it out loud—it means a lot to me that you’d take that moment to acknowledge me, call me by my rightful name.
If you wish to know me through my academic and professional credentials I’ve posted my CV for your perusal.
But I feel that this endeavour, such as it is and whatever it maybe, is open ended. Sometimes I find myself trudging along a beaten path, repeating step after tired step. And at others, I take a step, skip over a rock, I find myself anew. I feel like I am on an open road yet I do not know wither it’s bound. Strangely or not I find myself trembling with excitement at such a thought.
Come with me if you will as I drift along borrowed time and fleeting place….
“One never reaches home, she said. But wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world feels like home for a time.”
– Herman Hesse, Demian