We're always asked to give our reason for wanting to teach on the first day of class. There are always these really happy-looking girls there who had a clarifying moment after working as nanny or a camp counselor. I've never wanted to work with children in any other way but education. I'm fascinated by their inability to stop asking questions. I think that they deserveto have teachers who will never get tired of hearing those questions--at least the good ones. Anyone would get tired of hearing "can I go to the bathroom" 20 times a day.
I didn't like the look I got today after class. A woman--a perfectly nice, smart family woman who came back for her degree--addressed me when we were dismissed. I was already on my phone discussing something important with someone back home. She saw the phone on my ear; she saw I was talking, but she kept asking me the same question. I couldn't hear her. I pointed to my phone and made a mildly apologetic face, even though she was starting to annoy me. She said "goodbye" in a very put-out tone that annoyed me. I didn't pick up the phone during a conversation; I was already in it!
The first day of class went very smoothly. I like my teachers so far, although one of them might have the flu.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
You're a grand old flag
http://news.aol.com/article/tattered-us-flag-angers-california-mans/604857?icid=main|aimzones|dl1|link3|http%3A%2F%2Fnews.aol.com%2Farticle%2Ftattered-us-flag-angers-california-mans%2F604857
Patriotism. I'm not against it. Inane bumper stickers and car flags probably help to stimulate the economy. I'm not against the military, either. They're just doing their jobs, and I'm grateful that someone will do it. I certainly don't want to.
But my God... obsessing over these slogans and symbols is destructive. Men didn't die for a flag. What they died for was a set of ideals. I don't like the idea of having laws or even unspoken rules attached to a piece of cloth that might as well be polka-dotted yellow and pink for all it moves me. This man's gesture moves me. A man's son is in Iraq, and he keeps a promise that their flag won't be taken down until he returns. Isn't that more beautiful than a perfectly-pressed Old Glory?
Purposeful destruction of a flag is disrespectful, but this man's actions are not. I wish people would get over it and listen to his story. It's respectful towards soldiers, or at least to one in particular.
Patriotism. I'm not against it. Inane bumper stickers and car flags probably help to stimulate the economy. I'm not against the military, either. They're just doing their jobs, and I'm grateful that someone will do it. I certainly don't want to.
But my God... obsessing over these slogans and symbols is destructive. Men didn't die for a flag. What they died for was a set of ideals. I don't like the idea of having laws or even unspoken rules attached to a piece of cloth that might as well be polka-dotted yellow and pink for all it moves me. This man's gesture moves me. A man's son is in Iraq, and he keeps a promise that their flag won't be taken down until he returns. Isn't that more beautiful than a perfectly-pressed Old Glory?
Purposeful destruction of a flag is disrespectful, but this man's actions are not. I wish people would get over it and listen to his story. It's respectful towards soldiers, or at least to one in particular.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Napping
I napped a lot from 2004-2006 when I had little direction, motivation, and intellectual curiosity. I's love to say that small-town living sapped those things from me, but let's face it, everyone has their stupid selfish years where little gets accomplished. Those were mine. I cooked, studied, watched Friends, and gained a lot of weight. Jake was with me in Thibodaux, and that made it much nicer. But we were both kind of wallowing in a very dangerous kind of ennui that I'm happy to be out of. Don't get me wrong; I don't consider those wasted years. I can now debone a chicken and make killer bread.
Now I'm back to where I was in high school: I do not understand napping. At all. I've pulled all-nighters and powered through the following day. Hell, I cooked and served at a benefit dinner after spending all night writing an essay and attending class all that day. It isn't easy, but it's easier then sleeping for one hour when you need 8 and trying to continue your day. I'd much rather drag on, accomplish what I need to accomplish, and get to bed at 9:30 like some old woman.
There seems to be a nap-based status message every day when I check facebook. And 7 times out of 10 that person is having trouble getting motivated after a nap. I thought they were supposed to refresh you. And what are 20-somethings doing taking naps in the middle of the day, anyway? What are we, 80?
Now I'm back to where I was in high school: I do not understand napping. At all. I've pulled all-nighters and powered through the following day. Hell, I cooked and served at a benefit dinner after spending all night writing an essay and attending class all that day. It isn't easy, but it's easier then sleeping for one hour when you need 8 and trying to continue your day. I'd much rather drag on, accomplish what I need to accomplish, and get to bed at 9:30 like some old woman.
There seems to be a nap-based status message every day when I check facebook. And 7 times out of 10 that person is having trouble getting motivated after a nap. I thought they were supposed to refresh you. And what are 20-somethings doing taking naps in the middle of the day, anyway? What are we, 80?
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Solidify
I just want to remember this great day, and there's no room left in my paper journal... where I usually put this sort of thing.
It started last night. After work, Jake met me at my apartment. We talked about our weeks--both not great. Just sitting together and letting everything else melt away is always good for stress. I sat on the couch, and he lay down with his head in my lap talking about the job that he sometimes hates/sometimes tolerates. Then we agree that we're both lucky to have jobs at all and enjoy a long night of just being close after days of chatting on stupid online programs. Then sleep.
He drives me to work. I'm five minutes late, because like a dummy, I just have to go and make myself fried eggs and toast instead of grabbing a cereal bar like normal people do when they're in a hurry. Anyway, work is quiet--which is always nice. It's basically time to read and chat online.
Then class. My teacher is a funny aging man with thick glasses, graying hair, and a wheelchair with blinking lights on the front. He talks in a thick accent that sounds like somewhere around Lafourche Parish. It's a good enough hour; most of it is a review of material learned in other classes. He has to leave early, which frees up more afternoon to check out an art show.
Jake and I walk to the art show after he picks me up. It was a mild, breezy morning, but now we're walking fast because it's all hot and wet. Clouds are coming in. We walk into the union gallery and are surprised by 3 lecturers. We sit in.
One woman talks about feminism and why female villains are known as villains because of their independence and focus on their own goals. I shrug internally and think that they're also called villains because--like male villains (independent or not)--they're not above harming others to achieve their goals. Then two men get up after her. One talks about Captain America and his place in our culture--what he's represented, etc etc. The next talks about the many faces of Batman--from silly and censored for the children's sake to dark, brooding, and gritty. After the lectures we enjoyed art from the Golden to the Modern age. It was interesting to see the transition they've gone through on a couple of walls.
Then I was hungry, and he bought me lunch. I got barbequed chicken, green beans, potatoes, and cornbread that was too saucy, too bitter, unsalted, and dry, respectively. But I'm just so happy to have an afternoon with him that it's the most delicious thing I've eaten all week. I hadn't had strawberry soda in about a year. I always forget how much I love it.
The rest of the afternoon was supposed to consist of coffee and conversation. There was still conversation, but it was in the comfort of my apartment, snuggled up close. A nice way to end the day-or-so we had. And I get to see him again tomorrow!
It started last night. After work, Jake met me at my apartment. We talked about our weeks--both not great. Just sitting together and letting everything else melt away is always good for stress. I sat on the couch, and he lay down with his head in my lap talking about the job that he sometimes hates/sometimes tolerates. Then we agree that we're both lucky to have jobs at all and enjoy a long night of just being close after days of chatting on stupid online programs. Then sleep.
He drives me to work. I'm five minutes late, because like a dummy, I just have to go and make myself fried eggs and toast instead of grabbing a cereal bar like normal people do when they're in a hurry. Anyway, work is quiet--which is always nice. It's basically time to read and chat online.
Then class. My teacher is a funny aging man with thick glasses, graying hair, and a wheelchair with blinking lights on the front. He talks in a thick accent that sounds like somewhere around Lafourche Parish. It's a good enough hour; most of it is a review of material learned in other classes. He has to leave early, which frees up more afternoon to check out an art show.
Jake and I walk to the art show after he picks me up. It was a mild, breezy morning, but now we're walking fast because it's all hot and wet. Clouds are coming in. We walk into the union gallery and are surprised by 3 lecturers. We sit in.
One woman talks about feminism and why female villains are known as villains because of their independence and focus on their own goals. I shrug internally and think that they're also called villains because--like male villains (independent or not)--they're not above harming others to achieve their goals. Then two men get up after her. One talks about Captain America and his place in our culture--what he's represented, etc etc. The next talks about the many faces of Batman--from silly and censored for the children's sake to dark, brooding, and gritty. After the lectures we enjoyed art from the Golden to the Modern age. It was interesting to see the transition they've gone through on a couple of walls.
Then I was hungry, and he bought me lunch. I got barbequed chicken, green beans, potatoes, and cornbread that was too saucy, too bitter, unsalted, and dry, respectively. But I'm just so happy to have an afternoon with him that it's the most delicious thing I've eaten all week. I hadn't had strawberry soda in about a year. I always forget how much I love it.
The rest of the afternoon was supposed to consist of coffee and conversation. There was still conversation, but it was in the comfort of my apartment, snuggled up close. A nice way to end the day-or-so we had. And I get to see him again tomorrow!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Faith, Part I
I wrote a short essay-type thing a while back about the time when I abandoned Catholicism, and shortly after, Christianity. They were not abhorrent to me; I didn't become an atheist or even anti-religion. Any religious organization has its good and bad, and they all have good people in them who work hard at their faith and put their beliefs into action. My leaving was mostly out of respect. Questions that couldn't be answers, nagging doubts, and refusal to compromise left me with no option but to leave the titles behind for now, until I can devote myself fully. Until then, I'm simply a theist who believes in treating others kindly and doing your best to learn every day.
The title was "Shopping for God," because that's what my brief foray into new-religion-hunting felt like. With every article or chapter or website I read, I pictured myself walking down a produce aisle squeezing fruit. "Too firm, not firm enough, rotten..."
It's inconvenient to be in college and have a crisis of faith at the same time. It's so cliche. I don't want to come off as a pseudo-intellectual whose eyes were suddenly opened by a bunch of elbow-patched bearded guys. The truth is that my doubts came early, but my confidence to face them came late. Catholic schools can be like that. You're swept up in it--all the singing and swaying and "me-toos" in Theology class.
More later. I'm just summing myself up for the moment: A noncommittal, analytical bullshitter who tries to be kind.
The title was "Shopping for God," because that's what my brief foray into new-religion-hunting felt like. With every article or chapter or website I read, I pictured myself walking down a produce aisle squeezing fruit. "Too firm, not firm enough, rotten..."
It's inconvenient to be in college and have a crisis of faith at the same time. It's so cliche. I don't want to come off as a pseudo-intellectual whose eyes were suddenly opened by a bunch of elbow-patched bearded guys. The truth is that my doubts came early, but my confidence to face them came late. Catholic schools can be like that. You're swept up in it--all the singing and swaying and "me-toos" in Theology class.
More later. I'm just summing myself up for the moment: A noncommittal, analytical bullshitter who tries to be kind.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
School Spirit
It's like modern-day totemism. We rabidly attach ourselves as an academic community to some ferocious animal (or other). Then we have miniature wars. There's even body paint present when you look at the most fervent fans. I always found a passionate love for one's school and school mascot a little strange. Thinking about this is when I learn a little about myself--that I believe not everything has a purpose. I truly believe that, when it comes to my school, i could have been born anywhere, and it would have been just as easy to fall into the fandom of another community. Then it becomes completely meaningless, and I go back to do my homework.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Middle Names
Uses:
1:Incorporating a saint's name into your child's title--useful for children who will one day be Confirmed.
2. Making it fun to be an angry parent (the middle name seems to make scolding more fun).
But why are they still around, really? Many times it's done in order to give a child their mother or father's name (usually the father's). But why does anyone bother to do that? Is that person going to go by the same name as the father? That's not always how it happens.
Case in point: My brother and cousin--both "thirds"--go by the nicknames Trey and Tripp. And after countless calls to university students in my job as an operator, I've learned that "Jr." or II" after a name often means that they go by the middle name or a variation of the first. For example, Edward Jay II would be more likely to be called Jay than Edward. With the sample of students I've been given, that's just so often the case. So this need to give our children names almost identical to our own serves little purpose other than to give them more to write when they're filling out a form. But then, they never even ask for your full middle name on a form, only the initial. I write it out anyway.
There's a possibility that, at least in the case of duplicate naming, a middle name offers some variety--a chance to shake up your image. It's a gamble. And if they choose to go by their middle name, the name that the parents chose first is lost.
Why give a name that will never really be used? Names like Mary Anne (not hyphenated, just used as one name) make sense. But Portia Elizabeth? Who's going to go to the trouble? Sure, the options are nice. She could go by Portia, Elizabeth, Beth, or Liz. Maybe parents aren't as controlling as I think, and middle names really are all about freedom of choice. But is it freedom of choice when having two "first" names imply that those are your options and nothing else? Who would go to the trouble of changing their name legally when they can settle for one of two and simply have to say, "I actually go by ___."
It's a waste. It's like buying someone two beautiful hats and saying they can only wear one for the rest of their lives. Sure, people might see the other hat and admire it, but it can never be enjoyed the way hats are meant to be enjoyed. I can't do anything with the "Anne" I'm saddled with. People don't seem to mind when I write it out on forms, because it's so short. It's not that I feel close to the name; it's the principle. It's there; I might as well use it somehow, some way.
1:Incorporating a saint's name into your child's title--useful for children who will one day be Confirmed.
2. Making it fun to be an angry parent (the middle name seems to make scolding more fun).
But why are they still around, really? Many times it's done in order to give a child their mother or father's name (usually the father's). But why does anyone bother to do that? Is that person going to go by the same name as the father? That's not always how it happens.
Case in point: My brother and cousin--both "thirds"--go by the nicknames Trey and Tripp. And after countless calls to university students in my job as an operator, I've learned that "Jr." or II" after a name often means that they go by the middle name or a variation of the first. For example, Edward Jay II would be more likely to be called Jay than Edward. With the sample of students I've been given, that's just so often the case. So this need to give our children names almost identical to our own serves little purpose other than to give them more to write when they're filling out a form. But then, they never even ask for your full middle name on a form, only the initial. I write it out anyway.
There's a possibility that, at least in the case of duplicate naming, a middle name offers some variety--a chance to shake up your image. It's a gamble. And if they choose to go by their middle name, the name that the parents chose first is lost.
Why give a name that will never really be used? Names like Mary Anne (not hyphenated, just used as one name) make sense. But Portia Elizabeth? Who's going to go to the trouble? Sure, the options are nice. She could go by Portia, Elizabeth, Beth, or Liz. Maybe parents aren't as controlling as I think, and middle names really are all about freedom of choice. But is it freedom of choice when having two "first" names imply that those are your options and nothing else? Who would go to the trouble of changing their name legally when they can settle for one of two and simply have to say, "I actually go by ___."
It's a waste. It's like buying someone two beautiful hats and saying they can only wear one for the rest of their lives. Sure, people might see the other hat and admire it, but it can never be enjoyed the way hats are meant to be enjoyed. I can't do anything with the "Anne" I'm saddled with. People don't seem to mind when I write it out on forms, because it's so short. It's not that I feel close to the name; it's the principle. It's there; I might as well use it somehow, some way.
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