Season Six of Buffy the Vampire Slayer concerns Buffy’s troubles with finding her way in the world. After dying (at the end of season five), and being resurrected, Buffy is having some problems finding her purpose in life. In the musical episode, “Once More With Feeling,” she sings that she just wants to “feel” and that she wants “something to sing about.” Spike sings to her, “Life's not a song/ Life isn't bliss/ Life is just this/ It's living.” (I know that sounds uber-corny, but trust me, the show is masterful at making the trite meaningful. Plus the way Spike – James Marsters – looks at Buffy at this moment is enough to make your socks melt).
ANYWAY, I love me this stuff, but as many times as I watch this episode, I’m always left sitting there thinking, “Come on Buffy, what the crap? You have super-slayer powers, a dreamy dude worshipping you, a stylish yet affordable wardrobe, cool friends, and perpetually shiny and bouncy hair. What is it you’re sad about again?”
And then I am spiraled into self-reflection, because I know it’s true that I complain too. But I know I shouldn’t. I have a lovely life. I am paid to read books that interest me and to talk about them and write about them in a beautiful place with smart people. I think of my friend Maggie at Mizzou who would talk about how she drove a forklift for ten years before coming to grad school. And why am I complaining again? And as much as I complain about teaching, it brings me incredible joy. Seriously. I woke up at 5:30am this morning because I was so excited about creating a lesson plan centered on Jeopardy. That’s joy.
So I’ve decided to just not complain anymore, because every time I complain, I am giving myself permission to be ungrateful for the good things I’ve got. I am giving myself permission to NOT “be here now,” to NOT “be mindful,” to live in some fantasy world where I’m thinner, have a car, and everyone thinks I’m smarter than they are.
I am currently reading Thomas Merton’s Zen and the Birds of Appetite, and I find that Merton makes a similar point: “I might suggest a fourth need of modern man, which is precisely liberation from his inordinate self-consciousness, his monumental self-awareness, his obsession with self-affirmation, so that he may enjoy the freedom from concern that goes with being simply what he is and accepting things as they are in order to work with them as he can.”
So here are some ground rules:
1. I am only allowed to “complain” to people who can do something about it. So if for example, I have a problem with a professor, I am only allowed to talk to the professor about it. This will also keep me from gossiping.
2. I am only allowed to complain about things that I can change or that can be changed (the wisdom to know the difference, etc.)
3. Before I complain, I’m going to think about how my complaining might come off to someone who, for example, has to work 60+ hours a week in customer service for less money than I make. In short, I want to look at myself the way I look at Buffy.
4. I am allowed to debate, analyze, and criticize for the purpose of furthering my own beliefs or for the benefit of others. For example, I can criticize a book we read for class, and discuss what I don’t like about it, but I am not allowed to complain that we have to read it in the first place.
We shall see how this works. I’m already feeling more positive.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Choosing between my money and my life
I’m reading a very interesting book called Your Money or Your Life: Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Achieving Financial Independence, recommended by one of the productivity blogs I read, zenhabits. The book has a lot of great anti-capitalism messages, essentially showing how society programs us to want more and more while making us less happy. The goal of the book is to help you figure out how to get what you want from money. In this way, it’s very zen because you’re supposed to focus on what you want, as opposed to what TV ads or your friends tell you that you want. You need to find what is “enough” for you. It’s also filled with fun soundbites like “If you live for having it all, what you have is never enough” and “Most people have no idea how much money has entered their lives, and therefore no idea how much money could enter their lives.”
The book points out that we don’t tell people how to spend their money because it’s their “right” to spend it how they want in a free society. We take our “right” to consume to heart, sometimes even placing it above other rights, privileges, and duties of a free society. We also have the idea that it’s un-American to reject consumerism: “We have absorbed the notion that it is right to buy – that consuming is what keeps America strong … a day at the mall can be considered downright patriotic.”
I thought I was doing pretty well with money, and I thought that this book would be good “advice” but that I didn’t really need it.
Then I checked the mail on Friday and got my electric bill.
And it was $180.
Now, this is an unusual bill. LaRue was here for a couple weeks, and obviously two people take up more energy than one. And it was incredibly hot, and it’s cooling down now. BUT OH MY GOSH ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY DOLLARS IS A LOT OF MONEY. I don’t even want to think about how many hours I’ve slaved over grading papers this semester that have gone simply to keeping my apartment a balmy 80 degrees while I’m not even there.
I don’t have the firmest grasp of my readership, so I won’t put my earnings here, but suffice it to say I am living on a grad student salary, which cannot typically bear that kind of stress. So I pulled up my checking account online, made a budget, and decided to make some changes. I’m posting some of these ideas to hold myself accountable and to perhaps give other some ideas:
1. I read online that you can usually downgrade your internet speed and generally you won’t even notice the difference. So I called the cable company and asked how much I was actually paying (before reading this book, I would have just set up automatic bill pay and forgotten about it). I was paying $30/month for high speed internet. “I want to downgrade,” I told the woman on the phone. “I want the $15 per month tier.” “Okay,” she said, “but it’s going to be a lot slower!” Guess what? She changed it, and I can’t tell the difference.
2. I live down the street from a place that buys, sells, and trades books, DVDs, music, etc., so I’m going to go through my stuff and see what I can get rid of.
3. I’m going to buy:
a. An energy efficient showerhead
b. Energy star light bulbs (I have some, but not in all my lights)
c. Glass pans (which retain heat and cook faster, meaning that the oven doesn’t have to be on as long)
d. Pots for the stove with flat bottoms and tight covers (I’m also going to cook with the lids on)
4. I’m going to look into getting reflective film for my windows which will let in the light but not the heat. Also, I’m going to consider getting ceiling fans.
5. I’m going to try to do my cooking early in the morning or late in the evening. Last night, for example, I made pasta and tofu to take for my lunches this week. That way, I don’t have to keep heating up the stove (and thus the apartment) every day or during the heat of the day.
6. I’m going to study on campus during the heat of the day, so I can leave the AC off in my apartment.
I’ll keep you posted. Anyone have other energy-saving ideas for me?
Thursday, September 13, 2007
That Quiet Kid
It happens every semester.
There is one student (in my mind, usually male) who never talks. Sometimes he's in the back, sometimes he's in the front, but he just sits there and stares (sometimes under the brim of a baseball hat).
Then, inevitably, this kid writes a brilliant paper. And everything you said on the first day of class about the importance of participation, about how you have to talk to learn, about how we're all in this together and you have to contribute to learn right along with everyone else, etc. doesn't make sense. Because this kid said like one or two things the entire class thus far and yet seemed to get it more than anyone else.
I was always baffled about why this happened, up until this last week reading Living Speech by James Boyd White. White argues that much of what we say is "dead" speech -- cliches, empty phrases, chatter, propoganda -- it lacks meaning and life. He discusses briefly Quaker church services and Trappist monks, both of which are marked by silence. In a Quaker church service, everyone sits in silence until someone feels as though he or she has something meaningful to say. Similarly, the monks take a vow of silence not to alienate others but to clear away the clutter of daily life, to perhaps hear God better. (Though perhaps not as erudite of an example, there's an episode of Buffy where everyone loses their voice -- a similar point is made about how little of what we say actually means anything.) I mentioned this (the silent student, not the Buffy ep) to my professor, who remarked that studies of gifted children show that they spend a good portion of their day staring out the window.
I believe in silence in the classroom. After I ask a question, I usually let the silence stretch for quite some time -- silence gives students time to think. Sometimes you can't just answer a question right off the bat. Sometimes you need to look at your notes, or the reading, or the book, or sometimes you just need to stare out the window.
There is one student (in my mind, usually male) who never talks. Sometimes he's in the back, sometimes he's in the front, but he just sits there and stares (sometimes under the brim of a baseball hat).
Then, inevitably, this kid writes a brilliant paper. And everything you said on the first day of class about the importance of participation, about how you have to talk to learn, about how we're all in this together and you have to contribute to learn right along with everyone else, etc. doesn't make sense. Because this kid said like one or two things the entire class thus far and yet seemed to get it more than anyone else.
I was always baffled about why this happened, up until this last week reading Living Speech by James Boyd White. White argues that much of what we say is "dead" speech -- cliches, empty phrases, chatter, propoganda -- it lacks meaning and life. He discusses briefly Quaker church services and Trappist monks, both of which are marked by silence. In a Quaker church service, everyone sits in silence until someone feels as though he or she has something meaningful to say. Similarly, the monks take a vow of silence not to alienate others but to clear away the clutter of daily life, to perhaps hear God better. (Though perhaps not as erudite of an example, there's an episode of Buffy where everyone loses their voice -- a similar point is made about how little of what we say actually means anything.) I mentioned this (the silent student, not the Buffy ep) to my professor, who remarked that studies of gifted children show that they spend a good portion of their day staring out the window.
I believe in silence in the classroom. After I ask a question, I usually let the silence stretch for quite some time -- silence gives students time to think. Sometimes you can't just answer a question right off the bat. Sometimes you need to look at your notes, or the reading, or the book, or sometimes you just need to stare out the window.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Notes on Literacy
For my first unit in my composition course, I’ve decided to have students analyze and write their own literacy narratives. We’re spending the first week of class or so figuring out what a “literacy narrative” is, so I thought I might post some ideas here while I think it through for myself.
Questions
1. What does it mean to be literate? I just read David Russell’s introduction to Writing in the Academic Disciplines, and he writes, “”Literacy is thus a function of the specific community in which certain kinds of reading and writing activities take place … As Brazilian sociolinguist Terezina Carrahar notes, a professor may, without irony, express pleasure that her maid is ‘literate’ because she can barely decode recipes and take down phone messages, but complain that her students are ‘illiterate’ because they do not yet understand the conventions of written discourse in her discipline” (13). (We’re gonna go ahead and breeze through the idea that a professor could ever make enough money to hire a maid to take phone messages, and while we’re at it, we’ll forget about the complicated ethics of such a decision.)
2. How do different people/groups define literacy? What is the link between literacy and community?
3. What different kinds of literacies are there? Whenever I am around new people (as I have been recently), I often try to evaluate their pop-culture literacy, because pop culture is important to me and because I make a lot of pop culture references. In fact, even in writing this blog I’ve thought about how literate my readership is with respect to the various references I’m making. In this way, I’m sort of defining literacy as “knowing stuff about stuff” but more specifically in reference to people who read entertainment news, watch TV and movies, etc.
4. Who is our “best” audience for our writing? People who are literate in the same way we are? One of my pet peeves is people who randomly quote movie or TV show lines and then just stare at you as thought you’re supposed to know what they’re talking about. One of my favorite things though, is when people make those references and I get them. It’s like we’re sharing a literacy! So part of knowing your audience is knowing their literacy.
5. What literacies do I have? (Note: Word put a squiggly red line under “literacies”)
6. A literacy narrative is basically a story about language, speech, reading, or writing and learning. How does the style of the narrative reflect the literacy being explained?
7. Are most literacy narratives stories of failure or success?
8. How do we measure literacy?
9. Are some literacies valued more than others?
Questions
1. What does it mean to be literate? I just read David Russell’s introduction to Writing in the Academic Disciplines, and he writes, “”Literacy is thus a function of the specific community in which certain kinds of reading and writing activities take place … As Brazilian sociolinguist Terezina Carrahar notes, a professor may, without irony, express pleasure that her maid is ‘literate’ because she can barely decode recipes and take down phone messages, but complain that her students are ‘illiterate’ because they do not yet understand the conventions of written discourse in her discipline” (13). (We’re gonna go ahead and breeze through the idea that a professor could ever make enough money to hire a maid to take phone messages, and while we’re at it, we’ll forget about the complicated ethics of such a decision.)
2. How do different people/groups define literacy? What is the link between literacy and community?
3. What different kinds of literacies are there? Whenever I am around new people (as I have been recently), I often try to evaluate their pop-culture literacy, because pop culture is important to me and because I make a lot of pop culture references. In fact, even in writing this blog I’ve thought about how literate my readership is with respect to the various references I’m making. In this way, I’m sort of defining literacy as “knowing stuff about stuff” but more specifically in reference to people who read entertainment news, watch TV and movies, etc.
4. Who is our “best” audience for our writing? People who are literate in the same way we are? One of my pet peeves is people who randomly quote movie or TV show lines and then just stare at you as thought you’re supposed to know what they’re talking about. One of my favorite things though, is when people make those references and I get them. It’s like we’re sharing a literacy! So part of knowing your audience is knowing their literacy.
5. What literacies do I have? (Note: Word put a squiggly red line under “literacies”)
6. A literacy narrative is basically a story about language, speech, reading, or writing and learning. How does the style of the narrative reflect the literacy being explained?
7. Are most literacy narratives stories of failure or success?
8. How do we measure literacy?
9. Are some literacies valued more than others?
Monday, August 13, 2007
Yo Soy Movando
(Note of oddness: I picked out the photo on top for my blog in early June, when I first started the blog. The phot directly above is taken from the patio of my condo, which we didn't get until July -- weird)
Many thanks to those of you who have inquired about my move! Mom and I have been very busy furnishing the condo, and thus I have not had much time to contact people. Still, your messages are much appreciated!
Two highlights from the last week:
We arrived at the property early Friday morning, wanting to get one good look around before buying furniture. I opened the front door with the key we got from the real estate agent, and proceeded to try the same key in the second door. It wouldn't budge. Mom tried. Still, it wouldn't move. We twisted and turned the key, threw our weight against the door, and still nothing. It was about 100 degrees (I'm not kidding), and I have technically been homeless since June 1 (special thanks to our summer sponsors, Juliette and Jennifer, for letting me stay at their place this summer). I am tired of moving. We call the real estate agent, who informs us that the lock on the second door is broken, and we just have to push on it and it will open. "Oh," we say. So I threw myself against the door, and burst into my home (and new life in Arizona, etc.) Through the patio, I could see the sun shining brightly on the mountains. It was a glorious moment.
Friday we bought furniture, so Saturday, Mom and I decided to go to Nogales, Mexico for home decor, approximately a 45-minute drive from Tucson. We point the car towards the Santa Catalinas and drive. About half an hour later, the road signs switch from miles to kilometers (that zany metric system!) and my mom becomes convinced that we will accidentally drive across the border and suddenly be in Mexico. We arrive in Nogales, park the car, and because we're white Americans, stroll freely through the metal turnstile into Mexico. We find a beautiful Spanish-style mirror and end tables for the living room. The man selling us the stuff offers to carry it across the border back to our car (did I mention it's at least a mile walk, plus time in customs, plus its 90 degrees, plus there's about a million people milling around?) My mother, the cheapest person I know, insists that we are fine and capable of carrying close to 70 lbs. (50 kg) of home furnishings ourselves. I am bruised and have ruined a pair of capris, but we have gotten a bargain.
I’ve also had a chance to get to know many great people here. I am currently keeping busy designing my syllabus for teaching this year (and watching So You Think You Can Dance – go Neil!) Looking forward to LaRue coming down on Sunday.
More pics are on Facebook!
Two highlights from the last week:
We arrived at the property early Friday morning, wanting to get one good look around before buying furniture. I opened the front door with the key we got from the real estate agent, and proceeded to try the same key in the second door. It wouldn't budge. Mom tried. Still, it wouldn't move. We twisted and turned the key, threw our weight against the door, and still nothing. It was about 100 degrees (I'm not kidding), and I have technically been homeless since June 1 (special thanks to our summer sponsors, Juliette and Jennifer, for letting me stay at their place this summer). I am tired of moving. We call the real estate agent, who informs us that the lock on the second door is broken, and we just have to push on it and it will open. "Oh," we say. So I threw myself against the door, and burst into my home (and new life in Arizona, etc.) Through the patio, I could see the sun shining brightly on the mountains. It was a glorious moment.
Friday we bought furniture, so Saturday, Mom and I decided to go to Nogales, Mexico for home decor, approximately a 45-minute drive from Tucson. We point the car towards the Santa Catalinas and drive. About half an hour later, the road signs switch from miles to kilometers (that zany metric system!) and my mom becomes convinced that we will accidentally drive across the border and suddenly be in Mexico. We arrive in Nogales, park the car, and because we're white Americans, stroll freely through the metal turnstile into Mexico. We find a beautiful Spanish-style mirror and end tables for the living room. The man selling us the stuff offers to carry it across the border back to our car (did I mention it's at least a mile walk, plus time in customs, plus its 90 degrees, plus there's about a million people milling around?) My mother, the cheapest person I know, insists that we are fine and capable of carrying close to 70 lbs. (50 kg) of home furnishings ourselves. I am bruised and have ruined a pair of capris, but we have gotten a bargain.
I’ve also had a chance to get to know many great people here. I am currently keeping busy designing my syllabus for teaching this year (and watching So You Think You Can Dance – go Neil!) Looking forward to LaRue coming down on Sunday.
More pics are on Facebook!
Monday, July 23, 2007
My next writing class
I like to use writing to figure out the way I feel about something. I think the reason that college students sometimes write crappy research papers is that they weren’t genuinely curious. The way a research paper should work is that there is an urgent need to figure out something you don’t know. You begin with a question, separating what you do know from what you want to/need to know. Then, using the tools at your disposal, you find the information you seek, and place it into a form that’s most appropriate for your audience.
I don’t think it’s entirely possible in the first-year writing class to create a genuine research situation. Due to the nature of school and grading, it’s always going to be kind of faux. But I believe we can create research paper topics that genuinely interest students. But what would interest a random group of 20-year-olds? What confuses them? What do they want to know more about but do not yet have sufficient information?
Relationships. It seems to me that at the beginning of college students are leaving the high school mode of transient relationships. They’re less hormonal. They ‘re even beginning to think about the future, long-term relationships, even marriage. Though they’re processing all these possibilities, they don’t have it quite figured out yet. This is the perfect occasion for a research question. (Plus, I’m confused about relationships too, so we can all learn together. William Perry shows that students move to higher levels of intellectual development when the teacher is seen as “in the same boat”)
I’m thinking the class could even follow an arc of a relationship.
1. How do you find/create a relationship? How to pick up people, where to meet people. This could also include discussions of phenomena like online dating (rhetorical analysis of a match.com profile?), and of course, the awkwardness of first dates, dating etiquette. (Possible texts: online dating profiles, The Game, that scene from Magnolia where Tom Cruise plays the pickup artist, books that tell you how to pick up women/men, how to find a husband/wife )
2. How do you nurture a relationship? Transitioning from someone you’re “dating” to someone you’re “with” – In fact, think of how much terminology and wordplay factor into this phase. The first time your partner refers to the two of you as “us,” the first “I love you.” (Possible texts: Sex and the City, those self-help books that talk about how to get your boyfriend to propose to you)
3. How do you end a relationship? This is, of course, all a matter of words. How do you break up with someone? What do you say? (Possible texts: He’s Just Not That Into You/It’s Called A Breakup Because It’s Broken, that episode of Seinfeld about “It’s not you, it’s me” – in fact, any number of Seinfeld episodes would work, we could also analyze breakup songs)
4. How do you maintain a relationship? Marriage would be a topic here, obviously, and gay marriage and civil unions (I would have to make sure the class wasn’t too focused on the heterosexual). It might even be neat at this point to have students interview someone whose relationship they admire and ask for advice. (Possible texts: Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus)
I’ve been looking up relationship books on Amazon, and they all have comic names like Why Men Love Bitches, and I Used to Miss Him But My Aim is Improving.
Does anyone have any suggestions for other texts I could use?
I don’t think it’s entirely possible in the first-year writing class to create a genuine research situation. Due to the nature of school and grading, it’s always going to be kind of faux. But I believe we can create research paper topics that genuinely interest students. But what would interest a random group of 20-year-olds? What confuses them? What do they want to know more about but do not yet have sufficient information?
Relationships. It seems to me that at the beginning of college students are leaving the high school mode of transient relationships. They’re less hormonal. They ‘re even beginning to think about the future, long-term relationships, even marriage. Though they’re processing all these possibilities, they don’t have it quite figured out yet. This is the perfect occasion for a research question. (Plus, I’m confused about relationships too, so we can all learn together. William Perry shows that students move to higher levels of intellectual development when the teacher is seen as “in the same boat”)
I’m thinking the class could even follow an arc of a relationship.
1. How do you find/create a relationship? How to pick up people, where to meet people. This could also include discussions of phenomena like online dating (rhetorical analysis of a match.com profile?), and of course, the awkwardness of first dates, dating etiquette. (Possible texts: online dating profiles, The Game, that scene from Magnolia where Tom Cruise plays the pickup artist, books that tell you how to pick up women/men, how to find a husband/wife )
2. How do you nurture a relationship? Transitioning from someone you’re “dating” to someone you’re “with” – In fact, think of how much terminology and wordplay factor into this phase. The first time your partner refers to the two of you as “us,” the first “I love you.” (Possible texts: Sex and the City, those self-help books that talk about how to get your boyfriend to propose to you)
3. How do you end a relationship? This is, of course, all a matter of words. How do you break up with someone? What do you say? (Possible texts: He’s Just Not That Into You/It’s Called A Breakup Because It’s Broken, that episode of Seinfeld about “It’s not you, it’s me” – in fact, any number of Seinfeld episodes would work, we could also analyze breakup songs)
4. How do you maintain a relationship? Marriage would be a topic here, obviously, and gay marriage and civil unions (I would have to make sure the class wasn’t too focused on the heterosexual). It might even be neat at this point to have students interview someone whose relationship they admire and ask for advice. (Possible texts: Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus)
I’ve been looking up relationship books on Amazon, and they all have comic names like Why Men Love Bitches, and I Used to Miss Him But My Aim is Improving.
Does anyone have any suggestions for other texts I could use?
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Why I'll Miss You
I have written in this blog previously that I wanted to be little parts of different things; specifically, I wanted to glob together a bunch of religions and make them all my religion. I have since come to consider this further and maybe I think the integrity of each religion is a good thing. In fact, maybe I think each religion should just fully strive to be what it is, instead of making concessions to other religions and therefore diluting itself.
But I have decided that when you leave people (as I will be doing in just under two weeks), you can keep little parts of them. You can keep the story they told you and tell it as an anecdote at a party when you’re getting to know someone else. You can remember the way they handled themselves in a tough situation, and when faced with one yourself, you can draw on what you saw them do. You can treat people the way they treated them. You can remember one of their clever observations and use it to view the world. You can adopt their sense of humor, their taste in movies, their delights in simple things. You can tell stories with the certain inflection they always used. In a class this last semester, we talked about the plagiarism hysteria currently sweeping the country, and leading to phenomenon like turnitin.com, which victimizes students and polices the outcomes of plagiarisms without examining its underlying causes. But I think that when you’ve really gotten to know someone, really spent time with them, you plagiarize them. Little bits of them become all of you, and in this way, it’s like they never left.
So this is why, if you’re a person I’m leaving behind, I’ll miss you because I won’t be able to cheat off you anymore; because there won’t be any more stories or movies or observations to challenge me and shape me. I’m recording here some things I’m going to plagiarize from some of my good friends who won’t be in Arizona. In short, these are things that I admire about you, and I hope that in some small way I have learned from you.
Kristin: The way you feel comfortable in any group or setting, how you laugh
JR: Your ability to make people feel comfortable, to tell a good story (usually with impressions and hand gestures)
Jennifer: Your serenity, how it seems like nothing ever fazes you
Catherine: Your ability to accept things as they come (Daoism, I think it’s called)
Emily: How you embrace, unapologetically, your “dorkiness”
Dustin: Your humility and graciousness
Elizabeth: How you always rave about others, your loyalty
Angela: Your friendliness (and neighborliness)
Aaron: Your ability to BS
Reify: How you adapt to any situation (including hordes of English graduate students)
Juliette: How you always have a smile for everyone, no matter what their story
And the list goes on! I was just going through my Facebook friends list to create this, and I only included people who I thought wouldn't mind making an appearance here. In fact, it reminds me of my favorite goodbye line, from The Last Battle, the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia:
And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
But I have decided that when you leave people (as I will be doing in just under two weeks), you can keep little parts of them. You can keep the story they told you and tell it as an anecdote at a party when you’re getting to know someone else. You can remember the way they handled themselves in a tough situation, and when faced with one yourself, you can draw on what you saw them do. You can treat people the way they treated them. You can remember one of their clever observations and use it to view the world. You can adopt their sense of humor, their taste in movies, their delights in simple things. You can tell stories with the certain inflection they always used. In a class this last semester, we talked about the plagiarism hysteria currently sweeping the country, and leading to phenomenon like turnitin.com, which victimizes students and polices the outcomes of plagiarisms without examining its underlying causes. But I think that when you’ve really gotten to know someone, really spent time with them, you plagiarize them. Little bits of them become all of you, and in this way, it’s like they never left.
So this is why, if you’re a person I’m leaving behind, I’ll miss you because I won’t be able to cheat off you anymore; because there won’t be any more stories or movies or observations to challenge me and shape me. I’m recording here some things I’m going to plagiarize from some of my good friends who won’t be in Arizona. In short, these are things that I admire about you, and I hope that in some small way I have learned from you.
Kristin: The way you feel comfortable in any group or setting, how you laugh
JR: Your ability to make people feel comfortable, to tell a good story (usually with impressions and hand gestures)
Jennifer: Your serenity, how it seems like nothing ever fazes you
Catherine: Your ability to accept things as they come (Daoism, I think it’s called)
Emily: How you embrace, unapologetically, your “dorkiness”
Dustin: Your humility and graciousness
Elizabeth: How you always rave about others, your loyalty
Angela: Your friendliness (and neighborliness)
Aaron: Your ability to BS
Reify: How you adapt to any situation (including hordes of English graduate students)
Juliette: How you always have a smile for everyone, no matter what their story
And the list goes on! I was just going through my Facebook friends list to create this, and I only included people who I thought wouldn't mind making an appearance here. In fact, it reminds me of my favorite goodbye line, from The Last Battle, the final book in the Chronicles of Narnia:
And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Why I Will Never Be Judged By the Content of my Character
I suppose it’s no big secret that American culture holds a double standard for men and women. I am reminded of this, depressingly, while reading the headlines of women’s magazines in line at the grocery story. “Your best summer hair EVER!” proclaims Marie Claire. “Hot Moves to Drive Him Wild” promises Cosmo. Thin and beautiful women grace their covers. Turn to Esquire, and you see, well, more thin and beautiful women. But Esquire also boasts articles about the president and the war, and cultural commentary and essays by David Sedaris and Chuck Klostermann (two of my favorite writers). Okay, there’s also articles about how to score chicks, but even these are very well-written, whereas I’m pretty sure Marie Claire just reguirgitates the same articles every month while slapping a younger, thinner model on the cover. Overall, Esquire is written for a person who is reflective and intelligent – not just about their hip size, but about the state of their world.
Let’s relate this perception of men and women to the plight of Kirstie Alley. Alley was slender in her early career – her Cheers days – but last year sometime started grabbing tabloid covers (or to be specific, enlarged photos of her hiner started grabbing said covers). Alley got a spokeswoman deal with Jenny Craig, and a TV show called Fat Actress. Very publicly, she lost 50 pounds and showed up on Oprah in a bikini.
While spending the night in a hotel a couple weeks ago, I channel flipped to Pulp Fiction on cable TV (which, in case you’re wondering, is still pretty engaging sans swearing and bloodshed). Quentin Tarantino is traditionally credited with saving John Travolta’s career by casting him in Pulp Fiction. The early 1990’s found Travolta doing dreck like Look Who’s Talking/Too/Now, co-starring Kristie Alley. In 1994’s Pulp Fiction, he played a swaggering bad-ass assassin, and won an Oscar nomination. Travolta’s career has been up and down since then. Though finding success with movies like Face/Off and Ladder 49, he was panned widely for Battlefield Earth, based on the novel of L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. (Incidentally, my friend Rob is the only person I know who’s seen Battlefield Earth, and he was only able to stomach 20 minutes, which is something because I’ve seen Rob stomach mass quantities of Jager). Travolta was also criticized recently in the press for saying psychotic drugs caused the Virginia Tech shootings (cringe).
Anyway, I’m watching Pulp Fiction, and one of the commercials is for a re-run of Grease on Nick at Nite. Holy Cow! I thought, John Travolta got enormous between 1978 and 1994! See a comparison here. Then, Google as I might, I could not find a single criticism of Travolta ginormosity, save for the article above which doesn’t even actively criticize Travolta, because his wife Kelly “finds his fuller figure attractive!”
What damaged Kirstie Alley’s career? Being overweight. What revived it? Losing weight. What damaged Travolta’s career? A combination of bad movie choices and a belief in scientology. What revived it? Great acting, great movies. Alley rises and falls on her expanding and contracting waistline; Travolta falls because of his beliefs, his thoughts, his actions. What kills me about this is that Kristie Alley is a scientologist; I didn’t know this until I started researching her career for this post. Do you see women scientologists (Alley, Travolta’s wife Kelly Preston) in the news for their beliefs nearly as much as you do their male counterparts (Travolta, Tom Cruise)?
Female stars are much more likely to end up in the gossip columns for appearance – rumors of eating disorders, weight loss/gain, pregnancy, flashing nether regions, plastic surgery speculations. Male stars end up in the tabloids for what they do or say – Tom Cruise for his heinous behavior on Oprah, Danny DeVito appearing drunk on The View, Isaiah Washington using the word “faggot” on the set of Grey’s Anatomy, Mel Gibson's anti-semitic rant, the time Russell Crowe threw a phone at that bellhop. Just last night I saw Tucker Carlson laughing at presidential candidate John Edwards for this video, where he spends several minutes zhushing his hair before a TV interview. When a man is concerned about his appearance, it is an occasion for hilarity! Yet when Kristie Alley stays at home with her kids and drinks 14 bottles of grape soda per day, suddenly it’s a “health crisis” and she desperately needs help. (As far as I know, Travolta’s grape soda consumption has never been reported in a major news outlet.)
Why should I care? I’m not (yet) planning on being a movie star, but I am planning on making a career out of what I do and say. In fact, the career I’ve chosen for myself will rise and fall on teaching and publishing, and though I like to think that academia is more forgiving than Hollywood, something in me doubts that people are willing to switch gears so quickly. Part of the reason I write about pop culture despite its seeming triviality is that I honestly believe it is a reflection of society and that it has the power to influence people. Though publishing allows for physical anonymity, what I achieve as a professor will also depend on the way I appear to others: teaching, job talks, presenting at conferences, and it feels naïve to believe that people will hold me to Travolta standards instead of Alley standards. What does this double standard mean for the way women should present themselves professionally? Is the solution to embrace the beauty standard, work out and buy the latest fashions? Or do I deny the standard, let myself go, and dress ultra-conservatively? Isn’t it wildly unfair that I have to ask such questions in the first place?
Let’s relate this perception of men and women to the plight of Kirstie Alley. Alley was slender in her early career – her Cheers days – but last year sometime started grabbing tabloid covers (or to be specific, enlarged photos of her hiner started grabbing said covers). Alley got a spokeswoman deal with Jenny Craig, and a TV show called Fat Actress. Very publicly, she lost 50 pounds and showed up on Oprah in a bikini.
While spending the night in a hotel a couple weeks ago, I channel flipped to Pulp Fiction on cable TV (which, in case you’re wondering, is still pretty engaging sans swearing and bloodshed). Quentin Tarantino is traditionally credited with saving John Travolta’s career by casting him in Pulp Fiction. The early 1990’s found Travolta doing dreck like Look Who’s Talking/Too/Now, co-starring Kristie Alley. In 1994’s Pulp Fiction, he played a swaggering bad-ass assassin, and won an Oscar nomination. Travolta’s career has been up and down since then. Though finding success with movies like Face/Off and Ladder 49, he was panned widely for Battlefield Earth, based on the novel of L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. (Incidentally, my friend Rob is the only person I know who’s seen Battlefield Earth, and he was only able to stomach 20 minutes, which is something because I’ve seen Rob stomach mass quantities of Jager). Travolta was also criticized recently in the press for saying psychotic drugs caused the Virginia Tech shootings (cringe).
Anyway, I’m watching Pulp Fiction, and one of the commercials is for a re-run of Grease on Nick at Nite. Holy Cow! I thought, John Travolta got enormous between 1978 and 1994! See a comparison here. Then, Google as I might, I could not find a single criticism of Travolta ginormosity, save for the article above which doesn’t even actively criticize Travolta, because his wife Kelly “finds his fuller figure attractive!”
What damaged Kirstie Alley’s career? Being overweight. What revived it? Losing weight. What damaged Travolta’s career? A combination of bad movie choices and a belief in scientology. What revived it? Great acting, great movies. Alley rises and falls on her expanding and contracting waistline; Travolta falls because of his beliefs, his thoughts, his actions. What kills me about this is that Kristie Alley is a scientologist; I didn’t know this until I started researching her career for this post. Do you see women scientologists (Alley, Travolta’s wife Kelly Preston) in the news for their beliefs nearly as much as you do their male counterparts (Travolta, Tom Cruise)?
Female stars are much more likely to end up in the gossip columns for appearance – rumors of eating disorders, weight loss/gain, pregnancy, flashing nether regions, plastic surgery speculations. Male stars end up in the tabloids for what they do or say – Tom Cruise for his heinous behavior on Oprah, Danny DeVito appearing drunk on The View, Isaiah Washington using the word “faggot” on the set of Grey’s Anatomy, Mel Gibson's anti-semitic rant, the time Russell Crowe threw a phone at that bellhop. Just last night I saw Tucker Carlson laughing at presidential candidate John Edwards for this video, where he spends several minutes zhushing his hair before a TV interview. When a man is concerned about his appearance, it is an occasion for hilarity! Yet when Kristie Alley stays at home with her kids and drinks 14 bottles of grape soda per day, suddenly it’s a “health crisis” and she desperately needs help. (As far as I know, Travolta’s grape soda consumption has never been reported in a major news outlet.)
Why should I care? I’m not (yet) planning on being a movie star, but I am planning on making a career out of what I do and say. In fact, the career I’ve chosen for myself will rise and fall on teaching and publishing, and though I like to think that academia is more forgiving than Hollywood, something in me doubts that people are willing to switch gears so quickly. Part of the reason I write about pop culture despite its seeming triviality is that I honestly believe it is a reflection of society and that it has the power to influence people. Though publishing allows for physical anonymity, what I achieve as a professor will also depend on the way I appear to others: teaching, job talks, presenting at conferences, and it feels naïve to believe that people will hold me to Travolta standards instead of Alley standards. What does this double standard mean for the way women should present themselves professionally? Is the solution to embrace the beauty standard, work out and buy the latest fashions? Or do I deny the standard, let myself go, and dress ultra-conservatively? Isn’t it wildly unfair that I have to ask such questions in the first place?
Monday, July 2, 2007
Why I’m Now Titling My Posts Like This
Recently, I’ve been compulsively reading Slate.com, a compendium of news and opinion pieces mostly about contemporary culture. I find that when I’m presented with a page from Slate, I am compelled to click on at least four or five articles and end up not only finding out something new but something that I didn’t even know I was interested in. Why? Because their titles are question-posing, typically using words like How and Why. For example:
“Why There Are So Many Movies About Rats”
“Why Does Starbucks Sell Music So Well?”
“How John McCain’s Struggling Campaign Could Recover”
From Slate, we learn the importance not of thorough research, not of creating an all-encompassing outline, not in careful revision, but the absolute necessity of creating a good and interesting question. This is not only important for producing the impetus to write, but for our readers to be engaged. So I’m going to try to use such titles more from now on.
ALSO (randomly)
How excited am I about this book?
And I will be posting a list of my simple things. I’m just coagulating them all for one post.
“Why There Are So Many Movies About Rats”
“Why Does Starbucks Sell Music So Well?”
“How John McCain’s Struggling Campaign Could Recover”
From Slate, we learn the importance not of thorough research, not of creating an all-encompassing outline, not in careful revision, but the absolute necessity of creating a good and interesting question. This is not only important for producing the impetus to write, but for our readers to be engaged. So I’m going to try to use such titles more from now on.
ALSO (randomly)
How excited am I about this book?
And I will be posting a list of my simple things. I’m just coagulating them all for one post.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Delight in the Simple Things
Today’s post is derived from a line in the song “Simple Things” by The Renaissance Men. Recently, I’ve decided that true happiness in life comes from finding and appreciating small things. I mentioned to Kristin that this was one of the reasons that she was fun to be around: she finds really small things to get really happy about, like say, chicken pesto. I brought up this idea to my parents on vacation too, noting that my mom gets really excited when there’s a mini coffee pot in her hotel room.
This is not to say that large things – family, friends, weather – shouldn’t excite us, but that small things are more reliable, more consistent, and easier to control. What inevitably happens, though, is that although we don’t always take time to be conscious of our simple things. We just kind of passively enjoy them when they occur. I think that we can say that we definitively know someone when we know their simple things. If you had only $5 to buy something, or an hour or two to spend with someone you loved, do you know what you would buy or do to make them happy?
Some rules for defining simple things:
1. It’s got to be something that’s accessible; something you could make happen almost every day. So it can’t be like Christmas dinner, or that one great night out with all your friends. You can’t be happy only about things that happened in the past.
2. It’s got to be inexpensive (relatively speaking) and not especially time-consuming.
3. It can be a small physical object, or it can be a feeling or an experience, but it must be easily replicated.
4. It should be pretty unique to you. It can’t be something that makes everyone happy (finding your simple things should be a process of self-discovery). It can’t be lame, like “a child’s smile.”
5. These things must give you genuine delight. It doesn’t have to last a whole day, but there should be at least a moment when you are really pleased.
I’m going to try to be conscious of these things over the next few days to see what I come up with. Here are some that I thought of for other people.
LaRue: Petting squirrels, People’s ancestry
JR: Telling stories, doing impressions (or a combination of both)
Emily: Chatting in the EGSA lounge
Jennifer: Feeding people, Coordinating hanging out with food
Kristin: Mochas, babies
Laura: Reminiscing about childhood, bad movies, jalapenos
This is not to say that large things – family, friends, weather – shouldn’t excite us, but that small things are more reliable, more consistent, and easier to control. What inevitably happens, though, is that although we don’t always take time to be conscious of our simple things. We just kind of passively enjoy them when they occur. I think that we can say that we definitively know someone when we know their simple things. If you had only $5 to buy something, or an hour or two to spend with someone you loved, do you know what you would buy or do to make them happy?
Some rules for defining simple things:
1. It’s got to be something that’s accessible; something you could make happen almost every day. So it can’t be like Christmas dinner, or that one great night out with all your friends. You can’t be happy only about things that happened in the past.
2. It’s got to be inexpensive (relatively speaking) and not especially time-consuming.
3. It can be a small physical object, or it can be a feeling or an experience, but it must be easily replicated.
4. It should be pretty unique to you. It can’t be something that makes everyone happy (finding your simple things should be a process of self-discovery). It can’t be lame, like “a child’s smile.”
5. These things must give you genuine delight. It doesn’t have to last a whole day, but there should be at least a moment when you are really pleased.
I’m going to try to be conscious of these things over the next few days to see what I come up with. Here are some that I thought of for other people.
LaRue: Petting squirrels, People’s ancestry
JR: Telling stories, doing impressions (or a combination of both)
Emily: Chatting in the EGSA lounge
Jennifer: Feeding people, Coordinating hanging out with food
Kristin: Mochas, babies
Laura: Reminiscing about childhood, bad movies, jalapenos
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Dear John Krasinski
Dear John Krasinski,
You make me laugh every week in The Office. Oh, how I love your well-timed eyebrow raises, your joshing dork-charm, your floppy hair. Because you are my TV boyfriend, I have vowed to support you in your career. If (when) we get married, my last name won’t even sound that different.
But John, I cannot support your first major motion picture, License to Wed. Robin Williams? And not dark One Hour Photo Robin Williams, or paternal Good Will Hunting Robin Williams, or even inspirational Dead Poets Society Robin Williams! We’re talking Patch Adams Robin Williams! RV Robin Williams! Dear Lord, John, have you seen Bicentennial Man? Or -- *gasps, dry heaves* -- Flubber???!!!
Now I know Mandy Moore is really pretty. And I know that being in a rom-com will pay the bills and maybe land you a nicer, better part, perhaps a buddy-cop movie, or a Serious Drama. But you’re better than this, John. You deserve better. (Incidentally, I forgot the title and had to look it up on IMDB, which should tell you something. I was also going to re-watch the trailer to get more fodder for this post, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. In fact, I don’t know that I need to. That image of you dancing ridonkulously as well as the terrifying eyes of the fake twin babies will be burned into my consciousness for weeks.) In the future, and for the sake of our relationship, please stay away from the Krapinski.
Luv,
Faith
You make me laugh every week in The Office. Oh, how I love your well-timed eyebrow raises, your joshing dork-charm, your floppy hair. Because you are my TV boyfriend, I have vowed to support you in your career. If (when) we get married, my last name won’t even sound that different.
But John, I cannot support your first major motion picture, License to Wed. Robin Williams? And not dark One Hour Photo Robin Williams, or paternal Good Will Hunting Robin Williams, or even inspirational Dead Poets Society Robin Williams! We’re talking Patch Adams Robin Williams! RV Robin Williams! Dear Lord, John, have you seen Bicentennial Man? Or -- *gasps, dry heaves* -- Flubber???!!!
Now I know Mandy Moore is really pretty. And I know that being in a rom-com will pay the bills and maybe land you a nicer, better part, perhaps a buddy-cop movie, or a Serious Drama. But you’re better than this, John. You deserve better. (Incidentally, I forgot the title and had to look it up on IMDB, which should tell you something. I was also going to re-watch the trailer to get more fodder for this post, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. In fact, I don’t know that I need to. That image of you dancing ridonkulously as well as the terrifying eyes of the fake twin babies will be burned into my consciousness for weeks.) In the future, and for the sake of our relationship, please stay away from the Krapinski.
Luv,
Faith
Monday, June 25, 2007
Wisdom From Rich Mullins
I just finished reading a “devotional biography” of Rich Mullins, a popular Christian music artist who died suddenly of a heart attack in 1997. The book combines quotes from Rich as well as others’ stories about him. I was interested in the book because just before he died, Mullins was considering converting to Catholicism. He was inspired by the work of St. Francis and even started his own semi-monastic order called “The Kid Brothers of St. Frank.” At the height of fame, he gave up touring, gave himself a $24,000 annual salary, donated the rest of his money to charity, and moved to a Native American reservation to teach music to kids. The book gave me a lot to think about, so I’m copying a few choice selections for you below.
Quotes from Rich Mullins:
I hear people say, “Why do you want to go to church? They are all just hypocrites.” I never understood why going to church made you a hypocrite because nobody goes to church because they’re perfect. If you’ve got it all together, you don’t need to go. You can go jogging with all the other perfect people on Sunday morning.
And this is what liturgy offers that all the razzamatazz of our modern worship can’t touch. You don’t go home from church going, “Oh, I am just moved to tears.” You go home from church going, “Wow, I just took communion, and you know what? If Augustine were alive today he would have had it with me and maybe he is and maybe he did.”
Whatever church you are in you should just stay there. They are all equally messed up.
I am a Christian, not because someone explained the nuts and bolts of Christianity to me, but because there were people willing to be the nuts and bolts.
God did not give Joseph any special information about how to get from being the son of a nomad in Palestine to being Pharoah’s right hand man in Egypt. What he did give Joseph was eleven jealous brothers, the attention of a loose and vengeful woman, the ability to do the service of interpreting dreams and managing people’s affairs, and the grace to do that faithfully wherever he was.
Many people believe that if you give e tithe to the church, then God will make you rich. Why? If you tithe, you get rid of ten percent of the root of all evil! You should be giving ninety percent because God can handle money better than we can.
[Speaking of legalism] I think it would be really easy to say, “I think what would really please God is if I don’t dance, I don’t chew, and I don’t go with girls who do.” It would be easy to say, “Oh gee I think what will really please God is if I become and evangelist and convert a thousand people.” It’s much more difficult I think for me to become who I am and who He created me to be.
Growing up protestant, I always thought of a monastery as a place where cowards went, people who can’t deal with the world. When you really begin to research some of this stuff, you find that these are some of the bravest people. Anyone who decides to face themselves head-on is a very brave person.
[To a group of Christian writers] Stop thinking of what you’re doing as a ministry. Start realizing that your ministry is how much of a tip you leave when you eat in a restaurant; when you leave a hotel room whether you leave it messed up or not; whether you flush your toilet or not. Your ministry is the way you love people. You love people when you call your wife and say, “I’m going to be late for dinner,” instead of letting her burn the meal. You love people when maybe you cook a meal for your wife when you know she’s really tired. If you are a Christian, ministry is just an accident of being alive. I don’t know that you can divide up your life and say, “This is my ministry,” and “This is my other thing,” because the fruits of Christianity affect everybody around us.
Stories about Rich:
One of the most memorable things was Rich’s dedication to spending time with Jesus. One year his Lenten exercise was to stay up one hour after he wanted to go to bed so that he could spend time with Jesus. The disciples, he said, couldn’t stay awake with Jesus when he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. Rich didn’t do it to be heroic; he just wanted to do something Jesus asked of his friends.
When Rich lived with our family, each morning on his way to school he took a cup of coffee with him. After a month or so, I noticed that there were no mugs in our cupboard. When Rich got home that night, I said that we were missing our mugs. He said, “Oh I think I have some in my truck.” We found at least 20 mugs sitting in the truck. Some were broken, and some were not even ours. For Rich, material possessions were things to be used, not possessed.
[From Rich’s accountant] He said he wanted to live at the average working man’s wage, which at the time was about $24,000 per year. Obviously, his songs were on the radio, and his albums were selling well, so he actually made several times more than that. He told me he did not want to know how much he made because it would make it harder to give away.
Quotes from Rich Mullins:
I hear people say, “Why do you want to go to church? They are all just hypocrites.” I never understood why going to church made you a hypocrite because nobody goes to church because they’re perfect. If you’ve got it all together, you don’t need to go. You can go jogging with all the other perfect people on Sunday morning.
And this is what liturgy offers that all the razzamatazz of our modern worship can’t touch. You don’t go home from church going, “Oh, I am just moved to tears.” You go home from church going, “Wow, I just took communion, and you know what? If Augustine were alive today he would have had it with me and maybe he is and maybe he did.”
Whatever church you are in you should just stay there. They are all equally messed up.
I am a Christian, not because someone explained the nuts and bolts of Christianity to me, but because there were people willing to be the nuts and bolts.
God did not give Joseph any special information about how to get from being the son of a nomad in Palestine to being Pharoah’s right hand man in Egypt. What he did give Joseph was eleven jealous brothers, the attention of a loose and vengeful woman, the ability to do the service of interpreting dreams and managing people’s affairs, and the grace to do that faithfully wherever he was.
Many people believe that if you give e tithe to the church, then God will make you rich. Why? If you tithe, you get rid of ten percent of the root of all evil! You should be giving ninety percent because God can handle money better than we can.
[Speaking of legalism] I think it would be really easy to say, “I think what would really please God is if I don’t dance, I don’t chew, and I don’t go with girls who do.” It would be easy to say, “Oh gee I think what will really please God is if I become and evangelist and convert a thousand people.” It’s much more difficult I think for me to become who I am and who He created me to be.
Growing up protestant, I always thought of a monastery as a place where cowards went, people who can’t deal with the world. When you really begin to research some of this stuff, you find that these are some of the bravest people. Anyone who decides to face themselves head-on is a very brave person.
[To a group of Christian writers] Stop thinking of what you’re doing as a ministry. Start realizing that your ministry is how much of a tip you leave when you eat in a restaurant; when you leave a hotel room whether you leave it messed up or not; whether you flush your toilet or not. Your ministry is the way you love people. You love people when you call your wife and say, “I’m going to be late for dinner,” instead of letting her burn the meal. You love people when maybe you cook a meal for your wife when you know she’s really tired. If you are a Christian, ministry is just an accident of being alive. I don’t know that you can divide up your life and say, “This is my ministry,” and “This is my other thing,” because the fruits of Christianity affect everybody around us.
Stories about Rich:
One of the most memorable things was Rich’s dedication to spending time with Jesus. One year his Lenten exercise was to stay up one hour after he wanted to go to bed so that he could spend time with Jesus. The disciples, he said, couldn’t stay awake with Jesus when he was praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. Rich didn’t do it to be heroic; he just wanted to do something Jesus asked of his friends.
When Rich lived with our family, each morning on his way to school he took a cup of coffee with him. After a month or so, I noticed that there were no mugs in our cupboard. When Rich got home that night, I said that we were missing our mugs. He said, “Oh I think I have some in my truck.” We found at least 20 mugs sitting in the truck. Some were broken, and some were not even ours. For Rich, material possessions were things to be used, not possessed.
[From Rich’s accountant] He said he wanted to live at the average working man’s wage, which at the time was about $24,000 per year. Obviously, his songs were on the radio, and his albums were selling well, so he actually made several times more than that. He told me he did not want to know how much he made because it would make it harder to give away.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
More on Borat
On my last post about George Saunders’ take on Borat, Brady (on Facebook) makes the excellent point that it’s unfair to hold up documentaries to traditional journalistic standards, and I couldn’t agree more. This mythic “standard of truth” was what irritated me about the whole James Fry vs. Oprah debacle: Oprah got mad because James Frey was representing as “truth” was Oprah did not believe was truth, but Oprah never bothered to consider the messy meaning of truth, or what it means to tell the truth, or the circumstances under which one is obligated to tell the truth, or the artistic sensibilities of memoir as a valid genre, or the complexities of memory. No. Oprah felt that some “facts” were “wrong” and got on TV and yelled at James Frey. So I agree that Sacha Baron Cohen (creator of Borat) and Michael Moore deserve some slack.
Brady also writes that Borat is really about Borat and his stunts, and maybe that’s whence the big laffs in the movie, but the stick-to-your-ribs sinking feeling that accompanies you out of the movie theater is from the moments where Borat, with his outsider charm, forces the viewer to confront his society. As I asked myself leaving the theater, “I live in a country where people want to kill gays?” This is not information I have to confront every day (straight privilege!), and I originally thought the movie was successful at jarring me into revelations about my culture.
And this is why Saunders’ argument is so compelling. He contends that Borat appears to be “edgy” and shocking and attention-grabbing and jaw-dropping and an indictment of modern culture. But really all Borat does is make fun of people it’s okay to make fun of : (1) People in power -- middle-class people, white people, Christians and (2) People without a voice – villagers in Kazakhstan. For a movie with a backwards, anti-semitic outsider as a protagonist, its targets are surprisingly politically correct. Saunders further argues that Borat is not trying to Make A Point (as would likely be the case for someone like Michael Moore); instead, he’s trying to make a buck. In this way, the movie isn’t really compelling at all. It’s really rather mundane and somewhat mean-spirited. It’s not that Borat’s facts are wrong, it’s that his motives are impure.
Roger Ebert says that one judges a movie based on how well it accomplishes what it sets out to do. Borat was not marketed as truthful or journalistic, and we can’t hold filmmakers to a standard of Truth if they don’t represent their movies that way. But before we start revering Borat as a piece of cultural criticism, we need to examine what and who is being criticized.
Brady also writes that Borat is really about Borat and his stunts, and maybe that’s whence the big laffs in the movie, but the stick-to-your-ribs sinking feeling that accompanies you out of the movie theater is from the moments where Borat, with his outsider charm, forces the viewer to confront his society. As I asked myself leaving the theater, “I live in a country where people want to kill gays?” This is not information I have to confront every day (straight privilege!), and I originally thought the movie was successful at jarring me into revelations about my culture.
And this is why Saunders’ argument is so compelling. He contends that Borat appears to be “edgy” and shocking and attention-grabbing and jaw-dropping and an indictment of modern culture. But really all Borat does is make fun of people it’s okay to make fun of : (1) People in power -- middle-class people, white people, Christians and (2) People without a voice – villagers in Kazakhstan. For a movie with a backwards, anti-semitic outsider as a protagonist, its targets are surprisingly politically correct. Saunders further argues that Borat is not trying to Make A Point (as would likely be the case for someone like Michael Moore); instead, he’s trying to make a buck. In this way, the movie isn’t really compelling at all. It’s really rather mundane and somewhat mean-spirited. It’s not that Borat’s facts are wrong, it’s that his motives are impure.
Roger Ebert says that one judges a movie based on how well it accomplishes what it sets out to do. Borat was not marketed as truthful or journalistic, and we can’t hold filmmakers to a standard of Truth if they don’t represent their movies that way. But before we start revering Borat as a piece of cultural criticism, we need to examine what and who is being criticized.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
For those who enjoyed Borat . . .
Borat: The Memo
I've been meaning to post a link to this for some time. It's written by one of my favorite writers, George Saunders, for the New Yorker. Saunders writes the piece as though he's an exec producer of Borat, discussing what "extras" should be added for the DVD release. Essentially, he's making the argument that the movie takes cheap shots at easy targets (e.g. "rednecks"), failing to show a fuller picture of the complexities of the people behind the sterotypes. Though I read this several weeks ago (thanks to Steph for recommending it), it's been stuck in my head. I'm very interested to see what other folks think of it.
I've been meaning to post a link to this for some time. It's written by one of my favorite writers, George Saunders, for the New Yorker. Saunders writes the piece as though he's an exec producer of Borat, discussing what "extras" should be added for the DVD release. Essentially, he's making the argument that the movie takes cheap shots at easy targets (e.g. "rednecks"), failing to show a fuller picture of the complexities of the people behind the sterotypes. Though I read this several weeks ago (thanks to Steph for recommending it), it's been stuck in my head. I'm very interested to see what other folks think of it.
Monday, June 18, 2007
I want to be little parts of different things
Recently, I’ve been thinking that our society allows for very little nuance or ambiguity in our beliefs. For example, you have to choose a religion. Church-hopping with my parents as a kid and then also with LaRue, I’ve found that I don’t want to commit wholeheartedly to one religion, I want different parts of different religions. I like the community atmosphere of the Orthodox church, the worship music at The Crossing, the communion at the Catholic church. How come I can’t be different percentages of different religions?
This same thing happens with politics. What if you were just given, like ten votes, and you got to distribute those among the candidates? So if you thought Barack Obama’s health care plan was great, but you wanted a woman president, and you’re pro-life, you could put in four votes for Obama, and three for Hilary and three for a Republican candidate (or something like that). This might force people to actually think about the differences between the candidates instead of just voting for someone who agrees with “most” of what they believe. In fact, I think I remember David P telling me about some kind of election reform that was similar to this. David, care to comment?
I hope I don’t seem as though I’m noncommittal. I believe that ideological commitments have many places and purposes. I just think that if people weren’t given the option of pigeonholing their beliefs in one place, they might be forced to think about and articulate those beliefs more clearly.
This same thing happens with politics. What if you were just given, like ten votes, and you got to distribute those among the candidates? So if you thought Barack Obama’s health care plan was great, but you wanted a woman president, and you’re pro-life, you could put in four votes for Obama, and three for Hilary and three for a Republican candidate (or something like that). This might force people to actually think about the differences between the candidates instead of just voting for someone who agrees with “most” of what they believe. In fact, I think I remember David P telling me about some kind of election reform that was similar to this. David, care to comment?
I hope I don’t seem as though I’m noncommittal. I believe that ideological commitments have many places and purposes. I just think that if people weren’t given the option of pigeonholing their beliefs in one place, they might be forced to think about and articulate those beliefs more clearly.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Vox Populi, Vox Dei
Or, the voice of the people is the voice of God. Here at Things Other Things, I’m always trying to be responsive. So I’ve decided to take a moment today to respond to some of the insightful feedback nuggets you nice folks have left for me.
In re: My post on Why TV is better than the Movies, Lesley astutely points out that a major downside of TV is that it gets abruptly canceled. I too have felt the sting of early cancellation! Curse you NBC for taunting me with the potent intellectualism of Studio 60, for once making me believe that America Is Real Smart, and then yanking out the carpet of Sorkin Speak! May your fall lineup rot like Olive Garden leftovers! A pox upon your house, HBO, for delightfully unraveling the mysteries of Carnivale only to tie up so tantalizing few by the end of season two that I was forced to get my fix of Biblical metaphor from *gasp*Network TV. (In fact, reflecting on those two shows in particular, I can see that both seemed to suffer for being too smart. Lesson today is that people hate smart.)
Anyway, I see Lesley’s conundrum, but I don’t think that movies necessarily do a better job of creating satisfying endings. For every Sixth Sense, there’s a The Village. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked out of a movie with some burning unanswered question due to lazy filmmaking. The best examples I can think of are Lost in Translation and The Piano. “What?” you’re sitting there thinking. “What about?” Or “Whatever happened to?” My point is that TV shows often get cancelled and thus never end, but movies do not necessarily have more satisfying or effective closure. Thanks for this comment Lesley, and for being my friend even when I was a nerd in high school.
In re: My post on Why I Like Rosie, JR writes that just because someone is loud and obnoxious does not mean they are an effective communicator; therefore, Rosie’s rants on the View don’t actually accomplish anything. I would agree with JR that she’s not making any converts. I would argue that Rosie draws attention to issues that the American public prefers not to think about, and certainly doesn’t wish to discuss in the comfort of a morning talk show. I’m concerned that we live in a society where none of our popular culture reflects the Real World we live in. In our parents’ day, folks like Bob Dylan topped the charts with songs that talked about, for example, the complicated ethics of war and peace: “How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man?” I randomly turned on the radio today to hear Fergie pondering the age-old question: “How come every time you come round my London London Bridge wanna go down?” With the exception of maybe Jon Stewart (and even he uses humor), can you think of any popular entertainers who consistently address Dylan’s issues? And this is why although Rosie isn’t a solution, she’s certainly a step in the right direction. However uncouthly, she can (London) bridge the gulf between the Paris Hilton-obsessed public and the troubles of the world it inhabits. Thanks for reading my blog, JR. I hope your London Bridge always goes down (Or something. I don’t actually know what that phrase means. As the Good Book says, “To the pure, all things are pure” Titus 1:15).
In re: My post on my favorite American Idol perfs, Kristin has helpfully alerted me to a circa 2002 Kelly Clarkson performance, which, like Kristin, is pretty fabulous. Watch it immediately! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64S5Rn9mlxs
In re: my post on Ian McEwan’s Saturday Jennifer writes (NOT because she’s procrastinating studying for comps, of course) about McEwan’s simile of the smell of hay drying in August. Jennifer objects that she would actually think something like this, but that hay dries in May, not August. Well, Jennifer, McEwan’s character lives in London, which may affect the time he dries his hay (those zany Brits! Drying hay year round!) Or perhaps he, like most of us, wouldn’t know when hay dries, and this is just another example of McEwan messing up point of view. Jennifer also writes that it is a trademark of modernism to write about the mundane in a grand way. She is correct, and I thought I said that in the post. If I wasn’t clear, what I meant was that McEwan is trying to achieve an effect of postmodernism by writing about the mundane, but his modernist impulses keep overtaking the writing. If you’re going to be pomo, for crying out loud, just be pomo, don’t try to dress it up. I’m saying that the writing feels torn between the two and is the worse for it. And I was going to make the connection not only to Ulysses, but also to Mrs. Dalloway, thankyouverymuch, but then I got tired and remembered I was supposed to be on vacation. Thus, Jennifer, I will allow you to cook me dinner sometime and I will pontificate for you to no end (or at least until dessert).
Thanks for the comments, folks! Please keep writing!
In re: My post on Why TV is better than the Movies, Lesley astutely points out that a major downside of TV is that it gets abruptly canceled. I too have felt the sting of early cancellation! Curse you NBC for taunting me with the potent intellectualism of Studio 60, for once making me believe that America Is Real Smart, and then yanking out the carpet of Sorkin Speak! May your fall lineup rot like Olive Garden leftovers! A pox upon your house, HBO, for delightfully unraveling the mysteries of Carnivale only to tie up so tantalizing few by the end of season two that I was forced to get my fix of Biblical metaphor from *gasp*Network TV. (In fact, reflecting on those two shows in particular, I can see that both seemed to suffer for being too smart. Lesson today is that people hate smart.)
Anyway, I see Lesley’s conundrum, but I don’t think that movies necessarily do a better job of creating satisfying endings. For every Sixth Sense, there’s a The Village. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked out of a movie with some burning unanswered question due to lazy filmmaking. The best examples I can think of are Lost in Translation and The Piano. “What?” you’re sitting there thinking. “What about?” Or “Whatever happened to?” My point is that TV shows often get cancelled and thus never end, but movies do not necessarily have more satisfying or effective closure. Thanks for this comment Lesley, and for being my friend even when I was a nerd in high school.
In re: My post on Why I Like Rosie, JR writes that just because someone is loud and obnoxious does not mean they are an effective communicator; therefore, Rosie’s rants on the View don’t actually accomplish anything. I would agree with JR that she’s not making any converts. I would argue that Rosie draws attention to issues that the American public prefers not to think about, and certainly doesn’t wish to discuss in the comfort of a morning talk show. I’m concerned that we live in a society where none of our popular culture reflects the Real World we live in. In our parents’ day, folks like Bob Dylan topped the charts with songs that talked about, for example, the complicated ethics of war and peace: “How many roads must a man walk down, before you can call him a man?” I randomly turned on the radio today to hear Fergie pondering the age-old question: “How come every time you come round my London London Bridge wanna go down?” With the exception of maybe Jon Stewart (and even he uses humor), can you think of any popular entertainers who consistently address Dylan’s issues? And this is why although Rosie isn’t a solution, she’s certainly a step in the right direction. However uncouthly, she can (London) bridge the gulf between the Paris Hilton-obsessed public and the troubles of the world it inhabits. Thanks for reading my blog, JR. I hope your London Bridge always goes down (Or something. I don’t actually know what that phrase means. As the Good Book says, “To the pure, all things are pure” Titus 1:15).
In re: My post on my favorite American Idol perfs, Kristin has helpfully alerted me to a circa 2002 Kelly Clarkson performance, which, like Kristin, is pretty fabulous. Watch it immediately! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64S5Rn9mlxs
In re: my post on Ian McEwan’s Saturday Jennifer writes (NOT because she’s procrastinating studying for comps, of course) about McEwan’s simile of the smell of hay drying in August. Jennifer objects that she would actually think something like this, but that hay dries in May, not August. Well, Jennifer, McEwan’s character lives in London, which may affect the time he dries his hay (those zany Brits! Drying hay year round!) Or perhaps he, like most of us, wouldn’t know when hay dries, and this is just another example of McEwan messing up point of view. Jennifer also writes that it is a trademark of modernism to write about the mundane in a grand way. She is correct, and I thought I said that in the post. If I wasn’t clear, what I meant was that McEwan is trying to achieve an effect of postmodernism by writing about the mundane, but his modernist impulses keep overtaking the writing. If you’re going to be pomo, for crying out loud, just be pomo, don’t try to dress it up. I’m saying that the writing feels torn between the two and is the worse for it. And I was going to make the connection not only to Ulysses, but also to Mrs. Dalloway, thankyouverymuch, but then I got tired and remembered I was supposed to be on vacation. Thus, Jennifer, I will allow you to cook me dinner sometime and I will pontificate for you to no end (or at least until dessert).
Thanks for the comments, folks! Please keep writing!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Travels, Anti-Materialism, Contemporary Fiction/Taco Bell, Early Rising
Michelle Williams’ New Haircut. Okay, most importantly: Should I get my hair cut like this?
Travels. Here are the places I’ve been in 2007: Chicago; Puerto Vallarta (Mexico); Osage Beach, MO; St. Louis, MO; Atchison, KS; Louisville, KY; New York City; Tucson, AZ; Columbus, OH; Lawrence, KS; Green Bay, WI; Minocqua, WI
Anti-Materialism. I try to be anti-materialistic. I believe in being happy with the bare minimum because I believe that it is the goal of big companies to convince you that what you’ve got isn’t any good. For example, Apple tries to convince you that your Ipod is old and out-of-date, thus conning you into buying a new one. So I try to be happy with what I’ve got. My cell phone, for example, is pretty ancient. I kept my last laptop for three years. But I seem to keep getting stymied in my anti-materialism by things breaking. I would have happily gone on with my old laptop except that the battery and power cord gave out (which is something, considering both survived the Fire of ’06, plugged in on the power strip right next to the pyromaniacal air conditioner). I can be satisfied with a computer that doesn’t burn DVDs; I cannot be happy with a computer that only stays on for an hour at a time. How is one supposed to be satisfied with what one’s got when it keeps breaking?
The State of Contemporary Fiction and Taco Bell. I recently read Ian McEwan’s Saturday and I didn’t like it, despite the fact that it’s received rave critical reviews. This book suffered from a problem I see everywhere in contemporary fiction – it elevates the mundane to the majestic with really no purpose except metaphor. The result is descriptions like this one of a squash match (though the close-third person narrator): “Every point is now a drama, a playlet of sudden reversals” (115) and the main character is full of “seriousness and fury” as well as “the incredible urge to win, biological as thirst” (115). And though I’ve never played squash, I read that and think, “Really? You’re in a squash match thinking of phrases like ‘seriousness and fury’?” Because I’ve sat and stared at a blinking cursor for hours and never come up with anything half as poetic as “seriousness and fury.” I’m not even convinced that Ian McEwan himself would think something like that such a situation. Or take his description of a smell” “like warm hay drying in the fields in August.” I get that a character might smell something and think it smells like hay, even drying hay. But the specificity of warm hay? In fields? In August? Now, there’s several problems here, foremost that McEwan isn’t considering his character’s point of view, but what I’m concerned with is the fact of window dressing. McEwan feels the postmodern impulse to represent the mundane (and rejects the modern impulse to be grandiose or epic), but he still wants to write in an epic style. He uses his prose to elevate the mundane. Why? Because people’s lives are boring, but fiction can’t be.
I’m connecting this to Taco Bell, and then I’ll finish my point. Really everything at Taco Bell is some combination of the same ingredients: cheese, meat, shell, lettuce. And yet Taco Bell has like 50 incarnations of these ingredients on their menu to convince you that there’s always something new:, Gordita, Chalupa, that thing that is shaped like a stop sign and you can apparently eat anywhere! They’ve even convinced you of Fourthmeal – a whole extra meal of the day for eating the same damn thing! Anyway, I feel like McEwan’s problem is that he’s really just taking taco parts and marketing them as a Crunchwrap Supreme. I read the above section of his book, and I’m thinking “squash game” and he’s thinking “metaphor for the struggle for male dominance in society as manifested in competitive sports” or something, and no amount of fancy writing is able to convince me otherwise.
“But Faith, isn’t that pretty anti-postmodern of you to say that a squash game is just a squash game? Doesn’t that imply that there’s some kind of Objective Reality out there?”
I guess I’m arguing that McEwans’ primary problem is that he describes everything with such intensity and Significance that it rings false. The premise of Saturday is that it’s one day in the life (one Saturday) of the main character and in order to justify why he’s chosen this Saturday as opposed to any other day, McEwan creates passages like the one above. I’m arguing that if you’re going to write about A Day in the Life, you need to have a really good reason as to why you’ve picked that day.
Early Rising. When I move to Arizona, I want to start getting up earlier. Like 5am early. I’m just noting this here so there’s some means of accountability.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
What I Learned in Graduate School (besides stuff about books)
1. I learned that I have a tendency to stress out about things that end up not being a big deal in the end. Last summer I did some journaling because I was so stressed out about things that were going to happen this year. Reflecting on those writings, I realized that really none of it was anything I should have panicked about. This connects to Emily’s extremely well-noted quote on her Facebook page about how graduate school is a time for discovering your neuroses.
2. I am capable of doing many things. This past year I applied to nine PhD programs, was accepted to eight, visited three. I presented at three regional and one national conference. I conducted an intensive ethnography and wrote a master’s thesis about it. I took four graduate-level classes. I taught three classes, and conducted weekly tutorials. I made many new friends and contacts, and I think I had a pretty good social life. I can do more than I think I can. I think I sometimes sell myself short. I am capable of focusing on the Important things. (As a side note related to my earlier post about GTD, I also found that focusing on the important things does not mean that all the other Things go away.)
3. Teaching sustains me and energizes me. (In a similar vein, I learned the truth of Wendy Bishop’s statement that we must see students as “people trying to make sense of their lives.”)
4. I’m good at school. I like the schedule: the rhythm of the week and the cycle of the school year. I like papers and syllabi.
5. It’s important to learn everyone’s name and their story.
6. Questions are more important than answers. Questions lead you somewhere, energize you, and give you purpose and direction. Answers are finite, oversimplified, and stagnant. Seeking a better question is just as important as seeking a better answer. My whole thesis took off once I bothered to sit down and figure out what questions I was asking rather than what my thesis “said.” It’s okay to answer a question with another question.
7. TV is great. I never really watched TV until graduate school. I find TV to be relaxing but not enervating. It’s also a great way to talk to people. The best TV shows can be analyzed on a higher level or just enjoyed for the pleasure of watching.
8. Instead of trying to distinguish yourself by being smarter than everyone else, focus on working harder than everyone else. When I first came to grad school, I thought everyone was smarter than me, but it turns out they had just read more books. They were thus able to make more connections than I was. Being organized and dependable and on top of my game got me really far in grad school. I first learned this when I was tutoring my first semester. Students would say they didn’t like their comp teachers and I would ask why. I was expecting an answer like “She grades too hard” or “She’s boring” but a lot of the time they would say, “She’s really disorganized.” Somehow, being young and female is equated with being incompetent in our society. People don’t expect you to be creative and brilliant every day – they do expect you to be prepared and have a plan every day.
9. People’s writing tends to reflects who they are as a person.
10. Write early, write often, write about everything, even if it’s garbage. Having anything written is always better than having nothing written.
11. Things that might seem like stumbling blocks can actually be great challenges. There are aspects of the MU program that, at the outset, would have been unappealing to me, but in time turned out to be challenges that I am proud of meeting.
12. Never post to a listserve. Ever.
13. The best cure for my own anxiety is to sit down and make a plan for what I’m going to do about the issue for the next couple of months. Then I break it down into a manageable to-do lists. This does WONDERS for my sanity. It also helps to write down exactly what about the thing stresses me out. Typically when I reflect on this, I feel silly. The problem seems smaller.
14. Be here now. I’ve reflected on many times in my graduate school days and thought “Wow that was a fun day, but I was really stressed out about …” I wish that I’d just lived in the moment more.
Things I’m still learning
1. I’m still learning how to ask for help, and how to depend on other people.
2. I’m learning to not be envious of others’ success.
3. I’m learning to make it work, meaning that I’m learning to take things that are garbage and make them beautiful.
4. I’m trying to distinguish between things that need a lot of my time and attention and even stress and things that do not require anxiety.
5. I need to learn to balance teaching with my own work.
2. I am capable of doing many things. This past year I applied to nine PhD programs, was accepted to eight, visited three. I presented at three regional and one national conference. I conducted an intensive ethnography and wrote a master’s thesis about it. I took four graduate-level classes. I taught three classes, and conducted weekly tutorials. I made many new friends and contacts, and I think I had a pretty good social life. I can do more than I think I can. I think I sometimes sell myself short. I am capable of focusing on the Important things. (As a side note related to my earlier post about GTD, I also found that focusing on the important things does not mean that all the other Things go away.)
3. Teaching sustains me and energizes me. (In a similar vein, I learned the truth of Wendy Bishop’s statement that we must see students as “people trying to make sense of their lives.”)
4. I’m good at school. I like the schedule: the rhythm of the week and the cycle of the school year. I like papers and syllabi.
5. It’s important to learn everyone’s name and their story.
6. Questions are more important than answers. Questions lead you somewhere, energize you, and give you purpose and direction. Answers are finite, oversimplified, and stagnant. Seeking a better question is just as important as seeking a better answer. My whole thesis took off once I bothered to sit down and figure out what questions I was asking rather than what my thesis “said.” It’s okay to answer a question with another question.
7. TV is great. I never really watched TV until graduate school. I find TV to be relaxing but not enervating. It’s also a great way to talk to people. The best TV shows can be analyzed on a higher level or just enjoyed for the pleasure of watching.
8. Instead of trying to distinguish yourself by being smarter than everyone else, focus on working harder than everyone else. When I first came to grad school, I thought everyone was smarter than me, but it turns out they had just read more books. They were thus able to make more connections than I was. Being organized and dependable and on top of my game got me really far in grad school. I first learned this when I was tutoring my first semester. Students would say they didn’t like their comp teachers and I would ask why. I was expecting an answer like “She grades too hard” or “She’s boring” but a lot of the time they would say, “She’s really disorganized.” Somehow, being young and female is equated with being incompetent in our society. People don’t expect you to be creative and brilliant every day – they do expect you to be prepared and have a plan every day.
9. People’s writing tends to reflects who they are as a person.
10. Write early, write often, write about everything, even if it’s garbage. Having anything written is always better than having nothing written.
11. Things that might seem like stumbling blocks can actually be great challenges. There are aspects of the MU program that, at the outset, would have been unappealing to me, but in time turned out to be challenges that I am proud of meeting.
12. Never post to a listserve. Ever.
13. The best cure for my own anxiety is to sit down and make a plan for what I’m going to do about the issue for the next couple of months. Then I break it down into a manageable to-do lists. This does WONDERS for my sanity. It also helps to write down exactly what about the thing stresses me out. Typically when I reflect on this, I feel silly. The problem seems smaller.
14. Be here now. I’ve reflected on many times in my graduate school days and thought “Wow that was a fun day, but I was really stressed out about …” I wish that I’d just lived in the moment more.
Things I’m still learning
1. I’m still learning how to ask for help, and how to depend on other people.
2. I’m learning to not be envious of others’ success.
3. I’m learning to make it work, meaning that I’m learning to take things that are garbage and make them beautiful.
4. I’m trying to distinguish between things that need a lot of my time and attention and even stress and things that do not require anxiety.
5. I need to learn to balance teaching with my own work.
More Kinks in My GTD System
Getting Things Done recommends that you simplify, simplify, simplify by focusing on what your big goals are and only doing the tasks that help you accomplish those goals. I recently complained to Jennifer, my shiny new roommate that I had problems knowing what my goals were. Just like the GTD system seemed to be biased towards corporate types, it also seems to be biased towards people who know more than I do what they want out of life. For example:
Faith’s Goal #1: Be a professor. Okay, that sounds like a good goal, except if I really think about it, it’s pretty fuzzy. A professor where? A big university (such as those I’ve attended thus far)? A teaching college? (Jennifer recommends Truman – thanks Jennifer!) Do I want to teach graduate students or undergraduates? And what if I want to be a writing program administrator? Do I want to do administrative work? And maybe I don’t want to be a professor – I’ve also thought about teaching at a private high school or boarding school. What if I end up disenfranchised with the system of higher ed? Also, I was reading this article in Newsweek and it sounds like these schools could be cool places to work. And what is this “professor” identity anyway? What if my goal to be a professor conflicts with a goal to be a teacher or advisor or dean or chair? Or wife, mother, friend, humanitarian, pet owner, American Idol finalist ….
Another kink in the system is that little things don’t go away just because you don’t focus on them. For example, this semester I did a good job of saying to myself that my thesis was absolutely the number one most important thing (in GTD speak, that’s an MIT or Most Important Task). So when I had a free hour or two and I was trying to figure out what to do, I always went to the thesis. This meant that my thesis got done. But that did not, in fact, make other things go away. Papers did not grade themselves. So while it was great that the thesis went well, I was plagued with a lot of loose ends.
Faith’s Goal #1: Be a professor. Okay, that sounds like a good goal, except if I really think about it, it’s pretty fuzzy. A professor where? A big university (such as those I’ve attended thus far)? A teaching college? (Jennifer recommends Truman – thanks Jennifer!) Do I want to teach graduate students or undergraduates? And what if I want to be a writing program administrator? Do I want to do administrative work? And maybe I don’t want to be a professor – I’ve also thought about teaching at a private high school or boarding school. What if I end up disenfranchised with the system of higher ed? Also, I was reading this article in Newsweek and it sounds like these schools could be cool places to work. And what is this “professor” identity anyway? What if my goal to be a professor conflicts with a goal to be a teacher or advisor or dean or chair? Or wife, mother, friend, humanitarian, pet owner, American Idol finalist ….
Another kink in the system is that little things don’t go away just because you don’t focus on them. For example, this semester I did a good job of saying to myself that my thesis was absolutely the number one most important thing (in GTD speak, that’s an MIT or Most Important Task). So when I had a free hour or two and I was trying to figure out what to do, I always went to the thesis. This meant that my thesis got done. But that did not, in fact, make other things go away. Papers did not grade themselves. So while it was great that the thesis went well, I was plagued with a lot of loose ends.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Why I’ll Miss Rosie
Rosie O’Donnell’s recent stint on the View got me thinking about the days (mid-90’s) when I used to watch her talk show. I remember that I really liked her talk show, and because I can’t stand the View, I’ve been trying to figure out what exactly was so appealing about it (to eighth-grade Faith). What I remember first and foremost was that she was a pop culture fan, like me. When famous people came on, she got star struck just like I did at home, and because she was so star-struck she didn’t try to make the show as much about herself (like say, Jay Leno, who will cut off an interviewee at any chance to make his own joke). It seems that now Rosie has devolved into self-caricature, which is why it’s so easy for people to make fun of her. Clearly, she understands that she was brought to the show to play a part.
It’s also one of my pet peeves when people complain that Rosie (or other celebrities) are “political.” I say that in a country where half the population doesn’t vote, anyone famous being political is a pretty good thing. I liked that she said controversial things about the war on TV, because at least it got people talking about major issues and she was the rare host who could go from talking about the war to talking about American Idol intelligently.
(But Faith! All Rosie ever does is yell! And all anyone else does is yell back! How is this at all effective?)
First, let’s be honest, the reason people kept talking about her and Hasselbeck’s showdown was that it was between middle-aged women who (if we are to take a cue from shows like Rachael Ray and Martha Stewart) are apparently only supposed to talk about the latest summer BBQ recipes and slimming pants. It’s the men in suits on Crossfire who are supposed to yell at each other! Furthermore, maybe I think that rhetoric doesn’t have to be persuasive to be effective, and maybe I think that it’s good that people are finally shouting about something that really matters.
It’s also one of my pet peeves when people complain that Rosie (or other celebrities) are “political.” I say that in a country where half the population doesn’t vote, anyone famous being political is a pretty good thing. I liked that she said controversial things about the war on TV, because at least it got people talking about major issues and she was the rare host who could go from talking about the war to talking about American Idol intelligently.
(But Faith! All Rosie ever does is yell! And all anyone else does is yell back! How is this at all effective?)
First, let’s be honest, the reason people kept talking about her and Hasselbeck’s showdown was that it was between middle-aged women who (if we are to take a cue from shows like Rachael Ray and Martha Stewart) are apparently only supposed to talk about the latest summer BBQ recipes and slimming pants. It’s the men in suits on Crossfire who are supposed to yell at each other! Furthermore, maybe I think that rhetoric doesn’t have to be persuasive to be effective, and maybe I think that it’s good that people are finally shouting about something that really matters.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
A Story I Have Heard Before
There is a girl, typically a high school girl, often aged 16 or so, ALWAYS with hair described as “mousy brown.” Her looks are “ordinary.” She is awkward, which we know because she is frequently doing things like getting books out of her locker and spilling them all over the floor (oops!). She has few, if any, friends and on more than one occasion a popular blonde girl has made fun of her, typically to the amusement of her popular blonde friends.
But don’t worry about her! Because no sooner have we established her extreme dork factor by having her read Tolstoy on the school bus, than the “handsomest boy in school” performs some sort of heroic act. He picks up her books when she drops them, he catches her when she faints, performs the Heimlich maneuver after she’s downed an errant grilled cheese, swims out to save her from drowning in a polka-dot bathing suit. Like all good men throughout time, he “saves” her. As it turns out, he’s witty and charming, and although he easily talks to her, her hands are “clammy,” stomach definitively full of “butterflies,” and stammering is always involved. She is in disbelief that this handsome creature has deigned to acknowledge her existence. Though I know I’ve seen this conceit a million places, the specific examples I can think of here are season one of Gilmore Girls, a book I just read called Prep, and at some point in Ugly Betty.
This storyline is wrong to me for a number of reasons. Number One, as a certified ordinary Mousy Brown in high school, who read on the school bus and was regularly in need of saving, this kind of thing NEVER HAPPENED TO ME. Pretty blonde girls need saving all the time, and there just isn’t enough teenage boy heroism to go around. The second thing that’s wrong here is that teenage boys are some of the least witty and charming human beings on the planet (and they never have skin as good as Jared Padalecki’s). Finally: Why can’t mousy brown just be okay? Why does she need the basketball captain to fall in love with her? The only answer I can come up with is that society has determined that dorky women need the handsomest boy to be Okay. Somehow, a teenage boy falling in love with you validates your existence.
These were the ideas going through my head last night as I read Prep, by Curtis Sittenfeld, a hum-drum book about a girl named Lee who goes to an elite East Coast boarding school. I had heard great things about the book by people who know stuff about books. This book annoyitated me for several reasons. First, the main character is a poorly disguised stand-in for the author, whose mousy brown mug can be found on the back flap. The main character’s name is “Lee” and she’s a girl. And the author’s name is “Curtis” and she too is a girl. Get it? The book’s chapters are divided up by the semesters at school and each chapter could basically be called “funny stuff that happened this one time” because the stories in each rarely intersect in any kind of meaningful way, save for the fact that they seem to happen to the same bunch of characters (same characters doth not plot continuity make). And what happens (“plot”), like everything that happens in high school, is basically meaningless. What I’ve always found appealing about the teenage narrator is that everything seems really important – this is an easy way to give a story significance. In high school, everything always feels like the end of the world. But Sittenfeld is desperate to show you how she’s Come So Far since those silly high school days, that she occasionally, much to the vertigo of the reader, inserts Wise Reflections telling you just how little the moment actually means in the Grand Scheme of Things (Message!). Essentially, she sets up all the drama of a scene, assembles its characters, executes it well, but then deflates it. For example, there’s a quite compelling scene where Lee’s parents come visit her at school and she’s snotty to them. Her father slaps her and tells her that she’s become an east coast snob, and has forgotten her Indiana roots. Immediately following this scene, there are three pages of narration saying (1) that the family laughed about it in retrospect (2) that her father never hit her again (3) that she and her father eventually became very close. So you’re left wondering, why did you tell me this? Teenagers have no perspective, which is why they’re fun to write with – the author doesn’t have to worry about not placing enough gravity in the situation, because with teenagers, everything has gravity. Unless, after every single scene that might mean something, an Older Self dues ex machinas her way into the narrative to tell you it didn’t really mean anything after all. I can just imagine this in Catcher in the Rye (which this book is compared to in a cringe-worthy blurb on the back from Wally Lamb). “Gee, I was so alienated and cynical at the time. I felt that everything was phony. In retrospect, I realize the value of human existence.” (To be fair, Holden does narrate in retrospect, but it’s only a year later, and he’s in a psych ward for crying out loud, where Prep’s narrator seems to be lodged in happily married suburbia, post-college). The grown-up voice also just feels like a cop-out – the writer is too lazy to stay with the voice and let it carry the story.
Anyway, I recently read a fantastic teenage narrative in Marisha Pessl’s Special Topics in Calamity Physics which is full of pop culture and literature references, and if you haven’t read it already, please drop what you are doing and proceed directly to Amazon.com, where you too can experience this book for a mere $6.15. I read this book almost a week ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. In fact, that’s why I haven’t blogged about it yet, because it seemed to render me speechless. More later!
But don’t worry about her! Because no sooner have we established her extreme dork factor by having her read Tolstoy on the school bus, than the “handsomest boy in school” performs some sort of heroic act. He picks up her books when she drops them, he catches her when she faints, performs the Heimlich maneuver after she’s downed an errant grilled cheese, swims out to save her from drowning in a polka-dot bathing suit. Like all good men throughout time, he “saves” her. As it turns out, he’s witty and charming, and although he easily talks to her, her hands are “clammy,” stomach definitively full of “butterflies,” and stammering is always involved. She is in disbelief that this handsome creature has deigned to acknowledge her existence. Though I know I’ve seen this conceit a million places, the specific examples I can think of here are season one of Gilmore Girls, a book I just read called Prep, and at some point in Ugly Betty.
This storyline is wrong to me for a number of reasons. Number One, as a certified ordinary Mousy Brown in high school, who read on the school bus and was regularly in need of saving, this kind of thing NEVER HAPPENED TO ME. Pretty blonde girls need saving all the time, and there just isn’t enough teenage boy heroism to go around. The second thing that’s wrong here is that teenage boys are some of the least witty and charming human beings on the planet (and they never have skin as good as Jared Padalecki’s). Finally: Why can’t mousy brown just be okay? Why does she need the basketball captain to fall in love with her? The only answer I can come up with is that society has determined that dorky women need the handsomest boy to be Okay. Somehow, a teenage boy falling in love with you validates your existence.
These were the ideas going through my head last night as I read Prep, by Curtis Sittenfeld, a hum-drum book about a girl named Lee who goes to an elite East Coast boarding school. I had heard great things about the book by people who know stuff about books. This book annoyitated me for several reasons. First, the main character is a poorly disguised stand-in for the author, whose mousy brown mug can be found on the back flap. The main character’s name is “Lee” and she’s a girl. And the author’s name is “Curtis” and she too is a girl. Get it? The book’s chapters are divided up by the semesters at school and each chapter could basically be called “funny stuff that happened this one time” because the stories in each rarely intersect in any kind of meaningful way, save for the fact that they seem to happen to the same bunch of characters (same characters doth not plot continuity make). And what happens (“plot”), like everything that happens in high school, is basically meaningless. What I’ve always found appealing about the teenage narrator is that everything seems really important – this is an easy way to give a story significance. In high school, everything always feels like the end of the world. But Sittenfeld is desperate to show you how she’s Come So Far since those silly high school days, that she occasionally, much to the vertigo of the reader, inserts Wise Reflections telling you just how little the moment actually means in the Grand Scheme of Things (Message!). Essentially, she sets up all the drama of a scene, assembles its characters, executes it well, but then deflates it. For example, there’s a quite compelling scene where Lee’s parents come visit her at school and she’s snotty to them. Her father slaps her and tells her that she’s become an east coast snob, and has forgotten her Indiana roots. Immediately following this scene, there are three pages of narration saying (1) that the family laughed about it in retrospect (2) that her father never hit her again (3) that she and her father eventually became very close. So you’re left wondering, why did you tell me this? Teenagers have no perspective, which is why they’re fun to write with – the author doesn’t have to worry about not placing enough gravity in the situation, because with teenagers, everything has gravity. Unless, after every single scene that might mean something, an Older Self dues ex machinas her way into the narrative to tell you it didn’t really mean anything after all. I can just imagine this in Catcher in the Rye (which this book is compared to in a cringe-worthy blurb on the back from Wally Lamb). “Gee, I was so alienated and cynical at the time. I felt that everything was phony. In retrospect, I realize the value of human existence.” (To be fair, Holden does narrate in retrospect, but it’s only a year later, and he’s in a psych ward for crying out loud, where Prep’s narrator seems to be lodged in happily married suburbia, post-college). The grown-up voice also just feels like a cop-out – the writer is too lazy to stay with the voice and let it carry the story.
Anyway, I recently read a fantastic teenage narrative in Marisha Pessl’s Special Topics in Calamity Physics which is full of pop culture and literature references, and if you haven’t read it already, please drop what you are doing and proceed directly to Amazon.com, where you too can experience this book for a mere $6.15. I read this book almost a week ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. In fact, that’s why I haven’t blogged about it yet, because it seemed to render me speechless. More later!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Dissertation Idea
Okay, so it’s a little early to think about a dissertation (hello, Faith In Five Years!) but I’ve been inspired by a book I just read: Rebekah Nathan’s My Freshman Year. Nathan – a pseudonym – was a professor or anthropology at a large state university, and felt that she was disconnected from her students. They fell asleep in class, didn’t do the reading, and basically didn’t seem to care much about school. So she decided to investigate undergraduate culture from their point of view – she moved into a dorm and enrolled for a full freshman courseload.
I greatly admire Nathan’s ambition. In fact, this is something I can say for anthropological ethnographers that I can’t say for composition ethnographers – they put themselves out there. They take risks. I would love to do a project like this, except instead of aiming to discover all of undergraduate culture, I would be more interested in learning about how the freshman experience relates to student writing. How does the freshman composition course compare to the other courses the students are taking? How does the intellectual activity of writing fit in with their other activities? Where does comp fall in their list of priorities? Nathan took five classes with five professors and three teaching assistants, which meaning that in one semester there were eight people making rules and structuring her day. It’s little wonder that students feel overwhelmed trying to meet so many different expectations. Since writing is always “for an audience” I wonder how these different demands influence students’ writing as well.
Nathan discusses some interesting ethical issues she faced: with very few exceptions, she didn’t reveal her true identity. She even paid for the whole thing herself so she wouldn’t have to turn over her notes to anyone. I think I would have an advantage over also be able to pass for a freshman, whereas Nathan was in her fifties. I wonder, however, if I’m not distanced enough from the culture to see it objectively.
Some of Nathan’s insights:
Students are working more than they ever have (or have had to) in the past, and their jobs not only take up a large part of their time but also play a large role in their social lives. A student once told me that she kept missing my class because she had to work late and this made her either (1) tired or (2) sick. And she had to work forty hours a week to pay for school. Though I sympathized, I wondered why she was working so hard to pay for classes she didn’t go to.
Nathan believes that the lack of “community” on typical college campuses (e.g. poorly attended hall events) stems from the overabundance of competing options as to how students can spend their time. She explains “it is hard to create a community when the sheer number of options in college life generate a system in which no one is in the same place at the same time” (38. Students can choose where to live, their major, their extracurriculars, their classes, where to eat, what to do with their free time, where to study, etc. This has gotten to the point where just because you go to the same school as someone doesn’t mean you have anything in common. She writes, “Seen from the level of the institution, ‘community’ is a lofty ideal but with few common activities, rituals, or even symbols to bind together its diverse inhabitants” (40).
Besides work friends, students also seem to form networks based on “shared circumstances and shared demographics” rather than “personality” (57). I thought this happened just at UW because classes were so large, but she reports that in her research “classroom contacts figured relatively little into the social networks of students” (57). In fact, “the most significant relationships are formed either before college or either very early on in one’s college career, most often in some shared affiliation, whether voluntary or not, such as freshman dorm assignment, special freshman summer program, ROTC, ethnic club, or sorority and fraternity rush” (58).
She has some great ideas about why students are hesitant to speak in class. “Equality” is an unconscious norm of the classroom, meaning that students strive not to be “too noticeable . . . It is fine to do well in a class, performing better than others, but only if you do it unobtrusively” (91). She links this to campus activism that doesn’t engage in dialogue with anyone, despite its attempt to be “in your face.” I was thinking of Bascom Hill at UW-Madison, which was variously littered with signs, crosses, pink flamingoes, all in the vague name of “awareness-raising.” Nathan calls these “assertion without direct dialogue, an ‘in your face’ argument without a real face at the other end” (96).
Nathan also points to the depressing reality that “academic life is tangential or at odds with peer culture,” which as been a finding of many studies of campus culture. When she wandered the halls of the dorm, students were talking about sex or boys or drinking. Aside from meetings, like those for group projects, “none of the talk . . . concerned either the substantive content of a class or any other topic that might be labeled academic or intellectual” (99). This also offers an explanation for why students don’t seem to think it’s a big deal to miss class or not do their work. If academic isn’t the number one priority in their lives, it makes sense to them that going home for Easter or being sick or drinking with their friends is a good reason skip school. She said that one of her most sobering insights was that intellectual life just didn’t matter that much in college.
Ultimately, Nathan argues that college needs to be a site of “liminality” or a rite of passage for students. In order to do so, it must resist the world, which is becoming more market-driven (hence the multitude of options for students. She says, “we would not want a university to become so immersed in the world that it can neither critique that world nor proffer an ideal vision of how else it might be” (153).
I greatly admire Nathan’s ambition. In fact, this is something I can say for anthropological ethnographers that I can’t say for composition ethnographers – they put themselves out there. They take risks. I would love to do a project like this, except instead of aiming to discover all of undergraduate culture, I would be more interested in learning about how the freshman experience relates to student writing. How does the freshman composition course compare to the other courses the students are taking? How does the intellectual activity of writing fit in with their other activities? Where does comp fall in their list of priorities? Nathan took five classes with five professors and three teaching assistants, which meaning that in one semester there were eight people making rules and structuring her day. It’s little wonder that students feel overwhelmed trying to meet so many different expectations. Since writing is always “for an audience” I wonder how these different demands influence students’ writing as well.
Nathan discusses some interesting ethical issues she faced: with very few exceptions, she didn’t reveal her true identity. She even paid for the whole thing herself so she wouldn’t have to turn over her notes to anyone. I think I would have an advantage over also be able to pass for a freshman, whereas Nathan was in her fifties. I wonder, however, if I’m not distanced enough from the culture to see it objectively.
Some of Nathan’s insights:
Students are working more than they ever have (or have had to) in the past, and their jobs not only take up a large part of their time but also play a large role in their social lives. A student once told me that she kept missing my class because she had to work late and this made her either (1) tired or (2) sick. And she had to work forty hours a week to pay for school. Though I sympathized, I wondered why she was working so hard to pay for classes she didn’t go to.
Nathan believes that the lack of “community” on typical college campuses (e.g. poorly attended hall events) stems from the overabundance of competing options as to how students can spend their time. She explains “it is hard to create a community when the sheer number of options in college life generate a system in which no one is in the same place at the same time” (38. Students can choose where to live, their major, their extracurriculars, their classes, where to eat, what to do with their free time, where to study, etc. This has gotten to the point where just because you go to the same school as someone doesn’t mean you have anything in common. She writes, “Seen from the level of the institution, ‘community’ is a lofty ideal but with few common activities, rituals, or even symbols to bind together its diverse inhabitants” (40).
Besides work friends, students also seem to form networks based on “shared circumstances and shared demographics” rather than “personality” (57). I thought this happened just at UW because classes were so large, but she reports that in her research “classroom contacts figured relatively little into the social networks of students” (57). In fact, “the most significant relationships are formed either before college or either very early on in one’s college career, most often in some shared affiliation, whether voluntary or not, such as freshman dorm assignment, special freshman summer program, ROTC, ethnic club, or sorority and fraternity rush” (58).
She has some great ideas about why students are hesitant to speak in class. “Equality” is an unconscious norm of the classroom, meaning that students strive not to be “too noticeable . . . It is fine to do well in a class, performing better than others, but only if you do it unobtrusively” (91). She links this to campus activism that doesn’t engage in dialogue with anyone, despite its attempt to be “in your face.” I was thinking of Bascom Hill at UW-Madison, which was variously littered with signs, crosses, pink flamingoes, all in the vague name of “awareness-raising.” Nathan calls these “assertion without direct dialogue, an ‘in your face’ argument without a real face at the other end” (96).
Nathan also points to the depressing reality that “academic life is tangential or at odds with peer culture,” which as been a finding of many studies of campus culture. When she wandered the halls of the dorm, students were talking about sex or boys or drinking. Aside from meetings, like those for group projects, “none of the talk . . . concerned either the substantive content of a class or any other topic that might be labeled academic or intellectual” (99). This also offers an explanation for why students don’t seem to think it’s a big deal to miss class or not do their work. If academic isn’t the number one priority in their lives, it makes sense to them that going home for Easter or being sick or drinking with their friends is a good reason skip school. She said that one of her most sobering insights was that intellectual life just didn’t matter that much in college.
Ultimately, Nathan argues that college needs to be a site of “liminality” or a rite of passage for students. In order to do so, it must resist the world, which is becoming more market-driven (hence the multitude of options for students. She says, “we would not want a university to become so immersed in the world that it can neither critique that world nor proffer an ideal vision of how else it might be” (153).
Monday, May 21, 2007
People that have been irritating me lately
1. People that complain about the price of stamps. The United States Postal Service is the best friggin deal around. What if I showed up on your doorstep and told you that for 41 cents – forty-one cents! – I will PERSONALLY DELIVER your belated Christmas card to your Aunt Josephine in Tulsa. Yes, it may take two days, and yes I may bend the corners slightly, but it will get there. You would do a happy dance and tell your neighbors – then you would tell me I’m crazy. What else can you buy for 41 cents!? Even the quarter machines outside WalMart now charge at least two quarters for the metal snake ring that turns your finger green.
2. People who are on my favorite stairclimber at the gym and aren’t even using it properly. You’re not supposed to hunch over! This places too much stress on your shoulders! At least if you’re going to make my day more difficult, do it with proper spinal alignment!
3. People who think they are saving the environment by buying a Prius. You know what saves the environment and is free? WALKING. Don’t tell me you’re saving the environment if you’re just trying to be trendy.
4. People who Prefer “Film” over Television. If someone told you they were a “film” buff, able to clean out entire Jeopardy categories like “The Talkies” and “Cinema,” what would you think about them? Now, what if someone told you that they watch 30 hours of TV a week? I’ve had a problem recently with people judging me because I like TV. No, maybe I LOVE TV. I’d like to clarify: I don’t like According to Jim, or Will and Grace, or The Hills. I like smart shows, like Buffy, Studio 60, The Office, Veronica Mars, 24, Freaks and Geeks, and most recently HBO’s Carnivale. And yet I am judged. I firmly believe television is becoming a superior art form to movies. First, the extended time period of television allows you to become closer to the characters, to become more involved in the storylines, and to create allegiances to the idea of the show. (It is this kind of loyalty that makes people (me included) line up to see garbage like Spider-man 3.) Television is like one sequel after another! Buffy can explore a hundred themes because it has seven years to do so – a movie barely has two hours. And now in an age of Tivo and DVD and streaming video, television has lost all of its past inconveniences. (And I’d still rather save up to buy a series on DVD than pay outrageous movie ticket prices – AND I can’t watch the movie again or sell it on Amazon if I get bored with it. Television also doesn’t need the kind of commercial success of film (although it doesn’t hurt). Even shows with little to no commercial success typically get to stick around for a good 20 episodes or so, whereas movies rarely see a green light without endless rounds of audience testing.
5. People who don’t realize the dangers associated with being a small female. I was recently denied full funding for a travel grant because I didn’t share a hotel room. Apparently, I was supposed to find a stranger and lock myself in a strange hotel room with them for two days to cut costs. Don’t even get me started on poorly lit sidewalks or entire campuses with few emergency phones.
6. People who don’t stop for me in crosswalks. Please, let me get out of YOUR way.
2. People who are on my favorite stairclimber at the gym and aren’t even using it properly. You’re not supposed to hunch over! This places too much stress on your shoulders! At least if you’re going to make my day more difficult, do it with proper spinal alignment!
3. People who think they are saving the environment by buying a Prius. You know what saves the environment and is free? WALKING. Don’t tell me you’re saving the environment if you’re just trying to be trendy.
4. People who Prefer “Film” over Television. If someone told you they were a “film” buff, able to clean out entire Jeopardy categories like “The Talkies” and “Cinema,” what would you think about them? Now, what if someone told you that they watch 30 hours of TV a week? I’ve had a problem recently with people judging me because I like TV. No, maybe I LOVE TV. I’d like to clarify: I don’t like According to Jim, or Will and Grace, or The Hills. I like smart shows, like Buffy, Studio 60, The Office, Veronica Mars, 24, Freaks and Geeks, and most recently HBO’s Carnivale. And yet I am judged. I firmly believe television is becoming a superior art form to movies. First, the extended time period of television allows you to become closer to the characters, to become more involved in the storylines, and to create allegiances to the idea of the show. (It is this kind of loyalty that makes people (me included) line up to see garbage like Spider-man 3.) Television is like one sequel after another! Buffy can explore a hundred themes because it has seven years to do so – a movie barely has two hours. And now in an age of Tivo and DVD and streaming video, television has lost all of its past inconveniences. (And I’d still rather save up to buy a series on DVD than pay outrageous movie ticket prices – AND I can’t watch the movie again or sell it on Amazon if I get bored with it. Television also doesn’t need the kind of commercial success of film (although it doesn’t hurt). Even shows with little to no commercial success typically get to stick around for a good 20 episodes or so, whereas movies rarely see a green light without endless rounds of audience testing.
5. People who don’t realize the dangers associated with being a small female. I was recently denied full funding for a travel grant because I didn’t share a hotel room. Apparently, I was supposed to find a stranger and lock myself in a strange hotel room with them for two days to cut costs. Don’t even get me started on poorly lit sidewalks or entire campuses with few emergency phones.
6. People who don’t stop for me in crosswalks. Please, let me get out of YOUR way.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
GTD and Me
I recently read David Allen’s Getting Things Done (GTD). Allen has received a lot of buzz for his system of productivity, and many blogs (two of my favorites are Lifehack.org and zenhabits.com) are devoted to ways that people can implement the system in their lives for maximum productivity. For example, Allen recommends taking all the open projects in your life and breaking them down into “next actions” or “the next physical, visible activity that needs to be engaged in, in order to move the current reality toward completion” (34). So for example if you need to get your oil changed, your next action might be to call the garage to see when it’s open and how much it costs. Allen also recommends categorizing these actions by their locations, so you’d have a next action list for “@Home” “@Work” “@Errands” etc.
I found Allen’s book incredibly useful and I would recommend it and the above blogs to anyone, but I’m concerned that his ideas are more applicable to Corporate America types as opposed to graduate students. He talks a lot about faxes, meetings, agendas, organizing one’s “office” – these are not the essence of what a grad student deals with everyday. What I’ve found difficult with implementing this system is the physicality of it all – Allen stresses that you need to think of things in terms of the next physical action, but I feel like a lot of what I do in grad school is internal and mental (perhaps this causes procrastination?) For example, say I’m writing a paper. I could put on my next actions list: Write one page of paper. But that’s not really how I write. My style is very recursive, so although I may have written a page, it’s likely that very little of that will contribute to what Allen calls completion. In fact, I could babble for a page. Sometimes I think my next action is “Stare into blinking cursor” or “Think of title” neither of which are especially physical actions.
I do think that I could teach some GTD principles in a freshman composition course. Allen writes that we procrastinate because we start to imagine all the things that could possibly go wrong (this is why sensitive and imaginative people are especially prone to procrastination). He says that we just need to start plodding along and making things happen instead of worrying about the end point. Many students in a freshman composition course have not had good experiences with writing in the past, so when I assign the first paper, they are instantly filled with anxiety (“It’ll never be good enough” “Mrs. Horrible Sophomore English Teacher hated everything I wrote”) and thus procrastinate. But what if we could break down the paper into a series of next actions? Would this relieve the anxiety? For example, it might go something like this
1. Get together notes from class, assignment sheet
2. Brainstorm three topics
3. Choose a topic based on guidelines in class
4. Find three quotes I want to use
5. Write thesis statement
6. Make outline based on thesis statement
WOW! I already have less anxiety! Now this is not to say that the students wouldn’t encounter the same problem that I mentioned above, but I think that a set of physical actions would at least get them started. Plus, looking back at that list now, I realize that “staring off into space” and “thinking” are mental actions that are kind of embedded in the physical actions of creating a thesis statement or outline.
I found Allen’s book incredibly useful and I would recommend it and the above blogs to anyone, but I’m concerned that his ideas are more applicable to Corporate America types as opposed to graduate students. He talks a lot about faxes, meetings, agendas, organizing one’s “office” – these are not the essence of what a grad student deals with everyday. What I’ve found difficult with implementing this system is the physicality of it all – Allen stresses that you need to think of things in terms of the next physical action, but I feel like a lot of what I do in grad school is internal and mental (perhaps this causes procrastination?) For example, say I’m writing a paper. I could put on my next actions list: Write one page of paper. But that’s not really how I write. My style is very recursive, so although I may have written a page, it’s likely that very little of that will contribute to what Allen calls completion. In fact, I could babble for a page. Sometimes I think my next action is “Stare into blinking cursor” or “Think of title” neither of which are especially physical actions.
I do think that I could teach some GTD principles in a freshman composition course. Allen writes that we procrastinate because we start to imagine all the things that could possibly go wrong (this is why sensitive and imaginative people are especially prone to procrastination). He says that we just need to start plodding along and making things happen instead of worrying about the end point. Many students in a freshman composition course have not had good experiences with writing in the past, so when I assign the first paper, they are instantly filled with anxiety (“It’ll never be good enough” “Mrs. Horrible Sophomore English Teacher hated everything I wrote”) and thus procrastinate. But what if we could break down the paper into a series of next actions? Would this relieve the anxiety? For example, it might go something like this
1. Get together notes from class, assignment sheet
2. Brainstorm three topics
3. Choose a topic based on guidelines in class
4. Find three quotes I want to use
5. Write thesis statement
6. Make outline based on thesis statement
WOW! I already have less anxiety! Now this is not to say that the students wouldn’t encounter the same problem that I mentioned above, but I think that a set of physical actions would at least get them started. Plus, looking back at that list now, I realize that “staring off into space” and “thinking” are mental actions that are kind of embedded in the physical actions of creating a thesis statement or outline.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
An Open Letter
Our relationship is based on a cycle of abuse. You get my hopes up, and send them crashing to the ground. Week after week, I come crawling back to you, and you consistently fail me. It’s been so long since you thought about my needs. After our encounters, I walk around in a storm for a week, telling everyone I hate you, saying I’ll never let you back in my life, that we’re through For Real This Time, and yet every week, I find myself in your grip. You tell me that I’m wrong, prove to me that you couldn’t care less about what I think. You’ve done this for FIVE years now – you get me excited about our relationship and then you break my heart. You are such a waste of time.
I’m speaking, of course, about this season of American Idol. I have liked American Idol before America even did. I remember watching previews for it in the summer of 2002, between my sophomore and junior years of college, and distinctly thinking that it would be important for me to watch this show. But this season and last season to some extent have become more caricature than anything else. The excitement of American Idol comes from that feeling of discovering raw talent – where one moment a contestant seemed to be just another awkward teenager in an uncomfortable top, the performance makes them come alive somehow and you get to share in that moment of greatness. So:
Faith’s Favorite Overlooked American Idol Performances
I’ve selected these performances because they have in some respect stayed with me. I YouTube them in the wee hours, typically after a particularly dismal AI week (which has been much of this season). My other criteria is that when I hear the original on the radio, I think of this performance. For your assistance, I've included YouTube links to all the performances.
George Huff “Take Me To the Pilot” George Huff was probably best known for a calf bounce, painfully evident in the clip because he bounces in and out of the screen. Still, he had a great smile and an infectious enthusiasm that marked him as one of the few performers in recent memory that seemed to actually be having fun (I'm looking at you Underwood!).
LaToya London, “Somewhere” Perhaps a bit oversung, but I love this song and this episode has my favorite celebrity judge of all time: Quentin Tarantino. You wouldn't think Tarantino would be all up in the American Idol, but if you think about his role in pop culture, it kind of makes sense. He too is a student of pop culure.
Chris Daughtry, “Walk the Line” I loved Chris, which is why he finished fourth. Chris came in a line of “Rockers” on AI, including Bo Bice and Constantine Maroulis. But Bo was just all right for me. He sorta seemed to sing the same song every week. Something country-rock ish. But Chris has a great sense of self, meaning you could give him some ridiculous theme (American Songbook? Jigga what?) and he could come up with something like this.
Clay Aiken, “This is the Night” I have long since given up trying to defend my affection for Clay. Yes, it’s cheese. And yes, I love it. Would someone please cast this boy as Joseph in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat already?
Tamyra Gray, “A House is Not A Home” Everyone and their mom has performed this song on AI at some point, but Tamyra’s understated version is absolutely the best.
Carrie Underwood, “Alone” Not a fan of the Underwood. Don’t love country music, and she always had a deer-in-headlights look that I found off-putting. It was this performance, however, that showed her range, and made me wish she hadn’t gotten pigeonholed as Country so soon. Also check out the cool shoulder twitch. Carrie Underwood also had a knack for making it look easy. A lot of contestants are up there working it and it shows -- you end up feeling kind of sorry for them and you want to let them take a nap. She pulls off those top notes without sounding shrill (I'm looking at you Jordin!)
Kelly Clarkson, “A Moment Like This” Okay, okay, so the performance I like is technically after she already won it. Kelly is one of the most consistent Idol performers ever. Before Idol became the extended Ford/Coke commercial it is today, before 17 bamillion people started voting every week, before the flashy lights and backup bands and celebrity judges, there was just Kelly, excited that she’d won a record contract. Watch it and try not to get choked up. (Also note the presence of Season 1 Seacrest co-host Brian “The Dunk” Dunkleman – whatever happened to that dude?)
Now, here's where the "making connections" part comes in. Compare ANY of those performances to Blake’s supposed “breakout” “You Give Love a Bad Name," which Michael Slezak of Entertainment Weekly (who should know better!) has called "audacious and unexpected." This person is in the FINAL TWO? Do you see why I'm upset?
I’m speaking, of course, about this season of American Idol. I have liked American Idol before America even did. I remember watching previews for it in the summer of 2002, between my sophomore and junior years of college, and distinctly thinking that it would be important for me to watch this show. But this season and last season to some extent have become more caricature than anything else. The excitement of American Idol comes from that feeling of discovering raw talent – where one moment a contestant seemed to be just another awkward teenager in an uncomfortable top, the performance makes them come alive somehow and you get to share in that moment of greatness. So:
Faith’s Favorite Overlooked American Idol Performances
I’ve selected these performances because they have in some respect stayed with me. I YouTube them in the wee hours, typically after a particularly dismal AI week (which has been much of this season). My other criteria is that when I hear the original on the radio, I think of this performance. For your assistance, I've included YouTube links to all the performances.
George Huff “Take Me To the Pilot” George Huff was probably best known for a calf bounce, painfully evident in the clip because he bounces in and out of the screen. Still, he had a great smile and an infectious enthusiasm that marked him as one of the few performers in recent memory that seemed to actually be having fun (I'm looking at you Underwood!).
LaToya London, “Somewhere” Perhaps a bit oversung, but I love this song and this episode has my favorite celebrity judge of all time: Quentin Tarantino. You wouldn't think Tarantino would be all up in the American Idol, but if you think about his role in pop culture, it kind of makes sense. He too is a student of pop culure.
Chris Daughtry, “Walk the Line” I loved Chris, which is why he finished fourth. Chris came in a line of “Rockers” on AI, including Bo Bice and Constantine Maroulis. But Bo was just all right for me. He sorta seemed to sing the same song every week. Something country-rock ish. But Chris has a great sense of self, meaning you could give him some ridiculous theme (American Songbook? Jigga what?) and he could come up with something like this.
Clay Aiken, “This is the Night” I have long since given up trying to defend my affection for Clay. Yes, it’s cheese. And yes, I love it. Would someone please cast this boy as Joseph in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat already?
Tamyra Gray, “A House is Not A Home” Everyone and their mom has performed this song on AI at some point, but Tamyra’s understated version is absolutely the best.
Carrie Underwood, “Alone” Not a fan of the Underwood. Don’t love country music, and she always had a deer-in-headlights look that I found off-putting. It was this performance, however, that showed her range, and made me wish she hadn’t gotten pigeonholed as Country so soon. Also check out the cool shoulder twitch. Carrie Underwood also had a knack for making it look easy. A lot of contestants are up there working it and it shows -- you end up feeling kind of sorry for them and you want to let them take a nap. She pulls off those top notes without sounding shrill (I'm looking at you Jordin!)
Kelly Clarkson, “A Moment Like This” Okay, okay, so the performance I like is technically after she already won it. Kelly is one of the most consistent Idol performers ever. Before Idol became the extended Ford/Coke commercial it is today, before 17 bamillion people started voting every week, before the flashy lights and backup bands and celebrity judges, there was just Kelly, excited that she’d won a record contract. Watch it and try not to get choked up. (Also note the presence of Season 1 Seacrest co-host Brian “The Dunk” Dunkleman – whatever happened to that dude?)
Now, here's where the "making connections" part comes in. Compare ANY of those performances to Blake’s supposed “breakout” “You Give Love a Bad Name," which Michael Slezak of Entertainment Weekly (who should know better!) has called "audacious and unexpected." This person is in the FINAL TWO? Do you see why I'm upset?
Welcome.
I’ve decided that I need a hobby.
I discovered this while trying to write a bio of myself yesterday. I got through all the stuff about education and research interests -- I have lots of those. Then I looked at the little sample bio, and the person had written all their hobbies – it was something cliché like sailing, but it was a hobby no less. And so I tried to think of things that I really enjoy doing. I enjoy working out, but not really all kinds of working out. Mostly I like pilates, but I was afraid that people wouldn’t know what that was and I would look pretentious. I was going to put “running” but I don’t really like the treadmill as much as I like the stairclimber, and even then, only while watching TV on DVD. Reading and writing were boring hobbies. I like to play Nintendo Wii and read pop culture blogs (my favorites are EW’s PopWatch and The Superficial) but those made me seem shallow.
So blogging is my new hobby.
I also thought I needed a Blog With a Gimmick (my favorite example is this one), so I decided that I would write a blog where I made connections. Making connections is definitely one of my favorite things. Then I read this Onion article, and realized I had my title for this blog. Some goals:
(1) Post at least once every other day.
(2) Post about pop culture as well as my aforementioned research interests, which are, according to my bio: ethnography, personal writing, the freshman experience, popular culture, and writing across the curriculum.
(3) Make a lot of connections.
Welcome.
I discovered this while trying to write a bio of myself yesterday. I got through all the stuff about education and research interests -- I have lots of those. Then I looked at the little sample bio, and the person had written all their hobbies – it was something cliché like sailing, but it was a hobby no less. And so I tried to think of things that I really enjoy doing. I enjoy working out, but not really all kinds of working out. Mostly I like pilates, but I was afraid that people wouldn’t know what that was and I would look pretentious. I was going to put “running” but I don’t really like the treadmill as much as I like the stairclimber, and even then, only while watching TV on DVD. Reading and writing were boring hobbies. I like to play Nintendo Wii and read pop culture blogs (my favorites are EW’s PopWatch and The Superficial) but those made me seem shallow.
So blogging is my new hobby.
I also thought I needed a Blog With a Gimmick (my favorite example is this one), so I decided that I would write a blog where I made connections. Making connections is definitely one of my favorite things. Then I read this Onion article, and realized I had my title for this blog. Some goals:
(1) Post at least once every other day.
(2) Post about pop culture as well as my aforementioned research interests, which are, according to my bio: ethnography, personal writing, the freshman experience, popular culture, and writing across the curriculum.
(3) Make a lot of connections.
Welcome.
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