Now that I've been accepted into a Masters program, I can't help but think about the next step - the PhD. Considering that it's a 6-7 year process, I'm understandably daunted. I was curious, so I looked into PhD programs online. It's amazing what people will put out there:
http://www.degreeprogramsonline.info/
Typos. A dead giveaway.
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Snow Day
Today was a snow day. I finished the John Cusack article for http://www.toptenz.net/, answered work emails, and then worked on my paper for Immigrant literature, which I have changed sixteen times since the two times I blogged about it. Sheesh. Tomorrow, from the time I wake up (EARLY) until it's time to log into work (11 AM) I am going to finish it. Then I will work on a spreadsheet project I have pending. Fun. Then I will study for Poli Sci. Sometime before 5 I will finish a special project I'm working on for a friend, then I will try to clean part of the house.
Ambitious, aren't I?
Jake, as it turns out, likes the snow. It snowed 7 or 8 inches here. This is what it looked like from my front porch:
Ambitious, aren't I?
Jake, as it turns out, likes the snow. It snowed 7 or 8 inches here. This is what it looked like from my front porch:
And here are the poor vehicles, all covered in snow:
My herculean hubby hauled all the heavy snow out of the driveway. That was really nice of him, seeing as how I can't even set one toe on snow without causing myself serious bodily harm. Grace. Grace is not my name.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I totally changed my mind
So the Christ In Concrete and The Fortunate Pilgrim paper? I'm changing my assigment choice to this:
"Most of the texts we have read propose starkly different models of assimilation - or immigrant success - for men and women. Wht models of gender inform these theories? What learned behaviors or innate traits make women or men particularly suited to survive and thrive in an American context?"
This is better because I really want to talk about Lucia Santa from The Fortunate Pilgrim and how she didn't assimilate so much as learn how to stay Italian within America. It actually has a lot to do with her being a woman (a strong woman) in a matricarchal role with no patricarch to act as a foil. So gender has a lot to do with her success. But gender has a lot to do with Paul's little bit of success in Christ In Concrete, and a lot more to do with his dissapointment in what America has to offer. Neither book shows a clear picture of an Old World identity - at least not a character's identity. Neither book takes place in Italy at all - there are just parts that talk about the Old World (more in FP than CIC). So the first essay question I planned to respond to wasn't entirely appropriate for what I want to talk about. I'll post it when I'm finished and it's been turned in. Don't want to get accused of plagarizing my own writing...
"Most of the texts we have read propose starkly different models of assimilation - or immigrant success - for men and women. Wht models of gender inform these theories? What learned behaviors or innate traits make women or men particularly suited to survive and thrive in an American context?"
This is better because I really want to talk about Lucia Santa from The Fortunate Pilgrim and how she didn't assimilate so much as learn how to stay Italian within America. It actually has a lot to do with her being a woman (a strong woman) in a matricarchal role with no patricarch to act as a foil. So gender has a lot to do with her success. But gender has a lot to do with Paul's little bit of success in Christ In Concrete, and a lot more to do with his dissapointment in what America has to offer. Neither book shows a clear picture of an Old World identity - at least not a character's identity. Neither book takes place in Italy at all - there are just parts that talk about the Old World (more in FP than CIC). So the first essay question I planned to respond to wasn't entirely appropriate for what I want to talk about. I'll post it when I'm finished and it's been turned in. Don't want to get accused of plagarizing my own writing...
Literary Criticism Response Paper
This is what I turned in for a response to a piece of literary criticism. I am aware that it kind of sucks, but I'm hoping to get some feedback and revise it, since I'm keen on the topic, and I really disagree with the essay I responded to:
Alice Hall Petry’s essay, “Coming of Age in Hortons Bay: Hemingway’s ‘Up in Michigan’” calls Hemingway’s story the “touching portrait of a female character”. Petry goes on to attempt to prove that the female character, Liz Coates is in the midst of a “sexual awakening” when the graphic encounter at the dock occurs, but that Liz is far too young and innocent to know what to expect regarding the actual mechanics of physical love. Petry says that Liz’s passion for him has an “obsessive nature”, but even though Liz desperately wants Jim’s attention, the affection she receives is “literally not what she had in mind”. Furthermore, Petry comments at length on Hemingway’s “obvious” sexual undertones and innuendos, and insists that his “use of sexual diction and puns is so blatant that it seems clear that the very title of the story is an obscenity.”
The gist of Petry’s essay is this: Liz Coates is an innocent character plagued by sexual feelings she does not understand. She is infatuated (nay obsessed) with Jim Gilmore, a boorish, “flat” character, who pays no attention to Liz until she becomes convenient to satisfy a primitive urge. Petry comments that as the story progresses that the language and use of puns become increasingly sexually suggestive – almost indicating that the innocent Liz is surrounded by and consumed by the sexually aggressive world of men and falls victim to urges she cannot possibly understand.
The beauty of literary criticism is that much art is subjective, and no author more than Ernest Hemingway wanted his reader to draw his/her own conclusions about his work. Therefore the purpose here is not to prove Ms. Petry wrong, only to offer an alternate interpretation of the text.
Certain points Ms. Petry makes are congruent with an alternate view. For instance, Jim Gilmore is not a particularly rounded character, but one could argue that neither is Liz. While we have more insight into what Liz is thinking, Liz herself is a primitive character. Her affection for Jim is largely based on simple observations she’s made, as we see in the most often-discussed paragraph:
“Liz liked Jim very much. She liked it the way he walked from the shop and often went to the kitchen door to watch for him to start down the road. She liked it about his mustache. She liked it about how white his teeth were when he smiled. She liked it very much that he didn’t look like a blacksmith. She liked it how much D.J. Smith and Mrs. Smith liked Jim. One day she found that she liked it the way the hair was black on his arms and how white they were above the tanned line when he washed up in the washbasin outside. Liking that made her feel funny.” (81)
Petry makes many statements about this paragraph. One is that Liz’s list of things she likes about Jim “conveys the flimsy basis of Liz’s infatuation.” She goes on to say that because of the list of things Liz likes, it indicates that Liz might not have her mind on the future, that her infatuation with Jim might be fleeting. Additionally, Petry sites Sheldon Norman Grebstein to explain that the repetition contained in the paragraph “conveys the obsessive behavior of her passion”, and that Liz’s affection for Jim is spurred and encouraged by the validation she feels at the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Smith like Jim.
An alternative reading of the same paragraph could yield different conclusions. For instance, the repetition of “she liked” was addressed in The Apprenticeship of Ernest Hemingway (a text mentioned in Petry’s footnotes). In it, Gertrude Stein called the device “wholly a sue of repetition for emphasis and clarification”, which could indicate that Hemingway used that particular device to emphasize to the reader that Liz “liked Jim very much”, and that the basis for her liking were the things she had observed thus far. Her discovery of the fact that she liked to see Jim’s bare arms and the realization that it made her “feel funny” could merely be Liz’s realization that the more she learned about Jim the more she liked him. That alone could make her “feel funny”.
Additionally, Liz’s regarding of the Smiths as parental figures, as well as the assumption that Liz is very young and completely innocent is not necessarily supported by text. It is easy to assume that Liz is young because of her simple sentiments and because of her use of “something” and “it” in her point of view of the sex act itself. Conversely, there is no textual evidence to debunk the theory that Liz might not be quite so young, and quite so ignorant to the mechanics of the sexual act. It is possible that Hemingway’s intention of placing the story in a rural part of Michigan was to show the simplicity and primitive nature of life there. Just because Liz did not assign words to “it”, it does not necessarily mean that she does not have an at least general idea of what “it” entails.
During the dock scene, we know that Liz is frightened and unaware of exactly what is in store. It is not explicitly stated that Liz is completely unaware of what COULD be in store. She thinks that she “didn’t know who he was going to go about things but snuggled close to him”. This would indicate that she knew that there was something Jim had to “go about”, and more importantly, that she is willing to do whatever Jim wants her to do.
While Petry suggests that the thing that “clicks” inside Liz is still completely unknown to her, the fact remains that Liz is being fondled by Jim, that she feels Jim “right through the back of her chair”, and that she feels “warmer and softer”. One could argue that if Liz was so completely innocent to such carnal things that the fact that she had been groped and that she could feel anatomical evidence of Jim’s intentions, that she would have cried for help or excused herself from the room. She might have slapped Jim, or she might have run away. She might have said no to his request to take a walk. Liz may be innocent, but we could assume that Hemingway does not want us to think she is stupid. Petry suggests that Liz “takes Jim at his word” when she agrees to go for a walk, suggesting that Liz is completely unaware of what is to happen on the dock. Petry says that “Liz was, in effect, destined to copulate with him, in view of both her ignorance, vulnaribility, confusion, and awakening sexuality, as well as Jim’s comparative experience”
Liz’s ignorance, at this point in the story, must be eclipsed by the intensity of primitive human sexual urges she was privy to in the kitchen. After being groped and kissed roughly by Jim, Liz has had a taste of Jim’s intentions, and even the most innocent and ignorant human woman would have to know that Jim’s intentions would take the situation to a more intense place, rather than less of one. Furthermore, if Liz is truly going through a “sexual awakening”, physiologically she would have urges that would drive her to the act with Jim. Our interpretation does not hold with Liz’s preported “sexual awakening” that Petry suggests is separate from Liz’s infatuation with Jim. In fact, our interpretation suggests that any awakening on Liz’s part is directly related to her feelings for Jim, which (right or wrong) increase with this new attention, regardless of the intentions behind them. Put simply, Liz likes Jim very much, and wants Jim to like her. We are meant to understand that, and to understand that while Liz’s understand might not be complete, it is enough for her to have the gist.
There is also little textual evidence to suggest that Jim has so much experience. As Petry pointed out earlier, we do not have a great deal of information on Jim. The earlier statement of Jim being a primitive character enters in here. Jim likes to hunt, to work, to drink, to have a nice place to sleep, to enjoy the mainly visceral pleasure of life. All we know for sure about Liz is that she likes Jim. One could imagine that Hemingway took some pleasure in creating this little scene for us, almost a primitive mating scenario, in that Jim and his concerns for the basic comforts run across a patiently waiting and opportunely-placed Liz, and the natural order of things followed. Granted it was painful, frightening, and unpleasant for Liz, but at the risk of sounding insensitive, most female first sexual experiences are. We could imagine that the irony and sadness Hemingway tried to convey relate to, yes, the difference between a man and a woman’s idea of love, romance, and mating, but also to the human condition and how it relates to expectation, love, and life in general. Maybe what Hemingway was trying to say is that in a lot of ways, we are no better than animals. Jim for his need to satiate his desires, Liz in her need to protect and nurture without the comfort of romantic platitudes and pledges.
In her criticism, Petry tries very hard to stress the sexual undertones of the story. In fact, she contradicts herself often by not clarifying how Liz could be completely “non-carnal” while going through a “sexual awakening”. A person cannot be both, even if the person going through the sexual awakening is unaware of what is happening to them. A sexual awakening, by nature, is accompanied by sexual feelings and urges. Petry seems to think that a human animal is able to separate urge from awareness, while we could argue that even if Liz didn’t know the names for things, she felt how she felt, and those feelings were rather explicit.
While Petry suggests that the title “Up in Michigan’ is actually a sexual innuendo, one could argue that the simple title indicates not only a location, but also the state of mind one finds in a rural community. Support for this interpretation is found, ironically enough, in Petry’s footnotes, where she clarifies that Philip Young (Hemingway expert) “argues that the title is a ‘sardonic allusion’ to ‘a popular song of the period which praised the bucolic virtues of life in that region’”.
Petry also attaches sexual meaning to the description of the dead deer when the men come back from the trip, and even ties together the fact that Jim killed a deer with the use of the word “death” as a substitute for the word “orgasm”. If Hemingway was writing a story about the tragedy of human relationships, as proposed in our alternate interpretation, one could doubt the validity of Petry’s argument. Hemingway’s picture of this rural Horton’s Bay and it’s day-to-day life is a vivid enough picture of the mindset “up” there. One could say that the story is more primitively-charged than sexually-charged. In a day-to-day world there is death, work, food, and whatever you can draw out of life.
Petry decided not to tackle a certain statement. Even though Liz tells Jim “no”, she thinks that she “wanted it”, and that “she had to have it”. Just like when Liz thinks “he’s come to me finally”, we get the idea that Liz might have urges, but more than anything she likes Jim very much, and wants Jim to want her, therefore she is willing to do whatever she has to keep him close. “Everything felt gone”, but we propose that everything would have felt gone, no matter what, because that is human nature.
It still is not a pretty picture, which is probably why Hemingway considered this to be a sad story. Ironically, Petry uses the same sentiment at the end of her essay, right after she says that Liz’s experience on the dock takes away her attractive neatness. Liz can restore her neatness, she can restore her composure, but she will never be the same, because she has had a glimpse into the heart of the world, and saw that it was cold there, and that we are ultimately alone.
Alice Hall Petry’s essay, “Coming of Age in Hortons Bay: Hemingway’s ‘Up in Michigan’” calls Hemingway’s story the “touching portrait of a female character”. Petry goes on to attempt to prove that the female character, Liz Coates is in the midst of a “sexual awakening” when the graphic encounter at the dock occurs, but that Liz is far too young and innocent to know what to expect regarding the actual mechanics of physical love. Petry says that Liz’s passion for him has an “obsessive nature”, but even though Liz desperately wants Jim’s attention, the affection she receives is “literally not what she had in mind”. Furthermore, Petry comments at length on Hemingway’s “obvious” sexual undertones and innuendos, and insists that his “use of sexual diction and puns is so blatant that it seems clear that the very title of the story is an obscenity.”
The gist of Petry’s essay is this: Liz Coates is an innocent character plagued by sexual feelings she does not understand. She is infatuated (nay obsessed) with Jim Gilmore, a boorish, “flat” character, who pays no attention to Liz until she becomes convenient to satisfy a primitive urge. Petry comments that as the story progresses that the language and use of puns become increasingly sexually suggestive – almost indicating that the innocent Liz is surrounded by and consumed by the sexually aggressive world of men and falls victim to urges she cannot possibly understand.
The beauty of literary criticism is that much art is subjective, and no author more than Ernest Hemingway wanted his reader to draw his/her own conclusions about his work. Therefore the purpose here is not to prove Ms. Petry wrong, only to offer an alternate interpretation of the text.
Certain points Ms. Petry makes are congruent with an alternate view. For instance, Jim Gilmore is not a particularly rounded character, but one could argue that neither is Liz. While we have more insight into what Liz is thinking, Liz herself is a primitive character. Her affection for Jim is largely based on simple observations she’s made, as we see in the most often-discussed paragraph:
“Liz liked Jim very much. She liked it the way he walked from the shop and often went to the kitchen door to watch for him to start down the road. She liked it about his mustache. She liked it about how white his teeth were when he smiled. She liked it very much that he didn’t look like a blacksmith. She liked it how much D.J. Smith and Mrs. Smith liked Jim. One day she found that she liked it the way the hair was black on his arms and how white they were above the tanned line when he washed up in the washbasin outside. Liking that made her feel funny.” (81)
Petry makes many statements about this paragraph. One is that Liz’s list of things she likes about Jim “conveys the flimsy basis of Liz’s infatuation.” She goes on to say that because of the list of things Liz likes, it indicates that Liz might not have her mind on the future, that her infatuation with Jim might be fleeting. Additionally, Petry sites Sheldon Norman Grebstein to explain that the repetition contained in the paragraph “conveys the obsessive behavior of her passion”, and that Liz’s affection for Jim is spurred and encouraged by the validation she feels at the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Smith like Jim.
An alternative reading of the same paragraph could yield different conclusions. For instance, the repetition of “she liked” was addressed in The Apprenticeship of Ernest Hemingway (a text mentioned in Petry’s footnotes). In it, Gertrude Stein called the device “wholly a sue of repetition for emphasis and clarification”, which could indicate that Hemingway used that particular device to emphasize to the reader that Liz “liked Jim very much”, and that the basis for her liking were the things she had observed thus far. Her discovery of the fact that she liked to see Jim’s bare arms and the realization that it made her “feel funny” could merely be Liz’s realization that the more she learned about Jim the more she liked him. That alone could make her “feel funny”.
Additionally, Liz’s regarding of the Smiths as parental figures, as well as the assumption that Liz is very young and completely innocent is not necessarily supported by text. It is easy to assume that Liz is young because of her simple sentiments and because of her use of “something” and “it” in her point of view of the sex act itself. Conversely, there is no textual evidence to debunk the theory that Liz might not be quite so young, and quite so ignorant to the mechanics of the sexual act. It is possible that Hemingway’s intention of placing the story in a rural part of Michigan was to show the simplicity and primitive nature of life there. Just because Liz did not assign words to “it”, it does not necessarily mean that she does not have an at least general idea of what “it” entails.
During the dock scene, we know that Liz is frightened and unaware of exactly what is in store. It is not explicitly stated that Liz is completely unaware of what COULD be in store. She thinks that she “didn’t know who he was going to go about things but snuggled close to him”. This would indicate that she knew that there was something Jim had to “go about”, and more importantly, that she is willing to do whatever Jim wants her to do.
While Petry suggests that the thing that “clicks” inside Liz is still completely unknown to her, the fact remains that Liz is being fondled by Jim, that she feels Jim “right through the back of her chair”, and that she feels “warmer and softer”. One could argue that if Liz was so completely innocent to such carnal things that the fact that she had been groped and that she could feel anatomical evidence of Jim’s intentions, that she would have cried for help or excused herself from the room. She might have slapped Jim, or she might have run away. She might have said no to his request to take a walk. Liz may be innocent, but we could assume that Hemingway does not want us to think she is stupid. Petry suggests that Liz “takes Jim at his word” when she agrees to go for a walk, suggesting that Liz is completely unaware of what is to happen on the dock. Petry says that “Liz was, in effect, destined to copulate with him, in view of both her ignorance, vulnaribility, confusion, and awakening sexuality, as well as Jim’s comparative experience”
Liz’s ignorance, at this point in the story, must be eclipsed by the intensity of primitive human sexual urges she was privy to in the kitchen. After being groped and kissed roughly by Jim, Liz has had a taste of Jim’s intentions, and even the most innocent and ignorant human woman would have to know that Jim’s intentions would take the situation to a more intense place, rather than less of one. Furthermore, if Liz is truly going through a “sexual awakening”, physiologically she would have urges that would drive her to the act with Jim. Our interpretation does not hold with Liz’s preported “sexual awakening” that Petry suggests is separate from Liz’s infatuation with Jim. In fact, our interpretation suggests that any awakening on Liz’s part is directly related to her feelings for Jim, which (right or wrong) increase with this new attention, regardless of the intentions behind them. Put simply, Liz likes Jim very much, and wants Jim to like her. We are meant to understand that, and to understand that while Liz’s understand might not be complete, it is enough for her to have the gist.
There is also little textual evidence to suggest that Jim has so much experience. As Petry pointed out earlier, we do not have a great deal of information on Jim. The earlier statement of Jim being a primitive character enters in here. Jim likes to hunt, to work, to drink, to have a nice place to sleep, to enjoy the mainly visceral pleasure of life. All we know for sure about Liz is that she likes Jim. One could imagine that Hemingway took some pleasure in creating this little scene for us, almost a primitive mating scenario, in that Jim and his concerns for the basic comforts run across a patiently waiting and opportunely-placed Liz, and the natural order of things followed. Granted it was painful, frightening, and unpleasant for Liz, but at the risk of sounding insensitive, most female first sexual experiences are. We could imagine that the irony and sadness Hemingway tried to convey relate to, yes, the difference between a man and a woman’s idea of love, romance, and mating, but also to the human condition and how it relates to expectation, love, and life in general. Maybe what Hemingway was trying to say is that in a lot of ways, we are no better than animals. Jim for his need to satiate his desires, Liz in her need to protect and nurture without the comfort of romantic platitudes and pledges.
In her criticism, Petry tries very hard to stress the sexual undertones of the story. In fact, she contradicts herself often by not clarifying how Liz could be completely “non-carnal” while going through a “sexual awakening”. A person cannot be both, even if the person going through the sexual awakening is unaware of what is happening to them. A sexual awakening, by nature, is accompanied by sexual feelings and urges. Petry seems to think that a human animal is able to separate urge from awareness, while we could argue that even if Liz didn’t know the names for things, she felt how she felt, and those feelings were rather explicit.
While Petry suggests that the title “Up in Michigan’ is actually a sexual innuendo, one could argue that the simple title indicates not only a location, but also the state of mind one finds in a rural community. Support for this interpretation is found, ironically enough, in Petry’s footnotes, where she clarifies that Philip Young (Hemingway expert) “argues that the title is a ‘sardonic allusion’ to ‘a popular song of the period which praised the bucolic virtues of life in that region’”.
Petry also attaches sexual meaning to the description of the dead deer when the men come back from the trip, and even ties together the fact that Jim killed a deer with the use of the word “death” as a substitute for the word “orgasm”. If Hemingway was writing a story about the tragedy of human relationships, as proposed in our alternate interpretation, one could doubt the validity of Petry’s argument. Hemingway’s picture of this rural Horton’s Bay and it’s day-to-day life is a vivid enough picture of the mindset “up” there. One could say that the story is more primitively-charged than sexually-charged. In a day-to-day world there is death, work, food, and whatever you can draw out of life.
Petry decided not to tackle a certain statement. Even though Liz tells Jim “no”, she thinks that she “wanted it”, and that “she had to have it”. Just like when Liz thinks “he’s come to me finally”, we get the idea that Liz might have urges, but more than anything she likes Jim very much, and wants Jim to want her, therefore she is willing to do whatever she has to keep him close. “Everything felt gone”, but we propose that everything would have felt gone, no matter what, because that is human nature.
It still is not a pretty picture, which is probably why Hemingway considered this to be a sad story. Ironically, Petry uses the same sentiment at the end of her essay, right after she says that Liz’s experience on the dock takes away her attractive neatness. Liz can restore her neatness, she can restore her composure, but she will never be the same, because she has had a glimpse into the heart of the world, and saw that it was cold there, and that we are ultimately alone.
So much to do and it's almost noon
I am writing a paper on Christ In Concrete and The Fortune Pilgrim. Here is the assignment:
"In the texts that we have read, we have seen very different relationships between a character's Old World and New World selves. Looking at two or three of the texts we have read, discuss the relationship between the self in the country of origin and the Americanized self. Is it possible for the two selves to coexist? Is continuity between the former and present self possible? What kinds of theory of identiy are proposed in these tets and what larger conclusions can you draw from this about the project of becoming (or not becoming) American?"
I chose these two texts because there is the lack of assimilation in both. The characters in these books are trying to become Americans, necessarily, but they are trying to adapt to American life, and trying to eke out an existence in extreme poverty - which they were trying to do back in Italy. The Fortunate Pilgrim, especially, speaks to the opportunities in America - and how the new dreams available to immigrants in America can both benefit and destroy an immigrant's soul.
So I'm not following the assignment EXACTLY, especially since the two best examples of what the assignment is asking are Yekl (from Yekl & The Imported Bridegroom), and Mary Antin's first person narraive in The Promised Land. She goes so far as to say that her Old World self died when her New World self was born.
The thing is, I really really loved The Fortunate Pilgrim and want to write about. I could compare Mary Antin to Lucia Santa, but their points of view are so different that I would be comparing and contrasting rather than drawing a definitive conclusion. There is a definite common thread between the idea of America in Christ In Concrete and the idea of America in The Fortunate Pilgrim.
Dwight is going this week to play music with a guy from work and his band. I'm excited for him, as he really does need that creative outlet, and he is so talented that it's a shame to keep all that bottled up. He's going to play keyboard, which is great, but it would really groovy if he practiced on the keyboard downstairs, rather than the piano in the den. It's out of tune, it sounds like it's about to come through the wall where I'm sitting and trying to work, and it's distracting. I don't want to say anything, though, because I don't want to discourage him. I guess I'll deal.
"In the texts that we have read, we have seen very different relationships between a character's Old World and New World selves. Looking at two or three of the texts we have read, discuss the relationship between the self in the country of origin and the Americanized self. Is it possible for the two selves to coexist? Is continuity between the former and present self possible? What kinds of theory of identiy are proposed in these tets and what larger conclusions can you draw from this about the project of becoming (or not becoming) American?"
I chose these two texts because there is the lack of assimilation in both. The characters in these books are trying to become Americans, necessarily, but they are trying to adapt to American life, and trying to eke out an existence in extreme poverty - which they were trying to do back in Italy. The Fortunate Pilgrim, especially, speaks to the opportunities in America - and how the new dreams available to immigrants in America can both benefit and destroy an immigrant's soul.
So I'm not following the assignment EXACTLY, especially since the two best examples of what the assignment is asking are Yekl (from Yekl & The Imported Bridegroom), and Mary Antin's first person narraive in The Promised Land. She goes so far as to say that her Old World self died when her New World self was born.
The thing is, I really really loved The Fortunate Pilgrim and want to write about. I could compare Mary Antin to Lucia Santa, but their points of view are so different that I would be comparing and contrasting rather than drawing a definitive conclusion. There is a definite common thread between the idea of America in Christ In Concrete and the idea of America in The Fortunate Pilgrim.
Dwight is going this week to play music with a guy from work and his band. I'm excited for him, as he really does need that creative outlet, and he is so talented that it's a shame to keep all that bottled up. He's going to play keyboard, which is great, but it would really groovy if he practiced on the keyboard downstairs, rather than the piano in the den. It's out of tune, it sounds like it's about to come through the wall where I'm sitting and trying to work, and it's distracting. I don't want to say anything, though, because I don't want to discourage him. I guess I'll deal.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Heaven Help Us
One of the main reasons I've been neglecting you, Dear Blog, is because I haven't felt like writing about what is going on at work. I've delayed the inevitable as long as possible, and it looks like I could lose my job at any possible moment. Yes, my time at the venerable institution is coming to an end. It could happen Monday, it could happen after Christmas, it could happen at the end of January. It's coming, and I'm stressed, scared, and generally totally depressed.
http://www.timesdispatch.com/rtd/business/local/article/LAND17_20081216-213244/153129/
http://www.inman.com/news/2008/12/17/fidelity-closes-in-landamerica-deal
This deal could mean that many of my co-workers in the field could keep their jobs, so I'm in favor of it, but I don't know how it will affect me and the other workers at the company "headquarters". I guess this is one of those times where I wish I could support myself, husband, and cat with my meager blogging and sheer hope alone. The economy is bad and there are few jobs out there. And for every job out there exists hundreds of qualified applicants.
How does this affect me personally? Well, for one, I am not sure we can afford for me to go to school next semester. Which means that after a lackluster academic start in 1995, a failure and cry of "uncle" in 1999, finally going back and taking night classes (starting in Spring 2007) while working full time and maintaining a 3.83 average (12 classes - 10 A's, 2 B's) I might have gotten to my last 3 classes and have to stop. It's infuriating, and I'm so discouraged that I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like it would be selfish of me to try to allocate the meager funds we'll have to my sizeable tuition when we could be, I don't know, paying rent? Paying off debt? The possibility of finding something that would pay enough, be flexible to let me take a 4:00 class on Mondays and Wednesdays, and that would be easy enough for me to get the hang of without concentrating 100% is darn near impossible. I try to have a que sera sera kind of attitude, but I'm pretty down in the dumps right now.
So. Cherry holiday blog? No. That means I HAVE to blog tomorrow, to make up for it.
http://www.timesdispatch.com/rtd/business/local/article/LAND17_20081216-213244/153129/
http://www.inman.com/news/2008/12/17/fidelity-closes-in-landamerica-deal
This deal could mean that many of my co-workers in the field could keep their jobs, so I'm in favor of it, but I don't know how it will affect me and the other workers at the company "headquarters". I guess this is one of those times where I wish I could support myself, husband, and cat with my meager blogging and sheer hope alone. The economy is bad and there are few jobs out there. And for every job out there exists hundreds of qualified applicants.
How does this affect me personally? Well, for one, I am not sure we can afford for me to go to school next semester. Which means that after a lackluster academic start in 1995, a failure and cry of "uncle" in 1999, finally going back and taking night classes (starting in Spring 2007) while working full time and maintaining a 3.83 average (12 classes - 10 A's, 2 B's) I might have gotten to my last 3 classes and have to stop. It's infuriating, and I'm so discouraged that I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like it would be selfish of me to try to allocate the meager funds we'll have to my sizeable tuition when we could be, I don't know, paying rent? Paying off debt? The possibility of finding something that would pay enough, be flexible to let me take a 4:00 class on Mondays and Wednesdays, and that would be easy enough for me to get the hang of without concentrating 100% is darn near impossible. I try to have a que sera sera kind of attitude, but I'm pretty down in the dumps right now.
So. Cherry holiday blog? No. That means I HAVE to blog tomorrow, to make up for it.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Ah, the Holidays
Poor blog. Did you feel neglected? Did you think I didn't love you anymore? Pish posh. I've been busy riding the work rollercoaster - up & down - merger or no merger? Job or no job? I've got my resume out there but my heart's not in the hunt. I'm in a state of shock. Shock, blog. No kidding.
I've also been documenting the lack of success any product or treatment I try has had on my dermie situation. My ankles and hands are still really bad and I've been taking pictures every few days to see if it's improving. It's not. I plan to publish the results as soon as there are any. I am of the strong opinion that psoriasis is an illness pariah. I'm not trynig to make it chic or anything, but it certainly shouldn't have to be anybody's dirty little secret. Just wait, World. We're not stopping with The Singing Detective. No way.
Blah blah. Finally got Christmassy this weekend. I'll snap a pic of the tree after I get the presents wrapped.
I'm taking the day off to celebrate the end of the semester and straight A's, though I got a B minus on my Brit Lit paper and I'm totally bummed about it, even though I got an A in the class.
I will not spend all day watching E! Entertainment Network and hating myself. I will not spend all day...
I've also been documenting the lack of success any product or treatment I try has had on my dermie situation. My ankles and hands are still really bad and I've been taking pictures every few days to see if it's improving. It's not. I plan to publish the results as soon as there are any. I am of the strong opinion that psoriasis is an illness pariah. I'm not trynig to make it chic or anything, but it certainly shouldn't have to be anybody's dirty little secret. Just wait, World. We're not stopping with The Singing Detective. No way.
Blah blah. Finally got Christmassy this weekend. I'll snap a pic of the tree after I get the presents wrapped.
I'm taking the day off to celebrate the end of the semester and straight A's, though I got a B minus on my Brit Lit paper and I'm totally bummed about it, even though I got an A in the class.
I will not spend all day watching E! Entertainment Network and hating myself. I will not spend all day...
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Proof that you can turn almost anything into a creative writing project
Feeling a little bit better. Yesterday in Writing in the Workplace we had to write a business letter explaining to our customer that they could not return their glass slippers, as it had bee 48 days since purchase and the return policy cuts off at 15 days. Here is my submision:
Glass Slipper Industries
9804 Fairytale Lane
Richmond, VA 23060
September 29, 2008
Dear Ms. Ella:We are so sorry to hear of your displeasure with the T-330 Glass Slippers that you purchased in our Fairygodmom branch. We are dedicated to providing the best products designed for your own happily-ever-after.
Unfortunately, in order to receive a full refund, the T-330 Glass Slippers must be returned within 15 days of original purchase. As you purchased your T-330 Glass Slippers 48 days ago, we are not able to refund your money. The reason for this policy is twofold: after 15 days the initial magic wears off, rendering the T-330 unusable to other potential owners, and, as you know, your T-330 Glass Slippers are custom-fit and enchanted just for you. If you do not get your intended results within the 15-day magic effectiveness window, the Glass Slippers are yours to keep, but are not returnable under the policy’s terms.
We understand that it is frustrating when magical enchantments and charms do not turn out as we have hoped. At Glass Slipper Industries, we use the best magic in the business to charm the universe into consenting to your desired result. We stand by our motto, which is “If It Can Happen We Will Make It Happen For You”. We are truly sorry that your wish could not be our command.
As a commitment to you, our valued customer, we are pleased to offer you the enclosed $50 gift card, which can be used at any of our branches, and also on our website. Please feel free to direct any comments or questions to our Consumer Affairs Department, and for your convenience please see the attached document on how to reuse or recycle unwanted glass slippers.We thank you for your business, and hope that this gift to you renews your faith in Glass Slipper Industries.
Sincerely,
Liz Downing Johnson
Vice President, Enchantments and Charms
Glass Slipper Industries
9804 Fairytale Lane
Richmond, VA 23060
September 29, 2008
Dear Ms. Ella:We are so sorry to hear of your displeasure with the T-330 Glass Slippers that you purchased in our Fairygodmom branch. We are dedicated to providing the best products designed for your own happily-ever-after.
Unfortunately, in order to receive a full refund, the T-330 Glass Slippers must be returned within 15 days of original purchase. As you purchased your T-330 Glass Slippers 48 days ago, we are not able to refund your money. The reason for this policy is twofold: after 15 days the initial magic wears off, rendering the T-330 unusable to other potential owners, and, as you know, your T-330 Glass Slippers are custom-fit and enchanted just for you. If you do not get your intended results within the 15-day magic effectiveness window, the Glass Slippers are yours to keep, but are not returnable under the policy’s terms.
We understand that it is frustrating when magical enchantments and charms do not turn out as we have hoped. At Glass Slipper Industries, we use the best magic in the business to charm the universe into consenting to your desired result. We stand by our motto, which is “If It Can Happen We Will Make It Happen For You”. We are truly sorry that your wish could not be our command.
As a commitment to you, our valued customer, we are pleased to offer you the enclosed $50 gift card, which can be used at any of our branches, and also on our website. Please feel free to direct any comments or questions to our Consumer Affairs Department, and for your convenience please see the attached document on how to reuse or recycle unwanted glass slippers.We thank you for your business, and hope that this gift to you renews your faith in Glass Slipper Industries.
Sincerely,
Liz Downing Johnson
Vice President, Enchantments and Charms
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday Morning
Got the paper finished. Yay for me. Didn't get all the reading done. Boo for me. Running late for work, where hopefully I will get the budget laid out so that my boss isn't disappointed in me.
I had a dream about walking a long way. I was tired and thirsty and my back hurt a lot. Funny enough, I woke up tired and thirsty with a sore back. Huh.
I had a dream about walking a long way. I was tired and thirsty and my back hurt a lot. Funny enough, I woke up tired and thirsty with a sore back. Huh.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Not so successful
Paper is not done. Paper is not near done. Paper is due in...41 hours.
On the upside, I think I have it all planned out, and I know just what to watch out for while I'm writing it. I've got all the ammo, I just need to start the fight. I think if I get up at 7 I can have it done by noon. Then I can clean the house and do the grocery shopping and read about 300 pages of Pamela. Then I can go to bed at, like, 7, because I need to get to the office early early Monday so that I can get enough of the budget project finished to impress my boss at our 1:30 meeting. Then it's off to school to drop off my 301 response to William Blake for class Thursday, turn in my paper, discuss Pamela in class, go to my other class and do whatever our cool teacher thinks up for this one (always great discussion in that class - she's a very good resource for information), then come home and read yet more Pamela. THEN I've got a Discussion Board post to write for class on Wednesday, and a follow-up prep exercise for the 303 class web project that is also due Wednesday.
So I've made a decision. Between midterms and Thanksgivng, I plan to complete as many assignments as possible that are due later in the semester so that I don't run into another crunch time like this. Working ahead of time. Me. Go figure.
I realize these "what I'm doing" blogs aren't as interesting as, I don't know, movie reviews or pictures of my friend's awesome kid, but it's what's on my mind right now and I don't really have a lot of free time for fun stuff. Maybe I would feel better if I documented things in a more interesting way. That would make me look at things to find what is interesting and therefore make things more interesting to me while they are happening, thus making me feel more accomplished, and make me enjoy life more. It's worth a try.
Also, the dermie (psoriasis) situation is getting dire. I really need to start this new medicine. I might document the progress (if there will be any) but maybe that would freak people out. Either that or all of the sudden I'd get tons of traffic from the people who are part of the forum, but then I'd need to write about it all the time, thus alienating all the people who DON'T have funky skin diseases. Huh. Something to think about.
I'm going to write this paper in the morning, and it's going to be awesome. It's going to be the best paper I've ever written. Positive thinking. So I'm going to sleep in exactly 30 minutes after reading as many pages of Pamela as I can in 30 minutes. I'm going to wake up fresh, and alert, and if I don't get some momentum by the time the library opens I am going to go there and finish it. On this laptop. I am resolute.
Incidentally, I got the impression that I did a good job on Mom's birthday. She seemed really touched. And to top it all off, I now have "Chick Flick Cherry"- colored toes. Bonus.
On the upside, I think I have it all planned out, and I know just what to watch out for while I'm writing it. I've got all the ammo, I just need to start the fight. I think if I get up at 7 I can have it done by noon. Then I can clean the house and do the grocery shopping and read about 300 pages of Pamela. Then I can go to bed at, like, 7, because I need to get to the office early early Monday so that I can get enough of the budget project finished to impress my boss at our 1:30 meeting. Then it's off to school to drop off my 301 response to William Blake for class Thursday, turn in my paper, discuss Pamela in class, go to my other class and do whatever our cool teacher thinks up for this one (always great discussion in that class - she's a very good resource for information), then come home and read yet more Pamela. THEN I've got a Discussion Board post to write for class on Wednesday, and a follow-up prep exercise for the 303 class web project that is also due Wednesday.
So I've made a decision. Between midterms and Thanksgivng, I plan to complete as many assignments as possible that are due later in the semester so that I don't run into another crunch time like this. Working ahead of time. Me. Go figure.
I realize these "what I'm doing" blogs aren't as interesting as, I don't know, movie reviews or pictures of my friend's awesome kid, but it's what's on my mind right now and I don't really have a lot of free time for fun stuff. Maybe I would feel better if I documented things in a more interesting way. That would make me look at things to find what is interesting and therefore make things more interesting to me while they are happening, thus making me feel more accomplished, and make me enjoy life more. It's worth a try.
Also, the dermie (psoriasis) situation is getting dire. I really need to start this new medicine. I might document the progress (if there will be any) but maybe that would freak people out. Either that or all of the sudden I'd get tons of traffic from the people who are part of the forum, but then I'd need to write about it all the time, thus alienating all the people who DON'T have funky skin diseases. Huh. Something to think about.
I'm going to write this paper in the morning, and it's going to be awesome. It's going to be the best paper I've ever written. Positive thinking. So I'm going to sleep in exactly 30 minutes after reading as many pages of Pamela as I can in 30 minutes. I'm going to wake up fresh, and alert, and if I don't get some momentum by the time the library opens I am going to go there and finish it. On this laptop. I am resolute.
Incidentally, I got the impression that I did a good job on Mom's birthday. She seemed really touched. And to top it all off, I now have "Chick Flick Cherry"- colored toes. Bonus.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Blog
I have been avoiding blogging, because my grandma always said that if you didn't have anything good to say then you shouldn't say anything at all. Nyuck nyuck. Things have been fine, really, just working really hard but not hard enough and feeling pretty overwhelmed. But instead of yet another "I'm so overwhelmed by all the things I have to do that I feel paralyzed and manage to watch a lot of TV instead" blog, I thought I'd write about something else. Not about having a huge and intimadating project for work work that I might never get finished. Not about the fact that everything has shifted so much at work that I'm not sure I'm not getting phased out. Not about having a 5-7 page paper due Monday that I haven't started yet. Not about having a 400+ page novel to read and only am on page 66. Not about having to do a web criticism project for my writing class. Not about the gazillion IDP goals I put up on my profile at work and now feel obligated to do. Not about the fact that Saturday is my mom's (and my mother-in-law's) birthday and I haven't shopped yet, plus I'm having my parents over for dinner Saturday and my house is filthy. Not about having a response to write about William Blake. Not about how messy my desk at work is. Not about the article I owe Shell that I really really really want to write but can't find three more examples to make it a true top ten list.
Nope. Not going to write about any of that stuff. Instead, I'm going to tell you about the dream I had the other night where I was me for half of a dream, but for the first half I was a border collie/terrier mix. Me and my dog (or me and my master who is me, depending on which perspective you want to stick with) live in a lakeside community. The air is fresh, the trees are green, the foliage is verdant and lush. The lake is clean and a lovely shade of whatever color means it's not polluted. The neighbors are friendly, and we all have tons in common and progressive dinner parties in the spring and fall. I am married, but he's not in this dream for some reason. He's Away. For a couple of months or something, while this particiular incident takes place. You see, as idyllic as the setting may be, nothing in this world is perfect. No, Gentle Readers, there is a Menace in Whispering Oaks. That's the name of the neighborhood. You'd have thought they would have named it something to do with the water, but you'll have to take that up with the crappy city planners in my dream. Anyway. The Menace happens to be a creature. One of Mythical Proportions and Legendary Ferociousness. Ferocity. Whatever. It's mean. It's an AlligatorFishPig, and it's loose and running wild. The elusive AlligatorFishPig creature is the stuff of tall tales and fairy tales and all kinds of tales (except it doesn't have tail, because Old Man Winters cut it off in the Winter of 1992 - it hangs on his wall to this day) and is something mean babysitters use to scare their charges. It is mean, and big, and it smells really bad.
During the first part of the dream when I'm the dog I am just really curious and interested in the AlligatorFishPig. I run off chasing it through the woods when I hear it snorting and it always drives my master (me) crazy. Because I'm (the master) always afraid the dog is going to get hurt, but the dog thinks that's silly, because how could anything that smells so interesting be dangerous? I know, dogs are naive.
I won't bore you with this any more, but I'll tell you that there is a twist at the end, and it's really surprising. And good. And interesting. And I'll probably forget it before I even hit "publish post".
Ah. The dangers of preoccupied blogging. Back to Pamela. I'm going to go read the crap out of that book.
Nope. Not going to write about any of that stuff. Instead, I'm going to tell you about the dream I had the other night where I was me for half of a dream, but for the first half I was a border collie/terrier mix. Me and my dog (or me and my master who is me, depending on which perspective you want to stick with) live in a lakeside community. The air is fresh, the trees are green, the foliage is verdant and lush. The lake is clean and a lovely shade of whatever color means it's not polluted. The neighbors are friendly, and we all have tons in common and progressive dinner parties in the spring and fall. I am married, but he's not in this dream for some reason. He's Away. For a couple of months or something, while this particiular incident takes place. You see, as idyllic as the setting may be, nothing in this world is perfect. No, Gentle Readers, there is a Menace in Whispering Oaks. That's the name of the neighborhood. You'd have thought they would have named it something to do with the water, but you'll have to take that up with the crappy city planners in my dream. Anyway. The Menace happens to be a creature. One of Mythical Proportions and Legendary Ferociousness. Ferocity. Whatever. It's mean. It's an AlligatorFishPig, and it's loose and running wild. The elusive AlligatorFishPig creature is the stuff of tall tales and fairy tales and all kinds of tales (except it doesn't have tail, because Old Man Winters cut it off in the Winter of 1992 - it hangs on his wall to this day) and is something mean babysitters use to scare their charges. It is mean, and big, and it smells really bad.
During the first part of the dream when I'm the dog I am just really curious and interested in the AlligatorFishPig. I run off chasing it through the woods when I hear it snorting and it always drives my master (me) crazy. Because I'm (the master) always afraid the dog is going to get hurt, but the dog thinks that's silly, because how could anything that smells so interesting be dangerous? I know, dogs are naive.
I won't bore you with this any more, but I'll tell you that there is a twist at the end, and it's really surprising. And good. And interesting. And I'll probably forget it before I even hit "publish post".
Ah. The dangers of preoccupied blogging. Back to Pamela. I'm going to go read the crap out of that book.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Despair Song of F. Lostanlonely Fumblebock
In English class tonight (one of the three I'm taking) we were supposed to discuss "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". There wasn't enough time to get into it well enough, and I got the distinct impression that my professor didn't like it near as much as he liked the Auden poem we discussed before it.
I love the poem, and felt really unsatisfied by tonight's discussion because while I love the poem I've never been in a classroom setting the discussed the poem. Because I feel so unfulfilled, I decided to read up on it after I did my writing class's assignmnt. If this thing shows my other blogs, you can check it out. It's vitalitywellness.blogspot.com. We did a pretty rocking job, I must say. That would be one heck of a gym. I'd join.
I digress. Back to T.S. Eliot. We did discuss the name J. Alfred Prufrock in class. As it turns out, Eliot wanted the name to be a combination of the words "prude" and "frock" and the original name of the poem was "Prufrock Among The Women". Eliot started writing it when he was in college, but published it several years later. Interestingly, he signed the poem "T. Stearnes Eliot", which would lead you to believe that the fears and insecurities that the title character feels mirror Eliot's. Eliot did not approve of poets who wrote poems about themselves, so he made Prufrock an older, middle-aged man and dramatized the narrative. I feel like that didn't take all the Eliot out of the Prufrock, but he might not have agreed.
Yes, Eliot was kind of Pound-ish in his pretensions, but I really enjoy his work and even though this part of the class is over I will definitely continue to learn more on my own. That's what learning's all about, I suppose.
I love the poem, and felt really unsatisfied by tonight's discussion because while I love the poem I've never been in a classroom setting the discussed the poem. Because I feel so unfulfilled, I decided to read up on it after I did my writing class's assignmnt. If this thing shows my other blogs, you can check it out. It's vitalitywellness.blogspot.com. We did a pretty rocking job, I must say. That would be one heck of a gym. I'd join.
I digress. Back to T.S. Eliot. We did discuss the name J. Alfred Prufrock in class. As it turns out, Eliot wanted the name to be a combination of the words "prude" and "frock" and the original name of the poem was "Prufrock Among The Women". Eliot started writing it when he was in college, but published it several years later. Interestingly, he signed the poem "T. Stearnes Eliot", which would lead you to believe that the fears and insecurities that the title character feels mirror Eliot's. Eliot did not approve of poets who wrote poems about themselves, so he made Prufrock an older, middle-aged man and dramatized the narrative. I feel like that didn't take all the Eliot out of the Prufrock, but he might not have agreed.
Yes, Eliot was kind of Pound-ish in his pretensions, but I really enjoy his work and even though this part of the class is over I will definitely continue to learn more on my own. That's what learning's all about, I suppose.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Still Sicky
As it turns out, pancreatitis is not as easy to get over as I anticipated. The internet said 2-3 days, the ER doctor said 2-3 WEEKS, and my PCP said 1 week. So I don't know what to think. Literally, since they've got me on so many meds that I can't see straight. I will hopefully see a specialist soon, who will hopefully take me off the crazy barrage of medicines.
In the meantime I am missing work, which I HATE to do, mainly because it puts me behind and secondarily because I'm scared it makes me look bad and will/may get me in trouble. Because I'm paranoid like that.
I am behind on schoolwork already, even though I had yesterday and today to do it (and technically the parts of Thursday and Friday that I didn't work from home) but have been wonked out by medicine so unable. That means I have a 1/2 book to read, a 3-5 pager, a written transcription of the poem that the 3-5 pager is on, a 1 pager, a simulated resume for Business Writing, and a 2 pager all due by Tuesday. I hope I'm feeling better tomorrow night, since I only managed to get the first 1/2 of the book, the online response for said first 1/2 of book and the preliminary thinking for the 3-5 pager done so far tonight, and it's almost time for the green pill, which takes me to lala land. I might be getting a doctor's note to get extensions on some of these things.
All in all, sickness plus the stress is not haappy time for me. Sorry for the crappy blog.
In the meantime I am missing work, which I HATE to do, mainly because it puts me behind and secondarily because I'm scared it makes me look bad and will/may get me in trouble. Because I'm paranoid like that.
I am behind on schoolwork already, even though I had yesterday and today to do it (and technically the parts of Thursday and Friday that I didn't work from home) but have been wonked out by medicine so unable. That means I have a 1/2 book to read, a 3-5 pager, a written transcription of the poem that the 3-5 pager is on, a 1 pager, a simulated resume for Business Writing, and a 2 pager all due by Tuesday. I hope I'm feeling better tomorrow night, since I only managed to get the first 1/2 of the book, the online response for said first 1/2 of book and the preliminary thinking for the 3-5 pager done so far tonight, and it's almost time for the green pill, which takes me to lala land. I might be getting a doctor's note to get extensions on some of these things.
All in all, sickness plus the stress is not haappy time for me. Sorry for the crappy blog.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Action-Packed
The past couple of days have been busy. I worked 6:30 AM till whenever at work then came home, worked on homework for a little while, got ready, and went out to dinner with friends. That was very nice and I was very sleepy by the time we got home. K & K stopped by for a quick visit, and I promptly fell asleep with my head on D's shoulder. Got up yesterday and worked on a nasty financial exercise for my parents, our friends from VA Beach came over and visited and while they went to dinner at Comfort D and I went to an old friend of mine's wedding. My ex boss was the DJ, but the exchange was not as unpleasant as my employment's end would have dictated. I guess sometimes time does heal all wounds, except in the case of the bride, with whom I have a complicated past. I thought by going to the wedding it would show a "we've both got our shit together and are no longer dysfunctional drunks. You are married with a child, I am married with a cat, we are equals as far as formerly-dysfunctional drunks go, and I wish you the very best" kind of solidarity. Instead the exchange was indeed more awkward that the conversation with my ex-boss whom I quitted with profanity after some very explosive arguing (I maintain it was mostly his fault). This conversation was lovely and nurturing compared to the awkward exchange with Das Bride. She looked lovely, and I'm glad she is happy. I'll leave it at that, rather than speculate on the "unfinished business" she said she had with me.
We came home to find that our VA Beach friends had locked the knob on the den door on their way out. Bummer. They have one key to the front door knobs and deadbolt. My parents have the other. Therefore neither D or I have a front door key. The front door is the only door in the house that has one key that operates both the knob and the deadbolt. The other two doors (both in the den) are flip-flopped. That is, the key that fits the knob on the front den door also works the deadbolt on the back den door, while the key that works the knob on the back den door works the deadbolt on the front den door. The latter key is the key that both D and I use to get into the den, and therefore we never lock the den front door knob, as we don't have a key for it (K & K have that one). Complicated. Frustrating. And so there we were after sweating and getting eaten by bugs at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, dressed in a dress and tie (me and him, respectively) and we were locked out of our house.
Luckily it didn't take long for our guests to get here, and I fell asleep promptly after eating many Totino's Pizza Rolls and watching reruns of the Dog Whisperer.
Today I'm going to tutor my dad in the basics of Microsoft Office, then we're having barbeque with Mom, Dad, Aunt, and Uncle as a Labor Day celebration. All this and I have the following to complete before Tuesday:
1. Read all of The Pilgrim's Progress and read the online discussion topics posted by fellow students in order to form thoughts for discussion on Wednesday (ENG 415)
2. Read "The Thought Fox" by Ted Hughes and "Daddy" by Sylvia Plath, pick one and write a well-formed opinion on for class on Tuesday (ENG 301)
3. Start memorizing "The Windhover" for my oral recitation of it on Sept. 16 (ENG 301)
4. Create a resume for the class's critique (ENG 303)
I truly meant to take picture of the dapperness that was me and D yesterday, but it was hot and I was troubled by the awkwardness, so just imagine a green shirt and tie and a brown polka-dotted number and you'll get the picture.
Off to prepare for tutuoring and read an article on blogging that JB sent me.
Monday, July 7, 2008
F'Ing Chemistry
OK. I admit it. Not only do I not get the chemistry that I've recently paid $300 to take, I am also so astoundingly bored by it that I have a hard time snapping myself into panic mode in order to catch up and get a passing grade.
I'm 31 freaking years old, people. I don't fail classes. I've been an almost-straight-A student since I've been back in school and I pride myself on overcoming obstacles - taking on a seriously tough classload while working full time and trying to maintain some semblance of a normal life. BUT CHEMISTRY IS KICKING MY ASS.
I hate it. I hate valence electrons and ionic compounds and -ates and -ites tetra-ides and all of it. I am so far behind (like three chapters behind) and I have until July 25 to complete ALL of it.
That's it. Tomorrow after work I am going to the library. I'm going to sit and read the stupid book and the teacher's very thorough and very detailed study guide (thank God for it) and I'm going to pound this knowledge into my head. I'm going to take the Chapter 3b quiz, I'm going to do better than a 52 (my score on the last quiz, and I wouldn't have done that well if I hadn't coerced Dwight into reading Chapter 3 and helping me) and I'm just going to roll through. I'm going to move my midterm appointment from Wednesday to Friday or Saturday and I'm going to the LIBRARY tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday and I'm going to catch up. Enough. This is haunting my every move, and I've got so much work work to do at (guess where?) WORK that I have no room in my head for this worry. Chemistry? Sure. I've got room for Chemistry. But not for worry.
Stay tuned. And hey, if you ever get the chance to take an online Chemistry class...don't do it. For the love of Pete (whoever that is) and for all that is sacred and holy, please don't take that class online. Have a teacher who can stand in front of you and answer all the baffled looks you through his/her way. For real. Those are my words of wisdom for the day.
I'm 31 freaking years old, people. I don't fail classes. I've been an almost-straight-A student since I've been back in school and I pride myself on overcoming obstacles - taking on a seriously tough classload while working full time and trying to maintain some semblance of a normal life. BUT CHEMISTRY IS KICKING MY ASS.
I hate it. I hate valence electrons and ionic compounds and -ates and -ites tetra-ides and all of it. I am so far behind (like three chapters behind) and I have until July 25 to complete ALL of it.
That's it. Tomorrow after work I am going to the library. I'm going to sit and read the stupid book and the teacher's very thorough and very detailed study guide (thank God for it) and I'm going to pound this knowledge into my head. I'm going to take the Chapter 3b quiz, I'm going to do better than a 52 (my score on the last quiz, and I wouldn't have done that well if I hadn't coerced Dwight into reading Chapter 3 and helping me) and I'm just going to roll through. I'm going to move my midterm appointment from Wednesday to Friday or Saturday and I'm going to the LIBRARY tomorrow, Wednesday, and Thursday and I'm going to catch up. Enough. This is haunting my every move, and I've got so much work work to do at (guess where?) WORK that I have no room in my head for this worry. Chemistry? Sure. I've got room for Chemistry. But not for worry.
Stay tuned. And hey, if you ever get the chance to take an online Chemistry class...don't do it. For the love of Pete (whoever that is) and for all that is sacred and holy, please don't take that class online. Have a teacher who can stand in front of you and answer all the baffled looks you through his/her way. For real. Those are my words of wisdom for the day.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Update and Back Into the Swing
I finally finished the semester with two A's. Yes, the hellish paper is finished and was deemed worthy. I got an A- on it, presumably because I didn't do 100% documentation. I documented my sources, but not correctly in all cases. I think MLA format was invented by the devil.
Today is Mother's Day, so I give a big shout out to the woman who birthed me and put up with me for all these years. I'm sitting on her couch listening her talk to my aunt (her sister), like she does every Sunday from 12:00 PM - 1:00 PM. It's a hard day for my aunt. It's the anniversary of her daughter's death from ovarian cancer, and it's a cruel trick of fate that it would fall on Mother's Day this year. It will again in 2014. One month later is the anniversary of my aunt's GRANDDAUGHTER's death in 2005 - a freak accident that happened several years after her mother (my aunt's daughter) died. Sad...this time of year is very sad. I guess the bright side could be that it makes you more appreciative that you have your family and you have the friends you do (if you do), but I wonder what possible consolation there could be for someone like my aunt who has lost so much. It's a lot to think about.
I think I'm going to start writing short stories about some of my family and tie them all together in a dark, depressing, Faulkner-esque kind of way. I might even through some regional slang in there. So stay tuned for that, because it should be pretty fun to read.
My husband is helping my father build a shed in the backyard of my parent's house. He's generally easy to get along with, but today he was pretty darn grumpy. I can hear him talking to my Dad and he's laughing and stuff, so I guess he's either in a better mood, or he's planning to go home, beat up the cat, take a crap in my favorite shoes, and start drinking by 1:00. I'll accept either, but I'd rather he takes it easy on the cat. She's getting older and can't defend herself like she used to (**disclaimer to anyone who might read this: although the possiblility that anyone at all reads this blog is laughable, on the off chance someone stumbles across this, please don't report me to PETA. I don't allow my husband to beat my cat, nor do I beat my cat, and I don't advocate cat-beating in any circumstance. Unless the cat is your size or larger, and it took your shoes).
I'm taking Mom to get a pedicure once she gets off the phone. Happy Mother's Day!
Today is Mother's Day, so I give a big shout out to the woman who birthed me and put up with me for all these years. I'm sitting on her couch listening her talk to my aunt (her sister), like she does every Sunday from 12:00 PM - 1:00 PM. It's a hard day for my aunt. It's the anniversary of her daughter's death from ovarian cancer, and it's a cruel trick of fate that it would fall on Mother's Day this year. It will again in 2014. One month later is the anniversary of my aunt's GRANDDAUGHTER's death in 2005 - a freak accident that happened several years after her mother (my aunt's daughter) died. Sad...this time of year is very sad. I guess the bright side could be that it makes you more appreciative that you have your family and you have the friends you do (if you do), but I wonder what possible consolation there could be for someone like my aunt who has lost so much. It's a lot to think about.
I think I'm going to start writing short stories about some of my family and tie them all together in a dark, depressing, Faulkner-esque kind of way. I might even through some regional slang in there. So stay tuned for that, because it should be pretty fun to read.
My husband is helping my father build a shed in the backyard of my parent's house. He's generally easy to get along with, but today he was pretty darn grumpy. I can hear him talking to my Dad and he's laughing and stuff, so I guess he's either in a better mood, or he's planning to go home, beat up the cat, take a crap in my favorite shoes, and start drinking by 1:00. I'll accept either, but I'd rather he takes it easy on the cat. She's getting older and can't defend herself like she used to (**disclaimer to anyone who might read this: although the possiblility that anyone at all reads this blog is laughable, on the off chance someone stumbles across this, please don't report me to PETA. I don't allow my husband to beat my cat, nor do I beat my cat, and I don't advocate cat-beating in any circumstance. Unless the cat is your size or larger, and it took your shoes).
I'm taking Mom to get a pedicure once she gets off the phone. Happy Mother's Day!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
I hate school
I hate college. Now I remember why I dropped out. Because I hate it. I hate the pressure and the uncertainty. I hate having WAY too much work to do...and now it's even worse because I actually CARE about doing well and I need to succeed for reasons other than my parents might get mad at me.
I had no concept of how much it cost...how much money I was wasting by farting around like I did. Now that I'm back in and paying for it myself I feel SO guilty about failing so many classes, about not caring whether or not I did well, about being such a dipshit.
Did I mention the crazy workload? I'm really busy at work, too, so it's very hard to find the time to work, do the extra work I do at work (I do about three people's jobs), go to class, do the homework, do the extra homework because I HAD to take two really labor-intesive classes in the same semester), AND find time to hang out with friends, spend time with family, etc.
It's so stressful I've had to drink a lot of wine and cry a lot. I've picked myself up by the bootstraps and have been working for the last 4 hours on a research paper that terrifies the ever living shit out me. I plan to spend 9:45-9:45 tomorrow on it too because I CAN'T SEEM TO GET IT UNDER CONTROL. I have vowed to drink no more alcohol until the paper is ready and would receive at least a C in this class, since that's what I've got to get for tuition reimbursement. Dwight says that if I'm freaking way out he might force-feed me a glass of Pinot, but then I won't want to stop and he has a REAL hard time saying no to me, so I think I'll keep my freakouts to myself and try to motor through this naturally and booze-less, while hopefully incorporating a workout regimen into the old schedule. Of course that means I'll have to get up at around 5:30 every morning (because it's getting impossible to work out during my lunch break--busy busy and FORGET doing it at night after class--it just won't happen) and trying to get to bed by 9:30 at night. That'll be hard on the night that I don't get out of class until 8:50, but we'll see what happens.
I have to get serious. II have to get a little confidence. 'm terrified of this paper, and I am terrified that I can't do this. Somehow that part of my brain has been removed and I'm just spinning my wheels, walking in circles, setting myself up for a massive failure.
So, yeah.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
UGH
I'm either totally exhausted or I'm getting sick. That, added to some "too personal for a the world wide web" health stuff that's going on, is making me wish I didn't have to go to class tonight. Unfortunately the way this Statistics schedule works is that if I don't go to class I get a zero in SOMETHING, so barring bleeding eyeballs or projectile vomiting, I'm going.
I left work early hoping I could get some rest and not feel too bad among the masses downtown, but as time goes on I feel worse and worse. I do promise that my illness has nothing to do with how badly I want to watch the premiere of Lost. We have a DVR for that. Nice try, though.
We're having a "Discovery Process" workshop in English class tonight. Tell you all about it later.
I left work early hoping I could get some rest and not feel too bad among the masses downtown, but as time goes on I feel worse and worse. I do promise that my illness has nothing to do with how badly I want to watch the premiere of Lost. We have a DVR for that. Nice try, though.
We're having a "Discovery Process" workshop in English class tonight. Tell you all about it later.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Heh. Duplicate Crap
I thought the first Sugar Fails blog was lost, so I wrote another. I think I'll keep them both up until I am interested enough to read them both again and decide which one I like better.
Might as well start drafts and versions of things--I have a whole semester of term paper ahead of me, and I beleive I'll just go ahead and bring this blog along with me and document the whole darn process. If nothing else it will keep me sane. Even if it doesn't do that, it will explain to my loved ones just what it was that finally drove me over the edge...
Might as well start drafts and versions of things--I have a whole semester of term paper ahead of me, and I beleive I'll just go ahead and bring this blog along with me and document the whole darn process. If nothing else it will keep me sane. Even if it doesn't do that, it will explain to my loved ones just what it was that finally drove me over the edge...
Friday, January 4, 2008
Resolute
I promised myself I'd write every day, and I'm doing it, whether it's worth a damn or not. I ended up going into the office today, and I'm really glad I did. Everyone acted happy to see me.
Ate utter crap for dinner...cheesesteak and cheese fries. So much for THAT part of my New Year's Resolution. Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow.
Gotta go to bed early. I've reviewed my returned assignments from this intercession course and I've got to say I'm happy but irritated. NOWHERE in the real world do they condemn you for using contractions. Get over it, guys.
Meh. I have class tomorrow (that's right, on Saturday) and I've got to get up early to type my paper. I wrote it out in class today, but I still need to type it.
Maybe I have enough energy to play with my planner some more. I really love that thing.
Ate utter crap for dinner...cheesesteak and cheese fries. So much for THAT part of my New Year's Resolution. Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow.
Gotta go to bed early. I've reviewed my returned assignments from this intercession course and I've got to say I'm happy but irritated. NOWHERE in the real world do they condemn you for using contractions. Get over it, guys.
Meh. I have class tomorrow (that's right, on Saturday) and I've got to get up early to type my paper. I wrote it out in class today, but I still need to type it.
Maybe I have enough energy to play with my planner some more. I really love that thing.
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