Mid-Winter Break
This winter break is a glorious respite from the haggard overwork of grad. school life. Not that I don't enjoy school--I really do--but I was certainly on the cliff's dangerous edge for awhile peering over straight into the abyss. Of course, this doesn't mean that I won't return to that edge once break is over, but I'm hoping that I will be more prepared to handle the challenges it will present. Also, the paper that I'm supposed to write over the break has been haunting my mind for the last several days. I haven't written anything more on it, nor I have done any of the necessary reading for it to do a good job.
I have been to the beach on a mini-vacation for three days. Every trip to the beach is far too short. If you are able to spend a week or more at the coast during the off-season, I truly recommend it. Nothing compares to the stormy sea and the wind-tossed galleon-like clouds sailing above it.
I also have seen the third installment of The Lord of the Rings movie, and I must say that I really enjoyed it. In a way, it is a shame that the trilogy is over, but with the smashing monetary success this thing has had at the box-office, it won't take a genius to predict more sword and sorcery movies will be showing up in theatres in the coming year or two. Let's hope these new movies are more like The Lord of the Rings, and less like Legend or that Val Kilmer movie, Willow, entertaining as they are in their own way.
Life explorations of a middle-aged man searching through the meanings and expectations of what could have been and what still might be.
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Sunday, December 14, 2003
The Restaurant
Today, I was incredibly unproductive. Instead of grading exams like I should have done, or doing the laundry that has been persistently and silently building up in the hallway--a monument to soiled clothing--I spent most of the day watching television and surfing the internet. Most of what was on television wasn't any good, and when I think about the other things I could have done to waste time besides watching the tube--like read a good book, catch up on extra sleep, or even getting out of the house to watch a movie--I sink further into murky swamps of regret. Yet, there's still time to get all of the exams graded by tomorrow, so I'm not terribly worried.
I've been thinking about the last few weeks of grad. school. After the last day of one of my grad. school classes, a student whom I'll call Martha arranged a get-together at one of the local Italian restaurants--a small place with a nice atmosphere, but also obviously trying way too hard to be chic at the same time; it was a little overpriced for what it was. (You can dress a college kid up as a fancy French waiter and make him look like he has all the class in the world, but he is just a college kid after all, and in the presence of other college students like ourselves, he will easily slip into discussions about Spongebob Squarepants and college football.)
To digress for the moment, Martha is the other T.A. for the same ENG104 class that I T.A. for as well. We shared the T.A. workload over the course of the term. Although I envy Martha for her restless energy, it's an energy that she once revealed causes trouble for her. She's one of those women who are always doing three things at once, who always volunteers for too many projects, and cannot say no to people. Consequently, she suffers the physical result of such academic and social super-heroism in anxiety and unexplained night panics. She says that people often praise her for what is, essentially, her inability to relax and take it easy.
I was the first person to arrive at the restaurant, even though, by my watch, I was only five minutes early. I thought Martha would have already been there acting as host. Thus, I identify myself 'Nerd' for displaying typical nerd behavior--I showed up first. However, I apparently wasn't the only to arrive early. Only a minute after I walked through the door, someone else from the class arrived, let's say her name is Michelle. I suspect that Michelle was waiting in her car and must have seen me walk in, inwardly laughing at me for being the Nerd who didn't think to wait in the car like she did. Martha and her husband showed up just a few minutes later, and everyone else drifted in over the next twenty minutes and found their way to our table in a dim corner.
Overall, the dinner was nice and the conversation was okay. People mostly talked about their plans for the winter break; I am practically the only person not leaving the state to visit family. Yet, the part that has been bugging me ever since that night was the feeling like I did not fit in 100%. These students are a diverse group except in one regard--they all come from upper-middle-class backgrounds and have parents with advanced degrees. My background is consistently blue collar, and has been for several generations. Books learning was something to be suspicious of. (My grandfather likes to tell the story about how he quit the ninth grade because he did not want to do a book report. He never returned to school and joined the army instead.) Consequently, I did not have many ways to relate to my fellow students, except to ask if their papers were done, and how the weather was going to be where they were traveling. As you can see, we had scintillating conversation over over-priced spaghetti. (Please note the irony in the previous sentence.) It seemed most people were trying to vie for Martha's attention, or participate in the slightly bawdy conversation at the other end of the table. Whenever the woman directly across from me tried to engage me in conversation, I had the sense she was searching desperately for ways to force a topic of discussion. It seemed I wasn't an interesting enough person to talk to as much as I was a rather boring, slightly challenging, assignment.
I'm not sure why all of this has been pressing in my mind lately, except that I know it has something to do with my feelings toward grad. school. Everything is all jumbled together and I don't know what the connection is. Of course, I also don't want to overthink it either. Without delving too deep, I suspect that it has a bit to with competition. Directly confronted with fellow students having a good time at dinner, who have all the assignments completed, and who, while claiming to have had serious trouble with their assignments during different parts of the term, seem to have it together--the same way sports teams talk about a minor slip-up in the championship game they've won by a landslide.
This may be my last post for a week or more. I'm going on my winter vacation to the coast, where I hope to relax and prepare for the upcoming term. Even though it is cliche to say so, I'll be a little wiser and will have a better idea about what is involved to do well. God willing, it will be a great new start.
Today, I was incredibly unproductive. Instead of grading exams like I should have done, or doing the laundry that has been persistently and silently building up in the hallway--a monument to soiled clothing--I spent most of the day watching television and surfing the internet. Most of what was on television wasn't any good, and when I think about the other things I could have done to waste time besides watching the tube--like read a good book, catch up on extra sleep, or even getting out of the house to watch a movie--I sink further into murky swamps of regret. Yet, there's still time to get all of the exams graded by tomorrow, so I'm not terribly worried.
I've been thinking about the last few weeks of grad. school. After the last day of one of my grad. school classes, a student whom I'll call Martha arranged a get-together at one of the local Italian restaurants--a small place with a nice atmosphere, but also obviously trying way too hard to be chic at the same time; it was a little overpriced for what it was. (You can dress a college kid up as a fancy French waiter and make him look like he has all the class in the world, but he is just a college kid after all, and in the presence of other college students like ourselves, he will easily slip into discussions about Spongebob Squarepants and college football.)
To digress for the moment, Martha is the other T.A. for the same ENG104 class that I T.A. for as well. We shared the T.A. workload over the course of the term. Although I envy Martha for her restless energy, it's an energy that she once revealed causes trouble for her. She's one of those women who are always doing three things at once, who always volunteers for too many projects, and cannot say no to people. Consequently, she suffers the physical result of such academic and social super-heroism in anxiety and unexplained night panics. She says that people often praise her for what is, essentially, her inability to relax and take it easy.
I was the first person to arrive at the restaurant, even though, by my watch, I was only five minutes early. I thought Martha would have already been there acting as host. Thus, I identify myself 'Nerd' for displaying typical nerd behavior--I showed up first. However, I apparently wasn't the only to arrive early. Only a minute after I walked through the door, someone else from the class arrived, let's say her name is Michelle. I suspect that Michelle was waiting in her car and must have seen me walk in, inwardly laughing at me for being the Nerd who didn't think to wait in the car like she did. Martha and her husband showed up just a few minutes later, and everyone else drifted in over the next twenty minutes and found their way to our table in a dim corner.
Overall, the dinner was nice and the conversation was okay. People mostly talked about their plans for the winter break; I am practically the only person not leaving the state to visit family. Yet, the part that has been bugging me ever since that night was the feeling like I did not fit in 100%. These students are a diverse group except in one regard--they all come from upper-middle-class backgrounds and have parents with advanced degrees. My background is consistently blue collar, and has been for several generations. Books learning was something to be suspicious of. (My grandfather likes to tell the story about how he quit the ninth grade because he did not want to do a book report. He never returned to school and joined the army instead.) Consequently, I did not have many ways to relate to my fellow students, except to ask if their papers were done, and how the weather was going to be where they were traveling. As you can see, we had scintillating conversation over over-priced spaghetti. (Please note the irony in the previous sentence.) It seemed most people were trying to vie for Martha's attention, or participate in the slightly bawdy conversation at the other end of the table. Whenever the woman directly across from me tried to engage me in conversation, I had the sense she was searching desperately for ways to force a topic of discussion. It seemed I wasn't an interesting enough person to talk to as much as I was a rather boring, slightly challenging, assignment.
I'm not sure why all of this has been pressing in my mind lately, except that I know it has something to do with my feelings toward grad. school. Everything is all jumbled together and I don't know what the connection is. Of course, I also don't want to overthink it either. Without delving too deep, I suspect that it has a bit to with competition. Directly confronted with fellow students having a good time at dinner, who have all the assignments completed, and who, while claiming to have had serious trouble with their assignments during different parts of the term, seem to have it together--the same way sports teams talk about a minor slip-up in the championship game they've won by a landslide.
This may be my last post for a week or more. I'm going on my winter vacation to the coast, where I hope to relax and prepare for the upcoming term. Even though it is cliche to say so, I'll be a little wiser and will have a better idea about what is involved to do well. God willing, it will be a great new start.
Friday, December 12, 2003
The Almost-Last Day
Today is the last official day of the term. The campus has largely emptied of students and faculty, and now is largely haunted by janitorial staff, student workers at the library trying not be bored, and more than a few overworked grad. students haggardly trudging through the darkened hallways of buildings that are the seat of their variously chosen fields. As I am the T.A. for an ENG104 class, I still have about twenty more exams to grade by Monday; Tuesday is the last day for the professor to submit grades. Thus, tomorrow morning, I will be making the trip back to the campus and my office to get them done. My office, a depressing yet workable space suffused with fluorescent light, is less depressing in the morning when there is more natural light. Also, as none of the other four people I share it will be working that day, I'll have it all to myself.
In a desperate frenzy of work (lamentably uncompleted), I have been able lucky enough to have a laptop checked out to me steadily for three days. Three days! Mind you, this is no small feat as one is allowed to check a laptop out only in four hour increments. Thus, I have been at the library checkout desk requesting to extend my time at least four times a day during the second half of the week, the last request for each day being an overnight checkout.
I'm dearly hoping that I'll be able to work out something over the winter break that will allow me to purchase a computer. Even if I lived on rice cakes for the rest of the year, sold my blood every day, and scrounged through all the cushions from all the couches I ever sat on for loose change, I still wouldn't have the money. My only hope is a financial aid program, which more and more seems like a tenuous gamble on my future, the bet being a PhD and a good job against a huge debt that is accumulating as I write these very words. After an essentially demoralizing term, this bet is seeming less like a sure thing.
Beside completing all of the unfinished work that I have to do over the break, I'm intending to spend a lot of time reflecting on what I can do differently to make the next term go much more smoothly. Obviously, the first lesson I learned the hard way is to start much more earlier on the term papers than I did. But, I'm sure there are other lessons that aren't as obvious and are going to take some exploration. Basically, I'm sure it all boils down to learning how to mush! A friend told me that what everyone should understand about grad. school is that on your first day, you're already four weeks behind. He's not kidding.
Today is the last official day of the term. The campus has largely emptied of students and faculty, and now is largely haunted by janitorial staff, student workers at the library trying not be bored, and more than a few overworked grad. students haggardly trudging through the darkened hallways of buildings that are the seat of their variously chosen fields. As I am the T.A. for an ENG104 class, I still have about twenty more exams to grade by Monday; Tuesday is the last day for the professor to submit grades. Thus, tomorrow morning, I will be making the trip back to the campus and my office to get them done. My office, a depressing yet workable space suffused with fluorescent light, is less depressing in the morning when there is more natural light. Also, as none of the other four people I share it will be working that day, I'll have it all to myself.
In a desperate frenzy of work (lamentably uncompleted), I have been able lucky enough to have a laptop checked out to me steadily for three days. Three days! Mind you, this is no small feat as one is allowed to check a laptop out only in four hour increments. Thus, I have been at the library checkout desk requesting to extend my time at least four times a day during the second half of the week, the last request for each day being an overnight checkout.
I'm dearly hoping that I'll be able to work out something over the winter break that will allow me to purchase a computer. Even if I lived on rice cakes for the rest of the year, sold my blood every day, and scrounged through all the cushions from all the couches I ever sat on for loose change, I still wouldn't have the money. My only hope is a financial aid program, which more and more seems like a tenuous gamble on my future, the bet being a PhD and a good job against a huge debt that is accumulating as I write these very words. After an essentially demoralizing term, this bet is seeming less like a sure thing.
Beside completing all of the unfinished work that I have to do over the break, I'm intending to spend a lot of time reflecting on what I can do differently to make the next term go much more smoothly. Obviously, the first lesson I learned the hard way is to start much more earlier on the term papers than I did. But, I'm sure there are other lessons that aren't as obvious and are going to take some exploration. Basically, I'm sure it all boils down to learning how to mush! A friend told me that what everyone should understand about grad. school is that on your first day, you're already four weeks behind. He's not kidding.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
The Winds of Obsolescence
Most of the computers that I have been using on campus do not have a floppy drive, something that presents a real problem when I need to save my work for another day. In the past, I've e-mailed my assignments to myself through the internet, using internet mail as free storage device. Normally, this technique works pretty well, except I have to spend about five to ten minutes formatting my paper as the email systems not only take out bold, italics, and indentations, but do not even pretend to consider such things like margins or font. When you're an English major and are required to use strict MLA formatting, these picky things become important. While I may not remember the finer points of Husserl's concepts of phenomenology as it relates to criticism, I will always remember basic MLA formatting right until the day I, euphemistically speaking, slip from this mortal coil.
Consequently, I bought myself a jump drive aka flash drive, aka thumb drive, aka usb drive for forty bucks. Probably not a bargain, but a full twenty dollars cheaper than the college bookstore. When initially shopping around for a solution to my storage problem, I was confused by the constellation of names this thing had. (New technology has always had a problem with names, I suppose. Apparently, as a result of the invention of the telegraph and telegram, it was popular to refer to your autograph as an autogram. Not quite the same problem, but close enough to demonstrate the potential for confusion.) I call it a jump drive, as that is what it calls itself when it is plugged into a computer. Not wanting to be insensitive to my drive's preferences, I stick with jump drive.
Actually, I've had the drive for a couple of weeks now, but because my home computer is lamentably obsolete, I wasn't able to use it properly until today. Now, I have a sense of freedom that comes with the knowledge that I will not be subject to an internet connection for the retrieval of my papers. I know this is not a major milestone for most people, yet I humbly give thanks to all that is holy for this small grace proffered by the wizards of technology.
Most of the computers that I have been using on campus do not have a floppy drive, something that presents a real problem when I need to save my work for another day. In the past, I've e-mailed my assignments to myself through the internet, using internet mail as free storage device. Normally, this technique works pretty well, except I have to spend about five to ten minutes formatting my paper as the email systems not only take out bold, italics, and indentations, but do not even pretend to consider such things like margins or font. When you're an English major and are required to use strict MLA formatting, these picky things become important. While I may not remember the finer points of Husserl's concepts of phenomenology as it relates to criticism, I will always remember basic MLA formatting right until the day I, euphemistically speaking, slip from this mortal coil.
Consequently, I bought myself a jump drive aka flash drive, aka thumb drive, aka usb drive for forty bucks. Probably not a bargain, but a full twenty dollars cheaper than the college bookstore. When initially shopping around for a solution to my storage problem, I was confused by the constellation of names this thing had. (New technology has always had a problem with names, I suppose. Apparently, as a result of the invention of the telegraph and telegram, it was popular to refer to your autograph as an autogram. Not quite the same problem, but close enough to demonstrate the potential for confusion.) I call it a jump drive, as that is what it calls itself when it is plugged into a computer. Not wanting to be insensitive to my drive's preferences, I stick with jump drive.
Actually, I've had the drive for a couple of weeks now, but because my home computer is lamentably obsolete, I wasn't able to use it properly until today. Now, I have a sense of freedom that comes with the knowledge that I will not be subject to an internet connection for the retrieval of my papers. I know this is not a major milestone for most people, yet I humbly give thanks to all that is holy for this small grace proffered by the wizards of technology.
Monday, December 08, 2003
School and the Beach
After my last post, this one will probably seem anti-climatic. Suffice it to say, while I've not completely conquered all of the problems that currently beset me, I'm in much better shape than I was. I have until the end of the week to finish a paper that has been dogging me for far too long. I've got a decent start on it, so if I can finish it and earn a good grade--and I've been pleading with everything holy that I can--then I will have survived my first term of graduate school. One of the things that has been relatively easy to do has been reading How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents by Julia Alvarez for the ENG104 class that I'm a teaching assistant for. It's nice not to worry (or read) about high literary theory for awhile and just enjoy something good to read.
Yet, despite the implication given from my last few blogs, I do have a life outside of school. And, no, I'm not talking about the too much television I've watched over the last two weeks. I'm planning to go to the beach over the winter break. I love visiting the beach during the off season when everything is gray and raining. There are hardly ever any people around this time of year, except when it gets a little closer to Christmas. For some reason, a select group of people love to celebrate the holiday at the coast. As for myself, I'm going to enjoy the atmosphere and the rest. I plan to make a couple of fires right on the beach, and maybe I'll even try to hike a little.
After my last post, this one will probably seem anti-climatic. Suffice it to say, while I've not completely conquered all of the problems that currently beset me, I'm in much better shape than I was. I have until the end of the week to finish a paper that has been dogging me for far too long. I've got a decent start on it, so if I can finish it and earn a good grade--and I've been pleading with everything holy that I can--then I will have survived my first term of graduate school. One of the things that has been relatively easy to do has been reading How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents by Julia Alvarez for the ENG104 class that I'm a teaching assistant for. It's nice not to worry (or read) about high literary theory for awhile and just enjoy something good to read.
Yet, despite the implication given from my last few blogs, I do have a life outside of school. And, no, I'm not talking about the too much television I've watched over the last two weeks. I'm planning to go to the beach over the winter break. I love visiting the beach during the off season when everything is gray and raining. There are hardly ever any people around this time of year, except when it gets a little closer to Christmas. For some reason, a select group of people love to celebrate the holiday at the coast. As for myself, I'm going to enjoy the atmosphere and the rest. I plan to make a couple of fires right on the beach, and maybe I'll even try to hike a little.
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Weeks of Change
I imagine that one day I will look back on this period of my life and recognize it as one of the handful times, less than five or six, where the decisions I have made have significantly shaped my future. I'n twenty five years or so, I'm sure I will have forgotten about this blog, I will not remember my address at the apartment where I currently live, but I will remember these last few weeks as one of my lowest ebbs, the consequences of which will last for a long time.
I apologize if this sounds a little dramatic; it's not meant to be. It's my way of verbalizing a recognition I've been slowing coming to for the last couple of weeks. I'm sure that I'll overcome these present difficulties eventually. The next two weeks will be pivotal.
I imagine that one day I will look back on this period of my life and recognize it as one of the handful times, less than five or six, where the decisions I have made have significantly shaped my future. I'n twenty five years or so, I'm sure I will have forgotten about this blog, I will not remember my address at the apartment where I currently live, but I will remember these last few weeks as one of my lowest ebbs, the consequences of which will last for a long time.
I apologize if this sounds a little dramatic; it's not meant to be. It's my way of verbalizing a recognition I've been slowing coming to for the last couple of weeks. I'm sure that I'll overcome these present difficulties eventually. The next two weeks will be pivotal.
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