Awards
After spending several weeks fretting about whether or not I would have the money to attend college, I just found out today that I should have sent a reply on my financial aid award letter to my graduate school about a week ago. I missed the deadline, and they reserve the right to cancel all of the awards that do. I'm hoping that they're not going to cancel, and I'm fairly confident that they won't because I'm just receiving loans, but we'll see.
Yet, on a better note, at work I found out how to disable the messenger program on Internet Explorer. Whenever anyone here would log on to the net, they would recieve several gray text messages from the "messenger service" that were essentially tyring to blackmail the user into buying their pop-up killer. Make no mistake pop-ups and the people who use them are, in my admittedly flawed estimation, pure evil. But the guys behind these messages are worse than that.
Of course, the FREE solution - something that took me about an hour and a half to discover - is to disable it from the control panel. The audacity and offensiveness of these types of pop-ups is amazing. Thankfully, they're gone, and now the only pop-ups I have to endure are the ones I encounter when surfing the Internet. And those I don't mind, because if I find them particularly annoying (which, frankly, is a term that doesn't really capture the negative emotions inspired by pop-ups), I simply stop visiting whatever site it spawned from. Freedom from pop-ups should be the unalienable right of every computer user; I look forward to the day when that goal is acheived.
Life explorations of a middle-aged man searching through the meanings and expectations of what could have been and what still might be.
Monday, June 30, 2003
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Updates
I'm firmly ensconced in my new job for the summer - although the pay is dismal, and I'm dangeorulsy flirting with the reality of not having any money to pay for anything beyond rent and car insurance. I'm hoping I can slide until the middle of september on the scant savings I have left and make the most of free meals without trying to be the next Freddie the Freeloader.
As for the summer job, I should mention that it is the exact same one that I had last summer, and - by way of explanation - it was during that previous summer that I set-up the managerial system and structure for operating its small web store division. Now, I don't really have to have any great reserves of web knowledge or expertise, which is fortunate, because I truly know next-to-nothing. However, I do seem to know more than the remaining employees, so that has made me the defacto expert. An example, you may ask? Well, last year I registered the virus protection software and faithfully installed the updates almost every other day. Turns out, no-one ever updated the software after I left - a year ago . A whole year! That there has not been an infection or system crash during the interim I take as a sign that miracles do, in fact, exist
I'm firmly ensconced in my new job for the summer - although the pay is dismal, and I'm dangeorulsy flirting with the reality of not having any money to pay for anything beyond rent and car insurance. I'm hoping I can slide until the middle of september on the scant savings I have left and make the most of free meals without trying to be the next Freddie the Freeloader.
As for the summer job, I should mention that it is the exact same one that I had last summer, and - by way of explanation - it was during that previous summer that I set-up the managerial system and structure for operating its small web store division. Now, I don't really have to have any great reserves of web knowledge or expertise, which is fortunate, because I truly know next-to-nothing. However, I do seem to know more than the remaining employees, so that has made me the defacto expert. An example, you may ask? Well, last year I registered the virus protection software and faithfully installed the updates almost every other day. Turns out, no-one ever updated the software after I left - a year ago . A whole year! That there has not been an infection or system crash during the interim I take as a sign that miracles do, in fact, exist
Saturday, June 28, 2003
Summer Vacation
Well, I'm back; I've spent the last several days on an extended vacation. Graduation has happened, and I actually lived through it. And yes, it was extremely boring - except for a breif moment when a couple of eagles flew overhead during one of the speeches; I must admit eagles are pretty cool. Now I really need to finish up all of the random forms and applications to graduate school; I only have a few more days left to reply to the new school that I'm going to accept the Teaching assistantship position. I could explain more about my trip to the coast, the beaches and the campground. However, right now I've got to get started on my summer job and earning some payola.
Well, I'm back; I've spent the last several days on an extended vacation. Graduation has happened, and I actually lived through it. And yes, it was extremely boring - except for a breif moment when a couple of eagles flew overhead during one of the speeches; I must admit eagles are pretty cool. Now I really need to finish up all of the random forms and applications to graduate school; I only have a few more days left to reply to the new school that I'm going to accept the Teaching assistantship position. I could explain more about my trip to the coast, the beaches and the campground. However, right now I've got to get started on my summer job and earning some payola.
Friday, June 13, 2003
The Final
While certainly not my best work, I've managed to complete all of the homework that I have had hanging over me this past week; I almost can't believe I got it done. On another note, it is somewhat sobering to realize that this is my last official day of school as an undergraduate, the last day to go to class, the last day to work in the library, the last day with a lot of people I spent the past two and half years with. (Although I'm still planning to do thank you notes.) Tomorrow is graduation, and by way of underlining that fact this morning on my way to study, a group of four men - obviously related - asked me to take their picture in front of the large garden sign of our school, as a way to commerorate someone's time here. Posts might be sparse over the next few weeks as I adjust to a summer schedule divided between a summer job and the big city. (My girlfriend is looking forward to our spending time together, and so am I.)
While certainly not my best work, I've managed to complete all of the homework that I have had hanging over me this past week; I almost can't believe I got it done. On another note, it is somewhat sobering to realize that this is my last official day of school as an undergraduate, the last day to go to class, the last day to work in the library, the last day with a lot of people I spent the past two and half years with. (Although I'm still planning to do thank you notes.) Tomorrow is graduation, and by way of underlining that fact this morning on my way to study, a group of four men - obviously related - asked me to take their picture in front of the large garden sign of our school, as a way to commerorate someone's time here. Posts might be sparse over the next few weeks as I adjust to a summer schedule divided between a summer job and the big city. (My girlfriend is looking forward to our spending time together, and so am I.)
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Quick Update
I just learned that the graduate school I am planning on attending in the fall has offered me a teaching assistantship after all. While it doesn't cover all of the expenses that I'll incur going to school, it will take a huge chunk out of it. Of course, although I'm excited that I've pulled off a minor coup, I'm worried if I'll be able to cut the mustard. I guess we'll see. In the mean time, I have exactly one day to finish all of my school work before the final at noon tomorrow. Due to the amount of work that I still have to do, the deadline is beginning to seem like an old western showdown - high noon, and then when the dust settles, we'll see who's left standing. (I'm betting it won't be me.)
I just learned that the graduate school I am planning on attending in the fall has offered me a teaching assistantship after all. While it doesn't cover all of the expenses that I'll incur going to school, it will take a huge chunk out of it. Of course, although I'm excited that I've pulled off a minor coup, I'm worried if I'll be able to cut the mustard. I guess we'll see. In the mean time, I have exactly one day to finish all of my school work before the final at noon tomorrow. Due to the amount of work that I still have to do, the deadline is beginning to seem like an old western showdown - high noon, and then when the dust settles, we'll see who's left standing. (I'm betting it won't be me.)
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
The Remaining Days
These are the last few days that I'll actually be in this particular cellar, the dark, slightly dank, hidden corner of the ol' computer lab in the university's technology center. After Saturday, when the official graduation ceremony occurs, I'll have to find a new cellar to post from over the summer until I get to grad. school in the fall. It shouldn't be too hard, but I confess that the final few days have become a little nostaligic for me. Here is where you insert all of the typical cliches about how I'm glad to be graduating, but sad that it is all over - blah, blah, blah. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even go to graduation because sitting around listening to boring speeches with about two hundred other people is not my idea of fun, but my girlfriend is coming from the big city to see it, and my parents want to make this a big deal, so I'm going.
But in the mean time, I have to finish my finals, which, since they are mostly take home, I have procrastinated so long that I'm now behind. I've got to friday at noon; that's D-day for me. Last term around finals, I started this blog to avoid doing any real work until the last minute. I'm hoping that I don't go that far, but unless I really get started now, I'm sure I'll find even more creative ways to lose track of time.
These are the last few days that I'll actually be in this particular cellar, the dark, slightly dank, hidden corner of the ol' computer lab in the university's technology center. After Saturday, when the official graduation ceremony occurs, I'll have to find a new cellar to post from over the summer until I get to grad. school in the fall. It shouldn't be too hard, but I confess that the final few days have become a little nostaligic for me. Here is where you insert all of the typical cliches about how I'm glad to be graduating, but sad that it is all over - blah, blah, blah. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even go to graduation because sitting around listening to boring speeches with about two hundred other people is not my idea of fun, but my girlfriend is coming from the big city to see it, and my parents want to make this a big deal, so I'm going.
But in the mean time, I have to finish my finals, which, since they are mostly take home, I have procrastinated so long that I'm now behind. I've got to friday at noon; that's D-day for me. Last term around finals, I started this blog to avoid doing any real work until the last minute. I'm hoping that I don't go that far, but unless I really get started now, I'm sure I'll find even more creative ways to lose track of time.
Monday, June 09, 2003
Concerts
Yesterday night, I took my girlfriend to a Tracy Chapman concert, which was really good and a lot of fun, but when we got there, another couple was already sitting in our seats: row U, number 12 and 13. An usher, about fortyish with a medium length ponytail wearing a wine colored sports coat, quickly stumbled over to us through the purplish-blue dark and examined the tickets; they were exactly the same. (Flash back to a month and a half ago when I bought them - the clerk behind the counter, a young man still struggling with the subtle mysteries of technology, screwed up the tickets three times trying to get them to print out of the machine.) Fortunately, after missing about the first ten minutes of the opening act which wasn't all that great, we got the seats I paid for, and the couple who we "evicted" were moved further to the center, ten rows closer to the stage. I wish we had the option of getting closer to the stage but that's life I guess.
After the concert, we went the city park blocks and talked to an old friend who we both haven't seen in about a year. We sat on a park bench, and as the small hours of the morning burned away, I watched the moon glide through some of the leaves of a smaller tree. Of course, I was really tired, so we went home around 3:00 a.m. Overall, a good day.
Yesterday night, I took my girlfriend to a Tracy Chapman concert, which was really good and a lot of fun, but when we got there, another couple was already sitting in our seats: row U, number 12 and 13. An usher, about fortyish with a medium length ponytail wearing a wine colored sports coat, quickly stumbled over to us through the purplish-blue dark and examined the tickets; they were exactly the same. (Flash back to a month and a half ago when I bought them - the clerk behind the counter, a young man still struggling with the subtle mysteries of technology, screwed up the tickets three times trying to get them to print out of the machine.) Fortunately, after missing about the first ten minutes of the opening act which wasn't all that great, we got the seats I paid for, and the couple who we "evicted" were moved further to the center, ten rows closer to the stage. I wish we had the option of getting closer to the stage but that's life I guess.
After the concert, we went the city park blocks and talked to an old friend who we both haven't seen in about a year. We sat on a park bench, and as the small hours of the morning burned away, I watched the moon glide through some of the leaves of a smaller tree. Of course, I was really tired, so we went home around 3:00 a.m. Overall, a good day.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Almost Completed
Of the three papers that I needed to write in as many days, I'm finally glad to say that I finished one of them, and second is about 85% done. Now, I'm off to get some food and try to rest the brain as much as I can for about an hour. Unfortunately, I stayed up all night last night, getting only about an hour and a half of sleep, so it might be a losing propostion, and if I don't keep up the pace, I may have to do that again tonight. However, I think I'm in pretty good shape; although I do have finals to study for and other assignments to complete by Friday afternoon. Those things do not stress me out as much as the papers have. Once again, I need to stop waiting until the last blah blah blah. You know the rest.
Of the three papers that I needed to write in as many days, I'm finally glad to say that I finished one of them, and second is about 85% done. Now, I'm off to get some food and try to rest the brain as much as I can for about an hour. Unfortunately, I stayed up all night last night, getting only about an hour and a half of sleep, so it might be a losing propostion, and if I don't keep up the pace, I may have to do that again tonight. However, I think I'm in pretty good shape; although I do have finals to study for and other assignments to complete by Friday afternoon. Those things do not stress me out as much as the papers have. Once again, I need to stop waiting until the last blah blah blah. You know the rest.
Writing in the Laundry Room
Trying to kill two birds with one stone, I went to the local laundry mat to get some badly needed clothing washed while getting some incredibly postponed homework done, when a man - about twenty years older than my father and, who I suspect, has a mild mental impairment - asked me to fix his pen. He couldn't get the end of it removed so he could access the ink cartridges. Soon, I found myself not doing my own homework, but rather helping him write a love letter to his girlfriend. He asked me how to spell "lifetime partner," if the second line sounded right, and whether or not I thought the ending appropriate. Because I spend three days each week working in the college writing center, I initally took his requests a little too seriously until I realized that he was lonely and was actually looking for a stranger's approval, in this case mine.
It was all rather odd, but I began to feel a little guilty because I have never written my own girlfriend a love letter; It also occured to me that writing a good love letter took some practice and that this guy obviously had more practice than I did. I suppose that love letters belong in their own genre, and speaking "literarily," it might be good to read a compilation of them. Griffin and Sabine has been a popular book in recent years that fictionally explores the art of writing of love letters. Personally I've avoided reading it because I feared a heavy dose of schmaltz, but maybe I should finally take a look.
Trying to kill two birds with one stone, I went to the local laundry mat to get some badly needed clothing washed while getting some incredibly postponed homework done, when a man - about twenty years older than my father and, who I suspect, has a mild mental impairment - asked me to fix his pen. He couldn't get the end of it removed so he could access the ink cartridges. Soon, I found myself not doing my own homework, but rather helping him write a love letter to his girlfriend. He asked me how to spell "lifetime partner," if the second line sounded right, and whether or not I thought the ending appropriate. Because I spend three days each week working in the college writing center, I initally took his requests a little too seriously until I realized that he was lonely and was actually looking for a stranger's approval, in this case mine.
It was all rather odd, but I began to feel a little guilty because I have never written my own girlfriend a love letter; It also occured to me that writing a good love letter took some practice and that this guy obviously had more practice than I did. I suppose that love letters belong in their own genre, and speaking "literarily," it might be good to read a compilation of them. Griffin and Sabine has been a popular book in recent years that fictionally explores the art of writing of love letters. Personally I've avoided reading it because I feared a heavy dose of schmaltz, but maybe I should finally take a look.
Monday, June 02, 2003
Sunlight and Diet Coke
Here we go - I'm going to have to burrow further into my cellar here and not emerge until I have completed at least three papers, one for each of the next three days. It is a theme (no pun intended) with me that I typically wait until the last minute to write my papers, and although I sincerely had good intentions this term, too much of actual life (read difficulties) has gotten in the way and set me back a little. I'll not bore anyone here with the lurid details, suffice it to to say that once I emerge from the darkened corner of the computer lab to joyfully embrace the clear sunlight of the elysian like days of summer beyond graduation, I'm sure that things will be better.
Things of note recently: my lingusitics professor, who has returned to work after surgery (and incidentally who is also my advisor), seems to still be recuperating. Perhaps it was because I knew that she wasn't feeling well that I consciously noticed that she always drinks a diet coke midway through her lecture. Usually, I'm too involved in the topics under discussion to pay any attention to that sort of thing, but maybe like the friend who buys something frivolously expensive and also owes you money, I noticed this time because a diet coke doesn't seem to me to be the kind of thing you should drink a few days after surgery. Another item: an older man, a student I admire, complimented me on my paper presentation at Friday's award ceremony saying: "I always wanted to know if that guy could write." Being a little paranoid, I thought the statement was odd and began to wonder what type of impression I give other people to make them thing that don't have the ability to write well. Finally, I suppose it is something approaching mandatory for me to mention that my graduation from college is less than two weeks away. If I wasn't currently struggling with the papers I have to write and an allergen assault on my respiratory system, I'd be happier about it.
Here we go - I'm going to have to burrow further into my cellar here and not emerge until I have completed at least three papers, one for each of the next three days. It is a theme (no pun intended) with me that I typically wait until the last minute to write my papers, and although I sincerely had good intentions this term, too much of actual life (read difficulties) has gotten in the way and set me back a little. I'll not bore anyone here with the lurid details, suffice it to to say that once I emerge from the darkened corner of the computer lab to joyfully embrace the clear sunlight of the elysian like days of summer beyond graduation, I'm sure that things will be better.
Things of note recently: my lingusitics professor, who has returned to work after surgery (and incidentally who is also my advisor), seems to still be recuperating. Perhaps it was because I knew that she wasn't feeling well that I consciously noticed that she always drinks a diet coke midway through her lecture. Usually, I'm too involved in the topics under discussion to pay any attention to that sort of thing, but maybe like the friend who buys something frivolously expensive and also owes you money, I noticed this time because a diet coke doesn't seem to me to be the kind of thing you should drink a few days after surgery. Another item: an older man, a student I admire, complimented me on my paper presentation at Friday's award ceremony saying: "I always wanted to know if that guy could write." Being a little paranoid, I thought the statement was odd and began to wonder what type of impression I give other people to make them thing that don't have the ability to write well. Finally, I suppose it is something approaching mandatory for me to mention that my graduation from college is less than two weeks away. If I wasn't currently struggling with the papers I have to write and an allergen assault on my respiratory system, I'd be happier about it.
Friday, May 30, 2003
A Check
Defying expectations, when I arrived to present my paper at the Phi Kappa Phi ceremony today, the man behind the prize contest for which I recieved second place changed his mind and decided to award me a little cash as well, which I think was pretty darn cool; I'll now have to remember to write him an official thank you for your generosity card/letter. Aside from that, I have to admit that the paper that won the whole shabang, and five hundred bucks was actually pretty well written, and as such, works an object lesson for me in that I need to remember not to wait until the last minute to write my papers. The first place award winner even indicated in her presentation that she practically spent half the previous term writing her paper, whereas I waited until the last week to even start. This blog was started as a partial attempt on my part to alleviate some of the stress that I felt during that week trying to write a good, prize winning, 12 page paper in a matter of days. Despite everything, I still think that second place is not that bad.
Still, all of this brings to mind the famous movie, A Christmas Story, because the father - a somewhat luckless and frustrated man who is known for his outbursts of cursing - recieves a "major award" from a radio contest, something that he obviously loves tremendously because of its association as a "major award," but which is so hideous to everyone else that his wife "accidentally" breaks it while cleaning. Of course, he returns to earth in his normal more distraught condition. But as for myself, I can't help thinking about the "major award" whenever I start to feel a little pride in my accomplishment, because on some level, I fear I may instead be acting foolish.
Defying expectations, when I arrived to present my paper at the Phi Kappa Phi ceremony today, the man behind the prize contest for which I recieved second place changed his mind and decided to award me a little cash as well, which I think was pretty darn cool; I'll now have to remember to write him an official thank you for your generosity card/letter. Aside from that, I have to admit that the paper that won the whole shabang, and five hundred bucks was actually pretty well written, and as such, works an object lesson for me in that I need to remember not to wait until the last minute to write my papers. The first place award winner even indicated in her presentation that she practically spent half the previous term writing her paper, whereas I waited until the last week to even start. This blog was started as a partial attempt on my part to alleviate some of the stress that I felt during that week trying to write a good, prize winning, 12 page paper in a matter of days. Despite everything, I still think that second place is not that bad.
Still, all of this brings to mind the famous movie, A Christmas Story, because the father - a somewhat luckless and frustrated man who is known for his outbursts of cursing - recieves a "major award" from a radio contest, something that he obviously loves tremendously because of its association as a "major award," but which is so hideous to everyone else that his wife "accidentally" breaks it while cleaning. Of course, he returns to earth in his normal more distraught condition. But as for myself, I can't help thinking about the "major award" whenever I start to feel a little pride in my accomplishment, because on some level, I fear I may instead be acting foolish.
Thursday, May 29, 2003
Work
Immersed in an ocean of lassitude, with gentle waves rocking me in the warm tides of nothingness, I've let the currents of time slip past me without doing anything worth while. I think that stress has built up for so long that - among the many, many things that demand my energy and attention - I got an illness that should resolved already, I overslept and missed work yesterday, I forgot to turn in form that I should have turned in days ago, and I haven't paid any bills; now I'm flooded with work, tasks, and chores, but thanks to the unforseen, and slightly unwelcome, shut down of my body and soul, I think I'm better prepared to finish everything I've left undone.
As for Tuesday night, the award ceremony was a world class snore-a-thon that wasn't worth the time I spent there. Many of the individual departments elected to recognize as many as ten students, with each student listening to a two to five minute summary of their accomplishments, as well as the general impressions their professors have of them and their work. Expanded to a hundred and fifty students, and you have a horrifying and infinitely boring preview of our upcoming graduation ceremony. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to read my 2nd place paper in front of my colleagues and professors, which consequently will require some work to summarize and outline. I'm not sure, but I think I'll get a certificate there too. Tonight, if the goblins of my deeply felt lassitude are kept at bay, I'll practice reading it.
Immersed in an ocean of lassitude, with gentle waves rocking me in the warm tides of nothingness, I've let the currents of time slip past me without doing anything worth while. I think that stress has built up for so long that - among the many, many things that demand my energy and attention - I got an illness that should resolved already, I overslept and missed work yesterday, I forgot to turn in form that I should have turned in days ago, and I haven't paid any bills; now I'm flooded with work, tasks, and chores, but thanks to the unforseen, and slightly unwelcome, shut down of my body and soul, I think I'm better prepared to finish everything I've left undone.
As for Tuesday night, the award ceremony was a world class snore-a-thon that wasn't worth the time I spent there. Many of the individual departments elected to recognize as many as ten students, with each student listening to a two to five minute summary of their accomplishments, as well as the general impressions their professors have of them and their work. Expanded to a hundred and fifty students, and you have a horrifying and infinitely boring preview of our upcoming graduation ceremony. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to have to read my 2nd place paper in front of my colleagues and professors, which consequently will require some work to summarize and outline. I'm not sure, but I think I'll get a certificate there too. Tonight, if the goblins of my deeply felt lassitude are kept at bay, I'll practice reading it.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Missing
I'm not too sure that anyone really much cares, but I haven't been posting in awhile, partially because I'm still trying to get over the sick thing and partially because it is getting close to the end of the term, so I have even more papers to write and assignments to finish combined with the regular and constant worrying about graduation. Tonight is the night for major work, as well as the night that I'm supposed to recieve an award for being the outstanding student in Literature. Fortunately, I'm finally finished with my E.M. Forster project, and even though, frankly, the paper is not among my best work, I'm hoping that I can slide through with at least a B- or something; now, I have to complete a rough draft for my linguistic project by tomorrow around 4:00 p.m. As for the award presentation, I suspect that tonight will consist solely of recieving a certificate from one of the professors after sitting around being completely bored for a couple of hours, but I'm not too sure. We'll see.
I'm not too sure that anyone really much cares, but I haven't been posting in awhile, partially because I'm still trying to get over the sick thing and partially because it is getting close to the end of the term, so I have even more papers to write and assignments to finish combined with the regular and constant worrying about graduation. Tonight is the night for major work, as well as the night that I'm supposed to recieve an award for being the outstanding student in Literature. Fortunately, I'm finally finished with my E.M. Forster project, and even though, frankly, the paper is not among my best work, I'm hoping that I can slide through with at least a B- or something; now, I have to complete a rough draft for my linguistic project by tomorrow around 4:00 p.m. As for the award presentation, I suspect that tonight will consist solely of recieving a certificate from one of the professors after sitting around being completely bored for a couple of hours, but I'm not too sure. We'll see.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
The Doctor
Thankfully, I managed to get through my E.M. Forster presentation last night without too much hassle, but I think I gained more points by talking with professor about Forster during the short 5 minute break we got afterward than I did during my in-class presentation. I tried to be super-nerd with my overhead, a mention of critical theory, and the citing of some relatively obscure biographical details about Forster, yet because I felt extremely bad, I don't think I did as well as I could have. And Instead of jumping right back into work when I got home later that night, I watched the PBS series about Vikings from underneath my blanket on the couch, eventually succumbing to the alluring siren calls of sleep.
And although I felt slightly better, I thought I should cover all of my bases and try getting a note from the physician at the student health center to explain to my boss that I'm not skipping work just because I can. Unfortunately, for some reason, the doctor at the clinic - a brusque and irritated man - was apparently frustrated by the large numbers of students who have been sick lately, and perceiving himself overworked, was taking it out on the nurses and the receptionist when I arrived. Doing a bad job of hiding his frustration from the other student-patients by loudly discussing his gripes in the hall, he told them not to schedule any more walk-ins. I, of course, was a walk-in. And, at first, I don't think he believed me. It was only until he heard my cough, listened to my lungs, and noted the blood in my nose (sorry for being graphic) that he decided that I just might - in fact - be sick. Consequently, he gradually softened his rude tone. But if I had a choice, I would never go to him again. Although I know that my privileges mean that I don't suffer the indignities of most, being uninsured stinks.
Thankfully, I managed to get through my E.M. Forster presentation last night without too much hassle, but I think I gained more points by talking with professor about Forster during the short 5 minute break we got afterward than I did during my in-class presentation. I tried to be super-nerd with my overhead, a mention of critical theory, and the citing of some relatively obscure biographical details about Forster, yet because I felt extremely bad, I don't think I did as well as I could have. And Instead of jumping right back into work when I got home later that night, I watched the PBS series about Vikings from underneath my blanket on the couch, eventually succumbing to the alluring siren calls of sleep.
And although I felt slightly better, I thought I should cover all of my bases and try getting a note from the physician at the student health center to explain to my boss that I'm not skipping work just because I can. Unfortunately, for some reason, the doctor at the clinic - a brusque and irritated man - was apparently frustrated by the large numbers of students who have been sick lately, and perceiving himself overworked, was taking it out on the nurses and the receptionist when I arrived. Doing a bad job of hiding his frustration from the other student-patients by loudly discussing his gripes in the hall, he told them not to schedule any more walk-ins. I, of course, was a walk-in. And, at first, I don't think he believed me. It was only until he heard my cough, listened to my lungs, and noted the blood in my nose (sorry for being graphic) that he decided that I just might - in fact - be sick. Consequently, he gradually softened his rude tone. But if I had a choice, I would never go to him again. Although I know that my privileges mean that I don't suffer the indignities of most, being uninsured stinks.
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
Spin Dizzy
I've been sick for the last few days - really, really sick. Although I've tried to spend as much time as possible in bed recuperating as best I can, it hasn't been easy, especially since I still have a ton of homework to do. Fortunately, after class tonight, I will no longer have to worry about my E.M. Forster presentation - but I will have to write a paper about it for the week after, and I have an exam tomorrow morning. It's somewhat amazing how quickly and completely a little physical illness can de-rail you. Largely because of illness, I did not post yesterday, and unfortunately, I can't predict if I be able to post regularly in the next few days; it'll depend on how well I feel. Let me just say: I hate being sick.
I've been sick for the last few days - really, really sick. Although I've tried to spend as much time as possible in bed recuperating as best I can, it hasn't been easy, especially since I still have a ton of homework to do. Fortunately, after class tonight, I will no longer have to worry about my E.M. Forster presentation - but I will have to write a paper about it for the week after, and I have an exam tomorrow morning. It's somewhat amazing how quickly and completely a little physical illness can de-rail you. Largely because of illness, I did not post yesterday, and unfortunately, I can't predict if I be able to post regularly in the next few days; it'll depend on how well I feel. Let me just say: I hate being sick.
Friday, May 16, 2003
Buddhism in the Library
Each year, the English honor society - Sigma Tau Delta - puts on a softball game between the students and the professors, something I have played in the past two years, but, unfortunately, it looks as if excessive rain will cancel this year, even though there is a rumor that the softball event will turn into a basketball event so it can be held in doors and out of the rain. As a result, I'm postponing my trip to the big city, until I know what's happening for sure.
Consequently, I've been doing homework and was just recently slogging away at my British Lit. novel in the library (I'm almost done!), but at 2:00 p.m. Buddhist monks, dressed in red and orange robes, performed a small ceremony, including blowing large horns, chanting, and clashing cymbals, in the lobby. Apparently, they had made a colored sand mandala yesterday and were in the process of sweeping it up into small mylar bags which they handed out to anyone who wanted one; one of them said that the sand from the mandala could be a blessing for those who decided to take it. I decided not to take one, not because I'm opposed to Buddhism - nothing could be further from the truth - but because I figured that my real desire for it actually came from a partial desire to have tangible proof that I saw Buddhist monks in the library - a purely materialist reason. Because it is my belief that sincere spirituality is central to our existence, I correspondingly feel that what I should take from the ceremony is the memory my being there and seeing it and the recognition that the real gifts are the ones created from consciously developing virtues.
Each year, the English honor society - Sigma Tau Delta - puts on a softball game between the students and the professors, something I have played in the past two years, but, unfortunately, it looks as if excessive rain will cancel this year, even though there is a rumor that the softball event will turn into a basketball event so it can be held in doors and out of the rain. As a result, I'm postponing my trip to the big city, until I know what's happening for sure.
Consequently, I've been doing homework and was just recently slogging away at my British Lit. novel in the library (I'm almost done!), but at 2:00 p.m. Buddhist monks, dressed in red and orange robes, performed a small ceremony, including blowing large horns, chanting, and clashing cymbals, in the lobby. Apparently, they had made a colored sand mandala yesterday and were in the process of sweeping it up into small mylar bags which they handed out to anyone who wanted one; one of them said that the sand from the mandala could be a blessing for those who decided to take it. I decided not to take one, not because I'm opposed to Buddhism - nothing could be further from the truth - but because I figured that my real desire for it actually came from a partial desire to have tangible proof that I saw Buddhist monks in the library - a purely materialist reason. Because it is my belief that sincere spirituality is central to our existence, I correspondingly feel that what I should take from the ceremony is the memory my being there and seeing it and the recognition that the real gifts are the ones created from consciously developing virtues.
Thursday, May 15, 2003
The evening
Not wanting to spend the entire night in my apartment - normally just a "crash pad", but currently a miserable mess - I drove about fifteen miles out of town to a wildlife refuge where I could read the assigned novel for my British Lit. class without having to look at dirty laundry or papers strewn about my floor; I hiked a steep grassy trail up a broad hill, surprised a herd of deer grazing about twenty feet away from me, and sat in a meadow at thel top where I read my book, listening to the faint summer honking of Canadian Geese swimming in a slough at the bottom. Although I had been to this place several times before, once for a required science class, I was not quite prepared for the awesome display of rain clouds woven into the setting of a soft orange sun. It was somewhat cold, about 50 degrees, and my hands were getting a little numb; Nevertheless, I spent about an hour reading and listening to the brush sparrows flit and chirp overhead. I still haven't completed many of my school projects or papers, but I think that this excursion was refreshing enough to lend new impetus to renewed attempt.
Not wanting to spend the entire night in my apartment - normally just a "crash pad", but currently a miserable mess - I drove about fifteen miles out of town to a wildlife refuge where I could read the assigned novel for my British Lit. class without having to look at dirty laundry or papers strewn about my floor; I hiked a steep grassy trail up a broad hill, surprised a herd of deer grazing about twenty feet away from me, and sat in a meadow at thel top where I read my book, listening to the faint summer honking of Canadian Geese swimming in a slough at the bottom. Although I had been to this place several times before, once for a required science class, I was not quite prepared for the awesome display of rain clouds woven into the setting of a soft orange sun. It was somewhat cold, about 50 degrees, and my hands were getting a little numb; Nevertheless, I spent about an hour reading and listening to the brush sparrows flit and chirp overhead. I still haven't completed many of my school projects or papers, but I think that this excursion was refreshing enough to lend new impetus to renewed attempt.
Words
Not too long ago, while walking home from school in the early evening, just when the several clouds in the sky begin to color, I noticed a handful of birds sporting about underneath some dusty green bushes by the local senior center. At the time, something like the phrase "a sprinkling of birds, like handfuls of sugar tossed carelessly from..." jumped into my mind as a potential beginning for a poem; but while I thought about the words, the birds, and that particular metaphor for a couple of days, I didn't commit anything to paper (or screen). Shortly afterwards, I realized that I was equally affected by the words (their sounds and images) and the feeling of satisfaction that they gave me - like having just completed a delicious meal - as I was with the actual sight of the little guys peeping around and popping up and down in bark dust. Maybe I've gone off the deep end, but I think that my relationship with words and language is going through some minor transformation, to the point where I sometimes turn on the close captioning to my television, so I can continue to read even as I watch television. Of course writing all of this just now has made me realize something else - I must be the biggest nerd on the planet earth.
Not too long ago, while walking home from school in the early evening, just when the several clouds in the sky begin to color, I noticed a handful of birds sporting about underneath some dusty green bushes by the local senior center. At the time, something like the phrase "a sprinkling of birds, like handfuls of sugar tossed carelessly from..." jumped into my mind as a potential beginning for a poem; but while I thought about the words, the birds, and that particular metaphor for a couple of days, I didn't commit anything to paper (or screen). Shortly afterwards, I realized that I was equally affected by the words (their sounds and images) and the feeling of satisfaction that they gave me - like having just completed a delicious meal - as I was with the actual sight of the little guys peeping around and popping up and down in bark dust. Maybe I've gone off the deep end, but I think that my relationship with words and language is going through some minor transformation, to the point where I sometimes turn on the close captioning to my television, so I can continue to read even as I watch television. Of course writing all of this just now has made me realize something else - I must be the biggest nerd on the planet earth.
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
The Prize
I just found out that I did not win the writing prize for my Herman Melville paper that I had submitted last term at the request of one of my professors, but I was "competitive" and was among the top two or three papers. Although I nearly killed myself writing the silly thing, I knew it had some problems, and therefore, I did not have my hopes up; however, I'm intensely curious about which paper did win and who wrote it - what do the professors consider to be very good writing. I think I'm going to find out when I go to the Outstanding Student Award ceremony on the tuesday after next; my professor mentioned that the winner will read part of her paper before all of the attendees.
As for everything else, work continues to pile up. Besides all of the forms I have to fill out for grad. school, I need to finish my papers and my projects, which admittedly need more of my undivided attention. I am also going to get a cell phone tonight if everything goes according to plans, which, although I probably need a phone as much as the proverbial fish needs a bicycle, is sure to be another - albeit rather cool - distraction from my getting anything actually done.
I just found out that I did not win the writing prize for my Herman Melville paper that I had submitted last term at the request of one of my professors, but I was "competitive" and was among the top two or three papers. Although I nearly killed myself writing the silly thing, I knew it had some problems, and therefore, I did not have my hopes up; however, I'm intensely curious about which paper did win and who wrote it - what do the professors consider to be very good writing. I think I'm going to find out when I go to the Outstanding Student Award ceremony on the tuesday after next; my professor mentioned that the winner will read part of her paper before all of the attendees.
As for everything else, work continues to pile up. Besides all of the forms I have to fill out for grad. school, I need to finish my papers and my projects, which admittedly need more of my undivided attention. I am also going to get a cell phone tonight if everything goes according to plans, which, although I probably need a phone as much as the proverbial fish needs a bicycle, is sure to be another - albeit rather cool - distraction from my getting anything actually done.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Letters
Today must be the day for letters; When I arrived for my evening British Lit. class, the professor handed me the following:
Dear (Zhaf)
Congratulations. You have been chosen by the English department to receive the outstanding student award in English for Literature. This award will be presented to you at Student Recognition Night on Tuesday May 27 . . . Refreshments will be served after the presentation. I look forward to seeing you there.
If you have ever read Pynchon's short comic novel The Crying of Lot 49, then you'll understand why I'm beginning to suspect the Tristero.
Today must be the day for letters; When I arrived for my evening British Lit. class, the professor handed me the following:
Dear (Zhaf)
Congratulations. You have been chosen by the English department to receive the outstanding student award in English for Literature. This award will be presented to you at Student Recognition Night on Tuesday May 27 . . . Refreshments will be served after the presentation. I look forward to seeing you there.
If you have ever read Pynchon's short comic novel The Crying of Lot 49, then you'll understand why I'm beginning to suspect the Tristero.
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