"Artists use lies to tell the truth. Yes, I create lies, but because you believe them, you find something true in yourself."
I am an artist.
Lately, I've been contemplating the meaning of the truth. I've always seen truth as "reality," or that which exists before my very eyes. I viewed truth from a very objective standpoint, narrow, and for the most part, unchangeable.
I'm seeing more and more how variable truth can be, and how one's perception of the truth can change both the meaning and outcome of the situation entirely. I, for one, try to keep an upbeat and positive attitude in check with everything I do; is it true that I am an optimist? I realize more and more that this is entirely unanswerable, because it is subjective and in subjectivism (if that's a word...) there is little or no truth.
What replaces truth, in a subjective situation, is perception and feeling toward the situation. Through feeling one may find truth; though, not about the situation, only about the feeling.
Go back to the quote there, at the beginning. Few people tell the truth; not because they are liars, but because there is little truth to be had in much of what we do. Truth beams at us through subjects such as math, and to a degree, science; truth shines through proven objects and ideas. However, what about the rest? Consider an opinion; can an opinion be true? I would argue yes and no. Opinion is untrue in that it is not fact; however, an opinion can be true if it accurately reflects the feelings and ideas of the person holding the opinion. Your opinions may not be true for me, nor mine for you. So how do we go on judging truth as though it's a fundamental part of life?
I would say that, for a large part of my life, I've searched for "truth." I've studied math and science in a great search for truth. I've abandoned belief in "God," because religion is not true to me. I've also separated myself from philosophy and unproven theory for the same reason: my inability to find truth.
But why is finding truth so important?
Anything can become a lie, no matter how "true" it may be, if the sayer of the phrase lacks belief in it. A phrase so simple (yet complex) as "I love you" can turn from ultimate truth into one of the most beautiful lies in existence. And, if the audience is to believe the phrase, the lie so to speak, he or she may find truth in themselves. Truth inevitably and invariably becomes an object of perception, then--is this possible? Is it possible to use a lie to tell the truth? Yes, because although I do not perceive something as true, when I share it with you, it may become true for you.
In speaking the "truth," then, it may be more considerable to one's audience to consider the outcome rather than the factual evidence that may or may not back up one's claim. How will the other person perceive the "truth;" will they find it to be true?
I love you, I love you, I love you; if I mean what I say then it is truth to me; if you fail to believe it, then it is false. If, however, I say it without meaning, but you believe it in good faith, then it is true to you but untrue to me. From an outsider's perspective, then, is it true or untrue? Arguably, it is from a subjective standpoint, and there is no room for truth aside from the truth which each of the participants finds in the phrase and moreover the implications of the phrase.
In other words, what is true to me may be untrue to you, and not even a matter of truth to a third party.
Therefore, aside from proven fact, what place does truth have in our lives? I have come so far, at least in my current state, to be able to argue that truth either doesn't exist in the subjective world, or does not matter in many situations, especially those based on perception rather than data. I don't know if I'm right here (what is "right," anyway?), and for one of the first times in my life, I'm enjoying being in this state of contemplation.
Until next time, be an artist. I know I am.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
And so it began...
Wow, it's been about a month since I've written a blog, and I must admit...I miss it!
Well, I started student teaching, so I thought I'd talk about that a little bit. As if it doesn't already consume my life, right? Ha ha ha. . .
I'm in a fifth grade classroom, and man are they cute! They're so...small! I guess I got super used to working with 6th grade and up--I forgot how small 5th graders are. Another initial impression of my fifth graders are...they are still fairly innocent. The upside: for the most part, they behave really well! The downside: they don't understand sarcasm...at all. Case in point, from today:
Student hand goes up.
Me: Yes?
Student: I have a question.
Me: Sorry, no questions allowed.
Student: Oh. *hangs head*
...
Me: OF course questions are allowed!! Ask away. :)
I'm still not used to the fact that they don't always understand humor--they're a super literal bunch. On the other hand, I love them entirely.
A few things I've accomplished: bulletin boards, grading papers, learning students' names (this is a HUGE deal), and, as of this week, teaching one math class! According to the planning guide, I'll be teaching full days before I know it. I can't begin to express how excited I am for this to happen--to have "total control." Not that teaching is all about control, but I think that the kids will respond a lot better to one consistent teacher instead of (now) having to switch between my coop and me.
The thing I've been most disgusted with since having started student teaching is the following: encountering teachers who hate kids. I mean seriously?! I get the argument of "this is my degree, and changing careers is not possible." Ok, sure, but do you know how many young lives you are RUINING by staying in this profession? I mean honestly. The kids understand that you don't like them. Withholding bathroom privileges is NOT an acceptable punishment. Also, call me oldfashioned, but I believe in RECESS. I need the break too! I just can't believe that teachers go on living their lives in misery (clearly) and making others' lives miserable as well. I'd much rather see a teacher leave the profession to go work a job at McD's than to torture any more students by doing something that they don't want to do (teaching).
I love kids. I can say that to the utmost degree, and without any sense of perversion: I love teaching and I love kids. I love the random stuff they come up with, I love passing on knowledge, I love every single moment of the day: giving and collecting homework (or not), leading a group discussion, planning activities...and most importantly, I love seeing it all come together EVERY day to prove to be effective for the kids. Teaching is like directing an orchestra: if everyone can work together, well, a ton of progress is made. If one person is off, out of tune, or what have you--it can throw off the entire day.
The one thing I want to work on in the near future is not letting the day's events influence my mood to such a degree. My mood from 3pm onward is affected by what occurred between 9AM and 2:45PM. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. I hope to work on that...really soon.
But for now, I need to go grade papers! :)
Peace, y'all. And I promise more (interesting) blogs to come!
Well, I started student teaching, so I thought I'd talk about that a little bit. As if it doesn't already consume my life, right? Ha ha ha. . .
I'm in a fifth grade classroom, and man are they cute! They're so...small! I guess I got super used to working with 6th grade and up--I forgot how small 5th graders are. Another initial impression of my fifth graders are...they are still fairly innocent. The upside: for the most part, they behave really well! The downside: they don't understand sarcasm...at all. Case in point, from today:
Student hand goes up.
Me: Yes?
Student: I have a question.
Me: Sorry, no questions allowed.
Student: Oh. *hangs head*
...
Me: OF course questions are allowed!! Ask away. :)
I'm still not used to the fact that they don't always understand humor--they're a super literal bunch. On the other hand, I love them entirely.
A few things I've accomplished: bulletin boards, grading papers, learning students' names (this is a HUGE deal), and, as of this week, teaching one math class! According to the planning guide, I'll be teaching full days before I know it. I can't begin to express how excited I am for this to happen--to have "total control." Not that teaching is all about control, but I think that the kids will respond a lot better to one consistent teacher instead of (now) having to switch between my coop and me.
The thing I've been most disgusted with since having started student teaching is the following: encountering teachers who hate kids. I mean seriously?! I get the argument of "this is my degree, and changing careers is not possible." Ok, sure, but do you know how many young lives you are RUINING by staying in this profession? I mean honestly. The kids understand that you don't like them. Withholding bathroom privileges is NOT an acceptable punishment. Also, call me oldfashioned, but I believe in RECESS. I need the break too! I just can't believe that teachers go on living their lives in misery (clearly) and making others' lives miserable as well. I'd much rather see a teacher leave the profession to go work a job at McD's than to torture any more students by doing something that they don't want to do (teaching).
I love kids. I can say that to the utmost degree, and without any sense of perversion: I love teaching and I love kids. I love the random stuff they come up with, I love passing on knowledge, I love every single moment of the day: giving and collecting homework (or not), leading a group discussion, planning activities...and most importantly, I love seeing it all come together EVERY day to prove to be effective for the kids. Teaching is like directing an orchestra: if everyone can work together, well, a ton of progress is made. If one person is off, out of tune, or what have you--it can throw off the entire day.
The one thing I want to work on in the near future is not letting the day's events influence my mood to such a degree. My mood from 3pm onward is affected by what occurred between 9AM and 2:45PM. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. I hope to work on that...really soon.
But for now, I need to go grade papers! :)
Peace, y'all. And I promise more (interesting) blogs to come!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
te amo, te amo.
"Don't it mean I love you? Think it means I love you."
From my short (nearly) 21 years of life, I have seen time and time again those that surround me ask "What is love? Do I really love him/her? How will I know when I truly love someone?"
Though I don't proclaim to be better educated than any with this pondering, I have lately given this idea much thought; I don't think I've come to a new and praise-worthy solution, but I can share what it means to me. It all started making sense after...well, after a progression of time really, since forever ago until several short minutes ago, watching "Mansfield Park," based on a Jane Austen novel. One of the characters states, "There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time." And I think that that sums up what I've been thinking about love--any conclusion I've come to has likely been on the same level of intellect though not expressed nearly as well.
Perhaps it's the way words evade me when it comes to something so important; I can speak clearly, concisely, and professionally about nearly anything: education, money, society, and so on but when someone asks me for my personal feelings towards them, as a person, I often find my tongue and mind to simply not want to cooperate at all, and am left with such nonsense phrases as, "I can't explain it, I just do [love/care for you]!"
This is often inefficient and may have left the other person not believing me whatsoever. And, I don't blame him (or her). But this idea of forms of love--this portrays nearly every thought I've had as of late, and here's how (please note that these do not all describe the same people, or types of love):
I love you when get a text from you, showing that you're using your brain, unlike most highschoolers your age.
I love you when you call me, just to make sure I'm alright.
I love you when you wrap your arms tightly around me.
I love you when complain about work, because you trust me to not judge you based on your opinion of others.
I love you when you say exactly what I'm thinking.
I love you when you say something I can challenge.
I love you when I teach you something new; I also love you when I can learn from you at the same time.
I love you when you take risks for me.
I love you when you look into my eyes, and say nothing.
I love you when you ask me for help, it shows that you think highly of my abilities.
I love you when you take the time to explain what you're thinking; it shows you care about me.
I love you when you tell me I'm beautiful, or gorgeous; I know you never mean (solely) physically.
I love you when you talk about leaving town, and escaping to another state, or even country; it shows me that you have big dreams, and trust me to be able to dream with you.
I love you when you tell me you can't buy my groceries, but will gladly take me grocery shopping with you; it shows me that you value our time together.
I love you when you tell me about being afraid of the future; it shows me that you can depend on me to understand and help in whatever way I can.
I love you when you play me a new song, or recommend a new book; it shows that you want to incorporate me into one of your true loves.
I love you when you play the piano; the improvisation shows you are proud of your talent, and want to share it with me.
I love you when you raise your hand to ask me a question; it shows that you know I'll help you find an answer.
I love you when you call me up late at night; it shows that our old friendship still means to you what it means to me.
I love you when you write me postcards from other states and countries; it shows that, even when away, you're thinking of me.
I love you when I get a message saying, "Morseland tonight?" because it shows I've been incorporated into a strong group of friends with a true bond.
I love you when you kiss me; it tells me that you care much about making me happy as you do being happy.
I love you when I cook you dinner; your appreciation is worth far more than any meal I'll provide you.
I love you when you tell me you don't care that I walk differently, or eat differently, than most people; it shows that you embrace my differences rather than ostracizing me for them.
I love you when you ask my opinion on something, even if it's just clothing, because it shows me that you value my opinion as much as I value yours.
I love you when you tell me I need another surgery, or a new medicine, because it shows that you're trying to preserve my health for as long as possible.
I love you when you talk to me about other girls who are beautiful; it shows that you trust me not to get angry, or jealous. Instead, I learn to respect your opinion; you give me the same in return.
I love you even when you call me with a computer question; though at times it feels as though you're ungrateful, I know you wouldn't feel comfortable calling "just anyone," and it warms my heart to know that you can trust me to be honest and steadfast in helping you.
I love you when you look at me and tell me there is no God, because I believe the same thing, and I revel in the fact that we can bond over this.
I love you when you call me and share your drunken philosophies late at night (or early in the morning), because I have another opportunity to learn more about you.
I love you when you complain about your summer reading; even though you think you're "above" it, I know you'll learn something.
I love you when you text me something so hilariously funny that I have the urge to spit out whatever's in my mouth; it shows me that you know me well enough to know what I'll appreciate, and care about me enough to share it with me.
I love you every day that you don't smoke a cigarette; it shows me that even though you set a bad example for me growing up, you did have the sense to change your ways.
I love you every time you poke me on facebook, because even though we have each moved on to other relationships, it shows that you still think of me as I think of you, and that we can still find some common, communicative ground.
I love you when you tell me you love me; it inspires hope in me that maybe someone realizes love the way in which I have for so long.
So then, what is love? I look at some of the words I use above, and I see: inspire, show, share, teach, learn, opportunity, trust, value, appreciate, bond, friendship...just to name a few. I don't think that love is one thing; rather, love is a combination of some (if not all) of these things. For me, love is not what love is for you. Likewise, for Sally or Tommy or Billy or Jen, love is something entirely different. Love is a moment. And, the people we love the most are those with whom we spend the most loving moments. I'm lucky enough to have a few of those people in my life; though I certainly can't proclaim to spend every single solitary moment loving them, I can say that I spend many moments loving them...inspiring them, trusting them, learning from them, bonding with them, appreciating them, valuing them, sharing with them, showing them (or being shown by them), and so on. Te amo, te amo...it's not one thing. It's many things, and it's amazing.
As I was writing this list and thinking of the people I was describing, it came to my attention that I was not simply describing thoughts. Nor was I simply describing words. Nor was I simply describing actions. I was describing a combination of thoughts, words, and actions, and my reactions to them. As I think about how, when, where, or why I love someone else, I realize that I love each and every person in a different way at a different time. I realize that each person that I love holds a significant place in my life, and I can say that I love each person differently...because there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time, and with each passing moment, I love you in a different way.
From my short (nearly) 21 years of life, I have seen time and time again those that surround me ask "What is love? Do I really love him/her? How will I know when I truly love someone?"
Though I don't proclaim to be better educated than any with this pondering, I have lately given this idea much thought; I don't think I've come to a new and praise-worthy solution, but I can share what it means to me. It all started making sense after...well, after a progression of time really, since forever ago until several short minutes ago, watching "Mansfield Park," based on a Jane Austen novel. One of the characters states, "There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time." And I think that that sums up what I've been thinking about love--any conclusion I've come to has likely been on the same level of intellect though not expressed nearly as well.
Perhaps it's the way words evade me when it comes to something so important; I can speak clearly, concisely, and professionally about nearly anything: education, money, society, and so on but when someone asks me for my personal feelings towards them, as a person, I often find my tongue and mind to simply not want to cooperate at all, and am left with such nonsense phrases as, "I can't explain it, I just do [love/care for you]!"
This is often inefficient and may have left the other person not believing me whatsoever. And, I don't blame him (or her). But this idea of forms of love--this portrays nearly every thought I've had as of late, and here's how (please note that these do not all describe the same people, or types of love):
I love you when get a text from you, showing that you're using your brain, unlike most highschoolers your age.
I love you when you call me, just to make sure I'm alright.
I love you when you wrap your arms tightly around me.
I love you when complain about work, because you trust me to not judge you based on your opinion of others.
I love you when you say exactly what I'm thinking.
I love you when you say something I can challenge.
I love you when I teach you something new; I also love you when I can learn from you at the same time.
I love you when you take risks for me.
I love you when you look into my eyes, and say nothing.
I love you when you ask me for help, it shows that you think highly of my abilities.
I love you when you take the time to explain what you're thinking; it shows you care about me.
I love you when you tell me I'm beautiful, or gorgeous; I know you never mean (solely) physically.
I love you when you talk about leaving town, and escaping to another state, or even country; it shows me that you have big dreams, and trust me to be able to dream with you.
I love you when you tell me you can't buy my groceries, but will gladly take me grocery shopping with you; it shows me that you value our time together.
I love you when you tell me about being afraid of the future; it shows me that you can depend on me to understand and help in whatever way I can.
I love you when you play me a new song, or recommend a new book; it shows that you want to incorporate me into one of your true loves.
I love you when you play the piano; the improvisation shows you are proud of your talent, and want to share it with me.
I love you when you raise your hand to ask me a question; it shows that you know I'll help you find an answer.
I love you when you call me up late at night; it shows that our old friendship still means to you what it means to me.
I love you when you write me postcards from other states and countries; it shows that, even when away, you're thinking of me.
I love you when I get a message saying, "Morseland tonight?" because it shows I've been incorporated into a strong group of friends with a true bond.
I love you when you kiss me; it tells me that you care much about making me happy as you do being happy.
I love you when I cook you dinner; your appreciation is worth far more than any meal I'll provide you.
I love you when you tell me you don't care that I walk differently, or eat differently, than most people; it shows that you embrace my differences rather than ostracizing me for them.
I love you when you ask my opinion on something, even if it's just clothing, because it shows me that you value my opinion as much as I value yours.
I love you when you tell me I need another surgery, or a new medicine, because it shows that you're trying to preserve my health for as long as possible.
I love you when you talk to me about other girls who are beautiful; it shows that you trust me not to get angry, or jealous. Instead, I learn to respect your opinion; you give me the same in return.
I love you even when you call me with a computer question; though at times it feels as though you're ungrateful, I know you wouldn't feel comfortable calling "just anyone," and it warms my heart to know that you can trust me to be honest and steadfast in helping you.
I love you when you look at me and tell me there is no God, because I believe the same thing, and I revel in the fact that we can bond over this.
I love you when you call me and share your drunken philosophies late at night (or early in the morning), because I have another opportunity to learn more about you.
I love you when you complain about your summer reading; even though you think you're "above" it, I know you'll learn something.
I love you when you text me something so hilariously funny that I have the urge to spit out whatever's in my mouth; it shows me that you know me well enough to know what I'll appreciate, and care about me enough to share it with me.
I love you every day that you don't smoke a cigarette; it shows me that even though you set a bad example for me growing up, you did have the sense to change your ways.
I love you every time you poke me on facebook, because even though we have each moved on to other relationships, it shows that you still think of me as I think of you, and that we can still find some common, communicative ground.
I love you when you tell me you love me; it inspires hope in me that maybe someone realizes love the way in which I have for so long.
So then, what is love? I look at some of the words I use above, and I see: inspire, show, share, teach, learn, opportunity, trust, value, appreciate, bond, friendship...just to name a few. I don't think that love is one thing; rather, love is a combination of some (if not all) of these things. For me, love is not what love is for you. Likewise, for Sally or Tommy or Billy or Jen, love is something entirely different. Love is a moment. And, the people we love the most are those with whom we spend the most loving moments. I'm lucky enough to have a few of those people in my life; though I certainly can't proclaim to spend every single solitary moment loving them, I can say that I spend many moments loving them...inspiring them, trusting them, learning from them, bonding with them, appreciating them, valuing them, sharing with them, showing them (or being shown by them), and so on. Te amo, te amo...it's not one thing. It's many things, and it's amazing.
As I was writing this list and thinking of the people I was describing, it came to my attention that I was not simply describing thoughts. Nor was I simply describing words. Nor was I simply describing actions. I was describing a combination of thoughts, words, and actions, and my reactions to them. As I think about how, when, where, or why I love someone else, I realize that I love each and every person in a different way at a different time. I realize that each person that I love holds a significant place in my life, and I can say that I love each person differently...because there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time, and with each passing moment, I love you in a different way.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
ungrateful, bitch?
This weekend has been "the experience of a lifetime," truly. I'll begin writing this, though if it turns into a rant I may scrap it or come back and edit it at a later point in time. I'll try not to get too far off topic, though. :)
Last weekend, my mom's computer screen died. If you read the last blog (hint, hint) called "failure," you'll know all about that experience. Well, my mother had requested that I come "home" again this weekend to help her pick out a new computer (laptop). She also promised that I could pick out my birthday present (a pair of "real" headphones). So, Friday evening I took the Metra out to the suburbs. Within an hour of being there, I got into a fight with my mom AND my dad. Not the same fight--but awful all the same. I was seething pure rage, and couldn't stop sobbing. Thankfully, an old friend came and picked me up around midnight. We stayed out most of the night, and I strolled through the door around 4:30AM. We ate tacos (haha!) and then sat in a park, and looked at the stars, and talked for about 3-3.5 hours. We talked about everything--life, school, family, philosophy--it was absolutely what I needed. I came back home and slept, recharged for the next day (Saturday). On Saturday, I found out my mom was working both Saturday AND Sunday. I asked her why she made me travel out to the suburbs over the weekend if she was busy anyway--when was I supposed to go help her shop for this computer? She said she effed up, that she had forgotten she was scheduled to work on Sunday, and that we'd figure it out. Best Buy is open until 7PM on Sundays, and she only had to work until 4PM, so her plan was to go right after work.
In the meantime, she asked me for help in finishing up her schoolwork. She had to submit an entire portfolio for one of her classes by 11PM on Saturday night. At 9:50PM, I informed her that the program would lock her out after 11PM, if that's when the due date was set. She was unaware, and started cursing. Then, she asked me for my help. What was I supposed to say, no? So, I offered to help her. I thought I would just be typing assignments, since she still hand-writes all of her assignments before typing them. I typed one, and then she typed one. While she typed hers, she asked me to do one of the assignments for her. Yes, that's right, my own mother was asking me to do her homework for her. I don't think I've ever done someone else's work to that extent before. Sure, I've done the majority of the work in group projects, but this was different. My mother put her own, and only her own, name on this assignment. I, however, wrote the entire thing.
It was not a long assignment--just a one page reflection on her "philosophy" of teaching students with special needs. I wrote down my philosophy, and hoped she agreed. At the end, instead of thanking me, she simply pointed out that I left a typo near the end ("fins" instead of "finds"--not an easy one to catch). As it was, she only submitted the assignment two minutes before she would have gotten locked out of the program. She left the room, and fell asleep on the couch. But she didn't leave the room before yelling at me. I had checked out several things at Best Buy early in the day on Saturday, so that I could prepare myself for taking her shopping on Sunday. I had found about 3-4 computer models that were acceptable (in her price range, decent hard drives, processors, RAM, and so on), and I also found a pair of headphones with which I completely fell in love. After she submitted the work (on my computer, nonetheless), I asked if she'd like to see the headphones. After one quick glance, she snottily said, "Humph, you can show me headphones but no computer models! I see where your priorities are!" and then she left the room.
I was a little more than peeved, at this point, but I kept my cool, and went to sleep. I had awful dreams about her, but at least I didn't say anything to her face that I wanted to--then, I would have had even deeper problems.
Sunday morning came around, and she agreed to go to Best Buy shortly after 4PM. Before she left for work, she said something along the lines of "I want to talk your birthday surprise over with you at Best Buy, I think you'll be happy." I asked her why she could't tell me at home, and she said she didn't want anyone to overhear it. So, for those of you who know how curious I am, you know that all day this killed me--would I get the headphones? Would she make a further mess in my life? Who knows? I was nervous, but excited. Shortly after 4, she got home from work, and (after she changed, had a glass of iced tea, etc etc) we headed over to Best Buy.
On the way into the store, she mentioned that, because I had saved her all sorts of money (oh, yeah, I ordered all my brother's textbooks for school online this weekend--with my half.com/credit card, and had them shipped, saving around $200 compared to what she'd pay at his school), she decided she could go ahead and get me the headphones. She had originally wanted to spend about $100 on me, and then when I saved her $200, she realized she could probably spend $300 on me. Well isn't that nice! I was ecstatic.
We first stopped to look at the headphones ("Oh wow, all I hear is bass!") and she was sort of impressed, though still stressed about the $300 price tag. Then, I led her back to the computers. I showed her what I had it "narrowed down" to, and then I proceeded to talk a bit about each one, in terms that she (hopefully) could understand. I even had another customer (actually 2-3) asking me about computers, having me compare them, and giving them my opinion on different models. I guess I sounded like I knew what I was talking about (ha! No really, I do know a little bit about computers...). My mom was happy with her choice, and we made the purchases. While checking out our items, the salesman talked up the headphones I had picked out. He said that he had a pair, and loved them, and gave me a few "start up" tips and so on. I appreciated his advice; however, my mom had already told me that I'd have to wait until my birthday to get them. Actually, she wants to have a "party" in the suburbs the weekend following my birthday, and I'd have to wait until that time (or so I assumed, as I won't be traveling out there before that time). So, I politely thanked the man, and told him that I'd definitely take his advice--in four weeks, after I obtained the headphones. He looked at me strangely. I explained that they were a birthday present. He pretended to understand, and wished me the best.
On the way home, things took a turn for the worse. My mom started berating me for how ungrateful I am. "You have everything you want, and you can't even wait a few weeks so that I have something to wrap for your birthday? You think you should have this now? What have you done to deserve this?" I choked back the angry tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
Well, let's see, Mommy dearest. This weekend I:
-made a trip to the suburbs in rush-hour traffic, because it fit YOUR schedule.
-ordered $240 worth of textbooks, without you pre-paying me, and saved you about $200 in the process.
-cleaned my turtle's tank, bought new litter, and rearranged things so that he doesn't smell (something my parents promised to do when I moved out...).
-wrote an entire assignment that I will NOT get credit for, and helped you submit it minutes before the deadline.
-let you use my computer, so that you'd even get the stupid assignment submitted on time.
-sewed your son's shoes back together, so he can continue wearing them (they've only been broke for three months now...).
-looked through over 20 laptop models, and did a price/quality analysis, so that you could get the best deal for the money you were willing to spend.
-spent 2+ hours downloading and installing everything you needed on your computer, and even tried to provide over the phone support once I left/was on my way home.
-did NOT ask you once for money for food, pet supplies, or anything.
And I don't deserve anything? Do you know that the entire weekend, she didn't even thank me for my help, not once?! She did call me ungrateful about 20 times though, because I wanted to take my birthday present home three weeks early. Because in those three (four) weeks, I'll actually have a long commute to work, and one of my earbuds blew out this week; travelling on the el without headphones is pretty much hell, especially the 1.25 hours it takes me to get to work (and back). Basically, by the time I get my birthday present, it'll be time for school to start, and (though I'll still use them a lot!) I won't get a "marathon" listening session like I would if I were to take them on the el. I tried to point this out, but apparently this made me even more ungrateful.
It's like I can't win with the woman. All I did this weekend is give--give to her, give to my dad, give to my brother--and she couldn't even do one favor in return for me! Once I left with my dad to come back to my house, she started talking about me behind my back, to my brother. She was definitely talking smack, and Doug would not have it! (Man, I love that kid. He truly has my back). She started in on how ungrateful I was for "everything", and my brother wouldn't have it! He looked her in the eye, and said, "She worked for you all weekend, she doesn't have her birthday present yet, and she's not 21, what exactly should she be grateful for right now?" and he's absolutely right! My mom then turned and yelled at him, but he stood his ground and backed me up across the board.
So now let me ask, who's the ungrateful one? Yes, I know my mom has it hard, I know that she thinks her life sucks...but if she'd look past the end of her nose she might be able to see that she's making the rest of us miserable!
I know I take advantage of people sometimes (I think we all do), but I try to always keep myself in check a bit (quite a bit) better than that. I guess now I wait for the "birthday faerie" to decide to bring me my present...
"At least you have something to look forward to"...you ungrateful bitch.
Last weekend, my mom's computer screen died. If you read the last blog (hint, hint) called "failure," you'll know all about that experience. Well, my mother had requested that I come "home" again this weekend to help her pick out a new computer (laptop). She also promised that I could pick out my birthday present (a pair of "real" headphones). So, Friday evening I took the Metra out to the suburbs. Within an hour of being there, I got into a fight with my mom AND my dad. Not the same fight--but awful all the same. I was seething pure rage, and couldn't stop sobbing. Thankfully, an old friend came and picked me up around midnight. We stayed out most of the night, and I strolled through the door around 4:30AM. We ate tacos (haha!) and then sat in a park, and looked at the stars, and talked for about 3-3.5 hours. We talked about everything--life, school, family, philosophy--it was absolutely what I needed. I came back home and slept, recharged for the next day (Saturday). On Saturday, I found out my mom was working both Saturday AND Sunday. I asked her why she made me travel out to the suburbs over the weekend if she was busy anyway--when was I supposed to go help her shop for this computer? She said she effed up, that she had forgotten she was scheduled to work on Sunday, and that we'd figure it out. Best Buy is open until 7PM on Sundays, and she only had to work until 4PM, so her plan was to go right after work.
In the meantime, she asked me for help in finishing up her schoolwork. She had to submit an entire portfolio for one of her classes by 11PM on Saturday night. At 9:50PM, I informed her that the program would lock her out after 11PM, if that's when the due date was set. She was unaware, and started cursing. Then, she asked me for my help. What was I supposed to say, no? So, I offered to help her. I thought I would just be typing assignments, since she still hand-writes all of her assignments before typing them. I typed one, and then she typed one. While she typed hers, she asked me to do one of the assignments for her. Yes, that's right, my own mother was asking me to do her homework for her. I don't think I've ever done someone else's work to that extent before. Sure, I've done the majority of the work in group projects, but this was different. My mother put her own, and only her own, name on this assignment. I, however, wrote the entire thing.
It was not a long assignment--just a one page reflection on her "philosophy" of teaching students with special needs. I wrote down my philosophy, and hoped she agreed. At the end, instead of thanking me, she simply pointed out that I left a typo near the end ("fins" instead of "finds"--not an easy one to catch). As it was, she only submitted the assignment two minutes before she would have gotten locked out of the program. She left the room, and fell asleep on the couch. But she didn't leave the room before yelling at me. I had checked out several things at Best Buy early in the day on Saturday, so that I could prepare myself for taking her shopping on Sunday. I had found about 3-4 computer models that were acceptable (in her price range, decent hard drives, processors, RAM, and so on), and I also found a pair of headphones with which I completely fell in love. After she submitted the work (on my computer, nonetheless), I asked if she'd like to see the headphones. After one quick glance, she snottily said, "Humph, you can show me headphones but no computer models! I see where your priorities are!" and then she left the room.
I was a little more than peeved, at this point, but I kept my cool, and went to sleep. I had awful dreams about her, but at least I didn't say anything to her face that I wanted to--then, I would have had even deeper problems.
Sunday morning came around, and she agreed to go to Best Buy shortly after 4PM. Before she left for work, she said something along the lines of "I want to talk your birthday surprise over with you at Best Buy, I think you'll be happy." I asked her why she could't tell me at home, and she said she didn't want anyone to overhear it. So, for those of you who know how curious I am, you know that all day this killed me--would I get the headphones? Would she make a further mess in my life? Who knows? I was nervous, but excited. Shortly after 4, she got home from work, and (after she changed, had a glass of iced tea, etc etc) we headed over to Best Buy.
On the way into the store, she mentioned that, because I had saved her all sorts of money (oh, yeah, I ordered all my brother's textbooks for school online this weekend--with my half.com/credit card, and had them shipped, saving around $200 compared to what she'd pay at his school), she decided she could go ahead and get me the headphones. She had originally wanted to spend about $100 on me, and then when I saved her $200, she realized she could probably spend $300 on me. Well isn't that nice! I was ecstatic.
We first stopped to look at the headphones ("Oh wow, all I hear is bass!") and she was sort of impressed, though still stressed about the $300 price tag. Then, I led her back to the computers. I showed her what I had it "narrowed down" to, and then I proceeded to talk a bit about each one, in terms that she (hopefully) could understand. I even had another customer (actually 2-3) asking me about computers, having me compare them, and giving them my opinion on different models. I guess I sounded like I knew what I was talking about (ha! No really, I do know a little bit about computers...). My mom was happy with her choice, and we made the purchases. While checking out our items, the salesman talked up the headphones I had picked out. He said that he had a pair, and loved them, and gave me a few "start up" tips and so on. I appreciated his advice; however, my mom had already told me that I'd have to wait until my birthday to get them. Actually, she wants to have a "party" in the suburbs the weekend following my birthday, and I'd have to wait until that time (or so I assumed, as I won't be traveling out there before that time). So, I politely thanked the man, and told him that I'd definitely take his advice--in four weeks, after I obtained the headphones. He looked at me strangely. I explained that they were a birthday present. He pretended to understand, and wished me the best.
On the way home, things took a turn for the worse. My mom started berating me for how ungrateful I am. "You have everything you want, and you can't even wait a few weeks so that I have something to wrap for your birthday? You think you should have this now? What have you done to deserve this?" I choked back the angry tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
Well, let's see, Mommy dearest. This weekend I:
-made a trip to the suburbs in rush-hour traffic, because it fit YOUR schedule.
-ordered $240 worth of textbooks, without you pre-paying me, and saved you about $200 in the process.
-cleaned my turtle's tank, bought new litter, and rearranged things so that he doesn't smell (something my parents promised to do when I moved out...).
-wrote an entire assignment that I will NOT get credit for, and helped you submit it minutes before the deadline.
-let you use my computer, so that you'd even get the stupid assignment submitted on time.
-sewed your son's shoes back together, so he can continue wearing them (they've only been broke for three months now...).
-looked through over 20 laptop models, and did a price/quality analysis, so that you could get the best deal for the money you were willing to spend.
-spent 2+ hours downloading and installing everything you needed on your computer, and even tried to provide over the phone support once I left/was on my way home.
-did NOT ask you once for money for food, pet supplies, or anything.
And I don't deserve anything? Do you know that the entire weekend, she didn't even thank me for my help, not once?! She did call me ungrateful about 20 times though, because I wanted to take my birthday present home three weeks early. Because in those three (four) weeks, I'll actually have a long commute to work, and one of my earbuds blew out this week; travelling on the el without headphones is pretty much hell, especially the 1.25 hours it takes me to get to work (and back). Basically, by the time I get my birthday present, it'll be time for school to start, and (though I'll still use them a lot!) I won't get a "marathon" listening session like I would if I were to take them on the el. I tried to point this out, but apparently this made me even more ungrateful.
It's like I can't win with the woman. All I did this weekend is give--give to her, give to my dad, give to my brother--and she couldn't even do one favor in return for me! Once I left with my dad to come back to my house, she started talking about me behind my back, to my brother. She was definitely talking smack, and Doug would not have it! (Man, I love that kid. He truly has my back). She started in on how ungrateful I was for "everything", and my brother wouldn't have it! He looked her in the eye, and said, "She worked for you all weekend, she doesn't have her birthday present yet, and she's not 21, what exactly should she be grateful for right now?" and he's absolutely right! My mom then turned and yelled at him, but he stood his ground and backed me up across the board.
So now let me ask, who's the ungrateful one? Yes, I know my mom has it hard, I know that she thinks her life sucks...but if she'd look past the end of her nose she might be able to see that she's making the rest of us miserable!
I know I take advantage of people sometimes (I think we all do), but I try to always keep myself in check a bit (quite a bit) better than that. I guess now I wait for the "birthday faerie" to decide to bring me my present...
"At least you have something to look forward to"...you ungrateful bitch.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Goodbye, Goodnight
I just got home from a goodbye/going away party.
I know, I know, I should be "used to" friends moving away, with college and everything, but I can honestly say that this person moving away is really getting to me.
I'm actually losing two really important people in the next few weeks. Joel, a tutor at Family Matters, is moving to the east coast on Monday. And, my coworker/boss/friend Jenn is moving to West Virginia mid-August. I'm sure I'll blog again closer to when Jenn leaves...so tonight I'm going to focus on Joel.
Joel is the tutor I have always wanted. Haha, that sounds strange, I know, but I don't think I could sincerely ask for a better tutor than Joel.
I remember the first time I ever met Joel--he seemed different: nervous, intimidated, but eager to help at the same time. I met him quickly, and threw him into a room with his student. Joel had a particularly hard role to fill-he was taking the place of a tutor who had to leave suddenly. Joel was definitely up to the task, though I had my doubts at first. He checked in with me several times without his tutoring session--I was as encouraging as possible. After a few sessions, he and his student started to bond a bit more (I mean, as much as a 30something year old male tutor can bond with a 12-13 year old teen boy).
Both Joel and his student appear quiet to the outsider. They seem shy, maybe, or just...different. Looking back, I don't think we've paired a pair (haha English, I hate you!) better than Joel and his student. They were both procrastinators that realized the value in doing hard work to get yourself somewhere in life. Joel could follow a lesson plan to a tee, but he also knew how improvise when needed. Joel was also usually the first tutor to submit comments and recommendations to me for the following week's planning. Joel stayed on task, and on schedule. He let me know weeks ahead of time if he had to miss a tutoring session, and would reschedule on another night (convenient for both him and his student). Joel grew a lot as a tutor, and a person, during his time at Family Matters. When he saw how tight-knit a community we had the opportunity to be, he went out of his way to re-organize "Morseland nights" to try to build relationships between tutors. I can truly say that some of the best nights I've had have been spent with the Family Matters crew: Me, Joel, Jenn, Gretchen, Brad, (and later) Christian and Bridget.
Being at Family Matters, and with this crew especially, makes me feel at home. Even this summer, we had a great time playing frisbee (despite the fact that the first time we played, my hand turned black and blue and swelled up like a mofo! Excuse my French...), going out for food (and drinks), and tonight, at Joel's going away party. Tonight, I hadn't seen Gretchen, Christian, Bridget, and Joel in a long time, but we caught up quickly and enjoyed hours of conversation (and food and drinks...see the pattern here...hah). Gretchen and Bridget both gave me a big hug (Lana! How are you! We've missed you!) and Christian and Joel gave me the one armed "hey what's up" squeeze. It was so good to see them... I've spent most of my summer working, or waiting for people to get back to me on hanging out... and I guess I forgot how much I missed spending time to them, and how much it means to me to have such a cool group of people around. They even asked about the guy I was dating the last time we saw each other...which was a really nice touch, one that I appreciated greatly. It's one thing to ask about me--they know me--but to remember to ask about someone they've only met a time or two--well, it shows how much they truly care.
Wow, amazing how I went from singing Joel's praises to singing the crew's praises. I think that's mostly because I see us as a unit--a piece of which is moving away bright and early Monday morning.
I'm still sad--I don't know if I'll ever see Joel again. Isn't that crazy? We don't think about this too often, but "each time" you see someone could be your last. I didn't think that the last time I saw my poppy (Father's Day) would be the last...and alas, it was. I don't know which is better--not knowing, like with Poppy, or knowing--like with Joel. I can't guarantee I'll ever see him again, and I can't guarantee I won't, either. I do know that I'll always hold him in high esteem; a person like Joel is not easily forgotten.
The song that comes to mind most when I think about people leaving (especially people that have significantly impacted my life) is this one: here, "For Good" from Wicked.
"It well may be that we may never meet again, in this lifetime, so let me say before we part. So much of me is made from what I've learned from you. You'll be with me, like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine, by being my friend."
Goodnight, and goodbye, Joel. You've been a true friend, an amazing tutor, and an excellent role model. May you encounter only the best on the east coast.
I know, I know, I should be "used to" friends moving away, with college and everything, but I can honestly say that this person moving away is really getting to me.
I'm actually losing two really important people in the next few weeks. Joel, a tutor at Family Matters, is moving to the east coast on Monday. And, my coworker/boss/friend Jenn is moving to West Virginia mid-August. I'm sure I'll blog again closer to when Jenn leaves...so tonight I'm going to focus on Joel.
Joel is the tutor I have always wanted. Haha, that sounds strange, I know, but I don't think I could sincerely ask for a better tutor than Joel.
I remember the first time I ever met Joel--he seemed different: nervous, intimidated, but eager to help at the same time. I met him quickly, and threw him into a room with his student. Joel had a particularly hard role to fill-he was taking the place of a tutor who had to leave suddenly. Joel was definitely up to the task, though I had my doubts at first. He checked in with me several times without his tutoring session--I was as encouraging as possible. After a few sessions, he and his student started to bond a bit more (I mean, as much as a 30something year old male tutor can bond with a 12-13 year old teen boy).
Both Joel and his student appear quiet to the outsider. They seem shy, maybe, or just...different. Looking back, I don't think we've paired a pair (haha English, I hate you!) better than Joel and his student. They were both procrastinators that realized the value in doing hard work to get yourself somewhere in life. Joel could follow a lesson plan to a tee, but he also knew how improvise when needed. Joel was also usually the first tutor to submit comments and recommendations to me for the following week's planning. Joel stayed on task, and on schedule. He let me know weeks ahead of time if he had to miss a tutoring session, and would reschedule on another night (convenient for both him and his student). Joel grew a lot as a tutor, and a person, during his time at Family Matters. When he saw how tight-knit a community we had the opportunity to be, he went out of his way to re-organize "Morseland nights" to try to build relationships between tutors. I can truly say that some of the best nights I've had have been spent with the Family Matters crew: Me, Joel, Jenn, Gretchen, Brad, (and later) Christian and Bridget.
Being at Family Matters, and with this crew especially, makes me feel at home. Even this summer, we had a great time playing frisbee (despite the fact that the first time we played, my hand turned black and blue and swelled up like a mofo! Excuse my French...), going out for food (and drinks), and tonight, at Joel's going away party. Tonight, I hadn't seen Gretchen, Christian, Bridget, and Joel in a long time, but we caught up quickly and enjoyed hours of conversation (and food and drinks...see the pattern here...hah). Gretchen and Bridget both gave me a big hug (Lana! How are you! We've missed you!) and Christian and Joel gave me the one armed "hey what's up" squeeze. It was so good to see them... I've spent most of my summer working, or waiting for people to get back to me on hanging out... and I guess I forgot how much I missed spending time to them, and how much it means to me to have such a cool group of people around. They even asked about the guy I was dating the last time we saw each other...which was a really nice touch, one that I appreciated greatly. It's one thing to ask about me--they know me--but to remember to ask about someone they've only met a time or two--well, it shows how much they truly care.
Wow, amazing how I went from singing Joel's praises to singing the crew's praises. I think that's mostly because I see us as a unit--a piece of which is moving away bright and early Monday morning.
I'm still sad--I don't know if I'll ever see Joel again. Isn't that crazy? We don't think about this too often, but "each time" you see someone could be your last. I didn't think that the last time I saw my poppy (Father's Day) would be the last...and alas, it was. I don't know which is better--not knowing, like with Poppy, or knowing--like with Joel. I can't guarantee I'll ever see him again, and I can't guarantee I won't, either. I do know that I'll always hold him in high esteem; a person like Joel is not easily forgotten.
The song that comes to mind most when I think about people leaving (especially people that have significantly impacted my life) is this one: here, "For Good" from Wicked.
"It well may be that we may never meet again, in this lifetime, so let me say before we part. So much of me is made from what I've learned from you. You'll be with me, like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine, by being my friend."
Goodnight, and goodbye, Joel. You've been a true friend, an amazing tutor, and an excellent role model. May you encounter only the best on the east coast.
Monday, July 25, 2011
failure.
For those of you who know me, and know me well, you'll know that I hate failure with a passion. I use the word "hate" sparingly, and I can honestly say that failure is one of the things that truly boils my blood. Due to this fact, I avoid failure at all costs, sometimes pushing myself beyond reasonable means to achieve success. Some call it crazy; I call it driven. At any rate, knowing and recalling that piece of information about me will help you understand this post all the better.
Saturday morning rolled around all too early, and I awoke to the 'ding' of my phone going off. I had received a text message. "Woo!" I thought to myself, "maybe someone's asking if I'm free today! If so, the answer is yes!" I half begrudgingly, half excitedly rolled over to grab my phone off the nightstand. I opened up the text message and read: "Laptop has hardware error! Crap!" The message was from my mother. At this point, I was a little peeved. She hadn't texted me in days, much less called to check in on me. And then, she wakes me up on Saturday morning, before my alarm, with a problem? Ugh. Trying to lighten the mood, I sent her a message back saying "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?"
Not minutes later, I had a response back that read: "Call me on house phone!" Yes, ma'am? I'm sorry, I don't take orders pre-wake up on Saturdays! I slowly returned her message, asking for a minute to wake up before I called. I quickly got up, used the bathroom, and grabbed a glass of water. I headed back to my room, where the temperature is much more bearable, and dialed the age-old number. The phone rang once; on the second ring, my mother answered it. "Hellowehaveaproblem" was how I was greeted. I had her talk me through it, and assumed she was getting the "black screen of death" (similar to the blue screen of death).
She described the problem as "a white screen turning into black, with a blob that grows." Now, I'm not sure how you, reader, describe computer problems, but in case you were curious: this is not an effective way to describe a problem. Again, this pointed to black screen of death. I have in my possession a Windows Vista install CD, as well as Microsoft Office 2007. It's not the newest software, but it is what my mom's computer has installed currently.
I looked at my options.
This upcoming week is my mom's last week of school. She needs her computer to finish up her class work; as a college student, I understand this better than anyone. I could a) be a bitch, and say "wow, how unfortunate! That really sucks, and good luck getting your work done. Or, I could pick option b) I could quickly dress, head out to the suburbs (via train), and wipe the computer clean--reinstalling all of the programs and such. I offered her the latter, and she agreed. I could tell she was desperate.
At the time, the following phrase flashed through my mind: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I've never really liked this phrase, and so in my life, I've often substituted it with "Do unto others as you see fit; let everything you do reflect the most you can do." Ok, so it doesn't sound quite as good as the original, but it reflects my views on how I treat others a lot better than the original phrase does.
I boarded the Metra just over an hour later, and by early afternoon I was eating lunch in a south suburb. After lunch, I decided to take a look at the computer. This is what I saw:
Uh oh. Not quite what I had expected. If you remember the description from earlier, the one I had criticized so harshly...well, it fit the bill, that's for sure! Clearly, this was not the typical "Uh oh, Windows broke..." error. I did a double, triple, and then quadruple take. Then, I began what every good computer technician does when he or she is in above his or her head...I started to google.
I found out that nVidia made the video chip residing in the laptop. I also read up on the million dollar suits against nVidia for manufacturing faulty chips! Uh oh, I thought, I might be in over my head. I decided that my next step would be to clean out the fan. Maybe the computer was just overheating, and that's what was causing the faulty monitor. I popped open the back of the computer, and found a load of dust, dirt and lint! Ew! I got out the vacuum (haha!) and my dad helped me vacuum out the computer. This is some of what we pulled out:
I put everything back together, plugged everything in and...voila! Not a thing happened. I sighed deeply. I consulted with a computer-science friend, and he said that my problem was one of two things:
1. The video chip malfunctioned.
2. The monitor malfunctioned.
To test this, I took an external monitor, from the old desktop, and plugged it into the computer. I expected it to do one of two things. Either it would show me Windows starting up (indicating just the monitor on the laptop was bad), or it would show me the same white/black screen (indicating the video chip was bad). Unfortunately, neither of those things happened. Ugh! What the hell was going on? I wondered. The external monitor didn't even seem to pick up a signal from the laptop.
I talked to yet another computer-science friend (how lucky I am to have smart friends!) and he said it was likely the video chip, and nothing could be done.
However, the first friend recommended a process called "tealighting." I thought this sounded sketchy, and it is! Basically, what you do is find the video card/chip in your computer, and then light a tealight candle (the kind that sits in a small metal cup). Then, you put the candle on top of the video card, and let it burn all the way through, until all the wax is melted. This is supposed to reflow the chip and has worked for some people to get the video card to work.
Well, last ditch effort, here it is! I performed a google search (several, actually) to find tear downs of my mom's laptop, and located the video-board. Getting to this item required a complete tear down of the computer...much past what most tutorials recommended. However, I accepted the challenge. Here are a few of the steps I remembered to photograph:
Finally, I found that for which I was looking! Here it is!
Finally! It had taken me nearly two (if not more) hours to tear down the computer, and I was very relieved to finally have the correct piece exposed so I could begin the tealighting process. I found a candle (thank goodness my mother has a ton of them!) and set it up. I told my mom and brother that I felt like I was in church, lighting a candle for the computer, and I should probably say a prayer. I made the sign of the cross backwards, and with my left hand (a sign if irreverence if ever there were one) and everyone laughed. We lit the candle, and then waited. Here's what we were looking at!
I sent the above picture to my friend, who had recommended the tealighting process, and all of a sudden got a frantic instant message back that said "Uhmmm Lana, I think you have it in the wrong place!"
Oh. Shit.
You see, I had completely flubbed up. I successfully located the S-Video board. This is NOT the same thing as the video chip/card, which runs the graphics on your computer. The S-Video board is for the connector cable that can run from your TV to your computer. You know, the one that we've never used? Yep, that one. I tore down an entire computer only to find the wrong thing.
Begrudgingly, I blew out the candle, and asked where exactly the correct video chip would be. I found it here:
Of the three "squares" that you can see in that image, the video card is the one all the way to the right. It was actually right under the fan, this thing:
I had removed this hours before, and it's very easy to access. This was the video card the candle must affect.
How could I be so stupid? I spent hours tearing apart an entire computer, only to find out that the part I was looking for was near the top all along! I have never felt so stupid. I mean, I recognized the fact that I have never taken any formal computer classes, and quite a few people would have probably said "fuck it" and not even attempted to fix it; however, I'm not one of those people. Great, I thought, now even if the tealighting does work, I likely won't be able to get it back together!
I sat in fury while I watched the candle burn. The candle almost represented how I felt. I had started out a strong, solid candle, and working on this computer consumed me (as the fire was consuming the wick and wax of the candle) and I was burning down to the bottom. My solid confidence had melted and liquified, and was in great danger of spilling out at the slightest provocation. I was furious with myself; I had only myself to blame for the error, and took full responsibility for it.
At last, the candle burned out, and I removed it from the video chip. I began the reassembly of the rest of the computer, reconnecting wires and the like, until I had everything placed in nearly the same fashion in which it started. I crossed my fingers the entire time (figuratively, of course--crossing them literally would have made my already impossible job even more impossible!) and hoped for the best.
I had to wait until later on Sunday to put the rest back together, because I needed to go buy thermal paste to go between the video chip (and cpu and the other "square") and the heatsink. I act like I actually know what I'm talking about--I don't. I do know that silver conducts heat, and we wanted to put silver in between those two things so that the heat could successfully be vented out of the computer. Beyond that, I'm clueless.
I think the worst part about this not working is that my mom, and the rest of my family, put their faith in me; I proceeded to let them down. The part that's "even worse" is that I put my faith in myself...and I still failed.
After we went to Radioshack (woo!), I came home, applied the silver paste, and finished up the final touches on getting the computer back together. Surprisingly (sort of), it looked like ... a computer! Ta-daa! I had it all put back together. I turned it on (and breathed a deep sigh of relief that all of the LED lights aligned...) and waited with bated breath.
The "engine" whirred, and the fans came on. The "doot doot doot" sounded aaaaand...the screen turned white.
Then, slowly, the screen faded to black.
I had successfully restored the computer back to the condition in which I found it.
Sigh. Deep sigh. Bite tongue. Don't cry. Blink blink blink. Clench teeth. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Lick lips. Go back to clenching teeth cause here come the tears. Blink blink. Don't look at them or you'll burst into tears. Try ctrl+alt+del and see if it changes anything. It doesn't. You knew it wouldn't. Lick the roof of your mouth. Swallow. They're waiting for you. You have to tell them everything. What do you say? You're the one looking at the screen stupid. They're figuring it out.
"What's going on, Lana? Does it work? It's okay if it doesn't, you tried your best..."
Yeah. My best. But what happens when your best isn't good enough? I tried and I failed. And, because I couldn't fix the computer, now my family is basically computer-less, and they watched me try and fail. My family is not used to seeing me fail--they're used to success, and being able to celebrate me. And, in cases like this, they're used to benefiting from my success.
But that didn't happen.
I looked up to my mom with the most deeply apologetic eyes I could muster. "I'm sorry, Mom. I couldn't...it just didn't... It's not fixed."
"It's ok, Lana. You tried, I saw you try. You didn't give up, when a lot of others would have. And, you saved me a lot of money by looking at this at home rather than having me take it into a shop. I appreciate all of your time and hard work."
Breathe.
I saw Harry Potter 7.2 on Sunday with my brother. One of the lines that I wanted to share here, I can't remember, but another one I can. Dumbledore said this to Harry during Harry's dream sequence/trippy moment. He said something to the effect of "It is our choices, not our abilities, that define us."
Wow. Stop. Take a step back. I finally got what my mom said (and always has said) about "trying your best." It's poorly worded, as it is: trying your best. But, I finally understood that making the choice to try is what defines you, not the ability to succeed in whatever you decide to do.
Talk about being hit with a ton of bricks.
All my life I've depended on success in carrying out my decisions. I pride myself on being decisive, knowing what I want, and knowing how to succeed. I do my best for both others and myself. And just then, for a quick moment, with this computer in front of me and my family encircling me, I realized that making the choice to help meant far more to them than any functional computer I could have given them.
This is what I learned this weekend. I hope I can keep this thought alive in the back of my mind in the future. :) I guess sometimes it is true, what "they" say: you learn the most from your failure.
Peace, until next time.
Saturday morning rolled around all too early, and I awoke to the 'ding' of my phone going off. I had received a text message. "Woo!" I thought to myself, "maybe someone's asking if I'm free today! If so, the answer is yes!" I half begrudgingly, half excitedly rolled over to grab my phone off the nightstand. I opened up the text message and read: "Laptop has hardware error! Crap!" The message was from my mother. At this point, I was a little peeved. She hadn't texted me in days, much less called to check in on me. And then, she wakes me up on Saturday morning, before my alarm, with a problem? Ugh. Trying to lighten the mood, I sent her a message back saying "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?"
Not minutes later, I had a response back that read: "Call me on house phone!" Yes, ma'am? I'm sorry, I don't take orders pre-wake up on Saturdays! I slowly returned her message, asking for a minute to wake up before I called. I quickly got up, used the bathroom, and grabbed a glass of water. I headed back to my room, where the temperature is much more bearable, and dialed the age-old number. The phone rang once; on the second ring, my mother answered it. "Hellowehaveaproblem" was how I was greeted. I had her talk me through it, and assumed she was getting the "black screen of death" (similar to the blue screen of death).
She described the problem as "a white screen turning into black, with a blob that grows." Now, I'm not sure how you, reader, describe computer problems, but in case you were curious: this is not an effective way to describe a problem. Again, this pointed to black screen of death. I have in my possession a Windows Vista install CD, as well as Microsoft Office 2007. It's not the newest software, but it is what my mom's computer has installed currently.
I looked at my options.
This upcoming week is my mom's last week of school. She needs her computer to finish up her class work; as a college student, I understand this better than anyone. I could a) be a bitch, and say "wow, how unfortunate! That really sucks, and good luck getting your work done. Or, I could pick option b) I could quickly dress, head out to the suburbs (via train), and wipe the computer clean--reinstalling all of the programs and such. I offered her the latter, and she agreed. I could tell she was desperate.
At the time, the following phrase flashed through my mind: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I've never really liked this phrase, and so in my life, I've often substituted it with "Do unto others as you see fit; let everything you do reflect the most you can do." Ok, so it doesn't sound quite as good as the original, but it reflects my views on how I treat others a lot better than the original phrase does.
I boarded the Metra just over an hour later, and by early afternoon I was eating lunch in a south suburb. After lunch, I decided to take a look at the computer. This is what I saw:
Uh oh. Not quite what I had expected. If you remember the description from earlier, the one I had criticized so harshly...well, it fit the bill, that's for sure! Clearly, this was not the typical "Uh oh, Windows broke..." error. I did a double, triple, and then quadruple take. Then, I began what every good computer technician does when he or she is in above his or her head...I started to google.
I found out that nVidia made the video chip residing in the laptop. I also read up on the million dollar suits against nVidia for manufacturing faulty chips! Uh oh, I thought, I might be in over my head. I decided that my next step would be to clean out the fan. Maybe the computer was just overheating, and that's what was causing the faulty monitor. I popped open the back of the computer, and found a load of dust, dirt and lint! Ew! I got out the vacuum (haha!) and my dad helped me vacuum out the computer. This is some of what we pulled out:
I put everything back together, plugged everything in and...voila! Not a thing happened. I sighed deeply. I consulted with a computer-science friend, and he said that my problem was one of two things:
1. The video chip malfunctioned.
2. The monitor malfunctioned.
To test this, I took an external monitor, from the old desktop, and plugged it into the computer. I expected it to do one of two things. Either it would show me Windows starting up (indicating just the monitor on the laptop was bad), or it would show me the same white/black screen (indicating the video chip was bad). Unfortunately, neither of those things happened. Ugh! What the hell was going on? I wondered. The external monitor didn't even seem to pick up a signal from the laptop.
I talked to yet another computer-science friend (how lucky I am to have smart friends!) and he said it was likely the video chip, and nothing could be done.
However, the first friend recommended a process called "tealighting." I thought this sounded sketchy, and it is! Basically, what you do is find the video card/chip in your computer, and then light a tealight candle (the kind that sits in a small metal cup). Then, you put the candle on top of the video card, and let it burn all the way through, until all the wax is melted. This is supposed to reflow the chip and has worked for some people to get the video card to work.
Well, last ditch effort, here it is! I performed a google search (several, actually) to find tear downs of my mom's laptop, and located the video-board. Getting to this item required a complete tear down of the computer...much past what most tutorials recommended. However, I accepted the challenge. Here are a few of the steps I remembered to photograph:
Finally, I found that for which I was looking! Here it is!
Finally! It had taken me nearly two (if not more) hours to tear down the computer, and I was very relieved to finally have the correct piece exposed so I could begin the tealighting process. I found a candle (thank goodness my mother has a ton of them!) and set it up. I told my mom and brother that I felt like I was in church, lighting a candle for the computer, and I should probably say a prayer. I made the sign of the cross backwards, and with my left hand (a sign if irreverence if ever there were one) and everyone laughed. We lit the candle, and then waited. Here's what we were looking at!
I sent the above picture to my friend, who had recommended the tealighting process, and all of a sudden got a frantic instant message back that said "Uhmmm Lana, I think you have it in the wrong place!"
Oh. Shit.
You see, I had completely flubbed up. I successfully located the S-Video board. This is NOT the same thing as the video chip/card, which runs the graphics on your computer. The S-Video board is for the connector cable that can run from your TV to your computer. You know, the one that we've never used? Yep, that one. I tore down an entire computer only to find the wrong thing.
Begrudgingly, I blew out the candle, and asked where exactly the correct video chip would be. I found it here:
Of the three "squares" that you can see in that image, the video card is the one all the way to the right. It was actually right under the fan, this thing:
I had removed this hours before, and it's very easy to access. This was the video card the candle must affect.
How could I be so stupid? I spent hours tearing apart an entire computer, only to find out that the part I was looking for was near the top all along! I have never felt so stupid. I mean, I recognized the fact that I have never taken any formal computer classes, and quite a few people would have probably said "fuck it" and not even attempted to fix it; however, I'm not one of those people. Great, I thought, now even if the tealighting does work, I likely won't be able to get it back together!
I sat in fury while I watched the candle burn. The candle almost represented how I felt. I had started out a strong, solid candle, and working on this computer consumed me (as the fire was consuming the wick and wax of the candle) and I was burning down to the bottom. My solid confidence had melted and liquified, and was in great danger of spilling out at the slightest provocation. I was furious with myself; I had only myself to blame for the error, and took full responsibility for it.
At last, the candle burned out, and I removed it from the video chip. I began the reassembly of the rest of the computer, reconnecting wires and the like, until I had everything placed in nearly the same fashion in which it started. I crossed my fingers the entire time (figuratively, of course--crossing them literally would have made my already impossible job even more impossible!) and hoped for the best.
I had to wait until later on Sunday to put the rest back together, because I needed to go buy thermal paste to go between the video chip (and cpu and the other "square") and the heatsink. I act like I actually know what I'm talking about--I don't. I do know that silver conducts heat, and we wanted to put silver in between those two things so that the heat could successfully be vented out of the computer. Beyond that, I'm clueless.
I think the worst part about this not working is that my mom, and the rest of my family, put their faith in me; I proceeded to let them down. The part that's "even worse" is that I put my faith in myself...and I still failed.
After we went to Radioshack (woo!), I came home, applied the silver paste, and finished up the final touches on getting the computer back together. Surprisingly (sort of), it looked like ... a computer! Ta-daa! I had it all put back together. I turned it on (and breathed a deep sigh of relief that all of the LED lights aligned...) and waited with bated breath.
The "engine" whirred, and the fans came on. The "doot doot doot" sounded aaaaand...the screen turned white.
Then, slowly, the screen faded to black.
I had successfully restored the computer back to the condition in which I found it.
Sigh. Deep sigh. Bite tongue. Don't cry. Blink blink blink. Clench teeth. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Lick lips. Go back to clenching teeth cause here come the tears. Blink blink. Don't look at them or you'll burst into tears. Try ctrl+alt+del and see if it changes anything. It doesn't. You knew it wouldn't. Lick the roof of your mouth. Swallow. They're waiting for you. You have to tell them everything. What do you say? You're the one looking at the screen stupid. They're figuring it out.
"What's going on, Lana? Does it work? It's okay if it doesn't, you tried your best..."
Yeah. My best. But what happens when your best isn't good enough? I tried and I failed. And, because I couldn't fix the computer, now my family is basically computer-less, and they watched me try and fail. My family is not used to seeing me fail--they're used to success, and being able to celebrate me. And, in cases like this, they're used to benefiting from my success.
But that didn't happen.
I looked up to my mom with the most deeply apologetic eyes I could muster. "I'm sorry, Mom. I couldn't...it just didn't... It's not fixed."
"It's ok, Lana. You tried, I saw you try. You didn't give up, when a lot of others would have. And, you saved me a lot of money by looking at this at home rather than having me take it into a shop. I appreciate all of your time and hard work."
Breathe.
I saw Harry Potter 7.2 on Sunday with my brother. One of the lines that I wanted to share here, I can't remember, but another one I can. Dumbledore said this to Harry during Harry's dream sequence/trippy moment. He said something to the effect of "It is our choices, not our abilities, that define us."
Wow. Stop. Take a step back. I finally got what my mom said (and always has said) about "trying your best." It's poorly worded, as it is: trying your best. But, I finally understood that making the choice to try is what defines you, not the ability to succeed in whatever you decide to do.
Talk about being hit with a ton of bricks.
All my life I've depended on success in carrying out my decisions. I pride myself on being decisive, knowing what I want, and knowing how to succeed. I do my best for both others and myself. And just then, for a quick moment, with this computer in front of me and my family encircling me, I realized that making the choice to help meant far more to them than any functional computer I could have given them.
This is what I learned this weekend. I hope I can keep this thought alive in the back of my mind in the future. :) I guess sometimes it is true, what "they" say: you learn the most from your failure.
Peace, until next time.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
I may not be Einstein, but...
Today, I learned something, and I thought I'd share it with you all! Of course, I can't really tell you this without telling you the story behind it, so bear with me. I'll try to make it as interesting as possible. :)
Today I was talking to my mom, and we got on the subject of finances. I told her I was trying to dig myself out of the hole that the month of May left me in, and she responded by saying she wanted to help me out during my student teaching. My mom knows that I can't/won't usually take financial help from them--they have enough of their own issues--but she did insist on helping me during student teaching. That will be great, seeing as I'll be teaching all day every day from September through December, and not getting paid a dime. As a side note, my mom also had to quit her job during HER student teaching (way back in the 70s). I won't be "quitting" mine all together, but I will be restricted to night/weekend hours, and that will majorly limit the amount of money I can actually make.
ANYWAYS. The point came up that I have a bit of credit card debt to pay off, and my mom started in on her rant about how "awful" credit cards are, and how they snowball, and how I'm getting myself into serious trouble. My mom had to watch my dad declare bankruptcy in the 70s because of his immature misuse of money, and she doesn't want me to do the same. My dad didn't make enough money to pay the minimum payments on his credit card(s), so he defaulted. Since then, both of my parents have been very anti-credit card people.
I must say, not having a credit card (and therefore no credit score) has screwed me over in some major ways. My interest rate on my student loan (taken out freshman year) is astronomical. My sophomore year included me being denied a student loan (because of lack of credit) and almost having to drop out of school. Thankfully, I got my act together and now I have two credit cards, which I use regularly and also pay off (or at least make payments towards) regularly. I've been very responsible with them, and I have never tried to go over the credit limit, nor have I been late with my payments. I'm trying to build myself a good credit score so that I have half a chance at financing anything in my future.
Well, today I decided (for once) that forfeiting the fight (aka listening to my mother complain about my credit card use) was worth more than fighting about it, so I listened to her constant warnings about how much debt I'd be in. She brought up the interest rate on the card, which she said must be close to 30%. Okay, THAT I could not take, so I corrected her in saying it was only 18%, thank you very much. She moaned that that is still "way too high," and that I'll end up "in serious trouble soon enough." I realized at this point that I realistically have no idea how my credit card interest rate works. I mean, I have only ever been charged $5-15 in interest charges per month--for the amount that I owe/have owed them, I definitely didn't see how that was 18%! I expressed this to my mom, who said, "Oh, they must be calculating it wrong." I went on to tell her that what I'm charged each month is only ever a little over 1% of what I actually owe. She told me that a) I'm crazy, b) I must be reading the bill wrong, and c) she's sure they're charging me 18% of what I owe each month.
But that doesn't really happen.
Upon getting off the phone with my mom, I became more and more curious as to what I actually DO pay each month! I logged into my (hopefully secure) accounts online and found the information--just as I had recalled. "Ok," I told myself, "there is something here that you're STILL not getting! Figure it out, dummy!" At that opportune moment, my roommate walked into my room. For those of you who know my roommate, you know that he's close to godly in most things math and science related (and if he's not, he sure does maintain the image well). Anyway, I expressed my concern, and he quickly said, "The 18%, that is APR, right?" "Yeah," I replied.
"Do you know what the A in APR stands for?" he asked me.
"Annual!" I replied happily! I still didn't get it though...
He looked at me for another moment, and said, "Think about what you told me. You pay a little over 1% each month. What's 18/12?"
"1.5!" I replied. And then it hit me.
If you already know how this works, or figured it out before this part of the story, I apologize. My brain clearly seemed to be switched to "off." Finally, it turned on!
OH I TOTALLY GET IT NOW! I exclaimed.
Sigh. In case you didn't follow, the 18% is distributed throughout each month of the year. So, you never pay 18% of what you owe any given month; rather, the interest is calculated in such a way so that over the course of a year, you'll pay about 18% of what you owed, on average. (Ok, please excuse my non-math terms, but that's how a non-finance person would understand it.) You can actually read all about it here. Just like I did! They offer a cute little formula (ha ha) to help you figure it out. Basically, this is what did it for me:
So, the system does NOT work in the following way: I owe x. After month one, I owe 1.1825x. After month two, I owe 1.1825(1.1825x) and so on! That's crazy and I'd owe tens of thousands of dollars by now!
And all of this, this discovery, led me to recall one important quotation that I heard a long time. It was said by the dear old Albert Einstein, proclaimed math and science genius. He said, "If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts." Well, I don't know how things worked in Mr. Einstein's world, but I don't think that's how things work here. Take this as an example. My mom's theory was that I paid 18% of my debt, plus a minimum payment, each month. The facts (what I'm actually charged) didn't fit her theory. So, she tried to change the facts, saying that I was reading the bill incorrectly, or the company was miscalculating (something I think Visa rarely does, ya know), but guess what?
The facts don't change.
And I think there's an important lesson that one can take away from this encounter (or at least I am doing so). Sometimes, you just have to admit when you're wrong, and change your way of thinking. Not everything works the way you want it to; sometimes, you make a decision based on a theory you have, and the facts just don't seem to agree, so you have to go back and modify that decision, or change it entirely. I think that's so important to keep in mind when trying to figure out "what to do" in life--you can't always change the facts, but you can change the way you think.
Until next time. :)
Today I was talking to my mom, and we got on the subject of finances. I told her I was trying to dig myself out of the hole that the month of May left me in, and she responded by saying she wanted to help me out during my student teaching. My mom knows that I can't/won't usually take financial help from them--they have enough of their own issues--but she did insist on helping me during student teaching. That will be great, seeing as I'll be teaching all day every day from September through December, and not getting paid a dime. As a side note, my mom also had to quit her job during HER student teaching (way back in the 70s). I won't be "quitting" mine all together, but I will be restricted to night/weekend hours, and that will majorly limit the amount of money I can actually make.
ANYWAYS. The point came up that I have a bit of credit card debt to pay off, and my mom started in on her rant about how "awful" credit cards are, and how they snowball, and how I'm getting myself into serious trouble. My mom had to watch my dad declare bankruptcy in the 70s because of his immature misuse of money, and she doesn't want me to do the same. My dad didn't make enough money to pay the minimum payments on his credit card(s), so he defaulted. Since then, both of my parents have been very anti-credit card people.
I must say, not having a credit card (and therefore no credit score) has screwed me over in some major ways. My interest rate on my student loan (taken out freshman year) is astronomical. My sophomore year included me being denied a student loan (because of lack of credit) and almost having to drop out of school. Thankfully, I got my act together and now I have two credit cards, which I use regularly and also pay off (or at least make payments towards) regularly. I've been very responsible with them, and I have never tried to go over the credit limit, nor have I been late with my payments. I'm trying to build myself a good credit score so that I have half a chance at financing anything in my future.
Well, today I decided (for once) that forfeiting the fight (aka listening to my mother complain about my credit card use) was worth more than fighting about it, so I listened to her constant warnings about how much debt I'd be in. She brought up the interest rate on the card, which she said must be close to 30%. Okay, THAT I could not take, so I corrected her in saying it was only 18%, thank you very much. She moaned that that is still "way too high," and that I'll end up "in serious trouble soon enough." I realized at this point that I realistically have no idea how my credit card interest rate works. I mean, I have only ever been charged $5-15 in interest charges per month--for the amount that I owe/have owed them, I definitely didn't see how that was 18%! I expressed this to my mom, who said, "Oh, they must be calculating it wrong." I went on to tell her that what I'm charged each month is only ever a little over 1% of what I actually owe. She told me that a) I'm crazy, b) I must be reading the bill wrong, and c) she's sure they're charging me 18% of what I owe each month.
But that doesn't really happen.
Upon getting off the phone with my mom, I became more and more curious as to what I actually DO pay each month! I logged into my (hopefully secure) accounts online and found the information--just as I had recalled. "Ok," I told myself, "there is something here that you're STILL not getting! Figure it out, dummy!" At that opportune moment, my roommate walked into my room. For those of you who know my roommate, you know that he's close to godly in most things math and science related (and if he's not, he sure does maintain the image well). Anyway, I expressed my concern, and he quickly said, "The 18%, that is APR, right?" "Yeah," I replied.
"Do you know what the A in APR stands for?" he asked me.
"Annual!" I replied happily! I still didn't get it though...
He looked at me for another moment, and said, "Think about what you told me. You pay a little over 1% each month. What's 18/12?"
"1.5!" I replied. And then it hit me.
If you already know how this works, or figured it out before this part of the story, I apologize. My brain clearly seemed to be switched to "off." Finally, it turned on!
OH I TOTALLY GET IT NOW! I exclaimed.
Sigh. In case you didn't follow, the 18% is distributed throughout each month of the year. So, you never pay 18% of what you owe any given month; rather, the interest is calculated in such a way so that over the course of a year, you'll pay about 18% of what you owed, on average. (Ok, please excuse my non-math terms, but that's how a non-finance person would understand it.) You can actually read all about it here. Just like I did! They offer a cute little formula (ha ha) to help you figure it out. Basically, this is what did it for me:
An effective annual interest rate of 10% can also be expressed in several ways:
0.7974% effective monthly interest rate, because 1.007974^12=1.1
9.569% annual interest rate compounded monthly, because 12*0.7974=9.569
9.091% annual rate in advance, because 1/1.1=1-0.091
So, the system does NOT work in the following way: I owe x. After month one, I owe 1.1825x. After month two, I owe 1.1825(1.1825x) and so on! That's crazy and I'd owe tens of thousands of dollars by now!
And all of this, this discovery, led me to recall one important quotation that I heard a long time. It was said by the dear old Albert Einstein, proclaimed math and science genius. He said, "If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts." Well, I don't know how things worked in Mr. Einstein's world, but I don't think that's how things work here. Take this as an example. My mom's theory was that I paid 18% of my debt, plus a minimum payment, each month. The facts (what I'm actually charged) didn't fit her theory. So, she tried to change the facts, saying that I was reading the bill incorrectly, or the company was miscalculating (something I think Visa rarely does, ya know), but guess what?
The facts don't change.
And I think there's an important lesson that one can take away from this encounter (or at least I am doing so). Sometimes, you just have to admit when you're wrong, and change your way of thinking. Not everything works the way you want it to; sometimes, you make a decision based on a theory you have, and the facts just don't seem to agree, so you have to go back and modify that decision, or change it entirely. I think that's so important to keep in mind when trying to figure out "what to do" in life--you can't always change the facts, but you can change the way you think.
Until next time. :)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
directions (not north, south, east, and west)
Think of the word directions. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Some might think of cardinal directions (though not so much anymore, thanks to GPS). But I'd say the second most common, if not most common, initial thought would be: a set of steps to follow in order to accomplish something. The dictionary defines directions as: instruction or guidance for making, using, etc.: directions for baking a cake.
As a teacher, I am all too used to giving students directions. One of the modern theories on that is that teachers should give students less directions--this is an active belief of experiential learning (that is, learning by experience rather than through text or demonstration). Well, let me tell you, although I am a fan of experiential learning, I am also a huge fan of directions.
Why?
Let's think about what the intent is behind a set of directions. As a teacher, I give my students directions to ensure their success. As an "expert in the field" (still getting used to that...) I have studied in depth as to how students learn best, and what will ensure the transfer of meaningful knowledge. I've spent the last three years learning all about the mind and how it works, as well as different ways one can employ when teaching another person. I've proved myself time and time again by writing lesson plans and carrying them out in a classroom setting. I give my students directions so that they will both know what I expect of them and be able to rise to meet and exceed the standards I've set for them. This is all done in their best interest, to make the classes and lessons most meaningful to them.
And, I must say, on average all of my students have done very well with following directions.
Which leads me to my question: do adults just forget that they too should follow directions?
Let me explain. My "day-job" (ha ha) involves processing applications for an online tutoring company. One part of the work includes a "free response" from a tutor--that is, people applying to be tutors are directed to write one to five personalized paragraphs about their qualifications and previous experiences teaching and/or tutoring. After explaining what exactly we want, we then direct tutors to not submit their current resume. We tell them that applications containing a resume will be returned to them for resubmission.
In order to become a tutor, you must be at least 18 years of age, and it is generally assumed that you can read (after all, this is all done online, via computer, where you need to read letters and words to even stumble upon our webpage). So please please please someone explain to me WHY I still receive applications that are simply a resume? Are the tutors just that masochistic that they want to set themselves up for failure that far in advance?
Or is it simply that they didn't take time to read the directions? Just as any good teacher would, we put the directions on our website to ensure our future tutors success. So, why is it then that so few of them take time to read the directions and follow them? It seems to me (and this is just a hunch) that tutors would be saving both us (the content reviewers) and them (the tutors) a lot of time and hassle if they just followed the directions in the first place.
And by seeing this so often, every day of the week, it makes me wonder. Is society just getting that much dumber? Or do people just generally have that much of a lack of regard for directions?
Or, do they simply not understand why directions are placed there?
When I receive a set of directions, providing they make sense and seem meaningful, I am thrilled. To me, directions mean that someone out there cared enough for my well-being that they went ahead and told me what was expected of me so that I could be successful in completing a task.
Think about it. If you were baking a cake, you wouldn't just set the sugar, flour, eggs, milk, and other stuff in a pan and pop it in the oven, right? No, you would follow the directions to ensure that the cake tasted really yummy! So too should you follow directions given in other areas of life--they are there to ensure success.
Trust me, I'm a teacher.
As a teacher, I am all too used to giving students directions. One of the modern theories on that is that teachers should give students less directions--this is an active belief of experiential learning (that is, learning by experience rather than through text or demonstration). Well, let me tell you, although I am a fan of experiential learning, I am also a huge fan of directions.
Why?
Let's think about what the intent is behind a set of directions. As a teacher, I give my students directions to ensure their success. As an "expert in the field" (still getting used to that...) I have studied in depth as to how students learn best, and what will ensure the transfer of meaningful knowledge. I've spent the last three years learning all about the mind and how it works, as well as different ways one can employ when teaching another person. I've proved myself time and time again by writing lesson plans and carrying them out in a classroom setting. I give my students directions so that they will both know what I expect of them and be able to rise to meet and exceed the standards I've set for them. This is all done in their best interest, to make the classes and lessons most meaningful to them.
And, I must say, on average all of my students have done very well with following directions.
Which leads me to my question: do adults just forget that they too should follow directions?
Let me explain. My "day-job" (ha ha) involves processing applications for an online tutoring company. One part of the work includes a "free response" from a tutor--that is, people applying to be tutors are directed to write one to five personalized paragraphs about their qualifications and previous experiences teaching and/or tutoring. After explaining what exactly we want, we then direct tutors to not submit their current resume. We tell them that applications containing a resume will be returned to them for resubmission.
In order to become a tutor, you must be at least 18 years of age, and it is generally assumed that you can read (after all, this is all done online, via computer, where you need to read letters and words to even stumble upon our webpage). So please please please someone explain to me WHY I still receive applications that are simply a resume? Are the tutors just that masochistic that they want to set themselves up for failure that far in advance?
Or is it simply that they didn't take time to read the directions? Just as any good teacher would, we put the directions on our website to ensure our future tutors success. So, why is it then that so few of them take time to read the directions and follow them? It seems to me (and this is just a hunch) that tutors would be saving both us (the content reviewers) and them (the tutors) a lot of time and hassle if they just followed the directions in the first place.
And by seeing this so often, every day of the week, it makes me wonder. Is society just getting that much dumber? Or do people just generally have that much of a lack of regard for directions?
Or, do they simply not understand why directions are placed there?
When I receive a set of directions, providing they make sense and seem meaningful, I am thrilled. To me, directions mean that someone out there cared enough for my well-being that they went ahead and told me what was expected of me so that I could be successful in completing a task.
Think about it. If you were baking a cake, you wouldn't just set the sugar, flour, eggs, milk, and other stuff in a pan and pop it in the oven, right? No, you would follow the directions to ensure that the cake tasted really yummy! So too should you follow directions given in other areas of life--they are there to ensure success.
Trust me, I'm a teacher.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Cosplay, aka Philosophy of the Day, aka I Love You, Doug
So, today I had the chance to join my brother downtown for an anime convention (I think?) called SoyCon. Now, I have never been particularly into anime, manga, or even most videogames...but I went out of love for my lil bro--because man I don't get to see him often enough! He was really excited that I'd take time out of my day to come see him (awh). Well, upon arriving (after I finally found him--you wouldn't believe how many people out of 500 have pink "hair!" :P) I felt...let's just say, out of place. Everyone was dressed as their favorite character--they "were" that character. Even my kid brother, Doug, was not Doug today...he was Marluxia from Kingdom Hearts (forgive me if I spelled any of that wrong). He had a long, bright pink wig, and carried a six foot scythe. (Yes, it was taller than me.)
Let me just tell you how amazing of an experience this was. Doug went to SoyCon in a group of about 5-6 people; two he knew well, and they each brought a friend/sibling. Doug was acquainted with a few other people that showed up...but the entire group consisted of (reportedly) 500 people. And you know what? They all got along. There was such a large sense of community...even the "enemies" from the shows got along, took pictures together, and exchanged "life" stories. They ate together, laughed together, sang together (albeit sometimes badly), walked together, and just...were together.
And yet...I didn't quite fit in.
I was one of the only ones that was not dressed in a costume/character outfit. I was one of the only non-cosplayers. I came dressed in my normal attire--jeans, flipflops, a nice shirt. Pretty, but definitely "Lana," not any other character.
Then tonight, out of the clear blue, my brother texted me. Philosophy of the day! as we like to call it; sometimes it's Thought of the day or Aha! moment of the day, but today was philosophy of the day--one of the favorite parts of my day, especially coming from folks like Doug. Anyway, without further ado, here's the philosophy of the day:
Anyone who ever discredits high schoolers, particularly sixteen year olds, as rebels without a cause, kids with no sense, no life experience...well, let's just say you haven't met my brother. I love my brother so much--he provides insight to life and the world when I can't see past the end of my nose. Every time I'm stuck in a rut, it never fails--I can go to Doug and gain a whole new perspective. That might be strange for most brother/sister relationships...but Doug and I are close. We've been through "so much" together--physically, emotionally, and even just in our minds. We're two peas in a pod; he's pretty much the only person in the world that I know will always be there for me--not just because we're family, but because we're best friends.
I started thinking about Doug's philosophy, and you know what, he's completely right. I've always considered myself grounded; I know who I am, what I want, and I know how to get it (for the most part). I work my ass off, and I achieve. And, I do know who I am. However, that's as far as I go--being me. To me, I can only be me, because that's...who I am. (I hope that makes more sense when you read it than it does just typing it.) I am comfortable being me because I know me.
On the other hand, Doug is mature in ways I may never be. I think so many of us are comfortable in being only ourselves--we get wrapped up in this, in our image, in who we are, and we forget we can be different things to different people.
To me, Doug will always be my little brother. Despite the fact he has about a foot on me these days (the kid's gigantic!), he will always be the little brother that I wanted to trade in for a sister, the baby boy whose diaper I learned how to change, the baby boy I'd wake up at 4 am to feed with Dad, the toddler who bit me right on my butt, the preschooler that broke his leg and wouldn't walk on his cast til I showed him how, the kindergartener who knew how to read ahead of his class because he wanted to read the same books as his big sissy, the second grader who played Abraham Lincoln and gave one of the most beautiful renditions of the Gettysburg Address I've ever heard, the fifth grader who played basketball to fit in, the sixth grader who played Elvis in a school musical and nailed it--down to the hip movements and all, the seventh grader who joined Adult Handbells at church so he could spend more time with Mom and me, the 8th grader who soloed in the school musical despite being made fun of, and nailed an acapella solo using falsetto part of the time, the 8th grade valedictorian of his class, who gave a clear speech encouraging his classmates, the 9th grader that started high school with so much pride and joy, who remembered that "A's are great, B's are good, but fun beats them both," the 9th grader who auditioned for and made it into the Madrigal choir and didn't mind shaving his legs so he could wear tights ("We're men, we're men in tights!"), the 10th grader who began voice lessons and became one of the best basses in choir, the 10th grader who started doing stand-up and improv comedy with school, the 10th grader who wants to be a writer, or maybe a cultural anthropologist, the 10th grader who can bring me to tears with his poetry, the rising 11th grader taking a stab at AP classes, the rising 11th grader working his butt off to finish his summer reading...
And most importantly, the 11th grader who has loved me so beautifully for the past 16.5 years, without regard to how crappy of a sister I've been at times. (Is it a bad thing that I'm balling my eyes out right now at all these memories? No, it's not, what are memories for if not to recall such beauty and be amazed yet again?)
And to me, that's who my brother is, that's who my brother has always been. And I realize that he's not that person to everyone...and that everyone has a different experience of Doug. And of you, and me, and everyone in the world--no two people experience the same person in the same way. Even similar people, for example both of my parents, they each experience me differently. And today, seeing Doug (I mean, Marluxia) cosplaying today with his friends--to some of them, he is Marluxia. And he is this person because Doug is one of the few people that truly knows who he is. Therefore, he can be whoever he wants. And, he is.
And it dawned on me in that moment that I can see this in two different ways, and the following is the way I want it to be understood:
I am a person, one singular person, and each person who knows me experiences a different me, but they all experience "Lana." And, this is because I choose to be me. Despite the fact I may choose to act differently in different situations, I generally stick to the same morals and ethics to which I subscribe.
Doug is a person, one singular person, and each person who knows him experiences a different him, but they don't all experience "Doug." And, this is because Doug chooses to be Doug, Marluxia, and a number of other characters.
In short, some people think of cosplaying, hell even acting, as an escape for people who aren't comfortable with themselves, and want to change certain things. However, I challenge you to think of it as this: people who act, people who cosplay, people who are comfortable enough to the point where they will put aside "themselves" and take on another persona entirely--they are not weak or escaping; rather, they are strong. They see what all life has to offer them, and they choose to experience it to the fullest.
I challenge you to step outside the box. Do something that's not "you" for someone, or with someone, or more importantly, for yourself. You'll be surprised at how strong you are. <3
Let me just tell you how amazing of an experience this was. Doug went to SoyCon in a group of about 5-6 people; two he knew well, and they each brought a friend/sibling. Doug was acquainted with a few other people that showed up...but the entire group consisted of (reportedly) 500 people. And you know what? They all got along. There was such a large sense of community...even the "enemies" from the shows got along, took pictures together, and exchanged "life" stories. They ate together, laughed together, sang together (albeit sometimes badly), walked together, and just...were together.
And yet...I didn't quite fit in.
I was one of the only ones that was not dressed in a costume/character outfit. I was one of the only non-cosplayers. I came dressed in my normal attire--jeans, flipflops, a nice shirt. Pretty, but definitely "Lana," not any other character.
Then tonight, out of the clear blue, my brother texted me. Philosophy of the day! as we like to call it; sometimes it's Thought of the day or Aha! moment of the day, but today was philosophy of the day--one of the favorite parts of my day, especially coming from folks like Doug. Anyway, without further ado, here's the philosophy of the day:
Once you know who you are, you can be whoever you want to be. Ties in with good cosplay.
Anyone who ever discredits high schoolers, particularly sixteen year olds, as rebels without a cause, kids with no sense, no life experience...well, let's just say you haven't met my brother. I love my brother so much--he provides insight to life and the world when I can't see past the end of my nose. Every time I'm stuck in a rut, it never fails--I can go to Doug and gain a whole new perspective. That might be strange for most brother/sister relationships...but Doug and I are close. We've been through "so much" together--physically, emotionally, and even just in our minds. We're two peas in a pod; he's pretty much the only person in the world that I know will always be there for me--not just because we're family, but because we're best friends.
I started thinking about Doug's philosophy, and you know what, he's completely right. I've always considered myself grounded; I know who I am, what I want, and I know how to get it (for the most part). I work my ass off, and I achieve. And, I do know who I am. However, that's as far as I go--being me. To me, I can only be me, because that's...who I am. (I hope that makes more sense when you read it than it does just typing it.) I am comfortable being me because I know me.
On the other hand, Doug is mature in ways I may never be. I think so many of us are comfortable in being only ourselves--we get wrapped up in this, in our image, in who we are, and we forget we can be different things to different people.
To me, Doug will always be my little brother. Despite the fact he has about a foot on me these days (the kid's gigantic!), he will always be the little brother that I wanted to trade in for a sister, the baby boy whose diaper I learned how to change, the baby boy I'd wake up at 4 am to feed with Dad, the toddler who bit me right on my butt, the preschooler that broke his leg and wouldn't walk on his cast til I showed him how, the kindergartener who knew how to read ahead of his class because he wanted to read the same books as his big sissy, the second grader who played Abraham Lincoln and gave one of the most beautiful renditions of the Gettysburg Address I've ever heard, the fifth grader who played basketball to fit in, the sixth grader who played Elvis in a school musical and nailed it--down to the hip movements and all, the seventh grader who joined Adult Handbells at church so he could spend more time with Mom and me, the 8th grader who soloed in the school musical despite being made fun of, and nailed an acapella solo using falsetto part of the time, the 8th grade valedictorian of his class, who gave a clear speech encouraging his classmates, the 9th grader that started high school with so much pride and joy, who remembered that "A's are great, B's are good, but fun beats them both," the 9th grader who auditioned for and made it into the Madrigal choir and didn't mind shaving his legs so he could wear tights ("We're men, we're men in tights!"), the 10th grader who began voice lessons and became one of the best basses in choir, the 10th grader who started doing stand-up and improv comedy with school, the 10th grader who wants to be a writer, or maybe a cultural anthropologist, the 10th grader who can bring me to tears with his poetry, the rising 11th grader taking a stab at AP classes, the rising 11th grader working his butt off to finish his summer reading...
And most importantly, the 11th grader who has loved me so beautifully for the past 16.5 years, without regard to how crappy of a sister I've been at times. (Is it a bad thing that I'm balling my eyes out right now at all these memories? No, it's not, what are memories for if not to recall such beauty and be amazed yet again?)
And to me, that's who my brother is, that's who my brother has always been. And I realize that he's not that person to everyone...and that everyone has a different experience of Doug. And of you, and me, and everyone in the world--no two people experience the same person in the same way. Even similar people, for example both of my parents, they each experience me differently. And today, seeing Doug (I mean, Marluxia) cosplaying today with his friends--to some of them, he is Marluxia. And he is this person because Doug is one of the few people that truly knows who he is. Therefore, he can be whoever he wants. And, he is.
And it dawned on me in that moment that I can see this in two different ways, and the following is the way I want it to be understood:
I am a person, one singular person, and each person who knows me experiences a different me, but they all experience "Lana." And, this is because I choose to be me. Despite the fact I may choose to act differently in different situations, I generally stick to the same morals and ethics to which I subscribe.
Doug is a person, one singular person, and each person who knows him experiences a different him, but they don't all experience "Doug." And, this is because Doug chooses to be Doug, Marluxia, and a number of other characters.
In short, some people think of cosplaying, hell even acting, as an escape for people who aren't comfortable with themselves, and want to change certain things. However, I challenge you to think of it as this: people who act, people who cosplay, people who are comfortable enough to the point where they will put aside "themselves" and take on another persona entirely--they are not weak or escaping; rather, they are strong. They see what all life has to offer them, and they choose to experience it to the fullest.
I challenge you to step outside the box. Do something that's not "you" for someone, or with someone, or more importantly, for yourself. You'll be surprised at how strong you are. <3
Sunday, July 3, 2011
carpe diem.
Nothing like writing a blog at 2AM when you can't sleep, eh?
So, I recently re-watched most of season 1 of Community. For those of you who don't know, it's a show "mocking" a community college, but it actually takes a pretty close look at life and relationships between people: friends, teachers/students, lovers, and the like. It's funny (of course, with Joel McHale how could it not be?!) and it often either exposes a part of life we refuse to confront, or "teaches a lesson," so to speak. I recently watched an episode in which the professor of the class was very "Carpe diem!"--albeit, it seemed very fake (he was too happy!). He told his students they would only pass the class if they could "seize the day" (as the phrase loosely translates).
So, throughout the episode, Jeff (Joel McHale) goes on about trying to plan some a way to seize the day.
If you're not laughing yet, or at least chuckling or shaking your head...you should be.
He's planning to seize the day?! Come on now! How do you plan to be spontaneous?!
Well, so as to not leave you hanging (and spoiler alert, for those who plan on watching season 1 but haven't yet), Jeff tries and tries to impress the professor by "seizing the day"...only when Jeff is in the professor's presence! It's so contrived, it's unbelievable. And finally, Britta (Jeff's romantic interest/friend on the show) helps him "seize the day" by pulling him into a passionate kiss in the middle of the quad. The professor sees, and gives Jeff an "A" for seizing the day.
Ok, now by this point, you're probably thinking, "So what? Where the hell are you going with this?" And I admit, it seems a little silly to go into such detail. But this aligns SO much with my life right now! In my life, I see Jeffs, and I see Brittas. And, I admit, for the most part...I am a Jeff.
It's not that I don't like being spontaneous, or doing random things, but for the most part, I have a lot of responsibilities. Welcome to the real world: being an adult, and making commitments. Although I was likely more of a Britta in high school... since I've started college, I've definitely become a Jeff. And, in a strange way, I think that's a good thing.
I can plan, and organize, things to a T. I can schedule and manage my time; when I want to do something, I follow through and make sure it gets done. People looked at my work/school schedule this past semester, and said, "You're a crazy woman!" And (while that is true, sometimes) I'd have to disagree overall. I am a Jeff. I plan to succeed, and the only way for me to do that is by keeping a schedule. I mean, if I "carpe diem'd" all day, I would not get anything done!
And, that's not to say that I don't enjoy being random in general. Why, just tonight I started looking at plane/train/bus tickets to go see a good friend in Pennsylvania. It's completely random, unapproved (though warranted), but I still allowed myself to do it, and am still seriously considering it. However, this is not the general way I live my life.
Although there's a lot to be said for people who do seize the day (they tend to have more fun, at least), I do think there's a lot to be said for the Jeff Wingers out there. Despite being cynical, crude, and sometimes a downright asshole, his heart is often in the right place. By that I mean, he's in it to win it (so to speak), and at the same time he shows a great amount of loyalty and caring towards his friends (that's awkwardly phrased, but it's 2 AM and I really can't think of how to say it better). I have a lot of reasons to thank my Jeff Winger personality. My Jeff-ness (haha) has allowed me to do things like:
-move out of my parents' house
-minimize tuition
-pull my GPA up over 3.7
-pull straight A's the majority of the time
-keep a steady work schedule
-find meaningful work in my field
-hold down 4+ jobs while still attending school
-take the maximum amount of credits in school (gotta get your money's worth!)
-build lasting friendships
-maintain close ties with my family (for the most part)
-build lasting relationships (ha, maybe still debatable. rather, build the potential for lasting relationships)
-commit, and follow through, with things like: hosting guests, attending social gatherings, attending family events, and so on
-write good lesson plans that a) have a timeline and b) are relevant, fun, and creative
-work the same job(s) for more than two years without having to quit, or without getting fired and/or laid off
-commit my time to a family (not just a student) that I tutor
-launch a successful social media campaign, and receive positive feedback from even the CEO of the company for which I work
And so on.
Well, let me pause here and reflect. Lately, I've been in a "poor me" state for the most part. What do I mean by this? Well, the month of June was particularly rough on me. I lost a lot, including a family member whom I will never see again. For the past week, despite amazingly happy developments in my life, I could only think about "the losses" I've "suffered." And now, in making this list, I can see that while I have lost significant things (people, opportunities, relationships, friendships, and the like), the amount of things I still have are so great in number. And, looking at this list, I have to stop myself and ask, "How in the world could you think, "poor me"? Because, let's face it, when it comes right down to it, I have a lot going for me right now. In addition to all that listed above, I'm also getting ready to start student teaching (yay 5th grade!), and getting ready to graduate next spring. Yep, that's about 10 months away right now--crazy, right?
So, while I'm not entirely ready to jump on the carpe diem bandwagon, I can say that at least what I do have is working for me, Jeff Winger style.
Long story short (I know, you're thinking "this is far from short!"--I agree), I'm on the edge of glory (if you haven't heard the song or watch the video--please do so!). It doesn't matter how I got to the edge, whether I seized the day or planned my way here. What matters is that I arrived. They say that life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey. While I agree that the journey is important, I also recognize that if you don't have a destination, you'll never get anywhere.
Because I don't want to leave the song hanging, take another look at it. Sure, you might think it sounds monotonous, like "just another pop song" or (worse) "just another stupid thing from Gaga." But look closely, at the lyrics (I'm going to take out a few repetitions--don't worry, if you listen you'll hear them):
Sure, being that it's art, there are multiple interpretations, but here's mine (applied directly to my life, so feel free to disagree): I AM on the edge of glory, and that's a great thing. We all work towards some sort of goal, our own personal glory if you will. And, there comes a time in each of our lives when we are *so close* to it, we can feel it--we're right there. On the edge, if you will. And, it may be just one little thing to push us over the top. One word of encouragement from a friend, one bold action, one kiss or touch, one hater trying to bring us down...no matter what it is, that's what puts us over the edge. Right now, I'm on the edge of glory. I'm starting my last year of school--student teaching will be what puts me over the edge, and pushes me towards glory.
And, I can't wait.
So, to my Britta friends, carpe diem. And, to my fellow Jeff friends... best of luck in reaching the edge.
Peace. <3. Happiness.
So, I recently re-watched most of season 1 of Community. For those of you who don't know, it's a show "mocking" a community college, but it actually takes a pretty close look at life and relationships between people: friends, teachers/students, lovers, and the like. It's funny (of course, with Joel McHale how could it not be?!) and it often either exposes a part of life we refuse to confront, or "teaches a lesson," so to speak. I recently watched an episode in which the professor of the class was very "Carpe diem!"--albeit, it seemed very fake (he was too happy!). He told his students they would only pass the class if they could "seize the day" (as the phrase loosely translates).
So, throughout the episode, Jeff (Joel McHale) goes on about trying to plan some a way to seize the day.
If you're not laughing yet, or at least chuckling or shaking your head...you should be.
He's planning to seize the day?! Come on now! How do you plan to be spontaneous?!
Well, so as to not leave you hanging (and spoiler alert, for those who plan on watching season 1 but haven't yet), Jeff tries and tries to impress the professor by "seizing the day"...only when Jeff is in the professor's presence! It's so contrived, it's unbelievable. And finally, Britta (Jeff's romantic interest/friend on the show) helps him "seize the day" by pulling him into a passionate kiss in the middle of the quad. The professor sees, and gives Jeff an "A" for seizing the day.
Ok, now by this point, you're probably thinking, "So what? Where the hell are you going with this?" And I admit, it seems a little silly to go into such detail. But this aligns SO much with my life right now! In my life, I see Jeffs, and I see Brittas. And, I admit, for the most part...I am a Jeff.
It's not that I don't like being spontaneous, or doing random things, but for the most part, I have a lot of responsibilities. Welcome to the real world: being an adult, and making commitments. Although I was likely more of a Britta in high school... since I've started college, I've definitely become a Jeff. And, in a strange way, I think that's a good thing.
I can plan, and organize, things to a T. I can schedule and manage my time; when I want to do something, I follow through and make sure it gets done. People looked at my work/school schedule this past semester, and said, "You're a crazy woman!" And (while that is true, sometimes) I'd have to disagree overall. I am a Jeff. I plan to succeed, and the only way for me to do that is by keeping a schedule. I mean, if I "carpe diem'd" all day, I would not get anything done!
And, that's not to say that I don't enjoy being random in general. Why, just tonight I started looking at plane/train/bus tickets to go see a good friend in Pennsylvania. It's completely random, unapproved (though warranted), but I still allowed myself to do it, and am still seriously considering it. However, this is not the general way I live my life.
Although there's a lot to be said for people who do seize the day (they tend to have more fun, at least), I do think there's a lot to be said for the Jeff Wingers out there. Despite being cynical, crude, and sometimes a downright asshole, his heart is often in the right place. By that I mean, he's in it to win it (so to speak), and at the same time he shows a great amount of loyalty and caring towards his friends (that's awkwardly phrased, but it's 2 AM and I really can't think of how to say it better). I have a lot of reasons to thank my Jeff Winger personality. My Jeff-ness (haha) has allowed me to do things like:
-move out of my parents' house
-minimize tuition
-pull my GPA up over 3.7
-pull straight A's the majority of the time
-keep a steady work schedule
-find meaningful work in my field
-hold down 4+ jobs while still attending school
-take the maximum amount of credits in school (gotta get your money's worth!)
-build lasting friendships
-maintain close ties with my family (for the most part)
-build lasting relationships (ha, maybe still debatable. rather, build the potential for lasting relationships)
-commit, and follow through, with things like: hosting guests, attending social gatherings, attending family events, and so on
-write good lesson plans that a) have a timeline and b) are relevant, fun, and creative
-work the same job(s) for more than two years without having to quit, or without getting fired and/or laid off
-commit my time to a family (not just a student) that I tutor
-launch a successful social media campaign, and receive positive feedback from even the CEO of the company for which I work
And so on.
Well, let me pause here and reflect. Lately, I've been in a "poor me" state for the most part. What do I mean by this? Well, the month of June was particularly rough on me. I lost a lot, including a family member whom I will never see again. For the past week, despite amazingly happy developments in my life, I could only think about "the losses" I've "suffered." And now, in making this list, I can see that while I have lost significant things (people, opportunities, relationships, friendships, and the like), the amount of things I still have are so great in number. And, looking at this list, I have to stop myself and ask, "How in the world could you think, "poor me"? Because, let's face it, when it comes right down to it, I have a lot going for me right now. In addition to all that listed above, I'm also getting ready to start student teaching (yay 5th grade!), and getting ready to graduate next spring. Yep, that's about 10 months away right now--crazy, right?
So, while I'm not entirely ready to jump on the carpe diem bandwagon, I can say that at least what I do have is working for me, Jeff Winger style.
Long story short (I know, you're thinking "this is far from short!"--I agree), I'm on the edge of glory (if you haven't heard the song or watch the video--please do so!). It doesn't matter how I got to the edge, whether I seized the day or planned my way here. What matters is that I arrived. They say that life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey. While I agree that the journey is important, I also recognize that if you don't have a destination, you'll never get anywhere.
Because I don't want to leave the song hanging, take another look at it. Sure, you might think it sounds monotonous, like "just another pop song" or (worse) "just another stupid thing from Gaga." But look closely, at the lyrics (I'm going to take out a few repetitions--don't worry, if you listen you'll hear them):
Another shot, before we kiss the other side,
Tonight, yeah baby.
I'm on the edge of something final we call life tonight
Alright, alright.
Put on your shades 'cause I'll be dancing in the flames
Tonight, yeah baby
It isn't Hell if everybody knows my name
Tonight, alright, alright.
It's hot to feel the rush,
To brush the dangerous.
I'm gonna run back to, to the edge with you
Where we can both fall far in love.
I'm on the edge of glory,
And I'm hanging on a moment of truth,
Out on the edge of glory,
And I'm hanging on a moment with you,
I'm on the edge of glory
And I'm hanging on a moment with you
I'm on the edge with you
...
I'm on the edge with you
Sure, being that it's art, there are multiple interpretations, but here's mine (applied directly to my life, so feel free to disagree): I AM on the edge of glory, and that's a great thing. We all work towards some sort of goal, our own personal glory if you will. And, there comes a time in each of our lives when we are *so close* to it, we can feel it--we're right there. On the edge, if you will. And, it may be just one little thing to push us over the top. One word of encouragement from a friend, one bold action, one kiss or touch, one hater trying to bring us down...no matter what it is, that's what puts us over the edge. Right now, I'm on the edge of glory. I'm starting my last year of school--student teaching will be what puts me over the edge, and pushes me towards glory.
And, I can't wait.
So, to my Britta friends, carpe diem. And, to my fellow Jeff friends... best of luck in reaching the edge.
Peace. <3. Happiness.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Dear Poppy
Today, for the last time in my life, I said goodbye to my Poppy.
Well, I didn't physically say goodbye. We were at a funeral home, and really there are way too many folks at funeral homes for me to actually be able to comfortably say goodbye to someone who has died. But anyway, today was the last day I'll be able to see my Poppy, in the 3D, at least. Two of my cousins as well as my aunt talked for a bit about my Poppy today, and that was truly great. It was the one way I'd want him to be remembered: we told stories.
My cousin, Adam, probably said what I felt was closest to my thoughts about Poppy. Adam described himself as "not exactly religious," and I am going to go so far as to actually say what I mean, I am an atheist. I don't believe Poppy is "in a better place," or that he's "happy now." I guess I could go so far as to say that he's not in any pain--he's dead. Adam summed it up best when he said that although Poppy didn't "go" anywhere, he is still here--in each and every one of his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids.
And, that's true.
We will always remember Poppy stories. Poppy lessons. Every time I turn off a light, I think of Poppy. "You're not in that room, what the hell are you gonna leave the light on for?" And, I attribute my ability to (almost) say "A big black bug bit a big black bear and the big black bear bled blood!" in one breath without mispronouncing many of the words! :P Poppy taught us that life is what you make out of it. He played minor league baseball for Chicago, and had a "very promising" future until he blew out his knee. That didn't stop him, though. He went on to lead a very successful life, supporting a wife and three children, one of which grew up to bear me. He taught them, and us, never to expect a handout (but to take one when offered), and that we'd have in life what we made on our own count. He taught my dad this the hard way, by not paying for his schooling after high school, though the lesson translated over and I don't think I've ever expected a handout from my parents.
In his old age (as in, more recently), he taught me what it meant to truly care for someone. He and my Nanny were married for 61 years. Most people don't get the opportunity to experience ANYTHING for 61 years, except maybe being alive. I was reading through some of the old scrapbooks my Nanny kept, and in it were their anniversary cards from the first few years of their marriage. They described each other in such specifically romantic terms, telling each other that they were truly living the "best years of their lives." I don't know that I'll ever get to experience what they had...but their example has certainly proven to me what love is, and has set a standard to which I'd like to live up. So far, I haven't...but I plan to, and continue to relish the fact that I can aspire to a love as great as what Nanny and Poppy had.
In short, this says it best:
Dear Bobbie
Poppy, goodbye. You are loved, respected, honored, and missed. I love you. I miss you. I will carry you on in my memory, and in the way I live my life... always.
<3
Well, I didn't physically say goodbye. We were at a funeral home, and really there are way too many folks at funeral homes for me to actually be able to comfortably say goodbye to someone who has died. But anyway, today was the last day I'll be able to see my Poppy, in the 3D, at least. Two of my cousins as well as my aunt talked for a bit about my Poppy today, and that was truly great. It was the one way I'd want him to be remembered: we told stories.
My cousin, Adam, probably said what I felt was closest to my thoughts about Poppy. Adam described himself as "not exactly religious," and I am going to go so far as to actually say what I mean, I am an atheist. I don't believe Poppy is "in a better place," or that he's "happy now." I guess I could go so far as to say that he's not in any pain--he's dead. Adam summed it up best when he said that although Poppy didn't "go" anywhere, he is still here--in each and every one of his kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids.
And, that's true.
We will always remember Poppy stories. Poppy lessons. Every time I turn off a light, I think of Poppy. "You're not in that room, what the hell are you gonna leave the light on for?" And, I attribute my ability to (almost) say "A big black bug bit a big black bear and the big black bear bled blood!" in one breath without mispronouncing many of the words! :P Poppy taught us that life is what you make out of it. He played minor league baseball for Chicago, and had a "very promising" future until he blew out his knee. That didn't stop him, though. He went on to lead a very successful life, supporting a wife and three children, one of which grew up to bear me. He taught them, and us, never to expect a handout (but to take one when offered), and that we'd have in life what we made on our own count. He taught my dad this the hard way, by not paying for his schooling after high school, though the lesson translated over and I don't think I've ever expected a handout from my parents.
In his old age (as in, more recently), he taught me what it meant to truly care for someone. He and my Nanny were married for 61 years. Most people don't get the opportunity to experience ANYTHING for 61 years, except maybe being alive. I was reading through some of the old scrapbooks my Nanny kept, and in it were their anniversary cards from the first few years of their marriage. They described each other in such specifically romantic terms, telling each other that they were truly living the "best years of their lives." I don't know that I'll ever get to experience what they had...but their example has certainly proven to me what love is, and has set a standard to which I'd like to live up. So far, I haven't...but I plan to, and continue to relish the fact that I can aspire to a love as great as what Nanny and Poppy had.
In short, this says it best:
Dear Bobbie
Poppy, goodbye. You are loved, respected, honored, and missed. I love you. I miss you. I will carry you on in my memory, and in the way I live my life... always.
<3
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Breathe, just breathe.
Sitting here, it's almost 4 AM, and I'm not tired. I want to do what I want to do, and I don't know of anyone awake to ask "is this a good idea?" So, for the first time in a while, concerning this part of my life at least, I take the stand.
Except, I'm not making any calls. And, it's he who doesn't love me, not the other way around. Otherwise, pretty much.
And what I like most about this song is (well, I like the whole thing, as a story) the part that says "Life's like an hourglass, glued to the table."
Ain't that the truth? I think the most important thing about the image is that it's glued to the table--there's no flipping it back over for more time, or turning it on its side to stop the sand from flowing from the top into the bottom half. It's going to go on, no matter how hard you tug on it to pull it up, to dissolve the glue...in the end, it's fruitless, and you're better off forgetting about the damn thing, and going and living your life.
"Help me to accept the things I cannot change," like people's feelings, emotions, and desires. And, ultimately, help me accept the actions of others, even when I disagree or don't comprehend the logic behind the decision. It's there. Help me to accept that, and help me to be at peace with it.
"Help me to change the things I can," like my responses to other people, both physically, verbally, emotionally, and otherwise. Help me keep myself in check, and help me to constantly be able to scrutinize my life from a somewhat objective perspective; without this third party perspective, I will not be able to understand my own motives, or the motives of others.
"And help make me wise enough to know the difference," which is debatabley* the hardest, and therefore most important part of this whole process. I've spent a lot of my time lately thinking about why I can't change the things I can't change, and even for a while not being able to recognize them as unchangeable, for me at least. For example, I cannot just step up, snap my fingers, and change how someone feels about me. Although most desirable for the short term, this likely would have caused problems in the long run. However, I suffered a lot of unnecessary grief due to my inability to recognize this fact.
Help me accept the things I cannot change.
Help me to change the things I can.
Help me to be wise enough to know the difference.
Though I'm not religious, so I'm not reciting this to a higher power, I do ask this of my friends, my family--those there to support me, no matter what the cause. I also write it like this to remind myself that belief that I can do one thing (or conversely, cannot) can change me to such a great degree. So, lastly, I'm reminding myself that I need to accept, change, and be wise, ultimately. Easier said than done, that's for sure.
But, not entirely something to give up on. There are always new prospects, and every day comes with a new dawn.
*(there is no real spelling for that word, right?)
2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake,
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,
I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"
Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize,
Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason
'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe
Except, I'm not making any calls. And, it's he who doesn't love me, not the other way around. Otherwise, pretty much.
And what I like most about this song is (well, I like the whole thing, as a story) the part that says "Life's like an hourglass, glued to the table."
Ain't that the truth? I think the most important thing about the image is that it's glued to the table--there's no flipping it back over for more time, or turning it on its side to stop the sand from flowing from the top into the bottom half. It's going to go on, no matter how hard you tug on it to pull it up, to dissolve the glue...in the end, it's fruitless, and you're better off forgetting about the damn thing, and going and living your life.
"Help me to accept the things I cannot change," like people's feelings, emotions, and desires. And, ultimately, help me accept the actions of others, even when I disagree or don't comprehend the logic behind the decision. It's there. Help me to accept that, and help me to be at peace with it.
"Help me to change the things I can," like my responses to other people, both physically, verbally, emotionally, and otherwise. Help me keep myself in check, and help me to constantly be able to scrutinize my life from a somewhat objective perspective; without this third party perspective, I will not be able to understand my own motives, or the motives of others.
"And help make me wise enough to know the difference," which is debatabley* the hardest, and therefore most important part of this whole process. I've spent a lot of my time lately thinking about why I can't change the things I can't change, and even for a while not being able to recognize them as unchangeable, for me at least. For example, I cannot just step up, snap my fingers, and change how someone feels about me. Although most desirable for the short term, this likely would have caused problems in the long run. However, I suffered a lot of unnecessary grief due to my inability to recognize this fact.
Help me accept the things I cannot change.
Help me to change the things I can.
Help me to be wise enough to know the difference.
Though I'm not religious, so I'm not reciting this to a higher power, I do ask this of my friends, my family--those there to support me, no matter what the cause. I also write it like this to remind myself that belief that I can do one thing (or conversely, cannot) can change me to such a great degree. So, lastly, I'm reminding myself that I need to accept, change, and be wise, ultimately. Easier said than done, that's for sure.
But, not entirely something to give up on. There are always new prospects, and every day comes with a new dawn.
2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song--"2AM Breathe" by Anna Nalick
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to
But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe
*(there is no real spelling for that word, right?)
Monday, June 6, 2011
"Look at me I'm Sandra Dee...
Lousy with virginity! Won't go to bed til I'm legally wed!"
Ok, well, that little ditty certainly doesn't describe my life...but in case you're wondering, that is from a song I studied way back in high school (when it actually DID come closer at least to describing my life...)
And this reminds me, why did I stop singing?! Well, ok, I never really stopped, but I definitely put voice lessons on the halt (no money) and I didn't take choir at school this past semester (no time). For something that means so much to me, that I even went so far as to tattoo on the back of my neck, I sure am doing a great job at ignoring the role music plays in my life.
Which brings me to the greater point: growing up and giving up. Maybe that's what this blog should actually be titled. I've been thinking lately that the more we grow up, the more we give up things that we have done in our youth. Have you ever had this feeling...?
Over the weekend, my boyfriend and I got into a "fight"--argument, discussion, call it what you will, but emotions went flying (mine) and honest, harsh words were said (his), and what came of this was the following: "All" we do (when we're together) is have fun. He doesn't like that--he doesn't feel productive, he feels like our relationship is just a game, it can even be 'fake' at times. And, to a degree, I would have to agree with him. We do things like watch movies, go to the beach, visit with friends, cook dinner (or on occasion go out to eat), and sometimes we drink. To most people, that probably sounds pretty standard--those are the fun, relaxing things that most of us wish we had more time for. However, his point is that he feels like, since this is "all" we're doing, he feels unproductive, lazy, and like he's wasting both his time and mine. So, the solution (after much, much discussion) was that we simply have to "DO" more together. He mentioned, several times, that we should incorporate art, or art projects, into this, as well as things that would inspire us to learn. I suggested going back to an original plan, to collaborate on a summer reading list so we could discuss.
I'm not sure what drove us to this point, and I certainly would have hoped that we could have sorted this out before it got as ugly as it did, but nonetheless I think he learned quite a bit about me, and I learned a bit about him in this process as well. Hopefully in the future, we can continue to sort these things out before they get to a dangerous level.
But back to my original point--what's wrong with doing the fun things? I understand his point that he wants to learn and be productive, but isn't it ok to have fun sometimes? To go to the beach with your lover? Or to just relax and watch a movie? I think the key here is all about balance--it's about not giving up on things you enjoy doing, even if they don't "get you anywhere" in life (ok, I'm really going to try to stop with the quotes--for whatever reason I always put cliche terminology in quotes, and I realize today I'm doing it more than usual!).
My boyfriend's ultimate goal is to "get better." Most activities he does, whether it's school, working out, etc. are all focused on improving a skill, gaining knowledge, and the like. As a teacher, I can DEFINITELY appreciate this, and wish that more people were as receptive to learning as he is! But that also makes me question, what's wrong with the "stupid" stuff? Or, more eloquently, what's wrong with doing something that has no real value, as long as the time spent is not taking away from another activity that would cause progression? I'm not sure that I'm ready to completely eliminate beach days, or movie nights, from my life. I do believe that I could focus myself a little better, and that my boyfriend and I could do more relevant things when we're together. I have no doubt in my mind that we would likely both be happier, as well. However, I also want to keep beach days, plecostomus kisses, movie nights, home cooked dinners, and the like alive and well. Because after all, if we all grow up and give up on the "childish" things we've come to know and enjoy, where will THAT get us? As a person? As a couple? Even as a community, a nation, and furthermore, a world?
Maybe we all need to redirect ourselves, once in a while. And now is certainly one of those times. However, my fun pastimes are and will continue to be a part of my life, even if the magnitude is not as great as it once was.
Ok, well, that little ditty certainly doesn't describe my life...but in case you're wondering, that is from a song I studied way back in high school (when it actually DID come closer at least to describing my life...)
And this reminds me, why did I stop singing?! Well, ok, I never really stopped, but I definitely put voice lessons on the halt (no money) and I didn't take choir at school this past semester (no time). For something that means so much to me, that I even went so far as to tattoo on the back of my neck, I sure am doing a great job at ignoring the role music plays in my life.
Which brings me to the greater point: growing up and giving up. Maybe that's what this blog should actually be titled. I've been thinking lately that the more we grow up, the more we give up things that we have done in our youth. Have you ever had this feeling...?
Over the weekend, my boyfriend and I got into a "fight"--argument, discussion, call it what you will, but emotions went flying (mine) and honest, harsh words were said (his), and what came of this was the following: "All" we do (when we're together) is have fun. He doesn't like that--he doesn't feel productive, he feels like our relationship is just a game, it can even be 'fake' at times. And, to a degree, I would have to agree with him. We do things like watch movies, go to the beach, visit with friends, cook dinner (or on occasion go out to eat), and sometimes we drink. To most people, that probably sounds pretty standard--those are the fun, relaxing things that most of us wish we had more time for. However, his point is that he feels like, since this is "all" we're doing, he feels unproductive, lazy, and like he's wasting both his time and mine. So, the solution (after much, much discussion) was that we simply have to "DO" more together. He mentioned, several times, that we should incorporate art, or art projects, into this, as well as things that would inspire us to learn. I suggested going back to an original plan, to collaborate on a summer reading list so we could discuss.
I'm not sure what drove us to this point, and I certainly would have hoped that we could have sorted this out before it got as ugly as it did, but nonetheless I think he learned quite a bit about me, and I learned a bit about him in this process as well. Hopefully in the future, we can continue to sort these things out before they get to a dangerous level.
But back to my original point--what's wrong with doing the fun things? I understand his point that he wants to learn and be productive, but isn't it ok to have fun sometimes? To go to the beach with your lover? Or to just relax and watch a movie? I think the key here is all about balance--it's about not giving up on things you enjoy doing, even if they don't "get you anywhere" in life (ok, I'm really going to try to stop with the quotes--for whatever reason I always put cliche terminology in quotes, and I realize today I'm doing it more than usual!).
My boyfriend's ultimate goal is to "get better." Most activities he does, whether it's school, working out, etc. are all focused on improving a skill, gaining knowledge, and the like. As a teacher, I can DEFINITELY appreciate this, and wish that more people were as receptive to learning as he is! But that also makes me question, what's wrong with the "stupid" stuff? Or, more eloquently, what's wrong with doing something that has no real value, as long as the time spent is not taking away from another activity that would cause progression? I'm not sure that I'm ready to completely eliminate beach days, or movie nights, from my life. I do believe that I could focus myself a little better, and that my boyfriend and I could do more relevant things when we're together. I have no doubt in my mind that we would likely both be happier, as well. However, I also want to keep beach days, plecostomus kisses, movie nights, home cooked dinners, and the like alive and well. Because after all, if we all grow up and give up on the "childish" things we've come to know and enjoy, where will THAT get us? As a person? As a couple? Even as a community, a nation, and furthermore, a world?
Maybe we all need to redirect ourselves, once in a while. And now is certainly one of those times. However, my fun pastimes are and will continue to be a part of my life, even if the magnitude is not as great as it once was.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood,
Miss No-way-it's-all-good, it didn't slow me down.
Dear Pink, I disagree. I think it does get you down. Being the happy camper, all of the time, always offering support to everyone around you while receiving little, if any, does most certainly get you down.
I've always been the strong one. For me, it's always been "be there, be strong, or don't be at all." I had a lot of shit to deal with at a young age, and I can honestly say I'm 100% grateful for it...sometimes. Being the strong one isn't always easy, though. It takes a great deal of put up and shut up, put on a happy face, and biting the bullet at the right time.
When I was a freshman in high school, my biology teacher made the comment to my mom that I knew what I wanted and I knew how to get it. For the most part, that has been true. I usually do get what I want. But I think she had it wrong. It's not that I'm a manipulative bitch that knows how to play people. It's that I work my ass off for everything, and I don't give up easily at all. That's right, I'm admittedly one of the most stubborn people I know, and I'm proud of it.
Which is probably what makes not getting my way ten zillion times harder than it is for most people.
I like to think of myself as strong, courageous, and the one who supports others. And, for the most part, I am. That's what makes me such a good teacher. However, in some situations, it probes to be detrimental. Because I am strong, supportive, accommodating, and so on, I sometimes forget that oh, yeah, I should be me. I put myself first only when absolutely necessary. A good quality, right? Wrong. It's a good quality for those around me, sure. I work my ass off--my bosses love me. I do all my homework, on time, and well--my teachers love me. I support my family, emotionally and at times, financially--they love me too. But what about me? Do I love me?
That's a question I'm thinking about a lot right now--do I love me? Well, let's see. Do I respect me? Sure, anyone would be dumb not to. Do I like me? Sure, I am a hard worker, and have a good sense of humor--most people including me like people like that. But do I love me?
Today, yesterday, or maybe tomorrow, I have had to, or will have to, admit defeat in something that I want nearly more than anything right now. I might have already caved in, or I might be about to cave in, I'm not entirely sure yet. I haven't caved yet, which is obviously what the other person wants me to do, and it's making me feel...well. How is it making me feel? Good? Sometimes. Bad? Sometimes. Silly? A little. Stubborn as hell? Yeah. Is it making me love me any more?
"You cannot love another until you love yourself." False. I think we can love others in spite of ourselves. And, in my case, I think we can love others instead of ourselves. Maybe my heart just isn't big enough to love everyone else and me. Because the more I hear "I don't love you" the more I love others, and the less I love myself. Cause after all, if I'm that unloveable that others can't love me, how the hell am I supposed to love me? It's a vicious circle, really, if you think about it. How the hell am I supposed to process that thought? Love yourself, then love others. But while others can't love you, neither can you.
This thought has made me greatly question my motives. Why do I do what I do? (that's a lot of do's, I know, and I apologize if it's confusing).
The following conversation occurred on Facebook this morning.
My status: "I don't want to admit defeat."
My teacher from soph year of high school: "Entonces, no lo hagas" (Then, don't do it.)
Me: "Es posible que sea inevitable." (It's possible that it's inevitable.)
Teacher: "Buena suerte a ti, entonces." (Good luck to you, then.)
Me: "Muchas gracias" (Much thanks).
Teacher: "Y recuerdas, siempre te amo." (And remember, I always love you.)
Not going to lie, at that point I broke down completely. Someone I haven't seen in almost 3 years, solely talk to via facebook (and occasionally email), is offering up their support of my situation after having not even known what I'm going through. Talk about unconditional. One may say that sounds stupid, no way did he know that I needed the support at this point (which I definitely do/did). However, I see that conversely, positively if you will. Someone knows me well enough to trust the fact that if I don't want to do something, it's probably not going to benefit my life in any way. Entonces, he didn't pry, he didn't ask for additional information... he just offered himself, and his heart, to me completely.
Damn, what the world might be like if more people did that a little more often...
Well, that's probably the most I feel comfortable explaining, at least on line for the world to see. Thanks for reading. :)
And, if you'd like to see the rest of the song mentioned above, here it is. All credits to Pink and whoever the hell holds the copyright laws. :P
Made a wrong turn once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good'
It didn't slow me down.
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look I'm still around
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
You're so mean when you talk
About yourself. You were wrong.
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead.
So complicated,
Look happy, You'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It's enough, I've done all I could think of
Chased down all my demons
I've seen you do the same
(ohh ohhhhhhh)
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line and we try try try but we try too hard
And it's a waste of my time.
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that, why do I do that (why do I do that)?
Pretty, pretty, pretty
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing than you're fucking perfect to me
(you're perfect, you're perfect)
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
Dear Pink, I disagree. I think it does get you down. Being the happy camper, all of the time, always offering support to everyone around you while receiving little, if any, does most certainly get you down.
I've always been the strong one. For me, it's always been "be there, be strong, or don't be at all." I had a lot of shit to deal with at a young age, and I can honestly say I'm 100% grateful for it...sometimes. Being the strong one isn't always easy, though. It takes a great deal of put up and shut up, put on a happy face, and biting the bullet at the right time.
When I was a freshman in high school, my biology teacher made the comment to my mom that I knew what I wanted and I knew how to get it. For the most part, that has been true. I usually do get what I want. But I think she had it wrong. It's not that I'm a manipulative bitch that knows how to play people. It's that I work my ass off for everything, and I don't give up easily at all. That's right, I'm admittedly one of the most stubborn people I know, and I'm proud of it.
Which is probably what makes not getting my way ten zillion times harder than it is for most people.
I like to think of myself as strong, courageous, and the one who supports others. And, for the most part, I am. That's what makes me such a good teacher. However, in some situations, it probes to be detrimental. Because I am strong, supportive, accommodating, and so on, I sometimes forget that oh, yeah, I should be me. I put myself first only when absolutely necessary. A good quality, right? Wrong. It's a good quality for those around me, sure. I work my ass off--my bosses love me. I do all my homework, on time, and well--my teachers love me. I support my family, emotionally and at times, financially--they love me too. But what about me? Do I love me?
That's a question I'm thinking about a lot right now--do I love me? Well, let's see. Do I respect me? Sure, anyone would be dumb not to. Do I like me? Sure, I am a hard worker, and have a good sense of humor--most people including me like people like that. But do I love me?
Today, yesterday, or maybe tomorrow, I have had to, or will have to, admit defeat in something that I want nearly more than anything right now. I might have already caved in, or I might be about to cave in, I'm not entirely sure yet. I haven't caved yet, which is obviously what the other person wants me to do, and it's making me feel...well. How is it making me feel? Good? Sometimes. Bad? Sometimes. Silly? A little. Stubborn as hell? Yeah. Is it making me love me any more?
"You cannot love another until you love yourself." False. I think we can love others in spite of ourselves. And, in my case, I think we can love others instead of ourselves. Maybe my heart just isn't big enough to love everyone else and me. Because the more I hear "I don't love you" the more I love others, and the less I love myself. Cause after all, if I'm that unloveable that others can't love me, how the hell am I supposed to love me? It's a vicious circle, really, if you think about it. How the hell am I supposed to process that thought? Love yourself, then love others. But while others can't love you, neither can you.
This thought has made me greatly question my motives. Why do I do what I do? (that's a lot of do's, I know, and I apologize if it's confusing).
The following conversation occurred on Facebook this morning.
My status: "I don't want to admit defeat."
My teacher from soph year of high school: "Entonces, no lo hagas" (Then, don't do it.)
Me: "Es posible que sea inevitable." (It's possible that it's inevitable.)
Teacher: "Buena suerte a ti, entonces." (Good luck to you, then.)
Me: "Muchas gracias" (Much thanks).
Teacher: "Y recuerdas, siempre te amo." (And remember, I always love you.)
Not going to lie, at that point I broke down completely. Someone I haven't seen in almost 3 years, solely talk to via facebook (and occasionally email), is offering up their support of my situation after having not even known what I'm going through. Talk about unconditional. One may say that sounds stupid, no way did he know that I needed the support at this point (which I definitely do/did). However, I see that conversely, positively if you will. Someone knows me well enough to trust the fact that if I don't want to do something, it's probably not going to benefit my life in any way. Entonces, he didn't pry, he didn't ask for additional information... he just offered himself, and his heart, to me completely.
Damn, what the world might be like if more people did that a little more often...
Well, that's probably the most I feel comfortable explaining, at least on line for the world to see. Thanks for reading. :)
And, if you'd like to see the rest of the song mentioned above, here it is. All credits to Pink and whoever the hell holds the copyright laws. :P
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good'
It didn't slow me down.
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look I'm still around
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
You're so mean when you talk
About yourself. You were wrong.
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead.
So complicated,
Look happy, You'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It's enough, I've done all I could think of
Chased down all my demons
I've seen you do the same
(ohh ohhhhhhh)
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
The whole world's scared, so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line and we try try try but we try too hard
And it's a waste of my time.
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They don't like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that, why do I do that (why do I do that)?
Pretty, pretty, pretty
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than fucking perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing than you're fucking perfect to me
(you're perfect, you're perfect)
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)