A few months ago, my father bought me a book that I've refused to read. It's called The Female Brain by Dr. Louann Brizendine (neuropsychiatrist). I refused to read this book because of a few reasons. The first being that the cover is a tangle of curly-cue phone cords wrapped into the configuration of a brain. Although we are warned not to judge books by their covers, I'm not naive enough to believe that the covers are without their own messages. The photo of a phone cord sculpted to look like a brain under the title "The Female Brain" insulted me on the spot. I'm sure it was the publishers' attempt to be cute and marketable, but for their more astute female readers such an image is a slap.
Another reason that deterred me from the book is its endocrinological explanation for the female thought and emotional processes. Although I understand that, as humans, we are at the mercy of our hormonal balances, I do not believe in using this reliance as a crutch. I hate when women complain about their behavior, rubber stamp it as "PMS," and then continue behaving irrationally. I hate when men make these same excuses for women. I hate that it only seems to be women's endocrine systems under the microscope as of late rather than men's. Sure, the woman's hormonal fluctuations vary more widely and frequently than the man's, but that should not excuse us from looking at men. Research deserves to be done on them as well.
The final reason I refused to read the book in the beginning was the belief that I would be emotionally crippled by the opinions in the book. Despite my deepest abhorrence to excuses for my behavior, I will cling to them if it makes it easier on me...which might explain my abhorrence. I don't want to hear "it's not you, blame the Estrogen!" from anyone because I'm afraid that hearing that will lead me by the nose into a sort of infantile trust in a flawed system (particularly one that has been established by the patriarchal hegemony).
Last night, however, I sunk to the depths of desperation. I hung up the phone with Robert at around midnight and felt wide awake. We were attempting to consider my need to hang onto emotions so tightly...I told him about yesterday's blog entry, and that only after posting it did I finally start to feel more at peace. Through the course of our conversation, and by no fault of his, I felt increasingly despondent and self-hating. I could not understand what has been wrong with me, and I knew I would lie awake in bed all night if I didn't find something resembling an answer. So, I reluctantly took "The Female Brain" off the shelf, cried through the entire Introduction (simply because I was sure it wouldn't help me and that there was something truly wrong with me), and then flipped through the table of contents until I found something that seemed appropriate for my feelings: a chapter titled "Emotion: The Feeling Brain." I found the following quote particularly interesting:
"Anxiety is a state that occurs when stress or fear triggers the amygdala, causing the brain to rally all its conscious attention to the threat at hand. Anxiety is four times more common in women. A woman's highly responsive stress trigger allows her to become anxious much more quickly than does a man. Although this may not seem like an adaptive trait, it actually allows her brain to focus on the danger at hand and respond quickly to protect her children. Unfortunately, this intense sensitivity in adult women, as in teenage girls, means that they are nearly twice as likely as men to suffer from depression and anxiety, especially through their reproductive years. [...] While psychologists have emphasized cultural and social explanations for this 'depression gender gap,' more and more neuroscientists are finding that sensitivity to fear, stress, genes, estrogen, progesterone, and innate brain biology play important roles. Many gene variations and brain circuits that are affected by estrogen and serotonin are thought to increase women's risk of depression. The CREB-1 gene, which is different in some women diagnosed with depression, has a little switch that is turned on by estrogen. Scientists speculate that this may be one of several mechanisms by which women's vulnerability to depression turns on at puberty with the surges of progesterone and estrogen."
I wasn't angry all of Sunday evening. Yes, I was angry at some point on Sunday. But I feel that I'm understanding now that the emotional experience I struggled to move past was not motivated by anger but instead by a combination of anxiety and depression. Anxiety because now my plans are thrown up in the air and I have to problem solve when I already have a full plate of problems in need of solving. Depression because of the disappointment I felt in my family and in myself for my incapability of keeping them on task. If my brain is flooded with a hormone, I certainly can't change it, but I can understand it now and perhaps anticipate and become more proactive in how I calm down.
In yesterday's post, I expressed that Robert was upset because I was still so upset and that in the end I ruined our evening together. What happened was this: on Sunday evenings, I go over to the duplex to watch True Blood because he has HBO. Usually we're snuggling on the couch together. This Sunday, I didn't want to touch him. My unresponsiveness to his hand on my knee or his attempt to hold my hand or rub my leg hurt him. I wasn't intending to hurt him, but I truly had no interest in physical expressions of affection. While Robert sat there confused and hurt, I was confused as well. I expressed this yesterday in my post also when I wondered what else I could possibly want from my family who has already apologized. Why was I still punishing Robert? He apologized. I accepted his apology and forgave him. Why couldn't I feel affectionate toward him? Well...Dr. Brizendine has a suggestion.
"...male love circuits get an extra kick when stress levels are high. After an intense physical challenge, for instance, males will bond quickly and sexually with the first willing female they lay eyes on. This may be why military men under the stress of war often bring home brides. Women, by contrast, will rebuff advances or expressions of affection and desire when under stress. The reason may be that the stress hormone cortisol blocks oxytocin's action in the female brain, abruptly shutting off a woman's desire for sex and physical touch."
Oxytocin is, recent research is finding, a pleasure hormone in men and women. It helps us feel good and feel good about feeling good. If cortisol floods the brain and blocks the reception of pleasure, then a woman under the influence of cortisol seems to be less likely to find affectionate touch as affectionate as it is under "normal" circumstances. I would wager a pretty big bet that my brain was saturated with cortisol Sunday evening. I was feeling a great deal of stress at the thought of addressing a new stressful situation.
What I'm learning is that it does not matter so much if something seems trivial to other people. Others might look at my post from yesterday and think, "She's getting this bent out of shape over magnets?" That's fine. What matters is that I perceived it as a stressor, and perhaps even gave it additional weight because of the magnitude of stressors already influencing my life. It's the age-old "just one more thing gone wrong" situation.
I don't know if I'm ready yet to buy wholesale into the endocrinological theories, but to be fair, I haven't finished the book. I've read about half of it now. The ideas do help to offer some neurological explanations for my feelings. I was so caught up in the moral implications behind my behavior and feelings that I was only delving deeper into depressed feelings. Releasing cortisol in my brain does not make me a horrible person. It simply means that I am reacting to something perceived as a stressor, and the next step is to relieve that something of its perceived stressful nature.
The Female Brain maps out the hormonal changes and challenges the female brain undergoes throughout a lifetime, beginning in infancy and ending in the mature brain. It explains teenaged girls, single women who are looking for a relationship, pregnant women, nursing women, mothers, premenopausal women, menopausal women, and postmenopausal women. Even at this point with my knowledge of the book's theories so lacking, I would recommend reading it with a compassionate male. I'm bringing my book over to Robert's this evening so we can look at it closer together.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Miniscule things that don't matter...mattering
A year ago, something like this wouldn't have hit my radar. A year from now, something like this won't matter. Which means that it doesn't matter. It didn't matter a year ago, won't matter a year from now, and doesn't matter today.
But I'm finding that it's mattering. And that's unbelievably frustrating.
Remember that entry I wrote a little while ago outlining my to-do list? And remember how that whole to-do list required addresses before I could make a move on it? Well, here's my new bride-in-training lesson: there are consequences to every (non-) action.
This blog is about the save-the-date magnets I wanted. See? Something stupid that doesn't matter.
Yesterday, I spent from 12 noon to 2:45 on the phone with my mom (although, admittedly, our conversation was broken into thirds because I called Robert twice). I was so exhausted by the end of the conversation that I could hardly think straight. Here's the problem. I asked my family, Robert, and his family to send me their final lists with addresses by the second week of November. I asked a month ago. Literally, a month ago. I wanted the addresses two weeks ago because I had wanted to order the save-the-dates by November 10th. My mom only just yesterday e-mailed me her addresses. Robert's finalizing his. His parents are finalizing theirs. I should have them by Wednesday this week.
But it's too late for the save-the-dates now.
We were supposed to send the save-the-dates out by December, which we could have done if I had received the addresses when I asked for them. Because we're getting married over Memorial Day weekend, and because everyone on my family's list is out-of-town and will need a hotel room, we have to mail out the invitations by the end of January so they'll be delivered by February. If we were to do the save-the-dates anyway, they would be delivered about a week ahead of the invitations. Why do that? What's the point?
I am upset. I'm trying to pinpoint why I'm still upset because I've heard and accepted apologies from both sides of the family for the past three weeks now. Robert was extremely upset last night (because I was so angry), so I ruined our evening together. I slept on it. I should be over it now. But I'm not. I'm still feeling angry every time I consider what happened.
The only thought that keeps running circles in my mind is this: I realize getting the addresses to me was not Number One on their priority list (although it was on mine). But to be so apologetic and to feel so sorry right now is too late--I wish they had had this much concern for the addresses when it still mattered.
That's a horrible and hurtful thought. But it's the only one I keep "hearing" in my mind.
And what do I want now? They've already apologized. I've accepted their apologies. What more could I possibly want from them that would assuage this feeling?
I'm disappointed because something I so looked forward to is no longer an option.
But it's frivolous.
This is stupid...but it's still affecting me.
I don't know why I'm not letting it go yet.
I told my mom and Robert yesterday that come December 1st, I am passing the buck. I am relinquishing all bridal duties and handing them over to other people to care about and worry about and fret about. I can't do it. I have exams in February (not sure the date yet), and I haven't even looked at one of my lists yet. From December 1st on to February, I am a student first. Other people can tell me what they need from me and lose it when I don't give it to them on time. *sigh* No, I wouldn't do that...but the thought has crossed my mind. I'm not quite that spiteful, though.
When I expressed this to my mom, she became immediately sympathetic and said, "honey, you know we're behind you and are very supportive of you." I know. I wanted to say, "Yes, but emotional support doesn't give me addresses in enough time to send out save-the-dates." I don't want to throw away the gift of emotional support...but at the same time, I need more than emotional support right now. I need physical support. I'm done with being commended for all the hard work I've done this year and how impressive it is that I've pushed through despite a number of obstacles. I'm done pushing through. I'm out of energy. I'm just going to get by now.
And hopefully the things that were in the top places on my priority list will find themselves in the top places on others' priority lists after December 1st.
But I'm finding that it's mattering. And that's unbelievably frustrating.
Remember that entry I wrote a little while ago outlining my to-do list? And remember how that whole to-do list required addresses before I could make a move on it? Well, here's my new bride-in-training lesson: there are consequences to every (non-) action.
This blog is about the save-the-date magnets I wanted. See? Something stupid that doesn't matter.
Yesterday, I spent from 12 noon to 2:45 on the phone with my mom (although, admittedly, our conversation was broken into thirds because I called Robert twice). I was so exhausted by the end of the conversation that I could hardly think straight. Here's the problem. I asked my family, Robert, and his family to send me their final lists with addresses by the second week of November. I asked a month ago. Literally, a month ago. I wanted the addresses two weeks ago because I had wanted to order the save-the-dates by November 10th. My mom only just yesterday e-mailed me her addresses. Robert's finalizing his. His parents are finalizing theirs. I should have them by Wednesday this week.
But it's too late for the save-the-dates now.
We were supposed to send the save-the-dates out by December, which we could have done if I had received the addresses when I asked for them. Because we're getting married over Memorial Day weekend, and because everyone on my family's list is out-of-town and will need a hotel room, we have to mail out the invitations by the end of January so they'll be delivered by February. If we were to do the save-the-dates anyway, they would be delivered about a week ahead of the invitations. Why do that? What's the point?
I am upset. I'm trying to pinpoint why I'm still upset because I've heard and accepted apologies from both sides of the family for the past three weeks now. Robert was extremely upset last night (because I was so angry), so I ruined our evening together. I slept on it. I should be over it now. But I'm not. I'm still feeling angry every time I consider what happened.
The only thought that keeps running circles in my mind is this: I realize getting the addresses to me was not Number One on their priority list (although it was on mine). But to be so apologetic and to feel so sorry right now is too late--I wish they had had this much concern for the addresses when it still mattered.
That's a horrible and hurtful thought. But it's the only one I keep "hearing" in my mind.
And what do I want now? They've already apologized. I've accepted their apologies. What more could I possibly want from them that would assuage this feeling?
I'm disappointed because something I so looked forward to is no longer an option.
But it's frivolous.
This is stupid...but it's still affecting me.
I don't know why I'm not letting it go yet.
I told my mom and Robert yesterday that come December 1st, I am passing the buck. I am relinquishing all bridal duties and handing them over to other people to care about and worry about and fret about. I can't do it. I have exams in February (not sure the date yet), and I haven't even looked at one of my lists yet. From December 1st on to February, I am a student first. Other people can tell me what they need from me and lose it when I don't give it to them on time. *sigh* No, I wouldn't do that...but the thought has crossed my mind. I'm not quite that spiteful, though.
When I expressed this to my mom, she became immediately sympathetic and said, "honey, you know we're behind you and are very supportive of you." I know. I wanted to say, "Yes, but emotional support doesn't give me addresses in enough time to send out save-the-dates." I don't want to throw away the gift of emotional support...but at the same time, I need more than emotional support right now. I need physical support. I'm done with being commended for all the hard work I've done this year and how impressive it is that I've pushed through despite a number of obstacles. I'm done pushing through. I'm out of energy. I'm just going to get by now.
And hopefully the things that were in the top places on my priority list will find themselves in the top places on others' priority lists after December 1st.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
And sometimes my students surprise me
Friday afternoon, I held my 2 p.m. class for all of 15 minutes. I collected their essays, passed out their final exam review sheets, and wished them a happy Thanksgiving. I figured my 3 p.m. class would be the same way.
At 2:56 p.m., the fire alarm started blaring. I was in my office, already gathering my course materials when it went off. Instead, I muttered a curse under my breath, grabbed my tote bag, my purse, all the course materials (that I normally wouldn't have brought with me), put on my sweater and scarf, and headed down the stairs. After five flights, I decided to check on my classroom, in case any early birds stayed in the classroom during the alarm. About three were in the room, so I motioned to them through the window to come downstairs with me, and we evacuated the building. In the short time it took me to go down eight flights of stairs, I brainstormed and problem-solved as best as one can when a siren is blasting one's already overly-sensitive eardrums. (Mine were overly-sensitive because yesterday I was experiencing an uncomfortable amount of pressure from the fluid that had accumulated during my illness earlier this week.) I set up shop against the wall on the concourse, ignoring the "safety squad" as they demanded that I move even further back. No, sorry, I knew I was safe. If I saw flames or smelled smoke, I would have moved even further back. I spread all the review sheets across the wall (there were three packets to pass out) and took up the three essays from the students who followed me. As they left, I asked them to pass the word along to their classmates, if they saw them, to find me on the concourse.
I didn't expect to see another student.
I stood out in the near-freezing temperatures, wind blowing to an annoying extent (how could I have forgotten to bring my paper weights?), and waited.
In the course of twenty minutes, I did in fact see additional waves of students, received their papers, and gave them their final exam review sheets. At one point, when I was sure I had seen the last of them (and still needed about 15 papers), I turned around and saw walking around the corner a flock of 10 students. Apparently one of my other students had called her classmate who was standing on the other side of the building with ten classmates. I was so grateful for their ability to find one another and pass the message along.
By 3:25, I had all 30 papers and was on my way to the transit to go home.
While I understand they had a vested interest in turning in their papers on time, I am also still grateful that they didn't flake out on me. I expected most of them to e-mail me, whining in some form or another. I was trying to come up with a plan B for this Thanksgiving holiday: do I accept their papers by e-mail? Do I want to print off 30 6-page papers on my personal printer? Do I give them an extension to the next Monday, even though my 2 p.m. class didn't get one? I'm grateful that I wasn't made to even give these questions any additional attention.
Sometimes my students choose to behave brainlessly. Sometimes they surprise me, though.
At 2:56 p.m., the fire alarm started blaring. I was in my office, already gathering my course materials when it went off. Instead, I muttered a curse under my breath, grabbed my tote bag, my purse, all the course materials (that I normally wouldn't have brought with me), put on my sweater and scarf, and headed down the stairs. After five flights, I decided to check on my classroom, in case any early birds stayed in the classroom during the alarm. About three were in the room, so I motioned to them through the window to come downstairs with me, and we evacuated the building. In the short time it took me to go down eight flights of stairs, I brainstormed and problem-solved as best as one can when a siren is blasting one's already overly-sensitive eardrums. (Mine were overly-sensitive because yesterday I was experiencing an uncomfortable amount of pressure from the fluid that had accumulated during my illness earlier this week.) I set up shop against the wall on the concourse, ignoring the "safety squad" as they demanded that I move even further back. No, sorry, I knew I was safe. If I saw flames or smelled smoke, I would have moved even further back. I spread all the review sheets across the wall (there were three packets to pass out) and took up the three essays from the students who followed me. As they left, I asked them to pass the word along to their classmates, if they saw them, to find me on the concourse.
I didn't expect to see another student.
I stood out in the near-freezing temperatures, wind blowing to an annoying extent (how could I have forgotten to bring my paper weights?), and waited.
In the course of twenty minutes, I did in fact see additional waves of students, received their papers, and gave them their final exam review sheets. At one point, when I was sure I had seen the last of them (and still needed about 15 papers), I turned around and saw walking around the corner a flock of 10 students. Apparently one of my other students had called her classmate who was standing on the other side of the building with ten classmates. I was so grateful for their ability to find one another and pass the message along.
By 3:25, I had all 30 papers and was on my way to the transit to go home.
While I understand they had a vested interest in turning in their papers on time, I am also still grateful that they didn't flake out on me. I expected most of them to e-mail me, whining in some form or another. I was trying to come up with a plan B for this Thanksgiving holiday: do I accept their papers by e-mail? Do I want to print off 30 6-page papers on my personal printer? Do I give them an extension to the next Monday, even though my 2 p.m. class didn't get one? I'm grateful that I wasn't made to even give these questions any additional attention.
Sometimes my students choose to behave brainlessly. Sometimes they surprise me, though.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
And now a word from our sponsors
Buy a PedEgg! Seriously!
Last night before bed, I completed part two of my foot rescue, lol. I love the way my feet feel now. :) They feel...normal. Lol. I think it was wearing flip flops for the past several months that destroyed my feet in general. But they are so soft and smooth now, which is a relief--I had almost thought that my feet were going to be horrible for the rest of my life. (My maternal family has a history of not having the best of feet, though I think in more recent generations we're taking better care of ourselves.)
*happy*
Okay, thus ends the infomercial. ;)
Last night before bed, I completed part two of my foot rescue, lol. I love the way my feet feel now. :) They feel...normal. Lol. I think it was wearing flip flops for the past several months that destroyed my feet in general. But they are so soft and smooth now, which is a relief--I had almost thought that my feet were going to be horrible for the rest of my life. (My maternal family has a history of not having the best of feet, though I think in more recent generations we're taking better care of ourselves.)
*happy*
Okay, thus ends the infomercial. ;)
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Late-night girliness
As I was getting ready for bed, I decided to try out the new PedEgg I had bought the other day. I've been skeptical of it because, well, they sell it on TV...and it looks like a cheese grater for the feet. But the damn thing actually worked! And I guess rubbing a cheese grater on one's callouses should work, shouldn't it? The only thing is that you have to be very careful not to rub in the wrong direction. I caught it a little on my thumb (not really sure how that happened), and it took out a little chunk. Thank goodness I didn't do that to my feet!
But seriously, my feet feel wonderful. I need to do it again tonight after washing my feet because they're in such bad shape. I didn't want to do too much on the first try, but I can notice a real difference. After using the PedEgg, I rubbed my feet down with Bath and Body Works "Heel of Approval." I think it's a shea butter blend, and it's this great remedy to tough skin. I use it on my elbows as well. I slept in my thin socks to sort of seal in the lotion (rather than to let it get wiped off onto the sheets), and this morning...whew...feet of awesomeness. *happy* :D
So the moral to the story is that you should buy a PedEgg and give it a try. It's wonderful. :)
But seriously, my feet feel wonderful. I need to do it again tonight after washing my feet because they're in such bad shape. I didn't want to do too much on the first try, but I can notice a real difference. After using the PedEgg, I rubbed my feet down with Bath and Body Works "Heel of Approval." I think it's a shea butter blend, and it's this great remedy to tough skin. I use it on my elbows as well. I slept in my thin socks to sort of seal in the lotion (rather than to let it get wiped off onto the sheets), and this morning...whew...feet of awesomeness. *happy* :D
So the moral to the story is that you should buy a PedEgg and give it a try. It's wonderful. :)
Friday, November 14, 2008
Bizarro dreams from the sleep deprived
I don't know what's been wrong with me, but my dreams have been increasingly troubling lately--and they have troubled me so greatly that the quantity of hours no longer matters in the quality of my sleep. I know I'm under stress, but the lack of sleep certainly does not help in my stress level.
Over the past few days, I've had the following dreams:
1. Unable to find Robert
I don't remember great details about the dream, but I do know that I was at the university (or something like it), and I was trying desperately to find Robert. In the dream, he had an office either in the same building as mine or in the library. At first, I was on the elevator in my building to find his office, and I had these numbers repeating themselves erratically in my mind. Four of those numbers are actually my office number, which doesn't surprise me. Regardless of how hard I looked, I could not find Robert in my building. So, off I went to the library. Just like Disney World, my university had a monorail system that attached central buildings to one another, which included my building to the library. I hopped the monorail to the library, sure I could find him there. I took the monorail from one floor to the next as it wound up and through the library like a snake. When we got to the top floor and I still hadn't found Robert, I had a sudden true panic attack which woke me up. One I felt as I awoke.
2. Strangling the eight-legged monster
Robert and I were in my parents' home, and it was just the two of us. I was getting the impression that he and I had just arrived before everyone else, but that we were going to leave and meet them somewhere. As we were leaving our luggage in our separate rooms (because this dream was apparently a real-time, pre-wedding dream), I noticed something dark scurry past me in my periphery. I felt suddenly angry and annoyed, but I couldn't figure out why. I went downstairs to meet with Robert and to tell him about what I saw, when I saw the thing peeking out at me from behind the couch. I went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel (I guess because I thought it was a bug and that I was going to squish it), but when I returned it had disappeared again. Robert kept swearing that he hadn't seen anything and that he didn't know what I was talking about. At this point, I was in a frenzy and couldn't calm myself down until I had killed this creature. Robert told me it was okay but that we were going to be late, so I grabbed my coat and purse and started to walk toward the door...when it popped out from behind the couch again. I cursed, threw my stuff on it, and then went for a shoe. When I turned around, I could see it clearer, and it had scurried closer to me. It was a little black, furry, eight-legged creature. Not so much spider-like as feline, actually. I knew the only way to kill it was to strangle it because it was too big to squish. I grabbed it by its spindly neck, felt my thumbs press into its windpipe, and watched as its eyes began to well up while it stared up at me. There was no doubt that this creature was pure evil, but it looked pitiful as I strangled it. I realized it was still struggling to inhale, so I pressed my fingers over its nose as well to speed along the process. Right before I woke up, its eyes rolled back in its head, and I guess I killed it. I awoke with a pounding heart and with tears in my eyes.
3. Aural hallucinations on the bus
Today, as I was on the bus back to Robert's home (where I park my car because he's so much closer to the bus stop than I am), I nodded off. My ride takes about fifteen minutes, so I really shouldn't have nodded off...but I did. I never fully fell asleep, but instead had little spurts of vivid dreams. I hate when I dream like that because it truly disturbs me. The vivid dreams today were focused entirely on the aural. Everything I dreamt about was screaming, loud and jarring noises, incessant pounding. The bus ride itself was very quiet and smooth because I was one of only four people on the whole bus. When I arrived at Robert's, I was unexpectedly exhausted and developing quite a large and painful headache. Despite that we haven't spent a great deal of time with each other this week, I simply couldn't stay...I had just enough energy to get myself home. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I was starting to feel very dizzy, on top of the imposing headache. By the time I got home, I felt so sick that I nearly couldn't prepare my dinner. I managed to feed myself sufficiently, passed out, had a few more vivid dreams (which I've subsequently forgotten), and am now feeling much better than I was this afternoon.
What I'd like to know, though, is what is going on in my subconscious to give me such disturbing dreams.
Over the past few days, I've had the following dreams:
1. Unable to find Robert
I don't remember great details about the dream, but I do know that I was at the university (or something like it), and I was trying desperately to find Robert. In the dream, he had an office either in the same building as mine or in the library. At first, I was on the elevator in my building to find his office, and I had these numbers repeating themselves erratically in my mind. Four of those numbers are actually my office number, which doesn't surprise me. Regardless of how hard I looked, I could not find Robert in my building. So, off I went to the library. Just like Disney World, my university had a monorail system that attached central buildings to one another, which included my building to the library. I hopped the monorail to the library, sure I could find him there. I took the monorail from one floor to the next as it wound up and through the library like a snake. When we got to the top floor and I still hadn't found Robert, I had a sudden true panic attack which woke me up. One I felt as I awoke.
2. Strangling the eight-legged monster
Robert and I were in my parents' home, and it was just the two of us. I was getting the impression that he and I had just arrived before everyone else, but that we were going to leave and meet them somewhere. As we were leaving our luggage in our separate rooms (because this dream was apparently a real-time, pre-wedding dream), I noticed something dark scurry past me in my periphery. I felt suddenly angry and annoyed, but I couldn't figure out why. I went downstairs to meet with Robert and to tell him about what I saw, when I saw the thing peeking out at me from behind the couch. I went to the kitchen to grab a paper towel (I guess because I thought it was a bug and that I was going to squish it), but when I returned it had disappeared again. Robert kept swearing that he hadn't seen anything and that he didn't know what I was talking about. At this point, I was in a frenzy and couldn't calm myself down until I had killed this creature. Robert told me it was okay but that we were going to be late, so I grabbed my coat and purse and started to walk toward the door...when it popped out from behind the couch again. I cursed, threw my stuff on it, and then went for a shoe. When I turned around, I could see it clearer, and it had scurried closer to me. It was a little black, furry, eight-legged creature. Not so much spider-like as feline, actually. I knew the only way to kill it was to strangle it because it was too big to squish. I grabbed it by its spindly neck, felt my thumbs press into its windpipe, and watched as its eyes began to well up while it stared up at me. There was no doubt that this creature was pure evil, but it looked pitiful as I strangled it. I realized it was still struggling to inhale, so I pressed my fingers over its nose as well to speed along the process. Right before I woke up, its eyes rolled back in its head, and I guess I killed it. I awoke with a pounding heart and with tears in my eyes.
3. Aural hallucinations on the bus
Today, as I was on the bus back to Robert's home (where I park my car because he's so much closer to the bus stop than I am), I nodded off. My ride takes about fifteen minutes, so I really shouldn't have nodded off...but I did. I never fully fell asleep, but instead had little spurts of vivid dreams. I hate when I dream like that because it truly disturbs me. The vivid dreams today were focused entirely on the aural. Everything I dreamt about was screaming, loud and jarring noises, incessant pounding. The bus ride itself was very quiet and smooth because I was one of only four people on the whole bus. When I arrived at Robert's, I was unexpectedly exhausted and developing quite a large and painful headache. Despite that we haven't spent a great deal of time with each other this week, I simply couldn't stay...I had just enough energy to get myself home. I hadn't eaten anything all day, and I was starting to feel very dizzy, on top of the imposing headache. By the time I got home, I felt so sick that I nearly couldn't prepare my dinner. I managed to feed myself sufficiently, passed out, had a few more vivid dreams (which I've subsequently forgotten), and am now feeling much better than I was this afternoon.
What I'd like to know, though, is what is going on in my subconscious to give me such disturbing dreams.
The idiocy of students and the frustration of Ms. W
This afternoon, I walk into the computer lab to prepare today's lesson plan (ganked almost entirely from last semester's lesson plan on the same text), and I check my e-mail. This is what I get from the a report from the English Center regarding a student's visit this morning:
"[Student] needed help on writing a thesis statement. I was not able to help him write his own because he did not know what the tales were about or which ones he was going to compare. We discussed what a thesis statement was, and we went over a very basic example of how to draft a thesis statement."
There are so many things wrong with this report that led me to nearly diminish into a blind rage.
1. Because my students were taught the proper way to write a thesis statement in their required composition classes, but because they also forgot everything they were taught, I had the lovely pleasure these past several weeks of reeducating them on proper thesis statement construction. I wrote "rules of thesis statements" up on the board (beginning with rule #1: you cannot write a good paper unless you have a good thesis statement), and walked them through the nitty gritty details of each rule to a pain-staking extent.
2. After explaining the rules of thesis statement construction to them, we then composed two thesis statements--one for both of the poets we read for that class day. We wrote them together; the prompt from me was, "If you were writing a paper on this poet, what sort of argument might you make?" We brainstormed key points of the poet's biography as well as key moments in the poetry. We made discriminate choices of which points were "facts" versus "opinions," recalling one of the rules that facts do not a thesis statement make. We then crafted the thesis statement together, all the while referring to the rules of thesis statements that were conveniently displayed on the board.
3. Today is Friday. Their paper is due a week from today. On Wednesday, I assigned to my students the following homework: write and turn in your thesis statement from your upcoming paper. Do not turn in the entire introductory paragraph or the entire paper. I only want the thesis statement. I did this for two reasons:
3.a. The first reason was to give them concentrated feedback on their thesis statements before it's too late. They'll also receive a grade (out of ten points) on their thesis statement, using the paper grading rubric, so they can see where their thesis statement falls at the moment. I plan to comment in great detail, which will require an enormous amount of time and effort on my part, but needs to be done. I am NOT reading a second set of horrible papers. I'm just not.
3.b. The second reason was to check up on them and make sure they weren't screwing around with their papers. The damn things are due the Friday before Thanksgiving break. This is a big game weekend. I'm trying to help these kids out by making sure they're staying on top of their work. Excuse me for going a bit beyond my job requirements.
Do you see where Ms. Wood would suddenly become irate with this student? Not only have we already discussed (AT LENGTH) the stories this student wants to write about (discussions he was present for), but we've already learned together exactly what a thesis statement is, what it does, and how to write one (again, another lesson he was present for). The reports from the English Center are anonymous, but I wish I could find out who consulted with my student. I just want to tell this person thanks for their attempt to help an apparent hopeless cause, and to also sort of defend myself by explaining that this student should already know how to write a thesis statement.
You know what this is? This is the student demonstrating laziness a few hours before the homework is due. This student, I would not be surprised, expected the consultant to do his homework for him.
Sorry, kiddo. That's not how the system works.
*a la Hulk* Ms. Wood SMAAASH!!!!
"[Student] needed help on writing a thesis statement. I was not able to help him write his own because he did not know what the tales were about or which ones he was going to compare. We discussed what a thesis statement was, and we went over a very basic example of how to draft a thesis statement."
There are so many things wrong with this report that led me to nearly diminish into a blind rage.
1. Because my students were taught the proper way to write a thesis statement in their required composition classes, but because they also forgot everything they were taught, I had the lovely pleasure these past several weeks of reeducating them on proper thesis statement construction. I wrote "rules of thesis statements" up on the board (beginning with rule #1: you cannot write a good paper unless you have a good thesis statement), and walked them through the nitty gritty details of each rule to a pain-staking extent.
2. After explaining the rules of thesis statement construction to them, we then composed two thesis statements--one for both of the poets we read for that class day. We wrote them together; the prompt from me was, "If you were writing a paper on this poet, what sort of argument might you make?" We brainstormed key points of the poet's biography as well as key moments in the poetry. We made discriminate choices of which points were "facts" versus "opinions," recalling one of the rules that facts do not a thesis statement make. We then crafted the thesis statement together, all the while referring to the rules of thesis statements that were conveniently displayed on the board.
3. Today is Friday. Their paper is due a week from today. On Wednesday, I assigned to my students the following homework: write and turn in your thesis statement from your upcoming paper. Do not turn in the entire introductory paragraph or the entire paper. I only want the thesis statement. I did this for two reasons:
3.a. The first reason was to give them concentrated feedback on their thesis statements before it's too late. They'll also receive a grade (out of ten points) on their thesis statement, using the paper grading rubric, so they can see where their thesis statement falls at the moment. I plan to comment in great detail, which will require an enormous amount of time and effort on my part, but needs to be done. I am NOT reading a second set of horrible papers. I'm just not.
3.b. The second reason was to check up on them and make sure they weren't screwing around with their papers. The damn things are due the Friday before Thanksgiving break. This is a big game weekend. I'm trying to help these kids out by making sure they're staying on top of their work. Excuse me for going a bit beyond my job requirements.
Do you see where Ms. Wood would suddenly become irate with this student? Not only have we already discussed (AT LENGTH) the stories this student wants to write about (discussions he was present for), but we've already learned together exactly what a thesis statement is, what it does, and how to write one (again, another lesson he was present for). The reports from the English Center are anonymous, but I wish I could find out who consulted with my student. I just want to tell this person thanks for their attempt to help an apparent hopeless cause, and to also sort of defend myself by explaining that this student should already know how to write a thesis statement.
You know what this is? This is the student demonstrating laziness a few hours before the homework is due. This student, I would not be surprised, expected the consultant to do his homework for him.
Sorry, kiddo. That's not how the system works.
*a la Hulk* Ms. Wood SMAAASH!!!!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The best news a girl can get at 7 in the morning!
Robert got into the MA program!! :D
He received an e-mail this morning from the coordinator of graduate studies telling him the good news. This is part of the reason why I love our university--they always send an e-mail first and then they'll send out the official letters. It keeps students from panicking. I have to say, though, that this whole month has been worrisome. I had forgotten how long the admissions process is, and I won't say that I was starting to worry yet, but probably another week and I would have marched into the English department myself to ask questions. Which would have actually hurt Robert more than helped him. Which is why I kept myself in the office.
The general plan is for Robert to take classes next Spring, which would finish up the requisite course work for the MA. Because he's been accepted halfway through the year, he was not offered the teaching assistantship. But he can be reconsidered for the position in Fall...that'll just be something he'll have to jump on and be pretty persistent with, because he'll be competing against the Fall incoming students. In the meantime, he'll keep working. We're not sure where, but he'll keep working.
I'm already starting to think of additional jobs I can take on to help out. I can tutor more hours of the week, which increases my monthly income substantially, and I can apply for research assistantships, some of which pay as much as my teaching assistantship.
But, anyway, his acceptance into the MA program is the best news I could have received via text message at 7 in the morning! :)
He received an e-mail this morning from the coordinator of graduate studies telling him the good news. This is part of the reason why I love our university--they always send an e-mail first and then they'll send out the official letters. It keeps students from panicking. I have to say, though, that this whole month has been worrisome. I had forgotten how long the admissions process is, and I won't say that I was starting to worry yet, but probably another week and I would have marched into the English department myself to ask questions. Which would have actually hurt Robert more than helped him. Which is why I kept myself in the office.
The general plan is for Robert to take classes next Spring, which would finish up the requisite course work for the MA. Because he's been accepted halfway through the year, he was not offered the teaching assistantship. But he can be reconsidered for the position in Fall...that'll just be something he'll have to jump on and be pretty persistent with, because he'll be competing against the Fall incoming students. In the meantime, he'll keep working. We're not sure where, but he'll keep working.
I'm already starting to think of additional jobs I can take on to help out. I can tutor more hours of the week, which increases my monthly income substantially, and I can apply for research assistantships, some of which pay as much as my teaching assistantship.
But, anyway, his acceptance into the MA program is the best news I could have received via text message at 7 in the morning! :)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Moving right along... *whistles*
Well, although I haven't received all the addresses yet (and for good reason, considering everyone is unbelievably busy right now), that hasn't stopped me from being productive. I spent most of the day today (including during class time while my students were doing group work) on the computer answering e-mails.
I contacted our photographer to get the details for the photograph, which, as I mentioned earlier, caused a little snag in our magnet plans, sort of. She's charging a $50/item copyright release fee, which means that the photograph we've selected will actually cost us $50 (instead of $11). Of course, I balked. Mom was still supportive of it, and Robert basically left it up to us (although he was with me for a while with the whole balking thing). If my mom is okay with paying $50 for a photo to use on the save-the-date magnets, then that's fine with me. Still makes me a little uneasy in my core, but she's okay with it...so.... I can't wait until we get the photo from our photographer so I can send it along to the magnet people to get our proof.
I also contacted our event coordinator at the hotel regarding quite a few details for the reception. She's so absolutely sweet. I'm sure she says this to all her clients, but she closed the e-mail with, "I can't wait until the beginning of the year when we start the detailed plans for your wedding! I feel like one of my friends is getting married!!!" Yes, I know she probably says that to a lot of her clients...but that doesn't stop it from giving me the warm fuzzies! :) Robert and I are so happy we're going with the Marriott because this woman has been such a great help. The other hotel we looked at for the reception had an event coordinator who really couldn't be bothered with us. My belief is that if a family is coming to look at a potential venue in order to spend a large sum of money, then that family should be treated with the respect that comes with spending money (and really in any quantity!). We just didn't receive that attention from this other hotel. As soon as we finished our meeting, Robert and I looked at our parents and just shook our heads. My sister did end up going through this hotel for the bridal shower, and it turned out that our instinct about this event coordinator was right on the mark--she doesn't answer e-mails, she doesn't want to meet in person, she doesn't want to talk on the phone, she gets confused by her own contract, and she's disrespectful of her clients even though they're attempting to give her money. Even though this hotel was a little cheaper than the Marriott (and not by much, really), my mom told me that she thinks we made the right choice. She said, "Well, it's that age-old adage: you get what you pay for."
Well, anyway, got side-tracked by my own thoughts....
So I spent the whole day on the computer. I also just spent the past couple of hours working on our wedding website, which included adding all the hotel accommodations that my sister had researched a couple weeks ago. I think there are about thirteen different hotels so far, and I put them order from closest to the church to furthest. Later, I'll add a map from the reception back to the hotels listed. Hopefully that'll help the out-of-town guests.
We haven't gotten the rest of the wedding website up and running yet, so hang tight for the release of the web address. It will definitely be ready by the time we send out the save-the-dates because we'll put the address on the magnets as well.
Despite my having to spend the whole day on the computer, I'm still enjoying this part of the wedding planning process! :)
I contacted our photographer to get the details for the photograph, which, as I mentioned earlier, caused a little snag in our magnet plans, sort of. She's charging a $50/item copyright release fee, which means that the photograph we've selected will actually cost us $50 (instead of $11). Of course, I balked. Mom was still supportive of it, and Robert basically left it up to us (although he was with me for a while with the whole balking thing). If my mom is okay with paying $50 for a photo to use on the save-the-date magnets, then that's fine with me. Still makes me a little uneasy in my core, but she's okay with it...so.... I can't wait until we get the photo from our photographer so I can send it along to the magnet people to get our proof.
I also contacted our event coordinator at the hotel regarding quite a few details for the reception. She's so absolutely sweet. I'm sure she says this to all her clients, but she closed the e-mail with, "I can't wait until the beginning of the year when we start the detailed plans for your wedding! I feel like one of my friends is getting married!!!" Yes, I know she probably says that to a lot of her clients...but that doesn't stop it from giving me the warm fuzzies! :) Robert and I are so happy we're going with the Marriott because this woman has been such a great help. The other hotel we looked at for the reception had an event coordinator who really couldn't be bothered with us. My belief is that if a family is coming to look at a potential venue in order to spend a large sum of money, then that family should be treated with the respect that comes with spending money (and really in any quantity!). We just didn't receive that attention from this other hotel. As soon as we finished our meeting, Robert and I looked at our parents and just shook our heads. My sister did end up going through this hotel for the bridal shower, and it turned out that our instinct about this event coordinator was right on the mark--she doesn't answer e-mails, she doesn't want to meet in person, she doesn't want to talk on the phone, she gets confused by her own contract, and she's disrespectful of her clients even though they're attempting to give her money. Even though this hotel was a little cheaper than the Marriott (and not by much, really), my mom told me that she thinks we made the right choice. She said, "Well, it's that age-old adage: you get what you pay for."
Well, anyway, got side-tracked by my own thoughts....
So I spent the whole day on the computer. I also just spent the past couple of hours working on our wedding website, which included adding all the hotel accommodations that my sister had researched a couple weeks ago. I think there are about thirteen different hotels so far, and I put them order from closest to the church to furthest. Later, I'll add a map from the reception back to the hotels listed. Hopefully that'll help the out-of-town guests.
We haven't gotten the rest of the wedding website up and running yet, so hang tight for the release of the web address. It will definitely be ready by the time we send out the save-the-dates because we'll put the address on the magnets as well.
Despite my having to spend the whole day on the computer, I'm still enjoying this part of the wedding planning process! :)
"To-Do's before the I Do's"
This summer, as a "have a speedy recovery" gift for my back surgery, my grandmother sent me a cute note pad with the phrase "To-Do's before the I Do's." I've been using this note pad quite a lot in the past months as the wedding approaches. The current To-Do's:
1. Obtain the finalized invitation lists and addresses from both sides of the family. My list is already done. :)
-->Everything that follows on this To Do list depends upon the completion of this item.
2. Create address labels for the invitations and save-the-date envelopes. (Mine are already done.)
3. Create labels for the response cards. This would include the "plus ones" for certain guests.
4. Order save-the-date magnets. We've hit a bit of a snag in our original plan, but I think we're restructuring nicely and should have very lovely save-the-dates.
5. Order wedding invitations, response cards, and thank-you notes.
6. Order the reception favors. I'm not going into specific detail here about what they are because quite a few of my readers are wedding guests, and I don't want to ruin the surprise. :) But, suffice to say, it's a cute gift and not wholly useless.
I've been really enjoying this portion of the wedding planning process. It was a bit touchy in the beginning because there were so many personalities and so many individual tastes and sometimes we'd clash. But I think we've all gotten to a point where we understand how to communicate with one another, and I also think we're easing up a little bit on the necessity of particular details. My motto, which has really helped me gain some perspective, throughout this half of the process has been: "It doesn't matter if X falls through, because at the end of the day Robert and I will be married." There have been a few people to tell me they probably can't come to the wedding, and while I'm disappointed about their prospective absence, the reality is that Robert and I will still be married. This gives me comfort. Otherwise, I'm sure I'd spiral into a depression if I focused on other people and their problems with the wedding plans.
Since the engagement, I've heard from almost everyone, "Enjoy this...it flies by." Well, that's true. But I think the key portion of the advice is to enjoy it because it can be far too easy not to enjoy it. I will be the first to admit that I have a tendency to obsess over details and the perfect execution of plans (part of that whole left-brained, Type A personality), and if there is a threat to the perfection of my plans, then I can become extremely defensive and unhappy. This has already happened a few times in the early half of the wedding planning process, which discouraged me from "enjoying it." What I'm learning is that to really "enjoy it," I need to be willing to let go of some of my "perfect" plans, as well as to understand that flexibility will be the only way to maintain a sense of humor as we approach the wedding day.
Here's my vision for the wedding day: others will be busily rushing around me, putting out small fires, absorbing all the stress of the day. Meanwhile, I will be sitting back and relaxing, focusing all my mental and emotional energy on Robert and our lives together.
I'm not historically good at letting go. I'm learning to let go, which requires a great deal of patience and trust in other people that they'll care enough about the plans to take care of details for me.
Breathing also helps me "enjoy it."
1. Obtain the finalized invitation lists and addresses from both sides of the family. My list is already done. :)
-->Everything that follows on this To Do list depends upon the completion of this item.
2. Create address labels for the invitations and save-the-date envelopes. (Mine are already done.)
3. Create labels for the response cards. This would include the "plus ones" for certain guests.
4. Order save-the-date magnets. We've hit a bit of a snag in our original plan, but I think we're restructuring nicely and should have very lovely save-the-dates.
5. Order wedding invitations, response cards, and thank-you notes.
6. Order the reception favors. I'm not going into specific detail here about what they are because quite a few of my readers are wedding guests, and I don't want to ruin the surprise. :) But, suffice to say, it's a cute gift and not wholly useless.
I've been really enjoying this portion of the wedding planning process. It was a bit touchy in the beginning because there were so many personalities and so many individual tastes and sometimes we'd clash. But I think we've all gotten to a point where we understand how to communicate with one another, and I also think we're easing up a little bit on the necessity of particular details. My motto, which has really helped me gain some perspective, throughout this half of the process has been: "It doesn't matter if X falls through, because at the end of the day Robert and I will be married." There have been a few people to tell me they probably can't come to the wedding, and while I'm disappointed about their prospective absence, the reality is that Robert and I will still be married. This gives me comfort. Otherwise, I'm sure I'd spiral into a depression if I focused on other people and their problems with the wedding plans.
Since the engagement, I've heard from almost everyone, "Enjoy this...it flies by." Well, that's true. But I think the key portion of the advice is to enjoy it because it can be far too easy not to enjoy it. I will be the first to admit that I have a tendency to obsess over details and the perfect execution of plans (part of that whole left-brained, Type A personality), and if there is a threat to the perfection of my plans, then I can become extremely defensive and unhappy. This has already happened a few times in the early half of the wedding planning process, which discouraged me from "enjoying it." What I'm learning is that to really "enjoy it," I need to be willing to let go of some of my "perfect" plans, as well as to understand that flexibility will be the only way to maintain a sense of humor as we approach the wedding day.
Here's my vision for the wedding day: others will be busily rushing around me, putting out small fires, absorbing all the stress of the day. Meanwhile, I will be sitting back and relaxing, focusing all my mental and emotional energy on Robert and our lives together.
I'm not historically good at letting go. I'm learning to let go, which requires a great deal of patience and trust in other people that they'll care enough about the plans to take care of details for me.
Breathing also helps me "enjoy it."
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Well, you know, she could be an Amazonian goddess
A positive post, since I've had such low ones in the recent past.
Yesterday was an energizing day--because I was tired of lecturing to my students of Shakespeare's greatness and complexities in The Tempest, I decided to have my students entertain me for the bulk of class. This turned out to be a fascinating and fun class, so anyone teaching drama (or really any creative, interpretive text) is welcome to adapt this lesson to their own classroom.
My students knew we were doing a group activity for Friday's class, so they were generally prepared. I assigned them to groups (because of the size of my class, I prefer a group count of five). Each group was then assigned a scene to look at closely; then, they were asked to choose a passage of no more than 15 lines, but which also must be an interaction between at least two characters. Two group members were assigned the roles for the two characters, which they would interpret and perform for the class. The non-acting group members would explain the significance of that particular passage to the rest of the class, after the performance of course. I also asked the students to applaud after every performance by each group because it's quite a show of bravery to come up and perform Shakespeare in front of one's classmates (and teacher). I divided the groups this way:
Group One: 3.1
Group Two: 3.2
Group Three: 3.3
Group Four: act 4*
Group Five: act 5*
Me: Prospero's Epilogue
*In The Tempest, acts 4 and 5 have only a single scene. The groups with these acts were capable of handling the size of the act just as easily as the other groups with smaller selections.
I let them discuss their selection for about fifteen minutes, and I also circulated the room to chat with each group about their ideas for their performance. Most groups were shy and did not want to perform in front of everyone, but once I reminded them that we were working with a comedy, they perked up and some decided to really make their selection borderline absurd. I have two examples that won out in my mind for creativity.
Scene: 3.1: Miranda and Ferdinand's clandestine marriage
The group who had this scene used a creative interpretation which really worked. The female student who played Miranda decided to play her like a tomboy, considering Miranda was raised on an island rather than in the court. The male student who played Ferdinand decided to play him like a prissy-pants prince, since that is what he is. Most fascinating, though, is that the group chose to perform a sort of "dumb show": the acting students did not speak the lines; rather, two of their group members read the lines for them while the actors demonstrated the lines. The female student reading for Miranda read her lines in a deep, uncultured voice. The male student reading for Ferdinand read his lines in a higher-pitched, more refined voice. Their classmates appreciated their creativity. When I asked them about their interpretation, they made some very interesting arguments about gender performance, and ended with the statement, "Well, you know, she could be seen as a kind of Amazonian goddess, considering she didn't grow up as civilized as her father." I agreed and thought something of this nature would serve as a fun paper topic (which are due on two weeks).
Scene: 3.2: Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban drink and drink and drink
The group who had this scene utilized a great prop: a water bottle wrapped in a brown lunch bag. The three acting students wandered aimlessly around the front of the classroom, each grabbing greedily for the bottle (or "sack") for one more swig. My student playing Trinculo stole the show: he "forgot" his lines (they had their books in front of them), so the other actors had to prompt him along, and he'd say, "Yes!" and then move on with the rest of his line. He stumbled so much around the front of the room that he ultimately had to sit down and rest his head on the desk to give the impression that the room was spinning. The other two at this point slid down the wall and sat on the ground. My Trinculo even fake vomited in the middle of his speech...the best part was that he continued the speech even after vomiting. The whole class cracked up and thought these three were complete geniuses. The best part, to me, was that I have seen it performed almost exactly this way at the Shakespeare Tavern (which they wouldn't have seen). It was so great.
After the last group performed (and was applauded), I went back up to the front of the classroom to perform the Epilogue (I had been sitting in the back of the classroom as an audience member). The Epilogue to The Tempest, of course, follows the tradition of addressing the audience for a last-ditch appeal for applause. I emoted, I emphasized important words, I made the words have meaning, and I had all 30 pairs of eyes staring attentively at me. It was such a high, and I rode that high for the rest of the day into the evening. Just before dismissing my class, I joked with the students that I should always end class with their applause.
I hope that I made at least one student understand Shakespeare a little better than they had before. I hope I made some sort of difference in their interpretation of such old literature. At the very least, I hope they enjoyed class a little more than they normally do. I sure did.
"Give me your hands, if we be friends."
Yesterday was an energizing day--because I was tired of lecturing to my students of Shakespeare's greatness and complexities in The Tempest, I decided to have my students entertain me for the bulk of class. This turned out to be a fascinating and fun class, so anyone teaching drama (or really any creative, interpretive text) is welcome to adapt this lesson to their own classroom.
My students knew we were doing a group activity for Friday's class, so they were generally prepared. I assigned them to groups (because of the size of my class, I prefer a group count of five). Each group was then assigned a scene to look at closely; then, they were asked to choose a passage of no more than 15 lines, but which also must be an interaction between at least two characters. Two group members were assigned the roles for the two characters, which they would interpret and perform for the class. The non-acting group members would explain the significance of that particular passage to the rest of the class, after the performance of course. I also asked the students to applaud after every performance by each group because it's quite a show of bravery to come up and perform Shakespeare in front of one's classmates (and teacher). I divided the groups this way:
Group One: 3.1
Group Two: 3.2
Group Three: 3.3
Group Four: act 4*
Group Five: act 5*
Me: Prospero's Epilogue
*In The Tempest, acts 4 and 5 have only a single scene. The groups with these acts were capable of handling the size of the act just as easily as the other groups with smaller selections.
I let them discuss their selection for about fifteen minutes, and I also circulated the room to chat with each group about their ideas for their performance. Most groups were shy and did not want to perform in front of everyone, but once I reminded them that we were working with a comedy, they perked up and some decided to really make their selection borderline absurd. I have two examples that won out in my mind for creativity.
Scene: 3.1: Miranda and Ferdinand's clandestine marriage
The group who had this scene used a creative interpretation which really worked. The female student who played Miranda decided to play her like a tomboy, considering Miranda was raised on an island rather than in the court. The male student who played Ferdinand decided to play him like a prissy-pants prince, since that is what he is. Most fascinating, though, is that the group chose to perform a sort of "dumb show": the acting students did not speak the lines; rather, two of their group members read the lines for them while the actors demonstrated the lines. The female student reading for Miranda read her lines in a deep, uncultured voice. The male student reading for Ferdinand read his lines in a higher-pitched, more refined voice. Their classmates appreciated their creativity. When I asked them about their interpretation, they made some very interesting arguments about gender performance, and ended with the statement, "Well, you know, she could be seen as a kind of Amazonian goddess, considering she didn't grow up as civilized as her father." I agreed and thought something of this nature would serve as a fun paper topic (which are due on two weeks).
Scene: 3.2: Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban drink and drink and drink
The group who had this scene utilized a great prop: a water bottle wrapped in a brown lunch bag. The three acting students wandered aimlessly around the front of the classroom, each grabbing greedily for the bottle (or "sack") for one more swig. My student playing Trinculo stole the show: he "forgot" his lines (they had their books in front of them), so the other actors had to prompt him along, and he'd say, "Yes!" and then move on with the rest of his line. He stumbled so much around the front of the room that he ultimately had to sit down and rest his head on the desk to give the impression that the room was spinning. The other two at this point slid down the wall and sat on the ground. My Trinculo even fake vomited in the middle of his speech...the best part was that he continued the speech even after vomiting. The whole class cracked up and thought these three were complete geniuses. The best part, to me, was that I have seen it performed almost exactly this way at the Shakespeare Tavern (which they wouldn't have seen). It was so great.
After the last group performed (and was applauded), I went back up to the front of the classroom to perform the Epilogue (I had been sitting in the back of the classroom as an audience member). The Epilogue to The Tempest, of course, follows the tradition of addressing the audience for a last-ditch appeal for applause. I emoted, I emphasized important words, I made the words have meaning, and I had all 30 pairs of eyes staring attentively at me. It was such a high, and I rode that high for the rest of the day into the evening. Just before dismissing my class, I joked with the students that I should always end class with their applause.
I hope that I made at least one student understand Shakespeare a little better than they had before. I hope I made some sort of difference in their interpretation of such old literature. At the very least, I hope they enjoyed class a little more than they normally do. I sure did.
"Give me your hands, if we be friends."
Friday, November 7, 2008
The Golden Rule: or, What I Have Learned
I've always known, and have only come to accept in my adult life, that my locus of control surrounds only myself, my reactions, and my actions. Others may interact with and occasionally influence my locus of control, but they are not controlled by it.
I am learning now that The Golden Rule is a bit of a scam.
We are encouraged to treat others as we would have them treat us, which I adhere to as best I can with some admitted flaws along the way. Where I find the scam to exist is in the unspoken reverse golden rule that by treating others in the manner of which we would have them treat us, we almost expect them to treat us as we have treated them. I've been warned against wanting to adhere to the reverse golden rule, but I think in this situation, the warning falls short.
Recently, I have noticed a great deal of petty arguments spring up in an online discourse community regarding the election results. Yes, there was some bickering throughout the 20-month campaign, but nothing quite to this extent. Because I know I am feeling weakened by my stress level, I have opted out of this discourse community until the waters calm. In the meantime, however, I have been engaged in an argument of my own, which I am finding difficult to ignore.
As I've made quite clear, I am not interested in advertising my political positions publicly. On occasion, I will voice my opinions when pertinent and only to those whom I trust. I believe in the privacy of my ballot as well as that of others' ballots. I am not interested in what selections people made, just THAT they made them. To me, the only important part of this election was voter turn-out. This in mind, I have not engaged anyone who I know is of a different opinion from me because I am not interested in the proceeding argument. This is me living according to The Golden Rule: I am politely ignoring and respecting people's privacy in their political views because it is how I would have them behave toward me. This in mind, I would like to be able to require that those who have not been engaged by me would not attempt to make assumptions or judgments on what they cannot know. I would like to require respect and privacy. I know this is not a possibility as my locus of control is limited. I am struggling not to react to these antagonistic remarks and hurtful judgments. I struggle because my mental energy is weakened now. I will not delve deeper into that part of the issue because I believe I already beat that dead horse into the ground with my last post.
An example for argument's sake.
Person A supports Idea 1.
Person B supports Idea 2 (or, at least Person A assumes).
Person B, knowing that he or she disagrees with Person A, chooses to refrain from argument--to each his or her own, Person B believes.
Person A, unprovoked, criticizes Person B with assumptions and impolite judgments once Person A realizes that Person B does not support Idea 1.
Person B, confused and hurt, wants to correct Person A, but he or she realizes that doing so would only stoke the flames. Person B decides to reward Person A the winning blow.
What makes The Golden Rule a scam? The unspoken suggestion that, "if you treat others the way you would have them treat you, then they will treat you the way you have treated them." This is untrue and perhaps explains the reason The Golden Rule was never presented as an if-then clause.
Robert and I agreed this morning (while he was calming down the Person B of my example) that when we teach our children The Golden Rule, we will do so with the admonition, "treat others as you would have them treat you, but do not expect them to treat you the way you have treated them." Such clarification should prevent future confusion and hurt.
Perhaps this Person B is too naive for her own good.
I am learning now that The Golden Rule is a bit of a scam.
We are encouraged to treat others as we would have them treat us, which I adhere to as best I can with some admitted flaws along the way. Where I find the scam to exist is in the unspoken reverse golden rule that by treating others in the manner of which we would have them treat us, we almost expect them to treat us as we have treated them. I've been warned against wanting to adhere to the reverse golden rule, but I think in this situation, the warning falls short.
Recently, I have noticed a great deal of petty arguments spring up in an online discourse community regarding the election results. Yes, there was some bickering throughout the 20-month campaign, but nothing quite to this extent. Because I know I am feeling weakened by my stress level, I have opted out of this discourse community until the waters calm. In the meantime, however, I have been engaged in an argument of my own, which I am finding difficult to ignore.
As I've made quite clear, I am not interested in advertising my political positions publicly. On occasion, I will voice my opinions when pertinent and only to those whom I trust. I believe in the privacy of my ballot as well as that of others' ballots. I am not interested in what selections people made, just THAT they made them. To me, the only important part of this election was voter turn-out. This in mind, I have not engaged anyone who I know is of a different opinion from me because I am not interested in the proceeding argument. This is me living according to The Golden Rule: I am politely ignoring and respecting people's privacy in their political views because it is how I would have them behave toward me. This in mind, I would like to be able to require that those who have not been engaged by me would not attempt to make assumptions or judgments on what they cannot know. I would like to require respect and privacy. I know this is not a possibility as my locus of control is limited. I am struggling not to react to these antagonistic remarks and hurtful judgments. I struggle because my mental energy is weakened now. I will not delve deeper into that part of the issue because I believe I already beat that dead horse into the ground with my last post.
An example for argument's sake.
Person A supports Idea 1.
Person B supports Idea 2 (or, at least Person A assumes).
Person B, knowing that he or she disagrees with Person A, chooses to refrain from argument--to each his or her own, Person B believes.
Person A, unprovoked, criticizes Person B with assumptions and impolite judgments once Person A realizes that Person B does not support Idea 1.
Person B, confused and hurt, wants to correct Person A, but he or she realizes that doing so would only stoke the flames. Person B decides to reward Person A the winning blow.
What makes The Golden Rule a scam? The unspoken suggestion that, "if you treat others the way you would have them treat you, then they will treat you the way you have treated them." This is untrue and perhaps explains the reason The Golden Rule was never presented as an if-then clause.
Robert and I agreed this morning (while he was calming down the Person B of my example) that when we teach our children The Golden Rule, we will do so with the admonition, "treat others as you would have them treat you, but do not expect them to treat you the way you have treated them." Such clarification should prevent future confusion and hurt.
Perhaps this Person B is too naive for her own good.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Working it out
Lately I've been in a bit of a funk, and I can't sort out the why. My life is going in such a positive direction. I'm engaged, all the wedding plans are going smoothly, I'm loved by the most wonderful man, and I love loving him.
In other arenas, though...part of me just feels so...down. Blue. Almost sad. But I'm not sad, am I? I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't be.
So, what's going on, Amanda?
Who knows?
I feel oversensitive lately. When people supposedly "tease" me, I've been unable to let it go. I feel a fierce need to defend myself and raise my hackles. Backed into a corner, I can't just turn my head and pretend I have all the space in the world. I'm not normally like this. I'm normally more easy-going and capable of rolling my eyes or shrugging my shoulders and letting it go. Lately, though, I've felt as though letting it go would actually be more reminiscent of lying down and acting a doormat than proving myself the stronger, bigger person. In response to this, I've left a discourse community I originally enjoyed participating in because I realized that I was getting involved in petty arguments that were serving more as distractions than character-enhancements.
But why the blues? I still can't sort it out.
Surely it isn't the studying...I've been here before; I know what it is to study for comps. The first time I sunk into a deep depression, but this time is different because I have Robert with me.
I find myself daydreaming more frequently. I fantasize about married life. Walking into the door to our home and seeing Robert, Milton, and the cats. Snuggling on the couch after dinner and before bed. Waking up to him. Cooking dinner together. Grocery shopping together. Cleaning the house together. Walking Milton together. Writing my dissertation with him beside me.
198 days left to go.
In other arenas, though...part of me just feels so...down. Blue. Almost sad. But I'm not sad, am I? I shouldn't be. I know I shouldn't be.
So, what's going on, Amanda?
Who knows?
I feel oversensitive lately. When people supposedly "tease" me, I've been unable to let it go. I feel a fierce need to defend myself and raise my hackles. Backed into a corner, I can't just turn my head and pretend I have all the space in the world. I'm not normally like this. I'm normally more easy-going and capable of rolling my eyes or shrugging my shoulders and letting it go. Lately, though, I've felt as though letting it go would actually be more reminiscent of lying down and acting a doormat than proving myself the stronger, bigger person. In response to this, I've left a discourse community I originally enjoyed participating in because I realized that I was getting involved in petty arguments that were serving more as distractions than character-enhancements.
But why the blues? I still can't sort it out.
Surely it isn't the studying...I've been here before; I know what it is to study for comps. The first time I sunk into a deep depression, but this time is different because I have Robert with me.
I find myself daydreaming more frequently. I fantasize about married life. Walking into the door to our home and seeing Robert, Milton, and the cats. Snuggling on the couch after dinner and before bed. Waking up to him. Cooking dinner together. Grocery shopping together. Cleaning the house together. Walking Milton together. Writing my dissertation with him beside me.
198 days left to go.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Disappointment
I am desperately disappointed in California. How is it right that I get to enjoy the institution of marriage while my homosexual friends (who are in equally committed relationships) cannot? I could cry right now. I've been near tears all day already, just thinking of the possibility.
My only relief comes in knowing that the 18,000 Californian same-sex couples who were married this summer will still be seen as having a valid marriage. Which seems to defeat the purpose of the passing Proposition 8 in the first place, but I won't dispute it now. They can apparently still face legal action which could somehow nullify their marriage, but I hope something like that would never happen.
I just don't understand. People say that they felt the sanctity of marriage was threatened when homosexual couples wanted to marry. How is the sanctity of my marriage threatened by any other couple's marriage? My marriage will be sanctified because of the way Robert and I will regard our marriage. I believe heterosexual couples who marry unprepared or lacking any plan for commitment are the ones who are actually threatening the sanctity of marriage. Why is the divorce rate so high? I know there are legitimate divorces out there; I know that very well. But I also know that there are illegitimate divorces out there. People who simply are bored with each other or who refuse to try to make it work. People who cheat on their faithful, loving spouses threaten the sanctity of marriage. Obviously these are only heterosexual couples, considering homosexuals aren't marrying (or, rather, are marrying but as a fraction of a percent of the entire marrying population).
If we go along with the argument that marriage is for procreation, then should we refuse to allow infertile couples to marry? Or those couples who aren't interested in having children and who would rather focus on their careers? When they say they want to protect the family, what family are they talking about? Robert and I regard each other as family, although we're not yet married. What if we don't have any children and don't end up adopting? Is our marriage less legitimate or less sanctified than a marriage resulting in children? I am obviously confused by the entire argument I've heard conservatives repeatedly exclaim. None of my questions can be satisfactorily answered.
I'm so upset. I felt so hopeful for California because I thought it could mean something for the rest of the country one day. If Robert and I are blessed with children one day, I hope they are granted the right to marry the love of their life, despite what their private parts are.
This makes me sad.
My only relief comes in knowing that the 18,000 Californian same-sex couples who were married this summer will still be seen as having a valid marriage. Which seems to defeat the purpose of the passing Proposition 8 in the first place, but I won't dispute it now. They can apparently still face legal action which could somehow nullify their marriage, but I hope something like that would never happen.
I just don't understand. People say that they felt the sanctity of marriage was threatened when homosexual couples wanted to marry. How is the sanctity of my marriage threatened by any other couple's marriage? My marriage will be sanctified because of the way Robert and I will regard our marriage. I believe heterosexual couples who marry unprepared or lacking any plan for commitment are the ones who are actually threatening the sanctity of marriage. Why is the divorce rate so high? I know there are legitimate divorces out there; I know that very well. But I also know that there are illegitimate divorces out there. People who simply are bored with each other or who refuse to try to make it work. People who cheat on their faithful, loving spouses threaten the sanctity of marriage. Obviously these are only heterosexual couples, considering homosexuals aren't marrying (or, rather, are marrying but as a fraction of a percent of the entire marrying population).
If we go along with the argument that marriage is for procreation, then should we refuse to allow infertile couples to marry? Or those couples who aren't interested in having children and who would rather focus on their careers? When they say they want to protect the family, what family are they talking about? Robert and I regard each other as family, although we're not yet married. What if we don't have any children and don't end up adopting? Is our marriage less legitimate or less sanctified than a marriage resulting in children? I am obviously confused by the entire argument I've heard conservatives repeatedly exclaim. None of my questions can be satisfactorily answered.
I'm so upset. I felt so hopeful for California because I thought it could mean something for the rest of the country one day. If Robert and I are blessed with children one day, I hope they are granted the right to marry the love of their life, despite what their private parts are.
This makes me sad.
A new America
This morning I woke up in a country where it actually is possible for any kid to grow up and become president.
Who knows? Maybe next up will be a woman. Or a Hispanic man or woman. Or an Asian man or woman. Or *big gasp* a Native American man or woman. I feel like the door has been blown wide open. Did it come too late? Yes. Several people last night at the party I attended challenged everyone's self-congratulatory tone for electing a black man to the presidency. It's far too late. But at least it's happened. Finally, finally.
I feel like when I tell my future children, "Yes, you can have any job you want to have," I won't have to feel like I'm lying to them.
As Miranda marveled: "How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world/ That has such people in't."
(I realize there is more at stake here than race. I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge what this means for our children's futures and how they can view themselves. The government and political arena is independent from this and was hopefully the only factor anyone considered when casting their vote for either candidate.)
Who knows? Maybe next up will be a woman. Or a Hispanic man or woman. Or an Asian man or woman. Or *big gasp* a Native American man or woman. I feel like the door has been blown wide open. Did it come too late? Yes. Several people last night at the party I attended challenged everyone's self-congratulatory tone for electing a black man to the presidency. It's far too late. But at least it's happened. Finally, finally.
I feel like when I tell my future children, "Yes, you can have any job you want to have," I won't have to feel like I'm lying to them.
As Miranda marveled: "How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world/ That has such people in't."
(I realize there is more at stake here than race. I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge what this means for our children's futures and how they can view themselves. The government and political arena is independent from this and was hopefully the only factor anyone considered when casting their vote for either candidate.)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
My First Time
No, no, it isn't THAT kind of post. ;) This is about my first time at the polls.
I was 18 and registered to vote in time for the 2000 elections. I went to university an hour and a half away from my polling location, knew nothing of absentee ballots, and had a bunch of professors on that Tuesday who refused to allow me to miss my classes to go vote. They believed I should have been more responsible and applied for an absentee ballot beforehand. Perhaps I should have. I missed out on that election, but I stayed up all night with my roommate watching the election results and waiting with bated breath for the announcement of our next president. Little did we know at the time that we would be sitting that way for quite some time while the votes were recounted over and over.
In 2004 I had moved to a different state, but this time I was smarter. I applied for an absentee ballot two months before election day. November 1st rolled around, we were voting the next day...and no absentee ballot. I finally received my ballot the afternoon of November 2nd when the mail was delivered. I scurried to the nearest fax machine, paid a dollar to send it, and was told by the clerk, "I don't know if that'll be counted." I said, "It's worth a shot, isn't it??" He faxed my ballot into my polling place. Three weeks later, I received an official letter of rejection from the state saying that my ballot had not been counted because it hadn't arrived in time. At that moment, I decided that I would change my registration depending on where I would be by the 2008 election.
In 2006, after I had been accepted to my PhD program and knew I'd be hanging around here for several more years, I began the process of establishing my citizenship in this state. I changed my driver's license, tag registration, and voter registration to this state so that I would be capable of voting when the election finally came around again. It took longer than it feels like it should have just because I had some issues to work through with my citizenship in my home state--ah, bureaucracy. When I finally had in hand my new voter registration card, I became extremely excited about the upcoming presidential election.
I woke up this morning around 6 a.m., took my shower, got ready, and went to my polling place. I arrived around 6:45, there was no parking and the line wrapped around the building...almost twice. I parked about three blocks away, but I was happy to do so--I was enlivened by the sheer numbers of voters so early in the morning. The doors opened, the line inched forward. I read a couple of pages in my book, and next thing I knew: I was at the side of the building rather than the back. The line continued to move very quickly; I was in the doors by 7:15. Probably the longest line was the one inside to receive my ballot. I watched closely as the officials chastised people for using the wrong pen on the ballot. Our ballot consisted of incomplete arrows pointing to the names of the candidates and amendments. When casting the vote, the voter was supposed to draw a line from the end of the arrow to the front of the arrow, completing the center. Apparently only a specific type of pen would show up on the machines; people were not using the provided pens and were instead relying on the Bic pens in their purses or pockets. As they were corrected and chastised, I made mental notes. I kept my eyes peeled for open desk space so that I didn't stand around in confusion like so many others; I didn't want to gum up the works. I received my ballot from two very sweet old ladies (one of whom told me her daughter has my name and called it a "good Southern name," lol) and off I quickly went to the closest empty desk space. I drew my arrows, voted yes on most of the amendments because of their usefulness (and because I fortunately researched them before heading out to the polls). I got up, got in the line to cast my ballot, and then put the ballot in the machine as number 160. There was another machine in the building that was up in the 150s. It was only 7:40 in the morning. The polls had barely been opened at this one place had already reached over 300 ballots, and there were at least 300 more people outside when I left.
I have to say, my heart filled with happiness to see that. About a quarter of the voters in my line were people from my age group, which is the most scrutinized age group in this (or any) election. I was happy to see so many young people. I know all my friends have voted, and I'm extremely proud of us.
Time to watch the election results. I'm going to a party tonight to color in a map of the United States with red and blue pens. It'll be fun. :) I'm excited that by this time tomorrow, we'll have a new president. I do hope my guy wins, but I'm frankly just happy to be done with George Bush.
Good job everyone! I think this will have been a great election year based on turn-out. :)
I was 18 and registered to vote in time for the 2000 elections. I went to university an hour and a half away from my polling location, knew nothing of absentee ballots, and had a bunch of professors on that Tuesday who refused to allow me to miss my classes to go vote. They believed I should have been more responsible and applied for an absentee ballot beforehand. Perhaps I should have. I missed out on that election, but I stayed up all night with my roommate watching the election results and waiting with bated breath for the announcement of our next president. Little did we know at the time that we would be sitting that way for quite some time while the votes were recounted over and over.
In 2004 I had moved to a different state, but this time I was smarter. I applied for an absentee ballot two months before election day. November 1st rolled around, we were voting the next day...and no absentee ballot. I finally received my ballot the afternoon of November 2nd when the mail was delivered. I scurried to the nearest fax machine, paid a dollar to send it, and was told by the clerk, "I don't know if that'll be counted." I said, "It's worth a shot, isn't it??" He faxed my ballot into my polling place. Three weeks later, I received an official letter of rejection from the state saying that my ballot had not been counted because it hadn't arrived in time. At that moment, I decided that I would change my registration depending on where I would be by the 2008 election.
In 2006, after I had been accepted to my PhD program and knew I'd be hanging around here for several more years, I began the process of establishing my citizenship in this state. I changed my driver's license, tag registration, and voter registration to this state so that I would be capable of voting when the election finally came around again. It took longer than it feels like it should have just because I had some issues to work through with my citizenship in my home state--ah, bureaucracy. When I finally had in hand my new voter registration card, I became extremely excited about the upcoming presidential election.
I woke up this morning around 6 a.m., took my shower, got ready, and went to my polling place. I arrived around 6:45, there was no parking and the line wrapped around the building...almost twice. I parked about three blocks away, but I was happy to do so--I was enlivened by the sheer numbers of voters so early in the morning. The doors opened, the line inched forward. I read a couple of pages in my book, and next thing I knew: I was at the side of the building rather than the back. The line continued to move very quickly; I was in the doors by 7:15. Probably the longest line was the one inside to receive my ballot. I watched closely as the officials chastised people for using the wrong pen on the ballot. Our ballot consisted of incomplete arrows pointing to the names of the candidates and amendments. When casting the vote, the voter was supposed to draw a line from the end of the arrow to the front of the arrow, completing the center. Apparently only a specific type of pen would show up on the machines; people were not using the provided pens and were instead relying on the Bic pens in their purses or pockets. As they were corrected and chastised, I made mental notes. I kept my eyes peeled for open desk space so that I didn't stand around in confusion like so many others; I didn't want to gum up the works. I received my ballot from two very sweet old ladies (one of whom told me her daughter has my name and called it a "good Southern name," lol) and off I quickly went to the closest empty desk space. I drew my arrows, voted yes on most of the amendments because of their usefulness (and because I fortunately researched them before heading out to the polls). I got up, got in the line to cast my ballot, and then put the ballot in the machine as number 160. There was another machine in the building that was up in the 150s. It was only 7:40 in the morning. The polls had barely been opened at this one place had already reached over 300 ballots, and there were at least 300 more people outside when I left.
I have to say, my heart filled with happiness to see that. About a quarter of the voters in my line were people from my age group, which is the most scrutinized age group in this (or any) election. I was happy to see so many young people. I know all my friends have voted, and I'm extremely proud of us.
Time to watch the election results. I'm going to a party tonight to color in a map of the United States with red and blue pens. It'll be fun. :) I'm excited that by this time tomorrow, we'll have a new president. I do hope my guy wins, but I'm frankly just happy to be done with George Bush.
Good job everyone! I think this will have been a great election year based on turn-out. :)
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