Practicing My Craft

I look back at how I taught classes when I first began and I compassionately see where I was flawed and what I could have done better. Today, I know I can go up there--even with just a few minutes of preparation at times--and steer the ship where it needs to go. When I facilitate a discussion and others become involved, time seems to fly by. It feels natural and fun.

I like what I do for a living. I know this because I spend my down time thinking about how I can improve or what I can do next, even for things somewhat down the road that may or may not happen (a dangerous tightrope to meander the whole worrying about the future thing). I requested the opportunity to teach a section of English 250--Understaning Lit--because of the freedom I'd have to choose readings. Thinking about this excites me and I'm sure I look like a stupid eager beaver when discussing this, which can't be a bad thing I suppose. I'm sobered by the fact that this will probably not happen this early in my pro career, but here's to hoping.

I haven't written here for some time--shocker, I know!--and it was nice to take advantage of the moment.

Fight or Flight and What’s Inbetween: Living in a State of Constant Precarity in 2014

The world is going to shit—but why worry? That’s what a surprising percentage of human beings think and let you know. It hurts my brain so bad, it raises my hackles—I want to beat the stupid out of them.

Our planet is going to start pushing back harder than ever at the disrespectful shoving we’ve been doing to it for the past two-hundred and fifty years. That means a lot of people may die, massive migrations and human issues, famine, pestilence, all the warfare that can follow as a result of disruptions to the delicate balance of our world. The Book of Revelations and dystopian novels come to mind. Cormack McCarthy said it best when asked about writing “The Road.” To paraphrase: I think we [humans] will do ourselves in long before the planet does. 

A potential future like the images and text I’ve seen and read could become our reality, and much more likely for the up and coming generations. This thought becomes a bit of a stress weight on me thanks to my anxiety issue; I live in a perpetual state of precarity where I feel the need to fight and spew venom sometimes because I know the direction we’re headed as a species and I am not okay with that. I also have to be a kind person who takes shit and doesn’t overreact much, a professional who looks like he knows what he’s doing, someone who is stoic and in control—people feel safe around those types. I have to perform to survive. Yet deep down, I’m not always so happy and serene—there is a rage and a violent anger that is guttural and mean; if turned inwardly, as is oft the case since I don’t want to be arrested for beating stupid, inconsiderate people up, this rage may work to break me down with cancer or some other malady—just a crazy theory. Negativitiy and negative energy, I believe, has dire consequences over a person’s wellbeing.

And I don’t rage just at the realistic possibility that this world may become a much harsher and horrible place to live in, but also because I am a recently awoken slave to a system that wants to keep me down financially and in a state of perpetual debt. Yet I am a part of it, and have to participate in consumerism, if anything to soothe the pain of existence at times. I am mad because of my perpetual state of low pay compared to the cost of living and because it was not a simple and or straightforward road to getting health insurance and effective treatment. My chronic ankle condition causes me pain and affects my mobility—my physical and mental health have suffered as a result and I want them back. I want to be able to run again and play softball with friends; I have to make this a goal before I die or before the world as we know it is taken from us by the greedy evil in this world and their zealots wearing blinders. 

It’s easier to control people like me when we’re living a precarious existence. It takes a lot of energy and creativity to manage living in this world I was born into. People are speaking out and fighting back, but it’s only a matter of time before the revolution goes down—a revolution like no other it feels like. Or maybe the asteroid will get us before that. 

I hope it’s somewhat clear by now why I worry sometimes. I almost feel like someone suffering from PTSD symptoms when out in public. I sometimes feel like I’m in hostile territory and I often think about how I would disable an attacker and escape—I have this weird thing about looking for cameras and exits in places I go to; again, fight or flight—usually when I’m alone. For some reason, having a friend or loved one near me soothes my social issues, and so needed for longish driving trips; conversation makes the time go by so much more pleasantly. Please understand, I’m not equating myself to someone who has a serious and traumatic condition because I am not a veteran nor have I experienced that level of violence—I shudder to think what would happen if I had been exposed given my proclivity for mental illness. I almost signed up out of high school and would have been sent to Afghanistan or Iraq before my 4 years would have been up. That wasn’t my fate, which makes me think I could have died or been severely disabled if I had taken that path. I was meant for something else, apparently, and I’m still working on that at this moment by writing, by helping, maybe by inspiring here and there; I like having that be my purpose.

Irish Twins and Japanese Lunch with an American Citizen

My good friend/brother-in-arms and I had lunch today to celebrate him being a newly minted citizen of the US after having lived, studied and worked in this country for some years now. What better way to celebrate obtaining U.S. citizenship? Why a Japanese lunch of course! He had never tried this kind of food before, so I was worried, and we were trying a place that I had passed by for years and years but never took the time to scout and see if it was any good. Thankfully for us, the gods were smiling on Las Tunas Dr. today, and the place/food turned out to be really good (in addition to the good conversations we had this afternoon... all around good and motivating experience regarding future career and artistic plans). If I have done nothing else productive for these past few weeks since being "seasonally laid off", I have at least been good about reaching out and discussing with my closest and most beloved friends about how I am going to go about applying for PhD programs and how to market myself. Perhaps it's a good thing that I'm not a "self-starter" in the traditional sense, because then I'd be more likely to tackle things alone with no counsel/support system to inform me, reassure me, and just be there with me. Love in abundance the past two days, and I am very grateful to have that; being a lonewolf may seem attractive to and work for some, but I've learned that is not compatible with my true nature--I dig community, and I need it, much like how I need to blog more regularly.

But I digress; so we're having lunch and I am pleased that he is happy with the unscouted choice we made on a whim. He had a hot curry with chicken over rice and some pickled ginger on the side while I had a tonkatsu (breaded pork cutlet) with rice, a salad, and a broth soup--this is what I love about Japanese food: it's very minimalist and simple in both presentation and sometimes flavor, but it works, absolutely. However, this post is not so much about food, although that factored in to what was going on, and I could probably write a whole other post about the merits of Japanese cuisine, culture, aesthetics, etc. Anyhoo, how do Irish twins figure into this whole scenario? Well, first, let me give you a rough definition of what Irish twins means since I'm fairly certain that most people don't get the references or idioms that I make/use, which, as my friend told me, are almost always entertaining and informative (especially for him given that he grew up in Lebanon and spent time in France before moving here, so his cultural touchstones and experiences were different from mine; in a way, I'm his local guide to the area we both live in [it is my hometown after all] and to navigating the waters of now being a citizen [given our talk about jury duty service later on]).

Definition time! Brought to you by Urban Dictionary:

"The roots of the idea behind the term are actually quite old, although no one knows when, exactly, people first began to talk about Irish twins. In both England and the United States, a massive influx of Irish immigration in the 1800s led to a negative connotation with Irish people and society. This often happens when a large immigrant group begins to settle in mass numbers in a new country. The Irish were accused of being backwards and uncultured, and it was assumed that they were uneducated, dirty, and a general pox on society. As a result, the use of the word “Irish” began to be pejorative.

A number of derogatory terms incorporating stereotypes about the Irish began to emerge, including “Irish confetti” for thrown bricks and “Irish kiss” for a slap. Irish twins fits into this vernacular, and is actually insulting on multiple levels.

Firstly, the term pokes fun at the stereotypical fertility of Irish Catholic families, which traditionally do not use birth control. In addition, it implies that the Irish lack the ability to plan ahead or control themselves, having children in quick succession rather than responsibly spacing them. Finally, it suggests that the Irish do not understand the medical definition of twins, which involves two children conceived and born together."

Minimalistically, however, is the way I was using the term, to simply imply closeness of age between siblings, something we were discussing seemingly in passing about before I brought up the term "Irish Twins" as way to describe siblings born 9-12 months apart. The last paragraph of the above definition was kind of the Freudian reasoning by my use of the word, but I didn't mean it to only point at the Irish, but just as an idiom to describe the social phenomenon of siblings being so close in age. Now I remember, it was when my friend was discussing his nephew being 1 year and 4 months older than his soon-to-be-born niece. I used the term in a loving way, but now I realize all the negative connotations that such an idiom implies. Wow, I'm kind of a jerk if you think of it that way! But I am aware and sharing, putting it out there now, so I guess this is some kind of redemption.

Anyhoo, peace and love, peace and love; thanks for reading! :)

Travelling through the Dark by William Stafford

Traveling through the dark I found a deer

dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.

It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:

that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car   

and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;   

she had stiffened already, almost cold.

I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—

her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,   

alive, still, never to be born.

Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;   

under the hood purred the steady engine.

I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;   

around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,   

then pushed her over the edge into the river.