Other thoughts

Inspired by those kids at Campus Mawrtius (cf. my previous post...), I've decided to post some of my favorite quotes on the Classics, education, literature in general, etc...

Enjoy!

Anyone who has passed through the regular gradations of a Classical education, and is not made a fool by it, may consider himself as having had a very narrow escape.

--W. Hazlitt, On the Ignorance of the Learned, (1818)

The advantage of a Classical education is that it enables you to despise the wealth which it prevents you from achieving.
--Russell Green

To provoke dreams of terror in the slumber of prosperity has become the moral duty of literature.
--Ernst Fischer, Art Against Ideology (1966), tr. A. Bostock

Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become.
--C.S. Lewis, quoted in Paul Holmer, C.S. Lewis (1978)

Change does not necessarily assure progress, but progress implacably requires
change. Education is essential to change, for education creates both new wants
and the ability to satisfy them.
--Henry Steele Commager

Hmmmm

Campus Mawrtius, a blog I read compulsively, has posted quotes from Nietzsche on Classics and Classicists recently. As I find them rather compelling and especially significant to my current life, I thought I'd post some of them as well.

2/8
Other than the great number of incompetent classicists, there is at present a number of men who are born classicists, but who are prevented for various reasons from realizing themselves. But the crucial obstacle in the way of these born classicists is the misrepresentation of classical scholarship by unqualified classicists.

2/14
Very little can be gotten by sheer violence of industry, if the mind is obtuse. In the case of Homer, numerous classicists think that violence achieves results. The classics speak to us when they feel like doing so; not when we do.

2/20
Ah, it's a miserable history, the history of classical scholarship! The most nauseating erudition; the sluggish, passive indifference; timid acquiescence.--Who has ever possessed any freedom?

(((Precisely!! this is depressingly poignant.)))

2/22
My purpose is: to create complete hostility between our modern "culture" and classical civilization. Whoever wants to serve the former must hate the latter.

(((Must they???? This sums up my internal struggle with my decision to go to graduate school... I know that I believe this to be true- that whoever wants to serve our modern culture 'must hate' classical civilization--but more often than not, I refuse to acknowledge that because I am terrified of it. )))

2/23
It is not true that culture can be acquired only from the classics. We can get something from them, but not "culture" as that word is understood nowadays. Our own culture is based upon a completely castrated and mendacious classical curriculum. To see how little effect this curriculum has, just take a look at our classicists. Thanks to the classics, they should be our best educated men: are they?

**2/27: multas gratias tibi ago, Mister Pedantic, for making me aware of my painfully embarrassing spelling error--I misspelled Neitzsche, for Christ's sake.... Ironically enough-- the most recent Neitzsche quote on Campus Mawrtius is as follows:

The consistency which is honored in a scholar is pedantry when applied to the Greeks.

Do you have a suggestion?

Before I wrote my recent posts about grad school, an online buddy of mine and I were discussing what to do about my advisor. He told me to kick her in the head and then run out of her office the next time I had to meet with her. I must admit I was tempted...That same buddy and I had the following IM conversation this evening--

him: Any luck with that professor of yours?
me: nope...I have a test in her class tomorrow...c'est la vie, I suppose.
me: though I got some emails from my blog suggesting ways to approach the situation more like the ones you've suggested...
me: kicking her, having her killed, etc.
him: Great minds think alike.
me: indeed.
him: i hope that one day you can become this great all powerful person in the system and get the bitch fired and conjure up some mighty piece of dirt that will make sure she never gets another teaching job ever again.
him: it beats kicking her in the head....
me: thank you.

My buddy rocks...That is precisely what I needed to hear.

Anyone else have any ideas--silly or otherwise??


(fyi: I can't switch advisors and I've sought advice on how to deal with her from 2 other female professors- one in the department and the other who is the head of my TA program...I've also tried talking to my advisor directly...For now, I smile and nod, participate in class and generally try to kiss her ass as much as I can. )

Count Your Blessings

If anyone is still reading this blog--to you, and to those who've taken the time to leave me some wonderful feedback--Thank you.
I'm surprised anyone would bother to read QFD again after my novels about my current problems with grad school. I shall now refrain from such extravagant exercises in self-indulgence. Obviously, I needed to get some shit out. I'm glad I did. I'll stop now.

What I've neglected to write about at length are all the good things in my life--both as a graduate student & TA, and otherwise.

As much as my advisor pisses me off and makes me feel terrible--I really don't think she means to. In fact, I know she means well--and I respect her a great deal.

My professors this semester are great. I'm learning a lot and am feeling more inspired on many levels daily.

I love being a TA. I want to be a teacher. This is the most fulfilling aspect of my life--my interaction with students, and learning how better to interact with students.

My friends are amazing--both old and new. Period.

There is no one on this earth who has a better father than I do. I would be nothing without his love and support.

I could go on, but I won't--I'm busy trying not to fail out of grad school....I have Greek test tomorrow, among other things, and am teaching a class by myself on Wednesday! Wish me luck!

awwwwww

This collar is the best.

Kevin Smith is Laughing

Anyone who's seen Kevin Smith's movie Mallrats, would have laughed their asses off, as I did, at this morning's report on CBS about escalators.

For many people, the scariest part about escalators is stepping onto that first
step, or stepping off at the end. But safety experts say you could get seriously
hurt while riding an escalator as well.

Here's the link.

Graduate School Casualty part 2

Rested and feeling renewed, I started my second semester as a grad student.
This semester seemed do-able, at first. Now, 6 weeks into it, I'm not so sure.

At least I don't have the extra burden of having to adjust to a new place with new responsibilities; I have made some friends and am beginning to lead a somewhat normal life here. I got a cat, Cato (the younger), unexpectedly right before classes began, and it's nice to have some company.
On no day do I have to show up before noon, and on Mondays & Fridays my first class isn't until 2:30. This schedule is much more fitting to my habits, leaving me absolutely no excuse for missing class due to oversleeping. (I slept through my 10am Latin class nearly once a week last semester, and occasionally my 11am class as well.)

Despite the fact that the reading list exam will be held this semester (just after spring break--so I don't get to enjoy it), I don't think I'm going to be overwhelmed by work like before. So far, my workload has been manageable. . .Knock on wood. The best thing, however, about this semester is that all my classes are enjoyable.
For one class I'm reading Lucan (I Love Lucan-he is definitely one of my very favorite authors) at a slow pace that allows me to really read the text & not miss any subtleties. In another, even though I'm beginning to hate Greek, I'm reading Euripides. This is good because I have read almost no tragedy. Dante & Saint Augustine are covered in another class, and I'm excited to read both of these authors for the first time. Finally, I have a class in the comparative grammar of Greek and Latin, which is amazing & fascinating, but quite difficult. In addition, the classes I'm TA-ing are really interesting, with incredible & wonderful professors, and the reading for those classes is also on the reading list exam--so I can kill two birds with one stone, if you will.

My grades for first semester were abysmal. I knew they were going to be as horrible as they were, and I also knew that I would be in some sort of official trouble in consequence. Sometime early in this semester, I got a series of letters from the grad school and the department telling me of all the requirements for avoiding the loss of my assistantship and possible dismissal. I wasn't too worried at first, thinking that I could definitely do well enough this semester to avoid any problems. I figured I should probably go talk to my advisor anyway, and make sure I'd covered all my bases. Prior to my meeting with my advisor, I made a list of things I wanted to cover so we wouldn't get into another discussion of my 'need for nurture', and I psyched myself up as best I could.

Why on earth should I think this woman could treat me with any sort of decency or respect?
I don't know why I bothered. . . .

My advisor quickly dismissed the questions I had, telling me to ask someone else, and attended to her own agenda--which seemed to consist of making me feel as worthless as possible. First, she went through all the mistakes I made last semester, reminding me of each individual screw-up, and she spoke (as she always does) in a commanding tone, phrasing each of my failures as a question. It was as though she needed me to answer to her for each one of them--or as though I didn't answer to both my professors and her last semester. I don't think it does any good to (re)make excuses for last semester; I understand what I did wrong & why--I can't change it. Can I please move on now, and try to do better? This whole exercise was quite demeaning; as she went on, I had to recall & repent for each of my failures and I couldn't stop myself from crying. There I was, again, sitting in her office crying and feeling like shit. She asked me why I didn't go to her or another professor for help, and the only thing I could think to say at the time was, "Because I didn't want to sit in your office and cry again."

Moving on... We discussed the stipulations of my 'Academic Warning'. The letter from the grad school told me what to do so as not to be on actual probation. The letter from the department told me that I'd received a negative review for fall semester. The departmental letter was the biggie, I thought, as two semesters with a negative review meant dismissal. I learned then that a 3.0 cumulative GPA is vital--as 1) I need to have a 3.0 cumulative GPA by the end of the semester to avoid academic probation; 2) If I am placed on academic probation by the grad school, I'll receive a negative review from the department. Ouch. Remember that two semesters with a negative review from the department means automatic dismissal--and I already had one. As if that wasn't bad enough--the only mathematically possible way to do raise my cumulative GPA the necessary amount is to get a 4.0 this semester.

I checked the math, twice, and sat in disbelief in my advisor's office. A 3.8 will not do; only a 4.0....I feel good about this semester, but I'm not sure about a 4.0. I struggled to compose myself and we talked about working my ass off to get straight A's. As the meeting came to a close, I asked her what she would do-were she in my position; i.e. What are my options if I don't get a 4.0 and what, if anything, should I be doing to prepare for that? She just told me to focus on getting better grades. When I told her I understood that, all she could say was that no other school would accept me after being dismissed for poor grades. She had no encouraging words or anything resembling kindness for me whatsoever. I thanked her and hurried to my next class, trying to hide my tears.

That evening I posted something to get my feelings out, but couldn't yet write about the whole thing. Now, a few weeks later, I'm just trying to remain focused and optimistic. It's incredibly hard not to lose hope. Half of me thinks I can do it--if I just keep at it; the other half wonders why I continue to bother. Every day could mean the end of my academic career. I think the main reason why I haven't given up is that I don't have any idea what else to do or what my options are. Should I try to get into some Education program and get certified to teach? Should I try to get a job teaching Latin at a private school? Should I go home and work at a convenience store? I think maybe I wasn't meant to do this at all, and if somehow I manage to get a 4.0 this semester, I'll just fail in some other respect later and have to leave. I can't stand the thought of having to go home and face the shame of actually failing out of grad school (despite the fact that I did not fail anything.) It was so hard to get here--the cost & effort involved in actually packing and moving, and then in adjusting and settling down--it will be even harder to leave. I know my father will support me and love me no matter what I do, but I cannot stomach the idea of letting him down or not having him be proud of me anymore. . . I don't know. I guess I just think that this system blows, and shouldn't let this happen. I also think that this is my fault, and I shouldn't blame the system. Most of all, I feel like I never got a chance. . . and no one cares about that at all. I can't be the only one who's had this happen...


[I plan to finish the conclusion to this sometime this week...]

Graduate School Casualty

From kindergarten through high school, my report cards always said something about my not living up to my potential; "she's a smart girl, but needs to apply herself and focus less on socializing." Nonetheless, I never received poor grades. Even in high school when I was busy rebelling, and trying to prove that I didn't care, I still got A's & B's...I graduated with a 3.0 and planned to move to Montana with my bf to roam where the dental floss grows. I only applied to college because my father would have disowned me if I hadn't--and even then I applied to just one school.

Something changed for me in college. I discovered that I liked to succeed and to learn. After I was diagnosed with ADHD, I learned to manage my time and get the most out of studying. I took Latin because I had taken it in high school, and by the end of my first year I knew that my passion for the language was more than a fling. I majored in Latin, and somehow managed to graduate (cum laude) in 4 years with 3.9 average in my major classes.

I was so excited to go to grad school. I hated going to large lecture classes with professors who didn't care much about their subjects. I couldn't wait to go on & spend all my time focusing on what I love. My family & friends were insanely proud of me when I was accepted to all but one of the schools I applied to. I think they were all holding their breath until I graduated for fear that whatever apathy took hold of me in high school would return--- as though it was too good to be true. It made me feel soooo good to prove them wrong.

My first semester in grad school was a horrible mess. I knew it would be tough, but I was prepared to work hard and ready for change. Despite my optimistic attitude, I was completely overwhelmed by everything and had a really hard time adjusting. I realize that they try to weed out the weak in the first semester, but I was not at all ready for the reality of that. The workload was unbelievable, but it was the incredible pressure to succeed that weighed me down more. At 21, I was younger than the other four first-year students by 2 years at the least and the only female among them. Also, I was chosen as the Writing-Intensive Program TA for the Classics department, which is awesome, but they don't usually allow 1st year students to be TA's for a reason. The attention & time required to be a writing tutor for 2 classes of 30 students, as well as to fulfill regular TAtype duties, is greater than anyone in the department realizes.

This was my first time moving away from home, as my alma-mater may as well have been in my hometown at only 60 miles away. I had many friends and an active social life there, and still managed to get all my work done & get A's. Now, I didn't know anyone other than the other Classics grad students- who, with the exception of one gay guy, are all either married or living with their respective S.O.s. It was such a pain in the ass process to get my medication transferred here. And the methods I'd learned to work around my ADHD and still be a productive student were no longer working. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get anything completed & the work I was getting done was not very good. At the same time, my homesickness and loneliness on account of the isolation created by the nature of my work combined, and I became very depressed. I was having panic attacks every other day, headaches that no amount of tylenol could help, and was either sleeping for 18 hours at a time or getting only 2 hours a night. I started seeing a counselor and she helped a lot, but I was still having a lot of trouble. Both she and my father thought I should go to my advisor and let her know what was going on.

I had problems with my advisor from the first time I met her. She's the kind of person who thinks she's listening, but in reality hears 1/3 of what I have to say. Then, assuming she knows the rest, goes from there without stopping-- which usually results in her doing something on my behalf that becomes a giant problem I have to figure out how to fix without help. She actually got up and left while I was in mid-sentence once. On top of that, her focus is on women's studies and her involvement in the women's rights movement somehow relates to everything she's ever said to me. Don't misunderstand me--she is well respected in her field and has written some very important books. I actually find that I really get into what she has written-- but I can't stand her self-righteous feminist attitude, and feel that she has different expectations of me, as the only female, that I can't possibly live up to (and don't really care to for that matter.)

Still, I listened to my father's advice and went to her for help adjusting-- this was a HUGE mistake. My advisor assumed that I was having problems because I couldn't cut it & told me that I should probably just drop out and go back to Daddy. She berated me and insisted on telling me repeatedly how badly I was performing. (remember that at this time, class had only been in session for a month.) She said that my "need for nurture was obviously greater than that of my peers" and basically killed the last shred of hope I had for my future as a Latinist.

Completely defeated, I spent the next 3 days in my apartment crying & sleeping. Eventually, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and decided that the only thing to do was to keep trying my best. While the rest of the semester was still pretty rough, it did get better. I was not about to let my advisor, or anything else, get me down or make me quit. I still struggled; I couldn't manage to get even a B on anything no matter how hard I studied and I still didn't have any friends. I spent my birthday and Thanksgiving alone.

Because of my poor performance and the devastating encounter with my advisor, I didn't feel as though any of my professors cared in the least about me. I felt like each one of them had already made up their mind about the kind of student I am, despite my attempts to show them I was trying. Nothing I said in class was valid, nothing I wrote on exams was insightful, and nothing I did was right.

When finals finally came around, I tried to get everything done and do all that I could to prove myself to my professors & advisors--but I couldn't. I couldn't manage meeting with 60 students to go over drafts, studying for my finals, grading those 60 papers, and writing 2 of my own and I just kind of shut down. When all was said and done, I did get the papers graded, wrote one paper that I was actually proud of, but bombed each of the actual exams I took and couldn't spit out anything coherent whatsoever for my other paper. I flew home the day after my last test and slept for four days-getting up only to eat and pet my cat.

As my vacation came to a close, I found myself even more determined to succeed in my second semester. I wanted to prove those elitist assholes wrong, and prove to myself that I could do it.

To Be Continued.....

Silly Silly Androo

In a recent post about Groundhog Day, I mentioned Galena, Illinois. My friend Androo commented (and I replied more fully on my haloscan thing) but I had to post a reply to a part of it. He wrote:

. . .I was amused to find out your father lived in Galena ILL! Galena, also known as PbS (one part lead to one part sulfur) in the Geology world, was named that for its abundance in Galena ILL and is my favorite mineral!

Silly silly Androo-

Galena is the Latin word for lead.

Galena, Illinois and your favorite mineral both are named from the Latin...
Honestly, he should have known :-)

This worries me (Blog Etiquette)

I first learned about this poor 13 year old blogger at Para-Bellum:Immature Adults and InstaRage, and since then I've seen too many other blog entries about it to list them all...

I'm not even really sure why these men decided to pick on this boy. Apparently, he posted a picture of that toy soldier/kidnapped American that the folks at BlogsForBush had tweaked to show how the doll really looked like a doll. Then everybody there got mad at him-saying he stole the image, emailed somebody and somehow got all their traffic. The boy fixed his mistake, but they called him a bastard---pissing off his mother and half of the blogosphere.

a. I don't understand how he managed to get their site's traffic--nor do I care, really. The point made by Para-Bellum is a good one:

Listen, I'm sure Blogs for Bush gets all the traffic its little heart
desires and doesn't need even more. In fact, Matt's site is a pain in the ass to load.
But A LOT of people are using that image, A LOT! Where's the credit
from Matt from whoever he got it from. Plus not a lot of kids get told the finer
points of Copyright Laws, did you know it's basically cheating if you even look
at someone else's homework? Plus on the Internet, everything is basically taken
from someone.

b. Whoa! I've read Tony Pierce's 'How To Blog' and numerous others like it trying to make sure I'm blogging respectfully and in an acceptable manner. When I have a question, I ask friends who blog or post an entry about it-like my recent post about comments.

But I am worried. I want to blog responsibly because I want other bloggers to take me seriously and read my blog. I decided to start this blog because of those other bloggers whose sites I love to read (whose writing I enjoy; whose stories are funny; whose lives inspire me; whose thoughts are helpful..etc.)---in hopes that maybe some other folk would get something from what I have to say...

I wonder, then, if I've screwed up inadvertently and pissed someone off...

Then I remember the Most Important reason why I decided to blog--- Because it's mine and I can do/write/post anything (within reason) that I like. This is my place to express myself, damnit!

So, if I do something wrong--please let me know in a nice way....I'm a newbie with good intentions...

Replying to Comments

1st--- It's awesome to get comments, especially those that compliment the site & encourage me to continue writing. As one who loves to leave comments, for it somehow exciting & fulfilling to let others know the impact of their words-- and because when you really feel what you're reading, you want to share that-- I love receiving comments. I want to know if someone else felt what I write, or found it interesting/boring/inaccurate/insightful, etc. It's great to get the validation...to know that you aren't writing just for yourself....I could go on, but I won't...Every blogger, I assume, must feel the same way...

So, I've just received my first few comments & am incredibly tickled. Thanks guys---Once I figure out how to reply, I will...

I can't figure out how to reply to a specific comment....It seems like I can only have my reply follow the last comment left if there are more than one. Is this what the link to this comment button is used for?

Also, I wonder if there are any blogger manners about replying to comments--Should I do so in the haloscan thingy or make a new post? Is it rude to make a new post and quote a comment? I have so many blogger-etiquette questions that I should make that a separate post...

Sorry--I realize this is not the most interesting post...

Meanwhile, I must get to class....

Greek Life

Here's the proof!

Irrefutable! I definitely attended a fraternity party Saturday night....
It was fun though--these guys weren't horrible like the frat boys at OhioU seemed to me. Apparently, down here there are 2 types of frats: the bad ones like at OU, and others that aren't so stuck up or concerned with petty things.

What I did find amusing was that they had both beer and some concoction called Hunch Punch to drink. This punch tasted like it was just Kool-Aid, but it actually had a ridiculous amount of Everclear in it. At OU, this would be Harry Buffalo or Jungle Juice minus the fruit. Anyway- it was obvious that the hunch punch was for the girls, knowing that they'd probably prefer fruity-ness to cheap beer, and thus the girls were more likely to get drunk as hell. Tricky tricky.

They hired this band, who played some heady music really well- but were set up in this violently bright room so nobody paid attention to them. Anyway--the bassist was a gorgeous boy & I flirted with him for a minute...I wanted to talk to him some more, but we had to leave suddenly... He did mention to me that they would be playing at Tasty World sometime soon, and I think I'm going to go there today and find out when exactly that is....

Strange but True!

I'm actually going to my first real Frat party tonight....I know that's hard to believe--but I swear it's true!!

I'm taking my camera to document the event---and so I can prove it later!
Pictures to follow!

cum tacent, clamant...

Prologos:
A very well-known passage of Cicero's (In Catilinam I. 21) reads:

de te autem, Catilina, cum quiescunt, probant, cum patiuntur, decernunt, cum tacent, clamant, neque hi solum quorum tibi auctoritas est videlicet cara, vita vilissima . . .

To you, however, Catiline,
while they are calm, they approve,
while they endure, they judge,
while they are silent, they are screaming. (!)
And not they alone, whose authority clearly is dear to you,
though their lives unimportant...

I've always been deeply moved by this whole speech, and this passage in particular...While they are silent, they are screaming... For me--this is quite a foreboding statement, a fierce threat created by anger building up just as Cicero's cola do, and about to burst forth at any moment.

When I grow silent in my own anger, I go along as expected in a sort of calmed state and deal with it--that means I am incredibly upset and whatever/whoever is to blame is better off moving to Mexico than dealing with what I've been planning in my silence. (Remember: I am a Scorpio...) To me, Cicero isn't really giving Catiline a choice, rather he is just letting Catiline know exactly how greatly his actions have angered the Senate (-even Roma herself!)--exactly how much danger he is in-exactly how much he deserves his predicament and exactly how unavoidable his fate is.

By 1pm yesterday, my defenses kicked in and a slow calm spread over me. I reached that point. My silence speaks volumes of the depth of my emotion....

------------------------------------------------
Response to a friend...I didn't know was really a friend and who understands more than I realize.

I found in my email a few hours ago a short note that surprised me in an overly-contemplative fashion. This note is not elegant nor dense, not sneaky or flattering, nor imprecise; rather, it is wise and keenly perceptive in its simplicity--Obviously, to me, he wrote in haste, having been repulsed by the same things that he has seen repulse me, and felt compelled to let me know he identifies.

What surprises me is that not only does he see through my efforts to hide my reactions to the people & attitudes around me, but he must also understand what exactly about these people repulses me.

What's more is that he noticed that such efforts are slowly wearing at me -despite my frantic attempts to blend in, and I think what really surprised me was that he's not afraid to tell me that.

Yesterday was probably the single worst & best day I've had since I moved here. Isn't it strange how when things are at their worst in so many ways, other aspects I forgot I still had serve to keep me in line and to give me perspective. I will go into my day and such at another time... But, when I finally got to go home last evening, I felt like breaking things, screaming and being violent...Instead I called an old friend from home and cried.

That's why a couple sentences in my email have had such an effect....I was feeling so incredibly isolated, just wishing I were still in somewhere where finding a good friend to give me a hug is easy...Though I do feel more connected to the rest of this campus and have made friends with normal people at last, these people don't know me. Not really. Those who think they've got me figured out just make me feel worse. The majority of people though, just don't care to stop long enough to think about anything other than themselves. The rest are people I don't think I would want to socialize with, let alone get to know....This is the decay...this is what's disgusting/repulsive/ disillusioning/....

What follows is an except from his email & my response to it. I decided to go ahead and post this because I think I came closer to clear articulation of my thoughts than I am usually able:

You know...so many people are fucking sticks up asses. . . .

I'm glad that no matter how much I get stressed out, you're not a fucking lame ass. It's good to know that not everyone is just a dying corpse here. thanks for being real!!!

I responded:

I'm sure you had no way of knowing how badly I needed to hear that from somebody today, or how much I appreciate it. Thank You.

I think you and I can be confident that at very least, we will under no circumstances reduce ourselves to lame-asses...Though, I am beginning to wonder if there's some sort of airborne contagion in the Dept's air ducts responsible for the rampant epidemic of diaphanous, self-serving insincerity....if that makes any sense at all...

You too!---'Keep it real'

We who are still breathing, sentient beings, and not ashamed of it- seem to be a dying breed. I'm beginning to wonder if that is significant at all
--->Maybe it is simply not possible to connect or engage or succeed at this (or at this place, for that matter) while at the same time maintaining some sense of reality, as well as identity--and maybe even sanity.

Or, maybe it is that I am - and perhaps you are as well, [--and this seems increasingly more likely to me--] co-existing in an entirely different reality than those around me. The more lame-asses with corncobs up their asses and something to prove I encounter, the more probable it seems to me that the defect here is mine: everyone else is wondering what I'm hiding behind my own mask (that to me seems almost painfully transparent) - wondering what is stuck up my ass....or what I'm trying to prove...

And yet, I never feel like anyone cares to know or wonders what it is that I'm trying to say.

please forgive my impassioned ramblings; I've had a seriously shitty day and have been thinking a lot tonight about these 'lame-asses'

------cum tacent, clamant.
(Cicero, In Catilinam 1.21)

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

*****[As I sat writing this, 2 more friends of mine popped up out of nowhere--and helped me to remember that there are people who really do care what I think and what I say....who know me and my quirks better than most and yet, despite distance & time, they still take care of me and love me and understand me--without my ever speaking a word....J.B. & L.P. (you know who you are) I hope you know the difference you've made in my life, how much I've learned from you both---and how comforting it is to know, as each day I feel like Sisyphus, struggling uphill in vain to explain myself , that I never have to explain myself to you....You could probably explain me better than I can...I love you both.]

The State of the Union?

My mind is spinning with too many thoughts about too many things for me to spend my time expounding upon Bush's speech tonight. I am very liberal, very much a democrat, and I'm sure no one really needs to listen to me drone on & on about my personal beliefs about George W. Bush.

You've lucked out. You have been spared.

I will say this: I am impressed by the incredible improvement in our President's public-speaking skills & the strength of his delivery tonight. It is obvious to me that someone has been practicing. And also- the authors of this speech are undeniably well-educated & at the top of their field for a reason. These guys have undoubtedly spent many hours pouring over the works of the Classical Rhetoricians....Specifically, Gorgias of Leontini and Marcus Tullius Cicero come to mind....

A certain Professor Hutchinson seems to agree with me....
[The following excerpt gives some solid info on Gorgias' life, work, and influence. It is taken directly from her course website and I suspect was written by a student. The emphasis is mine.]

[She]quoted an excerpt from the speech in Dionysius’ On Types of Style,
as an example of Gorgias’ ostentatious style and clever use of rhetorical devices. The speech includes many symmetrical clauses, such as: “May I be able to say what I want, and may I want to say what I should…”
- a clever paradox. . . .

When delivered by a good orator, these speeches were quite intoxicating. To catch all the symmetries, paradoxes and inversions however, was intellectually taxing.
The words were often so enticing that most listeners forgot to notice that the utterances themselves did not make much sense. The speeches were designed to rouse
and generate waves of euphoria. Such emotional appeals were persuasive but not
in any way illuminating- somewhat similar to the speeches of “Dubya” Bush…

Gorgias was a “trailblazer and innovator” in the use of
effective language. Many of his techniques are still used by contemporary
writers, such as balanced clauses and assonants in poetry. . . .
However, many devices eventually became obsolete, as they were excessive or too ‘flowery’.

Gorgias was so confident in his persuasive powers
that he took up most unlikely cases and argued against widely
accepted Greek conventions. For example,he composed an elaborate speech
in praise of salt- a worthless mineral of great abundance in the Aegean.

Even his philosophical proof that nothing exists was ostensibly orchestrated to show the superiority of his rhetoric. Gorgias’ most famous promotion of his
expertise occurs in The Encomium of Helen, where he attempts to praise Helen
of Troy- a legendary figure in Homer’s Odyssey who allegedly instigates a
10-year war by committing adultery and fleeing with her lover Paris of Troy.

As for President Bush's speech and its relationship to the masterful art of my beloved Tullie's work-- I don't have the energy left to get into this. My feelings for & awe of Cicero are too strong for me to be brief....

I never in my life thought I was capable of praising a GWB public performance--and mean it.

Go read this:

BUSH EMBRACES DUAL ROLE AS NATIONAL AND POLITICAL LEADER

Groundhog Day Resolutions

Okay! Alright! I know---if you are going to be a blogger, blog every day! A week ago I lapsed back into my lazy-stoner self and haven't blogged since then. I suck.

I hope people read my blog and want more people to do so....

First, let me explain about Groundhogs Day and its significance to my family.

Some cold February in Galena, Illinois about 35 years ago, my father had an idea.

At this point, my father was still drinking and, I believe, recently married-though my older sister was not yet in the picture. Dad was never big on Christmas celebrations and after the holidays had passed, he thought there needed to be a big party. It was still winter and dreary and the next causes for celebration wouldn't come for too long. I don't know if he thought about having a Valentine's Day bash, but if you knew my father you'd know that Vday isn't my dad's favorite holiday...

Eureka!!!!!-- He would hold a Groundhogs Day party!

Everyone is invited and welcome--provided that each guest (or group of guests) bring some food item for the Groundhog Stew. As people arrive for the party, their ingredients would be added to the big pot of beef broth and by the time everyone is pleasantly drunk and enjoying themselves, the stew would be ready for consumption.

This was the premise for the original GD bash and over the years, certain rules regarding the stew have been made. One must first note that my father's name is Stew and so the idea of Groundhog Stew is a play on that-- [I'm not sure if any year's stew actually included groundhog, though I think there had to have been one year when somebody thought it would be great to bring roadkill, and no groundhog was included in the past 15 years at least.] Today, a list of these guidelines for creating Groundhog Stew is framed and hung up in our kitchen. I can't remember them all, but I do remember that keilbasa (sp?) is an essential ingredient and under no circumstances shall turnips or rutabagas be added. And there is an unspoken rule that no one may refer to this concoction as 'Groundhog Stew' in the presence of my father, as he is kinda sensitive about that for some reason...

Thus, our greatest family tradition was born...

So, in my family, Groundhogs Day is a HUGE deal; we don't even celebrate Christmas or our birthdays with as much spirit or enthusiasm. Groundhogs Day is the most sacred holiday of them all for us....We have a 2ft tall ceramic sculpture of a groundhog on its hind legs proudly displayed in our living room year-round.

This year, my father has postponed the annual bash on account of his poor health... he hopes to celebrate properly once the groundhog's prediction has come to pass. Have no fear, though, as my sister is holding her first annual Groundhogs Day party at her home in St. Louis....

If I had a larger apartment, or more than 5 friends, I would have one of my own...So, in lieu of a party, I've decided to make some Groundhogs Day Resolutions and share them with my loyal readers...

1. Post a new blog entry every other day--at very least!

2. Quit trying to keep this an anonymous blog. I don't write much about other people, and certainly not much for anyone I know to be offended. If my students or professors find this and learn things they shouldn't--So Be It! I shall quit worrying about it...

3. Go to class, every day, unless I am dying or incarcerated. My absenteeism is a big reason for my shitty grades last semester...This is going to be a tough one--but I can do it!

4. Budget--for real. I came thiiiiiiiis close to being evicted this month. (well, okay, I probably wouldn't really have been evicted, but still--I got the notice about it...) Never again.

5. Stop making guys fall in love with me for sport. This is a topic I plan to write a separate post about...I just keep doing it, and all that does is make a mess for me. No more playing with boys' minds!!

Okay, that's enough for now...

The Infinite Wisdom of Sheryl Crow

I remember distinctly the day I bought my very first Sheryl Crow album, Tuesday Night Music Club. At age 11, it was one of the first CD's I ever purchased and is still one of my favorites. 'If It Makes You Happy' was my personal anthem in 9th grade. When I broke up with my first 'serious' boyfriend in 10th grade, Sheryl Crow was there with The Globe Sessions to help me forget 'my favorite mistake.'

The true test of an artist/album, I think, is still loving a CD & never getting really sick of it --finding solace in the music and identifying with the lyrics so personally-- as much now (or years later) as you did when you first bought it-->but for different reasons. Only a few artists/albums I love are like that for me, like Jeff Buckley's Grace (and everything else he's ever recorded), Liz Phair's Exile In Guyville, Both of Fiona Apple's CDs, Sublime's 40 Oz. To Freedom, and of course- the music of Sheryl Crow.

I recently bought The Very Best of Sheryl Crow and have been embracing my love of her. Sheryl Crow's music has always spoken to me, at age 11 or 15 or 19 or 22, and I still love her just as much as I did when I unwrapped that first CD long ago. Now I've found new meaning in the same songs I've been listening to for years...

So--I've decided to list some of my favorite lines from Sheryl Crow songs.....In no particular order...

Well, OK, I still get stoned. I'm not the kind of girl you take home....

There ain't nothing like regret to let you know that you're alive.

Everything's different, but everything's fine.
This is the good stuff--
Yesterday is only what you leave behind.
It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got.

If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?

...You can try me on my cell phone, you can page me all night long, but you won't catch this free bird . . . I'll allready be long gone...

If you could only see what love has made of me, then I'd no longer be, in your mind, the difficult kind---cuz' babe I've changed.