An Article

St. Paul, MN—Arguing that tutors should return to the fundamentals taught in the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Necronomicon in order to develop the skills they need to be driven to the very edge of sanity, Center for Academic Excellence Writing Tutor Peter Gawtry continued to advance his pro-madness agenda at the bi-yearly All-Center meeting Monday.

"Fools!" said Gawtry, his clenched fist striking the table before him. "We must prepare ourselves for a world whose terrors are etched upon ancient clay tablets recounting the fever-dreams of the other gods—not fill our heads with such trivia as Math and Writing. Our tutees need to know about those who lie beneath the earth, waiting until the stars align so they can return to their rightful place as our masters and wage war against the Elder Things and the shoggoths!"

The controversial CAE tutor reportedly interrupted a heated discussion about next semester’s schedule in order to bring his motion to the table. With the aid of a flip chart, Gawtry laid out his six-point plan for increased madness, which included field trips to the medieval metaphysics department at the University of Minnesota, instruction in the incantations of Yog-Sothoth, and a walkathon sponsored by local businesses to raise money for the freshman theater program.

"Our center is an orderly, sanitary place where tutors dwell in blissful ignorance of the chaos that awaits," Gawtry said. "Should our facilities be repaired? No, they must be razed to the ground and rebuilt in the image of the Cyclopean dwellings of the Elder Gods, the very geometry of which will drive them to be possessed by visions of the realms beyond."

Gawtry has served as president of the unofficial Tutor Union since 2010, when he defeated 89-year-old incumbent Matty Spillum by promising to enforce punctuality rules and refer repeat disciplinary cases to the three-lobed burning eye. He has run unopposed ever since.

"Peter sure likes to bang on that madness drum," fellow tutor Jamie McKelvey said. "I'm not totally sold on his plan to let gibbering, half-formed creatures dripping with ichor feed off the flesh and fear of our tutees. But he is always on time to help set up for our potlucks, and his baked goods are among the most popular."

"I must admit, he's very convincing, and not a little bit creepy" veteran tutor Elizabeth Todd added.

Gawtry's previous failed proposals include requiring the college band to perform the tuneless flute songs of the blind idiot god Azathoth and offering art student’s instruction in the carving of morbid and obscene fetishes from otherworldly media.

Several administrators attending the meeting were not impressed by Gawtry's outburst.

"Last month, he wanted us to change the center's motto from 'Fostering Young Writers' to 'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn,'" Center Director Jenni Runte said. "I asked if it was Latin, and he said that it was the eldritch tongue of Shub- Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young. I don't know any eldritch tongues, but I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"We already changed the name of the center from “The Center for Academic Excellence” to “The Nyarlathotep Tutoring and Worship Center”," Runte added, "What more does he want?"

Immediately before the vote on his motion, which was defeated thirty eight to one, Gawtry gave his final remarks, arguing that the tutors and tutees are our future and that it's the director's obligation to make sure they are fully versed in the unspeakable horrors still to come.

All of Gawtry's remaining proposals were tabled so the directors could debate repairing the hole in the tutoring-room wall, as five tutors have disappeared into the adjacent skull-filled catacombs since the opening was discovered last week.

A Positive element of Stress?

So, I'm so stressed at the moment that apparently I can't sleep; however, the upside to that is that when you wake up at 2:30am with no hope of getting back to sleep, you get to see the sun come up.

I find it very reassuring when the sun comes up, it kinda restores my faith in nature, 24 hours at a time.

Go me!

Sleep will come, eventually.

I may claim to be a wise man

but that surely means that I don't know.

I don't know anymore.

It's close to being over. But, it's not, and that sucks.

Another chapter draws to a close...

Well, it's almost here...the end of another semester, a time to reflect on time spent, money spent, and energy expended...and of course I have a few things to say about it.

First: I find the lack of continuity in the quality of my university instruction to be frustrating at best and absolutely tragic at worst. I understand that some of my instructors are literal geniuses in their chosen fields, but I find that unfortunately that does not automatically translate into these instructors being able to teach. It is one thing to know the material inside out, and another to be able to get a class of 20 people engaged in it. It pains me to witness first-hand that the money I am spending on my education is, in some cases, being thrown away due to substandard instruction. Gone are the days of every class having something tangible in it that makes it exciting or mentally stimulating, and the days of trying to decipher genius-level babble that emanates from certain instructors mouths have arrived. I find it troubling that university professors are not observed by administration or their peers, and that their only review of their progress comes from student surveys that are filled out at the end of the semester and are not an at all accurate depiction of the professor's teaching ability for a number of reasons.
I expected upon entering university that I would be required to do a lot of self-teaching in the sense that I should be reading and researching material on my own time and outside the purview of the class syllabus. However, I did not expect that in select classes I would be paying the government for me to teach myself fully...I am not a teacher or any sort, and it is not my job to initiate and lead class discussion, or to engage other students to the texts that we are assigned, or to basically teach the class in order to fully attain a level of my own understanding.
Oh well, I realize that not every class with be like this, and that I have met, and will continue to meet, wonderful instructors who will challenge me and teach me in a way that allows me to leave the class with a much more enriched idea of the subject that when I started, but that isn't a reality quite yet.
Anyway, that's it for now

Still Frustrated in St. Paul

Age

I looked down at my hands tonight and saw not youth, but papery, scaly mitts, scarred by time, sunlight, manual labor, and cold. I'm 34, but to look at the backs of my hands you'd think I was much older. It's interesting that I've hit a point in my life at which the signs of almost constant stress, bad habits, and environmental trauma are beginning to manifest themselves in my physical appearance. My hair has decided that rather than remain in place on my head that it would prefer to leave the northern climes and reside on my back. That's not cool. I don't want to be nappy back-hair bald guy, but perhaps that's my lot in life. It seems that every morning expedition to leave the womb-like warmth and security of my bed is getting to be much more difficult than it used to be. Oh, and something new always aches every morning; this morning for instance it was my right ankle, not sure why? all I did yesterday was walk around like a normal human being.

Oh well, another day, another creaking joint, and possibly a stomach ulcer that is enjoying remaining at the limits of my pain tolerance...

Until the next one...

Getting Older in St. Paul

A Limerick for Paddy

There once was a woman from India,
who bored and confused students of literature,
Until one night, with all of their might,
they revolted and said "we're not in to ya".

Extended Similies are like really long similies

Sometimes I wonder if Lit analysis with a class full of English majors is like watching paint dry. It seems to me that there are always a few people in any given class that feel that it is their duty to bore the rest of us fucking senseless with their inane attempts at wit. In truth, all it ends up accomplishing is making them look like a fucktard. Newsflash: sometimes a poem about a red wheelbarrow is just a poem about a red wheelbarrow, not some convoluted attempt at philosophical contemplation about a fucking motive society, or the end of days...

I get tired of people who like to hear themselves talk; write a fucking blog, at least we can choose to ignore it then. In class it's a different story, I can't concentrate on zoning out when your scratchy high-pitched adolescent voice scythes it's way into my inner ear, and imprints itself onto my brain in a vain attempt to somehow gain my approval of the drivel emanating from your face hole. Give it a fucking rest, and sit back and listen; you might learn something from someone who has something to say that's of merit. That is possibly a concept that may be alien to you, but people grow up eventually.

Anyway, now that I feel terrible for sinking to the level of outright contempt for another human, I think I'll sign off.....

Until next time, which if you're keeping track will be a few months....

Frustrated in St. Paul

The List

To Whom it may concern,

I write to you from a position of weakness. I fnd myself mired in a sense of stagnation. Every time I look at the mountain it seems to be just as high as the last time I looked at it, yet I've worked to lessen that gap, and nothing happens. I have a list, and this list has on it some words. These words arrange themselves into a meaningful sentence that explains exactly how much pain, both mental and physical, is left before the walking of the clown shoes. The afore mentioned list, no matter how many times I am able to "strikethrough" elements within it, never seems to get any shorter. Is it me? Is there a medical reason for it? Or is it that I have a fucking boatload of work, and I'm just dragging my ass through it at subsonic speeds? Do I even care? Does any of it even exist? Shit balls.

So anyway, I've just noticed a paradox. By posting to this poor excuse of a blog, I've, in fact, taken away time from the completion of the list. It's like a snake eating his own tail, it tastes good until you get to the head.

Fuck my life.

Night.

A new path...

The time draws near, and change is on the horizon. I'm leaving my yesterdays behind, and embarking on a new journey. A step into the unknown, the unfathomable; riddled with innate fear, and just a touch of apprehension. Yet, it is my path; one that I must tread with confidence while never taking my focus away from the goal. Wish me luck.

Finally got some recognition....

Boo Yah!!! Um, let me re-phrase that....

Yay!

I got some recognition; in the form of Outstanding Student for the 2010-2011 Academic year at Saint Paul College. Not sure what it actually means, but I get a free lunch.

I actually really appreciate it.

Now, only about a month of pain left; oh, but then there's several years of more pain....