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....

Yesterday I wanted it to be tomorrow, and today I wanted my money back.

I would really like to believe that I am creative enough to maintain a blog that anyone would take out a moment of their day to read, but I am not about to delude myself.

If a level of continuing creativity and quality in my blog were necessary to save the planet from a hostile alien takeover, then we'd be fucked.

Is it even possible for there to be a point to the rambles, the shameless attempts at humor, or the accurate description of self-banality?

No; that would be the answer.

Greetings,

Me.

T9 Speak

 In selecting a random thought, plucked idly from the recesses of my mind, I happened across a delectable nugget of little profundity but of entertaining value. It concerns language, a passion of mine, and of one of the people I admire most in this world. Someone passed comment of text speak and t9 language being annoying and not part of the english language and should somehow be outlawed, and this is where I dug in and sunk my teeth into this poor soul. To me it seems that these language snobs fail to remember their history. The english language is constantly evolving, it is a society driven beast. It absorbs the emotions and utterings of it's speakers and changes everyday. It is not rigid and does not follow the structure of other more static languages such as french. Therefore text speak, while admittedly being slightly annoying, is just as much a part of the language as the words written by Shelley and Shakespeare....

Communication and Relationships

It seems to me that the most important thing in our lives is not how many degrees we got in college, or how good our job is, or how much money we have, or what stupid sports car we drive. None of this means a goddamn thing in the grand scheme of things. What really matters is happiness. It's a fucking cliche but if you're truly happy then you could live in a cardboard box out back of a turkish prison and be totally content. And I think that the key to happiness is the reduction of stress. This could mean that you find something you love doing and you do it obsessively, but that doesn't leave much time for relationships. Relationships are what makes you happy. A good relationship with someone, be it a parent, a spouse, a family member, or a friend, is the key to true happiness. We all have flaws and faults that make us all imperfect and therefore incapable of being happy on our own. It is a rare type of person that can function effectively this way and I think they don't truly exist. So, if we can't live and be happy on our own then we need to find relationships that enrich our lives, fill our emotional gaps, and give as much as they take. The key to fully exploiting this relationship once you find it is communication. I can't be happy if something is weighing on my mind and I have no outlet for it. It helps so much for it to be brought out into the open, without fear of bias or judgement. In a good relationship you can feel safe in the knowledge that this will be the case. Now, there are also bad relationships, ones in which we seem to be giving all the time and not getting anything in return. These must be erased from your life. Sometimes this is hard because the relationship in question could be complicated by blood ties, or by legal ties, but nevertheless if you don't see them changing for the better then they are to be eradicated in the easiest way possible. That of course can take a level of courage you may not posess, but thats where the support you get from a good relationship can work in your favor. Essentially if you communicate effectively to the people in your life you'll find that the problems you face in your everyday life become less and less daunting, because with good relationships there is more than one passenger on the ship of you.