Elizabeth Scripturient (the delinquent, ecumenical (hermionesviolin) wrote,
Elizabeth Scripturient (the delinquent, ecumenical

anecdotal evidence

M.R came in to the library on Monday. My coworkers think he’s a pain and stuff, but i don’t really mind him. However, he came back with the New York Times Book Review i’d gotten for him and asked if there was a public copy machine and i started to point to the one on our floor and he added: that had 11x17 paper. “The public copy machines don’t,” he said. I said that if the copy machines didn’t have that size paper there wasn’t anything i could do about it. “Well then this” gesturing at the article he wanted to copy “can’t help me” and he left in a grump. “Fuck you, asshole,” i thought, because his tone made me just want to shoot him. (And i know the copiers have more than just 8½ x 11 size paper, so surely you could make two copies to get the entire page or something.)

There was this lovely Asian woman on Monday, too. She had what looked like silver ball earrings, in her chest. Two on either side of the breastbone, a little below the collarbone. Terry made a pained face after she walked by and i said (since he has a number of tattoos) that it’s probably not much more painful than getting a tattoo. This got us into a discussion about my getting a tattoo (apparently they are much cheaper in Europe than here). I have no desire to get a tattoo, at all. “Why not? You’d look good with a tattoo?” He was less than helpful when then asked where and of what i should get a tattoo. Sigh, boys. They’re cute, though. They say things like, “Aren’t those heavy?” re: boobs, in this sort of awed voice. (And those of you who know me in the physical world know i’m not large breasted at all.)
Last summer Cara went to the Michigan Womyn’s Festival – I was invited to go along, but didn’t think it my kind of thing – she came back singing the praises of breasts. The sheer difference of them: the nipples that simply shaded in, the ones like raspberries perched on top, the fiercely pointy ones, on all the long and flat and globelike bosoms. Watching thousands of women walk round naked in the woods, what had struck her was not the naturalness of breasts in the human body shape, but the opposite; how, after the logical lines of hops and ribcages and limbs, breasts seemed completely gratuitous.
-from Hood by Emma Donoghue
“The world it is small.” I think this frequently, largely because of (A) the Internet, particularly LiveJournal; (B) the fact that i attend a college which graduates approximately 600 people each year; (C) i continue to return to my black hole of a suburb whose public high school graduates approximately 200 people each year. At work on Monday i saw Catherine DeGeorge who asked me how Smith was. I barely even remembered her name as i’m bad with names and she didn’t graduate my year. Then today walking up Berwick i chatted with a girl who just got out of college and used to see me and my dad walking up to the high school all the time. I could continue listing examples, but really no one cares.

I talked to Ms. Fisher for a while. Is so frustrating to hear about administration and kids and parents who all don’t care or who treat people like crap or who are too wrapped up in doing things their way to do things in a way that works better. Doesn’t anyone care anymore? I’m growing increasingly cynical about a high school education providing much of any value, but getting the diploma is important, and a college degree is increasingly necessary (though i don’t necessarily think either of those facts are good things) so wouldn’t parents at least be concerned that their children do kinda well. And if you’re a teacher, or worse a department head/administrator, aren’t you doing this because you care about students?

I’m really tempted to go into teaching high school. But i need to be able to provide a legitimate answer to the “Why the [expletive deleted] are we learning (about) this?” and, see aforementioned cynicism, i don’t think i can answer that question. Kids retain very little of what they learn in high school, and “basic literacy (in the broadest sense of the term) and a shared foundation of knowledge” doesn’t go far enough. I keep questioning why we study the arts (including literature). Everything else i know it’s important to understand how things work. What does art/literature teach us? About life? Because if we create/ingest art to learn about life, i think that shifts the whole paradigm of how that stuff gets taught (as well as critiqued). I am an English major because it’s a major i can fulfill.

At work on Monday i snagged a 1969 book Teaching as a Subversive Activity (the cover continues: A no-holds barred assault on outdated teaching methods—with dramatic and practical proposals on how education can be made relevant to today’s world) on its way to the “circular file.” This should be interesting, if nothing else.

Just as some people deal with the attempted rape scene in “Seeing Red” by mocking it relentlessly (“I will maek you feel it!!!1”) i have taken to mocking “accepting Jesus into your heart.” Though i’m doing the same thing i did with “deep time,” so maybe i’m just a bad person who mocks things she doesn’t like ;)

GK’s response to most every criticism at Tuesday night’s Council meeting was to say that all the committee meetings were open meetings and people could come and raise their concerns there. My mother thought, “And people would know when these meetings are, how?” Have we mentioned the lack of communication in my church? I said that when you accept Jesus into your heart you acquire telepathy. My mom says she may go to all the meetings for the next while, just to piss him off. Asking things like, “Now, where exactly is the money for this coming from? Can I see a full financial report?” I’m really tempted to go to meetings, though i tend to be really no good at being bitchy in person.

Laura from Russian class is in London until July 2. We miss each other by 3 days; bollocks. She knows this post-grad guy in Oxford, so she would have had double reason to visit, too. She’s gonna talk to him and see if maybe we can hang out, though. I really need to get on the ball with this trip, figuring out specifics and talking to people i might hang out with over there.

People with an interest in socializing with me before i leave the country: see previous entry. NYC peoples who saw it when it was first posted: it’s been edited, so go back.

My hair has been more cooperative now that i’ve been getting out more instead of just sitting around at home. I still want a haircut (definitely before i leave for England) but i feel less desperate now. Looking at myself in the mirror, though, i’m weary of this pageboy cut. What do i want, though? I don’t think i have the face for a pixie cut of any sort. A bob perhaps?

Wow it got late. Hopefully i’ll be in a better mood after some sleep. There are a number of other things bothering me, but there’s really no reason for me to write all this stuff out. Negative energy really just isn’t worth it. I think i need to start on my Oxford reading. Getting things done tends to make me feel better (and regardless of how i feel, it’s necessary).

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