- The girl two machines in front of me at the gym today had a ridiculously nice ass. Like the Platonic ideal of what a white girl's ass should be. To quote Ron Burdgandy, I wasn't even mad, just impressed. I was tempted to tap her on the shoulder and ask what her strength routine is but I decided in time that that was kiiiind of creepy so I abstained.
- Big shout-out to Dmitri for drunkenly hassling me about learning and using the multi-touch shortcuts on my new computer. Because man, they are amazing. It's not quite as "how did I live without this?" as when I first switched to a Mac and learned about keyboard shortcuts, but it's definitely increased the ease with which I navigate documents, especially in terms of web surfing and reading long articles. It's a good reminder to me not to be a secret Luddite who never upgrades her software because learning about all the "improvements" is too much of a pain. Turns out calling them "improvements" is not merely a scam to make you reboot - software upgrades are useful! (See also: my giving numerous students higher grades on presentations because I didn't realize that the reason their powerpoints looked so much better than mine was because they were using a version that didn't predate the Bush administration.)
Also - considering how much money I didn't have I paid for this thing, it only makes sense to get as much out of it as possible.
- Holy crap my back is sore. (Doo-dah, doo-dah...)
- After a successful (almost too much so) day at the mall with Marshelle and Jessie, I realize the reason I feel like all my clothes are boring and plain is not in fact because it's hard to find any other kind these days, but merely because I almost never go shopping anymore (and when I do, for the past year or so it's pretty much exclusively been at Target).
- I've been starting to think that the question of whether or not a given dude has any potential traction as someone who'd fit well with me (and vice versa, of course) is not in fact as difficult to shed light on as I've been feeling it is for the past year or so - but simply a matter of asking myself if I could imagine him working at a Tarsa family Christmas. Not necessarily instantly fitting in like one born to the role (I'm looking at you, Tom Harper) - just that the idea of them there doesn't make me wince in discomfort. I feel like much wasted time in my romantic history could have been avoided if I had realized this earlier on. But then - such is youth.
- Writing that last point started off being about dudes but definitely ended up being about my family. And has made me realize that I really miss them. I think a lot of my distance from them over the past year or so is more a defense mechanism than anything else. I can't see any of them more than a few times a year at this stage in my life. There's nothing I can do about that. I was brought up to value opportunity over geographical fidelity, and my life to date reflects that. But damn - sometimes I wish that was not among the family values (especially the ones I got an extra-large dose of as the oldest) and we'd all settled down within an easy drive of home. (Which would still be in New Hampshire in this fantasy, btw.)
- This weekend has completely fucked my sleep cycle and is threatening to set off my anxiety issues about falling asleep. Joy. Hopefully I can drag myself out of bed early enough tomorrow to start repairing the damage.
- Some really great, productive reading and thinking for my prelims question this weekend - somehow, between the not sleeping and the staying out too late and the shopping excursions. Looking at a few theoretical approaches to the word vs image question in regards to meaning-making and then finishing with what amounted to a practical-minded and applied consideration of the same issue by Edward Tufte (whose Beautiful Evidence I am 100% assigning next time I teach 201) was incredibly useful. It highlighted the benefits and shortcomings of both theoretical and practical approaches to the question (and all questions, I guess) - both from a scholarly standpoint and a pedagogical one.
And less convolutedly - if you're looking for a good starting point for thinking about how to begin bringing multimodal work into your teaching (or your own writing), this is a really great book to check out. It's by no means perfect - its focus on quantitative content doesn't always result in a clean map onto Humanities writing, and he's kind of a jackass at many points. But by jettisoning all the anxiety about the word-vs-image hierarchy and simply asking "how can we use the visual to present evidence in as effective and beautiful a way as possible?", he's able to come up with some truly incredible ideas and illustrations of them.
Showing posts with label Tarsa life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tarsa life. Show all posts
Monday, June 13, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Home Improvements
So I just had one of those moments where I realized that I've unconsciously crafted a life for myself that in many little quirky ways (and some less little and less quirky ways) adheres to the values and habits of my own family - specifically in this case my mother. (This is a totally random opener, I'm aware.) Moments like this are almost always positive for me - they make me feel good about the adult I've become, about how my background has stayed a part of me through it all (even if I sometimes feel like there's nothing left to me but work, my love for my cats and a growing case of OCD about neatness).
What was it you ask that triggered this feeling? Scissors. Or more specifically, the realization that I own three pairs (four if you count the kitchen shears) - and thus can always, always find a pair when I need them. This felt surprisingly good - like realizing you've unconsciously managed to live up to some small but significant parental expectation. Which I guess is kind of what it is. Like Grampa and his perennial insistence on always having a flashlight in the car (something that's become a staple family in-joke at this point), always putting the scissors back in their place so they are they for the next person is something I remember being a thing growing up. Except the reason I likely remember it is because no one ever did it. Like, ever. So it was always hell finding some when you needed to wrap a gift, clip an article, cut a tag. (This is why I have the incurable habit of ripping my tags.) So as a result our house eventually just had scissors more or less everywhere. Junk drawer? Ancient slightly rusty black-handled scissors that looked like they'd been around since prohibition. Top drawer of the sewing machine? Slick uber-sharp heavy-duty mauve-handled shears that Mom would kill you if you didn't put back. Drawer of the huge heavy metal desk in the basement? More old-school metal ones. My top right desk drawer? Normal paper-cutting scissors. Kitten's room? Some safety scissors. Sewing basket? Embroidery shears.
...I'm digressing. And possibly exaggerating somewhat. But the point is: today I needed scissors twice in quick succession, and was able to quickly locate a pair in two separate locations, right where they belonged - and then I instinctively put them back. And it made me feel good about the life I'm building, a reassurance that there's always going to be more making me up than the last three years, and that graduate school is temporary but being a Tarsa is forever.
And thank God for that.
What was it you ask that triggered this feeling? Scissors. Or more specifically, the realization that I own three pairs (four if you count the kitchen shears) - and thus can always, always find a pair when I need them. This felt surprisingly good - like realizing you've unconsciously managed to live up to some small but significant parental expectation. Which I guess is kind of what it is. Like Grampa and his perennial insistence on always having a flashlight in the car (something that's become a staple family in-joke at this point), always putting the scissors back in their place so they are they for the next person is something I remember being a thing growing up. Except the reason I likely remember it is because no one ever did it. Like, ever. So it was always hell finding some when you needed to wrap a gift, clip an article, cut a tag. (This is why I have the incurable habit of ripping my tags.) So as a result our house eventually just had scissors more or less everywhere. Junk drawer? Ancient slightly rusty black-handled scissors that looked like they'd been around since prohibition. Top drawer of the sewing machine? Slick uber-sharp heavy-duty mauve-handled shears that Mom would kill you if you didn't put back. Drawer of the huge heavy metal desk in the basement? More old-school metal ones. My top right desk drawer? Normal paper-cutting scissors. Kitten's room? Some safety scissors. Sewing basket? Embroidery shears.
...I'm digressing. And possibly exaggerating somewhat. But the point is: today I needed scissors twice in quick succession, and was able to quickly locate a pair in two separate locations, right where they belonged - and then I instinctively put them back. And it made me feel good about the life I'm building, a reassurance that there's always going to be more making me up than the last three years, and that graduate school is temporary but being a Tarsa is forever.
And thank God for that.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Holy Relatives, Batman
The following is the text of an email I received from my grandfather today:
"Fifty Years of Math 1959 - 2009 (in the USA )
Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl
took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my
pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3
pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her
discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters , but she
hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to
her, she stood there and cried. Why do I tell you this? Because of the
evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:
1. Teaching Math In 1950s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5
of the price. What is his profit ?
2. Teaching Math In 1960s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5
of the price, or $80. What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
$80. Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80
and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990s
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and
inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the
preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20.
What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class
participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels
feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if
you feel like crying, it's ok. )
6. Teaching Math In 2009
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la
producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?"
...what the hell am I supposed to do about this? Like, not necessarily in an "I feel like I have to take action!" sense. Because frankly, one incredibly depressing conversation with him about his views on the Arizona law in which he repeatedly insisted his views were not at all racist and I was ultimately reduced to responding solely through sarcasm which he completely and utterly missed and led my mother to chastise me severely later on was enough. It's just so incredibly weird to me because in all other respects he's an incredibly progressive guy. He barely blinked an eye when my brother came out (and like the *entire family* except me knew years before he was told), he's got an affectionate-head-shaking attitude towards my father's extreme religious commitment, and he was incredibly supportive of my grandmother starting her own business in the 60s and of women's rights in general. But refer to someone as African-American in front of him and you'll get a 5-minute speech on how annoying that term because "they" only invented it so they could grab up all your tax dollars. Like...how does that happen? Is being in the workforce for 50 years so soul-crushing that it inevitably leads to this kind of blatantly economics-motivated myopia? Are racist views on immigration a little-known side effect of lupus? Beats me, but it's made for some hella awkward moments at family gatherings recently. (And also given rise to an inside joke between me and my siblings that must sound so off-color if you don't realize it's making fun of my grandfather and not minority groups.)
Anyhow. I should definitely be packing or working on my syllabus right now instead of writing this, but whatever. I failed so completely at most of my summer objectives that I feel like I've reallllly got to come through with my resolution to blog/journal more. I wrote 1300 words on a Stickie last night between 1 and 2am alone. Go me!
"Fifty Years of Math 1959 - 2009 (in the USA )
Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl
took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my
pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3
pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her
discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters , but she
hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to
her, she stood there and cried. Why do I tell you this? Because of the
evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:
1. Teaching Math In 1950s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5
of the price. What is his profit ?
2. Teaching Math In 1960s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5
of the price, or $80. What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
$80. Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80
and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990s
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and
inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the
preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20.
What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class
participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels
feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if
you feel like crying, it's ok. )
6. Teaching Math In 2009
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la
producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?"
...what the hell am I supposed to do about this? Like, not necessarily in an "I feel like I have to take action!" sense. Because frankly, one incredibly depressing conversation with him about his views on the Arizona law in which he repeatedly insisted his views were not at all racist and I was ultimately reduced to responding solely through sarcasm which he completely and utterly missed and led my mother to chastise me severely later on was enough. It's just so incredibly weird to me because in all other respects he's an incredibly progressive guy. He barely blinked an eye when my brother came out (and like the *entire family* except me knew years before he was told), he's got an affectionate-head-shaking attitude towards my father's extreme religious commitment, and he was incredibly supportive of my grandmother starting her own business in the 60s and of women's rights in general. But refer to someone as African-American in front of him and you'll get a 5-minute speech on how annoying that term because "they" only invented it so they could grab up all your tax dollars. Like...how does that happen? Is being in the workforce for 50 years so soul-crushing that it inevitably leads to this kind of blatantly economics-motivated myopia? Are racist views on immigration a little-known side effect of lupus? Beats me, but it's made for some hella awkward moments at family gatherings recently. (And also given rise to an inside joke between me and my siblings that must sound so off-color if you don't realize it's making fun of my grandfather and not minority groups.)
Anyhow. I should definitely be packing or working on my syllabus right now instead of writing this, but whatever. I failed so completely at most of my summer objectives that I feel like I've reallllly got to come through with my resolution to blog/journal more. I wrote 1300 words on a Stickie last night between 1 and 2am alone. Go me!
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