Jeremy decided that this time, he was going to spend some time crafting a response, instead of trying to out-talk me cold when I’ve had all kinds of time to think, formulate a hypothesis, and then write it down.
It’s very good. I’m not sure that I agree, but I’m going to read it again. Link on the left side of the page.
A: [Rolling and shaking in laughter at one of the sentences.]
J: “This is what happens when I take time to think!”
A: [Laughs so hard she almost bounces the laptop onto the floor.]
Random Person: So, how do you like going to school online?
Angela: Eh. I like the convenience, but I wouldn’t do it again. There is a lack of accountability that I find troublesome.
RP: Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to make myself do the work.
A: Hm? No! I don’t have any problem doing the work, there are deadlines and grades. The instructors are not accountable to me, and that is a problem.
This is invariably followed by a silence, the nature of which I have not yet deciphered.
Friday, 08/21/2009 - Written by Angela at 2:03 pm - No Comments - Musings, Our Little World - Permalink
Remember that list of wants I wrote a couple of weeks ago?
This just totally amazes me. I can’t decide if it’s God’s grace, just way I’m made, or God’s grace in making me this way. But, just two weeks later, the following “I wants” have magically materialized!
. . . an oven that I can actually use to make my favorite cookies
. . . to baby-proof our finances
. . . to spend one year going to school full time and just get it over with
. . . a chocolate chip cookie
That’s four out of ten! (One of the wants was installing the thermostat myself, which I didn’t do, and is therefore out of reach.)
It’s seriously like magic. I write down the things I want to do, and they happen. My senior year of high school (before it was a big thing), I made a list of things I want to do before I die. Several years later, in the middle of the day, I suddenly realized that “play a harp solo in public” had happened like six months before. I wasn’t trying to reach the goal. It just happened. Yeah, “just happened”, as in practicing 6-10 hours a day for five weeks “just happens”. . . but my point is that I wasn’t doing it to reach a goal — I didn’t even remember that I had ever conceived of it as a goal. And then suddenly, BOOM, goal completed. Check. Next!
Seriously, it’s magic. Of a rather delightful variety.
Friday, 07/31/2009 - Written by Angela at 8:34 pm - 3 Comments - Musings, Our Little World - Permalink
I want to fix my >100-year-old piano so that all the keys work and the action is usable
I want an oven that I can actually use to make my favorite cookies
I want to install the oven thermostat I just ordered, all by myself, without instructions
I want a 9X9 porch with a knee wall to replace the alumininimum trailer stairs on the front of the house
I want my Anatomy instructor to get back to me and admit he was wrong giving me an A- when I earned an A
I want to baby-proof our finances
I want solar panels on my roof
I want an electric car
I want the dream bedroom set
I want to spend one year going to school full time and just get it over with
I want a chocolate chip cookie
And I will do without most of those for a very long time, and yet I will be okay. Because I don’t want for
A back door, a side door, a front door, and a bulkhead
Many lilacs in my yard
Food in my fridge
A reliable car in my garage
A comfy bed
A closet
A steady job
And Oreos
Even with Tuesdays off while I was taking two classes for the May/June term, it was still so much work for eight whole weeks that I’m having a hard time letting go of the stress. Evenings are long, boring, and empty now. No worries though, I’m sure I’ll have relaxation down pat just as it’s time to start another class again. During audit season. And harvest-time. And birthdays-Thanksgiving-Christmas.
There is no such thing as balance.
A co-worker today caught me walking-and-reading on my way to the gym for a 10-minute break, and told me that he had heard somewhere that Edith Wharton’s mother wouldn’t let Edith read a book until she, the mother, had read and approved it. I told him it made sense to me: my parents did that with movies. He said movies are one thing, but books are another. I told him that books are worse. He gave me a “yeah, whatever” look, but I didn’t have time to explain myself because it was a workplace conversation. Office conversations with members of other departments cannot pass the 30-second mark. There’s a law about that somewhere.
But books are worse, and I spent a slow afternoon accumulating my reasoning.
Tuesday, 06/30/2009 - Written by Angela at 7:47 pm - No Comments - Musings, Our Little World - Permalink
I am burnt out. And I know that when I feel this way, I should not think. I should just turn off my brain and plod along until I can get some rest and be myself again. But I can’t help thinking. And my thoughts are not good. All I really want to do right now is crawl into bed, sleep for a week, and then read ten new books all in a row without any interruption. Oh, and did I mention that during this two-week period I must not see any people except me, myself, and I?
Right now, I resent everyone and everything who gets in the way of that shining dream.
BLAH.
Remember middle school math and the Lowest Common Denominator? You couldn’t add or subtract a fraction without it. It may have tormented you, but it certainly had its place and was useful in its own setting.
Out in the world though, the religion of the Lowest Common Denominator bothers me to no end. It first started in high school, where I think it was my chemistry teacher who introduced me to the real-life concept: “The Regents exam is a lowest-common-denominator test. You’ve learned far more than you’ll need to know, and you will all do very well, so don’t worry about it.” Why base the assessment of my “achievement” on only the smallest part of what I’ve learned?
In college, the concept popped up in “group projects.” As Leah said last weekend, one of the two ways a group project works itself out is when “everyone participates, and the group becomes as weak as its weakest link.” Unless the top one or two students in the group steps up and does all of the work, everyone must diminish himself to the level of the lowest student and work from there.
And it just keeps going. Last winter, Jeremy, trying as always to help me be better at people, and with the best of intentions, informed me that I would really seem a lot friendlier if I would stop using unusual words (such as, for example, “diminish” and “evince”). He then went on to say that if I just use an easier word that means approximately the same thing, people would like me more, and possibly understand me better. Apparently, purposely saying what I don’t mean would not make me a liar, it would make me nice. (!)
I rounded on him so fast and hard that his head was spinning for hours. In fact, he now denies ever saying such things!
Why does “fitting in” require that everyone diminish herself to the lowest possible level? In worldly practice, LCD is omnipresent and omnipotent. . . and therefore incomplete. By acting on LCD thinking, we sacrifice knowledge and understanding in order to fit in, or seem friendly, or keep from injuring another’s inflated sense of importance. Yet other than some fundamental DNA programming, which is really only mud and clay, the single shared element of every human on the face of the earth is God. Since the true lowest common denominator is omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient, we must not try to find our link to others by lowering ourselves to them. We should be lifting each other up.
Of course this won’t happen, but it really should.
[For the record, I have not changed my speaking patterns. Those who don't know the meaning of some of my words will derive it from context, thus sharpening their language skills. Since we think and communicate primarily in words, this raises their level of consciousness and helps them deepen as people. While it would be nice, my goals in life do not include being liked or understood, and I have no intention of bowing to any god but God.]
I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. I can’t find anywhere around here to fit in. I can’t find any challenges. And all of the things that have been most me for as long as I can remember have no purpose or place here.
I feel like I’m in a novel, and the person reading me has known exactly what I should be doing for the last two chapters. She’s been screaming at the book for the last 30 pages. She’s about ready to put it down and go watch TV.
You ever get that feeling?
When they’re dating, women think that men do silly things because they are acting like children. And so women think the silliness is cute.
After they’ve married, women learn that men act like children because they are children.
It’s God’s cosmic ROFL.
When we first moved into this house, we started paying down the short-term debt from our wedding. We did a good job.
Then we took a break, remodeled the bathroom, enjoyed some time with a little disposable income, and even added on to the house. Meanwhile, we’ve still been making payments on our student loans. About a year ago I noticed that the balance on one of Jeremy’s loans was under a thousand, and over time that started driving me crazy.