At dinner with a friend last night, we debated the idea of age, as we often do; she's a few years younger than me, and often reminds me of this. But, if you do the math, any difference in ages, percentage-wise, becomes less and less significant as the two of you get older.
(Sixty year old man with a fifty year old woman? Fine. Twenty-five year old guy with a fifteen year old girl? I think you see my point.)
Two things came to mind.
One, is there an "ideal age" for either gender? I think there's a magic age that a lot of people try to shoot for, in terms of how they act and dress, where they hang out, and what they secretly (or not-so-secretly) pine for. I'd suggest that for women that age is around 26, and for guys it's 19. I'm painting with a broad brush here, obviously.
Two, a bit that Louis CK has done recently rings very, very true: older people are smarter. I'll just let you watch him say it, because he says it better than I ever could. I've shown this to a class of mine recently (and apologized for the cuss words near the end), and they get it.
The moral of the story is this: getting older is a mixed blessing. But then again, so are most things in life.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
A Short Treatise regarding the Behaviour of the Gender opposite My Own on the Oft-Quoted Spectrum of Genders.
What the fuck is with you people?
Sunday, March 23, 2014
On religion.
So, Fred Phelps died this week.
Am I happy about that? I suppose. But not very, because the church he created (and apparently from which he was excommunicated last year) lives on. George Takei had a good take on it; to summarize, he suggested that love always triumphs over hate, in the end. And, more generally, I think it was Mark Twain who observed that there can be people whose deaths aren't to be celebrated, but aren't necessarily appropriate to feel sad about. Phelps being gone fits that bill pretty well.
The Westboro Baptist Church is an extreme flavour of religion, of course; its extreme-ness is why anyone talks about that particular, tiny congregation in a nondescript part of the US at all. But, religions find their way into a lot of corners of our lives, either through overt displays/rituals/symbols/practices, or though more subtle ways like the idioms in our language ("god forbid...").
The more I think about the whole concept of religion -- blind faith in something you can't prove is there, rituals that go back thousands of years that have weird and nonsensical meanings, rules that defy logic -- the more ridiculous the whole thing seems. It's a waste of time. I used to think it was interesting to think about different religions, and I guess it has a bit of a value in terms of historical curiosity, but these days that's fast losing its appeal.
Maybe part of it is because I'm actively seeking out a significant other, and in this town you've got a lot of people from a lot of backgrounds, and a lot of 'em belong to cultural groups that have a lot of rules, and a lot of those come from religion. (Full disclosure: I find a lot of different women attractive. Haven't always, but this place tends to open up your eyes.)
I am a member of the following groups:
(I used the phrase "passably Christian-ish" because I was raised in it, but don't consider myself Christian anymore, but can speak most of the lingo and am familiar with the general ideas, some of which are actually quite nice.)
But, just think about what we could do as a world if we just stopped thinking about religion, giving money to religious organizations, paying attention to who fucked who over, thousands of years ago. Who's specially-chosen, who's not. How much you have to cover your head/face/body in public. Who has a historical/divine right to certain places. Wasting time sitting on uncomfortable seats/kneeling on rugs/burning incense in shrines/getting up early/fasting/whipping yourself/going on missions to far-flung places/and so on.
The moral of the story is that it's Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings are for sleeping in.
Am I happy about that? I suppose. But not very, because the church he created (and apparently from which he was excommunicated last year) lives on. George Takei had a good take on it; to summarize, he suggested that love always triumphs over hate, in the end. And, more generally, I think it was Mark Twain who observed that there can be people whose deaths aren't to be celebrated, but aren't necessarily appropriate to feel sad about. Phelps being gone fits that bill pretty well.
The Westboro Baptist Church is an extreme flavour of religion, of course; its extreme-ness is why anyone talks about that particular, tiny congregation in a nondescript part of the US at all. But, religions find their way into a lot of corners of our lives, either through overt displays/rituals/symbols/practices, or though more subtle ways like the idioms in our language ("god forbid...").
The more I think about the whole concept of religion -- blind faith in something you can't prove is there, rituals that go back thousands of years that have weird and nonsensical meanings, rules that defy logic -- the more ridiculous the whole thing seems. It's a waste of time. I used to think it was interesting to think about different religions, and I guess it has a bit of a value in terms of historical curiosity, but these days that's fast losing its appeal.
Maybe part of it is because I'm actively seeking out a significant other, and in this town you've got a lot of people from a lot of backgrounds, and a lot of 'em belong to cultural groups that have a lot of rules, and a lot of those come from religion. (Full disclosure: I find a lot of different women attractive. Haven't always, but this place tends to open up your eyes.)
I am a member of the following groups:
- males
- white males
- straight white males
- straight white males who are passably Christian-ish
- straight white males who are passably Christian-ish with an education
- straight white males who are passably Christian-ish with an education who are employed
- straight white males who are passably Christian-ish with an education who are employed in an occupation that is near-universally respected
(I used the phrase "passably Christian-ish" because I was raised in it, but don't consider myself Christian anymore, but can speak most of the lingo and am familiar with the general ideas, some of which are actually quite nice.)
But, just think about what we could do as a world if we just stopped thinking about religion, giving money to religious organizations, paying attention to who fucked who over, thousands of years ago. Who's specially-chosen, who's not. How much you have to cover your head/face/body in public. Who has a historical/divine right to certain places. Wasting time sitting on uncomfortable seats/kneeling on rugs/burning incense in shrines/getting up early/fasting/whipping yourself/going on missions to far-flung places/and so on.
The moral of the story is that it's Sunday morning, and Sunday mornings are for sleeping in.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Grad school vs the Nine-to-Five Grind.
A recent acquaintance of mine is a PhD candidate at a university here in Toronto.
Full disclosure: I have a master's degree in educaton from Queen's. Getting this degree was ridiculously easy (save for my unhelpful thesis advisor, but that's another story; I could've done a project instead of a thesis and that point would've been moot). And, I'm sure that other graduate degrees range from (a.) a little harder to (b.) much, much harder than what I had to go through.
But, there are some things I'm certain of.
If you have a regular job, it will grind you down. You will likely not be able to go out and party on Friday nights, because all you will want to do is crawl into bed by 9:30. This means you get one night a week to yourself, really, so you'd better fucking make use of it.
Again, I didn't have the most difficult time in grad school, but fundamentally, it goes like this: if you don't have a lot of fixed time where you're supposed to be somewhere, that means it's all up to you as to how you arrange your life. And that's what grad school largely is, no matter if your program is easy or hard.
ECB, former frequent-commenter to this site's predecessor, had a hell of a time in grad school. Her program was bitchier than eight bitches in a bitch-boat. But, y'know what, she had (or, more likely, made) time for her friends. Why? Because she's a competent human being, that's why. Stand-up dame, that one.
So, when someone comes cryin' the blues -- ohhh, poor me, I'm so hard-done-by, grad school is soooo much work -- I'm a little sceptical. (Especially when this person has spent her entire life submerged in academia, and has only briefly held any semblance of a 9-to-5 gig.)
Hell, when I was doing my MEd, there were people there who had come straight out of either a BA/BSc, or had done their BEd and went straight into the master's of education program, and had the same complaint. They were in the same easy-ass program as I was! And, one of my colleagues -- who I don't believe ever finished the MEd, startlingly -- once told me that, even in his undergraduate experience, he'd never handed a paper in on time. Ever. Not once. And was continuing that streak in his MEd career.
The moral of the story is that people need perspective, and need to stop complaining when they actually have it fucking easy.
Full disclosure: I have a master's degree in educaton from Queen's. Getting this degree was ridiculously easy (save for my unhelpful thesis advisor, but that's another story; I could've done a project instead of a thesis and that point would've been moot). And, I'm sure that other graduate degrees range from (a.) a little harder to (b.) much, much harder than what I had to go through.
But, there are some things I'm certain of.
If you have a regular job, it will grind you down. You will likely not be able to go out and party on Friday nights, because all you will want to do is crawl into bed by 9:30. This means you get one night a week to yourself, really, so you'd better fucking make use of it.
Again, I didn't have the most difficult time in grad school, but fundamentally, it goes like this: if you don't have a lot of fixed time where you're supposed to be somewhere, that means it's all up to you as to how you arrange your life. And that's what grad school largely is, no matter if your program is easy or hard.
ECB, former frequent-commenter to this site's predecessor, had a hell of a time in grad school. Her program was bitchier than eight bitches in a bitch-boat. But, y'know what, she had (or, more likely, made) time for her friends. Why? Because she's a competent human being, that's why. Stand-up dame, that one.
So, when someone comes cryin' the blues -- ohhh, poor me, I'm so hard-done-by, grad school is soooo much work -- I'm a little sceptical. (Especially when this person has spent her entire life submerged in academia, and has only briefly held any semblance of a 9-to-5 gig.)
Hell, when I was doing my MEd, there were people there who had come straight out of either a BA/BSc, or had done their BEd and went straight into the master's of education program, and had the same complaint. They were in the same easy-ass program as I was! And, one of my colleagues -- who I don't believe ever finished the MEd, startlingly -- once told me that, even in his undergraduate experience, he'd never handed a paper in on time. Ever. Not once. And was continuing that streak in his MEd career.
The moral of the story is that people need perspective, and need to stop complaining when they actually have it fucking easy.
Friday, March 7, 2014
I'm an ironman.
No, I'm not talking about my blog-writing prowess -- although, y'know, I've had a blog stretching all the way back to late 2004 -- I'm talking about my record of sick days at work.
I started teaching in the fall of 2000. I took a sick day about 3 years ago. And I took another one Tuesday. (Oh, there have been days I've been away -- workshops, field trips, funerals, weddings, master's thesis stuff -- but we're talking about actual sick days here.) Boy-howdy, did I need it.
I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that, at 3:15am on Tuesday, working up the strength to type up lesson plans for my classes, and email them into the school, was no small feat. I lucked-out because all three of 'em could do something fairly independently, which is actually kind of a rare thing in my subject area. So yeah, I didn't feel quite so bad about that.
Here's the thing, though. When you're not there for the day, you don't really know who you're going to get in your place. You assume they're going to be about 30% competent, for a variety of reasons:
But, having supplied for a bit on the tail-end of my leave a few years ago, a lot of it has to do with how you approach the students. I found a good attitude to take was something along the lines of, "Look, this isn't optimal, and I know I'm not who you were expecting. But, we've got some work to do; I'll help you get it done, and if we get finished, we'll have some time to chill out at the end."
I started teaching in the fall of 2000. I took a sick day about 3 years ago. And I took another one Tuesday. (Oh, there have been days I've been away -- workshops, field trips, funerals, weddings, master's thesis stuff -- but we're talking about actual sick days here.) Boy-howdy, did I need it.
I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that, at 3:15am on Tuesday, working up the strength to type up lesson plans for my classes, and email them into the school, was no small feat. I lucked-out because all three of 'em could do something fairly independently, which is actually kind of a rare thing in my subject area. So yeah, I didn't feel quite so bad about that.
Here's the thing, though. When you're not there for the day, you don't really know who you're going to get in your place. You assume they're going to be about 30% competent, for a variety of reasons:
- There have been times when you neatly copy handouts, sticky-note the hell out of stuff, leaving detailed directions... and when you come back, you find the same neat piles of stuff, sticky-noted, with directions... exactly where you left them. The dope didn't come and get your stuff, and your kids sat there and dicked-around the whole class.
- The person who came in was just flat-out crazy. You've heard rumours that such-and-such a person was a little off their rocker, and you know kids exaggerate whenever possible, but the stories they tell when you get back can't possibly be made up by them.
- Maybe they saw the stuff the kids were looking at and thought, "Hey, I can teach that!" So they go off and try to teach the kids, usually with one of the following outcomes:
- they do it in a totally different way than you would, and/or they do it entirely wrong and screw up the kids and you have to spend the next two days undoing all the damage
- the kids see a supply teacher and immediately flip their brains into, "pff, it's not the regular guy, I ain't learnin' shit" mode
But, having supplied for a bit on the tail-end of my leave a few years ago, a lot of it has to do with how you approach the students. I found a good attitude to take was something along the lines of, "Look, this isn't optimal, and I know I'm not who you were expecting. But, we've got some work to do; I'll help you get it done, and if we get finished, we'll have some time to chill out at the end."
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Busy, fun, weird times down at the ol' schoolhouse.
I have a new crop of kids this semester, which started on January 31, and yes, that was a Friday, and yes, that means I saw my kiddies once and then we split for the weekend.
This semester I have one Grade 9 Applied Science, one Grade 11 University Prep Physics, and one Grade 11 IB Physics. Let's go through 'em, shall we?
1. Grade 9 Applied Science
To those of you not familiar with Ontario's education system these days, there's essentially two levels of courses in grades 9 and 10: Applied is a little less demanding, and Academic is, well, more academic. I've taught 'em all over my career, and each stream has its benefits and its drawbacks... and yes, I'm generalizing quite a bit.
Some of my best classes have been Applied, and some of my most-insane have been Academic. It's all dependent on the mix of kids, what other classes are running in that period, the chemistry between you and them, the time of day, the phase of the moon, who beat who in the NHL last night, and of course a coin-toss.
These kids are alright so far. I have one who's high-functioning Autistic who has very little filter on what he says, and another kid who's about five-feet-nothing and enjoys setting him off. (I've already moved them to opposite sides of the classroom. Also, they've been friends forever.) I have two girls beside each other who barely speak English, but speak different first-languages (Slovak and Hungarian, and no, they're not similar at all); it's funny to listen to them try and converse in broken English, but it's also not so funny when they don't understand a word I'm saying. One of my kids is obsessed with the idea of radiation. Another two are, oddly enough, from England (although one has an accent and the other's is gone). One is diabetic and wears an insulin pump. Another comes from clear across the city and is seldom on time. Another never says anything in class, but will speak in a low whisper to me afterward.
"Teaching: It's easy, right? Two months off in the summer, baby."
2. Grade 11 Uni Physics
It's been a while since I've taught this course, frankly... but it's an old friend, for sure. Kids get their first taste of an entire physics course here, after they have to put up with the "mix four different strands into the grade 9 and 10 courses" business. I remember thinking when I was in grade 10 science, "Oh man, I can't wait to have an entire course where I don't have to deal with this biology bullshit." (Full disclosure: I took two entire biology bullshit courses in high school.) (More disclosure: they were actually kinda useful, all in all, although not terribly pleasant.)
This class is always an interesting mix of fear and unabashed enthusiasm. On the fear side, you have kids who are told since they're little, "You are going to be an engineer," and naturally they have to take this course... regardless of how well they did in science up to that point. So, I get a fair number of kids who are in totally over their heads, but if they switched out of the course, their parents would (very possibly) murder them. They'll usually get dragged through by either me or their friends, end up with a 53, and they'll never take the subject again.
On the other hand, you have the enthusiastic lot. They, like I was, in the scenario described above, totally nerdy for physics, and this is their first chance to put the pedal to the metal. It might work out, it might not work out, but they're gonna give it their all and have fun doing labs and such.
This class is a mix of that, and more. Good vibe.
3. Grade 11 IB Physics
We have the IB program, which is for kids in grade 11 and 12; they apply for it during grade 8, take special versions of their 9/10 courses, and hit it for real in 11. Needless to say, for kids to have survived 9/10 in that competitive environment, plus having been motivated (and good) enough to apply (and get in) a few years back... it creates a very interesting environment.
I bet you had no idea that IB (and pre-IB 9/10) classes are, by far, the loudest ones I teach. They're social little monsters, these IBs; since they have so many classes together, they know each other extremely well. And, since they already have a lot in common, they're very friendly to each other. They may be chatting up a storm about what you're trying to teach them -- probably while you're trying to teach them, too -- but yeah, there it is.
That being said, IB/pre-IB classes are always a real treat to teach. Who wouldn't want a room full of certified nerds? Near-zero behaviour issues, parents are always engaged (and that's usually positive, although not always), and their memories are insanely-good; you'll mention something off-handedly once in class as an example of some idea, and on a test a month later, they'll give it back to you. Pretty nuts.
I'll tell you one drawback of IB, though. Since the final exam isn't written by us, and it's worth 76% of the course's final grade, that sets up some weird pressures. First off, we always feel like Big Brother is watching over our shoulders (because they are, actually) -- they write up the exam, and they don't trust how we mark labs so we have to send them random samples so they can check us. (Are we soft markers? Hard markers? Did the labs we do fulfill their nebulous and always-changing criteria? The answer is always, without fail, "You're a fucking terrible teacher, and we're docking all your kids marks.")
But, because the exam is worth so much -- and for other, more inside-baseball details I don't need to describe here -- there's a ton of pressure on these kids, and that comes out in weird ways. We had one a few years ago who started losing her hair in clumps because of the stress. There have been cheating issues (not on the final exam, but the in-between exams which help us predict their mark (and no, I'm not getting into that either)). Because they know the marking system, they'll start to exploit it by only doing the bare-minimum to get by, and they'll just nerd-out on old exams (which they can acquire online easily enough). In summary, things don't always turn out great.
This class seems alright, though. First quiz on Friday. We'll see how things are going.
So, that about sums it up for my kids. I'll leave out the part where we've had a guy in the department off on a leave since just before first-semester exams, and a revolving-door of supply teachers have filled in, and that means I've had to prepare his lessons on top of my own, and also deal with marks from his first semester classes, which were messed up in a bunch of ways and I had to fix them and field countless questions from his students, all of which fucking sucks balls, but thankfully it's over after this (mercifully) long weekend. Shit got real, as they say.
June is soon, right?
This semester I have one Grade 9 Applied Science, one Grade 11 University Prep Physics, and one Grade 11 IB Physics. Let's go through 'em, shall we?
* * * * *
1. Grade 9 Applied Science
To those of you not familiar with Ontario's education system these days, there's essentially two levels of courses in grades 9 and 10: Applied is a little less demanding, and Academic is, well, more academic. I've taught 'em all over my career, and each stream has its benefits and its drawbacks... and yes, I'm generalizing quite a bit.
| Criterion | Applied | Academic |
| Attitude towards academics | not so good | you can usually get nice and nerdy |
| Memory skills | "What? We learned that?" | "Yeah, we learned that." |
| Craziness level | lower | higher |
| Class size | smaller, usually 20-ish | bigger, usually 30-ish |
| Marking load | lower | bigger |
| Parent engagement | usually lower | usually higher |
Some of my best classes have been Applied, and some of my most-insane have been Academic. It's all dependent on the mix of kids, what other classes are running in that period, the chemistry between you and them, the time of day, the phase of the moon, who beat who in the NHL last night, and of course a coin-toss.
These kids are alright so far. I have one who's high-functioning Autistic who has very little filter on what he says, and another kid who's about five-feet-nothing and enjoys setting him off. (I've already moved them to opposite sides of the classroom. Also, they've been friends forever.) I have two girls beside each other who barely speak English, but speak different first-languages (Slovak and Hungarian, and no, they're not similar at all); it's funny to listen to them try and converse in broken English, but it's also not so funny when they don't understand a word I'm saying. One of my kids is obsessed with the idea of radiation. Another two are, oddly enough, from England (although one has an accent and the other's is gone). One is diabetic and wears an insulin pump. Another comes from clear across the city and is seldom on time. Another never says anything in class, but will speak in a low whisper to me afterward.
"Teaching: It's easy, right? Two months off in the summer, baby."
2. Grade 11 Uni Physics
It's been a while since I've taught this course, frankly... but it's an old friend, for sure. Kids get their first taste of an entire physics course here, after they have to put up with the "mix four different strands into the grade 9 and 10 courses" business. I remember thinking when I was in grade 10 science, "Oh man, I can't wait to have an entire course where I don't have to deal with this biology bullshit." (Full disclosure: I took two entire biology bullshit courses in high school.) (More disclosure: they were actually kinda useful, all in all, although not terribly pleasant.)
This class is always an interesting mix of fear and unabashed enthusiasm. On the fear side, you have kids who are told since they're little, "You are going to be an engineer," and naturally they have to take this course... regardless of how well they did in science up to that point. So, I get a fair number of kids who are in totally over their heads, but if they switched out of the course, their parents would (very possibly) murder them. They'll usually get dragged through by either me or their friends, end up with a 53, and they'll never take the subject again.
On the other hand, you have the enthusiastic lot. They, like I was, in the scenario described above, totally nerdy for physics, and this is their first chance to put the pedal to the metal. It might work out, it might not work out, but they're gonna give it their all and have fun doing labs and such.
This class is a mix of that, and more. Good vibe.
3. Grade 11 IB Physics
We have the IB program, which is for kids in grade 11 and 12; they apply for it during grade 8, take special versions of their 9/10 courses, and hit it for real in 11. Needless to say, for kids to have survived 9/10 in that competitive environment, plus having been motivated (and good) enough to apply (and get in) a few years back... it creates a very interesting environment.
I bet you had no idea that IB (and pre-IB 9/10) classes are, by far, the loudest ones I teach. They're social little monsters, these IBs; since they have so many classes together, they know each other extremely well. And, since they already have a lot in common, they're very friendly to each other. They may be chatting up a storm about what you're trying to teach them -- probably while you're trying to teach them, too -- but yeah, there it is.
That being said, IB/pre-IB classes are always a real treat to teach. Who wouldn't want a room full of certified nerds? Near-zero behaviour issues, parents are always engaged (and that's usually positive, although not always), and their memories are insanely-good; you'll mention something off-handedly once in class as an example of some idea, and on a test a month later, they'll give it back to you. Pretty nuts.
I'll tell you one drawback of IB, though. Since the final exam isn't written by us, and it's worth 76% of the course's final grade, that sets up some weird pressures. First off, we always feel like Big Brother is watching over our shoulders (because they are, actually) -- they write up the exam, and they don't trust how we mark labs so we have to send them random samples so they can check us. (Are we soft markers? Hard markers? Did the labs we do fulfill their nebulous and always-changing criteria? The answer is always, without fail, "You're a fucking terrible teacher, and we're docking all your kids marks.")
But, because the exam is worth so much -- and for other, more inside-baseball details I don't need to describe here -- there's a ton of pressure on these kids, and that comes out in weird ways. We had one a few years ago who started losing her hair in clumps because of the stress. There have been cheating issues (not on the final exam, but the in-between exams which help us predict their mark (and no, I'm not getting into that either)). Because they know the marking system, they'll start to exploit it by only doing the bare-minimum to get by, and they'll just nerd-out on old exams (which they can acquire online easily enough). In summary, things don't always turn out great.
This class seems alright, though. First quiz on Friday. We'll see how things are going.
* * * * *
So, that about sums it up for my kids. I'll leave out the part where we've had a guy in the department off on a leave since just before first-semester exams, and a revolving-door of supply teachers have filled in, and that means I've had to prepare his lessons on top of my own, and also deal with marks from his first semester classes, which were messed up in a bunch of ways and I had to fix them and field countless questions from his students, all of which fucking sucks balls, but thankfully it's over after this (mercifully) long weekend. Shit got real, as they say.
June is soon, right?
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Ugh.
Every so often, I have an existential crisis.
(But honestly... I think about the last few women I've gone out with, and... well... they just didn't fit, alright? One was jumpy/wacky/nutty, another was just flat-out boring, and the last one was waaaaaay too politically correct. Not that I'm not PC, because I am, but absolutely insisting that we meet up at an independent coffee shop rather than a chain? That was red flag numero uno; not that I'm against the indie places, because I'm not, rather the strenuousness of the insistence. I guess you had to be there.)
I was bemoaning this fact to a friend recently, including the bulleted points above, and the reply was the standard one: "J, you've got a successful career, a place of your own, several degrees, a car, and you've travelled around. You've accomplished a lot." And yeah, she's right, I'm awesome. So then I started thinking a little more about these crises, and about how our minds and memories work in general.
It's easy for us to see the things we don't have, because we spend a lot of time already thinking about these things; they're at top-of-mind pretty frequently, and we can recall them at a moment's notice. But the things we do have, even if they're significant accomplishments... how much time do we reflect on those? "Gee, let me take twenty minutes and reflect on how rare it is, in our society, to have a degree in physics from one of the most highly-regarded technological universities in the country. ... Boy, that's a swell thing I did." *
And so, my bitching and complaining seems, yet again, rather foolish. I mean, sure, I haven't accomplished all I'd liked to have accomplished by now; if I had, I'd sure as hell be knee-deep in naturally-blonde left-handed Korean supermodels multiple nights per week, while playing a defensively-solid third base for the World Series champion Detroit Tigers. But hey, navel-gazing is a natural human pastime; we all fall prey to it, now and again -- and I'd argue it's a powerful force which propels us forwards to check even more stuff off our lists.
__________________________
* Not to toot my own horn or anything, but... beep-beep.
- What am I doing with my life?
- Am I just an idiot man-child?
- How am I, in any way, a functional adult male?
(But honestly... I think about the last few women I've gone out with, and... well... they just didn't fit, alright? One was jumpy/wacky/nutty, another was just flat-out boring, and the last one was waaaaaay too politically correct. Not that I'm not PC, because I am, but absolutely insisting that we meet up at an independent coffee shop rather than a chain? That was red flag numero uno; not that I'm against the indie places, because I'm not, rather the strenuousness of the insistence. I guess you had to be there.)
I was bemoaning this fact to a friend recently, including the bulleted points above, and the reply was the standard one: "J, you've got a successful career, a place of your own, several degrees, a car, and you've travelled around. You've accomplished a lot." And yeah, she's right, I'm awesome. So then I started thinking a little more about these crises, and about how our minds and memories work in general.
It's easy for us to see the things we don't have, because we spend a lot of time already thinking about these things; they're at top-of-mind pretty frequently, and we can recall them at a moment's notice. But the things we do have, even if they're significant accomplishments... how much time do we reflect on those? "Gee, let me take twenty minutes and reflect on how rare it is, in our society, to have a degree in physics from one of the most highly-regarded technological universities in the country. ... Boy, that's a swell thing I did." *
And so, my bitching and complaining seems, yet again, rather foolish. I mean, sure, I haven't accomplished all I'd liked to have accomplished by now; if I had, I'd sure as hell be knee-deep in naturally-blonde left-handed Korean supermodels multiple nights per week, while playing a defensively-solid third base for the World Series champion Detroit Tigers. But hey, navel-gazing is a natural human pastime; we all fall prey to it, now and again -- and I'd argue it's a powerful force which propels us forwards to check even more stuff off our lists.
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* Not to toot my own horn or anything, but... beep-beep.
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