Bewilderment

Normally I am annoyed when students act like morons, but I have a particular student this semester who has behaved in ways that are...well...astounding! I am genuinely baffled. It has gone far beyond mere annoyance because annoyance is usually accompanied by some level of understanding. This student's behavior is so nonsensical that my mind has entered into the territory of utter bewilderment.

To start with, she was approximately 20 to 30 minutes late for (a 50 minute) class multiple times throughout the semester. I should have failed her for excessive tardy accumulation, but I guess I was being pretty lenient about the tardies this semester. Anyway, one day she came in mildly late and didn't sign the roll sheet. I asked her if she had come in after it had gone around the class, and she said that it was still going around when she came in but that it didn't get to her. It didn't get to her. Apparently it was this inanimate object's job to make its way directly into her hands as opposed to the other way around. God forbid she get off her ass and do something for herself. One can surmise that this girl has had trouble signing the roll sheet all semester. I cannot count how many times I reminded the entire class, and then her specifically, that if they do not sign the roll sheet, they will be counted absent. Her response was always, "Ooh," after which she proceeded to...NOT SIGN THE ROLL SHEET.

We have been teaching ancient rhetoric in place of Freshman composition this semester. Progymnasmatas are ancient Greek exercises for young rhetoricians. We had 3 due this semester, and they were the only major assignments due aside from the final project. They, along with the final project, comprise 50 percent of the students' overall grades. This particular student failed all of them. She either did not turn them in at all or she turned in incomplete versions of them. Each exercise had 3 parts to it. When returning the third and final progymnasmata to her, I noted that she got an F because it was incomplete. It was a third the length it should have been because she only completed one of the three parts. Her response to this was, "Ooh. We were supposed to do the other parts too?" The other parts. Definite pronoun, meaning she knew there were two other parts to the assignment, she just thought they were optional, I suppose. This was the third and final exercise, mind you. I said, "Yes. That was the assignment. It has been virtually the same assignment all semester, all 3 times." Her response, "Ooh."

The students were able to rewrite one of the three progymnasmatas for a better grade by the end of the semester. The only stipulation was that the original grade had to be a D or higher. They could not rewrite any assignment for which they received an F for incompleteness or failure to turn it in in the first place. This student not only turned in a rewrite despite the fact that she failed all three exercises, but it wasn't even a rewrite of one of the three exercises available for rewrite. It was a rewrite of a daily assignment, all of which were COMPLETION GRADES, meaning it was a 100 if they did it and a zero if they didn't. Obviously, if she was rewriting it, the original grade was a zero. Allow me to recap: the rewrite was for an assignment not available for rewrite (as she could not have rewritten any of the progymnasmatas she failed), and it was a rewrite of a failed grade anyway. Double fail. But it gets better. The rewrite she turned in was executed INCORRECTLY. She did not follow the instructions for the original assignment, so she wouldn't have gotten credit for it anyway. Triple fail. She rewrote an assignment that was not available for rewrite on two levels, and she rewrote it incorrectly.

It seems to me that this student's problem is that she is COMPLETELY INCAPABLE of following simple instructions or listening to them in the first place. My instructions for all assignments and class policy was gone over extensively and repeatedly in class and then was posted online at their Blackboard page. I have had plenty of morons come through my classes in the past. It is neither surprising or incomprehensible. The level of which this student has bombed everything she has attempted, however, is amazing to me. I've never seen anything like it. I've had students blame me and/or everything/one else on the planet for their own fuck-ups. I've had multiple students simply stop showing up halfway through the semester without dropping the class thereby failing. I've had students bomb multiple assignments while at least having the maturity to take responsibility for their mistakes.

But this is the first time I've had a student screw up this badly while seeming to be completely unaware that she's screwing up. It's as if there is an incomplete circuit in communication. I provide information, but it's not getting to her just as the roll sheet didn't get to her. But while she's obviously not taking responsibility for her part in this class, she is also not blaming me or anyone else for her failure. She's simply not acknowledging it at all. It doesn't seem that she's apathetic. She is attempting to complete and turn in assignments. She comes to class, late or not. It seems as though she is just incapable of performing the necessary functions to succeed in this environment, and she's so unaware of what that even means, that she is also incapable of acknowledging failure. Unfortunately, the result of that reality seems to be that she will never be able to learn or progress in any environment in which she must perform any function beyond basic motor skills.

Teaching a Freshman level core class at a typical state university has been an eye-opening experience. I am constantly confronted with various levels of intelligence. There are the A students (few and far between, unfortunately) who are bored with the class because of the need to also cater to the students who are struggling to pass. There are the C students who may be amazing mathematicians or engineers but have no interest in the humanities. They pass with a C, and they are happy. There are the students who are simply not ready for college because they are far from adulthood despite their age. They are not unintelligent necessarily. They are just irresponsible. This student, however, is the first I've had who I would actually consider to be borderline mentally challenged. It is the end of the semester, and I still don't know how to communicate with her. I don't know why I am so baffled by her. If I am (rarely) confronted with the highly intelligent, then it makes sense that I would also be confronted with those on the opposing end of the spectrum. Interestingly, I'm not surprised that she got into college. The work that she has completed is not bad. It's comprehensible, coherent and even somewhat insightful at times. It's as if her dysfunctionality exists entirely within the realm of communication. Roll sheets don't get to her. Information about assignments and policy doesn't get to her. Vital reminders to avoid class failure do not get to her even when they are proverbially placed in her lap. This is what I simply do not understand.

Live and Let Live

I will fully admit to getting bent out of shape about things over which I have little or no control. I do it all the time. It is, in my opinion, one of my major flaws, one of the main things that keeps me from being content in life, and it is one of my major focal points on the road of spiritual development. It is a hard habit to kick. For instance, I left my apartment today to go meet a professor at his office, and I immediately became nearly enraged by various impediments. For instance, the city does not monitor street parking very well, and there are various areas where cars are allowed to park all along both sides of relatively narrow streets. You can imagine how much this problem obscures visibility at crossroads not to mention causing near collisions daily with cars pulling in and out of parking spots and driveways as well as near collisions with pedestrians and cyclists. Impediment number one. Furthermore, Denton is full of hippie cyclists who think they own the road despite their unwillingness to cycle faster than 5 miles per hour in front of a line of vehicles in a 30 mph zone. Impediment number 2. Denton also seems to be full of pedestrian students who like to stand directly in parking spaces that vehicles are clearly attempting to back into. Impediment number 3. So on. So forth. I'd like to say that it is just the oblivion of youth, but frankly I've witnessed people living in such oblivion straight into their graves.

I am not proud of such frustrations. Not the impediments themselves. Those are not my problem (though I wish I were better at recognizing this fact in the moment). It is the getting frustrated of which I am not proud. However, generally the things that frustrate me despite my inability to control or change the circumstances, are things that directly affect me. This is why I call them "impediments." Many of them literally impede my movement - my ability to get where I'm going swiftly and efficiently. If they do not literally impede motion, they at least figuratively do so.

What I have a difficult time understanding is why people work themselves into piping, red pretzels over things that have absolutely no affect on them whatsoever. I am speaking mainly of the conservatives that have frustrated me (because they, for no clear reason, act as direct impediments by berating and intentionally making life more difficult for me or those I care about), but I'm sure liberals and everyone in between are guilty as well. For instance, I had a student submit a blog entry today essentially bitching at me because of the placement of my tattoos. He claimed that people with visible tattoos are "not smart" about such decisions and that they should not make such unwise decisions because it could ruin future job prospects. My question is, what on earth do my tattoos and my job prospects have to do with this kid? He doesn't know me. He doesn't care about me. His life has absolutely nothing to do with mine outside of the classroom. He's not concerned about my job prospects (his concerns didn't even apply to academia but to the business world where everyone wears dress shirts and suits anyway). His blog entry was a candy-coated way of saying that he doesn't like my tattoos and that he thinks they're inappropriate and that I shouldn't have them. Well, good for him. I still don't see what that has to do with me or what my body looks like has to do with him. That's like saying "I'm offended by the shape of your eyebrows and I don't think they should be shaped like that anymore." Okay. So stop looking at my eyebrows (tattoos) and mind your own business!

The same goes for the homophobe who thinks that an adult individual having sex with another adult individual in the privacy of their own bedroom on the other side of town (or state, or country, or world) has something directly to do with said homophobe. Homophobes have claimed that gay marriage defiles the "sanctity of marriage" in general. But what does one person's marriage have to do with a complete stranger's marriage? Each relationship, each marriage, is wholly unique and autonomous. Yes, there are certain conventions that many people follow, but just as no two individuals are alike, neither are relationships between individuals. The "institution" of marriage is a construct. What is fascinating is that in the recent Republican platform, Republicans actually had the nerve to rhetorically depict gay marriage and the acknowledgment of homosexuality as a valid lifestyle as an "assault" on heterosexuality and heterosexual marriage.

To such unfortunate, delusional souls, I will say this: Live and let live. The people and lifestyles you are ideologically (and sometimes legislatively) attacking HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. They are not impeding your lives in any way. They are not hurting you. They are not affecting you whatsoever. If you feel that you are being affected, that is your choice and that is your problem. Please stop making it everyone else's.

Not that stupid Winona and Richard Gere movie.

I was thinking about the weather and I found a request for review in my copy of Gertrude Stein's Lectures in America from 1975 and I started to think, as I often do, that I don't belong where and when I am. I suppose the grass is always greener, and I suppose you belong wherever and whenever you are if you're comfortable with who you are. Your home is under your hat. So on. So forth. But I often fantasize, however unhealthy that is, about being in a different time and/or place living a different sort of life. It is not to say that I don't like my current life; I just like to have alternative options. So I imagine myself in New York in autumn in the 70s.

I didn't really have autumns where I grew up. It was always warm/hot and moist and filled with evergreens. So I think of the chilly, crisp air, the brisk breeze, the yellow and orange and red leaves and the brown ones covering the sidewalks and the parks. I'm wearing wide-legged, woolen trousers and a matching blazer, or maybe a gray, woolen dress and a black coat with a colorful scarf. And maybe a beret. And I'm in the park, maybe Washington Square walking my dog, maybe a Golden Retriever. And I think, dog breeds haven't changed much. So much of our culture has changed since the 70s. Everything is faster, more immediate, more impatient. But the dogs are the same. There have always been poodles and chihuahuas and terriers and golden retrievers and labs and pugs. You never see brand new, out-of-the-blue dog breeds. You see different kinds of mutts, but not brand new pure breds.

Anyway, so in summer, in August in Texas, this is what I think about. I sit in my air-conditioned living room out of the steamy heat of the summer rain or the blistering, brow-beating, dead heat of the sun-struck afternoon and I fantasize about New York in autumn. And microfiche.

A Problem Student as a Conduit for Spiritual Awakening

So I've been having altercations with one of my students for the past couple of weeks, and today he flipped out again, but this time it was directed toward one of his classmates instead of me. This unfortunate incident allowed me to view the situation from the perspective of an outsider, and I was finally able to have a good internal laugh at his expense. That's not to say that I condone his behavior; it's just that before, I was too offended to find humor in the situation. What is unfortunate is that it took him targeting someone else for me to find said humor. I'm hoping his classmate is less sensitive than I.

So here's the deal with....let's call him Xavier. Xavier has delusions of grandeur. He thinks he's a supergenius who has the uncanny ability to out-everything everyone. He gets extremely frustrated and combative any time anyone a) doesn't recognize his supergeniushood or b) doesn't exhibit supergeniushood him or herself. The thing is Xavier's personality type is not at all uncommon. It may be a rather extreme case, but I think most people have the tendency to become frustrated when others don't behave as we would have them behave - when the order of the universe thwarts our desires.

After I couldn't help but chortle at Xavier's preposterous, aneurysm-inducing behavior, I came to recognize something of myself in that behavior. Though I don't believe I have any delusions of grandeur or supergeniushood, I will admit to being a bit of an elitist. I get rather frustrated rather often at people who act in ways that I would deem ignorant, inefficient or irresponsible. (Let's call them the three Rs just for shits and giggles!) I also tend to dwell in that frustration and engage in the occasional flip-out. What Xavier allowed me to realize today is that such reactions do nothing but make an ass out of the reactor. Of course, I always knew that fist-shaking and screaming within the confines of my own vehicle is not going to make senile, half-blind grandpa drive any closer to the speed limit, but I rarely get to witness my reactions from the outside. And quite frankly, I have no desire to ever make an ass out of myself the way Xavier made an ass out of himself today.

To backtrack a bit, as I mentioned, Xavier's behavior (:)), though extreme, is not uncommon. The neuroses I have exhibited for much of my life stem, in large part, from being reprimanded, attacked and ridiculed by people whose desires or ideals I have inadvertently thwarted simply by living my life and being myself. Believe it or not, some people get horribly offended by my tattoos, vegetarianism, love of the f-bomb and communistic ideals. Some people get offended when homosexuals have sex with each other in the privacy of their own bedrooms. Hell, I hate Frats and Sororities even though I've never been directly wronged by any of them.

We all have our ideals, our concept of an ideal world. But all of our concepts are different, varying slightly or dramatically. That is the world in which we live. We do not have the right to attack each other because our very being may offend one another. That path will never change or accomplish anything but to perpetuate negativity. As Confucius, the Buddha and many other wise sages have said for millennia, the flow of life is already happening. All of our paths (humans, animals, flora, elements, molecules, etc.) comprise that flow. It would behoove us all to harmonize with it. The world is as it is, and that greater life force will flow much easier when we stop trying to dam it up all the time.

Henry Kissinger

Sociopaths exist throughout all walks of life. Whether we condemn them and hold them accountable for their misdeeds or whether we revere and praise them for their "merits" depends entirely upon whether they are individual citizens working alone or whether they are military or heads of state working for the "nation's interests."

Aspen groves

I think the best way to reconcile oneself with the balance between individuality and unity is to think of humanity, and in a greater sense all living beings on this planet, and in a greater sense all living beings in the universe, as an Aspen grove.

Though each tree appears to be its own individual entity, it is in fact one part of a greater system -- the grove. While each tree manifests individually, its branches and leaves dispersing in wholly unique ways, they are all linked by a single root system. They are fundamentally linked at their foundation though they manifest separately. Some trees may look very similar with few subtle differences while others appear vastly different from the rest, hardly resembling an Aspen at all. Nonetheless, they are all inextricably linked by their foundation -- their root system. The death of one, as John Donne would say, diminishes the entire grove while the birth of another enhances it.

If any individual ignorantly chooses to take another's life, or to try to destroy another for fear of being diminished himself, he is not only acting foolishly but ironically as well, for taking that life, destroying that other is accomplishing exactly what he fears. If one wants to enhance himself, he must and will inevitably, enhance the "grove." To poison him against this diminishes the world. Ignorance breeds ignorance, and it is both a difficult and noble task to act as the end of such a line.

The Department of Defense was once the Department of War

Those who claim to be and/or fancy themselves victims are more lethal than anybody because they will never admit responsibility for anything and therefore can never truly be held accountable for their actions and involvements.

Like sociopaths, in their heart of hearts, they believe that they have done nothing wrong -- that any wrongdoing is the fault of someone or something else. Or, at least that is what they would have others believe.

Therefore, any action is deemed justified or justifiable because of their innate victimhood which is the antithesis of anything predatory.

Frustration

I came home for the second day in a row to find that there are no parking spots in my parking lot. There are 8 apartments in this complex and 18 parking spots. I realize that some of these apartments house 2, maybe 3 people (or, hell, 5 - as when I lived with Greg and the boys), and that 1 car households are a thing of the past, but seriously? 18 parking spots. All filled. Or, rather, 16 or 17 filled and a couple of morons who couldn't park parallel to the lines if held at gun point. Anyway, I kinda lost it. Not publicly, but in my mind as usual. I just finished watching The Machinist, and for some reason, I think the film left me in a weird mood. Bleak landscapes and themes of neurosis and isolation, I suppose.

Anyway, various frustrations have been building for me for the past few months, and it feels like it's all coming to a boil. In a post on Facebook, I described the sensation as "walls of idiocy closing in on me - suffocating me". Life can be pretty roller-coastery. Sometimes it's a whip-lash inducing wooden ride that leaves you feeling bruised. Other times it's a death defying, fancy new ride that throws you for a lot of loops and dives. Other times it's a pretty tame, fun kiddie ride that's totally manageable. Hell, sometimes you're just sitting there for what feels like forever just waiting for the ride to start while some kid in the back's holding the whole shit up screaming, wanting to get out. Frequently, I can feel the tension building before it actually boils over, like the slow, upward clicking of the ride just before the fall. I know I've gotten myself into trouble and am just wondering whether it's too late to get my money back. Fortunately, the more rides I venture to endure, the better I get at stomaching the turns. I'm not quite at the point where I can carelessly throw my hands up and squeal with glee, but I'm also no longer the kid in the back frantically screaming to get off.

Rumi suggests that we have to recognize that we are already "living within the ocean", so there's no point in struggling to stay above the surface. The fact is, I'm on the ride. I won't be done until my last breath releases that big, metal harness from my shoulders and waste (please excuse the ridiculous extension of this metaphor). I can choose to panic; I can choose to feel stuck; I can also choose to accept my reality, throw my hands up and trust the ride. What's the worst I can encounter? Death? Well, yeah, that's an inevitable part of this ride - one of many parts over which I have no control.

After flipping my internal lid over having to park in the street yet again, I jotted down a list of my recent frustrations. I figured I could manage them better if I actually saw them on paper. I immediately marked off the ones I could clearly do nothing about or that needn't necessarily even concern me personally. That only rid me of a couple. I also immediately recognized that they were all external issues, except the final one: I feel stuck. So how does one go about "unslumping" oneself, as Dr. Seuss says? I took another look at the list and realized, with a little shift in perspective, that none of them need cause me much grief. You see, I have a tendency to give myself a heart attack over the behavior of others - other drivers, pedestrians, students, the entire department that employs me, etc. I think because I am forced to interact with these people on a daily basis, I cannot avoid being affected my their idiocy, inefficiency or intolerance. It may seem obvious that this is not the case, but when mindlessly running on automatic pilot, that reality never occurs to me. My immediate response to the idea of "acceptance" is that I am allowing such travesties to perpetuate. I am passively resigning to them and refusing to fight for what is good and right. What I am overlooking, however, is that the behavior of others is not within my realm of control. I cannot force my students to give a shit about their education, about their minds, about their worth as human beings. I can try to inspire them, to set an example, but I cannot affect them without their consent. I cannot force other drivers on the road to be more mindful, courteous and safe, nor can I force them to live their off-road lives in the same way.

In a nutshell, my default perception seems to be that "idiots shouldn't exist", "impediments shouldn't exist", "if everyone were more gracious and graceful, giving a shit about themselves and each other, communism wouldn't have failed". Apparently, I didn't lose all sense of idealism after the invasion of Iraq, as I thought I did. Somehow, it never occurs to me in these moments that the world is not now, nor ever was, comprised of brilliant, mindful communists with a high level of self-worth. Hell, if I don't fit this description, why should anyone else? The fact is, there are idiots in the world. Lots of them. There are lots of assholes, too. There are even some bigots and a sprinkling of sociopaths. That is the reality in which we all live. "Shoulds" are ultimately irrelevant. I am intrinsically aware of this. This is a realization I come to often. Yet I inevitably end up on that slow, clicking ascent toward doom wondering how I got here at least once a year, when all I have to do is see the ride for what it is, throw my hands up and trust my ability to take that fall with grace for my own sake and maybe even as a lesson for that screaming kid in the back.

The Physiological versus the Spiritual Dimensions of Growth

A crazed soccer mom keyed my car today. I've never had my car keyed before, and it made me sad that it happened to my shiny new car instead of the dull old one. While discussing the incident with a friend, he made a rather insightful statement. He said, and I paraphrase, Just because someone looks like an adult doesn't mean he/she actually is one. This seems obvious, especially considering the circumstances, but I had never really thought about this concept deeply.

When I worked at Planned Parenthood, I would see tens of women a day - women of all different ages and backgrounds. Occasionally, I would see women whose outside age clearly did not match their inside age. And this goes beyond the all too common moronic 19-23-year-olds who simply haven't been paying attention for the past 19-23 years. I remember a 15-year-old of whom I was envious. She seemed so confident, self-assured and at ease with herself and the world around her. She knew all about her body and reproductive health - had it all covered. She was fully responsible for her functioning existence on this planet. I was awestruck. Then there was the occasional 40-year-old who didn't know how pregnancy and/or STDs worked, and worse, didn't care.

So anyway, my friend's comment made me think about what aging actually is. We live in a culture that is very physically ageist. Commercials and ads bombard our televisions and magazines with anti-aging creams and make-up. Even teeth-whitening products use age as a selling point...like my teeth weren't yellow when I was twelve! Of what are they trying to convince us? If we can stave off wrinkles, we can stave off death? All physical signs of aging reveal is that our bodies are wearing out, and eventually they will break down entirely never to restart. This is life. This is how it works.

But what of the spiritual dimension of aging? What does it mean to age spiritually? Buddhists, Hindus and various other world religions believe that spiritual aging, or rather development, occurs over the course of many lifetimes, not just one. The metaphors we use to discuss spiritual aging indicate an upward movement, a progression, a completion. We speak of development and of growth. When we speak of physical aging, metaphors imply a downward movement or decay. Thus it only makes sense that, if souls exist, they should ascend (to heaven, another life, nirvana, etc.) as our bodies are interred.

So what constitutes someone's actual age? The number of years they've been on the planet utilizing their current body? How many wrinkles they have on their face or age spots on their hands? Or is it what they've learned, whether they've been paying attention, whether they and the world around them have benefited from the lessons they've mastered? What happens when you meet a woman with a leathery complexion and "mom jeans" complete with a lower-abdominal pooch who says she's 27? What happens when you cross paths with a road-rager who stalks you through a parking lot, screaming at you out of her driver window, then keys your car as soon as you're out of sight for accidentally cutting her off due to her own poor driving skills?

When we think of words like "adult" or "grown-up", certain concepts accompany these terms. There is functional maturity: living on one's own, paying bills, mortgages, taking out life insurance policies, birthing smaller versions of oneself, buying a car, etc. Then there's emotional/intellectual maturity (or whatever you want to call it): understanding personal responsibility, learning how to maneuver gracefully through a world filled with lots of very different people, dealing gracefully with anger and frustration, learning what it really means to love, etc. The latter type of maturity is obviously much more challenging than the former. Some people, people who are perpetually taken care of by the men in their lives or by Mommy and Daddy, and then Mommy and Daddy's money when Mommy and Daddy die, never achieve either state of maturity. Many more people never achieve the latter. Can they be considered "adults"? "Grown-ups"? Some may say, if they walk like ducks and talk like ducks...But is this truly the case? Or are they just children in grown-up suits?

A friend and colleague of mine counts her students absent when they are physically in class but mentally elsewhere. If they are in their seats but texting their friends, sleeping or listening to their Ipods, they are counted absent...because, figuratively speaking, they are. So if a person has physically aged but remained figuratively absent his/her entire life, has this person truly lived, truly aged, truly grown up? We speak of legally mentally challenged individuals as having the brain of, say, a 6-year-old. But aren't there a lot of "adults" out there with the emotional maturity of a 6-year-old? My contention is that you are not only as old as you feel, but you are also as old as you act on a consistent basis. If you've been on the planet for 37 years and haven't learned a damn thing, you can hardly be called a 37-year-old. Nonetheless, since you have technically been on the planet for 37 years, you can and should be held accountable for those 37 years. Students who accumulate an outrageous number of absences, physically or figuratively, fail their classes. They are held accountable. A physical 37-year-old who is 4 on the inside should nevertheless be held accountable. And for some strange reason, I have faith that karma will do the trick.

Dr. Seuss: Everyone's Favorite Liberal

So I get in the same globalization argument with my father every time I spend more than 5 or 6 days straight with him. This last time, at Christmas, it was about Walmart. Anyway, so I noticed something on a friend's post on Facebook that made me start thinking about this issue. This is a perfect example for my students about what should comprise an observation essay; note to self. It mentioned Egypt's independence from Great Britain. Obviously, I started thinking about colonization. The analogy I posted is that colonization/globalization is like me going over to a friend's place and telling her that her house is now mine. When she resists, I just cut off her water supply or destroy her indoor plumbing until she's forced to leave.

I think it's good to create analogies that suggest a microcosmic situation that mirrors common macrocosmic situations. It allows us to see the global world for what it really is, in terms that hit closer to home. It also allows us to reflect upon the ridiculous nature of global politics. Obviously, it's not funny on a practical level, but conceptually, I can't help but chuckle. Why on earth would such a microcosmic situation be utterly reprehensible, but the same situation on a global scale is perfectly fine and "business as usual"? It's like murder being morally reprehensible and illegal, but war being perfectly reasonable and even necessary in the name of "Freedom" (money, oil, other such resources gained, child labor, etc.). Of course, the reason no one questions this is the same reason many of my students can't write observation essays. As long as they have their Walmart-bought toys assembled in Taiwan by 7-year-old shoeless and malnourished children, what more is there to think about? It ain't their house being invaded. Then, I must admit my own hypocrisy. Walmart's not the only bad guy. Our entire culture is founded upon this globalized economy. Hell, this computer was probably built in Taiwan. Nonetheless, there's something to be said for awareness. It's a step.

Returning to the argument between my father and me, his stand - and I don't mind calling it an uneducated one - is the same argument that has been used to indoctrinate citizens since the founding of the East India Company. "They want us there! They love us! We make their lives better! If it weren't for us, they'd have nothing!" This is the argument fabricated by colonizing forces to convince a citizenry that benefited from Indian wares that what was happening was not a moral and ethical atrocity. Because this citizenry DID benefit regarding material wealth and well being, they had no problem buying the argument hook, line and sinker. The Indians were not made SLAVES; their lives were improved because they got to WORK! With the rise of the middle class, work was the new black. Aristocracy was soooo five minutes ago.

Now, globalization is the new colonization. Rather than stealing the house, we're now just robbing it of its wealth. Rather than generously bestowing the prospect of work on the "little people" of the world, we are giving them MONEY - a whole whopping 18 cents an hour! More importantly, we're generously offering them an invite to the world of capitalism. It's not so much that they would have nothing without us; they would just be subsisting, living off of THEIR land, and providing for themselves and their families. Sure, they'd be "poor" comparatively, but they'd be autonomous. They'd be working for themselves. They would set the standards for working conditions. They wouldn't be dependent. They wouldn't be consumers. They wouldn't be abused. There's nothing wrong with being "poor" compared to the Western world. When wealth means dying of obesity, who needs it? After all, it's like Dr. Seuss said: "Nobody needs Thneeds."

Cultural Phenomenon

So I've had some ideas loosely floating around in my head for, oh, a decade, maybe 15 years or so. This seems to be a good place for me to loose my frustrations, so I thought I'd try to consolidate these floaters. A lot of this may seem horrendously obvious, but I feel that writing it down helps me to make sense of things a bit better, if sense is possible. Here goes nothin'.

I think Christianity, consumerism and corporate media together play a heavy hand in the creation of our culture as a whole. Likely the heaviest by far. I have been vexed and often appalled by blatant displays of a complete and utter lack of personal responsibility by those around me. The daily conflicts of driving in traffic, trying to find parking spots, grading student papers, etc. act as a constant reminder. This is a theme I have touched upon in various other blog entries, but I am trying to consolidate them here.

My students can't think critically. They don't know how to analyze anything. A text, a photo, a T-shirt or bumper sticker. Nothing. Of course some of them can - likely products of both good nature and nurture. With most, however, I feel that I'm beating my head against a wall. Their theses are broad and unargumentative. They summarize and generalize. They dance across the surface seemingly unaware that there exists a vital and amazing depth waiting to be pursued. For some it's sheer laziness. For others it's sheer ignorance. My question is how one achieves the age of 18, 19 or 20 never having analyzed anything, critically thought about a thing in their entire lives such that they don't even know how to begin. I can show them examples, good and bad. I can give them the definition of "analysis". I can walk through an example analysis with them. I can answer the same question 17 times in 17 different ways and yet some of their final papers look little different than their first. I believe that this is because, for 18, 19, 20 years they have been indoctrinated to tape their own eyes shut, plug their own ears and open their gaping mouths ready for whatever the spoon may bring. Christianity teaches them to do this. Television teaches them to do this. Nearly everything they see and hear teaches them to do this. And since Mommy and Daddy are letting Elmo raise their children, no one is teaching them anything different. By the time I get them, their brains are mush and it's my job to reconnect the neurons?! Right.

Aside from poor performances, these same students expect to receive good grades. I tell them to analyze and they summarize. I tell them to be specific and they generalize. I tell them to create an argument and they skirt any real subject altogether. Yet when they get a D in the class, it's my fault. When they fail to complete half of the coursework thereby failing the class, it's my fault. I lack "compassion". How dare I? Their work is apparently anyone's responsibility but their own. It's Mommy and Daddy's responsibility. It's mine. It's the university's. God forbid they be held accountable for their lives.

When I get on the highway, there's a guy driving 45 mph in the left lane. To get around him, another guy goes 20 mph over the speed limit weaving in and out of traffic having apparently forgotten that he has a turn signal while throwing Styrofoam Sonic cups out his truck window. He owns this bitch. We're all his minions. The slowy in the left lane also owns this bitch. But he doesn't know about any minions. When Mr. Weavy ends up parking somewhere, he parks in 2 spots simultaneously at the very front of the parking lot. He doesn't want to walk too far. That would take effort. But he also doesn't want anyone scratching his ride. He also owns this parking lot.

When the U.S. Military Industrial Complex decides they need something another nation has (its lunch money, you know, whatever), they act just like Mr. Weavy on the highway. Throwing their dicks around the planet like they own this bitch - destroying the natural environment, destroying entire cities and nations, displacing peoples, destroying lives. The citizens at home, my students who never acquired critical thinking skills, support this activity entirely. After all, it's all done in the name of Freedom - a word people love to use yet never analyze.

So what is the foundation of this cultural trend - this live and let die, walking around in a me-bubble oblivion, it's anyone's fault but mine cultural phenomenon? I believe it is a combination of an economic system that intentionally sustains such attitudes utilizing a 2000-year-old religion that conveniently lends itself to the same attitudes. When the humans who comprise this culture accomplish something, "God" did it. A student of mine recently wrote that her 11-year-old self somehow managing to operate a tractor was the work of "God". I say way to go 11-year-old you! This little human figures out how to operate a complicated piece of machinery (designed and manufactured by humans)...and God did it. How's that for a pat on the back? On the flipside, when these same humans fuck up their lives, they are told to remedy the mess my "giving their pain and suffering to God". How about looking in the mirror, owning your mistakes and remedying them yourself? God didn't fuck up your life, and God's not going to clean up your mess. But I'm sure if these people somehow scramble their way out of their respective shit holes, they'll be thanking God.

Consumerist agendas function in much the same way. The goblins in "Goblin Market" say "Come buy, come buy, come buy." Indulge now, pay later. That two-week-old PC's a dinosaur! That blouse is sooo 2009. Gorge yourself on the smorgasbord of wealth we have acquired by the broken backs of the rest of the world and don't even begin to imagine the consequences. There are no consequences with guns like these.

All of these underlying, unanalyzed, spoon-fed and deeply ingrained attitudes stem from the very building blocks of our culture: our economy and our religion. These basic infrastructures are so enmeshed in our mentality that it is nearly impossible for most people to even recognize them let alone alter or abandon them. Until we disentangle ourselves from this web and are able to witness it for what it is, nothing will change. Needless to say, I doubt much of anything ever will. I'm not even sure how I intend to disentangle myself despite my ability see and analyze the problem. I could become an executor. No. I could tune in, turn on and drop out. No. That obviously didn't work. I suppose all I can do now is look to those I admire as particles of harmony in a mess of individualistic bumper-cars for the clarity and wisdom to rise above the tumult.

Most Significant Dreams

Disclaimer: Please excuse the rampant self-involvement of the following post. It is more a record for myself than for others. Nonetheless, if it inspires others to pay attention to and analyze their dreams, it has done its job. I cannot emphasize enough how beneficial dream awareness can be...or at least it has been for me.

1. Age 6, 1988:

I am in the gameroom my family recently converted from what used to be the garage of my childhood home. I am tied to a chair being held captive by a road-runner. This is not the cartoon road-runner, but a real road-runner. However, it is very vibrantly colored – all of the colors of the rainbow. Though it is understood in the dream that the road-runner is the one holding me captive, the road-runner itself sits inside a cage that is attached to the wall. Eventually, I free myself from my restraints and walk toward the sliding-glass door to look out into the backyard. My parents are outside doing yard work. I see my father put his index finger to the tip of his nose, and when he pulls his finger away, the tip of his nose detaches from the rest of his nose and remains attached to his index finger. I freak out, run outside and tell my mother what I saw: “Dad took his nose off!” My mother turns to my father and says, “Hon, could you not take your nose off in front of the kids; they can’t do it yet.” I’m horrified to learn that I am of a breed of monsters. I awake and run into my parents’ room, wake my mother and tell her my dream, possibly crying, definitely freaking out.

2. Age 19 or 20 (same age in the dream), 2001-02:

I am on the deck outside and in the back of the house in which I grew up (the same one as above). There is a dirty, white curtain hanging from the sky. It is tattered and torn up. To the left is a palm plant (like the ones that grew downstairs under the deck) potted, but dried up, brown and dying. A strong wind picks up and blows through the torn curtain and the dried leaves of the palm plant. It is God speaking to me. Surprisingly, considering I do not believe in “God”, or at least the standard American conception of “God”, I become overwhelmed with emotion. I gasp and cannot breathe as if someone has punched me in the stomach, and I begin to tear up. I awaken and am frustrated that I cannot remember what God said to me, then later realize that what was said was not said in English or any human language that can be understood verbally.

3. Age 19 or 20 (same age in the dream), 2001-02:

This dream, I believe, occurred after the one just above, but I am not sure. They occurred, I believe, within about 6 months of each other; a year at the most. I am lying on the ground just in front of the garage behind the house in which I grew up (same house). This is the garage built to replace the one which was converted into a gameroom. I am wrapped in a white curtain hanging from the sky. It is long and wrapped around my body several times, with my arms down at my sides. I am wrapped as a corpse is wrapped for illegal disposal. There is a serial rapist and murderer prowling the neighborhood. I do not see him, but I know that he is inside my house. He is going to rape and kill my mother and sister and when he is done, he is going to come after me. I feel completely helpless and terrified. I want desperately to help my mother and sister and to save myself, but I can do nothing but lie immobile wrapped in the curtain.

Looking up “curtains” in a dream dictionary, I found that curtains represent hiding or protection. This seems obvious. It was only after discovering this and interpreting the second of the adult dreams that I understood what God had said to me in the first of the adult dreams. Thus, a running theme through all of these dreams is captivity or immobilization. My natural inclination is to protect myself, my vulnerability and sensitivity (via curtains), but that protection is what immobilizes me and keeps me from progressing and functioning successfully in life. The first dream (childhood) indicates the reason I feel the need to protect myself. I fear that I am a monstrosity and want to “hide” that from others; protect myself from being judged or treated harshly because of it. I’ve carried this initial fear throughout my life which results in dreams set in my childhood home. The first of the adult dreams, however, presents the curtain as tattered and torn. What God says to me, therefore, is that only after I destroy such curtains will I be able to function to the best of my ability and live freely.

*In the childhood dream, the road-runner is held captive while holding me captive. The road-runner is a representation of myself. This is not wholly negative. The road-runner is vibrantly colorful, which is why it must be caged. But it cages itself as it binds me. It is entirely within the road-runner’s ability to free itself; to perceive its vibrancy not as flaw but as a strength.

Addendum to "Gaming"

I feel kind of dirty about the last post, so I thought I'd attach, or provide rather, an addendum. My mother, a woman I admire greatly, gave me a pretty sound piece of advice. She said, no matter what the situation, be kind to everyone. Even if you disagree with the person. Even if you feel hurt or disrespected. Do what's right/best for you...you don't have to bow down to the interests of others, but always be kind.

I like this. I like the word kind. It means so much more than the word "nice" or "polite" or even "friendly". Kindness is a manifestation of the soul. There is truth and sincerity in it. I think that this is what Gandhi meant when he said you have to be the change you want to see in the world. You've got to have conviction, to stand up for yourself and your cause, but part of that cause, I believe, should always be to imbue the world around you with love and compassion.

I am not saying that I am a master of this - or even good at it a lot of the time, but when everything else is stripped away, this balancing act, this spiritual ecosystem remains. If I fight fire with fire, if I allow those who wish to tear me down to succeed, I am forfeiting my opportunity to maintain this delicate equilibrium. The scale is tipped on the side of aggression and intimidation. If, however, I choose to react with compassion, equilibrium is reestablished.

I'm not saying that I'm all that important on a cosmic scale, but then we are all a part of it. You know, "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls..."

In conclusion, always remember that it's always funny to hug a grumpy person...and it's good for your karma too!

P.S. Great quote from the Dalai Lama concerning his generous attitude toward Chinese soldiers in Tibet: They've taken everything from us; should we allow them to take our minds too?

Gaming

Paris Hilton once said, "Tell others what they want to hear, then do whatever you want." Excellent advice really. I keep forgetting that much of life, especially regarding social interactions, is a game. I'm not sure why this is the case. I hate playing games. I have been known to play games by accident - games like the ever-popular "passive aggression". I'm not proud of this. I'm not sure if people are conscious of the games they play. It seems that, to some extent, they must be. I personally prefer to be as honest and straightforward as possible. It cuts out a lot of bullshit. I'm the type of person who will show up at your garden party solely to discuss politics, religion and human sexuality. Fuck the weather and I don't know anything about the Dodgers. Why the hell would I be talking to someone if I didn't want to get to know him? I want to know what you think God is and what your deepest fears are. Only then do I know I can trust you.

But, as I've always said, I think I'm probably an alien. Most humans like garden parties and games. Several of the blog posts I've made discuss academic departmental politics. This shit's been plaguing me lately for various reasons...I think mainly due to a departmental split that I and few others are straddling. But departmental politics, like all politics, is a game. Politics is the game of all games. All of the words that go along with it - bureaucracy, diplomacy - connote this. This is something that may be obvious to many, but I'm just awkward enough to have missed it. Or forgotten it. I have a difficult time being insincere. It makes me feel dirty. But the fact is, when the situation one finds oneself in is set up, inherently, as a game...all one can do is play the game. All players are insincere. All actions are moves on a gameboard. Dr. Smeld is playing the game. Dr. Scalejake is playing the game. Dr. Graspawoman is playing the game. Even Haj and Scott are playing the game.

The only way I can function in a disagreeable sociopolitical environment (one in which leaving is not an option) is to discover others' interests, pretend that my interests coincide with theirs to create the pleasantest of possible rapports and then, when they're not looking, act in what I believe to be everyone's best interest.

I have a tendency to internalize things, but some things eat away at our souls. Games are intended to be superficial. That is why global politics becomes so dangerous. When we start gambling with people's lives, superficiality flies out the window (unless you're a Republican :)). Fortunately, at this point I'm only dealing with departmental politics. And if Smeld, Scalejake and Graspawoman aren't taking the B.S. home with them, then neither will I.