I've been a maniac for the last year. Too many credits and ongoing childcare crises have eaten my time. Fortunately, "dead week" is upon us and I have nothing new to worry about before finals. In theory.
TinyPants is old enough this year to be interested in the snow. He's cautious however, standing next to the snowdrifts with quiet concentration. Being placed in the middle of the yard in knee-deep powder is apparently too traumatic. I guess we've got more time before snow angels, igloos, and snowball fights. Perhaps it's his tropical heritage making itself known.
Every parent carries certain hopes for their children. Some have lists detailing what they would like their child to become. I have only three things I would like him to not become. They are:
1. Serial killer/sociopath/reality TV star (Yes, they all count as one. Think about it)
2. (American) Football player
3. Ice Sculptor
Numba 1 I think is fairly unlikely at this point; we don't seem to have the genetic disposition or the desire to torture small animals and large masses of people. My fear is that simply by identifying 2 and 3, I've increased the chances that they will happen. One day there will be a made-for-TV movie about how TinyPants overcame the astounding obstacle of his mother to become the world's greatest football playing ice sculptor. That's dangerously close to all of the above.
It's not that I particularly mind people who play football or carve things out of ice. They're people, too. However, the idea of being forced to endure yet another high school football game makes me cringey. I was a band geek in high school. Pep band was the ultimate intensification ritual for nerds. ART IS SECONDARY TO SPORTS AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT. It crafted a profound bitterness in my soul to all that is football. Plus, unless you're playing, it's friggin boring.
On the subject of ice sculpture, it may seem counter-intuitive for an art student to be so critical of peers in the field, but I just hate it. Passionately.
In the end, I'll gladly support whatever my kid wants to do (unless it involves killing people). I would just rather it wasn't one of those three things.
That's all.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, January 16, 2010
That Guy
I survived the epoch of syllabus week with my brains largely intact within my skull. My head remains free of zombie attacks and the increasingly more likely self-inflicted gunshot wound. However, I can't help but notice in every class the presence of that guy. When I say that guy I'm not describing a specific individual. In my entire life I've never had a class that didn't have that guy in it. Sometimes that guy is a girl. That guy's mouth moves faster than his brain and he lives for inappropriate interjection. Professors deal with him in different ways.
My creative process instructor exhibits a clear inability to ignore that guy. After watching a biographical film on Vincent van Gogh, before my instructor even turned the lights back on, that guy started rambling: "Dude, he was totally bipolar. Don't you think he was bipolar? I mean, like, he was clearly, like, really sad at some points in his life, but then like.. he had the manic phases too. That's total manic-depressive shit. I mean, dude, I've been around a lot of bipolar people, and van Gogh was totally bipolar. Like how at the end of his life, he finally achieved this awesome success and recognition, but then, he like kills himself. For reals." No one is contesting van Gogh is a psychologically interesting character, and somewhere in the drivel that guy makes a point about how mental illness may have played a role in van Gogh's artistic vision. However, he wouldn't stop. His diagnosis of Vincent van Gogh continued for at least twenty minutes despite my instructor's attempts to derail him.
At least three confirmed those guys sit in the first two rows of my writing class. My professor handles them extremely effectively. Despite the tendency of those guys to amplify each other, he skillfully redirects, interrupts, or tastefully ignores them. He maintains control over the discussion without insulting those guys and leaves plenty of room for more thoughtful people to participate.
I hate pretension, so I try not to be snob. Part of me feels a little guilty blogging about something as condescending as my opinion of that guy. That guy does appear to be really amped about his education. However, the content and method of his enthusiasm appears to be directed more toward feeling secure about what he thinks he already knows rather than acquiring anything new. He is a hindrance to my concentration, expression, and learning, so I am forced to regard him with utmost contempt.
My creative process instructor exhibits a clear inability to ignore that guy. After watching a biographical film on Vincent van Gogh, before my instructor even turned the lights back on, that guy started rambling: "Dude, he was totally bipolar. Don't you think he was bipolar? I mean, like, he was clearly, like, really sad at some points in his life, but then like.. he had the manic phases too. That's total manic-depressive shit. I mean, dude, I've been around a lot of bipolar people, and van Gogh was totally bipolar. Like how at the end of his life, he finally achieved this awesome success and recognition, but then, he like kills himself. For reals." No one is contesting van Gogh is a psychologically interesting character, and somewhere in the drivel that guy makes a point about how mental illness may have played a role in van Gogh's artistic vision. However, he wouldn't stop. His diagnosis of Vincent van Gogh continued for at least twenty minutes despite my instructor's attempts to derail him.
At least three confirmed those guys sit in the first two rows of my writing class. My professor handles them extremely effectively. Despite the tendency of those guys to amplify each other, he skillfully redirects, interrupts, or tastefully ignores them. He maintains control over the discussion without insulting those guys and leaves plenty of room for more thoughtful people to participate.
I hate pretension, so I try not to be snob. Part of me feels a little guilty blogging about something as condescending as my opinion of that guy. That guy does appear to be really amped about his education. However, the content and method of his enthusiasm appears to be directed more toward feeling secure about what he thinks he already knows rather than acquiring anything new. He is a hindrance to my concentration, expression, and learning, so I am forced to regard him with utmost contempt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)