- I'm busy. Again.
- The cold is starting to lessen up, so thank God for that.
- I like holding conferences with students better than I like teaching in front of the whole class. Do most teachers feel that way?
- I had forgotten how good oatmeal cookies can be. Ooh, yummy...

- Is it a bad sign when you wake up to the song "Don't Fear the Reaper"?
- I got in the car this morning to find the gas gauge on empty. I drove the car all over town yesterday and didn't notice at all. Scary. I was afraid to be late and so wasn't planning to fill up on the way to school, until I was driving and noticed the needle dip down to the black region below empty. How many miles can you drive a car when it gets to that point? That might be an interesting experiment for Mythbusters. Not for me on a Monday morning, though. I finally stopped at a gas station. $43! but that's another story. I've never run out of gas before. That would have been embarrassing.

The NY Times explains the high cost of health care in America:

Almost all economists would agree that the main driver of high medical
spending here is our wealth. We are richer than other countries and so willing
to spend more. But authoritative analyses have found that we spend well above
what mere wealth would predict.

This is mostly because we pay hospitals and doctors more than most other
countries do. We rely more on costly specialists, who overuse advanced
technologies, like CT scans and M.R.I. machines, and who resort to costly
surgical or medical procedures a lot more than doctors in other countries do.
Perverse insurance incentives entice doctors and patients to use expensive
medical services more than is warranted. And our fragmented array of insurers
and providers eats up a lot of money in administrative costs, marketing expenses
and profits that do not afflict government-run systems abroad.

The editorial goes on to give some surprisingly nuanced solutions for changing the health-care system based on actual research. Imagine that. I still think a single-payer system is the way to go.

Snow

I woke up to a beautiful snowfall this morning--fat spiraling flakes, a thick blanket of white covering everything. Last week temps were in the 70s. El Paso weather is definitely crazy but I like it. The first thing I did was go out to take pictures. In my pajamas, even. The snow continues to fall furiously outside the window. I'm amazed. Pictures will be posted soon.

This is sad but also kind of cool.

A lull

So somehow I've arrived at a lull. No papers to grade, a couple of reading assignments, but nothing major to turn in. I cleaned the house last week. I'm reading for fun and watching DVDs and blogging. Ah, this is nice. I even made cookies yesterday. I bought a cookie mix that requires only adding a stick of butter and an egg. I'm not against taking a few shortcuts in life. They tasted just like cookies made the regular way.

I'll tell you all a secret: I don't really like Thanksgiving. I'm a Scrooge when it comes to holidays in the past few years. When I was a kid I used to get excited about holidays, but I honestly can't remember the last time I really looked forward to celebrating a holiday. Maybe because I dread having to make small talk with family members? Or because I think most holidays are overhyped and lacking in meaning? The exceptions being things like Veterans' Day and Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday. But Happy Thanksgiving, anyway, to anyone who's reading this.

My new favorite song, heard for the first time driving to school/work this morning.

Capturing the now

It has been awhile since I've really reflected. Not completely true, I guess, since I can spend a good hour writing in my journal when I have the time, trying to make sense of things. But it's true I haven't updated this space much lately.

Things are very different since I said good-bye to my old job. This is a healthier way of life, I think most would agree, now that I don't have to stay up until 2 a.m. every day. It's definitely a more social way of life. Where before, I'd do my job mostly in solitude, I now work in an office with about 20 other teaching assistants. Most of us are around the same age, and we're all in classes together or have been in classes together. This is probably as close to college dorm life as I've ever gotten, or a season of the Real World--it's a great mix of whites and Hispanics, girls and guys, introverts and extroverts. During office hours, while not grading papers or meeting with students, we talk about books and philosophy, race and culture, our students, and our classes (there is one in particular which we are united in hating and can spend hours bashing). We go out to lunch and talk about our life plans, our significant others or lack thereof. It's a group that likes to talk, and a group with the brains to make conversation interesting. It has made this semester far different from the previous ones. A blast, really.


Not to say being a teaching assistant isn't work, especially on days when I get up around 5:00 in the morning and work basically continuously all day until I go to bed and close my eyes and fall asleep immediately. I have crammed a lot into this semester. Too much, I think--a class on teaching, a research methods class, a service learning project, and most importantly, I'm teaching a class on my own for the very first time. On principle, I am against cramming so much into a four-month period. Ideally, classes should be savored, readings should be thought about, discussions should be deep and meaningful. But schedules being what they are, this semester day to day has been more like, I've got three articles to read and one hour to read them. Realistically, I'm not going to get much more than the gist. Sometimes I don't have time to read at all and I go to class and have absolutely nothing to say. I hate myself for doing this.

This semester has definitely been a case of information overload. It seems up until now there has been no time to think about things, just time to do. So much has happened, and it's like I can see everything spinning around me--the things I've read, the conversations I've had--but all I register is a blur of color, not the shape or texture or symbolism. Undoubtedly, hugely significant things have happened, and I have failed to realize their significance. This is a very different state of being for me, as a person who had gotten used to there being, proportionately, much more reflection time compared to actual things happening. In a way it's fun. In other ways it is just confusing and bewildering. I know that the events of the past few months have changed me, but I haven't had time to register how just yet, which is a very strange feeling. My next post...

Anyway, so now it's getting into that time of the semester where I'm trying to decide about the future (or at least next semester). But how do you decide about the future when you have no time to think about things? Everyone's asking, What are you going to DO?

Are you going to get a Ph.D? No, not planning on it.

What is your thesis about? My God, I don't know, I have a few ideas.

Are you going to keep teaching? I don't know. *sigh*

Ah, teaching. Can I do it? Yes. Do I like it? Well enough. Is it my life's work? I don't know yet. Here you have your lofty goals about making a difference, but are you? What about next semester, and the one after that? Am I going to be happy teaching the same material to another group of 18-year-olds? Or am I painting myself into a corner?

I'm frustrated at the pace of things more than anything. I don't know why everything has to be decided now, why finishing school has to take a year and no more, a thesis project two semesters and no more, why I have to have a ten-year career plan decided on by the end of this semester. But it seems that's what people expect of you. And it scares me to think of this chapter ending, just like the last one did. What will happen then? What will I be doing? Will I be happy doing it? Hopefully I will have had time to make a thoughtful decision by then.

This is the first weekend in a long while when I haven't been overwhelmed by homework and grading. Could this mean a longer post might be forthcoming? It might...

TIME's Michael Kinsley on Democrats vs. Republicans and libertarians vs. "communitarians":

Libertarians and communitarians (to continue this unjustified generalizing) are different character types. Communitarians tend to be bossy, boring and self-important, if they're not being oversweetened and touchy-feely. Libertarians, by contrast, are not the selfish monsters you might expect. They are earnest and impractical--eager to corner you with their plan for using old refrigerators to reverse global warming or solving the traffic mess by privatizing stoplights. And if you disagree, they're fine with that. It's a free country.

Generally, he says Republicans are libertarians as far as government regulations go, but socially they are communitarians, and Democrats are communitarians in government and libertarians socially. I think it's an interesting and mostly valid categorization, with a few gaping holes. Since when are Democrats lacking in visions of an ideal society (and attempts to legislate it)? And how much are Republicans against Big Government these days, really, in practice? As one letter writer put it in the letters to the editor, "But both parties are for Big Government; they merely differ on how to use it. Democrats would legislate compassion. Republicans would legislate morality. Libertarians would legislate neither."

Which one are you--libertarian or communitarian?

It's Nov. 2 and it feels like a warm spring day...meanwhile, they already started playing Christmas music at Wal-Mart. I'm confused.

From Judith Warner's blog post on The Daring Book for Girls:

“The Dangerous Book for Boys” spent 20 weeks on the New York
Times best-seller list and is slated to become a Disney film. If the “Daring”
book does anywhere nearly as well, then it could mark the start of a pop culture
re-imagining of modern girlhood – one, perhaps, with an emphasis on doing rather
than seeming, on growing rather than shrinking, and on exploring rather than
shutting down.

I like what Warner has to say about "toxic girlhood" and ways to combat it. I think if I had a daughter I wouldn't let her watch TV, except things like PBS and the Discovery Channel. TV = poison to girls' self-esteem, for the most part.

Grad school triathlon

As I faced the mountain of work in front of me last night, I remember thinking that if I could just make it through to 1:30 p.m. on Thursday, I would be home free, having shown myself to be worthy of being a grad student.

Sometime life sets up an obstacle course for you. I felt like life was testing me, or could it be the divine? I knew I would have to do everything just right that night--schedule my time just right, force myself to concentrate--or the whole thing would collapse.

Yesterday class lasted until 6 p.m. and I got home at 6:30. At that point I had the following to do: read and summarize a 23-page journal article (due online by 10:30 p.m.), prepare to lead a discussion and teach an important lesson in my class the next day, and finish a rough draft of a seminar paper (I had written three of eight pages). All of this while fighting off a cold and really wanting to rest.

The journal article summary came first and took longer than expected. I heated up a veggie burger for dinner. Not much time to eat. Summary was sent off at 8:30 p.m. I zoned out and watched the baseball game for half an hour. Then time for lesson plans, while I was still relatively energetic, since I can't plan a lesson when I'm exhausted. It took an hour. At 10 it was time to write like mad to turn my paper into something coherent. Was it the most brilliant thing ever written about the writing process? NO. But at least it was something I wouldn't be horribly embarrassed to hand in. I went to sleep shortly after midnight, my throat burning. I hate going to sleep when I'm sick. I woke up (coughing) at 6:20 a.m. so I could finish the citations for my paper. This actually went faster than expected. I printed it out. I showered and got ready and reviewed my notes for class as I ate breakfast. Then off to school to attend a class at 9.

At 10:30 I began to teach, after I apologized for the poor quality of my voice. Then halfway through class, guess what happened? An observer entered my class to evaluate me, and I thought, God, what are you trying to teach me, exactly? I absolutely didn't know about this beforehand. I got more nervous than usual but I think I did OK. Immediately after that, I attended a class as a student. The bell rang and the prof announced, "Please hand in your rough drafts." I fished it out of my notebook triumphantly and slid it across the table. I felt like a triathlete crossing the finish line at a triathlon. Seriously, I think I deserve a prize, or at least some heavy-duty relaxation. I did it. I finished it all. Congratulations to me.

I wore a suit to teach today, mostly because it was cold and all the sweaters I have are too casual to teach in. Strange how I act differently when I wear a suit. In some ways I feel ridiculous wearing it, because I feel like the "real me" wears jeans and T-shirts, not dress pants and a jacket with shoulderpads. Yet it does make me feel more"professional" and somehow I feel more justified bossing people around when I'm in a suit.

I think I caught the cold that's been going around campus. Yuck. This is an especially bad time for it, too. Did I mention that I hate being sick? I do.

The El Paso City Council is considering a ban on plastic bags. According to the article in Friday's El Paso Times, "The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency estimates Americans throw away nearly 100 billion plastic bags a year. When the bags reach landfills, they break down into toxic chemicals -- in 1,000 years." It sounds like a good idea to me, but I'm the type of person who buys about three or four bags' worth of groceries every two weeks. I don't know if I'd be so enthused if I were a mom with kids who spends $200 on groceries every time she goes to Wal-Mart. That's a lot of bags to bring from home.

A ban may be a little extreme, but couldn't cashiers be trained to fill up the bags more? It really bothers me to see a cashier use one bag for every three or four small items. And bag recycling programs are a fantastic idea, but apparently not enough people participate in them since so many bags are being thrown away.

Did anyone see "Real Time with Bill Maher" last night? Here's what happened. Gotta say Maher handled it heroically. I bet he dealt with more than a few hecklers in his days doing stand-up.

Harsh but amusing pan of Jennifer Lopez's new album where AP reviewer Nekesa Mumbi Mood takes hits at both Lopez's voice as well as her relationship history: "In the past, Lopez scored big hits with sparkling jams that hid her vocal flaws while enticing listeners with irresistible beats. Those kinds of tracks are hard to find on 'Brave,' which contains plenty of fourth-rate songs that sound as if they were made for Brooke Hogan instead of an A-lister like Lopez." Ouch.

Encounter with the past

On Saturday I ran into a classmate of mine from senior year of my undergraduate degree. It's funny to be reminded about your former self sometimes. It was four years ago that I was a computer science major and this classmate and I had to endure a torturous class called Software Engineering. We reminisced about the amount of hell we went through for that class. It involved spending nights and every Saturday at the computer lab and working under the direction of a grouchy, tough-to-please professor. This then led to a "where are they now?" gossip session about professors. I was surprised how easily the computer lingo came back to me. HCI and parallel computing and software and semantics. I still remember. Sometimes I think I'm forgetting how to add. But it's all back there, somewhere.

I'm usually kind of afraid of running into people from that time, since I'm afraid they'll judge me for the decisions I've made since. But I ended up talking to this person anyway and was relieved that his reaction was more of curiosity than judgment. What would possess a person who was doing well in a computer science program to finish her degree and then make a complete 180 and get a master's degree in English? I muddled my way through an explanation. I just couldn't stop talking; I kept layering on the reasons, and I don't know whether I made any sense at all. No one asks me these questions. Maybe I jumped at the chance to try to explain, to both him and myself.

I don't know if I was entirely truthful, though. It's too easy to say that it just wasn't me, that computers didn't suit me and one day I woke up and wanted to be a writer. Not true. I think I've always wanted to be a writer, and it has been a strong pull. But the fact that I chose computer science and stayed with it so many years and was able to do well in it, while really wanting to do something else, says something about me, too.

Something I kind of talked around was the fact that I wasn't very happy back then. In fact, the words that come to mind are cynical, brittle, and lonely. I think about myself now and maybe I'm not Ms. Sunshine and Happiness, but compared to that time, I'm really a different person. I'm much more optimistic, more ambitious, more confident. Maybe I'm the kind of person I'd actually want to hang out with now. Back then, not so much.

For one thing, back then I was still in the depths of being painfully shy. As evidence of how much I've changed, Saturday I didn't have much hesitation going up to this person and talking to him. I wanted to find out what had happened in the old department in the past few years, so I just struck up a conversation and asked. In contrast, when I was in the class four years ago, over two semesters, I never had even one real conversation with him, even though it was always in the back of my mind that he might be a smart and interesting person to talk to. I think he once asked me if he could borrow a quarter, and I said about two words and got all embarrassed about it. That was the extent of my shyness. It was ugly.

But even greater than getting over my shyness is the difference in my attitude--my whole attitude about life has changed. I was cynical to the point of self-hurt back then. I don't think what I was studying had anything to do with it. I was convinced that there was no way I could succeed at what I really wanted to do, which was to write. I was sure that the future was going to be full of drudgery and there was absolutely nothing I could do to change that. Thus I had no real goals or ambitions. I didn't think about school in terms of my long-term plans, and I had no great respect for what I was learning. I got decent grades, but I didn't think much about how valuable the knowledge was that I was receiving. It was more like, let's just get through the system as soon as possible. Make it through a mountain of drudgery in school, then on to more drudgery in the workplace. At least with a computer science degree I might have a shot at getting a decent-paying job. That was my view of life.

Four years ago, life was survivable, but it wasn't good. I was angry because the world wasn't exactly what I wanted it to be. I was grumpy due to spending so much time in computer labs. I was shy and therefore lonely. I was purposeless and I didn't care. Honestly, I don't think many people realize the extent of my cynicism at the time. Surely, the above-mentioned classmate didn't know. But I know, and I know how different things are now.

Sometime in the past four years the window opened and the sunshine came flooding in. At some point I shed the bad attitude and now, shockingly, I'm actually looking forward to the future (at least some aspects of it, anyway.) Maybe because I've worked at a place like the newspaper and I've seen some of the possibilities that are out there. Maybe because I'm actually doing OK socially now whereas before I always thought that I could never get over my shyness enough to thrive in the real world. Maybe because I realized the valueless, purposeless, ambitionless life wasn't working out too well for me. Maybe the past four years haven't been easy, but somehow their lessons have transformed me, and so I'm glad for what I've been through.

No news is bad news

The other day I asked my students which of them read a newspaper every day. We were discussing an essay by the author of this book, so I thought it was a relevant question. Not a single person raised his or her hand. Maybe they were just being shy, but I thought at least one brave soul would confess to a news habit. Not one. It was shocking to me. Maybe I shouldn't be shocked, since I guess it goes along with the statistics out there on young people's awareness of current events (as well as their reading habits. I didn't ask who had read a book for fun in the last year, but I would bet the results wouldn't be much better.) About half the class said they watched TV news or "The Daily Show." Better than nothing, I suppose, but I still think print is the best source of news (my view influenced by The Assault on Reason, of course).

I don't know if I could live without at least a passing awareness of the news, a glance at a newspaper at minimum. It has been this way since I was a teenager, at least. Even at 18 I was reading the papers. I don't know if I could imagine my life without the "news habit"--browsing through the newspaper every day, reading magazines, reading blogs. I suppose this is a habit that these students never picked up. To me, reading the news is like brushing my teeth or exercising. I don't know what it's like not to have that.


I was thinking that maybe I could offer some incentive to students for keeping up with the news. Writing and current events are related, after all, so maybe I could offer some extra credit for reading about the news. I'm seriously considering it.

-It's only Tuesday and I am truly exhausted. I drank a Starbucks coffee before bed last night so I could stay awake to study. I ended up staying up until 1 a.m. and waking up before 6 a.m. You really don't want to see me when I have not had enough sleep. It has not been a good day.

-Guess what Snow White is called in Spanish? Blanca Nieves. I never knew that. I think it sounds prettier, since Blanca is an actual name in Spanish.

-I was at the library yesterday afternoon when some library workers started going around and changing out all the chairs from under the students in the computer lab. Why they chose the middle of the day to start this task instead of waiting until the computer area was less full, I don't know.

The old chairs were these dark, sturdy wooden chairs with plump cushioning. They were quite pretty as they matched the wood of the tables in the library. The new ones were made of thin black metal tubing and had a thin layer of cushioning. So there was this big commotion in the library as the workers brought out these chairs and one by one, asked the students to exchange their chairs. "Can I have this chair?" a girl asked me in accented English. I was like, whatever, just let me finish reading this journal article. So I surrendered the old chair and sat in the new one. It was lighter, I guess. The cushioning was red with black squares. The seat was a little higher up. Truth be told, I liked the old one, somehow it felt more solid, but this one was fine.

The library workers had to ask probably over a hundred people to surrender their chairs, and all of them did so, however grudgingly. But this one guy just said no. "No, I'd rather keep this chair," he said, even as every single person around him traded.
They asked him again. "No, I like this one. It's more comfortable."
So one of the workers, probably a work-study student, as he didn't look older than his early 20s, just left the chair there next to him.
The workers started to point. "What about that guy?"
"He didn't want to trade. Said that chair was more comfortable."
"Oh."
But somehow this task of chair-trading was so urgent that they ended up asking him a third time. A discussion took place, which I didn't hear, and this time he finally gave in. But I kind of admire that kid for not giving in right away. He was right--that chair was more comfortable. In college you're supposed to be taught to resist, right? Why surrender a comfortable chair that is serving you well as you surf the web or write your paper? Maybe this is a silly story, but I suppose the moral is that students really should stand up for their rights more often, even if it is only for the right to a cushiony chair.